Makings of a Sherry Pornini: Cointreau and gin. Add a snippet of zest – not to include any rind , please! That white stuff makes the drink taste bitter.
People who know my husband, Jerry Mayfield, pretty well understand that he is a martini man. A creative mixologist, he is constantly experimenting with various versions of the classic cocktail.
For example, while in Bangkok, he created a cocktail he named the Sherry Pornini. It’s a mix of gin and a splash of Cointreau in lieu of Vermouth. He has taught a number of bartenders around Honolulu how to make it, including Justin Park of Manifest and Joey Gottesman of Young’s Market. How it got its name is a story you’ll have to ask him.
Jerry recently began writing his memoirs as a legacy for his adult children. This exercise has awakened in him a love of writing. (Yes, his talents are seemingly endless, from orthopedic surgery to sports to painting to print making to the art of travel to mixology to writing and who knows what….)
Jerry wrote a little story about his drinking buddy with whom he shares his bar. (Another talent of Jerry’s is design and carpentry – he sketched a bar he liked in Las Cruces, New Mexico – his home town – came home and designed and built it himself on our deck.)
I love the story and wanted it to find a wider audience than just family, so I decided to share it with my extended family: you, the readers of my blog. Enjoy!
My Drinking Friend,
I have a friend that I meet each night as I go out to my bar to mix my drink. He is elegant! All dressed in an Irish green tux with a spot of red tie beaming from his neck which if you look closely is pulsating with vigor and perhaps a bit of humor. He comes and visits me often, in fact nearly every night, whether rain or shine, he is there, just waiting to give me a brush of his shaded very dark black eye.
We have known each other now for a couple of years, and have developed a certain respect and common sharing of our imbibement. Our mutual target of oral sensual satisfaction is centered on a dark brown, rectangular, opaque bottle the cost of which I won’t discuss.
He is very athletic, which just amazes me. Appearing suddenly from just around the corner he asks “You again?” manifested in just the way he pauses and looks at me. I look back and say “Hi there, great to see you.” With his legs moving in synchrony he jumps on the bar and stares back as to say “I am not sure I trust you since our last outing when you put me in the spotlight.” I reflect on that, and recollect, yes, I did expose his nude figure, poised in the flash of my camera as he indulged in one of our favorite pastimes. I reassured him I have not sent the image off to GEICO to be exposed to the TV masses in a commercial.
I am remiss not to introduce you properly to my friend with his name, which is Cointreau. Yes, he is French, although he looks a bit more like he came from the equatorial climes of the jungle. His tastes are impeccable, as I first met him licking, with his narrow darting tongue, from the area of corking of my favorite bottle of Cointreau, thus his name. I have never seen him dribble even a drop of our favorite concoction as he scurries around the bar.
Our relationship has been put on hold, for, as I suddenly realized he wasn’t quite the mate that my usual bar buddies were. First off, he was absent the two things that make man/woman what we are. He did not have a thumb, or on closer inspection even an index finger, and only three toes on each foot! Yes, only three digits and they were not particularly articulated. However he did have these great suction cups that allowed him to climb the walls if he got particularly intoxicated, scared, or perhaps hungry for some ants or other vermin of a small stature that hang around bars.
Meet Cointreau, Jerry’s drinking buddy:
A slightly smashed gecko named Cointreau.
- Paula Rath & Jerry Mayfield