Podcast
Podcast Summary:
“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks (Espresso Martini in this episode) that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.
Episode 38 Notes: Pick Me Up
Olivia had been experimenting with things that could pick her up and also put her down for years. The things evolved too over the years. Now that she was out of college, had a good first job, and was an adult, she needed to get a little more sophisticated with her pick me ups. She needed an Espresso Martini.
Transcript of Podcast:
*Note – This is the full episode and containers spoilers. You can always listen to the podcast above.
Olivia was in London sitting at a mostly empty bar at 9 pm, exhausted, and trying to figure out what drink to order. Her mind flashed back to a few years prior. Those college years. She smiled.
Olivia wasn’t just your average college freshman—she was a *freshman on a mission*. When she first stepped foot on the sprawling campus, she had a clear, concise plan: make friends, ace her classes, and experience every cliché that college life had to offer.
Make decisions without fear of the long term consequences, because she was on a 4 year plan, after all, and then adios!
Giving in to the Tuesday night chant of “Chug!” “Chug!” “Chug!”
And waking up Wednesday late for class because she’d worked so hard the night before on drinking all of the drinks the frat party had on her journey to find herself.
Enjoying that first nectar of freedom from parental supervision.
Studying hard, and partying harder. Burning the candle at both ends.
And if she was going to survive this first glimpse of adulthood, she was going to need a drink that could keep up with her.
It was in the basement of a sorority house, amidst flashing lights and sweaty bodies, that Olivia found herself staring at a plastic cup filled with a golden, bubbly liquid.
“Try it,” said her new friend, Abby, who was already halfway through her second cup. “It’s *life-changing*.”
Olivia raised an eyebrow. “What’s in it?”
Abby looked at her like she’d just asked what water was. “It’s the ultimate college drink! It’s how you party all night and still make it to your 8 AM lecture the next day.”
Since Olivia had missed a few of those 8 AM classes she thought it was worth a shot. She took a gulp. The drink was sweet. With a sharp edge to it. And energizing in a way that made her feel like she’d just ran around the house barefoot in the first snow of the season. It was a weird combination of buzzed relaxation.
By the end of the night, Olivia was in love. Not with a boy or with college, but with her new best friend—her signature college drink. It was a drink that would define her college experience and be with her through all of the sorority parties, football game tailgating, the 3 AM post bar parties, late night study sessions, and all the other shenanigans she found herself part of.
She made the drink so often she could make it with the precision of a chemist. She had the perfect ratio of tipsy and energy in each drink, and it let her bust a move on the dance floor late into the night and still not miss a beat the next morning.
Of course there were downsides to heavy drinking and staying up all night, but a college kid never worries about the downsides or hazards of burning the candle at both ends. That’s because she has the energy to do it. So, the heart palpitations, the headaches post night out, the constant exhaustion, all day, every day, and the need to basically hook herself up to an IV of caffeine just to survive the day, were all things she attributed to the college experience. So, she did the logical thing. She kept on the path she was on, because quitting is for…well, quitters.
After all, this was college, right? Pushing through exhaustion by whatever means necessary, in order to maximize the experiences and enjoy every moment of this fleeting time.
Her relationships with her drink was as toxic as most of her relationships at this point, and, although she didn’t know it then, she’d likely need years of therapy to work through all of the relationships AND the decisions she made while taking down her drink of choice.
“What’ll it be?”
She looked at Dick, who was behind the bar. He was looking at her, waiting for her to order a drink. She’d spaced it. Gotten lost thinking about those college days.
She smiled and drummed her fingers on the bar top. “I need something that’ll wake me up and fuck me up.”
Dick laughed. “I’ve got just the thing.”
Perhaps all growing up was trading her baggy t-shirt for a pants suit. Swapping a day in a windowless lecture hall for a windowless office. Both still had the tedious, mind numbing quality about them, after all.
Or, trading her college drink of choice, a deadly combo of caffeine and alcohol that will keep you up all night, for a more sophisticated, more expensive, version of that same idea. One that maybe also didn’t have the day after side effects. One… a little more pure…
Because, she was mature now. An adult. She was past that partying, experimenting, college girl stuff. And she could afford it. She had a great paying job.
Of course, Dick also knew this and he saw an opportunity to really cash in with her and build a long time customer. He even considered for a split second giving her the first one for free, but he reconsidered the idea. She was slumping a bit. Her eyes looked heavy. She would pay. He knew that.
Plus, They were in a sophisticated London Bar and serving up something as… youthful…as a vodka redbull would be a little beneath him. But, the blueprint could still remain the same. A pick me up and alcohol. For adults, well, the adult pick me up of choice, that many who are post college put straight into their systems like it’s a form of life saving medication, is, of course….
A drug that Dick had to head into the back to find.
He tracked down the man with the supply. His dealer looked at him with a confused expression.
Dick shrugged. He knew it was…unusual at this time of night. His supplier sighed and reached for a bag, which he promptly tossed toward Dick. “100% Columbian.”
Ahh, the good stuff, thought Dick. A sale was a sale, after all. And who was he to question when or where it came from.
Dick glanced left and right to make sure no one was watching them. Then he went back through the kitchen to the front of house once more.
He made eye contact with Olivia and noticed her shift uncomfortably in her seat. She too glanced around her. But, they had nothing to worry about. It was early in the week and the bar was mostly empty. Everyone was drinking away their stresses and distracting themselves from life. In short, no one really cared what she was doing.
Dick dug into the bag and scooped out some of the fine, powder. He looked at it. It looked fresh. This was going to be some good stuff. And he knew the good stuff when he saw it. He grinned. Then he prepped a line. This was going to hit her hard. It was exactly what she needed.
He saw this attitude all the time. The late twenty somethings out in the real world now, looking to relive a bit of their college days every once in a while and capture that high energy feeling of how they expected the world to always be, but never found.
To banish the disappointment of being in a world that was so unlike what they’d been prepped for in college, and the slow, sinking realization that what college was doing was not prepping them to succeed in life, but to be a trained monkey throwing shit around in a cubicle.
Birth of the Espresso Martini
So…Dick fired up the espresso machine behind the bar and watched the thick, dark stream of espresso drip into a cup and steam. He was right. This coffee was fresh and this was going to be a great drink.
He grabbed vodka and did a two second pour into a mixer. Followed by the addition of coffee liqueur. Then a dash of simple syrup. Finally, he poured in the espresso.
Dick shook the drink on ice, then strained it into a martini glass.
He set the drink in front of Olivia. “A Vodka Espresso.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“It’s got the pick me up you need. And it’s boozy…in a good way.”
Olivia took a drink. It was chocolatey and she could barely taste the vodka in it. It was perfect. Dick was right.
And of course, the drink the renowned bartender Dick Bradsell had come up with would later become known as the
Espresso Martini
The espresso martini is a drink that’s making a resurgence today. The Espresso Martini is a drink that combines the best things of adulting – coffee and a bit of booze.
It’s an upscale Vodka Redbull, which Olivia drank in college, that fits the high minded, post college, I’m a working professional now and wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything I did in college, now as a adult.
The espresso martini, a sophisticated version of the Vodka Redbull that’s perfect for the ever-exhausted adult that still wants to have a social life but also struggles with the desire to just crawl into bed by 9 pm, read a book, pet the cats, and call it a day.
Anyway… I’ll drink to that.
Podcast
Podcast Summary:
“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks (tennessee whiskey in this episode) that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.
Episode 37 Notes: Talking Tennessee Whiskey With Chris
Recently I sat down with Chris Mallon, the owner of Tennessee Whiskey Workshop We drank an old fashioned and recorded at Jane’s Hideaway in Nashville. His knowledge about whiskey and bourbon is extensive. Chris is the Nashville chapter president for the regional US Bartenders Guild.
We covered the difference between whiskey and bourbon, got some personal TN whiskey recommendations, and talked through a ton of really unique and interesting whiskey and bourbon stories that features some companies you may have heard of, like Jack Daniels, Wild Turkey, and more.
About Chris:
TN Whiskey Workshop
TN Whiskey Instagram
Other Episode References:
Fireball Episode
Frank Sinatra and Jack Daniels Episode
Other Show Notes:
Jane’s Hideaway
Jack Daniels
Green Briar
Uncle Nearest
Fawn Weaver
Wild Turkey
George Dickel
Podcast
Podcast Summary:
“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks (Disaronno in this episode) that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.
Episode 36 Notes: Trade Secrets
A famous painter walked into a small, Italian town and walked away with a taste of a famous drink. But, try as he might, he couldn’t pry the recipe away from the hands of the Madonna. Trade Secrets could kill, and she wasn’t about to give up her what she knew that easily. Good thing too, because 400 years later, her secret turned into something magic.
Transcript of Podcast:
*Note – This is the full episode and containers spoilers. You can always listen to the podcast above.
He needed a woman like he needed a meal. He was starving for it. But, not in the way you’re likely thinking. What he needed was not just any woman. He needed his Madonna.
And she entered the room and stood there in a long, blue flowing robe that was lined on the inside with golden fabric. Her hair was tied up in a long braid that fell past her shoulder blades and her golden hair shone in the sunlight. But, it was her face that struck him. The skin soft and fair, her jawline rounded and subtle. Her eyes just as soft as the rest of her face, looking out at him with a gaze that seemed to look straight through him.
And he was just a simple Italian from the North here to capture the miracle worker. He had gotten very lucky in life, and had attached himself to someone very famous. Someone he admired highly. Someone that had used his curious and powerful mind to unlocked secrets of the world. He did not have that mind, but he did have direct training from that mind. He did have some of his skills. He could paint, for instance, which is why he’s the painter in our story.
The painter found Madonna at an Inn and she was sitting there now, her head turned slightly to the side, her gaze a thousand miles long, letting him take charcoal to paper and locking the shape of her into the pages of history.
This city has always had a special place with Madonna and years ago they sought to do her homage by building a monument in her honor. The Madonna has always held a place of reverence in Western Traditions. She is many things. She is the mother of Jesus. While being a single parent is more accepted today, during the time she lived in, the purity of a woman within marriage was judged by her virginity. Being pregnant and without a husband was a cultural black stain.
The Madonna is also a miracle worker. She has appeared in many ways in many times to heal and help. Once she appeared as the Black Madonna to save a monastery from a siege in Sweden. Other times she’s appeared as a vision and imbued individuals with powers of healing.
So, to paint The Madonna was a great honor, but not an unsurprising one for someone like our Italian painter, who was commission to paint a fresco for the sanctuary of a church in Northern Italy.
This monument to Madonna would be filled with statues and frescos of her. That was in the 1480’s. It was 1525 now. And this was not the real Madonna, the mother of Jesus. Because that was a different time, many centuries before this time. So, the painter had to find someone else to be his Madonna. He found an innkeeper, a woman from town that he thought looked like the image of Madonna he had in his head.
The more strokes he made on the page the more impressed he was with this innkeeper and the way she exhibited the traits and feel of The Madonna he wanted to create. Because for this painter, it wasn’t about trying, it was about knowing what he wanted and then doing it.
This was an unprecedented time in the history of the world, similar to a period like Le Bella Epoque, which was the subject of episode 21. This was the high Renaissance, an age of creativity, thought, innovation, and an example of what’s capable when humans think and do, not think and try.
And right now, the painter was doing very well. He was happy with the way his fresco was taking shape, and he was complimenting his model. She was blushing. She was embarrassed and humbled that a protege to the great Leonardo Da Vinci would think so highly of her. But, our painter, Bernardino Luini, was telling the truth. He’d worked with a lot of models too.
After studying under Da Vinci, Luini started painting frescoes on his own. He’d been doing it for almost 30 years on his own at this point by the time he made his way to this small Italian town and found his Madonna at an unsuspecting, and humble inn.
But, this inn had secrets too. Trade secrets that are still secrets today. When our model was blushing with all the praise from Luini she rewarded him for providing the honor of being forever immortalized in one of his work of arts, and for such a high purpose as replicating The Madonna herself, that she made for him a family drink. It was a small act of gratitude. A mark of kindness for the favor shown on her. A flask of this dark, amber drink.
The drink was thick and smooth, but tasted floral and light. It had an almost…nutty quality about it. Luini loved it so much he immediately begged her for the recipe to the drink. This was a request that, although Luini was famous and had done her such great honor, she simply could not do.
This was a time of trade secrets and gilds. A time before corporations and their staunch defense intellectual property (IP), but not a time before IP existing. It just existed in different form.
If you knew how to do something that others did not, or if you had a recipe that others did not, you kept that shit a secret. Because it was worth money, and even if the system in place wasn’t capitalism at this time, the way human nature has always aligned is with capitalistic principles.
You see, we like to think that we’re living under a revolutionary system of principles, but what originally made The United States a revolutionary concept was the alignment of human nature, economics, and politics. At one point, the system was human because it was actually modeled after who humans were and not some unreaching, on paper ideal that never works in reality.
IP is a great example of this human nature, because even in 1525 our lovely innkeeper Madonna refused to share the recipe for the delicious drink she shared with Leonardo Da Vinci’s protege because she knew one very important thing that we still know today. Your value, always, is in what you can uniquely contribute to the system. We are social creatures so it makes sense that there is an entire dimension of us, our external side, that derives value from our relationship to the external world. And, this external world, it turns out, has a heck of a lot to do with the internal world too. Because, if you feel like everyone in the tribe is supporting the tribe and helping it succeed, and you’re not…well, you’re going to feel like shit about that.
So, aside from people paying you for your IP, your external value is how you, as a human derive a ton of your value. Throughout all of history the world has valued the unique skills, the exceptional qualities, the uncommon. That idea is deeply ingrained into the fabric of humans too because skills have always paid the bills. Sometimes it was literal bills. Other times it was food on the table or healthy kids and a thriving tribe. Still, other times, it was a drink.
This time, for our The Innkeeper Madonna, it was a drink. And she kept her secret because secrets were so closely guarded that guilds would actually kill members who shared their secrets. Not only would they kill the member, but they’d kill the people who the secret was shared with too. If you were sharing a secret, you were sharing livelihood, and that is something people have always taken seriously. Livelihood is money. Livelihood is identity. Livelihood is the future generation.
And the trade secret of the Innkeeper Madonna, who lived in 1525, was passed down generation by generation for almost 400 years. A secret kept for almost 400 years. Imagine that. Can you?
When’s the last time you kept a secret for longer than a few years? Hell, a few weeks? Or a day, even? We’re an overshare society and nothing is sacred anymore.
But, the secret recipe for this drink she served Luini has stayed in the Reina’s family since then. The most amazing thing is that the recipe was lost for a time within the inn itself, until the 1600’s when a family member found the recipe and hopped on the trend going around during that time of families distilling liquor.
They brought the drink back. Resurrected the recipe like working up a little Jesus or Madonna miracle. From there the recipe and the distilling was passed down through the generations until the early 20th century. The living Reina at that time finally made the decision to open a store just to sell the drink. Since, contrary to what you might think, business is hard, the drink didn’t have any of the usual flair that it’s known for today.
The drink that survived for 375 years, given as a humble gift of gratitude to a famous painter, lost for a spell, passed down generation to generation, was put out into the world for all to buy in a wine bottle with a crudely done paper label, and a shitty, unoriginal name.
But, in time, that would change too, and the drink would take on the more famous design it has now. It would keep it’s shitty name too, but the shit would wash away with fame and leave behind a drink that was recognized worldwide.
Before that time, we have the bottle. We have another work of art, another artist. This one not a fresco painter and not trained by Leonardo Da Vinci. This one a master glass blower, who would take the iconic bottle they rolled out in the 1940’s and add the last, final touch that would make the bottle itself a masterpiece.
He made a handcrafted bottle with a soft sparkle. It’s this design that is now recognized as what we think of today for this brand.
That, and the fact that unlike other drinks of its type it actually doesn’t include the key ingredient all of the other drinks of this type include – almond. Or maybe it does. I don’t know that for sure, because the secret to this drink is still a family trade secret. No one knows the recipe outside of the family still today. Over 4 centuries later. Now that’s a secret people have taken to the grave. Literally.
And this drink, well it’s truly a work of art, birthed in gratitude and kindness…
and each sip tastes like a warm hug,
Served straight from the bottle, which is a handcrafted work of art in and of itself…
Disaronno
A drink from the year 1525, perfected as a gift to a famous painter that has works through out all of Italy, but a small town innkeeper who was so honored to be the frame of reference for his Madonna painting.
Still, with a shitty name that isn’t a work of art, but sounds fancy because it’s foreign.
An amaretto “From Saronno.”
Or, as it’s said in Italian “Di Saronno.”
The testament to trade secrets and proof that good things come to those that keep their mouths shut and act with kindness and gratitude in the world… even if it takes 4 centuries to see the results.
Anyway… I’ll drink to that.
Podcast
Podcast Summary:
“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks (Tequila Sunrise in this episode) that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.
Episode 35 Notes: Tequila Sunrise and Courage
The mostly true story of how a sunrise, a lonely cowboy, and a bottle of liquor turned a cocktail famous, and reinvented a musical act that would skyrocket them through the charts and history.
Transcript of Podcast:
*Note – This is the full episode and containers spoilers. You can always listen to the podcast above.
Glenn was on the couch in the hotel room. The room was dimly lit and empty. It was late at night, or early in the morning, and he couldn’t sleep. He was strumming his guitar lightly, quietly, so as to not wake anyone else up. It was late but he had things in his head that needed to get out. The drink helped too, he thought, as he grabbed the full shot glass, tipped it back and downed in with a gulp.
It was high quality, but it burned all the way down, as it should, with this type of drink. From there, Glenn went on to work out the rift that was ripping through his head. It was a rift desperately seeking to escape. Something that had a southern feel about it. A far southern, like across the border type of feel about it.
He wasn’t sure he liked it, but something about it was growing on him. Still, Glenn wasn’t convinced. He would need a few more hours to be sure. His mind began to wander, finding synergies as it always did during his creative process, and he ended up in a small town in Texas. He was watching the tequila sunrise stirring slowly across the sky. It was the sort of sunrise he’d seen many times before. There was nothing particularly special about it.
But, what was special was the way he felt. The hollow feeling he felt, added to by a numbing buzz of drunkenness. The loneliness deep inside of him that the sunrise seemed to drag out of him. Because he was certainly not hoping to see the sunrise alone. He had tried hard not to see the sunrise alone.
He had been out the night before The bar was a small town, Texas bar. Music blaring on the jukebox. The wood floor scuffed from cowboy boots and sticky from spilt beer. Glenn was saddled up at the far end of the bar. The place was mostly empty and the windows were thrown open, but, it was Texas in summertime, and there was no air moving. The only thing coming through the windows was the sound of crickets chirping in the fields. The door creaked open and then slammed shut. He heard boots on the floor and turned to get a quick glance. He paused. He glanced longer. He had to look away and pick his jaw up off the floor.
She was beautiful, the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. She carried herself with such grace and energy that the room itself seemed to diminish in comparison. The smell of her was flowers and it overpowered the scent of beer in the bar. Her face was flushed and her eyes had an excited, slightly watery quality about them.
She was a magnet and every man in the bar was iron shavings, drawn to her energy and life with such force that none of them could resist. The only question was, how did one win over a girl that wasn’t like any other girl? What did a girl like this want? What should he say to her? He watched the men begin to flock like they were surrounding a sheep at a petting zoo. Would he even have a chance to say anything to her?
After all, he was a blue collar boy working the fields as a hired hand. He was nothing special. What could he offer a woman like this? He made to get up and speak to her, then lost his courage. He planted himself back in the bar stool and sighed, slumping his shoulders slightly, as he tried to find the courage to ask her for a dance, ask what her name was, tell her she was beautiful…. To do anything.
“Bartender, another shot.”
The bartender nodded. The bartender reached down behind the bar with one hand and grabbed a shot glass with the other. He dropped the shot glass on the bar in front of Glenn with a clatter. Then he poured the shot to the brim and pulled a few bucks out of the stack of dollars Glenn had sitting in front of him.
Glenn grabbed the shot glass as gingerly as he could. But, he still spilled it, leaving a wet streak on the chipped, old bar top. He downed the shot in one drink. It burned as it went down his throat and into his belly. Then he felt better. He felt more alive. He felt ready to approach this girl.
He wasn’t sure what he’d say to her. He’d let the liquid courage do the talking. Something smooth would come out.
Unfortunately for Glenn, nothing smooth came out. Instead, he came on a bit too strong. He couldn’t find the right words. He was bumbling it. She, was not impressed. She was not reciprocating. She was turning away and he was walking away. He sighed. Maybe the courage in his shot glass had done nothing but make him numb. He watched her leave that night with another man and a bit of his heart left him too.
It wasn’t that he’d loved her, or anything. It was that he’d felt the sting of rejection and was left with nothing more than the hollowness inside of him. So, he ordered up another shot, left a tip, and stumbled out of the place and back home.
But, back home, his mind was still running circles. He couldn’t go to bed. So, he stayed up. He drank more, straight from the bottle this time. Pull by pull. Until he greeted the sunrise and stared at it as it crawled slowly across the sky
He wondered if he was growing wiser with every mistake he made in life, learning and become better, or if he was lying to himself. If he was holding out false hope that he’d reach his dreams one day. Because, right now, drunk and exhausted, watching the sunrise he wasn’t sure.
This hesitation made him wonder if he should go somewhere else. Maybe leave the country. He was in Texas, and that was pretty damn close to Mexico. The way of life was slower down there. He didn’t have baggage there either. People that knew him and women that he wanted. He could start over. Forget the work here, the small Texas water holes, the woman, who he’d made a fool of himself in front of tonight. He looked back at the sunrise and watched the sun climb higher into the sky. He didn’t know if all this life he was living was bringing him closer or further to where he wanted to be. Hell, he didn’t even know half the time where he wanted to be. And maybe that was part of the problem.
Then Glenn returned from the past and was in his hotel room once more, strumming his guitar. The rift had grown on him. Don had shown up now too. Don liked the rift and Don had some lyrics that just might fit that Mexican, southern sort of feel Glenn was creating.
As it turns out, they were on to something. The song they wrote would end up being the first released single on their new album. This was their second album together as a band and the first time they decided to collaborate on writing music. For their first album they did not write songs together. But, in their first week writing together for this album, they wrote this song, and another song, the title song for their second album, that would go on to become one of the Top 500 greatest songs of all time, according to Rolling Stone.
That song was “Desperado.”
This song was named after a drink, but it was never about the drink that they named the song after. It was about something else all together.
It was about the story, I just told, because the story I told are the lyrics to the song. It’s the story of a lonely Texas hired hand who is into a gorgeous woman and uses a few shots of something strong to get the motivation to talk to her. It’s the story of finding the courage to survive harsh conditions and a hard life, and it’s a story about finding the courage to talk to a beautiful person that seems out of your league.
The song would climb the charts to number 64 on Billboard’s top 100 after it was released. It would also go on to solidify the drink that it’s named after and create a brand new buzz about his cocktail, even though it was forty years old at this point.
The song ends with the night turning to early morning and the sun rising. Our lonely Texas Cowboy is watching the sunrise alone, with his bottle of liquor, after a long night of drinking. The song, is about the sunrise. The moment that led him here. The liquor he tried to use to find courage, but that only left him empty. And the song ends like this:
“It’s another tequila sunrise
Wondering if I’m goin’ wise
Or tell a lie”
Tequila Sunrise, the name to the first song released on the Desperado album, cowrote by Glenn Frey and Don Henley, who were better known by the band they were in. A band that racked up five number one singles, six number one albums, six grammy awards, and five American Music Awards.
The Eagles, one of the world’s best selling bands, clearing more than 200 million record sales worldwide.
And the drink they weren’t actually talking about – The Tequila Sunrise – made with Tequila, Orange Juice, and a splash of Grenadine- when they were trying to capture that feeling of drinking straight tequila all night and then catching the sun coming up.
Anyway… I’ll drink to that.