Regan Recommends - 2 Gingers Irish Whiskey

Regan Worth

Being half-Irish, I decided to break out a bottle of my favorite Irish whiskey a few days early. I put some Amy Winehouse on and took a bottle of 2 Gingers Irish Whiskey down off the shelf. Of course, Hanover happened to stop by around the time I pulled the bottle out of  the liquor cabinet, so I invited him to stay for a nip.

Hanover's not Irish -- well, as far as he knows -- but he does enjoy a nip of Irish spirits and since it's not St. Paddy's Day quite yet, I didn't have to worry about getting pinched.

You can drink 2 Gingers Irish Whiskey straight up like Hanover does. It's a smooth whiskey -- a little honey sweet, but not cloying because the sweetness is offset with blood oranges and a bit of bitter, kind of like you nibbled on the rind before you took a sip. I poured Hanover a drink straight up the way he likes it in his favorite shot glass. He admired the amber color and threw it back.

"Wait for me!" I said. "It's my whiskey after all."

"Well, pour yourself a shot and catch up. It's been a helluva day."

I took a wine glass down from the rack. "I'm drinking mine in this."

Hanover raised his eyebrows. "You must have had some day too!"

"You goof! You know I prefer mine with a little bubbly. It cuts the burn." As whiskey burns go, 2 Gingers is not too hot, but still, on a warm day, it's a bit much for me to drink straight these days.

I poured about a shot and a half in the glass. I always just eye it, so don't go by my measurements. Go by your taste. You can always add more if you want some more kick. I filled Hanover's glass a second time.

I took a can of ginger ale and a tray of ice from the small fridge I keep in the wet bar. I put the ice in first and then filled the glass with ginger ale. It bubbled up just right. I could smell that citrus-ginger goodness. Mmmmm tasty.

I raised my glass to Hanover's. Our glasses touched. He sipped his this time and I sipped mine. The bubbles tickled my nose. I sipped again. This time I felt the burn.

I reached for a stir stick to stir it up better. Usually adding the ginger ale last does the trick, but every now and then, a drink can benefit from a good stir.

I poured Hanover another while I was at it.

I gave my drink a twizzle and then sipped again. Perfect.

"What kind of stir stick is that?" Hanover asked. "It looks..."

"So it's pink," I said. "I happen to like pink."

"You're such a girl." Hanover rolled his eyes.

"Whatever."

"You are, but that's not what I meant. I meant what's on the end of the swizzler. It looks like a...."

I dropped the swizzler and eyed its ornament. "Monkey!" I gasped. "What the hell is a damn monkey doing on my swizzle stick?"

Hanover eyed it closely. "That's no ordinary monkey."

"I know it's no ordinary monkey. Look how it's staring at me." I put down the glass. "Get rid of it, Hanover. I don't want to touch it."

"Well it's too bad you ruined your whiskey with all that ginger ale and ice or I'd drink it. The monkey doesn't bother me."

"Well, it bothers me. And no you can't have my drink. Just throw the swizzler away. And check the bag. If they're all like that, throw them away."

Hanover plucked the swizzle stick out of my glass and threw it in the trash. He's such a gentleman when he wants to be. He checked the bag of swizzle sticks behind the bar. "They're all just pink," he said. "I ought to throw them out just for that."

"Well, how do you think the monkey one got inside a perfectly good bag of pink swizzle sticks?"

Hanover shrugged and poured himself another shot.

"That's 80 proof, you know."

Hanover took a slow sip. "I'm sure you won't mind me staying on the sofa. I can keep you safe from any monkeys.

I poured another dollop into my drink and settled down beside him. "Why not. You know I'm always up for an adventure."

Be sure to stop by next week. We'll be participating in the Leaping Leprechauns & Frolicking Fairies blog hop. Fairies and leprechauns are fine with me as long as no monkeys show up.

Regan Recommends - Better Mardi Gras Gifts

Regan Worth

So, our adventure was a Fat Tuesday party on the A. Neon Mud Imp. I thought they'd dismantled her long ago, but it turns out she'd just been sitting in a dock.

It was strange to be back on board the casino boat where Caprice wreaked havoc so many years ago and it was nothing like that night. You've read that story, right? If you haven't you should. It's told in High Rollers -- the only Dime Store Novel so far that I'm in.

Not a single ghost in sight, which was odd considering the boat is something of a ghost ship, rising from the dead and all, at least that's how I look at it. Maybe I just missed them. I was pretty busy drinking and dancing. Of course, Hanover spent all night at the dice table. But who cares? These days you don't need a man to dance with and I'm all for that. Hanover can be a stick-in-the-mud about dancing.

Hanover's mask

Like all Mardi Gras parties, everyone was decked out in green, red, and gold. I wore a beaded gold dress that came just above my knees. The gold was accented by red roses down one side. My mask matched my dress, of course, except the roses were real instead of jeweled. It also had peacock feathers.

Hanover work a silver mask like this one.

We drank champagne with strawberries and snacked on all kinds of food. My favorite was the jalapenos stuffed with red caviar dip.

Around midnight, they brought out the cakes. I chose a chocolate one decorated with a pretty mask. I bit it and this gooey yummy cherry filling oozed out. I got it all over my lips and down my chin. I laughed so hard I nearly swallowed the baby. Yes, for the first time ever, I was the lucky one who found the baby.  I spit it out of all that red goo.

Hanover was all grossed out. He said, "All that red goo on it looks like blood. Someone didn't think that through."

I thought it was pretty funny. "Maybe they did it on purpose. You know, to add some realism."

Hanover scowled. "You'd better go wash up so you can claim your prize."

So I went to the ladies' room to wash my face. That monkey picture next to the door scared the bejezus out of me, no pun intended. It's like it was watching me. Of course, I know it wasn't. Well, I know that now. At the time, I told Hanover about it and he said, "I think you've had enough champagne."

I said, "Whatever."

He said, "Aren't you going to claim your gift?"

I said, "Of course I am." So I took the little plastic baby up to the cashier's cage and they handed me a velvet box. I figured jewelry, right? So I took it back to Hanover and I opened it. It's just some gold stick pin with the casino's logo -- an imp that looks just like that dumb monkey. It isn't even  real gold. It's plastic. Seriously? They could at least give out the genuine article. Next year we're spending Fat Tuesday somewhere else.