The Burma Road was a 700 mile way, hacked from terrible terrain, from what was then called Burma--now Myanmar--to a destination in China, built mostly by Chinese laborers, but later assisted by the U.S., to provide supplies to the Chinese to enable them to resist the Japanese invasion during the Second Sino-Japanese War.
To be honest, I know very little about the Burma Road, but thanks to Marilynn Larson, I know quite a lot about the Pegu Club Cocktail, named after the Pegu Club in colonial Burma.
Marilynn sent us a recipe: 6 parts gin, 2 parts orange liquor, 3 parts lime juice, and a few dashes of bitters.
By nature cautious, I tried to make a very small version of the Pegu Club Cocktail but, having no liquid measuring instruments capable of such minute amounts, I tried using a kitchen scale, thinking that the exchange from volume to weight could not be important with the ingredients.
The first try was minute, although I had to switch from grams to ounces in midcourse. The taste test was unconvincing. So I multiplied the weights, trying to coax the scale to follow my flow schedule. I could not find my cocktail shaker, either, but Mari found a usable campers thermos, and I shook the hell out of it. The Pegu Club Cocktail benefits from a trial by larger amounts. I do not remember everything, because of the frostbite, but Mari says that I looked cute dressed only in a scarf, wrapped in what I assured her was a very Burmese manner, up over the shoulder, and down the back, up between the legs, and over the other shoulder.
I do not precisely remember what the connection is to Rudyard Kipling's, "Road to Mandaley", but Mari reports that I set out, in the dark, up the road that winds around our neighborhood, singing, "On the road to Mandalay, where the flying fishes play", glass in hand, dressed in my Burmese scarf, and that all went well until the lady up at the corner, hearing the melody, came out, saw me, and called the police, who were uncaring about the Second Sino-Japanese War.
A certain amount of negotiating, of which we could use a lot more these days, given the problems John Boehner--pronounced "Bay-nor"--is having with his Republican majority in Congress, convinced the gendarmes to release me to Mari's custody, provided I did not take off my scarf.
If you would like to try Marilynn's cocktail--I am trying, seriously, not to engage in a double-entendre here--please do so, but ask her directly for the recipe. Part of my informal parole was an agreement not to share what I knew about the Burma Road.
To be honest, I know very little about the Burma Road, but thanks to Marilynn Larson, I know quite a lot about the Pegu Club Cocktail, named after the Pegu Club in colonial Burma.
Marilynn sent us a recipe: 6 parts gin, 2 parts orange liquor, 3 parts lime juice, and a few dashes of bitters.
By nature cautious, I tried to make a very small version of the Pegu Club Cocktail but, having no liquid measuring instruments capable of such minute amounts, I tried using a kitchen scale, thinking that the exchange from volume to weight could not be important with the ingredients.
The first try was minute, although I had to switch from grams to ounces in midcourse. The taste test was unconvincing. So I multiplied the weights, trying to coax the scale to follow my flow schedule. I could not find my cocktail shaker, either, but Mari found a usable campers thermos, and I shook the hell out of it. The Pegu Club Cocktail benefits from a trial by larger amounts. I do not remember everything, because of the frostbite, but Mari says that I looked cute dressed only in a scarf, wrapped in what I assured her was a very Burmese manner, up over the shoulder, and down the back, up between the legs, and over the other shoulder.
I do not precisely remember what the connection is to Rudyard Kipling's, "Road to Mandaley", but Mari reports that I set out, in the dark, up the road that winds around our neighborhood, singing, "On the road to Mandalay, where the flying fishes play", glass in hand, dressed in my Burmese scarf, and that all went well until the lady up at the corner, hearing the melody, came out, saw me, and called the police, who were uncaring about the Second Sino-Japanese War.
A certain amount of negotiating, of which we could use a lot more these days, given the problems John Boehner--pronounced "Bay-nor"--is having with his Republican majority in Congress, convinced the gendarmes to release me to Mari's custody, provided I did not take off my scarf.
If you would like to try Marilynn's cocktail--I am trying, seriously, not to engage in a double-entendre here--please do so, but ask her directly for the recipe. Part of my informal parole was an agreement not to share what I knew about the Burma Road.
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