Up here in the rainy Pacific Northwest we don't see much sun until roughly mid-July, but this year we've been treated to an unseasonably warm spring. I've altered my weekend beverage schedule accordingly. You see, while April and May are usually set aside for Mint Juleps at my house, this glorious sunshine has me currently sipping my all-time-favorite summer cocktail: the Daiquiri.
Now, despite the hard work my fellow bartenders and I have done the past 15 or so years to rectify the problem, some drinkers out there still recoil in horror any time I utter the word "Daiquiri." They stare at me as if I were suggesting we all line up at a slushy machine filled with a neon-green slurry and hope for a brain freeze before the foul concoction hits our collective stomachs. Yes, I do serve a delicious green frozen drink, but that has nothing to do with my Daiquiri. So patrons have no reason to cringe at it's mere mention, because a properly made Daiquiri is nothing more than a classic rum sour—and not something that comes from a machine at a second-rate Caribbean resort.