Well, it’s too late to get today right—let’s forget about today, ok? It never happened. I wasn’t there, didn’t do it, was off somewhere better doing that other thing that I should have been doing. But tonight still lies before us, and with Lo-Fi Lush Hour no. 59 to usher it in... 
Today being World Cocktail Day, I should prolly inflict the original Cock-Tail on yinz. Two fingers of American genever, a lump of sugar, a big splash of water, a little one of Stoughton’s bitters, and—nah. What say we have a lil’ Weeski instead? Washercize them digits first, tho
This one’s something I came up with on Halloween 2003 when I didn’t have any rye left for Manhattans. I had Irish whiskey—John Power’s. The stuff on the right, not the nectar on the left.
In fact, let’s remove that from play right now. Cheers!
Since I was using Irish and I had promised my fellow parents of 6 year olds Manhattans, much needed post trick or treating with the lil’ darlings, I used Lillet instead of vermouth so as not to step on the soft, mellow whiskey.
If you don’t have that, you can try one of these, or even a white port (errybody keeps that around, right?) or a rainwater Madeira. Something subtle.
Plus the trimmings. If no Cointreau, any other orange liqueur. The Feegans is equal parts Fee’s and Regans’ orange bitters and I still think it works great. But other orange bitters will work, too.
Oh, and this debonair so-and-so.
Tools. The Weeski is a stirred drink.
So. Two ounces of Powers or whatever other Irish whiskey that has survived your day-drinking and desperation shots.
An ounce of Lillet or Lillet-like substance.
Barspoon of Cointreau (or...).
Couple of dashes of orange bitters.
Crack an ice cube and keep crackin’ ‘em until your mixing glass is full.
Stir, natch.
Summon your cocktail glass from its Siberian exile.
And strain.
As usual, I somehow neglected to take a picture of the twist being squeezed. Too close to the finish line, I guess, and I’m breathin’ too hard to worry about that sort of bullshit. Anyway. Squeeze it.
And there stands the glass. This one has taken on a little bit of a life of its own, but it was originally a last-minute panic drink. The name? I thought it tasted like whiskey would taste if it were French, and it sounds like how they say “whiskey” there. I know, dumb.
Today’s Toast was brought to you by these guys, who used to be cool.
(That’s “or substitute,”’not “or orange bitters”; the bitters are mos def and.)
