Years ago, on a particularly sultry summer evening, when thoughts of Tennessee Williams plays came to mind, the need to find an appropriate elixir that would simultaneously penetrate the steamy heat of the evening and the similarly sodden nature of my mood became apparent. A search of the cabinets disclosed that all reasonable options had long since been depleted, leaving only a bottle of cheap vodka, bought for the manufacture of pie crust (yes, a properly flaky pie crust is best prepared using vodka), and a bottle of Fresca, the presence of which was inexplicable, but fortuitous.
Both of these were immediately dispatched to the freezer, where they chilled until the vodka poured like maple syrup in November and the Fresca spontaneously turned to slush when the lid was opened and the pressure relieved. The two were titrated together in a large glass that had also spent time in the freezer until the taste of one pretty much counter-balanced the taste of the other. Since Fresca is not known for its subtlety, this resulted in a particularly potent beverage with all the nuance of a Donald Trump policy speech.
When consumed while watching heat lightning dance across the night sky, it had precisely the desired effect upon mind and body.
Later, when I described the concoction to the deeply insightful Tentakles, I lamented that it was in need of a name. He immediately and brilliantly responded by calling it a Tanya Harding, which perfectly captured the essence of the drink: trailer trash materials, dubious taste, a frigid nature, and the ability to knock the knees out from under you.
Depending upon the precise nature of the funk which is upon you, it is best enjoyed while listening to either Delta blues, Johnny Cash's American IV, V, and VI albums, or Zydeco. In the latter case, an appropriate dinner should be arranged and the experience shared. The other two are best enjoyed alone.
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