Who doesn't love happy hour? Nobody you might say. After a hard day of work, or maybe a day of no work at all, what better pastime is there than pickling your underutilized brain and body with a strong concoction, and maybe even a snack? Well, the miserable business owners in the East Bay (read: huge suburb of San Francisco) seem to be against happy hours. And no, one dollar off a five dollar pint of beer doesn't count.
The small group of people I know here are mostly students, artists, underemployed, or totally unemployed. I'll let you guess where I fit into all of this. If it isn't painfully obvious, we are not a rich bunch, but we do like to eat and drink after a day of something. So, being the generous guy I am, I invited some folks over to my house for my own happy hour. And happy we were.
I already had a basket of lemons, and old half empty bottle of vodka, and a yard overgrowing with mint. I went out back and the slaughter began.
I found an old honey jar and filled it with the mint.
Next I added almost a cup of sugar,
two cups of vodka, and the juice of several lemons.
I placed the concoction in the fridge to chill and get minty.
Two hours later my friends arrived and boy were they thirsty.
Luckily my abuelita arrived just in time with the nicest sopes you ever did see.
Ahem. Actually, I made the sopes.
For a few hours we forgot our cares, prior engagements and medications.