rear pew mirror • doug brook
The Promised Liquor When Tevye reached America, he starred in a series of liquor commercials, his bearded visage looking to the camera and famously saying, “I don’t always drink Schnapps, but when I do, I drink l’Chaim. To life, my friends.” These ads were particularly popular around Purim, the Jewish holiday on the Ides of baseball Spring Training. The Talmud teaches that on Purim one is to get so drunk that they can no longer tell the difference between the good guys and the New York Y*nkees. Purim is, sadly, just one day of the year. Because of that, it’s often followed by Post-Purim Depression — or is it really just a hangover? Either way, the best method for coping with it is probably not exploring all-new Israel-inspired cocktails. Nevertheless, that’s the subject at hand. While the biblical prohibition against mixing wool and linen is called Shatnez, there’s fortunately no Shatnez for bartenders mixing shots of these heretofore unsipped concoctions. First on the menu, one might think that Jerusalemoncello is a tribute to the holy city’s thousands of years of taking the lemons that history hands it and making lemonade. In truth, it’s just a limoncello variant that replaces lemon zest with etrog zest. On Shabbat, various activities are considered a double mitzvah. So, drinking a Shulley Temple is a double toast to the synagogue where you drink it. With a cherry on top. Whether shaken or stirred, when things are going south one can down an Eilatka Martini, which has a special ingredient that gets its drinker fried: potato vodka. One can’t help but be moved to prayer after having a Western Wallbanger, which is made with the regional liqueur Galileeano. Speaking of the Galilee, one can kick back on the western shore with a Long Remember to Island Iced Tiberias, with an added tip your editor, splash of Kinneret water. When seized by the desert heat, cooling down is never better than with a we’ll be here Masada Mama, which differs from its all week… Bahama counterpart by dropping the rum, in payback for the siege of Masada by the Romans. One needs to call for a chauffeur after indulging in just one blast of a Tekiya Sunrise, staring slowly across the sky, saying goodbye (after seeing three stars). The most traditional of people might not admit to imbibing on an Alabama Slammea Shearim, which can slam shut anyone’s gates because it’s made with Southern Comfort 100. Anyone who’s looking for trouble better not get caught holding a Black Russhin Bet. It contains more than vodka and coffee liqueur, but the details are a matter of national security. For people who find the world’s gotten too modern, there’s no need to visit one of Israel’s most ancient cities when one can instead drink that city’s namesake drink, an Old Fashkelon. For a break in the middle of shopping in Jerusalem, including at the Alabama Shop on David Street, it’s sweetly refreshing to kick off one’s sandals and sip a Machane Yehudaiquiri. A Cosmopolitanyahu is the perfect drink for either celebrating or drinking heavily, depending on one’s politics, due to the legacy of loncontinued on previous page 46
March 2023 • Southern Jewish Life