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You are welcome, OldMan.
Used to put it (and some folk's mixes) in the freezer before a get-together, let folks make their own cocktails as well. Some needed assistance to make their third, as their body got stuff warm enough to digest, FWIW.
Be forewarned. Straight-up or with a twist, it can be like properly warmed saki -- sip, count to 10, know how drunk you are.
It has been decades, back then, I, too, noted a taste preference/difference.
If you really like it, order a case (or half), it stores well <VBG>.
Fifth Avenue is closed to traffic from 23rd Street on up for the Polish parade, Sixth Avenue is closed from 23rd on down for the street fair, and 23rd is in gridlock on account of above, acerbated by the counterparade of a few Polish monarchists who must have been denied permission to join the main parade. They fly their white and red Polish flag with the regal double eagle, three cop cars as escort, followed by loyalists in a couple of double-decker London tour buses, wildly cheering all the way.
Some blocks further north, a contingent of color guards gathers round one of their own leaning against a wall, felled by age and heat. His wife has his huge fur hat under her left arm, her right holds the American flag he was carrying. His partner waits with a Polish flag sans regal eagle, looking at the parade passing by.
Later, on Sixth Avenue, I watch kids feed the ponies in a petting zoo at the street fair. A mad lady with the voice of Katherine Hepburn tells me she has two apples for the pony, attempts to climb the fence, but gives up. "It's too high," she tells me.
She's busy waving an apple at a cow as I head south, home.
The Crucifixion on Astor Place 04/26/05
mmm ... which war was that?
They need to re-open the mental institutions, and quickly.
Dinner tonight. Cod, yellow rice, black bean soup.
NYC's finest don't like performance art or deviant views apparently. Whoa, but whatabout the 'naked cowboy'?
Haven't heard from the Naked Cowboy in this neck of the woods lately, he went down South to escape Covid? Looks like he made some money in Daytona Beach:
Impeachments Past ... or ... Pork Chops!
I watch the Representatives file into the Senate chambers. As expected, not one Senator demanded immediate dismissal of the traitors, instead there will be a trial. We shall see.
During the short procedure I ponder tonight's dinner. Half a red cabbage still sits in the crisper, left over from Christmas dinner ... mmmm ... pork chops and red cabbage ... little duck fat, onion, apple and some lemon for the red cabbage, yup, got everything except the chops.
The Senate goes into recess until quarter to one, so I head up Second Avenue in search of pork chops. Only one package of chops at the supermarket, in a pool of blood yet. The meat mgr gets shifty-eyed while promising a fresh load later today, so I decide to head further north to the Ukrainian butcher, only to find the place shuttered. Strange. There's another one over on First Avenue, another few blocks, but it's closed as well. It's Christmas! How could I forget. Ukrainian Orthodox Christmas! Oh, well, now what?
Ok, there's a supermarket on Avenue A. Lots of pork chops, each one uglier than the other. This won't do. I wander south ... got to be a pork chop place somewhere; cross Delancey to the old Jewish Lower East Side. The Essex Street Market is all Puerto Rican now, piles of chops, but much too much fat. Haven't been in the area for ages, Chinese signs everywhere.
Clinton Street ... dang ... I'm going to miss the impeachment!
Strange supermarket with more ugly pork chops. Walk through Chinatown thinking I'll just head north again, up Broadway to a nice supermarket just a couple of blocks west of where I started, but then I see Dean & Delucas ... mmmm.
Why not, I'll splurge. Wander by piles of ideal fruits, vegetables, fish, meats, and there I find a case stocked with perfect pork chops! Two nice thick ones are $4.50, not at all as expensive as I had worried. Grab my chops and hurry north and home and make it back just as Strom Thurman hobbles back into the Senate. Didn't miss a thing.
... oh ... Merry Christmas!