.... is in my friend's kitchen.
No, really.
The Younger Doctor P (he of the world-shattering IPD Theory) used, in his far-off youth, to be a big fan of Jack Daniel's. It is one of the things that first bonded our friendship: he would usually keep a bottle of the stuff in his undergraduate room, and I would often go around to help him drink it. Alas, he came to feel that he had rather overindulged during his student days, and for several years swore off spirits altogether, and confined himself to drinking wine, and an occasional beer (he still won't touch JD - very sad).
However, since his marriage a few years ago, he has rediscovered his interest in the stronger forms of alcohol. His good lady (also a doctor), you see, is a big fan of cocktails; and she has infected him with her enthusiasm. Their spacious kitchen is now transformed into a cocktail-worshipper's shrine. They have more cocktail recipe books than most people have cookery books. They have a beautiful collection of vintage '20s and '30s shakers. And they have a mind-boggling selection of unusual liqueurs, spirits, aperitifs, and bitters: the last time I attempted a count, it was something like 80 different bottles (they used to be all on open display, ranged along every spare inch of shelving and workspace; but now, most of them have been discreetly stashed away in various cupboards) - a far broader selection than I have ever seen in any professional bar.
Dinner with the good doctors is invariably preceded by two or three wonderfully tasty - and often quite obscure - cocktails. It is a great, great pity that I am only able to visit them for a day or two once every couple of years.
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