Earlier this month I had dinner at a local Mexican food restaurant. My experiences there have always been generally favorable and the small town atmosphere really adds to the appeal. My family and I go often enough that most of the wait staff knows us by name, which is terrific.
On this particular visit I ordered a Bloody Mary. As Bloody Mary aficionados can attest, this cocktail is wildly open to taste, interpretation and the individual quirks of the drinker. The essentials are simple — vodka and Bloody Mary mix. Beyond that, you can pretty much add anything you want.
Shortly after ordering my drink, our waitress came back and apologized, saying the bar was out of mix and asked if I would like another kind of drink.
I declined, slightly disappointed, but my mood no less cheery than before. A few moments later, the bartender (again, someone who knows us by name) approached our table with what looked like a Bloody Mary. She apologized again for the restaurant running out of mix and said:
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