Frying Pan, meet the Fire.

When we left off yesterday, I had made two Munsters-themed drinks (The Herman [or, as Grandpa calls it, The Hoiman] and The Lily). The drinks were a huge disappointment, and I traced most of the problem to a foul spirit called Chartreuse. (Foul Spirits would be an excellent name for a rock band, by the way.) Now, before I tell you what happened next, let me reiterate that Chartreuse is 110 proof (i.e., 55 percent ABV). And I ended up consuming one Herman and one Lily and then another Herman (as I tried omitting the lemon juice from the second one, hoping I could make the thing drinkable). Now for a little math: I drank 1.75 oz plus 1.5 oz plus 1.75 oz of Chartreuse, for a total of 5 oz of the foul stuff. And that equates to 5 x 55% = 2.75 ounces of pure alcohol. Now, maybe that doesn’t sound like a lot to you young ones, but at my advanced age that’s enough to do some damage. Or think of it this way: I drank the alcohol equivalent of 4.58 cans of that Budweiser swill you drink.

Then I went to bed.

I awoke around 2 pm with a pounding headache; I felt feverish; and my body felt like Indiana Jones’ after he’d been dragged behind a truck. (The wife says it would be worth it if I at least looked like Harrison Ford.)

I spent the next six hours in a feverish hell, weighing the pros and cons of ending it all right now. It might sound like I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. I don’t think it was purely the fault of the alcohol content. For it seems to me that one or more of the 130 herbs in that malignant, green swill destroy a person at a cellular level. Finally, around dawn, I was able to get a little sleep, and then a shower, and my condition had improved by 75 percent. In other words, I was now only feeling ghastly. Halloween theme indeed.

Now, as luck would have it, loyal reader Chris had sent me some recipes for various types of a drink called a “Corpse Reviver.” This sounded perfect. It had a suitably Halloween vibe, and also because my corpse needed reanimating. The Corpse Reviver is billed as a kind of hangover cure. What have I got to lose?

The Recipe: There are many different versions of this drink. Here’s the one I tried: Add 25 ml each (I just round it to an ounce) of London Dry Gin, sweet vermouth, triple sec, and lemon juice to a shaker. Add 1tsp abscinthe and 1-2 tsp simple syrup. Add ice and shake and pour.

The Ratings: Careful readers will note that I’m trying to counteract last night’s kitchen-sink drink that included a fussy green liqueur by drinking a different kitchen-sink drink that included a fussy green liqueur. (Today’s green spirit is absinthe. If you hate Jagermeister, you’ll detest absinthe.) Now, the Corpse Reviver only uses one teaspoon of the stuff, but somehow it dominates the drink. All you can really taste is the absinthe and the lemon juice. Which are two flavors that don’t belong on the same counter, let alone in the same drink. One sip was enough. I’m going to cure my hangover the old fashioned way: by eating a pint of ice cream in front of the TV in my underwear. No points for taste.

The appearance is unappealing. It resembles a cross between dishwater and a urine sample. But maybe that’s just because I’m still feeling a little green around the gills. No points.

The name is worthy. I’ll give it two points.

Grand Total: 2 points.

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Dark N’ Stormy Update:

In my spare time I’ve been experimenting with variations on the Dark N’ Stormy. I tried adding a spoonful of molasses in order to make it darker and give it a thicker profile. But the molasses congealed as soon as it encountered the cold drink. I tried shaking it up, which resulted in little shards of molasses drops swimming around the drink like dead, brown guppies. But even overlooking the appearance, the flavor was horrible. Surprisingly, molasses isn’t sweet enough for this drink. It lends a distinct tang and an odd taste of corn. Back to the drawing board…