“Then I grew angry and cursed, with the curse of silence, the river, and the lilies, and the wind, and the forest, and the heaven, and the thunder, and the sighs of the water-lilies. And they became accursed, and were still. And the moon ceased to totter up its pathway to heaven — and the thunder died away — and the lightning did not flash — and the clouds hung motionless — and the waters sunk to their level and remained — and the trees ceased to rock — and the water-lilies sighed no more — and the murmur was heard no longer from among them, nor any shadow of sound throughout the vast illimitable desert. And I looked upon the characters of the rock, and they were changed; — and the characters were SILENCE.”
The Tale
OK, this is one of Poe’s more “trippy” tales (to use an adjective popularized during my long-past and wasted youth). It takes place in a mysterious, melancholy, and rather depressing world of vast deserts and monotonous weather patterns. “The waters of the river have a saffron and sickly hue; and they flow not onwards to the sea, but palpitate forever and forever beneath the red eye of the sun with a tumultuous and convulsive motion.” It’s like the Cuyahoga River in 1969.
Now, in this land there was a demon. The demon observes a man standing on a rock and, for some unknown reason, imposes a curse:
“Then I cursed the elements with the curse of tumult; and a frightful tempest gathered in the heaven where, before, there had been no wind. And the heaven became livid with the violence of the tempest — and the rain beat upon the head of the man — and the floods of the river came down — and the river was tormented into foam — and the water-lilies shrieked within their beds — and the forest crumbled before the wind — and the thunder rolled — and the lightning fell — and the rock rocked to its foundation. And I lay close within my covert and observed the actions of the man. And the man trembled in the solitude; — but the night waned and he sat upon the rock.”
So now the demon decides to curse the region into silence, as described in the excerpt I shared at the beginning of this entry. At this frightening silence the man flees in terror. That’s pretty much the whole tale.
The full story is available here.
The Drink
For this cocktail, we’re going to zero in on two central aspects of Poe’s story. First is the “saffron and sickly hue” of the river. And what better ingredient to represent this saffron color than…saffron? Saffron is a spice with floral and earthy qualities that, I think, might pair well with tequila. So let’s make a saffron margarita. Second, I want to capture the turmoil of the first curse and for this we turn to that questionable treat (?) at the bottom of every trick-or-treater’s Halloween haul in the 1970s: Pop Rocks.
Ingredients
2 oz. reposado tequila
1 tbs lime juice
½ oz Cointreau
¼ oz agave syrup, plus a little more for rimming the glass
A half-dozen strands of saffron (soaked in 1 tsp warm water), plus a few more as a garnish
1 pkg Pop Rocks (to rim glass)
Prepare a margarita glass by coating the rim with some agave syrup and rolling the rim in Pop Rocks. (Extra points if you, like me, couldn’t find a margarita glass anywhere in the house, and so in desperation you go to Target and find a couple of these “ghost” margarita glasses, which are simultaneously cute and embarrassing.)
Combine the tequila, lime juice, Cointreau, agave syrup, and saffron water in a shaker with ice. Shake it “with the violence of a tempest.”
Strain the drink into your prepared ghost glass. Use crushed ice if you must, but I’m too manly for that. Garnish with a few more strands of saffron. If you’re up for it, curse the world about you.
Poe-Script
This fable is often referred to as a “prose-poem,” which is another way of saying that it doesn’t rhyme and it doesn’t really tell a coherent story. Still, it’s a haunting narrative that seems to communicate the horror of silence. Which is a phrase that nicely describes my first date in high school.
Chasing Phantoms 
You always make me chuckle. 😆
So, how did it taste?
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