Bottom Line This Trader Joe's soda makes a fantastic cocktail for a busy weekend. It also goes down slightly too easily, so you know, drink with caution.
We are moving. I hate moving. We have a really, um, difficult history with moving. Even our dog aggressively hates it and avoids at all costs.
Our first move together, I was so organized and excited. Tom had a major meltdown because he was disorganized, and his roommate left literal turds all over the bathroom. I went over there, helped him pack, and cleaned said roommate's bathroom leftovers. (Why am I mentioning a bathroom on a cooking blog? I am unsure. Mom- is this better than being too political? Leave a comment for me. LOL) We moved into the new place, and my desire to do things exactly my way collided with my then-boyfriend-now-husband's desire to do things the EXACT opposite of my desires. "Big kitchen utensils go here," I said. "Oh no, only terrorists and communists put big utensils in the drawer to the right of the stove!" my then-boyfriend-now-husband exclaimed. We had to invite our friend Steve over to mediate. He made us a pizza, and made unilateral decisions about where the big utensils went.
We miraculously (actually, we got into a fight, settled down, communicated well and moved forward. Looking back on it, that move, and all the issues that came with it, made me 100% certain I wanted to marry Tom. We didn't, and still don't, agree on everything. I'm stubborn, and he is opinionated. But, I realized then, and feel it now, that I have a partner. Not a yes man, or someone who will run when I dig in. It was one of those moments. When the dust had settled - yes, there were only 2 pillows allowed on our bed- but also, there was this absolutely committed communicative norm we created. So maybe moving is our thing. Dang. This whole paragraph is a parenthetical aside. Living up to my name here.) Where was I? Oh. Yes. We miraculously got through that move, and enjoyed two years living with each other in a 80s style apartment that had a jacuzzi tub in the bedroom. Photo proof here.
Our second move was, well wonderfully weird. Tom was on a "volunteer" trip with work to Belize, where he learned to scuba dive and speared invasive fish. I couldn't go with him because of my school schedule. We were moving two days after he got home. Yes, I did earn girlfriend of the year award that year. I packed everything up in time for him to get home. But it turns out, he proposed the night before we moved. I will forever think of that move fondly.
So maybe we have an actually awesome history with moving. But, as Tom said, "We're going to have to be nice. I can't propose again, and you already know you want to marry me." And yet, I STILL HATE MOVING. So, I obviously need a cocktail. And it's #cocktailcorner time anyway. But, I don't have time to experiment with a rhubarb shrub. I don't have time to play with an egg white flip. I have to throw random winter coats into a box. blah.
In walks my grocery store BFF, Trader Joes. I found these strawberry sodas, and they were relatively low calorie, and the ingredient list was promising. I finished a bottle of tequila, (this for sure counts as packing because I essentially eliminated a bottle that had to be moved from one place to another) measuring equal parts tequila and lime juice over ice, and topping with the strawberry soda. The result was the most perfectly tart and sweet smokey tequila cocktail. I think it'd likely be good with gin or vodka too, if you're like on of my best friends who drank too much tequila sophomore year of college (you know the party) and can't look at it anymore.
Does this count as cooking? No. Was it amazing? Yes. Should you try? For sure. But, this was a wordy post. So at least I am living up to the verbose part of my blog's name.