With St Patrick’s Day on the approach, let me tell you about a little cocktail I invented with some charming Irish barmen.
It was a friend’s birthday. We were on pub #2, or possibly #3, I’m not entirely sure. What I do know is that we were somewhere a hair north of Victoria Park in that bit of Hackney which is earnestly convinced of its own tin-ceiling, low-watt-exposed-bulb authenticity.
I’m not sure how the subject of Enya came up. Perhaps her ethereal tones were wafting down from the perfectly balanced sound system. Perhaps, like the mythical pooka, she simply senses an opportunity to emerge in conversation whenever two or more Irish barmen of the charming variety are talking together. Such truths are beyond the mere prosaic comprehension of one who is not of the Land of Saints and Scholars, and especially beyond one who is not a low-wattage tin-ceilinged Hackney denizen.
Whatever the reason–the quantity of drink may have contributed somewhat–we began to wonder what ‘The Enya’ might be, were it a cocktail. Merriment ensued.
After some deliberation, we settled on the following concoction. I do not, alas, have proportions for this, so I suggest experimenting on your own or with friends:
Fresh lime juice
The Enya is smoky, sweet, effervescent and breathes a hint of sea breezes wafting over green fields. Just as she should.