I've been on a rum kick lately. There's just no getting around how perfect a spirit it is. It's tasty, smooth, mellow, and easy, with just the right hint of sweetness that'll complement any fun, summery drink.
And this cocktail, no matter how odd the moniker, is nothing else but a fun, summery drink.
1¾ ounces light rum
1¾ ounces apricot brandy
¼ ounce lime juice
In a shaker half-filled with ice cubes, combine all the ingredients. Shake well and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.
Whatever you do, don't sip. You can't really embrace this libation if you merely dab at it like a bird. You've got to take a big gulp and swish it around your mouth before you can judge properly.
Unique, isn't it?
The light rum provides a smooth but powerful alcoholic sweetness that is overlaid by the burnished fruity bouquet of the apricot brandy. The lime juice adds a sour kick that offsets the overwhelming sweetness and lends a bit of pucker to an already powerful combo. Best served in a chilled glass, for the coolness of temperature underscores the sugariness. The drink has a fruity flavor, no doubt, but there's a load of booze in it, and that helps assuage the nagging feeling that you're sipping a chick drink. Guys, it's strong enough to warrant your interest. Girls, it's sweet enough to try again, and again, and again.
My folks and I have a sort of deal going now where we go out on the town every month or so and try a new drink. We're hitting all the restaurants with bars and, while our table is prepared, we sit down and suck on a new cocktail that we don't have the materials for at home. This first month, we selected Red Lobster (my brother had sent me a $25 gift card, knowing how I adore seafood) and zombies.
So, without further ado, here is the recipe for a zombie. As I am rapidly coming to know, there are as many different versions of drink recipes as there are days in a year, but according to the taste of the Red Lobster Zombie, I believe this might be the most correct.
½ ounce 151-proof rum
1 ounce dark rum
2 ounces light rum
1 ounce pineapple juice
1 ounce orange juice
½ ounce apricot brandy
1 teaspoon sugar
1 ounce lime juice
1 pineapple slice
These ingredients, as far as I could see, were simply mixed in a highball glass. The pineapple slice was stuck on the rim of the glass as a garnish, obviously.
Impressive, eh? There are a couple of oddball ingredients in there that we didn't feel like purchasing a whole bottle of just to make one drink. (I blew way too much bread doing stuff like that in Korea.) Ahem...now, on to the review. I mentally composed it in my head as I sipped this drink. It sounds a bit too much like the shallow, twittering copy you'd find on a menu or a brochure, but I nonetheless think it would sound better if I reproduced it verbatim, so:
"If you think every tropical drink is all fruit and no booze, try this one! This drink actually has (no pun intended) some bite to it. The rum lurches up out of the pineapple juice like an undead flesh-eater thrashing its way out of the grave, with just as much murderous intent."
Okay, I did just make up that last sentence on the spot here. But it keeps the whole undead extended metaphor going, don't it?
Let's see here...how are we doing? Numbers 1 and 3 were washouts, No. 2 was an elaborate letdown, and No. 4 was tasty but effeminate. Fifth time's the charm?
Nope.
1½ ounces añejo rum
½ ounce apricot brandy
1 ounce pineapple juice
In a shaker half-filled with ice cubes, combine all the ingredients. Shake well. Strain into a cocktail glass.
I didn't have any añejo rum (a blend of aged rums), and I thought the local, cheap brand of dark rum (Captain Q) would suffice. I should've known better. I also should've known this would be too fruity (again), but (again) it seems I'm a bit stupid where it comes to predicting cocktail flavors based on ingredients. Ah well, it was palatable at least. It was the third (or was it fifth?) cocktail during one of my infamous parties, so by then I was in a generally equable sort of mood.
All I can say (again) is try it for yourself and see. At least this one's simple.
