Indigo Tries Bailey's Irish Cream!

10 out of 10
When I was growing up, I learned about the past of my family. We can trace lines into Wales, Ireland and Italy, all from different grandparents. I believe that the Italian lines are what show the most in our family. I grew up with this focus on La Familia that follows me to this day. The Irish in me is most apparent though. My eyes are hazel, with green and brown. I have light brown hair that turns yellow with enough sunlight. But my skin really shows it off. I am very pale, usually the lightest color on every foundation palette (and believe me, I’ve tried a few). I also sprout freckles like trees sprout flowers in the spring. The contrast between me and my family is pretty clear. I am tall and bring in the Welsh and Irish roots of my grandmother. The rest of my siblings and cousins are short, with dark hair, blue eyes and they actually manage to tan once in awhile. Tanning is something I’ve dreamed about but never done. It’s probably not physically possible.
So when I started learning about different cultures, I heard the usual jokes. “You’re Irish, so you’re always drunk.” “You’re Italian, so you’re part of the mob.” “You’re Welsh so you…um, what do the Welsh do?” It was the Irish jokes that rang the most true for me. I was raised as part of a family that allowed drinking at younger ages. I have stories of young Indigo getting drunk on accident, and I have the best stories of young Indigo getting drunk on purpose.
Bailey’s Irish Cream is a particular brand of alcohol represents a lot to me. It’s a delicious drink that hides in coffee. It makes something that I enjoy even better. But it’s also covert. It’s sneaky. If I’m not careful, it will take over the whole drink. Instead of enjoying a coffee with a kick, I’ll be making coffee that is mostly Bailey’s. It’s okay to do that occasionally, but I don’t want to do it all the time.
My mother is a huge fan of Irish Coffee. We don’t often eat out as a family. It’s even less often that the restaurant has Irish Coffee as an option. But when the stars align and we decide to have a post-dinner drink, my mother will always order an Irish Coffee. This drink is also common in my sister’s house, where I enjoy weekly visits rights now. Though there isn’t a lot of hard liquor there, she always has Bailey’s on hand. Because of these, I really associate Bailey’s Irish cream with the reliability of family. Sometimes that means it’s more like a pest, when you only have Bailey’s but you really wanted some Godiva liquor.
Now, Irish coffee also includes Jameson. And we know that our friend Jamie leads me to my best worst best decisions. And I think that only makes Irish Coffee even more appropriate for family. Family is such a rocky subject for me, and having something as untrustworthy as Jameson being paired so beautifully with Bailey’s is a perfect metaphor for my interactions with my family. And this is why I don’t drink Irish Coffee by myself. When I look into the glass, and I watch the cream swirl, I can’t help but remember the struggles and the bad times. But when I drink with the people who can pull me out of my cup and into the fun world, an Irish Coffee can ground me in my roots.
I’m not an alcoholic, but I am Irish in a lot of ways. The roots are subtle, and they’ve been overshadowed by a big Italian tree. But they still run through my blood and into my life. I wouldn’t give them up any more than I would remove Jameson from a good Irish Coffee.
Indigo’s Best Recipe for an Irish Coffee

  • 1 shot of Jameson Whiskey (no other brand will do)
  • Coffee, already brewed, and preferably still hot (cold brew is not great for this)
  • Bailey’s (to taste)

Brew the coffee and grab a mug. Pour the coffee into your mug leaving a lot of room for cream and sugar. Sugar the coffee almost to taste (you want it slightly less sweet to accent the other flavors). Do the shot of Jameson. Pour another. Put THAT shot in the coffee. Why? Because something can kick in while the coffee cools enough to drink. Lastly, add the Bailey’s until it reaches the desired color. You can top with whipped cream too, if you’re like me. Otherwise, enjoy as it is!
Additional Idea! For an Iced Irish Coffee, make some coffee the day before and pour into an ice cube tray. Use those ice cubes to cool off your coffee!
Additional Additional Idea! You can also just sip Bailey’s with some coffee ice cubes. Bailey’s on the rocks is a delicious and refreshing dessert drink!
 

Indigo Tries the Love Martini!

10 out of 10
This drink is robbed directly from the menu of The Melting Pot, and I am not sorry about it, because they named it something as stupid as “The Love Martini.”
Earlier this year, my platonic life partner went to The Melting Pot with her coworkers and they had a great time. The group ordered this drink because the ingredients sounded delicious. (It involved Cranberry Juice and Peach Schnapps, which is a favorite combination in our house. Seriously, that drink tastes like a push pop.) Try it. This drink was developed specifically for the Valentine’s Day events at the Melting Pot, which probably explains that awful name. Being the group of beautiful humans that they are, my partner and her coworkers immediately befriended the waitress and the bartender in order to find out the exact recipe of the drink.
Since discovering the recipe, we have used this drink at every gathering of friends, and even taken it camping. This particular drink has has been my companion around many firesides this summer. I love sitting with it in hand, blissfully tipsy and watching the conversation go by.
What I love about this drink is that it seems to be as versatile as any cocktail can get. I can easily drink many glasses of this and be roaring drunk. Or I could sip on this with a few friends around a board game and enjoy a mellow tipsy time. It allows a lot of room for modifiers. You could add grenadine for more sweetness or orange juice for more tartness. You could muddle mint and change it into a mojito.
For me, alcoholic beverages are a staple for group gatherings. My friends and I can get together without drinking and have an excellent time, but it’s companionable to crack open a few beers (or pour a few cocktails) and chat. The alcohol relaxes those of us who are anxious, and it loosens the conversation to explore new things.
The Love Martini is a perfect drink to walk these lines. It can be drunk by many people because it’s gluten-free (unlike beer) and it’s tasty. So if you don’t enjoy tasting the alcohol in your alcohol, you can still enjoy this drink. It’s fruity, so many people like the taste of it, but cranberry juice isn’t so sweet that it’s overwhelming. As I pointed out before, you can add any number of ingredients to modify it to your liking. Even simple syrup to make it more sweet is easy.
Now before I finish up, I want to talk about this name. The Love Martini is a trash name for this drink. I think it sounds childish, and I don’t even know if I could say it out loud to order it. I would just point at the menu and say “that one please…the love one.” It makes me think of Harry Potter, but in the way that the Love Potions in Harry Potter only emulated love, not created actual love. That’s how I feel about this drink when I call it The Love Martini: I don’t love it. I just think I do.
Now, I would love to actually fall in love with this drink. To that end, let me help them rename it. Here are a few options :

  • St. Valentine’s Blood
  • Bleeding Heart
  • Valentine’s Juice
  • Berry ‘Em in Romance
  • The COCKtail (for after hours)

Or my personal favorite:

  • The Heartini

So this cocktail has quickly become a new favorite both in my household and in the groups I camp and socialize with. We will continue to enjoy this drink, and I hope you enjoy the recipe I place below for The Heartini (Melting Pot, I will happily take a payout so you can use that name).
The Heartini

  • 1 part coconut rum
  • 1 part peach schnapps
  • 4 parts of Cranberry Juice

Mix all ingredients over ice, or in cocktail shaker. Enjoy!
Variations:
The Love Mintini (I’m okay with it because it’s a pun now): Muddle a few sprigs of mint in the glass before adding liquids.
Orange You Glad I Heart You: Exchange two parts of cranberry juice for orange juice.
The Secret Admirer: Add a small splash of Grenadine.

Indigo Has Drunken Sex!

Either 10 or 0 out of 10 AND NO WHERE BETWEEN THAT.
Pairs nicely with Jameson. That seems to be the typical drink of my best/worst decisions. However, it may work out better if you add in a cheap beer, rum and/or tequila. Please don’t kill yourself. I have the constitution of a 18-hand horse. You might not.

*ALSO PLEASE DRINK AND FUCK RESPONSIBLY. COERCION IS BAD. IF YOU’RE THE ONLY SOBER ONE, THAT. IS. COERCION.*

This summer, I have spent all of my time out in Colorado, living in a tent, and going to some pretty excellent drinking events. On the fourth of July, I enjoyed a particularly good party on a bit of land where the neighbors weren’t close, and there were plenty of trees to muffle our fairly loud revelry. And against all my own advice, I got extremely drunk. We played a few rounds of beer pong and I was getting good, before they passed me some whiskey, and then I was right back to being awful at it. And throughout the night, I had teased one other party-goer. Usually when I have a beer in hand, I’ll either cuss you out or kiss you. If you’re really lucky, it’s both. This guy took all the insults I threw at him with a good humor (and if I recall correctly, threw some back). Though I was too drunk to notice, I realize now that he may have been watching me for most of the night.
As the party began to wind down, I was sitting underneath some cover and watching the rain pour. He walked up and began chatting. What we talked about is a bit fuzzy now, but it was innocent enough. Until he mentioned the words “Daddy Dom” and I immediately lost my chill. Somewhere in there, he clearly stated that he thought I was attractive, and he mentioned that he was a Daddy Dom, and I mentioned that I am a Little, and the order of events is lost to time, but these things all did happen somewhere.
I didn’t know him very well, but he was being so up front and extremely sweet. I asked him if I could kiss him. He said yes, and we did kiss, which sparked the chemistry that had been gently building over the night. I now wonder if I was so drunk that I didn’t notice the chemistry until that moment. I was in a group of new people I didn’t know, and that made me nervous, so that most likely also factored into my attention span.
He sat down and we began to chat about our sex lives, what we liked and some minimal negotiation. I wanted this, and even though we were both drunk (and therefore it was technically illegal), I decided to continue anyway. I don’t usually advise this, but I know myself as a slut, and he had earlier identified as a slut. Our negotiation even covered STI status and condom usage. As a result, our consent was informed, continuous, and enthusiastic. We spent a good half an hour chatting like this, which included a lot of compliments. He basically gushed about my hips, which was pretty amazing, as I feel they are often neglected.
Now, I don’t have a type. I have had sex with people of all shapes and sizes. When I do have a type, it usually turns out to be a personality trait that I enjoy. It turns out that whiskey and half an hour of compliments is sometimes exactly my type.
Well, as I said, we were all camping, so he had a trailer to sleep in. Not like a sleeping/live-in trailer though. It was a simple box with an air mattress, which as it turns is an EXCELLENT choice, and I would 100% repeat. He has a small stature, but I was completely in love with his dick, which had the perfect size to suck, and it felt amazing in every hole (and yes, we tried them ALL).
It’s taken me almost a week to unpack this interaction. Not in a bad way, quite the opposite. I have since spent many minutes (possibly hours) just remembering the compliments, and the movements. I remember the very thoughtful way he reassured me in the morning (and yes there was morning sex, which science has proven is the most delicious kind of sex). I remember the way he touched me, and listened to what I wanted. I remember how when I asked for less movement, but more pressure, he said “Thank you,” which had never happened before. I remember how this very drunk interaction was surprisingly romantic, and incredibly respectful.
Somewhere within this contemplation, I have realized something that shocks me a little bit: I am extremely depressed. I could have seen it coming. I’m in a new place, with new people. Most of my closest friends are far away, and I’m afraid to ask for help from those I can. I have spent more than usual amounts of time by myself. I am feeling unstable. Though I love the adventure, and I would never give this up, I’m also lonely. Even that night, I was battling anxiety and depression as I always am. But this turned into an amazing experience that I’ll probably hold on to forever.
So what happened that I could actually have this amazing sex without my brain interrupting every five minutes? Well, Jameson. And Corona. And someone genuinely excited about my body. All this meant that suddenly, my loneliness and second-guessing was gone. My brain could open up and let me relax into someone else’s bed. I wasn’t worried about catching feelings or if I was clean enough (though we both mentioned showering that day) or whether my oral would be good enough. Even in all that, I am very grateful to myself that we swapped our STI statuses, and I insisted on condoms every step of the way, which did involve delaying our interaction so he could grab some from the car. The alcohol allowed me to stop checking myself, and ask for things I really wanted. It allowed me to love every sensation I received. I was able to make every noise that my body told me to. On the other hand, it didn’t strip me of my roots, or common sense. It didn’t erase the need for protection and safety.
More than that, it allowed my senses to expand a bit. When my memories became a little less fuzzy, I thought about how dark it was in that trailer. However, I could also still experience everything as full as I would in a lit room. I didn’t see it with my eyes, but I felt it with my fingertips. I heard the sounds. I expanded my limbs, finding edges, walls and his body. With this limited information, I can still reconstruct the whole thing. The part that shocks me most? I also did this in the moments I was having sex. If you aren’t impressed, you don’t understand. My brain, inebriated as it was, interpreted senses to tell me about my environment in the same or similar language as another sense, which was essentially out of commission. Brains are so amazing, y’all.
So this is more of a personal story than an educational post, but I do want to hop in while I’m on the subject, on some very important things. This one drunk interaction was good, and I’ve had a lot of similar interactions with partners and lovers. Good, relaxed sex. It fulfilled me and helped me wake up happy. It helped me through the alcohol and the endorphins prevented a complete crash (because alcohol is still a depressant, even followed up with sex).
However, I’m not perfect. I have gotten drunk and had sex that I did not enjoy. Do I regret my decisions? No. I wasn’t coerced, and the other party was also drunk. It’s a policy of mine that if I have sex while drunk, that person is a partner of mine, or they are also drunk. And I try to inform all people I drunkenly approach of this. My one negative experience of drunk sex was at a con many years ago. I drank a LOT of rum. And I do mean almost an entire handle. I spent some time at a bar in the hotel I was in, and I met someone whose name I think was Brian. I don’t remember anymore, honestly. I had cotton mouth, he had alcohol-affected dick. Later, I left his room and walked to mine. I think I left him a note, explaining that he was nice, but he snored. I have no idea if that note was legible.
I think what I mean to say is that getting laid while inebriated (or high) is pretty fun. For some people in some situations it can be good (or great). But I don’t want to downplay the importance of decisions made around sex and consent while drunk. It just so happens that this person and I both knew how to have these conversations, and wanted each other. Alcohol helped me process the positive and negatives of being out in a new place with new people, and brought an interaction I might have otherwise missed.
 

Indigo Tries Woodchuck Cider!

10 out of 10
Would recommend for anyone who likes sweeter drinks.
Across the nation, folks who attend Renaissance Festivals enjoy cider of some kind. Over at the Maryland Renaissance Festival, Angry Orchard is the brand of choice. However, at many others, Woodchuck is the go-to. It’s mentioned by several bands in the Renaissance circuit.
Of course, the most common style of Woodchuck Cider is the Amber. It’s marketed as the first cider Woodchuck made, and it’s known as the best if you’re looking for something “basically just cider.” I’ve said similar things about Angry Orchard Cider, which I reviewed in February. Between the two, I feel that you get the best sides of hard cider. I’m finding it really hard not to compare the two.
So let’s start with the Angry Orchard experience. Crisp Apple is exactly how it sounds. It’s sour and acidic. It’s a kick in the face with a deep smooth apology and a strong taste of apple. The aftertaste is where I live with Crisp Apple. It’s a little unfortunate that the best taste is in the last moment of a sip. However, it’s a little easier than beer, so if you have a hard time with hops, this is still a great alternative.
On the other end of the spectrum, Woodchuck has a very strange, but wonderful bitter taste to it as you first sip it. This bitterness is only a contrast to the smooth sweetness of it’s full taste. It lingers in a beautiful mix of apple, and possible honey or molasses. Woodchuck is a smoother ride than Angry Orchard. If you like sweeter drinks, or syrupy things like grenadine, this is the choice for you.
All in all, my personal favorite of the two is Woodchuck. I finally finished the battle that was started so many years ago. We had both ciders and no one could agree which was the superior one. I was still too new to cider to really have an opinion. And everyone else was too drunk to really make a decision that night, but I have my decision on this night. Indigo likes smooth, sweet drinks. As a result, Woodchuck is the winner.
However, it doesn’t have to be the winner for everyone. Some folks prefer the acid of Angry Orchard. Sometimes, even I want a drink that isn’t so sweet. However, my sweet tooth will usually prevail, and I will prefer Woodchuck Amber to Angry Orchard’s Crisp Apple.
I have another flavor by Angry Orchard in my fridge right now. How will that compare? We’ll have to wait and see.

Indigo Tries Best Damn Root Beer

9 out of 10
Would recommend if you enjoy peace and kittens
5.5% alcohol, based in St. Louis, MO
Comes in 12 ounce bottles, ~10$ for a 6-pack.
So, now adult root beer is on the rise. This a trend I can really get behind. In my youth, I guzzled soda like a fiend whenever I could get my hands on it. In my adulthood, I have grown away from that, EXCLUDING ROOT BEER. I can never get enough of it’s sweet, nutty goodness. I have been to this shop to try all the different brands I can.
They also have Ale-8-One which is a drink my entire family can get behind. It has become a present in all my Christmas shopping. But I digress.
Best Damn is a company that takes Root Beer and completely tilts it on it’s head. As a kid, I found root beer to the sweetest of sodas, making up for the tingly carbonation with the smoothness of the vanilla. I thought of it as a definite KID drink. And simultaneously decided I would drink it until I died of old age.
Best Damn set out on a mission to help me drink Root Beer to my heart’s content. Plus I can get drunk at the same time! Root Beer: Not just for kids anymore.
Best Damn never reveals on it’s website how the Root Beer is brewed, but it’s pretty clear to me that it’s brew like normal, boring, kid root beer with yeast added somewhere. It’s distinctly possible that the yeast is added with a little hops to create the wonderful drink that is Best Damn Root Beer. It truly is a throwback to the days of my youth.
However, it’s not all great.
Because of the sugar added in the brewing, I get a wicked hangover from Best Damn in a way that regular beer does not induce. I delightedly drank about four of these one night, on an empty stomach. So I was really in my prime to get a buzz from this. That buzz turned into a gentle drunk, and I went to sleep with a fuzzy head. The next morning, I woke up and felt awful. I do not mean physically awful. I woke up with a larger depressive episode than I really thought possible. I barely made it into work that day, and I spent a good amount of time talking to my best friend about why life is hard.
I realize that this does not happen to everyone, but my body chemistry makes hangovers with sugar a real problem. I should really avoid getting drunk on exclusively sugary drinks, which is common in many carbon-based humans.
There is also an aftertaste of hops in the drink. Every sip reminds me that this is an alcoholic drink, not to be messed with. It may go down smooth, but my buzz tonight and hangover tomorrow will make me regret drinking a whole six pack.
In short, this drink is really a nice break from today’s market of IPAs and Strong Stouts. I’d happily use this for a sipping drink (or hair of the dog)!
Bonus: Best Damn has ALL THESE RECIPES FOR IT. I haven’t tried them, but they look delicious!