Once upon a time, long long ago, on New Years Eve in the small town of Calabasas, California, one of us Husbands had a liiittle too much to drink. And by “too much,” we mean polishing off a half a bottle of whiskey in just a few seconds. Adam was fifteen years old, and it was one of his first times drinking alcohol. After ringing in the New Year and watching Dick Clark’s annual celebration in Times Square on TV, his parents went to bed, while he and a friend began to raid their liquor cabinet. They started by pouring an entire bottle of whiskey into two large glasses filled with ice, plugging their noses, and chugging the contents as quickly as possible. While his friend disappeared to the restroom, he continued to consume more alcohol, gulping Kahlua straight from the bottle. As you can imagine, this unfortunate combination of liquids obviously didn’t agree with his skinny teenage body. Things got a little foggy after that, and the next thing he remembers is a man from the fire department asking him, “What did you drink, son?” “Whi-key,” he weakly mumbled, lacking the strength to pronounce the S. Apparently, he had been calling out to his mother, helplessly and hopelessly intoxicated, and she found him lying on the floor in the den—the details of which we will spare you since this is a cooking blog after all. Long story short, the paramedics determined that he would be okay and there was no need to take him to the hospital. Ever since that delightful day, “Whi-key” has not been a part of Adam’s life… until last December when he tried a double chocolate bourbon milkshake which changed everything.
