Adding fresh pineapple to a drink in no way guarantees pineapple flavor…or any flavor for that matter. Trust me on this one.
For those who are surprised by my love of cooking…you may also be surprised to learn I have a sous chef. Yes, that’s right. A Sous Chef. My life is just that glamorous. Okay, maybe not. But I do occasionally have a kitchen assistant and he is the first to bring me back to reality when I allow myself to fantasize about becoming the next Julia Child. This usually happens with the phrase: “What is that mess you’re making?” Over the years (and I added that just because he cringes when I tell people how long I’ve known him), I’ve found his willingness to expand his involvement in the kitchen is dictated by three things: The use of Bacon, Sharp Knives and Excessive Heat.
Last night he was lured in by sight of a whole pineapple. Read: Sharp Knife Needed.
I should note–there was a brief protest over the fact there were no dancing hula girls accompanying said pineapple. (Just a suggestion Dole Foods…) Thankfully the protest ended when, with one swish of my hips, he realized a man must be careful in what he wishes for. It was amazing how quickly his concentration was restored.
If the truth be told, this pineapple was a little past it’s prime. Naturally I didn’t tell him this because he was doing such a good job of cutting it. And let’s face it: I enjoy tormenting him that way.
But all was not lost. After all, there’s nothing a little vodka can’t bring back to life, right? WRONG. After five minutes of pineapple mashing, vodka splashing, and blender whirling, it was still as tasteless as a pretzel at a baseball game.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Enter the Creme de Banana. Reserved for those moments when we’re overtaken by the urge to set the kitchen on fire, it held real promise.
One shot. Nothing.
Two shots. Maybe…
Three shots and it was starting to have potential.
That, my friends, is how to make the most of a bad situation.