The Pimm's Cup Experience by Ann Weatherhead:
I’ve been offered a spot on this exalted blog to tell the world about my Pimm’s Cup Experience.
The back story: Kate and Andy met me at the Café du Monde, and after having some café au lait and beignets, and so taking in three of the four major New Orleans food groups, grease, sugar, and caffeine, we made our way up Royal Street to check out a band, and to complete the food group quartet with some adult beverages.
I’ve been offered a spot on this exalted blog to tell the world about my Pimm’s Cup Experience.
The back story: Kate and Andy met me at the Café du Monde, and after having some café au lait and beignets, and so taking in three of the four major New Orleans food groups, grease, sugar, and caffeine, we made our way up Royal Street to check out a band, and to complete the food group quartet with some adult beverages.
Andy suggested we try a Pimm’s Cup. I’d never heard of such a thing, but have a dim memory of seeing a bottle of Pimm’s in my dad’s liquor cabinet. And you’ve got to love a drink with the word “cup” in its name. It suggests quantity, and has other happy connotations, like a cup o’ kindness, and lovin’ cup. I went in to the Napoleon House to cop the cup, and there were some youngsters, (which, at my stage of the game, is almost everyone) who were deciding what to drink. I recommended the PC, and one guy said that his grandmother used to drink those. I asked where his grandmother was from and he said Baltimore. (I resisted the urge to say bad things about B’more for stealing the Browns, since his grandmother probably had very little to do with that.)
A Pimm’s Cup appears to have three ingredients: Pimm’s, (which is apparently a British concoction, made of heaven only knows what,) a lemonade looking mixer, and a clear liquid which I hope was vodka or gin, but which I suspect was water. It came with a cucumber garnish. It’s bitter and sweet, and tastes like something from my childhood, but I can’t remember what. (The old joke is that memory is the second thing to go. What’s the first? I forget. Hysterical, I know.)
I don’t know if you can get a Pimm’s Cup anywhere other than in New Orleans and at that guy’s grandmother’s house. I doubt it would be a delicious as the ones I had from a plastic cup in the sunshine on a New Orleans street listening to a live band with family and friends.
The whole experience inspired a haiku: French Quarter Fest and //the Pimm’s Cup Experience://Complete happiness.
Thank you, Aunt Ann, for that awesome contribution to my blog! As my coworkers can attest, haiku writing runs in our family. Viewers, please be sure to note the complete happiness we all exude in the following pictures. Brought to you by, the Pimm's Cup Experience!
The man in the picture below is showing us his awesomeness by standing really still for several minutes. That takes talent. Get the man a Pimm's Cup!
