Sometimes there comes a realization that you have to do something but you aren’t sure how to mend your negative self. When a few too many unfortunate things happen we may accidentally become a negative Nancy, Debbie downer, or just downright not ourselves. My main rule is that every single bloody mary should have enough horseradish so it looks like a pillow exploded inside the drink and there are millions of tiny feathers floating everywhere.People and anything going on around us are major mood influencers.
Pok Pok uses fish sauce in their bloody mary.
Some spots in New York will add a splash of Guinness. While I don't like cheese-curd scaffolding over a bloody mary, I do like seeing new and exciting mixes. If you want to deconstruct a food tower before enjoying a drink, sure. I’ll eat it real quick or dismantle the thing and put the hot dog off to the side.” Whatever. “But it’s way up high on a skewer,” you say, “so it won’t get wet. If you don’t want to worry about getting bloody mary on a hot dog then do not put a hot dog inside a bloody mary. You’re a lovable freak and I’m curious about how you turned out this way and who taught you how to live, but go for it. If you want to eat a hot dog bun that’s mushy with bloody mary mix, then by all means do it. Nothing should be in a bloody mary that you don’t want to soak in tomato juice and then eat. Now, after years of drinking them, I have some opinions. I'd see them in airports resting on wet napkins and gag. When I was a kid I hated the smell and general concept of bloody marys. There are a few exceptions to the crappy restaurant bloody, sure, but when I want a bloody mary, I make it myself: Tomato juice, Worcestershire, Tabasco, horseradish, lemon juice, vodka, salt, and pepper. I really don’t want a doughnut on my bloody mary. I don’t want a slice of pizza, chicken wing, or fried pickle on my bloody mary. I don’t want a mini-cheeseburger on my bloody mary. I don’t want a seafood tower on my bloody mary.
At this point, the drink is essentially nothing more than a vessel for a cornucopia of ridiculous toppings-pure Instagram-bait. The average restaurant bloody mary is a chalice of well vodka and sugary, watered-down, bottled mix. I’ve been to too many birthday brunches masquerading as excuses to day drink to believe otherwise. Call me a Negative Nancy/Debbie Downer/Other Semi-Sexist Alliterative Term (actually, don’t do that), but I think most restaurant bloody marys are BS. In my opinion, the only good bloody mary is a homemade bloody mary. Kat Kinsman, Senior Food and Drinks Editor Wanna judge me for it? I bloody well don’t care. If I do indulge, I tend toward a maria (with tequila rather than vodka), and I’ve even been known to enjoy some pickle brine-based McClure’s mix with nothing but seltzer and ice for a virgin mary. You like a head of cabbage and a Peking duck in your drink and wanna guzzle that alongside your dinner entrée, or late night in a dive bar? Mazel. Thing is, the bartender never seemed to levy any sort of assessment-just poured, tossed in a celery stick if there was one on hand, and collected the cash, same as they did with my calculated-to-impress Vesper or Gibson-which frankly could have benefitted from a splash of tomato juice, because they’re kinda boring and get you hammered hella quick. It was, to my mind, relegated to the brunching hours and I’d smirk the smirk of the newly-indoctrinated cocktail snob at any rube who’d think to order one at a bar, especially after sundown. It wasn’t the drink necessarily, but rather my own bourgeois hangups about the context in which it was acceptable to order one. I used to be judgy about other people’s bloody mary consumption.