A Dutch Christmas
I had a fantastic Christmas. I mean, it was the best ever.
Our house was robbed, our dogs ran away, our horse died, and all I got for Christmas was a replacement wedding ring that I had lost in a strip joint in Vegas. I know, it sounds like a bad country song. (I actually didn’t lose my ring in Vegas. It sat at the bottom of my pool for a week but it was too cold to fetch, and then it was just gone). Oh, and my credit card number was pilfered and somebody had a grand ol' time in Paris spending $15k in one weekend.
So why, you ask, do I say that my Christmas was fantastic? Two words: Pennsylvania Dutch. Given my string of bad luck, I thought it only fitting to indulge myself in that most pleasurable of holiday treats.
In fact, I found that Pennsylvania Dutch was the best answer to almost every question over the holidays.
-Want a drink? Why yes, I’ll have some Pennsylvania Dutch if you please.
-Want to watch TV? Yes, and be a good girl and fetch me a dram of Pennsylvania Dutch.
-Want a sandwich? No, I’m saving the calories for a Touch of the Dutch.
-Want some breakfast? Sure. Well, on second thought, pour me a tumbler of P-Dutch instead, will ya?
-Do you know where my sunglasses are? I thought you’d never ask, but yes I’d love a tall glass of cold Pennsylvania Dutch.
What is Pennsylvania Dutch? You grind up half an elf, capture the seed after pleasuring a reindeer, toss in a pair of Santa’s drawers, put it in a blender, have it blessed by an Amish elder, and Pennsylvania Dutch is what you get on the other end.
Actually it’s three-quarters bottom-shelf brandy, rum, and bourbon that quality control at any self-respecting distillery would normally pour down the drain, and mix it with one-fourth slightly curdled cream, and that’s Pennsylvania Dutch. So naturally, it’s absolutely delicious. It’s like Zeus is peeing in your mouth. The minute Thanksgiving comes around, I start buying it up by the case, because it goes fast in my town.
The only question when having a Touch o’ the Dutch is: neat or on the rocks? My rule of thumb is to always drink P-Dutch neat before noon, as if it were a glass of milk or, say, a vitamin shake; and on the rocks after noon, as then it’s more of a cocktail. But those are just my rules. I don’t pay the mortgage at your house, so you can make your own rules. What’s great about the Dutch is it’s an appropriate aperitif at any time of day, at least it is at my house where I am paying the mortgage.
And P-Dutch is a versatile mixer too -- it allows you get in touch with your creative side, if you have one. If you don't, drink 16 ounces of the Dutch and you will. Diageo kindly sent me a bottle of Godiva chocolate-infused vodka (it’s more like Aphrodite peeing in your mouth). You put a shot of that into a moderately clean glass, top it off with some P-D, and walla! You have what I call the Flying Dutchman. Two shots of vodka and it’s called the Headless Dutchman. Three shots, Vomiting Dutchman. Add a banana and blend, the Kraaaazy Dutchman (he’s gone toootally bananas!! Badda-bing). Add chocolate syrup and blend, the Tan Dutchman, An Oxymoron Drink (alternatively called "Dutch Chocolate" and "Dutch West Indies"). Add sauerkraut and blend, the Boer (do not recommend). Add strawberries and blend, the Fairy Dutchman - It's Fabulous! Forget to put the top on the blender and it leaks all over the place, we call that The Julian Assange Wiki-Dutch (har-de-har-har). And so on.
But be warned: Too much Pennsylvania Dutch and you will soon be “going Dutch” on dates on Match.com because your spouse will have left you. There’s nothing quite so pathetic as somebody who is prostrate and debauched on Dutch. But it’s almost worth it.