Bloody Good Mary – 5:00 Fridays

I remember when I was in third grade or so my brother and I shared bathroom in our faux English tudor split level with wall to wall carpeting. It was the 70s. ‘Nuff said. There were double sinks with a wall size mirror and a door leading to a separate toilet and tub. My mother will tell you that I refused to wipe my own bottom because I was a germophobe even back then. I have few childhood memories but I do recall sitting on the potty with my feet dangling and yelling, “Mmmoooooommmmmmmm!” I  recall even wearing underwear into the bath. Did I think it was like a pool or what? Who knows. I’m over those issues now.

My older brother thought it would be loads of fun to creep me out one night, as older brothers are wont to do. He figured it would be a hoot to have me get my bloomers in a bundle over some scary escapades in a darkened bathroom. He held promises of something cool and special so I followed him trustingly into the bathroom. He promptly eeked his way out, shut the door, turned out the lights, and locked me in. I was a hyperventilating young lass of eight or so who hated all things associated with the bathroom as it was. I panicked. I freaked. I choked back my cries, lest my big brother keep me in there longer. He told me that the only way out was to close my eyes, spin around three times, and recite “Bloody Mary” as I spun. Then I was to open my eyes and look in the mirror.

Holy moly, that was some terrifying crap for a delicate child such as myself.

My brother told me that I’d see an image of a woman’s bloody face when I opened my eyes. I squeezed my closed so tightly I thought my eyeballs might sink into the folds of my brain. I trembled and spun ever so gingerly. I whimpered “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” LOUDER, he yelled. I couldn’t bring myself to speak in tones louder than a whisper. I opened my eyes.  I blinked. And blinked again. No bloody face stared back at me. Just my tear streaked cheeks taunted my gullibility and vulnerability. And then I screamed bloody murder.

Honestly, I don’t remember if anyone came running or if my brother got in trouble. All I know is that he opened the door, and I ran to the comfort of my room and my stuffed dog I had named Fluffy (so original, eh?).

Now 34 years later, I’m saluting my brother’s fright filled antics with a cocktail. He was an arse for being a bully, but since then he’s proven to be quite kind and generous. Little did we know back then just how good a real Bloody Mary is.

Bloody Good Mary

1 ounce hot pepper vodka (I use the Rain organic vodka I infused myself with habanero, Thai, and jalapeno peppers from my garden.)

3 or so ounces of tomato juice (low sodium, and don’t use pre-made bloody mary mix!)

dash of Worcestershire sauce

splash of clam juice

splash of Dirty Sue olive juice

1/2 teaspoon of fresh horseradish

healthy dash of Bagel Spice (SO delish! It’s all the goodness that tops an “Everything” bagel all bottled up!)

squeeze of a lime wedge

Garnish of your choice (carrot stick, celery stick, pickled okra, pickled green bean, chili pepper, speared green olives or cocktail onions, pickle spear, solitary steamed shrimp, lime wedge)

Fill a highball glass with ice. Add vodka and tomato juice. Plop in the Worcestershire sauce, clam juice, and olive juice. Stir in horseradish and Bagel Spice. Squeeze in lime juice. Garnish (For the record, my favorite Bloody Mary garnish is all of the above; I love having a snack in my glass.).

Dare: Drink down one of these, shut yourself in a dark bathroom, close your eyes, spin around three times reciting “Bloody Mary Bloody Mary Bloody Mary, open your eyes and look in the mirror.” Tell me what stares back at you.