Many, many years ago, when we were exceedingly poor and even less worldly, we came of age. Demelza, it must be admitted, came of age some years before Itzal. (We won’t say precisely how many years, because Itzal is a gentleman. Neither will we disclose anyone’s weight in this blog.) Nonetheless, for purposes of this post, we will imagine Itzal and Demelza in their tender adult years more or less at the same time.
The Adult Beverages of our (Legal) Youth
As our readers know, these days we love a craft cocktail, and we have the liquor cabinets to show it. But when we were 21 (ish), we tried on beverages like pieces of clothing, searching for what was “us.” We tried margaritas and rum and Coke, to be sure. A Tequila Sunrise was a rite of passage. We swung from single mixer, single liquor drinks like the Vodka and Cranberry to vat-like punches that likely should never have been concocted, much less consumed. And then there were Blue Nun and Cold Duck (what the heck were they, anyhow? Did we enjoy them or just endure them?).
When we were out and about town, we visited a local Tiki bar that served up Scorpions, Mai Tais, and other drinks with lots of rum and fruit and tiny paper umbrellas. Another local spot offered a drink that tasted like a chocolate banana milkshake. In fact, that might have been the creation’s name. We assume there was alcohol somewhere within it, otherwise why were we asked for ID? But fundamentally all these drinks, with their mixers and their fruits and their creams, masked the fact that there was anything alcoholic about them. In retrospect, perhaps that was not a good thing.
Years passed; our wallets were less lean, and our palates were more sophisticated or, perhaps, suffered from ennui. Demelza explored the nuances of wines, while Itzal assessed the intricacies of syrups, specialty liquors, and bitters to develop more refined cocktails. It’s a science, we learned; leave out the bitters or the quarter ounce of whatever and you have a different drink. We researched (we’re geeks), and we judged accordingly. To this day, we consult books and the Internet and, occasionally, vary this or that and decide which version we like best.
A couple of weeks ago, we made a margarita that was nothing more than frozen limeade, vodka, and triple sec. It tasted sweet and tart and not boozy. It went down easy. And we loved it.
Perhaps it reminded us of our youth.
Scents can remind one of a particular place and time. Honeysuckle, for example, reminds Demelza of a shampoo she used in her early college years, while less glamorously, the odor of mothballs brings back summer afternoons spent at her great-grandparents’ house.
Music, too, can put you in mind of a place or time: If you hear a tune from your high school decade, are you not immediately transported to that time?
Surely, then, taste, too, can bring to mind a bygone time and place.
And what if two are combined? A taste, a song?
Ah, Sugar Sugar. Remember this song from the late 60s, early 70s, sung by the cartoon group, The Archies? “The wonder of this feeling?”
When we first tried adult beverages – not in the 70s, mind you! – our drinks were often heavily sugared. Our video games (or still earlier, arcade ) were, by today’s standards, humble. But over time, we progressed from a simple Vodka Cranberry and Eight-bit Link to a modern day Cosmopolitan and Breath of the Wild. The sounds of the original Zelda still haunt us, however; when we hear them in a later game, we sigh nostalgically. Is there anything to match the Overworld theme? That simple tune magicks us 30 years into the past, as if we were robots in Lanayru brought back to life by a thwack on a Timeshift Stone.
It’s fascinating, this interplay of song and scent, taste and time, past and present. And – to mix our musical metaphors – if we had a chance to do it all again, would we? Could we?
Life, of late, can be sour. Let’s pour a little sugar on it, baby. Mix up that limeade margarita. Revisit the chocolate banana milkshake, with or without alcohol. And maybe one day we’ll have a cutscene in which Link sings to Zelda, just once, “And you got me wanting you.”