Joe's Notes: Two "dudes" walked into my bar. No, this is not the start of a joke, I don't tell jokes. Well, that is not entirely true, the truth is I can't tell jokes. Every time I try to tell a joke I forget the punch line or miss out some vital component. After I have told a joke, instead of peels of laughter reverberating through the bar I am left with a stony silence until somebody says "I don't get it." I think it is genetic because my father couldn't tell jokes either, but unlike myself he didn't realize it. He continued to make people squirm well into his old age.
Anyway, back to the two dudes. One dude says, "Do you have a special recipe for a White Russian?"
So, I give them my White Russian. They nod in agreement, and write the recipe down in a little book one of them pulls from his jacket pocket. "Are you bartenders?" I ask.
"No, we're planning a White Russian Party and we are collecting as many different recipes as we can find."
The head dude hands over the little book to me. Intrigued, I flick through the pages. The book not only contained recipes but little side notes. For example:
• Colorado Bulldog White Russian; just add a splash of coke.
• Tastes like chocolate milk.
• Bartender Judy, cute, but looks too much like my sister to date."
• White Russian with Malibu. Hate coconut, but some of the girls might like it. wonder what it would be like with banana?"
• Disgusting! Gross! do not try this at home!
• Blonde Russian, replace cream with Bailey's. Very good, would stay for another but think the bartender (Mike) is hitting on me.
Amused, I hand the book back to the dudes. They go on to tell me that they have collected 23 different recipes so far, and that mine is one of their favorites.
I hope you dudes had a great party. I know that you planned on showing "The Big Lebowski " and would love to know what food you served. I hope it wasn't pizza and hot wings; I can't imagine the clean-up the following morning.