I would admire mixologists more if they were meaner. The idea that a cocktail can be made with certain ingredients in a certain way to cause or assuage specific feelings is noble. That said, I don’t always want to feel good. Sometimes, being punched in the face is the best medicine.
I invented the Mental Funeral for a series I did on Revolver Magazine’s website. Named after the classic Autopsy album, the drink was invented with one goal in mind: give the consumer a splitting headache. Yes, just as scotch breeds a warm comfort and tequila sparks a bawdy madness, so would the Mental Funeral cause its drinker to clutch their head and hiss between their teeth.
As such, approach with caution. Make one or two of these at your leisure–Hell, make ’em all night, really drive home that spike. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.
The Mental Funeral
- 1 pt. Jim Beam Red Stag
- 1 pt. Blackberry schnapps
- 1 pt. Amaretto
Stir liquors in a high ball over ice. Add champagne to cover. Drink quickly, before the pain begins.