Life is stranger than our dreams.
It often happens that truth is stranger than fiction, and in the case of my first reference here, which comes from a John Le Carré novel, there is indeed a real place called Ginger Pig, which is in fact a real butcher in London, specializing in North York Moors cuts. My people--many generations back on my father's side (the Calefs)--originated, according to genealogical references, in the West Yorkshire region of England. There is in addition a Ginger Pig catering company/bistro/cafe (also in the UK) and a lady who markets jewelry under the same name (not sure where she is).
Casting about for a name to attach to this new concoction, The Ginger Pig just popped into my mind, certainly because one of the ingredients had a ginger flavor.
Ginger Pig Tails
The first girl who ever had a crush on me was a red-head--in the first grade. She was Nadine. She would offer me the apple from her lunch bag. That was as far as things went. Or at least that I can remember. The first girl I had a crush on--which lasted for about a day--was also a red-head. But I can't remember her name. I saw her in a bus hut. A strange, wondrous feeling came over me, as if I were glowing. It was very disturbing. I don't think I ever saw her again. She was some guy's sister. I think I was age 8 at the time. The bus hut is long gone, but the memory lingers on. If these ladies are still alive, they're in their sixties, an age when most women look like your grandmother. I saw my grandmother once, when she came with her groom to get married. They stayed with us for about two weeks. Grandma Mae was rather square-looking, conservative, and mannered. She didn't seem to understand what it meant to be young, or ever to have been young herself. Maybe she'd had her childhood bred out of her.
In any case, here are the ingredients for a very satisfying cocktail, with measurements by proportion, as usual:
4 Parts Bourbon
1 Part Biscotti Liqueur
1/2 Part Ginger Liqueur
1/2 Part Blackberry Brandy
1 Part fresh lemon squeeze
Shaken and served up, with a lemon peel dropped in.
Red-heads tend to have quite pale skin, and are prone, of course, to freckling. And, in my limited experience, they often tend to be buxom, though of course, one can't generalize. They also tend to have green eyes, or brown eyes which have a reddish tint. Coloring is weird. I was born blond, which eventually turned to brown. In my fifties, my mustache went white. I put lightening bleach in my hair now, which makes me look blond again. I prefer it to the dull brown-going-to-grey which it is. If I live long enough, I suspect my hair will be all white. I once knew a Japanese woman who thought that Japanese men became distinguished (and sexy) when they got old and their hair turned white. I though that was probably a true statement.