Since one of my last posts was on the foods I’d been exposed to in England, this will focus on the fun travel sport of drinking.
I write this after a Snowball, which is a mix of Avocaat and something. Avocaat is supposed to be something with eggs or cream or something like that, according to my family (we’re a very detail-oriented crew in case you didn’t notice). Whatever it is, I don’t see it back home in the States.
I first and last tried a snowball when I visited England at 17. My mom and aunts raved about them while I raved about how I could drink underage without anyone doing a double-take.
So when I saw the Avocaat in the fridge during this trip to England, I started thinking about snowballs, nothing to do with winter, however. My mom must have had the same thing in mind as all through our neighborhood walk, she talked about having a snowball when we got back. Her reward for finding her way home.
My uncle did some mysterious voodoo drink magic in the kitchen and my aunt came out with some tall glasses with colorful star swirling sticks in it. It was a shade between yellow and off-white with light fluffy peaks like you see on a cappuccino. It promised a rollicking good time.
I sipped the happiness and busted out my Kindle since I hadn’t yet read any of the English classics I’d loaded and planned to read on this trip. Did I have Dickens? Check. Shakespeare? Check. Sherlock Holmes? Check. Jane Austen? Check. Apparently, I had big plans for this trip. I found my spot in The Portrait of Dorian Gray and enjoyed Oscar Wilde’s wordplay as I tried to slowly savor the Snowball.
I know—pretty bad ass…
If you know where to find Avocaat in the Boston area, let me know immediately. Just think of all the classics I’d read!