California dreamin' #4: The nojito

Editor's note: Ah, how did you miss California dreamin' entries #1, #2, and #3, you ask? Well, let's just say, while I like to tell a story in sequence, I don't necessarily write in sequence. The others will join us soon.

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Something new to be bitter about (as if I, Miss Ann Thrope, needed any inspiration): The bad mojito. Or, as Curtis, a new acquaintance of mine (from that other Carolina) refers to them, the "nojito."

Wish I'd thought of that.

What exactly is a nojito you ask? Clearly, you've never had one, or you wouldn't need to ask for explanation. A nojito is a very badly made mojito, and as it is summer in North America, they are legion this time of year. I will admit to being shaky on the contents of even a good mojito--that sublime, summery intoxication of rum, sugar, lime, and mint--but like art and Hair Club for Men devotees, I know it when I see it. Or in this case, taste it. Or better still, in this case, reject the taste of it.

Nonetheless, I'm not a bartender, so I don't have to know how to make the perfect mojito. That, in theory, is what I'm paying, you, said Bartender, for knowing and doing.

As we know from recent commentary, I feel slighted by capitalism's inattentiveness to my needs these days. I also feel indifferent to the appeal of most religious beliefs (see California dreamin' #3, a post yet to be composed as of this writing), however organized or disorganized. Nevertheless, here is one occasion where I would enjoy seeing the brutality of the gods medievally smite Das Kapital's collective ass for serving up an inferior product.

So what makes a nojito in my overwrought opinion? Here are some tips for the wannabe-tipsies and amateur mixologists among us:

• Just because you stick something that looks like mashed up mint in a glass doesn't not mean it's a mojito. For all I know, you could have flipped the page to the Italian section of your cookbook and have now just created the word's first Birdseye Frozen Spinach "Rum Florentine" Highball.
  
• Just because you pour a lot of rum, tequila, grain alcohol, or Listerine in a glass does not a mojito make. Save some of the alcohol to disinfect any wounds I inflict upon you for serving up such a waste of my time.
  
• I want to taste lime, real lime, not RealLime juice, lime green jello, or lima beans.
• Feel free to add some other flavors to a mojito--I'm not opposed to getting absolutely slap-happy, girl-drink drunk this time of year, especially when I'm at a conference and nowhere near a steering wheel. I do like the conceptualization of a pineapple mojito, a pomegranate mojito, et al. However, too often the execution is, well, a-booze-mal. (Ha! I'm opening in Vegas next week!) Either it's all pineapple or no pomegranate--the bipolar approach to mojito production. Please try to follow the ANSI standard.

My current shortlist of nojito offenders here in the five blocks of F--king Anaheim that I have traversed is as follows:

• The Crappy the Discontented Dwarf's Mojito served up at a Tortilla Joe's in Downtown Disney. I know, I know, you screw with the Mouse, the Mouse screws you. You buy a drink at a fake Mexican cantina housed in a fake Wonderbread-based town, and you are bound to get a fake mojito. Served with a smile by the very friendly wait staff--and all for only $8.50 a pop, not including tip.
• The Pomegranate Patrón Mojito served up at Roy's Hawaiian Fusion Cuisine, an otherwise excellent restaurant with an exceptional drinks list (ginger daquiris!!!). This left me more blotto than I've been in ages, so much so that I could swear there was the web address for the local AA chapter written in the bottom of the glass. I did not have a good time getting to the bottom of things, though; this wasn't a fun, "I feel tipsy and want to run through a fountain with my clothes on" kind of drunkenness, but, instead, more of a flophouse in the Tenderloin, "please let me curl up and die" kind of alcoholic poisoning experience. Cost: $11.00.
  

I'm sure there are others out there--I've certainly had a few, but, really not that many--and I'm looking forward to hearing your horror stories, as there is nothing quite like sharing a little misery with the ones you love.

In the meantime, please consider this a public service--your chance to fight the power, to stand up and be counted, to stick it to the man: This summer, just say no to the nojito!