Chocolate Dream

I dream about exploring strange alien worlds and battling the ferocious inhabitants, of fighting off commies on a failed attempt to invade the United States of America, of straight-arming Tom Cruise into a cervical collar while rushing for the winning touch down in the Super Bowl, of flying over Los Angeles without the aid of any conveyance while occasionally swooping down to buy a burrito from a taco truck speeding down the 405 freeway (like that ever happens).

My wife dreams about chocolate. Not a dream of being in the Land of Chocolate, like Homer Simpson on at least three episodes of the cartoon; just dreams of sitting in some nondescript place and eating one of those giant Hershey bars.

Obviously, she is the stable element of our lasting relationship. This is why I never touch the check book or make purchases with anything other than cash.

She isn’t much of a drinker, so to entice her to imbibe on hard liquor I have to appeal to her sweet tooth; and nothing does that better than chocolate. Because she likes to sip and prefers to drink cold water with the slight lingering taste of chocolate over grimacing through a strong but warm cocktail, I always serve this in a tumbler glass.

Here’s what you do:

• Fill a rocks glass with ice cubes and add
• 1 oz. dark crème de cacao
• 1/2 oz. Amaretto
• 1 1/2 oz. vodka
• Float heavy cream on top
• Garnish with chocolate (which sounds easier to do than it is)