CocaVeza

Half Coca Cola, half beer. (the "Veza," of course, comes from the Spanish word for beer, "cerveza.")

It sounds ridiculous. But it works, especially as a heat-busting thirst-quencher.

The first time I traveled to Buenos Aires, in April 2001, I was on my way to meet the family of my fiancee, Gabriela. Her brother, Danny, is a mechanic who pounds a 12-pack of Quilmes after just about every shift at service station he owns and operates with their father, Adelberto.

Quilmes is a smooth-drinking beer, golden and slightly sweet, that goes down fast and easy. I asked my light-drinking Gabi if she'd want to share one with me, and this is when I learned that she can't stand beer unless it's blended with cola.

"Repulsive," I said, "but go for it if you want to."

She poured half a bottle of Quilmes into a highball glass, then grabbed the 2-liter bottle of Coca Cola and started to fill the glass. The color of the liquid turned quickly from golden to tan to milk chocolate, and the whole admixture started to froth and fizz. I was transfixed, not unlike the first time in high school biology class when we got to pour some powder into a beaker of chemicals and watch it erupt. Who knew?!

The drink sloshed volcanically in the narrow vessel, issuing forth, then subsiding. Gabi lowered her mouth to the lip of the glass and inhaled the foamy first sip. She sat up and there was a clown-nose ball of foam on the tip of her schnozz. She smiled, and a kooktail was born.

Try it, if you're a sweet tooth. Personally, I think it's generally a waste of good beer, but then again, if you're stuck with a case of Blatz, you could do worse than to gussy it up with a splash of Coke.

It's time to get Kooky

Welcome to Kook Tales, where we traverse the wonderful wide world of strange drinks. Watery? Sometimes. Wicked? Let's hope so. Watered down? Never.

Thank you to my loving sister, Rachel, for the inspiration. When she first started in the liquor bidness, Rach was a waitress serving standard-issue, bottom-line-friendly, 1-ounce pours to tongue-wagging patrons of Mile High Saloon. When she retired from the cocktail-serving business a decade later, she was the queen of whopping, knock-you-on-your-ass, drinks whose liquor content was three times the legal limit! She called them "kooktails"; we gave her our keys and called a cab.

The owner's lost profits were our gain. Score one for the paying customers! Rachel misspent much of her 20s at Mile High, while my brother and I misspent whole bunches of our hard-earned twenties there on tips and table dances. hey, at least we kept most of the money in the family. We drank heavily, for free, while Seester, her sassy coworker Shannon, and her dirty-dancing colleagues pocketed our prodigious tips.

So here's to you, Seester! It's beer-thirty. Down the hatch! Bro and I are glad you always kept your shirt on.