The cocktail I drank all during the end of my marriage, christened by my indomitable best friend from grad school, who ended up here when we did (by an amazing coincidence) and then was shafted, tenure-wise, and had to move away. I still miss him terribly.
Anyway, he pointed out that we had no right to be drinking Cosmopolitans, given our environs. And he was right. Enter the Suburban.
You’ll need a shaker with ice, and fresh lime juice (no Rose’s), vodka (or gin, even–we liked Tanqueray), good old cranberry juice (not the healthy kind, the grocery store kind), and Cointreau. I suppose you could use Triple Sec in a pinch, but Cointreau tastes better.
The following are the proportions. I had to e-mail my ex-husband to ask for the recipe, because even though my consoling-windows friend and I drank these every night for ages, we could never get it right on our own. Plus, one or the other of us would start singing “Two to the one from the one to the three, I like good pussy and I like good tree…” drowning out my ex-husband as he tried to explain the proper ratio, which meant that by the time we triumphantly chorused “And I get more ass than a toilet seat!” he’d have rolled his eyes, turned back to the shaker, and silently mixed up another batch. Scientists are generally consistent when they mix and measure and decant and pour. Every time he made Suburbans, they were delicious.
I can’t drink these any more, for Proustian reasons and for the sake of sanity. But it’s a great recipe. I believe my ex-husband still drinks a shaker full almost every night. He’s a man of ritual.
1 Lime juice
Pour over ice, shake, pour into glasses, drink. Get divorced. The end.