I remember the first drink which Rafael prepared for us. It was a simple, straight Cachaça. He lays out a glass for everyone in the room and waves a bottle over each glass. The delicate droplets dangle mid-air for a moment before they simultaneously falling into their respective destination glasses. The crystal clear liquid is at once sweet and chilli.
The second drink was a Caipirinha. After giving some limes a serious pounding with a heavy stick -- a process he referred to as muddling -- he carefully measures out a generous helping of Cachaça. Then another. Then another. The culmination of all these measures adds a significant kick to the drink.
For the third drink, Rafael draws on his experience as a baker, constructing an elaborate, miniature gingerbread house inside a cocktail shaker. From above, an intense waterfall leaps forth from the Cachaça bottle, crushing the gingerbread house and destroying the lives of its gingerbread residents. Delivering the drink into our hands, he describes how this will taste of the blood of our defeated gingerbread enemies. He's right.
The fourth drink is an improvised punch, with little regard for standard measures. He prepares a fresh batch of lemon juice and in perfect synchronization with a flash of lightning in the background, he opens a new bottle of Cachaça. His hair blows back in the wind and he laughs maniacally as he pours a large ocean worth of drink into the bowl.
He reaches for his specially manufactured bar spoon and stirs the mixture furiously, spurring the creation of a typhoon, which dominates the inside of the bar. Within moments, the coast guard have arrived and attempt to rescue the unsuspecting Yelpers. They save three, but one is lost forever.
I do not remember the fifth drink Rafael made. read more
