There is a silent battle, taking place in bars across Portland. A $6.50 battle on my paycheck and my cold, bar-going body. I realize you have ginger-laced, cinnamon-garnished masterpieces that if I were richer or drunker I might take advantage of. When you wince and point to something vaguely named after a Twin Peaks reference, we both know this is not what I'm after. The happy hour toddy is perfect, and pure, and should be priced as any other happy hour well drink, as it is your cheapest booze, hot water, a dash of honey, and lemons. All bars are lousy with these said ingredients, and I don't need cloves or nutmeg or any of that bullshit. It is cold outside and we are all sick, all of the time. You don't even have to stir the honey. I will do that with my own bare hands if it means sucking these babies down mid-afternoon at my favorite bar without having to spend my rent money. DON'T MAKE ME BEG.—Anonymous
The Toddy Racket
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