There is a silent battle taking place in bars across Portland; a $6.50 battle on my paycheck and my cold, bargoing body. I realize you have ginger-laced, cinnamon-garnished masterpieces that if I were richer or drunker I might take advantage of. As 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, pure, and should be priced as any other happy hour well as it is your cheapest booze, hot water, a dash of honey and lemons. All bars are lousy with said these 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 bare hands if it means sucking these babies down midafternoon at my favorite bar and not spending my rent money. DONT MAKE ME BEG
The War on Hot Toddies
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