I’m maybe 50% of my way through a tequila zombie as I begin this post, and I must confess to feeling a little woozy. These past months of drinking along with Tyrone and Maxine and Jeremiah and Katje and Benny should have warmed up my liver a bit, but this one does ratchet the alcohol up a good few notches. Which is the main point with zombies. The original one was supposedly concocted to help a businessman through a hangover—not so much hair of the dog as just swallowing the mutt whole. Doc and his (maritime) lawyer Sauncho order them in Inherent Vice, along with some disturbing sounding food (p. 91-92):
“I’m Chlorinda, what’ll it be,” A waitress in a combination Nehru jacket and Hawaiian-print shirt, just long enough to qualify as a minidress, and with a set of vibes that didn’t help sharpen anyone’s appetite.
“Ordinarily I’d go for the Admiral Luau,” Sauncho more diffident than Doc expected, “but today I guess I’ll just have the house anchovy loaf to start and, um, the devil-ray filet, can I get that deep-fried in beer batter?”
“Your stomach isn’t it. How about you l’il buddy?”
“Mmm!” Doc scanning the menu. “All this good eatin’!” while Sauncho kicked him under the table.
“If my husband dared to eat any of this shit, I’d throw him out on his ass and drop all his Iron Butterfly records out the window after him.”
“Trick question,” said Doc hastily. “The, uh, jellyfish teriyaki croquetters I guess? and the Eel Trovatore?”
“And to drink, gentlemen. You’ll want to be good and fucked up by the time this arrives. I’d recommend Tequila Zombies, they work pretty quick.” She walked away scowling.
Forgive any weird spelling errors—they do work pretty quick. Oh and is anyone game to take on Tom Pynchon’s Kitchen? I’m reviving the Quimporto, someone else’s gotta handle the Eel Travatore.
We should also note that Doc and Sauncho are drinking their zombies at lunchtime. Day drinking is delightful, but I’m feeling weird enough trying to get through this thing at 2AM, let along having it pre-5pm. It oughta be reserved for late nights in loud clubs in tropical party towns. But then again, Doc doesn’t have much binding him to a regular employment/daylight based timetable. Dude can drink what he wants.
The tequila zombie is not a common drink. A typical zombie is three or four different types of rum, apricot brandy, vodka, and juice of some tropical kind (although recipes seem to vary widely). If you google tequila zombie, you mostly get a game in which you blast shotguns at sombreroed zombies. But you can also find QuirkBooks getting in ahead of me in the Pynchonian alcohol game, providing not just a tequila zombie recipe but one based on their love of Inherent Vice. I basically followed their recipe here, except I swapped out orange juice for pineapple. That gave me:
- 3 oz tequila
- 1.5 oz apricot brandy
- 1.5 oz spiced rum
- 1.5 oz vodka
- 3 oz grapefruit juice
- 3 oz pineapple juice
And it makes a hefty drink. I gave Drunk Pychonette one, and despite my warnings her first sip still brought a sharp “Holy shit!” Maybe some kind of expert mixology could mask the alcohol better. I’m not sure how. It’s good though! Just tastes like very serious party.
Doc and Sauncho’s scene with the zombies makes it into the movie, which I finally at last after interminable waiting saw and enjoyed last night. It felt nicely Pynchoney, good and weird and funny with the right mix of sadness and optimism at the base. (I copied my zombie garnish from the movie zombie, so thank you to whatever set dresser was responsible for that.) I look forward to seeing it again and I hope I’m not hungover tomorrow.