Most of us have private rules that may or may not have anything to do with the way things work in the world. You might, for instance, be absolutely convinced that there is no such thing as a short-sleeve dress shirt, or that women ought to cover their heads in church. However hard you squeeze your eyes shut and wish it true -- however much you think your ideas are correct -- your beliefs are unlikely to have any effect on the behavior of others.
   So you can either go around disappointed in the world, or shrug your shoulders and accept that you're only one person and all you can do is live your life according to your principles. Sometimes the only way to be happy is to cut the world some slack.
   We know we have our rules. We don't like wearing short pants in public or eating in a car (or on the street, unless we're seated at a table). The only people who should wear numbered football jerseys are football players and cute women. You don't put head covers on your irons. If you don't shift your own gears, you're not really driving, you're just steering.
   And you don't drink cocktails that glow in the dark or come equipped with chunks of fruit. Actually, there are very few cocktails we don't regard with some suspicion -- the better the bourbon, the less fooling around with we'll stand. We will mix and drink a Manhattan, but we'll make it with Old Overholt or Evan Williams rather than Knob Creek. An on-the-rocks Margarita is OK, but frozen ones are strictly for sorority sisters. There are some tricks we do with rum (we have invented something with the popularly priced Cruzan Black Strap Rum and Grand Marnier) and our vodka martinis contain trace amounts of Scotch and dry vermouth, but a skilled mixologist we are not. (In the 19th century, the best barmen at the Waldorf Astoria could mix almost 500 different varieties of drinks without consulting a manual.) We've got a few recipe books and a lot of ingredients and if you ask us for a Rob Roy or Rusty Nail we'll be happy to accommodate you, but no one would ever mistake us for Tom Cruise in Cocktail.
   Some of this attitude is pure snobbery. There are a lot of upstanding, decent people who drink wine coolers and pina coladas; we just don't happen to know any at the moment. (And we realize that we're vulnerable to attacks from the reactionary right of the imbibing spectrum -- our friend Coach sniffs at the thought of a Manhattan. He only drinks whiskey diluted by a drop or two of branch water and he declines ice cubes on the grounds they may have been made with commie-lib fluoridated water.)
   Still, when you're charged with writing about alcoholic beverages every month, you have to venture out of your comfort zone. And sometimes you make a mistake -- like getting distracted by your brotherin-law who's making clucking sounds at the waiter in a restaurant when you're picking up the tab -- and ordering a specialty of the house called the London Martini.
   If you like dry martinis -- vodka or gin, we're not getting into a religious debate now -- you should never order something called a London Martini.
   In the best case, if you happen to order a "martini" in London, you're likely to receive a glass of Martini & Rossi vermouth straight up. If you're in a Mediterranean bistro in a transitional neighborhood of west Cleveland, you'll get a sticky sweet citrusy drink made with flavored vodka and maraschino liqueur, served with a wedge of orange. No doubt some people like it. After all, it's one of the house specialties. And we had only ourselves to blame, for one of the private rules we have for ourselves is never ever order a drink that is a house specialty. A drink is not a fashion accessory -- no good can come of ordering a beverage that brings out the flecks of gold in one's eyes.
   But every rule has its exceptions. And on a recent trip to Little Rock's Nu Cuisine-Lounge -- which has already established itself as one of the state's genuine treasures, where we don't go nearly often enough -- we took a flier on something called the Electronic Blu Nutini ($8), which they advertise as their signature drink. Amazingly tasty, ribboned with complex and complementary flavor, it's as subtle and delicate as Nu's cuisine and represents a level of bar artistry we can only acknowledge with wonder.
   Without divulging the recipe, Paul Novicky, Nu's executive chef and owner, told us the major ingredients of the Nutini are orange liqueur, peach liqueur, coconut rum, white cranberry juice and pineapple juice. Might as well tell us that Chagall's stained-glass windows are made of sand and lead.
   Inspired by this happy experience with a colorful drink, we experimented with a phosphorescent green liqueur called Everglo, a 40 proof blend of vodka and tequila with some caffeine and ginseng tossed in to give it a Red Bull-type jolt. It originated in Amsterdam and is imported by Wingard and is being positioned as a kind of bad boy/girl party beverage.
   We found it plenty pleasant, especially when mixed -- about one to one, we hardly ever measure -- with bourbon and served over ice. (The Wingard people call this drink -- when supplemented by an additional measure of 7UP -- Kentucky Crack.)
   It just goes to show that rules have their limits, especially for the seekers among us. (So far as I know, the following is an original recipe, made up on the spot. It is open to refinement, suggestion and comment.)
   

Our Own Black Jack
Cruzan Black Strap Rum Grand Marnier Simple syrup Ice
   Add one part Cruzan Black Strap Rum to one-half part Grand Marnier. Add simple syrup (or Sweet'N Low) to taste. Serve over ice.
   And one last thing, if you are interested in learning more about the Ramos Gin Fizz we talked about last month, visit Jack Robertiello's On the House Web site onthehouse. typepad.com/on_the_house/ phil_greene/index.html. I'm preparing a piece on Internet drinkies resources for a future column, and this is one of the best. Spirits is a monthly imbibing guide. E-mail :
   

pmartin@arkansasonline.com

This story was published Friday, November 03, 2006