The Smartest Thing I've Ever Done

They call it Instant Pussycat, but for me it took 40 years.

What am I talking about? Well, let me start from the beginning.

One day while shooting a movie in my friend Mike's grandma's basement....wait, that's not really the beginning.

The true beginning was the 1960s. This was a time of turmoil. A time of change. A time of protest. Also, for those who weren't so socially and/or politically active, it was a time of swingin' parties and, apparently, powdered instant cocktail mixes.

Now, I'm not saying Mike's grandparents weren't concerned with what was going on in the world, I'm just saying they knew a good drink when they saw one. Grandma Max's basement bar is a testament to their cocktail prowess. The bar appears to have remained untouched since 1975. It's fully stocked with 40 year old liquor bottles, logo glasses, swizzle sticks and various unidentifiable cocktail accessories from the 60s. It's a true museum to the cocktail world and it sat, untampered with, for decades before the movie crew piled into Grandma's Basement.

According to the date on the box (copyright, not expiration which couldn't be found), it was 1969 when Early Times produced the Instant Pussycat cocktail mix and proudly printed the slogan "I thought I saw a pussy cat. You did. You did" on the box.

On the set of the movie, we joked about cracking into the packets and mixing up a few cocktails. The recipe was simple enough - 1 part Early Times, 3 parts water, 1 packet of Instant Pussycat drink mix - shake, pour and garnish with a lime wedge and cherry. Luckily, we decided against creating 40 year old cocktails that night.

Unluckily, we changed our minds a few months later.

But a few months later, we had to change our minds. Mike showed up at my door with 3 gorgeous Instant Pussycat cocktail glasses. They were perfect. The shape of a lava lamp, but with just enough stem to slide your fingers around it as if holding a baby bird in your hand. If held properly, not only did you look cool, but the Pussycat logo with it's little wagging tail could be read by all.

With the combination of Instant Pussycat mix and Pussycat glasses pressuring us, how could we resist this drinking challenge?

But if we were gonna do it, we were gonna do it right. This meant a walk to the Tallac Bottle Shop for maraschino cherries...and maybe a couple pocket shots for good measure. Pocket Shots are little plastic bags filled with liquor that they sell, like chips, at the liquor store register. Surprisingly legal (for now), they are probably worthy of their own blog post, but for the time being, enjoy this picture of pocket shots in a canoe.

After giving the glasses a rigorous washing, it was time to bring the Instant Pussycat back to life.

Upon opening the first packet, I was pleased to learn that not only was the powder not clumpy, it was white as snow. However, upon meeting the whiskey and water, it turned a bright orange.

The glasses were filled. A toast was made. Photos were taken to show the doctors later.

Before I continue, let me tell you about a few of the more interesting ingredients in Instant Pussycat drink mix. First, "dried egg whites." How bad can 40 year old eggs be for you? Probably pretty bad, but luckily for us there was a second ingredient that I'm positive made the eggs safe. This was BHT. According to wikipedia, BHT was a popular preservative in the 50s and 60s. Since then, it has been removed from most foods. It's even banned in Japan and a few other countries. Here, in the US, it's just banned from baby food, but no one really uses it anymore because people are afraid it will give them cancer.

Now back to the story.

The glasses were filled. A toast was made. The photos were taken. Then, in one of the most monumental highlights in history of cocktails, the glasses were raised to our eager lips.

To experience a resurrection like this - to bring a cocktail back from the dead - is to experience how Howard Carter felt upon discovery King Tut's tomb or the way Robert Ballard felt when he located the Titanic...and, really, the Instant Pussycat revival is just as culturally significant. Perhaps we've created a new field of science: Archeological Cocktailing.

And as a pioneering Archeological Cocktailer, I felt the tingle of discovery. I was Thomas Edison about to flip the switch on my first lightbulb. I was Neil Armstrong opening the lunar module door. I was a young Orville Redenbacher applying corn to heat for the first time.

As the liquid touched my lips, I was pleasantly surprised...not just because I didn't drop dead instantly, but because the drink had a pleasing citrus taste. We had won. The naysayers, nay-said that it couldn't be done. But BHT had preserved the deliciousness of the Instant Pussycat, dried egg whites and all. It was a true victory for Archeological Cocktailers everywhere.

That was, until the aftertaste.Before I continue, I want you to find a pile of old records. This may require a trip to your parents or grandparents house, but it will be worth it. Now find the record with the dustiest cover - it's probably something by Pablo Cruise or Three Dog Night. If you're lucky it will have gotten wet a little at some point and now has the corresponding mildew. The important thing is that it's just been sitting there, its cardboard absorbing all the smells and flavors of 40 years of neglect. Now find a dozen more just like it and start licking.

I couldn't believe that a drink that started off bringing me such joy, ended by bringing me such pain and suffering. It was the equivalent of drinking a cup full of liquid dust.

When the aftertaste hit, I looked towards Mike. He looked back. Alarmingly, we had both retained our eyesight. Of course, neither one of us will ever have children, but it was worth it. And, really, odds were pretty low to start with. Also, my tongue is itchy now.

Still, we had history to make, so we were dedicated to finishing one full glass apiece. It didn't take to long to realize that the aftertaste was just as bad if you took a little sip as it was if you took a fat gulp, so we both quickly downed the drink. Then I chased it with the Pocket Shot...which usually needs a pretty quick chaser itself, but in this case, it went down like smooth Sunny D.

The suffering lasted only moments, but the taste will never fully leave me. Neither will the pride. The pride of having put my life on the line for science, for America and, of course, for no good reason at all. And for all the terrible taste, there was no questioning how cool the cocktail looked...especially with that Tallac Bottle Shop cherry floating around in there.

So, now that Mike and I have broken the seal, will the Instant Pussycat make a comeback? Will "Pussycat parties" - as the box suggests we should hold- once again be all the rage? Probably not...unless for some reason humans start to develop a craving for dust flavored beverages. And, really, as far as dust flavored beverages go, the Instant Pussycat is right at the top of the list. And, hey, it's no worse than Mr. Pibb.

And that's the story of the smartest thing I've ever done.

Viva la Pussycat!