"On a small boat there are three sheets that control the sails. The Main Sheet controls the mainsail, and two sheets that control the headsail the Windward Sheet and the Leeward Sheet. So a person that has three sheets to the wind means that the sheets are flying with the wind i.e. you do not have control of the boat." Nautical Expressions in the Vernacular
-or is it-
"On land, windmills have four sails. The sails are covered with sheets of fabric. The windmill turns at full speed with four 'sheets' (sails) exposed to the wind but will work more efficiently in brisk winds with only two 'sheets'. If you put up three sheets to the wind the windmill will be unstable, wobbling on its axis like a drunken sailor." Sailing Terms Explained For 'Lubbers
It's Friday. I've fixed myself a cocktail, which is something I only do on Fridays or Saturdays, and then only when I'm in a good mood, which I usually am on Fridays, just because. At other times I might have a beer or a glass of wine, but never a cocktail. Mixing a cocktail is a Fun Project, a celebration of something or other, even if it's only the end of the workweek. Making a margarita from a mix just doesn't do it; I have to squeeze fresh limes and measure lots of stuff and make a mess for it to count.
My cocktail of choice these days is the Suffering Bastard, which can be found listed among the "Polynesian" cocktails in the menus of some restaurants, but isn't really Polynesian at all. [Aside: most of them aren't. Most of them were created by one of two men: a Texan named Ernest Raymond Beaumont-Gantt, rumored to have been a bootlegger, who moved to Los Angeles, changed his name to Donn Beach but called himself Don the Beachcomber, and, in 1934, opened a 25-seat bar on the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and McCadden Place, followed in 1937 by a restaurant; or Victor Bergeron, who was so taken with Don the Beachcomber's restaurant that in 1938 he changed the name of his own rib shack in Oakland to Vic's Trading Post, in which he recreated Don the Beachcomber's exotic decor.] According to Beachbum Berry's Grog Log, by Jeff Berry and Annene Kaye, to whom I owe thanks for my knowledge of this erudite topic, the Suffering Bastard was first served at neither of those establishments, but rather at Shepherd's Hotel in Cairo, Egypt, circa 1950. It was christened Suffering Bastard when "some British officers misheard the bartender's comment about his 'poor, suffering bar steward'."
The first time I ordered a Suffering Bastard in a restaurant I was served a sweet cocktail in a tall Tiki mug. I have no idea what was in it. It certainly wasn't the drink described in Beachbum Berry's Grog Log, for which the recipe is:
-- 1 ounce of bourbon
-- 1 ounce of gin
-- 1 ounce of fresh lime juice
-- 4 ounces of ginger ale
-- dash of bitters
This is not quite how the drink was made at Shepherd's Hotel. There, brandy was used instead of bourbon and ginger beer instead of ginger ale. Made to the above recipe, the drink is too sour for me, so I add simple sugar syrup. The first time I served one to my friend Liz Danforth she christened it a "Sweet Suffering Bastard". Although originally served in a large cocktail glass, I drink mine out of a tall Tiki mug, just because.
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