That's Real Nice, Doncha Think?

A wave of bitterly cold wind whipped along the East coast this morning, and I was surprised to find it somehow reverted me from cynical New Yorker to perky Minnesotan.

As if channeling another spirit, I heard my voice merrily greeting all the shivering souls along my path as I slung back my furry hood, unzipped my down parka and trotted down the street with a bare head and a happy heart. I was like Marge Gunderson on uppers.

Thankfully, warmly ensconced in my cubicle, Seasonal Affective Disorder resumed, hex faded, gloom descended and all is right with the world.

Nevertheless, the whole episode got me thinking about Minnesota winters and the warming power of hot drinks — in particular, those of the alcoholic variety. My default setting always falls to a simple cup of hot chocolate spiked with Irish cream whiskey, but there's a universe of other lovely options, from the Tom & Jerry (eggnog without brown liquor is just a sad, lonely cup of egg & cream) to sweetly spiced mulled wine.

You always suspected there was something disreputable behind all that "Minnesota Nice," didn't you?