The Ember Cocktail

Huddled in a dark Boston speakeasy in the lonely 2 a.m. hour, I need a drink. Not just any drink, no. Something memorable, something that I can take away with me. The mixologist in front of me has been less than helpful, and I know I'm on my own. I think of where I am, and where I want to be, and through the blur of warm apple tarts, polo shirts, and sandy moonlit beaches on the south of Cuba with warm winds all around, I think of an Ember.