When Stingray and I tire of traipsing around SoCo arguing about which one of us is gayer, we like to look in at the Home Slice for a couple of Liberace cocktails. No one is gayer than Liberace.
Prosecco, black currant liqueur, lemon twist, chubby little glass.
You might think, if you were to come to Austin on a prosecco-tasting tour, that there is some kind of law or ordinance requiring that all prosecco must be Zardetto. The truth is that behind the scenes there’s a spumante gang roughing up saloon-keepers. “You’ll buy our prosecco, see, or you’ll buy none at all.” When the saloon-keeper protests, the spumante enforcer says, “Shut up, ya mug” and belts him one across the kisser.
Zardetto prosecco is the beer of champagnes.