I was reading one of those free local magazines – you know the ones, very glossy, very classy, loaded with ads and little content, but ones which urge you to feel warm and fuzzy about your city or neighborhood. In it were various bits and pieces about local restaurants and their new and wonderful offerings. One being a recipe for a Kombucha.

An Italian chef on a “good morning” type show in England, when told that his superb genuine macaroni and cheese would be like a British carbonara if you just added ham, magically shot back an incredulous look and this gorgeous verbal comeback: “If my grandmother had wheels, she would have been a bike.”

So you may call it a Kombucha, but it’s still iced tea.

Likewise, dear reader, it seems these days that a bartender can put any old thing in a specific type of glass and call it a “martini.” Nay, nay, I say. A martini is made with gin and vermouth, and garnished with an olive or a lemon twist. It is not made with vodka and Galliano Ristretto (espresso martini); neither is it made with vodka, triple sec and lemon juice (lemon drop martini). Heaven knows it’s not made with vodka and chocolate, producing, not surprisingly, a Chocolatini. I’m sure the French will sue over the one named for them in a drink made with vodka, Chambord and pineapple juice.

No, no. The vodka martini I suppose has become marginally passable these days as it’s become quite common, and after all, James Bond drinks it, so it can’t all be bad. But your classic original martini is made with gin – the drier the martini, the less the vermouth, until it gets so dry the glass merely has to be wafted through a drinks cabinet which contains a sealed bottle thereof.

So it got me thinking about the naming of cocktails, and when did the mixologists become so unimaginative they just decided on something-something martini and were therefore done.

It matters not what’s in the drinks, but these names really tickled my fancy. How about a Hop, Skip & Go Naked? Named, I’m sure for the startling effects of the consumed alcohol, it sounds like quite a happy little drink. Then we have the answer to Sex on the Beach – Sand in the Crack. A Fearless Redneck sounds a little ominous and actually quite pointless – I’ve never figured out the logic of mixing alcohol, a natural depressant, with an energy drink. I would imagine your poor brain and body would be pulled every which way but Sunday trying to figure out what it was really supposed to do.

In my meanderings, I then fell upon The Top 10 Curious Cocktail Garnishes. We’ve all seen olives, lemon twists, celery and cucumber, but these pale when compared with such lovely additives as a “Pickled Toe.” I kid you not. Served in a Sourtoe Cocktail in the Yukon, it is indeed a reusable rather mumified donated toe, it having been disassociated with its owner in a lawnmower accident.

I think I’ll pass, thanks though. Let me stick with a paper umbrella. I’m good.

Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at anniedearkc@hotmail.com.