On obeying one's thirst

I wanted to drink something specific this evening. So I tinkered around, added this and that, finally got it perfect, and only then realised that I'd just invented the daiquiri. I'm not quite sure if this makes me a genius comparable to Constantino Ribalaigua, or whether I'm just a hundred and fifty years too late.

Part of the problem was that, after a double bacon cheeseburger, cajun fries, and short-stack maple pancakes I was extremely thirsty but very, very full. Basically I wanted a long cold lemonade, but short. So I set about inventing the concentrated essence of lemonade.

The concentrated essence of lemonade

• Juice of one large lemon and one lime.
• Two shots sugar syrup.
• Dash Angostura bitters.
• It wasn't working at all until I added half a shot of tequila.

Shake very well over ice and strain into a chilled Nutella glass.

Perfect.

My shot measures are Imperial, so each shot here is one and a half ounces. They were a christening present from my godfather (who displayed remarkable prescience in determining, when I was three months old, exactly what present I'd value most when I turned out the way I did). They come from a silversmiths in York that has a five-digit phone number on the box, which tells you how old I am.

And now I am no longer thirsty. Job done.

Although now I'm considering combining the drink with a layer of pineapple-coconut hydrocolloid foam... it may be that my problems are deeper than those of mere hydration.