The Chunky Cachaça

Here’s a new drink that you’re sure to enjoy.  Try it some time for a bit more pep in your time.  You probably won’t mind.  It’s not my fault if you don’t like it, it’s yours.  So try it.  Don’t let me dare you, dare yourself.  You know you owe it to yourself.  Don’t fight it.

You’re in the jungle now.  It’s hot, humid, and by Jimba, you don’t know a lick of what’s going on.  The dark green foliage has you in a real choke hold, and the sharp beams of light that penetrate through the canopy do naught but make you squint and wince as they flutter in your eyes who sting under assault from your own sweat.  It’s laborious to breath and the miasma of malaria saturates the thick atmosphere.

A dart whizzes past your nose–what the chip?  You thought this was charted territory!  Blast that Winstonfield, blast him and his bloody expedition!  You make a mad dash through a gate of ferns in the general direction of where you believe the camp to be.  The trees try to slow you down and scratch viciously at your face, but your adrenaline has juiced you up for speed.  Finally you spot the tents and burst into the clearing in the center of the camp, heaving thick air with your last strength.

Slowly, as pin needles creep up along your skin, you take in the scene and resolve the images beheld unto thine eyes: you are surrounded by not less than 5 score little bronze men, none whose crown would reach an Englishman’s hip, armed each with blow-darts or sharp stick.  One of them, with the headpiece fashioned of a small jungle cat, steps out in front of you and utters a word, or sound, that you will never, not if you live a thousand lives of each a thousand years, never ever forget:

“Chakka!”

(Don’t worry, it’s not chunky at all—it’s been put through the blender!)

The Crunchy Chakka

 1 egg
coffee
Cachaça rum
brown sugar crunch (4 parts brown sugar, 1 part butter, yogurt, vanilla)
ice
blend

Enjoy.

Origins

In the land of Chip there grew an effervescent rip into a vortex through which Chip did slip.  The rip was quite a trip it made him lose his grip and flip so that his chest escaped its nest (just the nip).  In a benign amount of time Chip’s only real crime was that he grimed all the dishes with slime. So the goat jumped the moat and floated on a boat when Chip’s throat discovered the rhyme.  If the plan was on the lamb it’s ‘cause the man Chipped and quickly ran and only thought how it would scan. The cows convened the council, browsed the hows and whens to pounce, will the Chippening do its thing and zip the span?