Something cold and clammy
Not the world’s best photo, I know. I obtained this image at great risk of life and limb after angering a nearby indigenous personnel. He approached me at the gas station and asked what I was doing.
“I’m taking a picture of that Budweiser and Clamato sign over yonder,” I said.
“Why?” he grunted, scratching his head.
“Because,” I replied, not yet sensing danger. “That has got to be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen.”
At this point the fellow appeared to become angry and I had to leave before I could fiddle with the door and obtain a better shot. I guess sometimes photography can be dangerous!
If you’re like me, you see a sign like that and your first response is, “Whiskey tango foxtrot?”
Somehow, don’t ask me why, I already knew that “Clamato” was some sort of clam juice. Who was the first person, I wonder, who ever looked at the humble clam and said, “You know what? I’d just bet that thing will make a great juice!” Now that takes true vision.
How is it I live in a world where clam juice is freely available yet banana juice is not? These are the kinds of big thoughts that I like to ponder. (Answer: Because bananas are hard to juice.)
According to Wikipedia, Clamato is “a drink made primarily of reconstituted tomato juice concentrate. It is flavored with spices and clam broth.” The inventors apparently wanted to create a beverage that was reminiscent of Manhattan-style clam chowder.
When you combine it with Budweiser beer, though, apparently is becomes something known as Chelada. The Wikipedia has something to say about this as well:
The Michelada or cerveza preparada is a term loosely defining a Mexican alcoholic beverage made with beer, lime juice and assorted sauces, spices, peppers, tomato juices or Clamato. It is served in a chilled salt rimmed glass. There are numerous variations of the beverage throughout Mexico and Latin America. A common variation includes Clamato or Tomato juice.
All I can say is I must not have traveled this world very much. Somehow I missed out on Cheleda.
I’m proud to say that is no longer the case!
My wife confused my interest in the sign with desire and the other night a gigantor can of Cheleda appeared on the dining room table. “Fascinating,” I said.
“You don’t have to drink it,” she quipped.
“Oh no. I’m not about to miss out on this,” I daringly replied.
I have to say. I was more than a little underwhelmed.