Now I am a pretty good cook– but like most of us I read recipes to get inspired. Good recipes are like good books, they're hard to put down. I particularly like recipes so magical that they transport me to exciting locations, rich with possibility. These are the recipes that excite me. These are the recipes I turn to on special occasions. But I'll tell you something. IRL, I don't always use recipes.

There are all sorts of reasons why I don't use recipes everyday. Sometimes I make a dish so many times that a recipe is just redundant. Other times I feel like getting my creative game on so I follow my instincts, just to see how good they are.

None of that means I think recipes are irrelevant IRL (in real life). If I thought that there would be very little room for this blog, any of the other blogs I read or even the 8 shelves of cookbooks that tower over each end of the desk where I peck away at this keyboard.

There are exceptions however. Too many to go into. Baking is often an exception. I usually follow pastry recipes or make only small (logical??) adaptations to them. I can't make good ice cream to save my life, unless I follow a recipe word for word and then make it twice. I blame that strict bugaboo known as science. It's always lurking– just hoping I lose the logarithm or invert the integers.

But cocktails can be an exception too. I often turn to my bartenders guide IRL even when making something as simple and familiar as a Manhattan. And I'm not sure why.

Cocktail guru David Wondrich calls the Zombie 'the mother of all freak drinks'. Which makes me wonder if I even want to attempt this cocktail. But if freaky can mean sexy and bad can mean good and phat can mean pretty hot and tempting. Then the phrase 'the mother of all freak drinks' can mean just about anything. So start mixing 'cuz here I go...

You probably associate the Zombie with the tiki bars of 1950s. But it actually made its appearance well before that. In fact it is said to be the invention of Earnest Raymond Beaumont Gantt and Cora Irene Sund, better known on these pages as Don the Beachcomber and Sunny Sund, owners of the iconic old Hollywood restaurant Don the Beachcomber. I told their whole story already when I introduced you to Rumaki. CLICK here for all the details.

David Wondrich credits the inspiration for this cocktail 'as liquid CPR for some poor SOB experiencing death by hangover'. But I have also read that Don first whipped one up for a friend who was traveling cross-country by airplane and needed some liquid courage. In any case, the Zombie has stumbled arms first into the consciousness of the American cocktail culture. A true party drink. By the time tiki culture went rogue, the Zombie, with all its nefarious 'no-more-than-two-to-a-customer charms' became the ultimate symbol of alcoholic bravado.

It's been a while since I have done a cocktail. I am here to remedy that.

Today's remedy comes in the form of a Tequila Sunrise. It's a classic cocktail, second only to the margarita in popularity when it comes to enjoying tequila. It is thought to have been introduced in Alcapulco in the 1950s as a "welcome to paradise"  cocktail for guests checking-in to the swanky resorts of that era.

However, I have also heard it told that the drink was "invented" when a bartender walked in on his boss quaffing tequila behind the bar in the wee-small-hours of the morning. The supposed retort from the shame-faced imbiber was that he was trying to create a cocktail that reminded him of the sunrise and needed to be "in the moment" to get proper inspiration.

Whatever its origins, to me this is a lazy day sort of cocktail. It should be taken in slowly, out of a tall glass. It's one of the few cocktails I say absolutely needs to be sipped through a straw. It helps blend the orange juice, tequila and grenadine.