Mojito Quotes

What's your specialty? Oh, you know. Madness. Mayhem. Debauchery. And even with all that going for me, I can still make a mean mojito.

Sometimes I think that Jesus watches my neurotic struggles, and shakes his head and grips his forehead and starts tossing back mojitos.

I admired him from afar, like a really amazing piece of art that you only see in photographs or behind glass in a museum. So we affectionately referred to him as Handsome McHotpants; more accurately, Elizabeth and I knighted him Sir Handsome McHotpants one night after drinking too many mojitos.

I’m a goddess right now; everyone should come and offer gifts of chocolate and mojitos. That’s my currency.

My mojito in the Bodeguita del Medio and my daiquiri in the Floridita.

I'm a fiend for mojitos.

Lou loved watching Al savor every bite. She mentally vowed to make him an amazing meal just to see him enjoy it. Maybe her Cuban pork with black beans and cilantro rice. That was a great summer feast- complete with mojitos and mojo sauce. If he savored a burger with such fervor, she he'd swoon over her cooking.

Guava-stuffed chicken with caramelized mango and a spicy mango mojito sauce. Alim had ruined mango for her, but every time Feyi remembered how shocked and open his face looked with desire, she wasn't sure she minded. There was a lemongrass-and-pineapple-glazed pork belly with Zanzibari spiced octopus, grilled jerk watermelon with couscous and a basil oil, and finally, a banana cream parfait with coconut shortbread alongside broiled pineapple with macadamia toffee, drizzled with rum caramel.

Honey, if he doesn’t get you and treat you like a queen, move on! Your king is out there! Life is way too short to be losing precious time over a loser. Love yourself and know you deserve a healthy and happy relationship.

Travel is torture. At least if we stick with the etymology of the word. Linguists tend to agree that the term comes from “travail” (“work” in French) or “travailen” (“torment” in Middle English). Not very tempting, is it? Well, wait for the worst part: these two words probably share an even more sinister meaning: according to author and journalist Simon Winchester, in fact, they very likely derive from the Latin term “tripalium”, an ancient torture instrument used in the Roman Empire. Today, when we think about travel, we picture fast trains, intercontinental flights in business class, sandy beaches, and Mojitos, but things were not always as smooth. Travelling was extremely difficult (and risky) in ancient times and organizing one’s travel was, indeed, a torture.

As a great poet once said ‘what is in a name’, you can call me anything or Mojito will do, that’s what my close ones’ call me.

passion-fruit-and-rosewater mojitos

I’m a goddess right now; everyone should come and offer gifts of chocolate and mojitos. That’s my currency. “Do

Mojito A dense, golden cupcake flavored with lime zest and dried mint leaves, and topped with a rum-flavored icing. ½ cup sugar 1½ cups flour ¼ teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons baking powder ¼ cup melted butter 1 beaten egg 1 cup milk 1 lime, juice and zest 2 teaspoons dried spearmint leaves Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Sift the dry ingredients together in a big bowl. Melt the butter and add the beaten egg to it. Add that to the dry ingredients, then stir in the milk until smooth. Zest half of a lime, and add it to the bowl. Squeeze in the juice of half the lime as well. Add the dried spearmint leaves to the batter, mixing well. Bake for 16-20 minutes or until it springs back to the touch. Makes 12. Rum-Flavored Buttercream Frosting Use previous buttercream recipe but substitute rum extract for vanilla. Garnish with candied spearmint leaf, fresh mint leaf, or lime wedge.

Taylor liked a little more bite from a kiss. Brandon had that. Like the bite of alcohol in a mojito—some citrus, some mint, and some wow. Absolutely lethal.

O melhor do mundo dão as crianças. Mas passar o dia sozinha, numa praia deserta, com um Mojito na mão, não fica muito atrás.

watermelon mojito This is best described as an upscale mojito that subs prosecco for rum, adds juicy fresh watermelon, and skips spoonfuls of sugar altogether. It’s definitely a summer porch drink. TIME: 2 MINUTES SERVES: 1 5 mint sprigs 2½ ounces watermelon juice ½ ounce Ginger Syrup ½ ounce fresh lime juice Prosecco Fill a highball glass to the top with ice. Clap the mint to release maximum flavor. Add the watermelon juice, ginger syrup, lime juice, and mint to the glass and top off with prosecco. Stir with a barspoon. Serve and enjoy.

What’s your favorite part of the trip?” “I don’t have one.” “C’mon, there must’ve been something.” “I took a weekend trip to Caño Cristales. I liked seeing the different colors of the river. It was like a liquid rainbow.” Many of the students had spent their time traveling around Colombia on the weekends. No one had a car, but we could hop on a plane for fairly cheap and fly into different areas such as Bogotá, the country’s official capital city, or Cali, the salsa-dancing capital of the world. Amanda had even convinced me to fly with her to the seductive, sizzling city of Cartagena. We climbed the fortified walls that had once protected the city from pirate attacks and watched the sunset. The entire city had a Miami-style skyline and, after the sun went down, infatuation seemed to bloom into fever and take hold of the city. At night we could hear the clink of rum bottles and mojito glasses in cafés on almost every street as moonlight picked out the silhouettes of softly swaying couples. We walked for hours along the coastal city streets. Candle flames beckoned from the dimness of nearby baroque churches.

I was in heaven, I drank a Mojito the local delicacy in alcohol and as it trickled down my throat the tangy lime tingled my senses.

They had the best coconut mojitos and Cuban food, something she was addicted to.

Water + Ice = Ice cube Dragon or Ice Cream Dragon Water + Metal = Mercury Dragon or Seashell Dragon Plant Dragon Hybrids Plant + Earth = Tropical Dragon Plant + Fire = Firebird Dragon or Spicy Dragons Plant + Water = Nenufar Dragon or Coral Dragon Plant + Ice = Dandelion Dragon or Mojito Dragon Plant + Metal = Jade Dragon or Dragonfly Dragon Plant + Dark = Carnivore Plant Dragon or Rattlesnake Dragon Electric Dragon Hybrids Electric + Earth = Star Dragon or Chameleon Dragon

If life gives you lemons, make mojitos!

From the Bridge” Celebrating “La Navidad Cubana” Before the fall of Batista, Cuba was considered to be a staunch Catholic Nation. As in other Christian countries, Christmas was considered a religious holiday. In 1962, a few years after the revolution, Cuba became an atheist country by government decree. Then In 1969, Fidel Castro thinking that Christmas was interfering with the production of sugar cane, totally removed the holiday from the official calendar. Of course Christmas was still celebrated by Cubans in exile, many of whom live in South Florida and Union City, NJ. However it was still was celebrated clandestinely in a subdued way on the island. It was said, if it is to believed, that part of the reason for this was due to the fact that Christmas trees do not grow in Cuba. Now that Christianity and Christmas have both been reestablished by the government, primarily due to the Pope’s visits to Cuba, Christmas as a holiday has been reinstated. Many Christmas traditions have been lost over the past five decades and are still not observed in Cuba, although the Cuban Christmas feast is highlighted by a festive “Pig Roast,” called the “Cena de Navidad” or Christmas dinner. Where possible, the dinner includes Roast Pork done on a spit, beans, plantains, rice and “mojo” which is a type of marinade with onions, garlic, and sour orange. Being a special event, some Cubans delight in serving the roasted pork, in fancier ways than others. Desserts like sweet potatos, “turrones” or nougats, “buñuelos” or fritters, as well as readily available tropical fruits and nuts hazelnuts, guava and coconuts, are very common at most Christmas dinners. Beverages such as the “Mojito” a drink made of rum, sugar cane juice, lime, carbonated water and mint, is the main alcoholic drink for the evening, although traditionally the Christmas dinner should be concluded by drinking wine. This grand Christmas dinner is considered a special annual occasion, for families and friends to join together. Following this glorious meal, many Cubans will attend Misa de Gallo or mass of the rooster, which is held in most Catholic churches at midnight. The real reason for Christmas in Cuba, as elsewhere, is to celebrate the birth of Christ. Churches and some Cuban families once again, display manger scenes. Traditionally, children receive presents from the Three Wise Men and not from Santa Claus or the parents. Epiphany or “Three King’s Day,” falls on January 6th. Christmas in Cuba has become more festive but is not yet the same as it used to be. Although Christmas day is again considered a legal holiday in Cuba, children still have to attend school on this holiday and stores, restaurants and markets stay open for regular business. Christmas trees and decorations are usually only displayed at upscale hotels and resorts.

No, I went to the bar to ask for a mojito and that guy Johnny said he didn’t make mojitos. Then he offered to make me a mint julep, in one of those silver cups and everything.” “Did you know say the true cause of the Civil War was some Northerner adding nutmeg to a mint julep?” Lucy asked.

Jackie looked out at me with a smile that was small, but somehow made me feel like everything was going to be all right. “Hey, sailor,” she said. “Would you like a lift?” And the smile got just a little bit wider as she said, “I think it’s mojito time.” I thought so, too. I got in the car.

I got Jackie into the suite without any outbursts of Kantian Dialectic, and as we settled into our chairs on the balcony and waited for mojitos, Kathy knocked on the door, bustling past me with a haughty glare when I let her in, and heading straight out to Jackie, her hands full of papers and her eternal phone and Starbucks cup.

The mojitos came. Kathy waved papers and yammered for another ten minutes, while Jackie nodded, interrupting a few times with blunt questions, signing a couple of papers and nodding wearily at the nearly endless flow of details. When Kathy finally gathered up the papers, and her coffee cup, Jackie looked tired and a little bit bleak. I wondered why. She had endured Kathy’s fusillade, which had been an exhausting tirade from a rather unpleasant person, but even so, I was surprised at how mortal Jackie looked all of a sudden. She picked up her mojito and sipped as I led Kathy out and chained the door behind her, pondering the heavy price of fame. It had all seemed so attractive, but now I found myself wondering.

Dexter, of course, is made of sterner stuff than any mere mortal, and imploring looks from a beautiful woman have never had any power over Our Wicked Warrior. And it was an absurd idea, something far too strange even to contemplate—me, a bodyguard? It was out of the question. And yet somehow, when the workday ended that evening and all good wage slaves trotted dutifully away to hearth and home, I found myself on the balcony of a suite at the Grove Isle Hotel, sipping a mojito and watching as a spectacular sunset blew up the sky behind us, reflecting orange and red and pink onto the water of Biscayne Bay. There was a tray of cheese and fresh fruit on the table beside me, and the Glock was an uncomfortable lump in my side, and I was filled with wonder at the unavoidable notion that Life makes no sense at all, especially when things have taken a sudden and extravagant turn into surreal and unearned luxury. Terror, pain, and nausea I can understand, but this? I could only assume I was being set up for something even worse. Still, the mojito was very good, and one of the cheeses had a very nice bite to it. I wondered if anyone ever really got used to living like this. It didn’t seem possible; weren’t we all made to sweat and suffer and endure painful hardship as we toiled endlessly in the vile cesspit of life on earth? How did sharp cheese, fresh strawberries, and utter luxury fit in with that?

Alla fine della serata, mentre mi avvio verso l'uscita, mi sento fluttuare nel mio personalissimo Wonderland. Perché ho flirtato con un figo del calibro di A.M., perché mi sento vezzosa e chic come Keira Knightley nella pubblicità di Coco Mademoiselle e infine, last but not least, perché ho decisamente esagerato con i mojito e sento di aver perso i contatti con il mio corpo, come quella volta che ho provato un materasso memory foam al centro commerciale.

The movies were just kind of figuring out how to use computers in 2003, and nobody was just kind of figuring out how to use computers harder than Michael Bay. It’s tempting to say that every frame of Bad Boys II looks like a TV commercial, but truly every frame looks like a print advertisement, like those Candies ads where Jenny McCarthy’s taking a shit, shallow and glossy and tinged acid green. There are four car chases, one of which is at least fifteen minutes long. Even the most passing transitions are giddily tasteless: the camera EXPLODES out of the speedboat’s tailpipe and ZOOMS across Biscayne Bay and WHAMS down the ventilation shaft in the backward sunglasses factory and SHOOMPS into the buttcrack of a raver’s low-rise jeans and SPROINGS across her transverse colon and SQUEAKS through her appendix and AIRHORNS out her belly button and PLOPS into the Cuban drug lord’s mojito as he shoots his favorite nephew in the head while saying, “Adios, kemosabe,” or something fucking cool like that. When faced with a choice, Bay picks “all of the above” every time. He’s like a dog in one of those obedience trials who’s like, “Obedience? I don’t know her,” and just goes buck wild on the sausages. Except instead of “obedience” it’s “having a coherent plot that holds the audience’s attention” and instead of “sausages” it’s “explosions, Ferrari chases, and how many different cool kinds of box could a gun come in.

Port Lonely had two bars. Maria had visited each only once before. One bar called Clarence’s charged twelve dollars for a mojito and housed an aging jazz pianist who looked like he was digging his way out of the place through the piano, desperately trying to flee the smell of disinfectant and avocado. The other bar didn’t know what a mojito was, and if they ever encountered an avocado they’d probably shoot it. They served both kinds of alcohol—beer and bourbon. Although on ladies’ night the bartender had been known to blow the dust off a bottle of tequila.

mojitos

I was no closer to getting Alma released from house arrest, and my list of suspects, motives, and means was more muddled than the mint for a mojito.

What goes around comes back around. Doesn’t matter how saintly of a person you pretend to be. You harm someone in whichever way-insidiously or blatantly, you will still be served. That’s inevitable. So, as ‘you get what you deserve’ and sink in your misery, imma drink my mojito.

What goes around comes back around. Doesn’t matter how saintly of a person you pretend to be. You harm someone in whichever way-insidiously or blatantly, you will still be served. That’s inevitable. So, as ‘you get what you deserve’ and sink in your misery, imma drink my mojito.

What goes around comes back around. Doesn’t matter how saintly of a person you pretend to be. You harm others in whichever way-insidiously or blatantly, you will still be served. That’s inevitable. So, as ‘you get what you deserve’ and sink in your misery, imma drink my mojito.

But I was not looking for repose or tranquility. This weekend was an aberration. It is pleasant in Mexico to sit by the beach, inert and sunlit, sipping a mojito, but who wants to hear about that? What you crave in reading a travel narrative is the unexpected, a taste of fear, the sudden emergence by the roadside of a wicked policeman, threatening harm.

Jeff’s expression changed from confused to mad to upset as he looked from one of them to the other. When he appeared to have made up his mind, he tossed down his napkin and rose. “Well.” It was all he got out. Delilah got her only satisfaction from the fact that the goon was in a booth, and he didn’t make it all the way to standing before he hit his thighs against the table and had to scoot out, ungracefully, to the side. “Goodnight.” He raised his weak chin high and stamped out of the bar like a child. Delilah let loose in a low growl, and it cost her every effort to keep her response to mere words. If she’d had her way, her focus was strong enough to create a small wind around her and make her eyes burn red. But her witchcraft had cost her enough already where Brandon was concerned. Even though she was mad enough to burn all bridges and say to hell with it, she kept it in check. “What are you doing?” He laughed. “What, you don’t remember Tiger and Muffin?” She drew a deep breath and held her emotions on tight rein. The waitress chose that moment to saunter her bare belly up to their booth and ask if they wanted anything else. Delilah merely ground out the word ‘no.’ The waitress didn’t seem to notice, simply smiled and said ‘thank you,’ instantaneously producing a check and sliding it to the middle of the table, before she sauntered away. Great, Delilah thought, the obnoxious Jeff had downed five very over-priced snobby beers and she was stuck with the bill. She didn’t think this could get any worse. /> But Brandon had her pinned into the booth, the fake sad look gone from his face. The humor now missing as well. Which was just fine, since she didn’t have any of her own. She asked him again. “What are you doing here in my booth?” “Running your date off. Sparing him memory loss and who knows what.” He reached out and snaked her mojito away, before taking a healthy gulp. “That’s mine!” His smile resembled a shark’s. “After everything else we’ve done, sharing a glass isn’t going to kill you.” He took another drink, draining half of what remained and a lot of her sanity. “I had to save the dweeb from you.” “He didn’t need saving.” She tried again to push past him, but he didn’t budge. “So you weren’t going to take him home and screw his brains out and make him forget everything?” She was so shocked by his blunt but accurate assessment of their first night together that she didn’t think, just blurted out, “No!” That startled Brandon, and he asked, “why not?” out of genuine curiosity, before she could regroup. “I didn’t like him.” Crap, that was a whole other can of worms. She sat back, at last resigned to this going from bad to worse. It was Brandon’s turn to be startled.

mojitos

L’amore era un mucchio di emozioni che cadevano a gocce e il matrimonio un’idea – pensava Beatrice nel suo bel bagno quella sera, sorseggiando un mojito ghiacciato –, un’idea che aveva bisogno di due persone opposte e complementari per diventare una finzione funzionante. Eppure ogni finzione aveva bisogno di qualche briciola di realtà. Così lei aveva bisogno di conoscere persone nuove, di fare altre esperienze, di modificare il suo paesaggio di sempre, cambiando l’angolo di veduta. Quelle erano le sue briciole di realtà. Che la facevano sentire viva.

pomegranate mojito