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Are Bloody Caesars a thing where you live? As in, a Bloody Mary that swaps in Clamato for toe-mah-toe juice? They seem to be a thing in Montreal — or all of Canada — and I had my first (virgin) one last weekend at Cafe Sardine (to celebrate my Saveur best-blog nom; vote, won’t you?). Let me rhapsodize on this place for a sec before I continue:
The PhoBlograpHusband finds it funny, how particular I am about tomatoes. I won’t eat the grape or cherry varieties unless they’ve been pre-sliced, because otherwise they burst in my mouth like that Freshen-up gum and I find that icky. I’ll eat an enormous amount of sliced tomatoes on pizzas and burgers and in sammies and salads, but I won’t eat one all by itself. Don’t get me started on people who bite into tommies like they’re apples.
I’ve got just one rule for Bloody Marys, aka tommies for alkies: I try never to finish off an entire one, because they’re just too filling. Especially in summer, when the ol’ tummy takes any chance it can get to force a full-body, ass-parking, sluggish-apolooza shutdown.
Except now, voila! The Bloody Mary al Fresca! It’s all of the tomato taste with none of the tomato waste(d).