Linking back: apropos here is the final verse of the Odgen Nash poem from which I recently quoted regarding mint juleps. A toast to the joys of imbibing:

Then here's to the heartening wassail
Wherever good fellowship's found!
Be its master instead of its vassal,
And order the glasses around.
For there's something they put in the wassail
That prevents it from tasting like wicker.
Since it's not tapioca
Or mustard, or mocha,
I'm forced to conclude it's the liquor.