As the days lengthen and you begin craving the delicate cocktails of warmer weather, perch yourself on a patio—Tom Collins in hand—and consider the following tale: It’s 1874, and a notorious slanderer has been running unbridled through the public houses of New York City. A friend informs you that you’ve been the latest victim of Tom Collins’ wicked tongue. You make haste to the local bar to confront the scoundrel, but, when you arrive and ask for Collins, you’re handed a tall, sour gin beverage instead.
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Taylor St. John 