The Joejito

My dad’s cooking reminds me of businessmen in Hugo Boss suits wearing sneakers. But every once in a while he swaps the Keds for a pair of suede Ferragamos and gets it right. Those Ferragamos are his mojito… and it is perfection. I was upper middle class enough to have a lime tree in my backyard growing up in Florida, and my dad picked and juiced its limes consistently. The only problem is that he eyeballs everything he makes, and to get him to create an actual recipe was beyond pulling teeth. It was like pulling rotted gums, the tongue, and that dangling flap of skin in the back of your throat that surely has a scientific name I’ll never remember. But alas, he caved, and this is the recipe I may or may not have blacked out on during multiple family gatherings.