The Champion of Chambord
By Dan Dunn

The Imbiber has long been a fan of Chambord for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that the ladies flat-out flipped over the empty bottle I had mounted on the dashboard of my El Camino back in sophomore year of college. As aphrodisiacs go, it was the automotive accessory equivalent of raw oysters and expensive champagne… or so I imagined, given that the most a date could reasonably expect out of me in those cash-strapped days was some beer and pot stickers during happy hour at TGI Fridays. It was back then that Chambord, a syrupy raspberry-flavored liqueur from France’s Loire Valley, emerged as a key ingredient in such Party Girl cocktail favorites as the purple hooter and a popular variation of sex on the beach. Indeed, for many skirt-chasers like me who came of age (drinking age, that is) in the eighties and nineties, Chambord is and always will be the abiding liqueur of love. And by “love” I mean drunken one-night stands in cramped apartments shared by far too many roommates.To read the rest click here...
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