You’re sitting at a dark, bamboo-clad bar. The air is thick with the scent of spent lime hulls and freshly grated nutmeg. Across the mahogany, the bartender is a blur of motion. He grabs three different bottles of rum, a bottle of homemade cinnamon syrup, and a tin of fresh grapefruit juice. He doesn’t glance at a book. He doesn’t check a cheat sheet. Within seconds, a perfectly balanced Navy Grog is placed before you. For many of us in our 40s and 50s who have spent a decade
