Sitting at the Interlaken Hotel bar in the Berkshireâ€™s foothills, the couple next to me buys a drink. A middle-aged couple (their words not mine) having a weekend away from kids - the first in a long time. He announces his age is forty-two and he thinks he is too old to be out. He asks the bartender, for a recommendation for other local bars where they can head out to and find some fun. The bartender tells him of a place close by, but heâ€™s feeling like he will look like all of the kidsâ€™ dad and so lingers as an excuse to not venture forth. Instead he suggests we all have an Irish Car Bomb â€“ the drink of his youth, when he was cool with his buds and knew where he fit in. Rather than venturing off of his barstool he buys a round for all takers at the bar â€¦ the Guinness arrives with a floater of Jameson and a sidecar of Baileyâ€™s Irish Cream. We all watch as he picks up the shot and drops it into the foamy Guinness - his wife encourages him to chug-a-lug as he once did in the glory of his youth. The bartender sets everyone up - Irish Car Bombs all around! It kind of tastes like malted milk â€“ quite yummy. Thanks for the nightcap Will! Click here to sign up for Christine's Food for Friends e-newsletter!