It has gone on about five years now, since that fateful trip to Rio: I just can’t get the caipirinha out of my mind. I can barely get it out of my bloodstream. I so love that tingly mix of cachaça (pronounced kuh-SHA-suh, a Brazilian spirit not unlike white rum), muddled lime pieces, sugar and ice, I will drink it in any season, any mood, any bar, any glass.