Taurus, I live and die for my time with you—live for the chow-down, and die from overeating. It's as if I’m an honorary Taurus. I most often return from our culinary excursions uncomfortably engorged, only to wake up starving and dehydrated. I find myself both proud and disgusted with my performance, a feeling that luckily dissolves after a day of salad and a nice shot of chlorophyll. You are solid, deliberate, fixed in your ways, motivated by food and money, and fueled by the desire principle. That's why I created an over-the-top cocktail with a Taurus-pleasing combination of caramel cream liqueur, vodka, a bacon-popcorn simple syrup, and a scotch float; it's the perfect marriage of salty, smoky, and sweet. Eating and drinking at the same time—what more could a Taurus ask for?