Life has been…busy, but in the most excellent sort of way. Making new friends, discovering new places and traditions. I’m adjusting to my new home, the new ‘hood, and a new job. Squeezing my feet into pumps and teetering around like a stilt walker is like riding a bike for me…it never quite leaves you, but you will probably hit the pavement once or twice and need a bandaid.
Something I’m not in love with: the wine here.
1. I spent a bit of euro on a lovely hand-crafted Laguiole corkscrew before I left Paris, as I am slightly obsessed with their knives. A practical momento of sorts, as I’m still sentimental about my time there.
2. I have yet to use it. Every bottle of wine I can find that is under £20 is a screw-top. Tragic. It seems that wine made for export to the UK Market gets a screw-top slapped on.
3. This aforemention wine gives me a headache instantly, without fail. If I have more than one glass, I get insanely pissed off, dehydrated and achy. It’s literally drinking poison. And the impossible has happened: I’m not ever drunk, but I identify as an angry drunk. It's true what they say: the French keep all the best stuff for themselves, they export the swill.
4. I need to find a source for non-lethal wine.
Until I do, there is cocktails.
One of the things I’m loving about the 9-5 is the excuse to have a cocktail as the sun is dipping below the horizon. It just feels right in a way that I’m not quite comfortable with exploring the psychie of too deeply. I found myself flush with bourbon recently, and after making this chicken (which was fairly delicious, you should try it), I had a big-ass bottle of pomegranate juice that needed some help to swig. By itself, it’s bitter and puckery, but smooth it out and it’s de-lovely.
Oh, and look what I got! An adorable little set of bitters in a vintage travel tin. I travel light, but I’m starting to think I need to start traveling much more stylishly.
While I made the mistake of ordering a cocktail shaker off Amazon (along with a bottle of Scotch and some hard-to-find Cynar) and it never quite got here. Improvising is my middle name, and making due with a measuring cup, while not as satisfying as the shake-shake-shake-shake of a glowing orb of cocktail mixing goodness, got me the approximate proportions.
And it’s delicious, in a slightly exotic sweet-tart sort of way. Just what you need to melt away your day into a lovely puddle of uncaring.
· 1/4 ounce pomegranate molasses (which is crazy cheap at the Mideast grocery store, mega expensive everywhere else)
· 1 ounce pomegranate juice
· 1 ounce freshly squeezed orange juice
· 3 ounces bourbon (or a bit more if your day is shite, but I think 3 makes for good sips)
· Dash of Angostura bitters
· Orange twist. Or, if you are uncivilized, by all means, go without the garnish.
Throw the whole mess into a shaker, give it a good jostle with some ice. Pour into a highball and garnish. Enjoy.
Throw the whole mess into a shaker, give it a good jostle with some ice. Pour into a highball and garnish. Enjoy.
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