Not that I’m a lush, but there have been some monumental cocktails in my life of late.
First, when Must Own More was in town, we had two of the most spectacularly good versions of old-school, classic cocktails that I’ve had in a while at the hotel in which she kipped.* She had a fabulous Hendricks martini in a gloriously elegant martini glass (I coveted it a great deal); I, somewhat tired and, perhaps a tad hungover, had a spicy, tasty bloody mary that perfectly balanced tomato and vodka – I find quite frequently that a bloody mary errs too much either way. This was great. And pretty.
Then over the Treason Weekend/Independence Day Bank holiday weekend TOH and I went to the Cocktail Culture exhibition at RISD. Not only was it ace – interesting, funny, remarkable shirts and dresses everywhere - we saw a perfect, six-glass set (plus ice cube bowl and tongs) of our cocktail shaker and glasses (only four, sadly) that we had purchased about six months previously from What Cheer!. What Cheer! is not only the Providence city motto, it’s a fun, jam-packed basement of treasures that has amazing old postcards, glassware, and many, many twelve-inch remixes of LaToya & Jermaine Jackson records. I could quite happily spend a fortune there. I suspect, somewhat fortunately for us, that the price of the cocktail shaker would have been considerably more had the purveyor known that a full set would end up in that exhibition. As it is, we know now that it was made probably between 1933 and 1940. Very exciting indeed.
That weekend we also made Jameson Whiskey Sours using this recipe from one of my favourite cocktail blogs (and from where I discovered the Murricane, joy of my life). It was the first time in my life I’ve really enjoyed a [Name Your Spirit] Sour – making it from scratch with one’s own simple syrup, freshly squeezed lemons and with a beautiful curl of orange peel creates a concoction a world away from the grim, processed sour mix that often comes from a place that is happy to serve you a Midori Sour (bleurgh and yes, I have drunk one of those. Not recommended).
* We also saw Patrick Viera who, unsurprisingly, is a) very beautiful in real life (footballers, unlike actors, are always considerably larger height- and muscle-wise when you see them in person) and b) had a very pretty wife. Sadly, almost no one in this country could get quite as excited as I did but bloody hell – that made my star-spotting year. There was also excellent Euro-rich type spotting.