Intrepid

Most of us had to actually learn to drink.   I like to think I was a quick study, but even the most intrepid of us (whew, got it right) usually have to practice to be able to drink without gagging and choking.  After decades of practice I can now do tequila shots (mini ones) relatively gracefully; my trick is take all of that energy jolt and direct it down through my arm so that I can slam, slam my hand down on the bar, and maybe give the most feminine of yelps.  After all these years I still get confused sometimes and forget the sequence -- lime, tequila, salt?  salt, lime, tequila?  Sometimes I have to do several before I get it right:  salt, tequila, lime (I think).  Anyway, it ends up just perfect. 

That said, for the non-drinkers out there, I'm sorry, it's too late.  Don't even try.  You'll just look silly, and there are so many better ways to look silly.  Trust me on this, as I recently took up hula hooping and know whereof I speak.  And, if you're wondering how to spell it, hula or hoola, to those in the inner circle (get it??), it's just hooping. 

Many years ago I worked as a breakfast cook in a Friendly's (a mid-Atlantic chain that probably doesn't exist any longer (note to self:  Google this)).  I was a college student as were most of my co-workers, but the woman who worked with me from 6:00 to 10:00 a.m. was what we called a townie, older than me by about a decade, tough as nails, and not too fond of us spoiled college brats.  She knew how to cook breakfast and work a counter, and didn't give out advice easily.  I felt honored one morning when she suggested I try Shout on my apron stains, and I knew I'd won her over (I worked hard) when she sidled up to me one morning at the grill as I was about to mangle some eggs (again), took the spatula out of my hand, slid it under the over-easies, flipped them, and said "don't be afraid of your yolks".  Intrepid.  That was some of the best advice I ever got, and I'm telling you this now because just this morning it hit me:  don't be afraid of the hoop. 

As for the limoncello, baby, that stuff scares me!  I open the freezer door, stare it down, and close the door.  Once I brought it out of the freezer and it got as far as a bar stool that lives in the middle of the kitchen, and I just circled it ... slowly ... put it back. 

See how it seems to loom large? 

and larger????

Now, whooooo's hooping??

You Know Who You Are

Okay, is no one reading?  Or are you too scared (or polite, hah!) to tell me that I used the word 'intrepid' incorrectly in a previous post?  I've been wondering what's been keeping me up at night, tossing and turning, knowing that something was just not right with the universe.  Thanks, all.  Thanks a lot.  A toast to you with my fire and ice limoncello. 

Cheers!

The Amalfi Dream

Looked better than it tasted ... but it does look nice with cranes skating on the surface ...

Chilling ...

the limoncello, that is, in the freezer right between the non-vegan rib eyes from a local ranch and non-vegan half gallons of Texas ice cream (intense chocolate and natural vanilla bean).  They say that limoncello should be served icy cold; having tasted it at room temperature and finding it vile I am hoping that some time in the freezer makes all the difference.  Last evening I tried it in a simple little cocktail called the Amalfi Dream, with vodka and triple sec, shaken with ice and served over cubes with a twist and it was, sorry to say, disappointing.  I should have known better than to use triple sec, jeez what was I thinking, and with Cointreau right there in the cabinet?  I've heard tell that there's a distillery in Portland that makes a decent triple sec -- another reason to move, perhaps? 

BTW, what makes the chocolate ice cream "intense" is the addition of fudge swirls and semi-sweet chocolate chunks, delicious on it's own but even better cut with a little natural vanilla bean served along side in the same dish.  Especially good while watching The Colbert Report. 

a thing of beauty

is a joy while it lasts!!!!!

(notice the hammock in the background -- perfect for sipping icy limoncello in the moonlight?)

Limoncello, so near and yet ...

It's time to bottle the Limoncello, hell, it's time to drink the Limoncello, and here I am still without the proper equipment for filtering and bottling.  Just last week I had the opportunity to score some cheesecloth and blew it.  I was at a birthday party and because I had a slightly greater ability to guess people's sexual fantasies than anyone else during a party game (it was much tamer than it sounds) I got to choose among several party favors presented on a lovely silver platter:  bows, a Billie Holiday CD, earrings, a soy candle, cheesecloth ... and I chose the candle.  The cheesecloth stands alone.

Today it's off to Hobby Lobby for cheesecloth, World Market for bottles, and wherever one goes to find a funnel, and tonight there will be Limoncello.  Honestly, I'm a little intrepid, never having had the stuff and having no standard by which to judge it's strength, flavor, sweetness, acidity, blah blah blah.  Plus when I added the simple syrup to the zesty alcohol infusion 53 days ago (but who's counting?), which involved actually inhaling the alcohol fumes, I woke up the next morning with a migraine the likes of which I've experienced only a handful of times in my life.  I'm quite sure it was from the cheap tequila the Spectrum Health Club (yes, you read that correctly) had used for margaritas served at their Mother's Day dance party earlier that same evening, which I drank because any time I do a dance demo in front of a couple of hundred people I like to have a good belt of tequila first (about one shot per 100 people is about right).  From now it will be a belt of good tequila rather than a good belt of tequila, or in the best of all possible worlds ... both.

Holy Batshit Robin!

I can't believe, dear fill-in-the-blank, how long it's been.  I got side-tracked making hula hoops, and you have to take a moment to imagine, I mean it, how it looks and feels to take a stack of hoops with you to your cancer survivor Nia class in your Mini Cooper, and still manage to buckle your seat belt.  They will not, repeat not, fit into the "trunk"  (hah!), so the only way to transport them is to actually wear them while driving -- it helps to listen to something, anything really, from Motown (I suggest "Signed, Sealed, Delivered ... I'm Yours).

So, signed, sealed, delivered, I'm back!!  I have missed you 'till it hurts ... don't let me disappear for so long again ... please, s'il vous plait, por favor ...