Hi there. I don't know why the otherwise lovely pic above insists on orienting itself sideways. But let's just accept it as some sort of metaphor for the randomness, the precariousness with which life can come at a person, the balancing act we all agree to execute every time our feet hit the bedroom floorboards. It's still a proper cocktail, goddamn, and after all this time I've been away, that's all my thirst cares about.
So, there is a little bit of news to share on my end, a couple new developments in my life since last we spoke so very long ago. (Months! Practically a year! Are months the new year? Is that a trend I missed since going underground? On a related topic, wtf is a Harlem shake?)
I have a baby now.
People, life was filled with perfectly great reasons to libate before I had the kid. Now there is but one reason to seek out solace in a cocktail glass, and it is this awesome, animated mound of delight, terror, havoc, charm and chaos. She is a writhing, smiling, life-sucking raison d'inebriate.
Unfortunately, that life-sucking part ain't no joke. I want need crave a cocktail at day's end, and the choice of a cocktail, singular, as opposed to many cocktails (that would necessitate an entire cocktail rack (that's a Wayne's World reference)) also ain't no joke, because one cocktail at a time is all I can handle now. My newly established drinking habits remind me of Ferris Bueller's Day Off. To paraphrase: If I go for two, I'm probably gonna have to barf up my lunch, so I'd better make this one count.
Make it special! Make it count! Is my new cocktailing mantra.
It's not entirely a coincidence, therefore, that the other thing I did on my maternity leave was write a cocktail book called The Big Book of Martinis for Moms -- which just so happens to come out To-Day! Check it out on Amazon, why don't 'cha? (Buy "check it out," I mean buy it; proceed to checkout!)
The book contains about 175 cocktail recipes worthy of both a mother's scant, precious time and a cocktail lover's top-shelf tastes. There are no sippy-cup sangrias or Hi-C highballs, if that's what you're thinking. This book's chockablock with straight-up booze, people.
So, of course, I wanted to share with you one of the book's recipes on this otherwise-un-noteworthy Monday afternoon. The Fifty Fifty Martini is a rather wet martini. In fact, given how martinis are preferred bone-dry nowadays, it's downright drenched. In The Big Book of Martinis for Moms, I recommend it as a commemorative tipple for learning to share the load with your co-parent:
Look up "for better or for worse" in the dictionary and you'll find a picture of a screaming baby in a crib and two new parents staring at one another, dumbstruck. Your little one may have been your singular burden to bear for nine body-battering months, but now she's a shared responsibility, equal parts "yours, mine and ours." And the truth is, your partner is your only true ally in this whole parenting thing. Especially once the fanfare from family and friends dies down, and it's just the three of you left to your own devices, wondering what the heck is supposed to happen next. Here's a hint: Talk it out. Listen and learn. Ask what your partner thinks. Sometimes father really does know best. (Really!)
Life is harder now, but to quote A League Of Their Own (why am I quoting all the movies I saw on TBS last weekend?!), the hard is what makes it great. The Fifty Fifty Martini is what makes it palatable.
The Fifty Fifty Martini
(As published in The Big Book of Martinis for Moms -- have you bought it yet?)
2 ounces dry gin
2 ounces dry vermouth
Cocktail olives, to garnish
Combine gin and vermouth in an ice-filled mixing glass and stir briskly for about a minute. Strain into a chilled martini glass. Skewer your olives for best presentation and add them to garnish.