Saturday, April 18, 2009
Shaken, Not Stirred
The other evening I had the pleasure of hanging at a wonderful grown-ups-and-children party of our dear friends, a 007 party for a turning-8-year-old. The children were given real cocktail shakers for special favors, and shown how to shake a virgin fruit-juice cocktail, and they drank and went on elaborate spy missions and played roulette while their elders had real cocktails, shaken not stirred, and ate dozens of tiny delicate delicious blinis and got tanked. There was so much laughter and good feeling all around, it was just so delicious and my Texas-worn soul is now healed again, with a couple of vodka martinis and a little love.
It did point up the fact that an occasional cocktail hour has been missing from my life...
My grandparents, even with all their flaws, knew the value of a good weekly cocktail party, where grown-ups could eat salted nuts and overindulge in liquor and smoke the cigarettes presented graciously in fine china cigarette cups and pass off-color remarks to their hearts' content, winkwink nudgenudge. The children passed the trays of hors d'oeuvres, had their cheeks pinched, and then went off to fend for themselves. That generation knew the value of a good conversation. They could hardly be called drab. I'm sure when they were in their cups, they made passes at each other, they argued about books they'd read.
I'm inspired to resurrect this tradition. It just couldn't be a bad thing, could it?
If you like, tell me your favorite cocktail.
p.s. while I'm on the subject of friendly gatherings, I just wanted to thank everyone for all the kind words during my hideous Texas sojourn. I really appreciated the thoughtfulness of your response to my piteous whinging!
*photo, "Martini Time" by wickenden, courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons