Old Dogs and New Tricks

Many years ago when our children were little, my husband and I went through a rough patch in our marriage as we adapted to our relatively new parental roles and tried to understand how we each had changed and been changed through the process. We sought the help of a counselor who, after meeting for the first time, assigned us the task of writing a family mission statement. Covertly we both rolled our eyes, but, good students that we were, we completed the assignment. Now, a dozen years later, I am still surprisintly fond of that mission statement. The last paragraph, in particular, which seemed so futuristic when we wrote it, is becoming more and more in focus.

"As we grow older we will seek flexibility in dealing with new situations as they arise. We hope to gracefully transition from the parent/child relationship to that of a peer with our children. We hope to always learn from and accept the values, cultures, and spiritual beliefs of others. And may our children and their loved ones always enjoy returning to our home."

Those two little beings who walked hand in hand with us at Discovery Park all those years ago are growing up.

Sometimes I feel as though I now need to write my own personal mission statement. For 18 years I have, first and foremost, been a mom. That role certainly isn't dropping by the wayside, but the all-consuming nature of raising young children IS drifting away. And if I'm honest with myself, there's a lot of bittersweetness in that. I certainly don't miss pulling the all-nighters when both kids were sick, nor the unexpected trips to the ER. I appreciate the added cups of tea that I am now able to sit down with and enjoy, as well as the growing elapsed time between fill-ups at the gas station. And although teenagers can be trying at times, it gives me such a sense of pride to watch them spread their wings. Motherhood has been a large part of my identity for a long time, and it's a little uncomfortable not knowing exactly what will take its day-to-day, hour-by-hour place. Don't get me wrong, my days are plenty full, but when I ask myself if they are as happily filled as when my children were little, I'm not so sure. Whether you're a parent or not, I think we all have those times in life when we give something up, or at least alter its path, for someone or something else. Picking it back up, I realize, is not always easy.

I spoke last week to a woman who subs in our district and is one of my favorites. She came to teaching late, having just obtained her certificate four years ago. She has been trying to get hired by the district ever since but with sadness admitted that she didn't think she would ever be hired. When I asked why, she pointed out the number of young new teachers she now subs for who are the same age as her own children. "I'm more expensive to the district. They're looking for candidates much younger than me."  I have little doubt that her talents will find her settled eventually, but her comments were sobering. Change is not always easy.

Then I think of several friends who went back to school later in life to try on a new career. While sitting next to fellow students who were half their age, they juggled school, spousal relationships, children, and activities.  They required their aging brains to learns an extensive amount of new vocabulary and that, as anyone with an aging brain knows, is no easy feat. After years of school, they tackled  the steep uphill learning curve of a new job and a new career. Chutzpah. These women have chutzpah, and I admire them tremendously.

Change can happen; it sometimes just takes baby steps. Depending on the day and mood, sometimes I can accept life's slug-like pace; sometimes I want it NOW, just like Veruca Salt in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.  I am happy, however, to report that this old dog has learned one new trick. Truly a baby step, but a really fun one.  You had thought, perhaps, that I had lost track of the mixology part of my blog?  No, no. You see, I have learned how to flame an orange, one of the coolest bartending tricks there is. I would love to come over to your home right now and give you a personal demonstration, but instead I give you a link to a video that illustrates this skill. The slow-motion replay is especially effective. I am currently working on my English accent so that I can mimic this chap's demonstration. I am also trying to talk my husband into adding a blue-hued bar into our home. Too cool.

My cocktail choice this week also represents a baby step. While researching late at night amongst the books in my ever-growing mixology library, I came across Campari, an aperitif made from an infusion of herbs and fruit that is characterized by its bitter flavor. I instantly felt a challenge: could I actually learn to like this Campari stuff or was I destined to stay with sweet cosmos, margeritas, and pina coladas? I initially tried easing my way into the world of Campari, making a drink that also included  vodka, orange juice, and limoncella, but my first sips fed my worst fear: I would need to stay away from the bitter stuff. But then I decided to boldly try the most well-known Campari drink, the Negroni. Made with gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari, I fully anticipated hating this drink. Perhaps it was the flaming orange that made the difference, but after taking my first sip, I felt like Mikey. I actually liked this drink! Full of indescribable flavor, the Negroni is definitely different from anything I have featured up to now in this blog, but I dare you to give it a try. Go out on a limb. Take a baby step. And then let me know what you think. My comment box would love to hear how you get along with Campari.

Negroni
1 oz. Campari
1 oz. sweet vermouth (not dry)
1 oz. gin
Flamed orange peel for garnish

Combine everything but the orange in a glass with ice and stir. No shaking. Garnish with the orange. If you desire even more spark, add a dash of orange bitters.

Now if you give the Negroni a try and decide that Campari is just too bitter, here's another option that is sweeter and better, in my opinion, than the one I tried with limoncella. See what you think.

South Beach
3/4 oz. Campari
3/4 oz. Amaretto
1/2 oz. simple syrup
2 oz. fresh orange juice (I used Cara Cara, which added a nice deep color)
And yes, a flamed orange peel for garnish

This one has citrus, so you can shake all these ingredients with ice and strain into a glass.

One final note. You probably noticed I dropped Angostura from my blog title. The double name was confusing to some who were trying to find the blog, so for simplicity I have gone solely to one name. I still hold the little bottle with the oversized label in high esteem, and you will see it often in my blog -- just not in the title. L'Chayim!