My dad and I used to have this tradition of trying to beat one another at finding the 6 differences as quickly as possible in Hocus Focus, that two-paneled picture you see in the Comics & Puzzles section of the newspaper. As simple as the drawings were, it was amazing how challenged we each could be, especially when the other quickly got to 5. I still play Hocus Focus when free time allows. On days when the differences just don't appear, I imagine my dad quickly claiming victory; when my own vision works wonders, I gloat at my prowess and make my victory "V".
Here's a little version of Hocus Focus for you:
Okay, I admit, I stretched the rules of the game because there are more than 6 changes between these two pictures. The one on the left shows my liquor collection pre-blog days when I had the ingredients to make a gin and tonic, kir, and margarita, along with an assortment of little airplane bottles that were used for cooking and baking. Now, just four months later, my collection and repetoire are definitely growing. Ignoring the master card bills that have also blossomed, I'm starting to recognize that I've learned a thing or two about mixing drinks.
When we moved into our current house about eight years ago, we found ourselves the proud owners of a wet bar. Well, proud might not be the right word. The little alcove in our family room had shelves, mirrors, a black sink and gold-rimmed faucet -- all the makings for a feature article in Architectural Digest. But the wet bar, we decided, just wasn't us and so it went away, only to be replaced by beautiful wood shelves and cabinets. Fast forward to present day, and my family is now wondering if mom is going to insist on a return to the wet bar. No, I am not, but I will say that the pantry shelf that holds my liquor collection is quickly running out of room, and I'm only four months into this blogging project. Just last night I was reading about the Pisco Sour, which requires the purchase of pisco, a grape brandy made from the muscot grape in Peru and Chile. If you look closely at the second photo above, you will not find pisco, so clearly another purchase is in my future. The cereal boxes may just have to find a new home.
Ever since I began this blog I have known that it was only a matter of time before I delved into the world of martinis -- that mysterious world that seems to identify the drinker as a true connoisseur who would raise his or her nose at those oversized pina coladas adorned with multiple colorful umbrellas. My first introduction to the martini came from Bill Eaton who lived across the street from me in college. Bill was one of those frustratingly brilliant individuals who could maintain a 4.0 average on just an hour's worth of work each day. As a result, Bill had a lot of free time and would use it to lounge on his front porch sipping martinis. He was always kind enough to extend an invitation for his daily happy hour, so one day I took him up on his offer. I quicly discovered that my 20-year-old palate, the same one that loved Whiskey Sours and White Russians, did not love martinis. I just wasn't ready.
A few weeks ago I found myself in the company of another drink officianado, my brother. While taking drink orders, I explained my desire, or really by blogging duty, to become re-acquainted with the martini. "I have just the drink for you," he replied. "I'll make you a Vesper. Did you see the movie Casino Royale?" he asked. Did I see Casino Royale? Dear brother, did you not read one of my earliest blog posts in which I describe introducing my ten-year-old son to ALL the James Bond films in chronological order? Of course I saw Casino Royale. If I was a little more bold, I would hang a poster of Daniel Craig in our bedroom and ignore my husband's complaints, but I digress. My brother then recited Daniel Craig's bar order in that movie, word for word: "Dry martini. Wait... three measures of Gordon's; one of vodka; half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it over ice, and add a thin slice of lemon peel." Take a look at this link, and you, too, will be pondering the purchase of a new poster.
Now those of you who HAVE been following my blog know that I once chided James Bond for shaking a drink that was meant to be stirred. Well, it turns out that shaking is crucial for the Vesper Martini. Ice is important to all drinks because it dilutes the cocktail and takes away the bite that would be too strong if you just mixed chilled alcolhol. When my brother fixed my Vesper, he also pre-chilled the glass, which was lovely touch. So my apologies for leading you astray about shaking versus stirring. Many martinis are stirred, but the Vesper is shaken.
A quick note about the ingredients. The Kina Lillet that 007 mentions now goes under the name of just Lillet, which is a wine apertif that has some sweet orange and bitter green orange peel mixed in to give it a unique flavor. There is both Lillet rouge (red) and Lillet blanc (white), but for the Vesper you want Lillet blanc. And yes, Lillet was one of the most recent additions to my ever-expanding pantry collection.
I still love the oversized pina coladas with paper umbrellas, but the beautiful simplicity of the Vesper does set it apart into a special category. I look forward to the day when I can request my Vesper from a bartender just like Daniel Craig.
Vesper (adapted from the Bond version)
2 ounces of gin (Gordon's for authenticity)
1 ounce vodka
1/2 ounce Lillet blanc
Angostura bitters
Lemon peel for garnish
Chill your martini glass. Place the gin, vodka, and Lillet into a shaker with ice and shake vigorously. Strain into the chilled glass and add several dashes of bitters. Garnish with a twisted lemon peel. Cheers.
Here's a little version of Hocus Focus for you:
Okay, I admit, I stretched the rules of the game because there are more than 6 changes between these two pictures. The one on the left shows my liquor collection pre-blog days when I had the ingredients to make a gin and tonic, kir, and margarita, along with an assortment of little airplane bottles that were used for cooking and baking. Now, just four months later, my collection and repetoire are definitely growing. Ignoring the master card bills that have also blossomed, I'm starting to recognize that I've learned a thing or two about mixing drinks.
When we moved into our current house about eight years ago, we found ourselves the proud owners of a wet bar. Well, proud might not be the right word. The little alcove in our family room had shelves, mirrors, a black sink and gold-rimmed faucet -- all the makings for a feature article in Architectural Digest. But the wet bar, we decided, just wasn't us and so it went away, only to be replaced by beautiful wood shelves and cabinets. Fast forward to present day, and my family is now wondering if mom is going to insist on a return to the wet bar. No, I am not, but I will say that the pantry shelf that holds my liquor collection is quickly running out of room, and I'm only four months into this blogging project. Just last night I was reading about the Pisco Sour, which requires the purchase of pisco, a grape brandy made from the muscot grape in Peru and Chile. If you look closely at the second photo above, you will not find pisco, so clearly another purchase is in my future. The cereal boxes may just have to find a new home.
Ever since I began this blog I have known that it was only a matter of time before I delved into the world of martinis -- that mysterious world that seems to identify the drinker as a true connoisseur who would raise his or her nose at those oversized pina coladas adorned with multiple colorful umbrellas. My first introduction to the martini came from Bill Eaton who lived across the street from me in college. Bill was one of those frustratingly brilliant individuals who could maintain a 4.0 average on just an hour's worth of work each day. As a result, Bill had a lot of free time and would use it to lounge on his front porch sipping martinis. He was always kind enough to extend an invitation for his daily happy hour, so one day I took him up on his offer. I quicly discovered that my 20-year-old palate, the same one that loved Whiskey Sours and White Russians, did not love martinis. I just wasn't ready.
A few weeks ago I found myself in the company of another drink officianado, my brother. While taking drink orders, I explained my desire, or really by blogging duty, to become re-acquainted with the martini. "I have just the drink for you," he replied. "I'll make you a Vesper. Did you see the movie Casino Royale?" he asked. Did I see Casino Royale? Dear brother, did you not read one of my earliest blog posts in which I describe introducing my ten-year-old son to ALL the James Bond films in chronological order? Of course I saw Casino Royale. If I was a little more bold, I would hang a poster of Daniel Craig in our bedroom and ignore my husband's complaints, but I digress. My brother then recited Daniel Craig's bar order in that movie, word for word: "Dry martini. Wait... three measures of Gordon's; one of vodka; half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it over ice, and add a thin slice of lemon peel." Take a look at this link, and you, too, will be pondering the purchase of a new poster.
Now those of you who HAVE been following my blog know that I once chided James Bond for shaking a drink that was meant to be stirred. Well, it turns out that shaking is crucial for the Vesper Martini. Ice is important to all drinks because it dilutes the cocktail and takes away the bite that would be too strong if you just mixed chilled alcolhol. When my brother fixed my Vesper, he also pre-chilled the glass, which was lovely touch. So my apologies for leading you astray about shaking versus stirring. Many martinis are stirred, but the Vesper is shaken.
A quick note about the ingredients. The Kina Lillet that 007 mentions now goes under the name of just Lillet, which is a wine apertif that has some sweet orange and bitter green orange peel mixed in to give it a unique flavor. There is both Lillet rouge (red) and Lillet blanc (white), but for the Vesper you want Lillet blanc. And yes, Lillet was one of the most recent additions to my ever-expanding pantry collection.
I still love the oversized pina coladas with paper umbrellas, but the beautiful simplicity of the Vesper does set it apart into a special category. I look forward to the day when I can request my Vesper from a bartender just like Daniel Craig.
Vesper (adapted from the Bond version)
2 ounces of gin (Gordon's for authenticity)
1 ounce vodka
1/2 ounce Lillet blanc
Angostura bitters
Lemon peel for garnish
Chill your martini glass. Place the gin, vodka, and Lillet into a shaker with ice and shake vigorously. Strain into the chilled glass and add several dashes of bitters. Garnish with a twisted lemon peel. Cheers.
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