It's funny what we remember from our youth. Why some memories stick while others disappear does not always make sense. Take, for instance, a memory I have from second grade. Mrs. Netherby, who honestly was one of my favorite teachers, asked us to write what we thought about the Vietnam War. The Vietnam War! In second grade!! Perhaps because I was always very young for my grade, or perhaps because my friends and I did not discuss things like this while playing kick the can, I honestly had no thoughts at the ripe old age of seven as to what the Vietnam War even was. Fortunately, I sat across the aisle from Angela Johnson who was really smart. As I stared at my paper, wondering how I was going to start, let alone complete, this assignment, she was busy writing away. A quick glance told me that she believed that war was bad. Now here's where my memory is particularly sharp all these years later. I thought to myself, "If I write the exact same thing down on my paper, I will be caught cheating. Soooo, I'll write the opposite." Yes, I wrote that war was good. Not that I had any good evidence to back up my thesis, but by golly I wasn't going to get caught stealing from my friend Angela. The sticky part came when my teacher called me up to explain my thinking. How could I possibly explain my thinking and thus confess my crime?! I don't exactly remember what I told Mrs. Netherby. Bad memories have a wonderful way of sometimes becoming very muddy, but somehow I survived my interrogation. Just for the record, I don't really think war is good.
The following year our Girl Scout troop went over to Margot Carr's house to make these new, cool plates. You know the kind, I'm sure. You drew a picture on a piece of paper, and then a few weeks later that beautiful artwork showed up on a plate. What's etched in my memory from this experience was the dilemma I faced in those days when it came to making peace signs. I could never remember which way they went.
As you can see, I didn't exactly get it right. That plate comes out every Christmas, and every year I'm brought back in time, remembering what a confused child I was when it came to war and peace.
I thought it only fitting to bring you a festive drink recipe called, appropriately, Poinsettia (which, as long as we're talking about memories, is a word I can never remember how to spell). This recipe comes from Dale DeGroff, the guru of cocktails. His book, so kindly given to me by my sister, purveyor of all fine things, is often the first source I go to when looking for a new drink. Although his recipes are sometimes stronger than I like, his proportions are just right on this one. The recipe calls for champagne; my adaptation uses Prosecco.
Poinsettia (adapted from Dale DeGroff"s The Craft of the Cocktail
2 ounces cranberry juice
4 ounces Prosecco
1/2 ounce Cointreau
Pour the cranberry juice into a champagne flute and fill with Prosecco. Top with a float of Cointreau. I used R.W. Knudsen cranberry nectar, which is less sweet than Ocean Spray but has more sugar than straight cranberry juice due to the fact that it's not (despite its name) made just from cranberries. If you want a drink that is less sweet, you can use real, unadulterated cranberry juice. In order to float the Cointreau on top, turn a spoon over so that the concave side faces up. Put the spoon just up to the inside rim of the glass (not easy to do with a champagne flute) and slowly pour the Cointreau on top. Unlike some layered drinks, you won't actually really notice the liqueur actually floating on top, so don't worry if your layering techniques are not expertly honed. But if you remember my B-52 recipe from long ago, that's a great one for practicing this technique. Enjoy and Peace on Earth.
The following year our Girl Scout troop went over to Margot Carr's house to make these new, cool plates. You know the kind, I'm sure. You drew a picture on a piece of paper, and then a few weeks later that beautiful artwork showed up on a plate. What's etched in my memory from this experience was the dilemma I faced in those days when it came to making peace signs. I could never remember which way they went.
As you can see, I didn't exactly get it right. That plate comes out every Christmas, and every year I'm brought back in time, remembering what a confused child I was when it came to war and peace.
I thought it only fitting to bring you a festive drink recipe called, appropriately, Poinsettia (which, as long as we're talking about memories, is a word I can never remember how to spell). This recipe comes from Dale DeGroff, the guru of cocktails. His book, so kindly given to me by my sister, purveyor of all fine things, is often the first source I go to when looking for a new drink. Although his recipes are sometimes stronger than I like, his proportions are just right on this one. The recipe calls for champagne; my adaptation uses Prosecco.
Poinsettia (adapted from Dale DeGroff"s The Craft of the Cocktail
4 ounces Prosecco
1/2 ounce Cointreau
Pour the cranberry juice into a champagne flute and fill with Prosecco. Top with a float of Cointreau. I used R.W. Knudsen cranberry nectar, which is less sweet than Ocean Spray but has more sugar than straight cranberry juice due to the fact that it's not (despite its name) made just from cranberries. If you want a drink that is less sweet, you can use real, unadulterated cranberry juice. In order to float the Cointreau on top, turn a spoon over so that the concave side faces up. Put the spoon just up to the inside rim of the glass (not easy to do with a champagne flute) and slowly pour the Cointreau on top. Unlike some layered drinks, you won't actually really notice the liqueur actually floating on top, so don't worry if your layering techniques are not expertly honed. But if you remember my B-52 recipe from long ago, that's a great one for practicing this technique. Enjoy and Peace on Earth.
Jo, I thoroughly enjoy all your posts and am so glad Leigh introduced me to your blog. Merry Christmas to you and your family.
ReplyDeleteP.S. I definitely believe that war is bad!