I thought, “Why not try to make my own martinis?”
How Draper of me. How 1950s Catholic. What’s one need, anyhow? Some olives: check. Some vodka: check. Some vermouth: check. Ice and whatnot, sure. Some years back, I don’t even recall the occasion, we were given a cocktail mixing set. I think it was the “thing” at the time, a little metal bar set with tongs and strainer and whatnot. When I pulled it down from the back of the top shelf this morning it still had tape on it, just like the day we pulled it from the box. I gave the thing a thorough cleaning and double-rinse in preparation for its inauguration.
And a few jiggers later I was sitting in the garage listening to Neil Young with a buddy from South Africa (I needed a martini-experiment guinea pig). It was hot today so the garage wasn’t all that comfortable, and there were flies in there (I have this theory that they’re attracted to smoke, the barbecue and pipe seem to draw them in). I have a thing for fresh air (says the guy who just wrote about flies and smoke), so sitting in a camp chair in the garage where it’s shady is an upgrade to sitting inside (and not being able to smoke a pipe, too, I suppose).
The drinks came out OK. Too much vermouth. Would’ve made another to hone the mix but didn’t need another.
‘Night.
Also written on this day...
- birds chirping - 2023
- doin' what i want - 2007
- officially good - 2006