The December Cocktail

(Listening to "The Color of Right" from Test for Echo, by Rush)

I whipped this up for Lindz and myself after a day of her being very productive and of me being much less so. She painted the upstairs (almost the entire upper storey), and I raked a couple of leaves, oiled a squeaky storm door and bloodied my thumb somehow.

It is built on standard cocktail methodology, but it has a magical ingredient that wouldn't be sitting around the house any other time of year. Lindz made candied orange peels, and the sugar syrup that was left is packed with flavor. The oranges were cara-cara oranges, rich in that spritzy orange zest goodness. My favorite cocktails (especially the whiskey sour) involve the use of simple syrup, but it was clear that this orange syrup would add more to a drink than just sweetness.

I figured "December Cocktail" would be a fairly civilized name that wouldn't be out of place in the Savoy Cocktail Book. More respectable than "Winter Bitch-Slap" or "Aberdeen Reacharound."

2 ounces gin (I used Amsterdam)
3/4 ounce sweet Italian Vermouth
1/2 ounce lemon juice
1/2 ounce orange peel infused sugar syrup

Add the ingredients to a cocktail shaker full of ice cubes. Shake the hell out of it, and strain the drink into a red or green cocktail glass. Put a few ice cubes in there and garnish with a candied orange peel. Enjoy. Repeat as necessary.

If you use bourbon instead of gin, it is a delicious but different cocktail. A bit darker in character. I would call that one a "Manhattan in December."

No More Grandparents

(Listening to Henryk Gorecki's Symphony #3, Op. 36, "Symphony of Sorrowful Songs")
This is a glass of single malt whisky, the most contemplative of drinks. It stands in front of a slice of apricot tree. The man in whose yard that tree stood until 31-odd years ago just passed away this evening. I grew to appreciate the qualities of this sort of whisky when Dad passed away in 1993.

The stark reality that all the grandparents have gone is now standing on top of me with stunning weight. Why does Time have to keep moving? Can't nostalgic, deedless fools like me have a few more decades to figure out what life is all about?

More Adventures of Guardian Service

 

We drank a bottle of Lone Oak Vineyards Vin du Roi with dinner. I boiled the potatoes in Grandma's Guardian pot, then put them on the grill for a bit of smoky flavor. The main course was marinated grilled chicken thighs, and the veggie was a foil packet o' vegetables, also done on the grill.

The Pot Awakens

This is a piece of Guardian Service cookware. This stuff was manufactured from the 30's to 1956. We believe Grandma and Grandpa Zucker got the set for their wedding in 1939. It has been used to cook what amounts to, I am sure, a staggering amount of food over the decades. And now it's mine. It probably hasn't been used for a number of years; Grandma was doing poorly for a little while before she passed on.

 

I boiled fingerling potatoes in it tonight. I tossed the potatoes in olive oil, rosemary and garlic and served them along with broiled scallops with lime butter and grilled asparagus with reduced balsamic goo and pecans. Lindz's home made ice cream was dessert. I hope Grandma would be pleased.

A Seal Having His Teeth Brushed

Diving Bird, Glass Dude

Lindz caught this shot of a Puffin at feeding time at the Seattle Aquarium:

And I shot this in the Hot Shop of the Museum of Glass in Tacoma:

Life's Rich Pageant

 

So much stuff packed into so few blocks. I believe we took this picture as we were walking down the hill to go to dinner at The Pink Door, a marvelous restaurant in Post Alley. We had some off-the-menu seasonal things: risotto with fava beans, mint and goat cheese and some unbelievably delicious bacon-wrapped monkfish on a bed of braised artichokes. The pear tart was a very fine dessert, and I had some very good Oregon grappa while we watched the famous burlesque show that begins at 11 pm. We arrived at 8 to assure ourselves a spot.

As far as Seattle goes, I'd say we did a halfway respectable job of scratching the surface. 'Tis quite a town.

Pile o' Cheeks

 

It was a cruel irony that I was surrounded seafood in such profusion while setting a personal record for being the most miles from my kitchen. I imagine these cheeks would have been good prepared thusly: Pan-seared with a little dollop of chardonnay jelly, next to some asparagus risotto.

Smile

 

A monkfish at the fish market in Seattle. We got there early; they weren't throwing fish yet.

The Museum of Glass in Tacoma

 

This tunnel of spectacular glass works is on the way into the Museum of Glass.