Thursday, June 26, 2008

Bar Talk

The great thing about living in a house instead of a Westy is all the room. All the room divided into rooms. A house full of rooms.

It’s all very civilized.

One of the coolest little rooms in our new house is the sunporch. It’s in the back, on the eastern side of the house, and gets saturated with morning sun.



(Well, not THIS morning; there IS no sun).

Like the front porch, the floor tilts downward, from the house to the lawn. I think it was enclosed later in its life – it probably started off as an open porch, tilted down so the rain could drain off.

It’s weird and wacky walking out there, on that slanted floor. It messes with your balance, and you never quite have a hold on your equilibrium.

Which makes it, naturally, the perfect place for the bar.

We had boxes and boxes of bottles of booze (boxes of bottles of booze: sounds like a Dr. Seuss title) stored in Bill’s Mumsie’s basement the last 7-½ years. I don’t know where it all came from. I know we inherited some from Himself – our landlord-turned-tenant – when he died, back in our house in Fairfield. The rest just got accumulated along the way.

And we also have lots of cool, bright, colorful stuff from the Caribbean and Mexico, also waiting patiently all those years to see the sun again.



We threw it all together, and it seems to work. Like inventing a new drink. “Mix rum with Caribbean bus, pour over ice.” “Pour tequila (or mescal or sotol) over Mexico fishies, shake.”

Speaking of which, and because I am utterly brain dead after all the festivities last night, celebrating our friends’ 10-year-anniversary owning and running the Tavern (Thanks P&M! What a blast!), I leave you with Bar Talk much more clever, witty and sensible than anything I can come up with. It’s a column from yesterday’s New York Times’ food section, by Mark Bittman, who approaches the mixing of cocktails as he does making a pasta dish. Really.
.

And now I’m going back to bed.

12 comments:

Jacquie said...

Love it, and I can't wait to put a dent in those 10 year old bottles next month!

Ellie, the story of himself's demise simply must be told. I know just the venue...

Ellie said...

Ha! I was thinking the same thing. Later this summer....

And sorry, but you'll see there is NO potato vodka on those shelves. We drank the bottle we inadvertently (really!) stole from you. We're going to buy us some vodka from Austin, though. It's on our list...

Beth said...

Great post, El. My favorite line is definitely, “Mix rum with Caribbean bus, pour over ice.” I love it.

I also love the bar and see that you've (also) put quite a dent in the dildo-shaped bottle of tequila form Nogales.

Ellie said...

I thought you'd like that! We keep buying big half-gallons of cheap tequila, so we can hold onto the last of that "Hijos de Villa" (as in Sons of Pancho Villa). Actually, I sit on my deck and my friend Sweet Jennie delivers big half-gallons of cheap tequila. You gotta love my hood....

Musings from Myopia, AKA John said...

I respectfully request permission to move into your 'hood, preferably into your house. I want to sit on your porch. And I'll adapt the Mark Bittman Method (MBM) to making drinks; but my "starting point" will be my "perfect margarita," which I am willing to bastardize with cheap tequila if you wish.

GJG said...

---and there you have it sports fans, the big difference between the EAST coast and the WEST---there they collect bottles--HERE we collect empties (and recycle like mad)

Chris said...

Mike and I want to come and sit on your porch - when can we come visit? However, Mike just got a bottle of Patron for his recent 40-something birthday - so could we get dizzy on your porch with that instead? Mike is a tequila snob...

Chris said...

Oh - by the way - your comment about "there is no sun" - this is New England, baby - get used to it. Severe depression only sets in about February 1.

Ellie said...

Well hello peeps.

First of all, Mr. AKA, I do NOT wish for cheap tequila. It's just what I buy because I'm broke. And cheap. When you come move into my house, I will accept your perfect margaritas however it is you make them... perfect.

Mr. Gig, we're mad recyclers here, too, but first we must EMPTY those bottles, before we can recycle them. Our friend Mark and Mistah Schleckah put a hurt on that bottle of Sambuca last night, so that may be the first to make it into the blue recycling bucket...

And Chrissie, get down here! Soon! Bring that Patron (I love a tequila snob who shares.....). And thanks for your encouraging words about the weather......

KathyR said...

What do you call a sun porch when there is no sun?

Ellie said...

A bar.

mumple said...

LOL about your floor! My entire house was apparently built without using a level--I mean, really. Where's the fun in that.

Thanks for stopping by my blog and clueing me into yours. What a hoot!