As this is summer, I am wondering what you all are enjoying in the evenings? I like a glass of wine* or two, but every now and then, I like a cocktail too.
The other night, my husband and I enjoyed a Lemon Martini (on the left) and a Rob Roy (on the right).
Some of you have asked how we make our Lemon Martinis? (By we, I mean my husband. Who are kidding? I don’t make the drinks around here. I just drink ’em.) My husband pours equal parts freshly squeezed lemon, dry vermouth, and vodka into a shaker with ice. Then he shakes it violently and pours it into my martini glass.
So of course, it isn’t a true martini, as it has no gin.
And what’s around that rim? It’s sugar. He does this by wetting the rim with the lemon wedge and then tipping the glass upside down onto a plate of sugar. It’s worth the extra minute of two waiting.
The second drink, my husband’s drink, is a Rob Roy. This is two parts Scotch, one part dry vermouth, and two dashes of Angostura bitters. Rob Roys can also be made with sweet vermouth or even with equal parts of both, but my husband prefers dry.
This is also poured into a shaker with ice and shaken. Then it’s poured into a martini glass and enjoyed.
When making cocktails, it’s helpful to have a cocktail shaker and something to measure shots with. A simple shot glass will do, or if you have a nifty tool like the one above, you’re good to go. You’ll notice that on this tool, on the left, is a little measuring cup while on the right are other useful things – most notably the extended stick used as a juicer. This juicer gets a lot of use in our house for drinks requiring lemons or limes.
What are you all drinking this summer? Drop a line in the comment box!
*One of my favorite scripture verses involve wine. The following one comes from Psalm 104:14-15.
“You cause the grass to grow for the cattle, and plants for man to cultivate, that he may bring forth food from the earth, and wine to gladden the heart of man, oil to make his face shine, and bread to strengthen man’s heart.”
Notice that? Wine to gladden the hearts of men and bread to strengthen us. Two of the best things ever. God is good!
How did your week go? Here are a few highlights from mine:
At the Easter Vigil, the lady sitting behind my husband was genuinely concerned that the toddler might start something on fire. Like my husband. So she kindly tapped him on the shoulder and offered to hold his candle, but of course he could not give up the candle because then the toddler would scream. Candles are so much fun at Mass!
Anybody have problems keeping toddlers in Time Out?
My toddler was supposed to be sitting in the Time Out Chair, but if nobody’s watching her, of course she’s going to get out. Here’s where I found her this morning:
No, this is not her crib. No, those are not her pacifiers. But she thought it would be really fun to climb into her baby sister’s crib and pretend to be the baby.
3. Why say something in 3 words when you candy it in thirty? This is the motto of my fifth child, a girl of course. “Mom, she pulled my hair. And it really hurt, and I told her that. She grabbed my hair like this, see? Then pulled it really hard, like this. Then I cried, and told her to stop it, but she just laughed and kept right on pulling. Mom, I really don’t see why she gets away with this sort of behavior all the time…” Blah, blah, blah.
4. My parents visited us for a few days. My dad is a great story teller. This time it was all about guns and rodents. He grew up on a farm with 7 brothers and sisters, and for awhile they had chickens, like a lot of chickens. Seriously, 12,000 of them. Now being the youngest, it was his job to pick eggs with his brother. Of course they had egg fights, but the real fun was shooting the rats with a BB gun. There was never a shortage. And then for more fun, they’d go find the bull and shoot him in the behind, just to watch him tear around a bit. Then when they were sick of that, they’d shoot pigeons. But never, never did they shoot any robins. For they were always sternly warned by their mother, “If I ever, ever catch you boys shooting any robins, I’m gonna take your guns, I’m gonna give your guns to your father, and he’s gonna run ’em over with the 806!” (An 806 is a tractor, by the way.)
My dad’s mother is the same woman who wore lipstick every day of her life. For good measure, here she is:
5. Drink of the week: Lemon Martini. I know, I know…it’s not a real martini because it’s made with vodka instead of gin. But let me tell you, it’s great.
Here we are, back to “A Day in the Life of Crazy Fool: Part 6.” If you missed the earlier parts to this series and would like to read them, look at my sidebar under Tags, and click on “A Day in the Life Series.”
It’s Around 4pm
As the afternoon closes, I’m generally cooking dinner and finishing things up. My husband arrives home around 5pm, and I like the house to be ready for him. I once read somewhere – I think in a Kimberly Hahn book – that if a wife truly loves her husband as Christ, the least thing she could do, would be to greet him when he comes home, at the door. In other words, one must walk over to the door and actually greet him, as you would Christ.
And Now For a Little Harangue
I’ll pause here for a moment. When I read that a few years ago, I was absolutely struck and convicted. For I had been in the habit of not acknowledging my husband – of just continuing whatever I was doing, as if he didn’t matter.
Well, he does matter. I married him after all, and he ought to come before the children and the household chores and all the rest. I can put down the cooking spoon or the baby and walk over to the door, even if I don’t happen to like him at the moment because he was ten minutes late. So what? He is the head of our household, and sometimes, it’s just not about my feelings.
And it’s not always perfect either. Our home is not some Norman Rockwell painting. Yes, babies are sometimes crying and boys are wrestling and girls are whining. Whatever. My husband still ought to come first, and I ought to greet him.
Sometimes this moment can be really fun, by the way. Sometimes I like to surprise him with a martini in hand. I can tell you, when I do something special like that, our evenings are always more fun. For life is worth living, as the Venerable Fulton Sheen reminds us.
So, any of you wives out there, if you don’t already, I want to strongly encourage you to greet your husbands when they arrive home. (Or, if you happen to be a stay-at-home husband, greet your wife when she comes home.)
5:15pm: Dinner Time
After I’ve greeted my husband, we sit down for dinner together as a family. Fortunately, our schedule allows for this to happen almost every single night. If it’s at all possible, I encourage all of you to do the same. No technology allowed at the table, either.
We also prefer to eat dinner a little more formally than the other meals. For example, the children attempt to set the table set properly. You know, with forks on top of a cloth napkin on the left and spoons and knives on the right, etc. And no, this is not always done well, depending on which child is setting… We do have six messy children under the age of 12. But I’ve noticed that manners improve when form improves.
Also, if there is a salad to be served, I generally have that on the plates prior to the Table Prayer, so that we’re not passing around multiple dishes. After the Table Prayer, we sit down and eat the said salad. When everyone is finished with the salad, my husband commences dishing out the main entree. Again, we have the same format, when everyone is finished, and if there happens to be something for dessert, it will be served then, and we enjoy it together. The point is, we attempt to take our time.
By the way, we also strive to uphold two other rules:
No talking with your mouth full. (I’m especially bad at this one.)
No using your fingers. Ever. Learn to use your knife to get that food on your fork. (Unless it’s pizza or some other finger food being served.)
Lest this sounds too idyllic, let me remind you, that generally I have a baby or a toddler (or both) crying or throwing food or creating whatever mayhem they might. Well, I’ve just made up my mind not to be deterred. Table manners are worthwhile attempting.