Hello, everyone. This
is Connie taking up the mantle to write the Sunday evening cocktail post. With no particular idea in mind or recipe in
hand, I grabbed The Cocktail Hour by Ben Reed, from Ryland Peters and
Small, 2002. Nice little book with great
photographs. It features mostly standard
recipes with only a modicum of exotic ingredients. I opened it, turned a couple of pages and
settled on the Rum Runner. Easy recipe
and, as it turned out, fairly delicious.
Great balance of fruit flavor and not an alcohol bomb.
But that's not the story for today. The story is how we came about having one of
the particular ingredients. Kate has
told you about the annual holiday party that we have hosted for the past eight
years. We invited 1,600 people last year
(full well knowing that most people will never come) and we average, depending
on the weather, around 160. Last year it
was closer to 180, but as I said, it depends on the weather. And they never are all there at once. People come, eat, have a drink or two and
leave. It's a great way to thank all
your friends for their friendship and to celebrate making it to a new year.
Year 6. The party is
in full swing and I am standing in the garage with our friends Mark and
Chris. The bar is set up in the garage
and our bartender, Marti, mans (womans?) the bar for us. As the three of us are talking, a couple
comes in and asks for some wine.
A little background here.
I am terrible with faces and names.
So bad in fact, that I have been known to forget people's names in
meetings when they reported to me when I was in banking. I'd look at someone whose annual review I'd
be writing, and draw a blank. I'd
remember later of course, but wow! So
bad in fact, that I rarely got my children's names correct on the first
attempt. I'd yell David!, Gregory!,
Matthew! When I was looking squarely at Matt.
In my family, we called that the Nana's.
My grandmother did the same thing.
I have no idea how many times I heard Stephen!, Eddie!, Connie! My
uncles' names finally followed my me, the only other person in the room.
Anyway, when the couple went up to Marti and asked for wine,
I turned to Mark and said, “I don't know those people, I don't think they were
invited.” The couple were three feet
from us and when they got their wine, they turned to us and said hi. Mark is quick. He immediately took up from what I said and
returned the greeting and said, “Are you a friend of Kate's?” “No.”
“Then you must know Connie.” Here
I am, playing Mickey the dunce, saying nothing.
“No.” “Well how did you end up
here?” “We live just down the street, we
saw all the cars, so I asked Megan if she wanted to stop. She said no, but I stopped anyway. She wouldn't come in, but I did. I took a look around and it seemed like a
nice, friendly party, so I went back outside and told her it would be
okay. Then we came back in.”
Party crashers! Bless
us and save us! Mark pressed on. “So, what about the hosts, are you going to
say something to them?” “Well, I'd love
to, but I don't know who they are.” I
told you Mark was quick. “Here's one of
them right here”, pointing to me.
Now, I have been known as straight forward, maybe even
blunt. It's an east coast thing. Lots of folks from other parts of the country
tend to be more round about. Not
Bostonians. We find it best, generally,
to set the rules so everyone knows what coming.
Darren, Megan and I introduced ourselves. I then set about making the rules. “Darren, do you know how many people are here
tonight?” “No.” “About 150.” “Do you know how many people it takes to have
the cops come?” “No.” “One!
Now are you that guy? If you are
that guy I want you to leave right now.
If you are not, one more person in this house will make no
difference. We have plenty of food and
drink, and you are welcome. So, are you
that guy?” “No, I am not.” “Then fine, go get something to eat.”
They went off into the house. To be fair, I didn't leave the affair
there. I told three or four friends what
was going on and had my posse tailing them.
I also let Kate know. Later, when
I had determined Darren had had enough to drink, I politely, but firmly, asked
him to leave. In doing so, however, I also told him he had behaved well and if
he would provide me his e-mail address, I would invite him the next year.
So Darren and Megan showed up in year 7 with a lovely bottle
of ice wine. He told me that he never
thought that I would actually send him an invitation, but I did. I may be blunt, but I mean what I say. This past year he showed up with a bottle of
rum, The Kraken. This was totally
uncalled for because: 1) we ask for no gifts (people don't listen), 2) we serve
no liquor, only beer and wine, and 3) this was a little more expensive than
most hostess gifts (certainly more expensive than the well-meaning couple who
showed up with a bottle of Charles Shaw (3 buck Chuck? Are you kidding me? They should have left it in the car, sparing
me the embarrassment of actually having to thank them.).
So there's the story.
The dark rum tonight in the Rum Runner was none other than Darren's The
Kraken. Which, only to add a little
irony to the tale, is my daughter-in-law's name for my grandson. She writes regularly on Facebook about him
and while I am doing my best to prepare him to terrorize the world, he really
doesn't seem to need my help.
Rum Runner
(for one.
Normally we show drinks for two, but since this is a larger than normal
drink, it doesn't fit into the cocktail shaker when made for two. A little patience is involved.)
1 oz white rum (we use Bacardi's)
1 oz dark rum (we use The Kraken)
juice of 1 lime
a dash of sugar syrup (we use 2:1)
6 oz of pineapple juice
shake all of the ingredients in a cocktail shaker for 30
seconds
Strain into a highball glass filled with crushed ice.
Toast the one you love, and enjoy!
