Category Archives: Party! Party!
Mr. Slattern and I have retired to the beautiful Bahamas for a few days of liver straining R&R. I was going to unplug and hold off posting till we returned, but I have made such an exciting discovery, that I cannot wait.
The clever distillers at Ricardo here in the islands produce flavored rums, and with the help of Sammy, Eleuthera’s best bartender, we are working our way through the full range. Watch this space for many exciting potions for your punchbowl. (Don’t worry, we’re writing them down rather than relying on memory, which in these circumstances, can be a bit flukey.)
Oh that sounds like fun, doesn’t it?
Because, I suppose, I am a glutton for punishment, I recently signed up for regular updates from the Martha Stewart death star. These come in the form of emails flogging this or that new
moneymaking scheme product or the latest edition of her magazine. Obviously I don’t subscribe, but I have been known to pick up an issue of MS Living occasionally, say in the dentist’s office while cooling my heels until the Novocaine and gas take effect. I would flip through it in the checkout line at the grocery store, but Fairway doesn’t sell magazines — reason number 217 to love hate them.
The latest missive touts an app for making cocktails especially for girls’ night. Wow, I’ll bet Martha frequently invites a bunch of her besties over on a Friday night and really lets her freak flag fly. Can you imagine? Bong hits, Aretha records, Courtney Love impersonations, midnight tattooing excursions and of course, crazy new cocktails like the Roget Colada (a pina colada with a generous bump of cheap champagne — thanks, Karen!) or the Dublin Goes South version of Fat Ass in a Glass (Kahlua, Bailey’s Irish Cream and tequila — the loser of the chugging contest eats the worm!).
Oh right, sorry, that was MY girls’ night.
At Martha’s they probably get all crazy and crochet with gloves on (to make it extra challenging) or add racy captions to their scrapbooking projects (“Is that Bill the beach bum or Bill’s beach bum?!?!? Haha!”) or sit around in their flannel nighties without their Spanx, all the while sipping perfectly blended Cosmopolitans (two if that crazy moon is full) from tasteful vintage stemware while nibbling chocolate covered wasabi soya nuts (Golly that’s spicy!). Pure Martha madness I am sure.
I see that the app also includes a special bonus, recipes for “perfectly paired bar snacks,” for the hostess with the mostess. Wow, how much fun would it be to slave away in the kitchen creating beautiful trays of savory snacks so that your drunken gal pals could snarf them up while boozing it up WITHOUT YOU because you’re busy dipping strawberries, baking goat cheese and carmelized onion mini tarts, and filling deviled eggs from a fucking pastry bag? I’ll tell you how much fun it would be: NONE, less than none. It would be a fun black hole, that’s what. In fact, it would suck all the fun out of you and every member of your family for the rest of your natural lives.
Now, it’s not that I don’t love collapsing in an exhausted, sobbing heap on my kitchen floor, stone cold sober, while my buddies dance the night away, fueled by the constant stream of snacks that made it possible to rave until the wee hours, but I do on occasion tire of enjoying myself so very much.
So, listen up, Martha! The whole point of girls’ night is to get a load on and eat greasy takeout food followed by a whole cake, which you then attempt to dance off while playing “Baby Got Back” on an endless loop. There SHOULD be vomiting, and if there isn’t, you’re not trying hard enough.
And finally people, if you need an app to make a cocktail, you should seriously re-assess your life. So anyways…
Recipe: Nigella’s Chocolate Cherry Cupcakes
So today my shining light of a daughter turns 18, which makes me 97, or maybe it just feels that way. Anyhow, with such an auspicious occasion to mark, I wanted to find an appropriate treat to cap the festive birthday dinner — traditionally the birthday girl’s choice, and as always she’s requested mac and cheese with grilled asparagus on the side.
I found this delightfully easy recipe for chocolate cherry cupcakes in Nigella’s Domestic Goddess book, and was congratulating myself on coming up with the perfect marriage of the adult (sour cherries, dark chocolate) and the childish (cupcakes) in an incredibly simple recipe (bonus!), when I noticed that it called for self-rising cake flour. Now, this item struck me as just a tad exotic to have on hand, but lo and behold after a bit of frantic rummaging I did find some in the dark recesses of the pantry. It is, to say the least, unusual to find exactly what I need on any given day; however, given my customary frame of mind during a trip to Fairway, it is not surprising that I have in stock things I can’t recall ever buying.
Now, I’m not entirely sure what getting tagged is, but then again I don’t really know what Twittering is either, and that doesn’t stop me from doing it. So here, to the best of my Sazerac-compromised ability, is my attempt at answering the tag.
Here are the rules:
1. Post the rules.
2. Answer the questions the tagger set for you.
3. Create eleven new questions to ask the people you’ve tagged.
4. Tag eleven people and link to them on your post.
5. Let them know you’ve tagged them!
Susan’s eleven questions:
1. What’s a topic you’d never touch in your blog?
Cannibalism. I’d have absolutely no idea how to roast a human loin. Hell, I struggle with a pork chop and there are directions for that.
2. Which word do you hate and why?
Slice. The sound of it makes my toes curl and my back arch. And not in a good way.
3. If you had to give up blogging, because of time constraints – or some other kind of pressure – what would you do as a substitute?
Duh. Begin happy hour before lunch.
4. What’s a frivolous holiday, in your opinion?
Let’s see, a day with no work, feasting and special drinks? They’re all busman’s holidays to me when you get right down to it.
5. Write a caption for the above picture.
I said no more FUCKING formula.