A Kamikaze for Valerie

Adapted from Recipe for One True Margarita from Ceres & Bacchus

It's been a very sad week for me. Yesterday on a glorious sunny spring day with every flowering tree and shrub in bloom - weeping cherry, forsythia, crab apple, magnolia - I had to go to a peaceful spot of earth and stand with a huge gathering of family and friends, each one of us in shock, to attend the funeral of my cousin Valerie, who only found out she was desperately sick six weeks before.

I would like to describe Valerie to you; to give you a little glimpse into who she was, but everyone who knows Valerie would agree she defies description. Family stories about Valerie are legend. At how many funerals would you see an old boyfriend, an ex-husband, and a fiance talking to each other and mourning together?

Valerie didn't find a cure for the common cold; she didn't eliminate world hunger; she didn't even get the Dalai Lama back into Tibet. But she did raise a beautiful daughter; she did create amazing art; she never stopped making everyone laugh (yes, I will admit, sometimes at our expense). Valerie lived life larger than anyone I've ever known, and at the end she showed the strength of Thor, the courage of David, and the grace of Saint Therese of Lisieux, who when she was very sick and dying remained smiling and cheerful.

So Valerie, there are loads of us who love you, who will never forget you, and who will miss you for the rest of our days. "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." * Rock on, cuz.

Valerie's favorite drink is a Kamikaze. In fact she introduced me to this (sometimes) lethal concoction. Most recipes for a Kamikaze call for equal parts vodka, equal parts triple sec, and equal parts lime juice. Some specify Rose's Lime Juice and some specify fresh. But my kamikazes are essentially my margaritas with vodka in place of tequila, served straight up in a martini glass with (I would think, obviously) no salt around the rim. Here's to you, Val.

½ lime
2 shots vodka
1 shot triple sec (I prefer Bols)
Ice

Slice one wedge from the lime half and reserve. Place vodka and triple sec in a stainless steel drink shaker along with the juice of the rest of the lime half and some ice cubes. Shake well until the shaker is frosted then pour into a martini glass. Serve straight up. Repeat as necessary.

Print recipe.

*Albus Dumbledore to Harry Potter, Sorcerer's Stone

I Love Paris

Well, I haven't written a single post since February seventh. Since that time, I spent ten days in Paris with Marsha and Jane. Before the trip, when I was working like crazy to be able to get away, I thought ten days would seem like an eternity. Little did I know it would fly - just fly - by, and now with each passing day, I hanker just a little bit more to go back to that beautiful gray lady of a city.

We stayed in an elegant apartment, with a lovely kitchen, on Rue du Cherche Midi, in the same block as Poilane so we had glorious toast every morning and wonderful bread to top with the amazing cheeses - all raw milk and unavailable here - that we ate every night while drinking copious amounts of Sancerre. We cooked our own dinner on four of the ten nights because we found good food to buy and cook in our neighborhood and got a rotisserie chicken from the Sunday outdoor organic market on Rue Raspail.

There's too much to tell - the wonderful museums; the young American who proposed to his girlfriend in front of a Monet and caught the rapt attention of everyone in the gallery and bowed when we all clapped after she said yes; the Berthillon ice cream I finally got my hands on; the tour Mike gave us of his fifteenth century restored home in the Marais, etc., etc., etc.

The other great thing that happened is that my friend Mandi, who lives in Melbourne, Australia, arrived on Easter Sunday for a ten-day "holimoon" in New York.  A holimoon is a holiday you take with your 6-year-old daughter, Reagan, AND Scott, your husband of 23 days.

We waited and waited for that ten days and then, in the blink of an eye, it was over. They ice skated at Wollman, went to the American Girl Place, spent an evening at McSorley's hosted by Geoffrey, and went to the farm for the weekend where we had a great dinner at Margaret and Tom's on Saturday night and tobogganed down Walter's field on Sunday morning.  When it was all over, Mandi left me enough licorice to last a normal person six months. (I won't tell you how long it lasted me.)


And now today, at long last, is ice cream day! The sky is (sigh) September eleventh blue, the temperature is in the high sixties, and everyone who is outside is strolling around with a smile on his or her face and an ice cream cone in his or her hand.

I
Welcome, spring. I hope you stick around a while.