Joy of Cocktail Time

It is almost 6:00 p.m. Which means it’s time for a cocktail. I’m not a drunk, but I do so look forward to a cocktail at the end of the day.

People say you shouldn’t drink alone. I disagree. My husband, Bill, won’t drink at cocktail hour with me during the week because he wants to be sharp to either (1) practice his guitar; (2) do whatever he needs to do with his UB courses; and/or (3) work some more… you get the idea. So, I’ve learned to drink alone and I’m perfectly ok with it.

My friend, Annie and I like actual cocktails at cocktail hour (as opposed to a glass of wine or beer). When we get together, our preference is gin and tonic – with lots of ice and lots of lime. It’s much better when she makes it ,(and she’ll tell you it’s much better if I make it. Ok, we both liked to be served.)  Recently, she told me about a new drink she’s tried called the Queen’s Cocktail.  Prep time: 1 min. That’s important. If it’s a complicated drink, I’ve lost interest by the third ingredient.  

Ingredients

·        2 ounces Dubonnet

·        1 ounce Gin

·        Lemon Wedge

·        2 Large Cubes of Ice

Since I’m in the middle of Season 4 of The Crown (on Netflix) this week, I thought the timing was perfect.  But, I needed the Dubonnet: Bill to the rescue. He had to run an errand today and, as usual, called me from the road. He does that. Checks in all the time. I don’t need the app that tells me where he is (Find my Friends) because he always let me know. Anyway, I asked if he would stop by the liquor store to pick me up some Dubonnet. I’m not much for shopping and I don’t really care about shopping at liquor stores. I think I was scarred by my childhood experience with the LCBO.

When I was a kid, the prospect of going to the liquor store always baffled me. It was such a transactional experience. In Ontario, the Liquor Control Board (LCBO) doled out the booze. Upon entering, there were rows of desks - think long bistro tables- where a list of available libations were printed behind glass plated frames. The customer would find the liquor on the list, copy down the inventory number(s), the quantity, and the price using a pen that was attached to a string, or beaded cord.

Then you’d take the form up to the man at the counter. Always a man. I never recall a woman working there when I was a kid (I was with my mum or dad – I wasn’t purchasing for crying out loud!). Then the counter guy would retrieve your choice from the back and payment would be made.  

Which made me wonder… if you couldn’t read or write, you couldn’t buy alcohol. Right?

But, I digress. And this blog is keeping me from my new cocktail. I’ll let you know how it was.