If you can’t judge a book by its cover (though I do), can you judge it by its title? Well, perhaps judge is not the right way to phrase it. Let’s say: be heavily influenced by, especially when browsing. Yes, yes you can. Just like the first line of a novel, a title sets a mood, like a dress code on an invitation. Names are no different.
In computer programming lore, naming things is hard. I won’t tell you it isn’t, but from a purely inventive perspective, it’s one of my favorite things to do - come up with names for things, whether animate or inanimate. I admit it: I am a person who names my cars. The only one I didn’t name, kept getting hit by other vehicles, and I eventually sold it. And when it was gone, I didn’t miss it. After all, I didn’t even know what to call it.
I adore nicknames. I have been bestowed with many and doled out even more to my friends. Most people have nicknames and those who don’t, well…next time you are at a party (because we can have those again), talking to someone you don’t know that well, ask that person, “What are your nicknames?” If they answer that they don’t have any, walk away. Trust me, this is not an interesting person, whether they are lying to you or not.
Names - whether of people or places - have their own story to tell. Some are heavier than others. Names go in and out of fashion. Some names live on the cusp of neither in nor out of fashion for centuries. A person’s name given to them at birth would seem to be a stamp on the letter of their singular journey, setting them on their way, but then suddenly, it isn’t, because people change their names. For many reasons. And why not?
When I started this publication, I thought a lot about what to call it. I could have chosen the obvious: Angela Cummings, but it turns out there are lot of us out there, and some of them, much more famous than me. Recently, I was asked, “You make jewelry, right?” No, but I do have one of her watches, as well as a bracelet (the matching ring I lost somewhere in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico.)
I chose the phrase, “stirred, not shaken” for this publication as it very accurately describes two facets of my current disposition:
The way I prefer my martinis crafted, and
My emotional barometer reading on the state of the world
— not necessarily in that order.
The Champagne Trail
Unfortunately, we are not making sparkling wine out there on the back 40. I did build a trail though, and even though it's only ~.5 mile long, it makes the most of its distance: ascending, weaving, and descending through a healthy slice of second-growth forest. The route was not pre-planned and I used no navigational tools while constructing it. The first few feet of the trail were born one October afternoon (after a particularly exasperating Zoom meeting) by pruning an opening through two sword ferns, standing between them and asking myself, "What looks interesting up ahead and how do I get there?" I cut and sawed my way around for another four hours until finally the sun set and I could barely see anything. I couldn’t wait to get out there the next day.
Out on the trail the only thing I carried other than my pruner and hacksaw was a single rule: to not kill any living trees. I broke the rule but once. As a matter of principle, I did not take my phone with me on the trail, though I did agree to carry a walkie-talkie in order to avoid a marital incident. (BTW, wandering aimlessly in the woods with nothing more technically advanced than a walkie-talkie is one of the very best cures for Adult Onset Crushed Soul Syndrome.)
On the afternoon of my second outing, I had forged something resembling a path. Excited by my progress, I reached for the walkie-talkie:
“Hello, Hello?”
Nothing.
“Hello, Hello??”
—“Hello, sorry I was—”
“Are you free for lunch?”
—”Yes, where are you?”
”In the woods. You won’t believe what I did out here! Are you hungry?”
—“Yes. How do I find you?”
And then I said something like, “Go out the dining room door, and walk down the hill. On the right, there’s that clearing where the nettles are that goes back toward the road. Turn there, then look left and you’ll see a pile of rocks next to a fern where the path starts. Just walk in, and it should be clear from there…”
(Somehow he found me, and later we named various sections of the property so we could avoid descriptions like the above. Place names are critical to avoiding awkward exchanges like the one above…)
My beloved knows me well. He could have just brought the cheese and salami, but he went the extra distance, carefully packing and escorting a bottle of champagne to the new endpoint on my recently blazed trail. We opened the bubbly, and marked the moment by securing the cage and metal cap onto a huckleberry limb. For several months after, whenever we opened a bottle of bubbles (on or off trail), I saved the cage, and placed it somewhere along the trail. It’s like breadcrumbs, only much more festive.
Czech 77
As promised last week, I’m sharing a cocktail recipe I affectionately named the Czech 77. When I’m not in the mood for a martini, I tend to favor the French 75, though I find that many bartenders make them too sweet for my taste. At home, simple syrup is easy enough to make, but even good quality sugar has an aftertaste that I don’t care for in my cocktails. Recently I’ve taken to replacing the simple syrup portion in a traditional French 75 with a mixture of honey and orange juice. Below are the proportions I usually make - give it a try and let me know if this works for you, or if you have tried something else you like even better.
Ingredients
.5 oz orange juice + honey mixture
1 oz fresh squeezed lemon juice
1.5 oz gin1
3 oz Champagne (or Cremant, Blanc de Blancs, or Cava) — when you’re putting it in a cocktail like this it doesn’t have to be Ruinart, and probably shouldn’t be.
To make
Add equal parts2 honey and orange juice in a sauce pan. Heat just enough for the honey to liquify, then set aside to cool.
Fill a cocktail shaker halfway with ice. Add the lemon juice, then the honey & orange juice mixture, then the gin. Shake until thoroughly mixed. Pour into a champagne glass, then top off with the champagne. If you have time and are skilled, make one of those lemon peel things that looks like a slinky and put it in the glass. (I never have the patience to do this, and skip this step.)
Enjoy.
In another news, a second pair of barn swallows built their nest on our house last week. For now, I will ignore the additional trail of poop collecting on the side of the house. But only because I admire their charming parental choreography where one flies in to the nest to feed the chicks, stays there until its mate arrives with more food, then swiftly flies back out to get more while the chicks are fed by the other. Repeat.
That’s partnership.
The world of craft gins has exploded, and there are doubtless many great varieties I have not tried. Of the ones I have, my favorites for the Czech 77 include: Botanist, Astraea, and if you can get your hands on it, or live anywhere near St. Andrews, Scotland, Eden Mill Gin.
To make one cocktail for two people, use 1 Tablespoon honey + 1 Tablespoon orange juice which works out to ~ 1 oz of the Czech Simple syrup.