Thursday, April 23, 2009


We take cocktails pretty seriously at Casa Petroni.  Back when we were just friends, and later when we were dating, David would make me delicious Cosmopolitans whenever I came over to watch Sex and the City.  His Cosmos even came complete with pyrotechnics-- just before serving, he'd slice off a disc of orange peel, light a match, and squeeze the zest side of the peel toward the match, over the drink.  The orange oil would cause the match to spark up, and it would give the drink a nice extra flavor.  We like to joke that David wooed me with cocktails.

He introduced me to the Tom Collins, a delightfully refreshing, summery drink that you pretty much have to make at home these days.  A good one requires fresh lemon juice (along with sugar, gin, and club soda), but order one at most bars and they'll skip the fresh lemon juice and instead use that most horrid of mixers-- sour mix.  

He makes a great mojito.  He makes a ridiculous margarita.  (Arwen can vouch for this one.  See, as evidence, our drunkish post from one of her visits last year.)  He likes to make things like Old Fashioneds for himself, though I don't drink bourbon so I can't tell you whether that one's any good.  

So, although I am perfectly pleased to give up all manner of alcohol for the sake of my wee in-utero babe, and indeed would happily give it up forever if it meant more children would come our way, I do miss having a cocktail now and then.  I feel extraordinarily weird going out to dinner and not ordering a drinkety drink or a glass of wine.  A few restaurants have been very accommodating in mixing me something non-alcoholic.  (Special props to Tallula in Arlington, which can make a non-alcoholic version of every drink on its specialty cocktail menu, to Wildfire at Tysons Galleria, where the bartender improvised some fruity and lovely concoction for me, and to Austin Grill, which has a strawberry limeade on the menu that is so good I almost don't miss the alcohol.)  Others have been unhelpful, even bordering on condescending.  (Big eye roll to Bistro Bis, where the snooty waiter-- who claimed he's also a bartender-- looked at me like I was nuts when I asked them to mix something sans liquor, and said he didn't know of a single thing he could serve me.  HINT:  Good bartenders are also creative.  Give yours the opportunity to think something up.)

Imagine my delight, then, when I saw an invitation today for a book-signing party this weekend for a book called Preggatinis-- a party complete with mocktails and light hors d'ouevres.  I've RSVP'd for us, and I'm crossing my fingers that there will be room for us to attend.  I'd love to get some fun back in my drinks, and I'm confident David can mix up any recipe in the book.  

Chic mocktails.  Who knew?  And just in time for my gestational enjoyment.

1 comment:

Brooke said...

what a great idea - preggatinis - i love it.

i know that eye roll all too well! so rude. i still want david to make us those mojitos and enjoy an evening out on the patio.