Sidecar

As it turns out, a Sidecar is really quite fantastic.  No really, I could probably drink it all day but for the fear of ending 'tits-up' before noon, as one's husband would say.  And I am really quite relieved, because I was beginning to assume that it was one of those drinks that is easy to romanticize -- but not actually all that easy to drink, if you know what I mean.  Sidecars create all sorts of atmosphere in my mind because they sound/are so 1920s flapper-ish.

We had them yesterday after Michael spent the day (yet another day) sanding and sanding the ceiling in the living room.  And then priming (...and then sanding ... and then priming) until I declared I would surely leave him forever if he didn't knock it off already.  Seriously, there comes a time when one should simply say, 'Let's leave well enough alone!'  The ceiling looks marvelous, though, and it is such a liberating feeling to be officially popcorn-less.  To wit, the house looks decidedly less 1970s now, which is always a bonus in my mind.**   

Anyway, a gorgeously smooth ceiling aside (which was a labor-intensive couple of months in the doing, I'll have you know), isn't it grand to have a husband who will gladly drop his sandpaper and trowel in order to make a nice drink because it strikes his wife's fancy? 

The recipe is as follows, and while it does not call for ice, I find it simply spiffing to add it.

** Now then, what else shall we do before we slap a For Sale sign in front of this jalopy?

Sidecar
(Makes one drink of deliciousness)

1 ounce brandy
1 ounce Cointreau
3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
Flamed orange peel, for garnish

Shake all ingredients with ice and strain into an iced old-fashioned glass.  Garnish with flamed orange peel.  (Recipe from: The Craft of the Cocktail, by Dale Degroff.  2002, Clarkson N. Potter Publishers.)