By Mid-December, and the cookbook revisions are consuming every morning at the desk — the cutting and the shaping and the polishing that Catherine's notes require, the making of a manuscript into a book, the transformation that is both surgical and artistic, the editing that takes what is good and makes it true. The good and the true are not the same thing. The good is pleasant. The true is necessary. And the book needs to be true, because Mama deserves truth, not pleasantness.
James is finishing his first semester of second year at USC Law. He is thriving in the particular way that law students thrive: exhausted, sharp, certain of their purpose, uncertain of everything else. He mentioned Elise eight times on Sunday's call. Eight. The number has exceeded the threshold of casual. The number is a declaration.
Carrie is finishing her first semester of teaching in Fukuoka. She has fallen in love with Japan the way people fall in love with countries: completely, specifically, with the food and the language and the daily life and the particular quality of the light and the way the students bow when they enter the classroom and the bowing is respect made physical and the physical respect changes the room.
I visited Joy on Saturday. She was painting a self-portrait — or what Joy calls a self-portrait, which is a circle with purple hair and a smile so wide it extends beyond the face and onto the background, because Joy's smile is too large for any face, including her own, and the largeness is the truth, and the truth is in the painting.
I made Mama's eggnog — the too-strong Christmas drink, bourbon and cream and nutmeg and the philosophy that Christmas is not the season for restraint. The eggnog was for Robert and me, because Mama can no longer drink alcohol and the not-drinking is one more thing on the list I do not write, and the list gets longer, and the woman gets lighter, and the lighter and the longer are the same direction.
After stirring Mama’s eggnog for Robert and me — the too-strong one, the one that insists Christmas is not the season for restraint — I found myself craving something lighter but no less unapologetic. This Classic Aperol Spritz is that kind of drink: bright, bitter at the edges, celebratory in a way that doesn’t ask permission. It’s what I’ll be sipping while the revisions rest and the evening stretches out, holding all eight mentions of Elise and Joy’s too-wide smile and Carrie’s bowing students in the same glass.
Classic Aperol Spritz
Prep Time: 2 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 2 minutes | Servings: 1
Ingredients
- 3 oz prosecco, chilled
- 2 oz Aperol
- 1 oz club soda or sparkling water
- Ice
- 1 orange slice, for garnish
Instructions
- Fill your glass. Add plenty of ice to a large wine glass or stemless goblet.
- Pour the prosecco. Add the chilled prosecco directly over the ice.
- Add the Aperol. Pour the Aperol over the prosecco — it will settle into that signature sunset color.
- Top with soda. Add a splash of club soda for a gentle fizz.
- Garnish and serve. Slide an orange slice onto the rim or drop it into the glass. Stir gently once and serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 16g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 10mg