Pomegranate Cranberry Martini

Two weeks. The countdown feels different from the Vietnam trip countdown — that was about going to something. This is about something coming to us. Huong is coming here, to Houston, to Mai's house, to the world we built after the boat. The world that didn't exist when they last saw each other. Huong will walk into a house on a street in Alief, Texas, and see what her sister made from nothing. That thought keeps me awake at night. Not with anxiety. With something closer to reverence.

Work was productive. Closed two big deals — a Vietnamese restaurant expansion in Bellaire and a food truck conversion in the Heights. The food truck owner is a young woman from El Salvador who's doing pupusa-and-banh mi fusion, which is the kind of Houston thing that makes me love this city. Pupusas and banh mi are both filled breads from different traditions, both born from working-class ingenuity, both perfect. She asked me what equipment she needed. I set her up with a flat-top griddle and a steam table and told her she was going to do well. She will. Houston rewards people who cook with their heart.

Tyler and Jessica announced the pregnancy to the family this week — twelve weeks, past the safety zone. Emma screamed. Lily screamed. Mai said, "I told you." She had not told anyone anything, but retroactive prophecy is one of Mai's specialties. The baby is due in December. Tyler will be twenty-three and a father. I was twenty-seven when Tyler was born, and I was not ready. Tyler is ready. He's steadier than I was, more present, more sober (literally — I was already drinking when Tyler was born). He'll be a good father. He already is.

Made a special dish for the announcement dinner: bò nướng lá lốt — beef wrapped in betel leaves and grilled. Ground beef seasoned with lemongrass, fish sauce, garlic, sugar, and five-spice, wrapped in wild betel leaves (lá lốt) and grilled over charcoal until the leaves char and the meat is cooked through. The aroma is intoxicating — peppery, meaty, smoky. You eat them with rice noodles, herbs, and nuoc cham. It's one of the most distinctly Vietnamese things I cook, and it felt right for an evening when the family was growing again.

The bò nướng lá lốt was the heart of that announcement dinner, but every celebration needs something to raise. I mixed a round of these Pomegranate Cranberry Martinis for the adults at the table — that deep ruby color felt exactly right for the night, something as vivid and full of life as the news Tyler and Jessica had just shared. Mai held hers up and didn’t say a word, which from her means everything.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

3 oz vodka
2 oz pomegranate juice
2 oz cranberry juice (100% juice preferred)
1 oz triple sec or Cointreau
1/2 oz fresh lime juice
1 cup ice cubes
Fresh cranberries and a lime wheel, for garnish
Optional: 1/2 oz simple syrup, if you prefer a sweeter drink

Instructions

Chill your glasses. Place two martini glasses in the freezer for at least 5 minutes before serving, or fill them with ice water while you prepare the cocktail.
Combine the ingredients. Add the vodka, pomegranate juice, cranberry juice, triple sec, and lime juice to a cocktail shaker. Taste the juices first — if your cranberry juice is quite tart, add the optional simple syrup now.
Add ice and shake. Fill the shaker with ice and shake vigorously for 20–25 seconds until the outside of the shaker is very cold and frosty.
Strain and serve. Discard the ice water from your chilled glasses. Strain the cocktail evenly between the two glasses using a fine-mesh strainer to catch any ice chips.
Garnish. Thread 3–4 fresh cranberries onto a cocktail pick and rest it across the rim. Add a small lime wheel on the edge of the glass. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pomegranate Cranberry Martini — A Toast to the Family Growing Around the Table