A moment of panic just set in.
I thought I had skipped the letter 'E'
of the alphabet challenge. But after several minutes of repeating
the alphabet in my head and under my breath, as well as questioning
my mental capacity, I found it on my phone and not in my computer
files because I wrote 'E' on my phone, on my way to work on the train
while it was threatening to rain...
Which brings me to today's letter 'H'
for Hemingway.
(Did you get the connection there? The
lengthy, run on sentence with a reference to daily activities in bad
weather with a constant threat of death? Fine, my train ride is
pretty safe, but still.)
I became a fan of Hemingway my Junior
year of high school.
Up until then my only exposure was a
huge head shot poster of Ernie in a heavy turtleneck sweater staring
off into the distance.The poster hung on my first high school
American Literature class wall. I vaguely remember that teacher
mentioning Hemingway but my biggest take-away from that class was
reading The Bridge of San Luis Ray, and the accompanying poster of a
bunch of Italians and a bridge on the opposite wall of the Hemingway
poster.
Apparently Literature in the 1970's was
anchored in graphic arts.
We moved to a much larger high school
the end of my Junior year. (By much larger I mean the population of
the TOWN I moved from was smaller than my graduating class of the new
school.)
I spent four months feeling like the
outsider I was, with the exception of art class and American
Literature.
Art students are notoriously accepting.
But the American Literature teacher was
handsome.
Oh, yeah, and I entered the class as
they were just beginning the section on the Hemingway Hero. Nick
Adams was a new type of character. He was flawed.
Up to that point my recreational
reading was steeped in romantic novels and historical fiction. There
were good guys and bad guys but no one was a combination of both.
Until Nick Adams, and by extension
Ernest Hemingway.
We read a handful of Nick Adams stories
and moved on to A Farewell to Arms and finished with The Sun Also
Rises. And by the final day of that semester my thoughts on
literature were changed forever.
I re-read The Sun Also Rises during
summer break.
And I re-read it every summer after
that.
Even though I knew I would be slightly
confused by the story.
No matter how many times I read the
story Jake and Brett would never make it work.
I tried to figure out why.
I would be angry at Jake. Then Brett.
And each time I read the book a little
piece of my own personal philosophy formed.
Although at the time I had no idea.
I was too naive to understand the
complexities of the relationships Hemingway described – between the
characters and the bull fights or between the characters themselves.
I haven't read The Sun Also Rises in
quite a few years. I have read so many more books by and about
Hemingway since then. Garden of Eden was my favorite for a while,
until A Moveable Feast replaced it. Last summer, under the insistence
of my husband, I read A Dangerous Summer – the real accounts of
bullfighting in Spain.
I don't agree with the sport but I have
to admit, the artistry involved is fascinating.
But it is more than the literature I
have fallen in love with.
The lifestyle described in these books
– travel, food, drink, friends. It is the life I imagine living.
Who wouldn't want a fresh caught trout
roasted over an open flame? Can anything be better than an afternoon
at an outside cafe with friends discussing current events, literature
and where to get the best cigar. Belmonte is fighting in Pamplona?
Hotch has a car? Lets go!
Sure, my life is a little less
free-form, what with the full-time job and all. That doesn't stop me
from allowing the idea of that lifestyle into my real existence. Not
literally. I have never been to a bullfight, nor do I want to go and
our group discussions tend to focus more on kids and parents and
basketball* (which is pretty much a constant current affair).
It is more an idea.
A feeling.
That anything can be fresh, exciting.
And if it has become tired and dull, looking for a new way to make
the everyday intriguing again.
Embracing life for what it is.
Fleeting.
And to be relished and savored.
For the good and the bad.
And now we drink..
Because one of my other favorite
discoveries is the Hemingway Daiquiri.
And while that recipe is pretty simple
I learned a way to make it a little more complicated without ruining
the simplicity.
I give you the Browned Butter Hemingway Daiquiri!
 |
| while not necessary, these taste so much better in very fragile antique glasses, which I only use for photos |
Browned Butter Rum
2 sticks of butter
2 cups white, dark or a
mix of both Rum
Melt the butter in a
skillet and let simmer for about 5 minutes until the butter begins to
brown.
Remove from the heat and
SLOWLY stir in the rum.
Cover and let sit in the
fridge for two days.
(preferably in a ceramic
bowl. Plastic is okay. NO METAL)
After two days remove from
the fridge.
Skim off the top layer of
butter solids.
Rum butter!
(sounds gross and delish
at the same time)
Strain the rum through a
coffee filter or cheesecloth and store in the fridge for up to one
week.
 |
| my makeshift straining device. |
Hemingway Daiquiri
2 ounces brown butter rum
1
ounce simple syrup
1
ounce lime juice
1/4
ounce maraschino liquor
1/4
ounce grapefruit juice
shake
over ice
strain
into a chilled cocktail glass
Enjoy
on the deck as Belmonte regales you with his exploits in the ring and
Hotch passes out Cuban cigars.
*This reference is for
Craig. Did you see it Craig?
Interested in learning more
about Belmonte?
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juan_Belmonte
How about A. E. 'Hotch'
Hotchner (born and raised in St Louis!): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A._E._Hotchner
