my new goal in life

My adored angel, Eric Felten (if you don't know who he is, shame on you. Mr. Felten writes the "How Is Your Drink?" column for the Wall St. Journal, bringing erudition and an inquiring mind to world-class coverage of sots and their drinks), has given me a belated Christmas present: a new goal.

I've been casting about, a bit shiftless of late. The first part of the year I was busy running my very own halfway house (we took in a crashing alcoholic, also we attempted briefly and fruitlessly to intervene in the life of a pregnant teen). Then, after we had to shut down the halfway house because our inmate relapsed and nearly burnt the house down, I became involved in the horrific Petaluma rat hoarding tragedy of 2006. That was like having a job over the summer, what with networking, making phone calls, checking email, picking up rats, delivering rats, hosting rats here in my home, etc.. When that was over, it was time for the annual auction at Lola's preschool, and I had a lot of work on my hands to fulfil our family's fundraising requirements. I was looking for a new tattoo artist off and on (this didn't rise to the level of a big, time-consuming quest, but it could have), and that's been achieved (Shannon of Braindrops on Haight Street!), but it has become apparent that each tattoo I get will result in a big hissy fit from the husband, who'll sulk and storm about for a day or two. (I'm still getting a little rocket ship on my right leg in January). I've been fostering kittens, and that gave me some intense weeks (when a litter is tiny and not really mobile, you have to feed them many times a day, do at least one load of kitten-caused laundry a day, bathe them, etc..) But my life had a big purpose for much of 2006, apart from ferrying my children about the city and doing laundry: first my virgin forays into codependence with my halfway house and next the saving of the Petaluma rats. I've felt kind of empty and purposeless since then.

But now Eric Felten is here to (temporarily) save me and redeem me. Mr. Felten confides that anyone who is not a shiftless loser can create their own cocktail. Why should you drink a regular old Manhattan or Cosmo when you should be drinking a personal recipe which reminds you of your heritage or travels? (But what about the people from undistinguished origins they would rather forget, who haven't really been anywhere? What about their pain??) Remember, most great cocktails follow a simple formula:

Take 1 1/2 of a base (vodka is the easiest to work with; spirits such as whiskey, gin brandy, or tequila are more complex and interesting, however).

Add 1/2 ounce of an aromatized or fortified wine (vermouth, Dubonnet, Lillet, sherry, port. Port?? Have I ever had a cocktail with port in it? I love port).

Finish with a 1/4 ounce of a liqueur of your choice (ooh, I love liqueurs).

Jeff Hollinger, the "chief mixologist" (I hate that "word") at the Absinthe Brasserie and Bar and coauthor of "The Art of the Bar"(and incidentally creator of the Galapagos, a cocktail I have greatly enjoyed when I've been to the A.B.&B) says one should fine tune a recipe by making four or five variations of it and line them up right next to each other. As you drink through them all, a greater understanding of the subtleties will emerge (although I imagine I would become seized by some idea that the proportions just don't matter and start flinging the ingredients about willy-nilly).

Anyhow, I am determined to create the Drunken Housewife cocktail. I'll post the recipe when I've reached perfection. I haven't invented a drink since college, when I created the Trash Fairy (whiskey and grapefruit juice with a maraschino cherry). My own child has outdone me in this regard; she came home from kindergarten one day and invented a (non-alcoholic, natch) drink she dubbed the Saint-Saens (god, I love that child).