Clink, clink, clink. Hear that? That's the sound of melting ice cubes, making room for whiskey. That's the sound of Sunday night.
Sunday evening used to mean Sopranos or SATC, but now Sunday nights are for Mad Men. And, how can you possibly watch Don Draper's suave antics without a retro cocktail in hand?
One of my favorite classic cocktails is the Whiskey Sour.
Like Amélie Poulain, my life is all about the littlest pleasures: the freshest, pinkest raspberries; the deep blue of a Vermeer painting; the perfect crispness of a glass of Prosecco; the divine simplicity of an afternoon at the beach; the heavenly scent of a vanilla bean. Here I blog to celebrate the good life, la dolce vita, la belle vie. Cherish life's petits plaisirs and enrich your daily existence.
You should know that I take liberties with grammar, punctuation, & diction. Do not fear! I assure you I've been educated about the woes of abundant comma usage or the impropriety of ending a sentence with a preposition. Here, as this is not my dissertation, I write as I talk. I also make up words on occasion.
"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." -Ernest Hemingway