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A regular of mine at The Royale (one of the ones I had a crush on) came in one night many years ago and ordered “a Manhattan, put it up on skates.” I shot him one of my perplexed Charlie Brown faces; he unfurled a devilish Cheshire grin (catnip to a female bartender who was fed up with her boyfriend at that point). He’d just heard this phrase, probably earlier that night during his own shift, and couldn’t wait to test it out on me. My demurely flirtatious reply: “What the fuck does ‘put it up on skates’ mean?”

It meant, shake the shit out of a Manhattan so hard that when you strain it, perfect, adorable little ice floes, teensy shards small enough to scoot through the coils of your Hawthorne strainer, dot the surface of your cocktail. To this day I know of nobody else who’s ever heard of or used this expression, but it’s always stuck with me as quite a cool thing to say… although yes, nowadays we know that all-alcohol cocktails like the Manhattan ought to be stirred, not shaken, lest you “bruise” their precious molecules. (See: “Don’t ever shake that drink, or you’ll kill it.”) Someday I’ll side-by-side taste-test that theory, but for now what can I say except that it was the 00′s; we were the young and the reckless, and I was really hoping to kiss this guy soon.

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My gosh, today kinda sucks, no? Not to rain (or snow, as it is up here in the Great White North) on anyone’s Thanksgiving Eve Parade, but this is always a busy and stressful day. What with the last-minute cleaning and shopping and cooking and fretting that your mother-in-law is going to get stuck in a snowbank somewhere north of Albany on her drive up to see you. And, even if you’re the self-employed, work-at-home type like me, the assignments you’re trying to get out the virtual door before getting yourself out your actual one, where walkway clearing awaits so Mom doesn’t kill herself on her way from her car to your apartment. Meanwhile, your dog won’t let you type at full speed because she likes her paw held while snuggling on the couch next to you, which results in typos like this one that just happened: “ci 980hkmn.”

Phew, *breathe*! My point is, I’ve got one more to-do to put on your list today, and it is worthwhile and it is this: Buy Underberg at your neighborhood’s finer liquor store. (Or Dean & Deluca.)

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