Sundowners

"When evening quickens in the street, comes a pause in the day's occupation that is known as the cocktail hour. It marks the lifeward turn. The heart wakens from coma and its dyspnea ends. Its strengthening pulse is to cross over into campground, to believe that the world has not been altogether lost or, if lost, then not altogether in vain.”   from The Hour: A Cocktail Manifesto by Bernard DeVoto

Reading a review of the recently-reprinted book quoted above brought back happy memories of my decadent past: ruminating as the daylight faded on a Ugandan verandah, clinking the ice in my gin and tonic; or rushing through the closing items of the Governing Body agenda so as not to miss the College’s monthly largesse of spirits (rather than sherry) before High Table. Halcyon days!

My eldest son is spending his long vacation studying chimpanzees in the Semliki forest in Western Uganda, in the shadow of the Mountains of the Moon. I must encourage him to stock up with gin on his next visit to Fort Portal so that he too can look back with the same pleasure on magical Martini moments at the end of a tropical day. Duncan, take note:

"In short, the author of "The Hour" is a purist. Martinis must always be prepared just before serving, and any leftover in a pitcher should be thrown out once the first round has been poured. A smidgen of lemon rind is acceptable but not essential. The recommended proportion of gin to vermouth should be 3.7 to 1, though 4 to 1 may be allowed in the case of those who have trouble with fractions.
Like many right-thinking people, I myself incline toward W.H. Auden's view that the vermouth bottle should simply be waved over the tumbler of Tanqueray. But then -- horrors! -- I do sip the gin on the rocks: Being of a meditative character, I like to study the ice cubes while slowly jiggling the glass."   Michael Dirda, reviewer