I almost wrote a disquisition on Stern v. Marshall, No. 10-179, a big-deal bankruptcy case that involved Anna Nicole Smith and the estate of her deceased husband, a partner of the Koch brothers’ father. Not being super-sharp on the issue, I thought instead that I’d write about the Highway Trust Fund. (You’ll be hearing about the issue over the next 30 days, for sure.) Or about the alleged, “it’s coming,” John Boehner suit against President Barack Obama.
I suspect you’ve figured this one out by now: I was simply looking for anything, anything lighter and easier to get through than what the U.S. Supreme Court has visited on us in the last several days. Alas, I struggled. Then I checked prior posts and found nothing about “the Vesper.”
The Vesper is my new best drink. The drink comes from Casino Royale by Ian Fleming. Here’s the dialogue, which includes the recipe:
“A dry martini,” [Bond] said. “One. In a deep champagne goblet.”
“Just a moment. Three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it’s ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon peel. Got it?”
“Certainly, monsieur.” The barman seemed pleased with the idea.
“Gosh, that’s certainly a drink,” said Leiter.
Bond laughed. “When I’m … er … concentrating,” he explained, “I never have more than one drink before dinner. But I do like that one to be large and very strong and very cold and very well-made. I hate small portions of anything, particularly when they taste bad. This drink’s my own invention. I’m going to patent it when I can think of a good name.”
No patent, but the name—Bond names the drink after Vesper Lynd, first played by Ursula Andress—comes in the next chapter. (BTW, Bond and I have at least two things in common: Our maleness, and our preference for drinks that are large, strong, very cold, and very well-made. Political correctness says “say no more!”)
I did a bit of baking last weekend, in and amongst my writing, working, and other activities. I do Bialys often from a book called life, death & bialys by Dylan Schaffer, an attorney. The book revolves around a father-son week at a bread-baking school, soon before the father died of cancer. Father and son did not have a great relationship, but they mended it a bit before the father’s death.
The book brought to mind my dad. But for no “week at a bread-baking school” and the fact that Mr. Schaffer’s upbringing was bizarre while mine was, in the words of Ms. J, a “Leave it to Beaver” existence, we’re pretty much on “all fours.” (Oh, there’s also the fact that Mr. Schaffer has several published books … and I have not!)
Anyway, my dad dabbled in the kitchen minimally, but I do recall that a Denver omelet was in his repertoire. He was a methodical man in the kitchen chopping each vegetable separately, cleaning up after each step, etc. And very into sautéing! So he’d chop an onion. A green bell pepper. (Who knew from red, much less yellow or orange, in the late 1960s?) Mushrooms. Ham. Cheddar cheese. Maybe some other ingredients. These are probably 45-year-old memories. Then the eggs and, voila, an omelet. And not a half bad one! (Tomatoes. I’m sure there were tomatoes.)
So, I thought I’d try a Denver bun. Bialy dough with the addition of one egg and some whole wheat flour—substituted for part of the all-purpose flour—to soften and “health-ify” the rolls. Onion, red bell pepper, ham, Cheddar cheese, and dried tomatoes, with a light egg-water mix on top, just before baking.
In closing, thank you all for engaging over the past week or so on what are really important issues. McMullen v. Coakley and Burwell v. Hobby Lobby will be around to be dealt with soon, as will the many other problems we face. In the meantime, posting will continue, and I’m also looking at ways to better engage with my readers. I’m thinking about a Tucson event, podcasting, etc. If you have ideas or interest—and, of course, if you have feedback about Mark Rubin Writes—please contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org or post a comment.
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