Hello, everyone! So, it's been about six months since I've ruffled the waters of this reticent food blog. I'd like to imagine that it's been absently humming to itself, completely relaxed in a warm, summery field, somewhere along the coast of the internet. I won't offer meandering excuses as to where I've been or fluffy reasons for a long absence, but they involve an archaic, finicky oven and the need to replenish a disappearing blogging mojo. I'm still trying to deal with the latter, but I *think* I have managed to grab onto its tail (my mojo's spirit animal is an elusive, prickly arctic fox).
Instead of confections, I've resurfaced with a libation (my very first!). You will be smitten with this coy, little intoxicant, I promise.
I have not had the pleasure of seeing an early release of the film High-Rise, but I devoured J.G. Ballard's novel during an unfairly brisk night, last September. While reading the book, I became increasingly agitated by the howling, unseasonably cold weather that happened to arise uncomfortably close to my birthday. In fact, it almost felt as though I should have a say in how the temperature was run, in the shortening daylight, in the bottles of shampoo that run out long before their twin conditioners...I wanted everything to just be the way I wanted it, simply because I wanted it.
As I've mentioned before on this blog, when I read books, I immerse myself completely. And thanks to an overactive imagination, it's all too easy to get caught up with the characters, and the overall ambience. Even as I loathed some of the players in this particular novel, I couldn't help but get caught up in their ethos.
I won't give anything away, in case you have not read High-Rise, but it's been liked, rightfully so, to a modern (70s), adult version of Lord of the Flies. As the title suggests, it takes place in a high rise apartment complex, in 1970s London. Each level represents various social classes: working, middle, and upper. It's a vertical, encapsulated metaphor of society. It begins at the end of all the chaos, with the central character, Robert Liang (played by Tom Hiddleston in the film) reflecting on his 3-month long experiences as a mid-level resident. It's violent, debauched, sensual, and lightly blushed with moments of dark humor.
"The more arid and affectless life became in the high-rise, the greater the possibilities it offered. By its very efficiency, the high-rise took over the task of maintaining the social structure that supported them all. For the first time, it removed the need to suppress every kind of anti-social behavior and left them free to explore any deviant or wayward impulses."
~ J.G.Ballard, High-Rise
Like the high-rise herself, this concoction appears innocuous, but once you slip willingly into its sweet embrace, you may find yourself comfortably oblivious to reality. It's a smooth, intoxicating mix of Limoncello, pomegranate juice, and mint simple syrup. It packs quite the punch - I had a ridiculously fun time experimenting/figuring out the right amount of each ingredient.
P.S. I cannot wait to see the film! It opens on March 18th, for those of you who live in the UK. The rest of us will have to wait until May 13. oxox
High Rise cocktail
1 1/2 oz Limoncello
2 oz pure pomegranate juice
1/2 - 1 oz mint simple syrup. feel free to experiment with your desired amount (recipe follows)
Mint simple syrup: In a small saucepan, combine 1 cup of water with 1 cup granulated sugar, and about 5 sprigs of fresh mint. (Before adding the mint, rub the leaves together until they're slightly bruised.) Stir over low heat, just until the sugar has dissolved. Pour syrup through a strainer, into a glass jar (or anything that can be sealed + refrigerated) discard the mint sprigs. Refrigerate syrup until ready to use. Well-covered, the syrup will last for about 7 days.
Combine ingredients, stir, imbibe!