Ice, by Ray S

The invitation read:

Cocktails

6 PM

Friday, the 25th of November, 2016

Arriving a little after six that evening I was greeted by the hostess’s daughter and ushered to meet the other two guests. Maybe another man or two were on the way, but at this moment it looked like it would be my turn to respond politely, if not wittily and interestedly in what subject the ladies brought up.

Seated on the right end of the sofa sat Ms. Dorothy dressed in her robe looking very much like, I might imagine, the Dowager Empress. The opposite end of the sofa was occupied by Laura who also managed an occasional run to the pantry to replenish snacks or ice.

The cocktail table was set with an inviting selection of tasty foodstuffs.

All of this was surveyed by our hostess, Mary, who was in command of the most important part of the evening’s ritual. Here on a silver tray stood a tall glass cylinder and stir stick. Then the ice bucket and the necessary stem glasses. With a grand gesture Mary dropped each ice cube into the pitcher. Then came a bottle of Queen Victoria’s Best. No measure was needed. To my amazement Mary had a very practiced eye that resulted in four perfect double Martinis—olive or a twist, your choice.

The long glass swizzle stick gently massaged the gin and the ice cubes. Remember, “Always stirred, never shaken.” The other element of this communion of happy souls that surprised me was the absence of any Vermouth, however, rest assured no one but I missed it, and I survived.

© 5 December 2016

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