This one's for the ladies

The ladies of twitter, that is!* I was chatting earlier this evening with the lovely @Geeka, @biochembelle, @Gerty-Z, @enniscath, @modernscientist, and @_modscientist_ (DIFFERENT PEOPLE!) about the beauty that is gin.

I love gin. Now, gin is not something whose taste appeals to everyone right away--it's somewhat acquired, and it needs to be done right. But when it is done right, it adds a dimension to cocktails to which no vodka could ever come close.  With the obvious exception of the bloody mary, vodka does not touch Dr. Becca's lips. It does not please me.

Anyway, all that ginny tweeting made me thirsty, and so I decided to make one of my absolute favorite gin cocktails--the Archangel. Fittingly, the Archangel was invented by one of my favorite bartenders in all the city, Richie Boccato--formerly of Milk & Honey, currently proprietor of Dutch Kills and Painkiller. This man is quality through and through.

The Archangel is so elegant and so delicious, there is almost no pre-dinner cocktail I prefer.  It is light and crisp and only a tiny bit sweet, and it only contains alcohol, so to those of you who are used to taking your gin with 3 parts tonic, watch out.

You will need the following:

a few slices of cucumber (seedless is best)
gin
Aperol
lemon twist

Aperol is an aperitif that's similar to Campari, but far less bitter and less alcoholic. It is a more delicate Campari, which is important since we're dealing with delicate flavors here.  Some of you might scoff at my choice of gin here, but I actually like the taste of Beefeater better than that of Tanqueray and Bombay Sapphire--it's cleaner. Hendrick's is for special occasions and martinis only, until I am rich.

So. Take your pint glass and put the cucumbers in.  Give them a couple of punches with a muddler or spoon, but don't pulverize them.  You just want to...loosen them up a little.  Put in a ton of ice, and then add 2.5 oz gin and 1 oz Aperol.  There should be so much ice that it sticks up above the level of the liquid, comme ça:

I have no idea why this isn't centering like it's supposed to. 

Stick in a long spoon, let it all sit for a minute, and then stir for at least another minute. OK, 30 seconds should be fine. You want it to be really cold, though!

Twist your lemon twist so that the oils start to ooze out of the skin. Drop it in the martini glass, and strain the contents of the pint glass on top of that.  When you look closely, you should be able to see the lemon oil floating on the surface. Enjoy!!!

Oh, and feel free to munch on the gin-and-Aperol-soaked cucumbers from your pint glass.  They're delicious!!

*This is also for Genomic Repairman, who had a shitty day.

Civic Duty, Shmivic Duty! (part 1)

 JURY DUTY.  Is there anything more annoying, when taken out of context? I mean, I got stuff to do! Important experiments, etc!! I’ll be honest—when the summons arrived in my snail mail I was annoyed, but also a little curious, never having served before except for once in grad school where we were let go after lunch because there were no cases.  Many of my friends in NY have been called for jury but only one has ever sat on a case, so I figured this would be an easy day of hanging out at the courthouse, after which I’d be let go, free of civic responsibilities for the next 8 years.  I emailed my boss that I’d be missing lab meeting but would most likely be in the next day, and headed to downtown Brooklyn.

The jury holding area is like a giant airport terminal gate, but without the stinky airplane smell or screaming infants.  Unlike an airport terminal, the wi-fi was free, so I popped open the MacBook and settled in for a little internetting.  People were sleepy and disgruntled, so to pep us up we were shown an informative video about how awesome the jury system is.  As I’m sure you’re all well aware, one effective technique in demonstrating a thing’s awesomeness is to contrast that thing with something that is not awesome.  Accordingly, our video began with a re-enactment of trial-by-drowning. 

I’m not even kidding—I’m sitting there at 8:30 in the morning watching actors dressed in rags, their faces all dirty and toothless and whatnot, drag another dirty, toothless, rag-dressed actor down to a lake, bind his hands and feet, and toss him in.  Just how I like to start my day! Then there was a man-on-the-street sort of thing in which we heard sound bites from people who were all “Boo, I hate jury duty. Such a nuisance, why me, etc!” and then Diane Sawyer came on and explained why jury duty was so important, and then we had more man-on-the-street interviews with people who were really pleased about jury duty.  It’s what makes America great, you see!

Several hours later, they started calling names for a case.  My ears pricked up, my heart started pounding, and my internal monologue went something along the lines of don’tpickmedon’tpickmedon’tpickmedon’tpickme until I heard the dreaded words, “Dr Becca.”  I let out an audible sigh, gathered my things, and joined the parade to the courtroom.

Inside, we were given the opportunity to ask the judge to be excused. Since I wasn’t smack dab in the middle of a big experiment, I didn’t feel right begging out, so I stayed seated. Out of about 50 of us, maybe 15 or so were excused from there. The rest of us were introduced to the attorneys and defendant, whom we learned was accused of a burglary. Criminal case FTW!!  We then each had to answer a string of questions, which included “Have you or has anyone in your family been the victim of a crime?” “Are any of your relatives or close friends police officers?” and which ended with “are you capable of being an impartial juror?”

Ladies and Gentlemen of my readership, you would not believe what a bunch of WHINY-ASS BITCHES your fellow citizens are.  I can’t even tell you how many people claimed not to be able to be impartial because their fucking iPod had been stolen from a bar or wherever in 2003. They sucked, and the judge looked like she saw right through their pansy lies, but there was nothing she could do. If you say you can’t be impartial, you’re excused, the end.  Interestingly, the more I listened to everyone and their pathetic attempts to get out of jury duty, the more I felt compelled to actually do my duty.  

And so when it was my turn, I responded with the honest truth about my crime-free and non-police-knowing existence (so sheltered!). Naturally, then, I made it to the top twenty-two.  The attorneys then pressed us on some of our possible biases: Would any of us find it impossible to find a defendant guilty without DNA or fingerprint evidence?  Do we think it’s possible for a police officer to lie on the stand?  Do we think a police officer is more likely than other people to lie on the stand?  There was amazingly someone who said no, they didn’t think it was possible for a police officer to lie, and I don’t think they were just saying it to get out, either. All kinds, I tell you!

After a quick break, we were called back in to hear the big news. Of the 22 of us remaining, only 9 were chosen for the jury, including…yours truly! Picky attorneys, man. Since they were 3 jurors + 3 alternates short, the trial wouldn’t start until the next afternoon, when they’d had a chance in the morning to select the rest of the group.  Finally we were dismissed, and I walked home, thinking, well…I guess here we go!