Mixology. The Best Cocktails

IMG_0389
Courtesy of Le Royal Meridien

Last week I was invited to a cocktail/mocktail master mixology class for bloggers. I must admit it was my first mixer and Samia, one of the PTA girls, agreed to join me representing the mocktail to my cocktail.

I had recently changed to a new medication which was leaving me feeling as disoriented as a sea-sick cruise passenger. I decided that maybe I should spare myself any embarrassment and cancel. So I sent Charlie the organizer a note. “I am sorry. Can’t come. In the process of letting new meds equilibrate. Not keen on making a fool of myself and since I cannot say no to a tasty cocktail, I must cancel.” Charlie responds, “Please come cocktails are tasty.”

So I went. I took a taxi to Samia’s place and she drove us to The Meridien Abu Dhabi which is the wrong hotel. Not the wrong hotel if you want to try out the new Greek restaurant (Opa!) but the wrong hotel if you’re going to join the bloggers at the Market Kitchen.

We drove a few minutes up the street to Le Royal Meridien home of the master mixology.

What a beautiful hotel. Unfortunately, in my time here in Abu Dhabi I have completely overlooked this fabulous hotel and all of its wonderful restaurants. Since we arrived late I wasn’t able to see the swimming pool which is a huge disappointment to me because I am on an official search for the most fabulous pools in Abu Dhabi. Hint. Hint. Le Royal Meridien.

I will also say, that my friend Laura used Le Royal Meridien to cater her masquerade party which was fabulous and the talk of the town for several days afterward.

Anyway, Samia and I climbed the stairs to this little bar above Market Kitchen which resembled the living room of my Italian aunt. If I were Italian and I had an aunt. It was super cozy, softly lit and the perfect place for an intimate evening. All around the place oozed Italian comfort. And the bar smelled like all of the fresh fruits we were going to use to concoct our mixology drinks.

From the beginning I knew things were going to be tricky because I was the only American at mixology. Samia is Canadian/Pakistani married to an American/British Pakistani. So she has the ethnic-mixology to converse that I do not. I should say thank you Samia for knowing Urdu. We would’ve been stuck in the lost corridors of Abu Dhabi without it. So I started the mixology night off not understanding anything anyone was saying. Could be due to the meds. Could be due to the fact that most of the other bloggers were British and although we share the English language we usually cannot share a conversation. I laugh as if I understand what they are saying and hope that they are not describing the recent event of their grandmother’s funeral. Life is not easy in a multicultural, ethnically blended city.

Anyway, Samia jumps into this mixology like she’s one of the crew. She’s chatting everyone up like she’s known them all her life. She’s like that regardless of where you take her. And there I was woozy on my prescription meds. “Gina I think you should go behind the bar and mix up a few drinks.” Samia said with her usual chatty smile which convinces you that everything is a good idea. I stumble by the bar past Bruno Valentino to begin my class in mixoloy when it occurs to me that there couldn’t be a more perfect name for the person who is hosting a mixology at an Italian restaurant than Bruno Valentino. Perfect. Although, now that I think about it, Bruno would be even more perfect as a silent Hollywood filmĀ star except those days are gone. Too bad for Bruno.

You might be expecting that due to my meds, limited communication with my cohorts, and the dark lighting of the venue that this blog post will end in a huge debacle and otherwise total failure. But it did not. It was an absolute success. Regardless of not understanding instruction or knowing what I was doing, both Samia and I managed to whip up some very tasty cocktails and mocktails. The rest of the evening was dedicated to eating some fantastic appetizers and drinking the very tasty drinks that I was promised. I will assure you that regardless of cooking skill, current medication routine or your ability to communicate, you too can mix up these tasty drinks. Give it a try.

Although I will remind you if you would like to visit and try the entire collection of fantastic cocktails from the masters please visit Market Kitchen at Le Royal Meridien Abu Dhabi.

I must say it was a great event and the Market Place is a lovely place to get together with friends new and old, and also with those you cannot understand. It makes an evening far more entertaining.

Thank you very much Mr. Bruno Valentino and the entire staff of Market Kitchen Le Royal Meridien Abu Dhabi.

The Market Kitchen has shared a few of the fabulous recipes for us to try at home….and when you’re finished mixing please invite me over.

 

screenshot89

COCKTAILS.
Cucumber Martini
2 oz. Hendricks gin
0.75 oz. fresh lemon juice
0.75 oz simple syrup
2 cucumber slices
2 mint leaves
Cucumber wheel and small mint leaf garnish

Muddle cucumber, mint, lemon juice, and syrup. Add gin.
Shake and double strain into chilled martini coupe.
Garnish with a cucumber wheel and small mint leaf

Ginger Margarita
1 vol oz Sauza Hornitos Reposado Tequila
1.5 vol oz Ginger syrup
.5 vol oz Cointreau
1 rim ginger salt
1 lime wedge

Rim rocks glass with ginger salt and fill with ice.
Pour all liquids into a mixing glass. Shake. Strain over fresh ice.
Squeeze lime wedge and drop into glass

_______________________________________

screenshot90

MOCKTAILS.

Cucumber Mint Swizzle
2.5oz fresh mint tea
0.5oz lemon juice
0.75oz simple syrup
0.25oz ginger syrup
1 barspoon chopped green apple
2 slice cucumber
6 mint leaves
Muddle mint, apple, cucumber
Add tea, lemon juice, ginger and simple syrup in a highball.
Fill highball halfway with crushed ice and swizzle until glass is frosty.
Fill the rest of the glass with crushed ice.
Garnish with mint sprig and cucumber slice

Strawberry Chamomile
0.5oz elderflower syrup
0.25oz simple syrup
0.25oz ginger base
2oz chamomile tea
3 strawberries
3 mint leaves in the shake
Orange and lemon wedge in the shake
Muddle strawberry with simple syrup and ginger base.
Add elderflower and chamomile
Add slapped mint leaves and orange and lemon wedges
Ice shaker and hard shake.
Strain into a cocktail coupe
Garnish with spanked mint leaf

___________________________________________

Kumquat Muddle
2oz sour orange
6 halved kumquats
6-8 mint leaf
Soda water
Muddle and dump into highball
Fill with ice and top with soda
Squeeze lime and drop into glass. Gentle stir.
Add 1.5 oz of Bacardi Light Rum for a Kumquats Mojito

Sour OrangeĀ 
Combine all the below
8 Vol oz Fresh lime juice
8 Vol oz Fresh lemon juice
8 Vol oz Fresh orange juice
6 Vol oz Simple syrup
6 Vol oz Elderflower syrup

Like my blog? Then please share it. That’s how I can become a famous writer. And then I will say I knew you when…

The Expat Exodus

It starts every year. It starts slowly you see.

The Expat Exodus is an annual event — and it’s free. It’s either free for the taking or a small charge that is nominal, there’s so much to choose from its almost farcical.

First people start with their boats, their cars and then move on to their bicycles. They snatch their kid’s toys and all unnecessary obstacles. As the weeks roll on they are selling blankets and breast pumps, clothes and shoes. Next comes hair dryers, air fryers, and everything else they can afford to lose.

The fishing equipment they’ve used once is gone. And so is the ping pong table made in Saigon. The potted plants will be snatched up so quickly you’d think it was cannabis or something else as addictive.

They barter and shove “Next please!” they shout. I must. I must — have that ugly couch!

They line up for miles to pick through the debris, of a once glamorous life like you see on TV. The sailboats, the yachts, the bubbly brunches and more; have been carefully chronicled on Facebook galore.

They came to this oil country dollar signs in their eyes, they bought Tiffany, Louis, Cavelli and Valentino. “Is there gold on my lip?” they ask with a smile. No worries mate, it’s only my joe. Let me lick my lips and wash down with prosecco.

Oh, don’t we wish the good times could go on forever. Yaallah — be a dear and go get the driver. The housemaid will carry the suitcases to the car. As they mentally prepare to go back to their flat in drab cold London, or boring St. Pat.

How do we go on without rose colored glasses, around the clock helpers, and dirt cheap gasses? Not to mention the around-the-world trips, the absence of jerks and all the other many, many, perks.

For years, the stories they will tell of their time in the desert and the land of the surreal – gold plated cars and tigers on leashes — champagne, cavier and aqua colored beaches.

Good bye UAE. We will miss you it’s true. But maybe now we can be a big fish too. We are not Sheiks, Sheikas, or live in ginormous palaces, but the children of countries just as rich in heritage, and history, with families who love us.

Khalas — we are finished! Shukran, we say. Thank you, thank you UAE for allowing us to stay.

pic by Brooke Laundry

pic by Brooke Laundry

 

The Twelve Days of a Middle Eastern Oil Country Christmas

5c4abaca675a11e3ba930a2d8b31586a_8

On the first day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the second day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
2 Bubbly Brunches
and a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the third day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
3 Shisha Pipes
2 Bubbly Brunches
andĀ a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the fourth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
4 Belly Dancers
3 Shisha Pipes
2 Bubbly Brunches
andĀ a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the fifth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
5 Gold Drizzled Coffees
4 Belly Dancers
3 Shisha Pipes
2 Bubbly Brunches
andĀ a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the sixth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
6 Luxury Sports Cars
5 Gold Drizzled Coffees
4 Belly Dancers
3 Shisha Pipes
2 Bubbly Brunches
andĀ a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the seventh day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
7 Towers of Chocolate
6 Luxury Sports Cars
5 Gold Drizzled Coffees
4 Belly Dancers
3 Shisha Pipes
2 Bubbly Brunches
andĀ a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the eighth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
8 Bleating Goats
7 Towers of Chocolate
6 Luxury Sports Cars
5 Gold Drizzled Coffees
4 Belly Dancers
3 Shisha Pipes
2 Bubbly Brunches
andĀ a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the ninth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
9 Indian Tailors
8 Bleating Goats
7 Towers of Chocolate
6 Luxury Sports Cars
5 Gold Drizzled Coffees
4 Belly Dancers
3 Shisha Pipes
2 Bubbly Brunches
andĀ a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the tenth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
10Ā Dancing Camels
9 Indian Tailors
8 Bleating Goats
7 Towers of Chocolate
6 Luxury Sports Cars
5 Gold Drizzled Coffees
4 Belly Dancers
3 Shisha Pipes
2 Bubbly Brunches
andĀ a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the eleventh day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
11 Whispering Arabs
10Ā Dancing Camels
9 Indian Tailors
8 Bleating Goats
7 Towers of Chocolate
6 Luxury Sports Cars
5 Gold Drizzled Coffees
4 Belly Dancers
3 Shisha Pipes
2 Bubbly Brunches
andĀ a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

On the twelfth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
12 Ethiopian Housemaids
11 Whispering Arabs
10Ā Dancing Camels
9 Indian Tailors
8 Bleating Goats
7 Towers of Chocolate
6 Luxury Sports Cars
5 Gold Drizzled Coffees
4 Belly Dancers
3 Shisha Pipes
2 Bubbly Brunches
andĀ a crazy Pakistani Taxi Driver

P.S. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus in the Middle East.

 

 

Pazzo fottuto driver degli Emirati!

It sounded like a good idea. Kerstin, our little momma bear, decided to organize a desert safari for the PTA. ā€œSteve goes dune bashing all the time by himselfā€ she said trying to insert a little confidence into the plan. Well, I thought to myself, Steve runs 20 miles for no reason and is as thin as a Holocaust survivor even after a big meal — so that’s really not too comforting. The thought of tackling massive hills of sand in the middle of nowhere with an Emirati behind the wheel was more than a little frightening but if I didn’t do it, I looked like a ninny-boo-boo and everyone would gossip about me behind my back so I was forced into it.

Kerstin
Kerstin

We met in the school parking lot and began dividing people up into five car loads of five plus the drivers. Since HP is the only doctor in the group, we decided he would take the small children in case of a bloody nose or something like that, so he took the 5 elementary boys and the rest of us dispersed into the other SUVs. I was in the car with the Italians, Enrico and Laura, and Tonya, our Korean axis of evil (this is a story for another day) and her 4th grade daughter. I sat in front with our driver, Yousef, the Italians in the back seat and Tonya and her daughter in the third row.

wHN14nRXYUYONcLtQG6XrBy_cXEss0tNs4t4n4GHpMo

We stopped off at a camel farm which really wasn’t a farm more like a desert feed lot in the middle of nowhere. I guess I may have downgraded it from a farm because there were no tractors. But then again, there’s really nothing to use a tractor for so why buy one? It’s not like they are planting wheat or anything so as far as implements go, they were sparse. So, yes, it was a feed lot, in the middle of nowhere. With camels. And we stood and took pictures. So far the trip was pretty mundane.

ftN6QdW_rXHiMZIMaQ4mV8-yaWebNXVeZYep6eNVxHU

We piled back into the SUVs and headed on our way down a long sandy road which led to an even more deserted spot and as we drove the sand begin to get higher and higher. And all of a sudden the adventure began. The Emirati dropped the SUV into low gear and off we went! We started climbing a dune that had to be the height of a three story building. We drove across the very peak of a sand ridge which was barely a car width and then we would begin sliding sideways down the other side of the dune!

ā€œHow long have you been working here?ā€ I asked the driver. ā€œFour days!ā€ he shouted with a smile.

OMG! OMG! I couldn’t breath. Between my allergies and the fact that I was scared I would let out an inappropriate blood curdling Stephen King scream, I couldn’t inhale air. I tried but it wasn’t happening. So I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see but this plan was subverted by Enrico’s praying in the seat behind me. As soon as we peaked and we were getting ready to fall down the other side, Enrico began to both pray and express himself in a way that only Italians can do.

Madre di Dio per favore non fateci morire dalle mani di questo pazzo degli Emirati Arabi!

Mamma mia! Stiamo andando a rotolare giù questa gigantesca collina di sabbia e morire.

sam7P8iyyzlUwqOqUb45tI9Hb65yoqWhUYDgJRtgIvY IQ-q7oGXQuqdZMcDHzwSalJ9cHLZ4JVfdtUlg8XlZ68 rzeGVXJgcYJbGhsg5BWOuyP3UyrpvAoJdSdpzp4dmUw 1kZpMtF3-dqsQjR-v7pcopVgnut733E6ta6iAvnUSH8

WTF! I was raised Southern Baptist so when we pray we don’t really want to ALARM God. We pray politely so not to inconvenience our Savior. Such as in a Jerry Falwell sort of voice. ā€œLorrrd,Ā  Pleeease fiiiind the tiiiime in your verrry beeza schedule and hear our prayers our precious Lordā€ Where as the Italians pull the alarm, raise the roof, call the polizia! Some SH&%T is going down and we need GOD pronto, prego, allegra! And they speak fast, and loud, and close, and they have their hands going in a million different directions. When they discuss going to the supermarket, one would think the supermarket is on fire, not that they are simply having a sale.

So I am in the car with Enrico and some SH%&T IS GOING DOWN! And that SH%&T is us! We are going down a sand dune the size of the freaking Tetons in Wyoming. And my eyes are super glued shut and I would’ve been okay if it weren’t for the Italian in the back seat.

Wowzers! Madre di spaghetti ho bisogno di uscire da questa vettura o io potrei fare pipƬ miei pantaloni!

Odio la musica cazzo che questo ragazzo sta giocando!

I don’t understand. Enrico is excited, he’s happy, he’s crazy, he’s screaming and I don’t know if I should be concerned or enjoying myself. And then after an hour of emotional torment while listening to Arab club music (yes, didn’t know it existed either) it was over and we were delivered to a campsite, with food, henna, shisha, sand surfing, camel riding and a belly dancer.

IMG_1212 IMG_1226 IMG_1227 IMG_1214

After we ate, danced, smoked, and drank (non-alcoholic drinks) and then we headed back into the city. Yousef, our driver, watched soccer on his phone while driving 90 mph on the highway. Yes, I could’ve said something. Any GOOD mother would have said something but this skinny Emirati guy took us on the most amazingly skilled adventure of our life. My guess is at birth he drove himself right out of his mother’s womb. He was that good! If you ever have a chance this is one adventure that you will absolutely never forget. Seriously, if someone ever says do you want to go on a desert safari? Say yes.

Pazzo fottuto driver degli Emirati!

zAbSmXi1J1LO8jzjAil1MgUujQg8lDIS02T5Uig13gw 27nXn4p2aYQR3l9ioSKRbQwp0ApWOU7TDAj-rbtSy7s gOf213YrSb_3UiytP49qUvJzwIZ0nWgyHdqwq3KxZ0s l6qiWgvt0Iq5o8mPKM1z3xNud7O1r5KPHfB1Tj0gUBA KlHkhjcbpeeJ45HenK89eZ4r2gu61Fl_EBp7SGlu5pQ gzu78-6_ZR0wz7FaIVXr7eKIBkRWqxvRJ9Igllc6E6c ZeDIJxTDVPaAg4t5svur8cEH3j74V4nbsVmsU3KCs78