The Only Link I Care About This Week
One of the best shows I’ve watched all year.
(It’s an FX show, but I watched on Hulu)
The Only Recipe I Care About This Week
The below is not a photo of The Crisp Martini. It is a photo of my preferred martini: The Basil Cucumber Martini. However, I spent last weekend celebrating the 30th birthday of my lifelong friend, Calli, who has been preaching the gospel of the Gulfstream (yes, accidentally two weeks in a row) Crisp Martini for many, many years. It feels only right that after all of the dining hours and dollars spent with the Hillstone Group, that she was gifted the Crisp Martini recipe for such a milestone birthday (allegedly). For legal reasons, I will neither confirm or deny whether or not our waitress gave us the exact measurements of recipe, but after years of Calli’s attempts at reengineering it to perfection from her home in Denver, far away from the botox filled booths of Newport’s finest surf and turf, it looks like she has finally earned the keys to the castle and the castle tastes real, real good.
Allegedly, the Crisp Martini
By: Gulfstream, Allegedly
Recipe via Gossip Girl
INGREDIENTS
Equal Parts:
Lemon Juice
Hendricks
St. Germaine
A splash of Sauvignon Blanc
INSTRUCTIONS
Lemon juice, Hendricks and St. Germaine in a shaker with lots of ice. Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake. Pour into a chilled Martini Glass. Top her off with ice cold Sauvi B.
Plus a little more…
Remember 2019? When you would have something planned for 7 out of 7 nights for weeks and weeks in a row and none of us would bat an eye? Saying yes to everything because why the hell wouldn’t you?
I’ve officially had 4 whole weeks of “nonstop fun” and my liver and I find ourselves at an impasse.
Family vacation, bachelorette party style birthday celebration, a promising first date that turned out to just be a mediocre first date, friends visiting from out of town, my credit card screaming for mercy. I’d like to say I’m not complaining, but it sure sounds like I am.
These last few weeks, if not the whole of June, are really driving home the fact that…
I. Am. Thirty.
How do I know this?
The mai tais make you sleep horribly.
You crave the morning walk when you don’t get it.
You bring 2-3 separate toiletry bags on family vacation with the entirety of your nighttime routine.
The voice memos you send to your friends after dates talk more about boundaries than about how cute or not cute he was.
Those boundaries come with absolutely zero shame or guilt.
Water. Please. I need more water.
Conversations at birthday parties revolve around cash budgets, self-worth and negotiations for competitive compensation packages.
The wine makes you sleep horribly.
The value and treasure of getting to spend time with friends who have now somehow been around for 20+ years makes all of the driving to and from LA, two drink (TWO DRINK!) hangovers, blown out budgets, and lack of sleep like the world’s biggest no brainer.
The margaritas make you sleep horribly.
I find myself less and less shocked by the world and it’s truly wild (understatement) choices, surprises and tragedies. That is a newsletter I’m too worn out to write today. But for all its intricacies, I’m happier being the 2022 version of myself than the 2019 one by a long friggin shot. I’m glad to feel more like myself than ever — a single, smart, capable woman who knows what she wants and what she deserves. Not without any insecurity or fear, but wow, a whole lot less.
A woman who at this very moment wants and deserves a very long nap.