5:00 Fridays

Since I played the Indian card (coined by my friend Erin), I figured I’d stick with that theme this week.

I’m no beer connoisseur but I know I’m generally not a Coors Light kind of gal. Well, if Bird and Deal are particularly whiny or petulant I might succumb to whatever is within reach, Coors Light included. All that acrimony can make a girl pretty durn cantankerous. Trust me. I speak from experience. In fact, I was such a crab apple sourpuss last night that I wrote the boys apology notes sprinkled with scented marker hearts because I felt so bad. Not a proud parenting moment, but I am finding fewer and fewer of those this time of year. Funny that the stress of making Christmas perfect and just-so turns me into such an impatient bitch. Next year I’m considering going to Tahiti for the holidays and forego all this candy making, cookie baking, gift buying, light stringing, stocking stuffing stress. What does this have to do with beer?

Everything.

Did you hear me? I have children. Basic math and physics lesson here. Pay attention.

2 boys + 1 mom = basket case

Children drive you to drink.

There will be a pop quiz next Friday.

When I was 18 years old I went to India with my dad. We stayed in some pretty posh places, including where the movie Octopussy was filmed. Seriously, what was Ian Fleming smoking (or stroking) when he penned that title? I almost can’t say it aloud. Perhaps a more fitting name for that nut job woman who birthed eight babies last year? Geesh, now I’m all flustered and off track. Where was I?

Beer. India. 1986.

I was a world traveler. Young. Footloose. Fancy free. Worldly. Daring. Too-cool-for-school.

I drank beer. Legally.

I have fond memories of ordering up a Kingfisher at the Lake Palace Hotel bar. I was stunned by how the epaulet adorned waiter made the opening of a simple bottle top and pouring of liquid gold into a frosted crystal goblet such a grand gesture. I was 18 and easily impressed. That was before I even knew the beer was brewed in copper urns back in the day. Keep in mind that “back in the day” in India means something slightly different than it does here. I’m not talking 1972, folks.

I’m 41 now but still serve up Kingfisher when I have friends over for a good home cooked Indian meal. It’s not fancy. It’s not pretentious. It’s not complex. But it is a gilded symbol over the arch I walked through on my way to adulthood. Join me on the lovely stroll that hasn’t yet ended. You can fish with kings too.

Namaste.

Kingfisher

Pour into a frosted glass, preferably with a stem instead of a handle.

(Image from Rocky of Hoppsy.com)