You know what sucks? Waiting.
Call me an entitled millennial all you want, but sometimes waiting is just too difficult. You feel like you're in limbo, purgatory...
Sometimes it's about stupid, trivial things: waiting in the supermarket checkout line, waiting for the next episode of your favorite show to premier. Other times, it's about something more serious: waiting for a virus outbreak to subside, waiting for a vaccine so you can continue going back to work in person. Sometimes it's more personal and less global: waiting for the phone call that your cat or father-in-law made it through their emergency surgeries on the same day. (If you haven't noticed, I'm speaking from personal experience, and spoiler alert they both made it out fine and are expected to make full recoveries).
My wife and I have very different philosophies on waiting. When it comes to waiting on things that are beyond my control, I fast-forward the coping process to the acceptance phase and enter a state of quiet surrender. My wife, on the other hand, will always go through the seven stages of grief, preparing herself for the worst so when the news is delivered its always a softer blow than she imagined. We will never agree on each other's methods of dealing with things like this, but we will always acknowledge and respect each other's process.
That doesn't negate the fact that waiting is hard. But waiting is incredibly necessary.
Last I heard, the School District of Philadelphia is making moves to have teachers and students re-enter the buildings in a hybrid-model after Thanksgiving. Never mind the fact we teachers and administrators have just spent several weeks (plus our summer) adapting our methods and finding our stride, only to have them changed again. Being that I work at a charter school, we have more freedom in the decision making. When the staff survey went out about our opinions of a hybrid-model or in-person instruction, I loudly (or as loudly as I could via a typed Google Form) expressed my numerous concerns. But dammit, I would be lying if I didn't say that I wish I was in the classroom right now. But I shouldn't be in the classroom right now. For the safety of my students, fellow teachers, administration, and all their collective families, as well as my own, it just isn't the right move.
Watching the presidential debates (if you can call them that) address the argument of whether or not to reopen schools has been trying to say the least. Despite feeling like I finally have the online-teaching thing figured out, I really wish there was a way to be teaching in person. I'm a drama teacher, for crying out loud. But that's just not right.
And furthermore, seeing the countless people roaming about without masks or an attempt to be socially distant, hosting large parties or events that while compliant with CDC guidelines are recipes for super-spreaders quite frankly infuriates me.
We've been at this about seven months now. Mentally, I began dealing with this on day one. Though I remained hopeful, this was out of my control, and just like any other incident without my control, I had to wait. My process of waiting has remained the same: skip to acceptance. There's nothing we can do to change the current social and health climate other than the things we've been told from the beginning. There's no need to pick a fight with science, especially since I'm not a scientific leader.
Stay safe, follow the rules, and turn these lemons into the safest, lemonadeyest lemonade you can.
Oh, and I shaved my hair again.
I'll drink to that.
~c.j.
INFUSED LIQUOR
PREP TIME: 10 minutes
INACTIVE COOK TIME: 2-7 days
YIELD: A shit-ton of liquor
I took to making my own liquor a little while ago, mostly because I tried Averell Damson Gin back when Kevin Sbraga opened up Juniper Commons in Philly and fell in love. When the restaurant went under and became City Diner, the bar manager gifted us a leftover bottle of the cordial, since it wasn't on their service menu. The state-run stores don't sell the stuff, so I took to making my own (even though damson plums aren't easy to find in Philly either). This resulted in a hobby of combining some classic flavors to make my own sippers: plum gin, peach bourbon, strawberry vodka... I recently made a batch of cactus pear vodka and it might be my new favorite thing. You can also add herbs to the mix for extra hebry, floral notes.
INGREDIENTS
3 lbs fruit of choice, roughly chopped
1 c. (200 g) granulated sugar
1 750 mL bottle liquor of choice
DIRECTIONS
In a large bowl, add fruit and sugar. Stir to combine and allow to sit 10 minutes. The sugar will draw out the juices from the fruit and add more flavor.
Pour liquor overtop and stir to dissolve sugar. Cover and allow to sit at room temperature between 2-7 days, stirring once daily and tasting until desired flavor strength is reached (softer juicy fruits like berries will be on the shorter end of the wait time, whereas firmer fruits like plums, peaches, and cherries will take longer. Nevertheless, wait!)
Serve over ice, as a shot, or mixed in a cocktail, such as the one below.
CACTUS PUNCH
PREP TIME: 2 mintues
YIELD: 1 cocktail
Looking for cactus pear in Philly? Hung Vuong Supermarket on Washington Avenue always has them stocked, along with lots of other exciting, hard-to-find ingredients.
INGREDIENTS
1 king cube (or, ya know, regular ice will do)
3 oz homemade cactus pear vodka, using method above
1 oz maraschino liqueur
juice of 1/2 lemon, + lemon twist
DIRECTION
You've waited long enough, no need to break out a shaker. Put king cube in a rocks glass. Add cactus pear vodka, maraschino liqueur, and lemon juice. Stir to mix, then squeeze lemon twist over top and drop in. En-freaking-joy.
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