I have not been going out very often. This is highly unlike me. I used to go out pretty much every night, even school nights, in search of live music and/or good company. Often I'd spend too much money buying everyone drinks, and other times I'd end up on stage with whatever band was playing, and would then drink for free. It evened out in the end (or so I thought).
Since I've had to tighten my pecuniary belt in recent months, I've blogged about the wonders and woes of cooking at home, sometimes the delicious treats that come with it (tons of homemade bread and a to-die-for Indian recipe), as well as the unfortunate side affects (leftovers and more dishes than I can stand). Recently, however, I have discovered another ill affect of not being an active socializer: my home bar is almost empty.
Now, I love being a grown up. Ten years in, the joys of being carded and being of age have not worn off. I love that I can eat cookies for breakfast and not ask permission to go to Amsterdam for the weekend. Being a grownup rocks.
One of my favorite things about being a grownup is having a bar at home. I've worked for years to acquire various bourbons, vodkas, liqueurs, and accessories, and my bar has always pleased me. I've got some Quarter-Cask Laphroaig that I got in Scotland, never fewer than fives bourbons (currently ranging Very Old Barton to Eagle Rare), lots of the strange liqueurs you read about in cocktail recipe books, and even angostura bitters and similar bizarre ingredients.
Having not been out socially on any regular basis in, oh I don't know, six months at least, however, I've discovered that my pride-and-joy bar is down to about a shot of everything, except a full bottle of crappy vermouth, some creme de menthe, and an unopened bottle of mango rum left here by a roommate with questionable taste. Even the blue caraçao is empty, owing to that time we had friends over and absolutely needed blue margaritas. That's part of the fun ... being able to make a perfect Manhattan for your guests.
Anyway, in retrospect, I'm not sure that staying in saved me all that much money, as now I've got an empty bar that I can't afford to replace all at once. Yet again the question lingers: to pay my 1st quarter estimate taxes? Or to stock the bar? Or, the usual, to go to Paris? Or maybe just head back to the Monkey Wrench with my Frequent Flier credit card and buy enough drinks to get me to Paris. Then maybe I could get some of that crazy absinthe for the bar.
Since I've had to tighten my pecuniary belt in recent months, I've blogged about the wonders and woes of cooking at home, sometimes the delicious treats that come with it (tons of homemade bread and a to-die-for Indian recipe), as well as the unfortunate side affects (leftovers and more dishes than I can stand). Recently, however, I have discovered another ill affect of not being an active socializer: my home bar is almost empty.
Now, I love being a grown up. Ten years in, the joys of being carded and being of age have not worn off. I love that I can eat cookies for breakfast and not ask permission to go to Amsterdam for the weekend. Being a grownup rocks.
One of my favorite things about being a grownup is having a bar at home. I've worked for years to acquire various bourbons, vodkas, liqueurs, and accessories, and my bar has always pleased me. I've got some Quarter-Cask Laphroaig that I got in Scotland, never fewer than fives bourbons (currently ranging Very Old Barton to Eagle Rare), lots of the strange liqueurs you read about in cocktail recipe books, and even angostura bitters and similar bizarre ingredients.
Having not been out socially on any regular basis in, oh I don't know, six months at least, however, I've discovered that my pride-and-joy bar is down to about a shot of everything, except a full bottle of crappy vermouth, some creme de menthe, and an unopened bottle of mango rum left here by a roommate with questionable taste. Even the blue caraçao is empty, owing to that time we had friends over and absolutely needed blue margaritas. That's part of the fun ... being able to make a perfect Manhattan for your guests.
Anyway, in retrospect, I'm not sure that staying in saved me all that much money, as now I've got an empty bar that I can't afford to replace all at once. Yet again the question lingers: to pay my 1st quarter estimate taxes? Or to stock the bar? Or, the usual, to go to Paris? Or maybe just head back to the Monkey Wrench with my Frequent Flier credit card and buy enough drinks to get me to Paris. Then maybe I could get some of that crazy absinthe for the bar.
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