A Whiskey Soaked Night

By Mary Anna Violi |@MaryAnnaVioli

   Last night I had a curious dream. My somnambulistic state was rendered further novel by the fact that I rarely dream. 

   I dreamt about drinking Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey. 

My opaque state of sleep seemed also to grapple with the fact that I’m not much of a drinker. The odd glass of wine with dinner, the social drink of liquor [I do fancy the orange notes of Grand Marnier], and perhaps a mixed drink with family and friends, is about all I indulge in with spirits.

   Yet last night in my dream-state, I shared a flight of whiskey with my friend who actually introduced me to my first taste Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey. We were then asked by the bartender to rate the various whiskeys of the flight. I rated the citrus whiskey the highest on my card. In my waking life, I have never imbibed a citrus whiskey, cucumber vodka [I like a good French 75] and orange vodka, yes, but not citrus whiskey.

   How strange this morning that I woke up not only remembering that dream, but also wondering if a citrus whiskey really existed! The weather saw fit to be teeth-chattering cold again today, which meant I was less than inclined to travel to a local liquor store and determine if I could purchase a small bottle of citrus whiskey. Again, this in itself would have been a rare occurrence for me. Neither a barfly nor a frequenter of liquor stores am I. 

  Maybe I should do a Google search…be right back…Okay. The Internet is full of citrus whiskey and recipes on how to make them, too.

   I hadn’t classified Grand Marnier and Cointreau in the citrus whiskey category because they are refined liquors, or so I thought. I believe I will hang on to my euphoric notion of Grand Marnier and Cointreau. In fact, I’ll have a shot of Grand Marnier this evening after my humble Ash Wednesday dinner.

   Ciao for now.

Jane Austen, My Hero

This is my copy of Persuasion from one of several English classes I took with Professor Susan Gubar at IU Bloomington. – http://www.tangledpasta.net

By Mary Anna Violi | @MaryAnnaVioli

It was 200 years ago yesterday that my literary muse Jane Austen died at age 41, in Winchester, Hampshire, England. She is, in fact, buried in Winchester Cathedral. By 41 years of age, she had written books that hold us spellbound even today. Jane Austen’s work should be outdated, but that is not the case. Her work is timeless, her female heroes we long to imitate such as Emma Woodhouse, Elizabeth Bennett, or my personal favorite, Anne Elliot. I love reading Pride and Prejudice, too, and though I lose patience in Emma with Emma’s selfishness, in the end, I admire how she acknowledges her self-centeredness, repents, and becomes worthy of Mr. Knightley’s love.

Then there are the male heroes, like Fitzwilliam Darcy, who most readers swoon over, George Knightley, who guides Emma or tries to, and Captain Frederick Wentworth, my hero of choice. Persuasion is also my favorite of Austen’s novels. Published posthumously, Persuasion is a novel of maturity, of wisdom that comes from experience and lives longer lived. In Persuasion it is Captain Wentworth who learns to appreciate the steadiness of character and the constancy of love, instead of Austen’s other female protagonists. Anne Elliot proved a most together person of integrity. She taught her great love Captain Wentworth, instead of the other way around as in her other novels.

Jane Austen might have been gratified to know that England plans to initiate a new ten-pound note currency with her picture on it in September 2017. As much as I laud the British for applauding her greatness in a monetary manner, particularly ironic since Jane Austen lacked money in the last years of her life, her presence on the ten-pound note will keep her presence in front of millions of people for years. Maybe the money note will pique interest in more reading of her books, which she would have liked.

However, I take issue yesterday with Google not placing a Jane Austen animated puzzle or cartoon on its search engine page. Google seems to give a nod to all sorts of illustrious people, both dead and alive, but on the anniversary of Austen’s death, Google did nothing. I felt it to be a glaring omission. Her birthdate was December 16, 1775. Perhaps Google will offer praise to her on her this December on the 242nd anniversary of her birth. I, for one, will raise my cup of tea in honor of Jane Austen multiple times throughout the year, particularly when I read, re-read, and re-read her books.

Ciao for now.