It’s that time of year again. The fishing rod comes out at dinner parties. He spins the reel while eating breakfast, just to hear that sweet spinning sound. The flies come out at bedtime. He sorts them, admires them, tells me their stories as I read my book. James, you see, is about to make his annual trek to Labrador for a week of fly fishing: Savage treks. Swarms of black flies. Aggressive salmon. Hearty meals.
Meanwhile, I’ve discovered something equally exciting yet far more civilized. It’s bug free. Refreshing but powerful. Effervescent. Thirst quenching. Seasonal. Complex. Mysterious. And like a good fishing trip, afterwards, all that’s left is the memory.
GONE FISHIN’ (at Morris East)
.5oz gin | .5oz Noilly Pratt | .5oz St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur | 1.5oz Honey Dew Melon Shrub | Soda