|San Juan Bautista, Joan de Joanes (cir.1560)|
Jeffrey, this story is entirely appropriate for the season as it begins on Easter and ends around Pentecost.
A few years back we decided to have friends over to our house for Easter dinner rather than following our usual practice of being guests in their homes. But one friend insisted on contributing the lamb and he would not take no for an answer. So, a day or two before Easter, Adonis the Greek appeared at our door bearing his gift of an entire lamb, complete with its head wrapped separately in newspaper.
Okay, I get it, if you’re hosting Easter dinner in Greece there must be lamb. No ifs, no ands, no buts. But heads? Please.
I couldn’t bring myself to cook that thing, and didn’t even know how or where to begin getting a head ready for the oven. I did the only thing I could think of. I stuck it in the freezer. A non frost-free one I might add.
A couple of months later, in June around the time of Pentecost, I thawed the freezer and came across a parcel wrapped in newspaper. I’d forgotten all about it. Inside I found what looked to be the frosted, frozen head of John the Baptist.And it was my fault it had ended up here rather than in its rightful place on the Easter table. I had to find some way to redeem myself. It was still early in the morning for Mykonos—around noon—and the performers crashing at our place from the night before were still asleep. Phyllis Pastore, our headline singer and an institution on the island, was just starting to wake up. I went to her bedroom and stood in the doorway, balancing the lamb’s head on my left shoulder. She was ignoring me and so I started softly humming a tune.
I waited until she’d opened her eyes but had not yet grasped the meaning of my visit. At that instant I stepped forward into her bedroom and in my best Paul Anka impression blared out the lyric I’d been humming, “Put your head on my shoulder…”
I was so proud of myself.
Phyllis had another view of things. She leaped out of bed with a scream that nearly brought the poor lamb back to life.
I was laughing so hard I was beginning to think the other head on my shoulder was laughing too.
Phyllis drew a deep breath to compose herself, and in a perfectly blasé Ethel Merman sort of way said, “Jody, if I were you, I’d keep the new one.”
[Ed. note: I always liked Phyllis’ style.]
Time for a drink, I think. Here’s what we at the Piano Bar call the Flirtini. It’s a lovely champagne cocktail, light in taste and perfect for warm summer evenings.
In a champagne flute, put one ounce elderflower liqueur (St. Germaine is the most well known brand) and 1/2 ounce lemon juice. Top with champagne and voilà you have a refreshing cocktail—and it’s gentle as a lamb.
Remember, that tail is not shaken so if your tastes run to tales that are I suggest SHAKEN: Stories for Japan.