Hello. Nice of you to drop by again.
Today, the letter C brings you another delicious beverage usually associated with New Year’s and the rich and famous.
I was fortunate enough to have one of these years ago in Boston at a wedding at a private club downtown. It was delicious, but again, a little above my pay grade.
The Champagne Cocktail is a classic—with a hint of added flavor from spirits, bitters, and citrus peels. Many of the finer bars and restaurants have their own variations of this recipe served worldwide.
How To Make It Yours
INGREDIENTS
- 1 sugar cube
- Angostura bitters
- Champagne
- Lemon or orange twist, for garnish
Method
This one is probably one of the easiest to make. Soak the sugar cube in Angostura bitters and drop into a champagne flute. Top with a luxury champagne or a sparkling wine. Garnish with a lemon or orange twist, and voila!
Champagne Cocktail is also the title of one of my Cocktails for You novels. It’s a Christmas story, one based on the trouble I had years ago trying to find a specific doll for my daughter. If you’ve ever had trouble finding the perfect gift for a child, you’ll empathize with Ronnie.
Do you believe in Christmas magic?
When life gave Ronnie Daniels lemons, instead of lemonade, the single mother learned to make Lemon Drops.
This Christmas, times are tougher than ever, and Ronnie’s number one priority is making the holiday as normal as possible for her five-year-old daughter. All Dottie wants from Santa is a Famous American Ballerina doll. The problem is not only are they expensive, but they’re impossible to find.
After another failed attempt to secure one of the dolls, in her frustration, Ronnie sends a scathing letter to the company, Thomas Toys. As the doll’s manufacturer, one advertising a product they don’t have on hand and can’t deliver before Christmas, it’s their fault that her daughter’s dreams won’t come true.
When the company’s new CEO comes into the bar to apologize for the mishap and try to make amends, Ronnie refuses to listen to him, not just because of Dottie, but they have a complicated history. Determined to fix this, Wyatt won’t back down, and before long the doll isn’t the only thing Dottie and Ronnie want for Christmas.
Champagne Cocktail is available exclusively from Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08Q4LJPCD
Excerpt from Champagne Cocktail:
Black Friday
This was the last straw! Wishing I could throw myself on the ground and indulge in a good old-fashioned temper tantrum, complete with kicking, screaming, and fist pounding—maybe even a little teeth gnashing and biting—I did the adult thing and straightened my spine. Inhaling deeply to slow my heartbeat and breathing, praying I wouldn’t break down in tears in front of everyone, I wrapped my shattered soul in a cloak of dignity and indignation. A strong offense was the best defense, right?
I stared at my nemesis, the expertly coifed and manicured salesclerk who was as out of place in Toys as I would be in Jewelry.
“Why on earth would your store advertise that you have the doll in stock if you don’t? Isn’t that false advertising?”
As a bartender, I dealt with difficult customers on a regular basis. Soothe and schmooze, but Miss Uncongeniality here wasn’t helping. The haughty salesclerk was making me feel more and more inadequate by the minute, as if her inability to provide me with what I wanted was somehow my fault.
She eyed me, her pursed lips and furrowed brow clearly showing how unimpressed she was with my lack of makeup, wool hat, snow boots, sweatpants, and old winter jacket.
Okay. I’ll admit I wasn’t at my best at the moment, but who would be? I’d gotten up at the ungodly hour of four, packed up my five-year-old and dropped her off at the sitters, and had driven more than three hours from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh to be here when the store opened at nine. I’d frozen in line with another fifty or so people tackling the rain and wind—I’d handled the fog on the drive here—waiting for the damn doors to open. Once they did, I’d used every bit of athletic ability I possessed, leaping over slow moving shoppers and the ends of counters in my best Olympic hurdler fashion, taking the escalator two steps at a time to get to the toy department only to stare at an empty shelf. Not a single Famous American Ballerina doll in sight. I unzipped my parka. The more annoyed I was, the warmer I became.
The woman cocked a perfectly arched eyebrow at the baggy sweatshirt I’d grabbed off the chair and shook her head. Maybe it wasn’t the cleanest but let her do better in the dark.
“No, ma’am, it isn’t.”
I didn’t even remember what I’d asked her but being called ma’am sent me rocketing in the wrong direction. My Aunt Wynn, well-loved and as crusty as she could be, had been a ma’am. I was a missus at best, and right now, I was on the verge of a complete meltdown. This couldn’t be happening. Not this year. Damn it!
“The Black Friday Sale information was sent out weeks ago. Unfortunately, Thomas Toys is unable to fill orders for the Famous American Ballerina dolls at this time. The dolls will be available in six to eight weeks. I can give you a rain check for the sale price when it does come in.”
“How wonderful!” Being called ma’am was bad enough, but this just added insult to injury. “That’s only two to four weeks too late for Christmas.” I wanted to tell her where to shove her rain check but seeing the curious looks on the faces of the other shoppers, I swallowed my words.
“Perhaps your daughter would be interested in another of the Thomas Toys’ dolls we have on sale? Why don’t you let me show you a few?”
With a heartfelt, “No, thanks,” I ignored her pinched lipped annoyance and retraced my steps to the parking lot.
“Great, just absolutely frigging great,” I mumbled as I started the engine on my old beat-up Ford and headed back to Philadelphia, tears of frustration dribbling down my cheeks. How the hell was I supposed to make this a perfect Christmas for Dottie if the toymaker had screwed up?
The only Christmas wish my baby had was for a ballerina doll that spun on pointed toes the way she did in her ballet classes. While we both missed Aunt Wynn, the first time I’d seen her face light up since the funeral had been four weeks ago, and I would do everything in my power to see it happen again.
Dottie had been watching one of her favorite children’s shows when the ad for the new Famous American Ballerina dolls came on.
“Mommy, that’s what I want Santa to bring me this year. Look, their legs can be moved into position, just like a real ballerina. Aren’t they beautiful?”
They were also sinfully expensive—as were all Thomas Toys—the old “Quality is our Touchstone” motto the excuse for what I considered price gouging. Costly or not, at that moment I’d sworn that if that was what Dottie wanted, it was what she would get. I’d managed to put away enough for one of them—assuming I could find the damn thing.
Each time Dottie watched her favorite program, those dolls danced across the screen and brought me to my boiling point. So, the manufacturer was to blame for all of this?
Why wasn’t I surprised? The Thomas family and I went way back. I’d attended high school with the privileged twins, and the experience hadn’t been a pleasant one. What I wouldn’t give to come face to face with Wyatt C. Thomas, Senior, CEO, and tell him exactly what I thought of him and his company.
After overcoming years of painful shyness, like my daughter, there were times when I lacked a social filter—I said whatever popped into my head without considering the consequences. At the moment, all of my fury centered on one man and the fact that he was ruining our Christmas. As I pulled on to the highway, the fog now lifted, the idea grew, and I decided to tell him exactly what I thought of him and his marketing practices. Using my phone’s Bluetooth, I settled in to vent.
Have a Happy Easter! Looking forward to seeing you on Monday!
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Living the Dream 