Stirred, Not Shaken: A Poem

I’ve been dabbling in poetry in the evenings, as I settle behind the computer with a martini at the ready and a cat in my lap. Here’s one I think (hope!) my Loyal VLO Minions beloved listeners will might find interesting:

Stirred, Not Shaken

Pour one part of artisanal dry vermouth  
into a cocktail glass,  
accompanied by four parts of an exquisite dry gin.  
Add a splash, if you will, of elderberry liqueur.  
And, if you have some,  
     a drop or two of Roux's homemade maple bitters.  

Stir, gently, then enjoy your Jasontini.  

The precision of the experience matters.  

In one's youth, the thrill of the drink means—  
     cheap mixers,  
     imbalanced ratios,  
     over-indulgence,  
     weak technique,  
     violent shaking,  
     stiff pours,  
     and hangovers.  

As one matures, a drink transitions from "party favor" to "art form"—  
     bespoke mixers,  
     precise measurements,  
     responsible imbibing,  
     careful technique,  
     gentle touches,  
     generous conversation,  
     and clear-headed mornings.  

Stir, don't shake.  

The mark of modern civility  
is preferring quality over quantity   
and insisting on a reasonable portion  
to be savored at length.

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