Of fog and limoncello

Home-made limoncello is a wonderful thing. Sweet, fragrant, refreshing and all vodka. More than a little leaves those imbibing in a wonderful fog of well being and happiness. In a soft-focus world, everything is inviting, everyone is accepting, we are pretty and witty and charmed, oh my!

But beware the limoncello. Like those Long Island Teas I used to swill after a horrible day at work, you won't know what hit you until it's too late. I am a postergirl for the cause. Some, I'm sure, would say I have a problem. Mostly though, my friends and I just liked to escape once in a while, making memories dappled in fog and bright. Nights at the drive-in, sharing and sampling. All night band practice wrap-up at 4am. Concerts at an oft-visited venue where the bar-keep saw you at the door and had your drink ready before your hand was even stamped. Winery picnics on grass and patios with a single, perfect strawberry in every glass of champagne. Cooking six course meals with friends in some bizarre suicide-less recreation the The Big Chill. Sipping port and eating cheese, pears, dark chocolate and walnuts while openly weeping over the annual December airing of It's A Wonderful Life. With foggy memories so rich and sweet, why not enjoy the limoncello?