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La Dolce Vita
(a life that is full of pleasure and luxury)

By Dahnini or Dahnitini
Spirits Alchemist
Bon Devant
© 2023, all rights reserved.

It is officially summer. How apropos would it be for a popular Italian drink, a Limoncello Spritz! With or without alcohol, let’s do this!  👍

Non-alcohol Limoncello Spritz

The traditional Limoncello Spritz is a delightful combination of limoncello, prosecco, and club soda that will transport you to an Italian lemon grove. Add some mint and lemon slices for color, and you’ve got a simple cocktail that is also easy on the eyes. For my non-alcohol and no sugar Limoncello Spritz, just replace the alcohol version (original recipe), with a non-alcohol base for the limoncello, a non-alcohol dry sparkling champagne, club soda and liquid organic Stevia to taste.

Note: view and enlarge the included picture here, of the exact products I used.

Ingredients

5 lemons🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋  (just the peels, make lemonade or something lemony with the rest) 😊
1 L (liter) of alcohol-free vodka (33.81402 ounces – full bottle)

Directions

Zest the lemons 🍋 (with either a vegetable peeler or a paring knife). Be careful that you don’t cut in too deeply, as you don’t want the white bit. Use the rest to make lemonade or something lemony. 🍋😎
Put the zest in a large, clean jar and pour over the non-alcoholic vodka.
Cover with a tightly fitting lid and leave for three weeks, shaking the jar each day!

La Dolce Vita
(Limoncello Spritz, aka a Lemony— “life that is full of pleasure and luxury)🍋

3 ounces (2 jiggers) of either Prosecco (what the actual drink calls for), or dry non-alcohol champagne
2 ounces (1 jigger and less than ½ of a jigger) of limoncello or non-alcohol no sugar limoncello
1 ounce (less than 1 jigger) of club soda
Mix
Fill a wine glass or tumbler ⅔ rds. of the way full of ice🧊
Add drops of liquid organic Stevia (one drop at a time), to desired taste and sweetness
Stir
Garnish with a slice of lemon🍋 and some mint🌿

ENJOY! 😉 Sip your sip responsibly, as if you were on the shores of Portofino, Italy by day or at night, listening to Andrea Bocelli. 😊

By Dahni & I-Magine
© 2023, all rights reserved

From my Work in Progress: ‘The Gathering Place Cook Book’, under the category of: beverages, ‘Sips with Susan’

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‘”Belly Up to the Bar…”

By Dahni
©️  2023, all rights reserved

By the way, the photograph above is real, and really how it would look today. There’s about 200 years of memorabilia on the walls.  I suppose one could sit at a table and play cards or you could “belly up to the bar…” But no music or television is ever played, so be ready for some conversation.

The complete line is, “Belly Up to the Bar Boys (or gals).”

That’s the line to include gals, but this was the line. No one seems to know for sure where this came from, but literal or not it is acceptable to mean, “push through”. But it is quite often used with another term of suspected drinking origin, “bottoms up,” when glasses are raised and you toast. Both are familiar from the backdrop of saloons in the movie genre of westerns. In those saloons, the only place you could sit was at a table for those playing cards. The bar was a long piece of raised wood with a flat top. To increase capacity, these early bars did not have stools. So, you either stood up or stood and leaned into and against the bar. Then there is another idea, which can fit here- “First come; first served.” This is my story, and I can “serve” — add to it and embellish as I deem appropriate to make what points I am intending because, I am “first.” 😊

If you were first to arrive at bar in a saloon, you would for certain, stand or lean against the bar, closest to the bartender to pay and be served by the same. One or maybe two or more tenders would handle everyone at the bar. To quicken service and cut down their walking, they were skilled at sliding filled glasses from one end of the bar to a catching hand at the other. People playing cards would often pay for a whole bottle of something in advance, so not have to wade through the crowd to get another drink. If you preferred say whiskey 🥃 over beer 🍺 and were not there to sit at a table to play cards, 🃏 and you did not want to wait for the bartender to service you for another drink or more drinks, you just might say the first time, “Leave the bottle.”

Everyone else just had to wait their turn until the bartender could get to them. Now enter our first line- “Belly up to the bar boys (gals too).” I suppose anyone could say this, but it most likely was the voice of, the bartender. Its basic meaning was and is, “push through.” And as one would “push through” a crowded saloon towards where the tender stood behind the bar, one would likely rub their belly up against other bellies, tying to get to the front of the bar.

Remember that one person at the bar, which was “first come; first serve?” If they were planning on being there for awhile, they certainly didn’t want to give up the best position to be served from. There was one exception— either the drinks would be “on the house” or the “drinks were on you.” (you were buying, at least a round of drinks for everyone.

For everyone involved, this was the most efficient way to serve and to be served. And it was a nice thing to do for others.

So all the above is the background to the dream I awoke from this morning. Oh the place was real to me, as were the faces. I had been there and had been with them in my dream and in reality, many times before.

There was a familiarity and camaraderie. We knew each other, at least by familiar characteristics. By “we knew each other” it is meant that by seeing each other again and again, we knew who we were by our appearance. Perhaps there was a certain hat worn, shirt, jacket, facial hair, hair color, scar, blemish, tattoo or some other identifying marks, which separated us from one another. That’s how we knew and know each other and often on a first name basis. Besides those of us which have come here over the years, there were also those that worked here or used to that drew and draw all of us. There is Dad, the original owner that wore himself out going up and down narrow and loose stairs with cases of liquor and beer on a dolly. Then there is Mom, the other original owner and wife of Dad, in charge of all food— made and served and the greeter of everyone, which come here. This is what we think of them, as our extended Dad and Mom and how we address them. Then there was their son Dave, who inherited the responsibility from his mom and dad, and he used to run this place for many years and died several years ago. His absence left and leaves a hole that could still be seen in each one of our hearts. Still we came. Still we come. Still, we will keep coming.

It seems almost like every year, there is another one of us missing. But as I walk in or any one of us come inside, we acknowledge one another with a wink, a nod, a word or some gesture. We know each other and we uphold those that are no longer here, as if they will always be among us.

We “belly up to the bar…” and buy one another drinks. Sometimes “drinks are on the house.” Sometimes “drinks were on them.” And sometimes, “drinks were on me.” Our individual draw was to have a drink or some drinks and it does not get any simpler than that. Contrary to popular ideas, most people do not drink alone or come to a saloon or a bar to get drunk.

Maybe, maybe we wanted the entertainment of what is called, ‘The Bar Slide?” Some wanted the regular slide and others, something more unique like the following — 😂🤣

But when we enter in, we acknowledge one another, respect one anther and buy one another drinks because, we share something together and that is the knowledge and the comfort that we are not alone in this life. It gets no more profound than this.

No matter who we are or where we come from, what is the color of our skin, what country we may be from, our accent, whether we are rich or poor, religious or not matters at all. It does not matter however far are the degrees of separation, which separate us. We do not judge. Why do we we keep coming back? There is no other reason to understand, than this.

So, we “belly up to the bar boys” (and gals) because, we are not alone. We show our gratitude and celebrate life by “bottoms up” raising a toast to life, ourselves, to each other and those no longer among us, as if they always are.

So like the neighborhood bar ‘Cheers,’ we go where everyone knows our name. And like the song from the Movie, ‘The Unsinkable Molly Brown,’ we just want something to mean something in the often confusing and complicated and meaningless times in our lives. And we want to share them with others and in so doing, make life better even if for only the moment, for all of us and each of us.

This is unwritten. It is unspoken. Generally it is not clearly shown to untrained eyes and hearts. But here is respect and friendship. Here is love we share together and for one another. And we do this as often and for as long as we can because, we know so well that our days have always been numbered. “So, “This round is on me!”

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‘Santa and his Gnomes?’

By Dahni
©️  2022, all rights reserved

   Rather than disturb your two days of Christmas official 12/25 and observed 12/26 with having to think about much I waitied to share this. But consider some of the things we were taught even as children. For one thing, what if Snow White was with seven gnomes and not seven dwarfs? And instead of the tall pointed eared elves from J.R.R. Tolkien, what if Santa Claus had gnomes?

   I am from Missouri originally. The following was posted in the Springfield Leader & Press which was published from 1933-1987 in Springfield, MO. This article first appeared on November 29, 1935.

MO is the Show Me State by the way. If anyone is convinced the following is true, Missourian are. Check it out for yourself.

“Beginning November 10, 1935, the Springfield Leader & Press began a campaign to assure Springfield children that Santa really does exist. The newspaper started with a letter to Santa contest and then proceeded to hire Captain F. E. Kleinschmidt, an arctic explorer, to travel to the North Pole”.

“Captain Kleinschmidt sent in-depth descriptions of his travels, complete with photographs, to the newspaper. Once he and his wife reached the North Pole, he gave an exhaustive account of all the wonderful, magical things in Santa’s workshop. This culminated in Santa visiting Springfield by train and an appearance at the Electric Theater (later known as the Fox Theater) and a movie by Captain Kleinschmidt. The following article is edited due to its length.”

Santa’s Fairies Busily Working — Explorers are Admitted to Palace and Workshop Where Toys are Made.

Springfield Leader & Press, November 29, 1935, page 4
.
“After a difficult and dangerous journey on behalf of child readers of the Springfield Newspapers, Captain and Mrs. P. E. Kleinschmidt, have actually reached the true and magic home of Santa Claus in the far, far, white north.”

“Here is another report by wireless from Captain Kleinschmidt, describing their adventures in Santa’s castle:”

“We traveled what seemed miles and miles through the gigantic gift shop, but never grew tired looking for there is always something new and marvelous in the toys Santa invents for every Christmas.”

“Finally, Santa said ‘Now let us start at the bottom,’ and he led the way to a moving stairway. Descending we had glimpses of floor after floor of all kinds of rooms where armies of gnomes and fairies were working, shaping wood and steel, assembling, molding, painting and packing things.”

“At last we came to the bottom. The chief gnome and all his fellow-workers wore engineers’ uniforms.”

“This is my great power house,’ Santa explained. ‘You know about the axis of the earth which points to the Polar Star and on which the world spins around. I have connected my machinery with this axis, and the power that spins the earth drives all my machinery, the lathes and saws and drills, for you know it takes a lot of power to manufacture toys for over 50 million children every year…”

“We went up again, this time on an elevator, and as we passed one floor after another, we noticed instead of numbers the names of different countries. On the top floor we read ‘United States’ and at a sign from Santa the gnomes stopped the elevator.”

“Here was a large room with countless desks on which gnomes were writing in books, like a huge library. But they were not story books. They were ledgers numbered and alphabetically arranged. The room was divided into sections and each section bore the name of a state…in which the deeds of children are recorded from year to year.”

“You are sent from Missouri; and here you are,’ Santa laughed and sure enough we found Missouri labeled.”

“Now let’s see,’ said Santa, and he took a book, turned over the pages and to our amazement there was written ‘Springfield Newspapers want to make boys and girls happy in the Ozarks. Send out an expedition to Santa Claus land?’ And there were the names of the boys and girls who had written letters in the Santa Claus contest…I glanced over some of the books marked Missouri and there saw the names of hundreds of Springfield children.”

“The world is increasing in population and getting better all the time, and my work grows larger and larger every year,’ Santa said. ‘It makes me happier the longer I live, but you know,’ and Santa’s eyes twinkled, ‘the children who give me more work and who keep the pens of gnomes the busiest in chalking up good deeds, are the Boy Scouts. Look at that row of books all marked ‘Boy Scouts’. Ever since that organization started, I have had to put on a thousand extra gnomes each year.”

“We were getting tired and our eyes and minds were getting sleepy from all the wonderful sights. Mrs. K. wondered where we were going to sleep for the castle certainly never had expected any guests, and the beds we had seen were so tiny no human being could possibly be in them. But Santa had already provided for our needs.”

“Gnomes and fairies had prepared fairylike bedrooms and our Eskimos stood gaping in wonder when they beheld their quarters…All at once she [Mrs. Kleinschmit] gave a gasp and sat down on the bed laughing until she could not speak. I could not see anything to laugh at but a beautiful eider down blanket covered with silky lace, until she pointed to the foot of the bed. I examined it closely and above all things the beautiful wrought iron legs were thick colored candy sticks. The bed panels that looked like polished bird’s eye maple were taffy full of nuts. What looked like a wonderful mahogany dresser was made of chocolate and the knots were nuts. The mirrors were rock crystal candy. I recalled the fairy tale of Hansel and Gretel and the witch who lived in a gingerbread house, but I never, as a grown up man expected to live in a similar house.”

https://thelibrary.org/blogs/article.cfm?aid=2830

There is more to this than written above. When I can get more information I will share it.