Gin, Grapefruit, and Gedrick (Or How to Make a Spiked Gin and Grapefruit Shake)

Sometimes when I’ve been spending too much time staring at my fat arm in the mirror and listening to The National, I realize I’m being a fragile, self-absorbed fool of the most neurotic order. When this happens, or when I have just generally lost the will to live, I put on Iron Eagle and cheer myself up. It took about 25 years and hundreds of viewings to figure out why I love the movie. Sure, it has a killer soundtrack, and massive explosions, and, yes, I have been in love with Jason Gedrick since I was nine, but it goes well beyond that.

I love Jason Gedrick so much that I watched Luck on HBO even though I had absolutely no idea what was happening on the show. Ever. (Photo courtesy of IMdB)

What I love about Iron Eagle is that it’s a story about a young man (played by Gedrick) who refuses to sit idly by when his father, a US air force pilot, has been sentenced to die in a foreign land. Instead of accepting that his own country has left his father to die at the hands of the enemy, Doug figures out how to basically invade the country by himself with the help of his friends. Sure, it’s wildly unrealistic, but so is the entire premise of Pretty Woman and people like that movie. (I am NOT one of those people. It’s OK if you are. We can still be internet friends.)

Doug is resourceful, courageous, and absolutely dogged. Sure, he’s a reckless driver and he’s a bit cocky and all that, but he also manages to make feathered hair look sexy somehow, so there is that. AND he has this total “I did it my way” Sinatra-sort of attitude that I have always identified with. (I recently realized it’s because I am a bit of a rebel myself.)

I feel compelled to digress for a moment and explain that I’m not one of those “Ra Ra, America! Let’s Go Blow Up the Middle East” kind of people. In fact, I’m rather peaceable and kind – except when I’m picking up family members up from the airport. Then I think the devil takes hold of me or something and I end screaming, swearing, and honking like a New York City cab driver. I am not proud of this, but we all have our faults. I digress….

So, anyway, there’s a great moment in the movie after Doug’s wingman, Chappy, has crashed into the Mediterranean and he’s heading into hostile territory without any air support. Alone and facing a cruel enemy, he plays the tape Chappy made for him in case of emergency. Chappy’s voice says, “Right now you’re probably filled with all the doubts in the world, but I’m going to tell you something. God doesn’t give people things he doesn’t want ‘em to use. And he gave you the touch. It’s a power you have inside you down there deep where you keep your guts, boy. It’s all you need to blast your way in and get back what they took from you. Your dad’s just sittin’ there waitin’ for a miracle, and if you fly your heart out, you can give him one. It’s up to you.”

This shit absolutely speaks to my soul. For real.

Here’s the scene:

So, the point of all of my rambling is to say that I’ve had a lot of time lately to think about what my “touch” is — or what my skills are — and how I can apply them to my next endeavor. I’m in the process of piecing all of that together at the moment. For now I’m just going to tell you how to make a spiked gin and grapefruit shake before I get too philosophical because one of my skills just might be bartending. (Kidding.)

These shakes are probably not a good idea if you’ve been staring at your fat arm, but maybe after a few of them you’ll forget you have arms at all.

If you are going to make them, I suggest putting on your happy movie and turning off The National because it’s probably a bad idea to drink away your sorrows… or at least that’s what the American Psychological Association would say.

Gin and Grapefruit Spiked Shake

1 ½ C vanilla ice cream
4 oz fresh squeezed grapefruit juice (from half of one grapefruit)
3 oz gin

Pour the contents into the blender and blend. You can make this a few hours ahead and put it in the freezer because the alcohol will prevent the shake from freezing completely.

The recipe is based on a pin from Better Homes and Gardens. Enjoy!

This Gin and Grapefruit Spiked Shake is almost as yummy as Jason Gedrick.

ALMOST….

Do you have a happy movie?

My Evening of Epic Fails (Or I Screw Up My First Attempt at Cake Pops)

“I don’t think people understand what you’re saying when you say Albus.” My mother said as she sipped her sauvignon blanc.

“Well, that’s why I introduce him as Albus Dumbledore,” I replied.

“Not everyone knows who that is.”

“Of course they do. Albus is a mighty wizard!” I exclaimed indignantly. “Besides, it’s Latin for ‘white.’ I like Latin.” (I did NOT like Latin when I was translating the entire Aeneid into English, but this is not important now.)

“I think they think you’re saying Elvis.”

This from the woman who named me Anika? I’ve been called everything from Anita to Shaniqua over the years, and I’ve been correcting people on the pronunciation of my name since Kindergarten, so she hardly has a foot to stand on when it comes to weird names for offspring – human or dog.

“Well, I nearly named him Chappy Sinclair, but I changed my mind at the last minute.”

By look on her face, it was clear this name would not have met with her standards either. (She does not appreciate Iron Eagle any more than Harry Potter, apparently.)

She’s actually right that people have called my dog everything from “Alvin” to “Elvis,” but I had no intention of conceding this. The little girl downstairs squeals, “Elbis!” every time she sees him. (Even this hybrid is probably toddler for Elvis.)

I should also mention that she doesn’t approve of Woodley’s name either. She thinks it’s confusing I named a fluffy female after a 265-pound linebacker. She’s probably not wrong.

She may have given me a hard time about my dogs’ names, but she did buy me this fabulous pink cake pop pan from Sur La Table, so there’s that.

My fancy new cake pop pan, courtesy of my mother.

I must say, my first attempt at using my new toy was even more disastrous than my attempts at dog-naming.

I was hoping to make Hedwig-like owls that looked like this:

See these perfect owls from Bakerella? Yeah, mine looked nothing like them.

I didn’t even get to the decorating part, because I ended up with THIS mess.

Albus is ignoring the Chernobyl-like disaster in the foreground and heading straight for the un-sullied cake pops on the counter. Even my dog doesn’t think the others are edible.

I think my first mistake was using a strawberry cake mix for the cake pops, as it was not nearly dense enough. (I’m starting to believe “cake” is a bit of a misnomer and the base of these balls is really more of a cake/cookie lovechild.) My next mistake was purchasing Ghirardelli white chocolate chips to coat my cake-y creations. Despite adding shortening to make the melted mess thinner, it was just too thick and sticky to properly coat the crumbly cake.

Desperate to find another coating substance, I scoured the internet this morning and discovered another option on Bakerella. It turns out it was hidden within another one of my pins. (Oops. I probably should have READ the post first instead of simply pinning the photo at first sight.) Bakerella suggests using Merckens Candy Coating for the pops. I guess I’ll be looking for a new cake pop recipe and then dipping those in Merckens next time.

I’m not really sure what to do with my cake pop rejects. I’m leaning toward feeding them to the squirrels downstairs even if they are the sworn enemies of my poorly named dogs.

Oh, and don’t get me started on what went wrong with THIS watermelon shark carving last night….

This Jedi-eating watermelon monster was supposed to be a shark. Alas, my Shun Sumo Santoku knife was just too big for the finer details.

Have you tried making cake pops? Did you make an epic mess like me?