From Lenten Ashes So Does the Phoenix Rise

As readers of this blog may recall, or at least may have noticed when perusing his blogger profile, Reggie is a self-confessed, "somewhat observant" Episcopalian.  During his lifelong membership in that particular denomination he has noticed that there is is one character trait that virtually all Episcopalians share in common, aside from their religious affiliation.  And that is a pronounced fondness for drink.

A well-appointed drinks tray is one
of the great pleasures of being a grownup

Episcopalians' willingness to indulge in imbibulous activities is so well known that members of certain abstemious denominations derisively refer to Episcopalians as "Whisky-palians." I've even heard some sneer, "Oh, right, you're the guys where 'when two are gathered together' a fifth will soon appear!" and then burst into peals of self-satisfied laughter.

So what is wrong with a drink among friends, I ask?  Or alone at home, for that matter?  And who made up the rule that one should wait until five o'clock before starting to drink?  As MD used to say when reaching for the decanter when I was growing up, "It's five o'clock somewhere!"

Reggie's pre-dinner cocktail of choice is a very dry and very cold Beefeater gin martini, served up, with an olive or two.  He has written about his fondness for martinis often enough that a number of his readers, most notably the Ancient, have commented on it, and not always in an entirely complimentary manner, he might add.

A perfectly made martini is a
vision of loveliness, indeed!

When pondering what to give up for Lent this year, I recalled the admonishments of Rectors past that one should select something to give up that is truly a meaningful sacrifice.  It is easy to give up something that one engages in only rarely, if at all.  To that end it would hardly be a sacrifice for Reggie to give up playing football during Lent, a sport he hasn't played since he was a boy, and even then engaged in only with great reluctance, if not misery.

So this year, while sitting in a pew on Ash Wednesday at Saint Bartholomew's Church on Park Avenue, I decided to make the supreme sacrifice and give up the one habit I truly adore and which the absence of in my daily life would leave me feeling deprived, if not in physical pain.

Yes, Dear Reader, Reggie has given up drinking martinis for Lent.

As with so many resolutions—such as when one goes on a diet or vows to increase the frequency of one's exercise regimen—Reggie's resolve to abstain from imbibing martinis was steadfast on the first day of his commitment, and nary a drop of gin passed his lips—nor did he long for it.  It helped that he dined at home that evening, where no gin bottle lurked to tempt him (we long ago decided to confine our martini drinking during the week to when dining in restaurants—which might explain why we eat out so often).  But the next night was not so easy.  For that evening we met our dear friend Jasper Lambert at a restaurant for dinner.  And it was there that Habit reared her seductive head and pleaded with Reggie to dispense with such foolishness and order the delicious, ice-cold martini he so craved.  "What harm could it do?" she soothingly whispered in my ear.  And as Christ was tempted, so was I.  But just when I was on the verge of giving into Habit's siren call, a brilliant solution presented itself to me.  It was a miracle.

"Eureka!" I cried, "I've got it!  I don't need to drink a martini, I can drink something else!"  And so I jubilantly ordered a rye Manhattan, another great favorite cocktail of mine and a most delicious and satisfying alternative to a gin martini.

Gentlemen may prefer blondes,
but they marry brunettes!

And so, like the Phoenix rising from the ashes, I have renewed confidence that I shall indeed remain steadfast in my Lenten resolution to dispense with martinis.  And to assist me in my resolve I have stocked our cabinets with a sufficient quantity of rye, vermouth, bitters, and maraschino cherries to ensure that I shall be able to stand up on Easter morning and look myself in the eye in the mirror and proclaim with heartfelt, joyous honesty, "Yes, I did it!"

And for that Reggie is most grateful.

Tell me, what did you give up for Lent this year?