Where can a gal get extract of bourbon?

My friend Matt made me a drink a couple of weekends back: bourbon, ginger ale, lime juice, mint, a sugar cube and ice - you know, to cool it all off and make it perfect for sipping in the backyard.  Just typing the ingredient list sets my salivary glands headlong into a sweet drool.  I made the drink at home and miraculously managed to replicate its golden goodness.  Problem is, thanks to my purgatory in peri-menopause, bourbon (and all of its  alcoholic friends) gives me crazy-ass hot flashes and my hyper-sensitive hypoglycemia turns ginger ale and sugar cubes into glycemic spiking insurgents.  Although on the plus side, I can drink something made of lime juice, mint and ice.  File that away for later.

The sugar's not a problem - I can work around the sugar - club soda, ginger root and stevia can replace the ginger ale and sugar cube.  It's the bourbon.  I want the taste of bourbon without the alcohol.  Obviously I just have to figure out a way to make extract of Bourbon!  Come on Internet - don't let me down!

"How to make extract of bourbon?"

 

I don't want to make bourbon-flavoured vanilla extract - I want to make bourbon extract.

"bourbon extract"

I don't want to buy bourbon extract, but just for the sake of comparison... HOLY CRAP!!!  4 oz of bourbon extract is $8.25?!?

Wait a sec - to get extract, one usually uses alcohol as the liquid vehicle to concentrate the flavour.  How can I concentrate the flavour of bourbon without keeping the alcohol?!?

Do a reduction!!  Okay, no problem...  This sounds good...

"how to cook alcohol out of bourbon"

Take just a moment and let your gaze fall upon #3 in that instruction list... "Quickly touch the flame to the surface of the liquid and remove your hand from the pan."  Shall we place bets to see how long it takes Heather to light herself on fire attempting that manoeuvre?

ALL I WANT IS THE TASTE OF FREAKING BOURBON!!!... 

Okay, wait - just wait!  Extract might actually work!  It offers a highly concentrated taste of whatever flavour you're jonesing for.  Which means you don't need the same amount to give the full flavour of the actual item.  So... 1 tsp of extract of bourbon for flavouring would be equivalent to... no freaking clue, because NO ONE IN CANADA USES EXTRACT OF FREAKING BOURBON!  But Canadians do use Rum extract - which if you're substituting for light rum is a 1:5 ratio - unless you're supposed to use dark rum, in which can you need two times as much rum extract to get the taste of dark rum - in which case you might as well buy the bourbon and deal with the night sweats.  I'm going to err on the less is more side and bet that 1 tsp of bourbon extract might equal 2 tbsp of actual bourbon - which is a full oz of bourbon!   And one tsp of bourbon extract would have only 16% of the alcohol found in actual bourbon - surely to God that couldn't be enough to give me hot flashes! 

Except that I'd have to special order the bourbon extract.  What can I substitute for bourbon right now??

SERIOUSLY??  We're back to vanilla extract?? 

I'm not saying it's even close to bourbon...
but it might just make do until I hit menopause.

They need a warning label for this!

Just a while back, I had a bra-piphany.  I was saved.  I learned that I could spin my bra so that I wouldn't have to do it up in the back, thereby saving me from further damage to the rotator cuff on my right arm and also saving me from having to replace my entire bra collection with front-closure brassieres.  Only took me 35 years of bra wearing to be set straight on this account.

"Bright girl, shame about the stupidity..."

This new-fangled bra spinning worked spectacularly through the late spring... "Hey look at me, not needing my husband or child to help me into my bra!!  Boo yeah!!"

Now though, it's summer, and summer is Strapless Bra season.  The modern strapless bras?  The ones that work?  Have this sticky pseudo-gel stuff (akin to what they use to keep perfume samples in magazines or on the tops of stay-up stockings), on the inside of the underband to keep your girls supported, with minimal re-adjustment of your bra.

Strapless bras have to be tighter around your ribcage than your average bra, so that they'll defy gravity's effects upon your ta-tas.  I put the cups to my back, and tighten the band snugly - this is the time do it up on the furthest hook and eye, you know, just to be safe... and then I try to spin the sucker.

"Oh, for the love of Howard Hughes... Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!!  Sweet merciful Mother of Support!"  I look down, trying to see if I'd actually torn skin from my injured torso.

"What?  What did you do??"  Rissa is now in the doorway.

"Bra burn!  Bra burn!!!"  I point to the offending band with its dangerous gel.  "They need a warning label for this!  How could they not have a warning label for this?!?"

Rissa is biting her lip to keep from laughing.  "Do you need some help?"

I'm a BIG GIRL, I can do this.  It's just a freaking bra... Reach back and... I slump.   "Yes please."

"Asking for help is very mature."

"Shut up."

EEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWW!!!! He's SO old!!

Oh, those iconic 80s dance films.... Quick!  Name the winners!  For me it's three Fs, a D and a W - Fame, Flashdance and Footloose - Dirty Dancing and White Nights.   Rissa had already seen Footloose, Dirty Dancing and White Nights - I got it into my head that she needed to see the other two.  Last weekend it was Flashdance

You know how some 80s movies really stand the test of time and some don't?  I mustn't have seen Flashdance since I rented it in the early 90s - cause man, oh man it's not what I remembered it to be.  Cue Jennifer Beals taking off her welder's helmet and shaking her 80s hair about her shoulders...

Two dance/soft porn moments from that film that will remain embedded on everyone's corneas: the splash of water on Jennifer Beals' boobs as she sits in her chair and the running in place to Maniac while moving her hands all over her upper thighs - or, as is more than likely - the dance double having water splashed all over her boobs and running in place while moving her hands all over her upper thighs.  And may I just ask?  Could they not have found a better freaking wig for the dance double?  Could they not have found a dance double who resembled Jennifer Beals even the tiniest bit??  But I digress...

The hair and fashion styles make me wince, mostly because I can remember wearing some of them myself, but I can't really get into the mocking of the terrible choreography and dialogue because Rissa is freaking out.

"Oh, EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWW!!!  No!  No, no, no, no....  He's so old, he's so old!!!"  Rissa hides her head in the pillow, refuses to come out.  "She's 18!  And he's... he's... SOOOOOOO OLD!!!!  (Nouri was 38 when he made Flashdance.  Jennifer Beals was 20, playing 18.)

Rissa is so wierded out, she almost has palpitations.

Then, in the after their date scene, when Jennifer Beals comes back into the living room of her warehouse loft, lifts up her leather skirt to sit across from Michael Nouri and pulls off her bra from under her off-the-shoulder sweat shirt in way more movements than it's ever taken me to do the same manoeuvre.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWW!!!"

"They've stopped now."

"What is she doing?  He's old enough to be her father!  I am disgusted in my soul. EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWW!!!  Why couldn't he be all successful and 22?  Why couldn't that happen??  I hate him!!

Now me, on the other hand, I've always had a thing for Michael Nouri - ever since he played Dracula in Cliffhangers in 1979, when I was...  oh dear God,  I was 11.

"No, it's so wrong!  SOOOOOOO wrong!!!"

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!" She screams upon witnessing the restaurant scene where Jennifer Beals eats lobster and then sticks her stockinged foot in Michael Nouri's lap. "EEEEEEEEEEWWW!!!   EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWW!!!  EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWW!!!  Make it stop!!!"

To Rissa, an age gap of more than 1 grade level is cause for a very deep seated gross out factor.  I have no problem encouraging this tendency until she's well into her post-secondary education.

Best Nature Channel Ever!

"CHIPMUNK!!"

"Where?  Where?"

"There, by the BBQ - Lola's losing her mind"  Lola is at the screen door, nose pressed to the mesh, tail flicking, teetch chattering.

"There!  Do you see him?"

"Where?"

"There! Now he's by the post!"

"Where?"

"There! Now he's by the bike tire..."

***
 
"BUNNY!!!!"

"Where?  Where?"

"There!  Half way down.  Ears - twitching."

"Where?  Where?  I can't see it!"

I stand behind Rissa at the back door.  Move my hands to either side of her head and direct her gaze.  "It's the little one.  You have to look close."

"I need my glasses.  This right here is why I need contacts, so that I can see things right away - all the time."

***

"GROUNDHOG!!!  The groundhog is back David!"

"Where?  Where?"

"There!  By the fence.  He's there!"

"You're sure it's a groundog?   Maybe it's a gopher."

"Nope, I googled it.  Definitely a groundhog.  They're way cuter - less toothy.  I will call this groundhog Chuck."

"Chuck?"

I wait for him to get it.  Two... Three... Four...  "Like as in Woodchuck?"

"Yep.  Also known whistle-pig, or land-beaver..."

"You're making that up."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"

***

"MEDIUM BUNNY!!"

"Where?  Where?"

"By the garden.  Eating part of it."

"You're okay with that?"

"I am."

***

"SQUIRREL!!"

Silence.

"SQUIRREL!!"

Continued Silence

"Guys!  Seriously.  There's this black squirrel with a completely brown tail out there!  I'm not making this shit up!"

"Where?  Where?"

***

"Happy we moved?" whispers David.

We're standing by the back door - he has his arms around me.  

I whisper back.  "Yes."

"You don't miss the other house?"

"Not really."

"The other yard?"

I look back at him with incredulity.  Raise my eyebrows.  "Dude, there's a bunny, RIGHT there."

Approximate represenation of the woodland creatures
found in our backyard.  I never remember to take pictures.

She's not 3 any more...

When I look at Rissa now, I can't remember her as a toddler.  Even when I see photos of her from that time, it's like I'm looking at somebody else's kid.   I know that she was this small elfin child,

but that child bears next to no resemblance to the tall, poised 14 year old, who looks 18 without makeup and about 25 with it.

We're out shopping for her Grade 8 Grad shoes.  MY CHILD IS GOING INTO HIGH SCHOOL IN THE FALL!!!  She wants something sparkly - silver and sparkly.  Our small town doesn't really cater to the silver and sparkly set.  We have to go to a higher populated town to get a good mall.   So there she is, finally in Le Chateau (oh, the irony because our mall does have a Le Chateau), having already exhausted every other shoe store in the mall - three shoe boxes in front of her.

The first she tries are platformy.  She becomes a leggy giantess in these shoes.  My stomach plummets.  NOT THOSE!  PLEASE NOT THOSE!!  SHE LOOKS TOO OLD IN THOSE!  SHE LOOKS TOO SEXY IN THOSE!  BOYS WILL WANT TO INSERT PARTS OF THEIR BODIES INTO HER BODY IF SHE WEARS THOSE!!!

She takes one step, before turning to me. "Nuh-unh... NOT these.  Nope.  I'd be breaking my ankles after the first step."  She attempts another step.  "Whoa... WHOOOOOOAAAAA!"  She's walking on an invisible tightrope, her steps tentative.  Just as I'm thinking that, she pretends she's on a tightrope and fakes a trumpet version of a circus theme.

"So not those?" I take them from her, all nonchalant.  Thank Christ.  I hand her the next pair.  Ballroom style shoes studded in rhinestones.  My stomach calms a bit.  These ones aren't as sexy.  I could pretend she was on Dancing With the Stars if she wore these.

She slips the second pair on.   "Ooooooh... I like these!"  She takes a few steps - does her best imitation of a runway model.  Shoots me an over-the-shoulder glance and then makes a goofy face.

"They good?"

"These're pretty good."

Next pair.  1950s style peep-toe with a slightly thicker heel - MY 14 YEAR OLD IS TRYING ON A FRICKIN' PEEP TOE!!  Then I remember that in grade 5, my mom let me buy high heeled blue satin running shoes... In Grade 5...  Because I wanted them.   Deep calm breaths...

"These feel really good, I feel more steady in these, but my toes show."

"What's the matter with your toes?'

"They're showing."

"You have beautiful toes."

She grimaces.

"You do!  I love your toes!  Walk in the shoes.  Walk back and forth a bit."

She walks a bit in the new pair.   Every time she turns away from me - it's like there's a strange woman in the store in front of me.  Then she turns and makes a face and I'm okay again.  Until she comes back to me, slings an arm around my shoulder and towers.  She's 5' 7" without the heels - so at least 5' 10" with them.  I'm just shy of 5' 6".

"Quit gloating."

"I'm not," she says... gloatingly.

"So which ones?  Ballroom shoes or 1950s shoes?"

She's chewing on the inside of her cheek.  "I can't decide."

"Put one from each pair on either foot and walk around some more."  She does.  Depending on which foot is hitting the ground, she has a completely different facial expression.  "Dance a bit."  She does a ridiculous cha-cha, but with a big jazz hands finish at the end.

"1950s" she says.  But then almost immediately, "Which ones do you like?"

"I like both of them.  You pick which one you like."

"But if you were buying them for you, which ones would you buy?"

"The dancy ones - but I'm not buying them for me, I'm buying them for you."

"1950s!" she now says decisively.

"You're going to have to practice walking in them before Grad," I say.  "You know, like around the house.

"Yep."

Buy them in bulk

When you find  pants that fit you perfectly - the pair that turns your derriere into the Holy Grail of asses - the pair that makes your ankles look edible - those pants - you buy those in bulk. Retro style cigarette pants. Just above the ankle.  Audrey Hepburnesque.  My version of the cigarette pant is a cropped pant - a little north of being 'floods.'  NOT a capri.  They aren't wide all the way down, they're not skinny all the way down.  Tight where they should be tight with space around the bottom of your leg.    My ass and ankles are made for these pants.

If I catch sight of a pair of cigarette pants in a mod print - I'm lost.  I spotted a pair at Mark's Work Warehouse and I could barely keep it together.  We were shopping - David needed new chinos that didn't cost an arm and a leg.  While he was looking for squooshy socks to go with his new chinos, I caught a gimpse of these cigarette pants.   Black, blue and white.  Kitschy and beautiful.  I might have run across the store to caress them.  I tried them on, and though the only pair even remotely close to my size range was a titch too large -  I didn't care - I had to buy them. It was essential.

A week later, my admiration for these pants had grown, even though I realized that the size I'd bought just wasn't going to stay on, no matter how much I loved the pattern.   Possibly the first time in my life I'd ever had that problem.   I had to go back to stock up in the right size.  As a child,  I never understood why the Sears catalogue offered one thing in about a gazillion colours.  As an adult - it has become clear to me that if you fall in love with how a certain pair of pants makes your ass and ankles look, you want them in every shade available.

So, wearing my too-large pair of pants, we went back to Mark's Work Warehouse - I ran over to the cigarette pant table and picked out four more pairs, in the right size - they even had the pair I was wearing in the smaller size.  I went over to the cash and plunked them down.

"Stocking up?" the cashier asked.

"Yep.  I love these ones so much, I'm going to get them all in the size down."  I stepped back from the counter to show my too-large pants. "These ones, it turns out, are bit too roomy in the waist. "  I felt a little embarassed even mentioning it - like I shouldn't revel in the fact that my body was trimmer than I'd supposed. 

"We can do an exchange for you right now if you like."

"I'm sorry...?"

"We can do an exchange between the pair you're wearing and the pair you're buying - so you'll save a bit of money."

"Oh, but I don't have the receipt with me.  And I'm... we'll... I'm WEARING them right now."

"Not a problem.  You bought them here?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Not a problem... You can just take these ones," she cut the tags off the new size and handed them to me.  "Go change in the changing room and bring back the old ones."

"Seriously?""

"Yep."

That?  That right there?  Will have me shopping at Mark's Work Warehouse for the rest of my life.  Even if it's just for tank tops for me and socks for David - they have my loyalty FOREVER.  I was wearing the other pants and they took them back even though I'd bought the wrong size.  And now ankles look like this:

I'm sorry? Beef costs HOW much!?!

I spent $253 at the grocery store last week.  Three people live in our house.  Three.  Yes, $25 of that was because the ginormous 24/7 kitty litter was on sale for $3.00 off the regular price so I had to get at least two of them, but that still means that the other grocery type items cost a whopping $228.00.  For a week's groceries. And I wasn't buying shampoo or deodorant or toilet paper in bulk.  I wasn't buying junk food or pop.

You can cross out the two loaves of over-priced gluten free bread and that will knock the total down another $10.00 and we're down to $218!!  For a week's groceries.  FOR THREE PEOPLE!!!  But really, a loaf of regular rye bread is still over $3.00.  For a loaf of bread.

I'm morphing into Elinor from Sense and Sensibility...

David & Rissa

Surely you are not going to deny

us beef as well as sugar?

Heather

There is nothing under $10.00 a kilogram.

We have to economise.

David & Rissa

Do you want us to starve?

Heather

No. Just not to eat beef.

How do poor people manage? If I'm balking at paying $10.00 for a kg of ground-freaking-beef - how are people who don't have money managing to get their protein?

Sure, they could go the vegetarian route, just shop around the outside aisles, but even peanut butter costs a good chunk of change now and despite what the peanut butter companies try to tell you, it's not really a good serving of protein.  Vegetarian 'meat' products are pretty much as over-priced as the gluten-free products.  One could have tofu - which apparently is cheaper, but I'm not supposed to ingest soy - at least not in the 4 hour period surrounding my medication.  Beans.  They could eat beans.  They could buy them in bulk and soak them overnight, cause we all know that planning meals 24 hours in advance is what working families have time for.

Meat is expensive.  Milk is expensive.  Cheese is expensive.  In our house, we go through all three of those things like hotcakes.  Wait a second!  That's IT!!! We should  just eat hotcakes!!! We could save tonnes of money.  Flour, eggs*, a little milk... although David is determined not to skimp out on the syrup, which means we only have maple syrup, so that runs us about $10.00 a litre.  So we're pretty much screwed on the syrup front.  *Frankly we're screwed on the egg front as well, now that we're eating free-range eggs.

When Rissa was little, I used to budget about $125 a grocery shop.   So $500 a month for groceries - ish.  Now we are spending about $800 a month on groceries.  What are the families doing who have two kids?  What about the families who have three or more kids, two of them teenaged boys who eat their weight in carbs?

You can't skimp on food.  You can't.  And yet I put down those red peppers and/or those individual apples because they're too expensive - I can't afford them.  And if I'm doing that, what is the single mom who lives from pay cheque to pay cheque doing?  What are her kids missing out on?  What are the families who live in Northern Canada missing out on?   The families who have to pay $12 for a box of freaking Rice Krispies...  or $8.00 for spaghetti, not to mention fresh produce?

I struggle to make vegetables a priority for our family, knowing full well that I need to be pumping us full of vegetable and fruit supplied nutrients because those foods have supplanted grains at the bottom of the Food Pyramid... The Canadian Food Guide doesn't even have a pyramid now - it  has a rainbow with vegetables and fruits as the top colour.

And yet, there are only 4 colours on this rainbow which is just wrong  PLUS those colours mess with my sense of the proper ROYGBIV colour spectrum because this rainbow goes GYBR.  OCD kicking in - in 4,3,2,1...

So what do we do about it?  Do we become bulk coupon-cutters?  (Which, whenever I'm looking to use them, never seem to improve on No-Name prices anyway.)  Do we only shop when No Frills has their $2 (which used to be $1) Days??    Do we turn back the clock and live like we did in our early 20s, existing entirely on rice and pasta?  Remember Ramen Noodles?  Remember those?  My family can find some spare change on the incidental line in our monthly budget if we really want the good produce.   We can buck up and finance a healthful diet.  But not every Canadian has that... I was just about to type  'luxury.'  Eating healthfully in Canada shouldn't be a luxury.  Feeding your kids well shouldn't bankrupt you.