A few weeks ago, a girl my age passed away from what could only be assumed at this point as a tragic accident. She was driving on a highway that I frequent several times a week, with her boyfriend in the passenger seat and a friend in the back. Apparently, a bullet came through the driver’s side window and pierced her neck, passing through her and hitting her boyfriend in the jaw. It could have been a hunting accident, some teens goofing off in the woods, or some poachers and an unlucky shot. Something particularly bothersome is that we don’t even know if the shooter knows that they killed someone. I didn’t know her, but I can’t seem to shake the situation from my mind.
This situation, among other stories and art influencing me right now, has left me in a philosophical, life-pondering state. Our world is beautiful and vibrant, and so much is always happening everywhere. Even violent storms and rainy days are filled with beauty. It is interesting to think that the greatest things that we experience in life wouldn’t appear so great if tragedy didn’t stir and rustle among the rain-soaked bushes. The weather has reflected my mood, bouncing from bright, bountiful sunny days to torrent rain and wind, to soft, gray, clouds smothering the sky like a crowded subway of strangers.
My pensive mood couldn’t be more appropriate for the drink Ang and I have decided to tackle next. Thanks to our recent misadventures, all of the ingredients we needed were already acquired, aside from some curry and juicy melon. Enter: Meloncholy.
I have always felt that melancholy is an emotion of the joys or curiosity hidden within sadness. I’ve always been the adventurous type; curiosity drives me like an undiscovered story. When it comes to games, I find every hidden chest and side quest I can before I continue with story progression; I enjoy the grind. Melancholy is like digging through sadness or tragedy, not for closure but for exposure. There are some incredible musical feats that capture this twist of bitter-sweet emotion that really speak to me. One such work that comes to my mind is from a choral set we once sang by Dwight Bigler called Glimpses 4: Dear Sir. The poetry of the song that comes to my mind reads as follows:
Dear sir, I am in some little disorder by reason of the death of a little child of mine,
a boy that lately made us very glad,
but now he rejoices in his little orb while we think and sigh and long to be as safe as he is.
The words are heavy, but powerful and moving. The performance directions are “with stoic sorrow.” The freely tonal melody is disarrayed and deranged, like a desk covered in papers all scattered around, yet reverberates with beauty. The statement ties safety and security, which are generally considered very good things, to a coffin and death. (If you are interested in more, I also recommend a great story-driven choral work by Benjamin Britten called The Ballad of Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard.)
Getting back to the drink, this round was pretty straight-forward. Hansen enjoyed the cantaloupe we cut up for juicing. All we had to do is measure out the curry, select a few makrut and cilantro leaves, and make one long, twisty orange swath. Drop it in the French press, take some pretty pictures, then add the liquid ingredients (shaken before pouring in) to steep for a few minutes. Press and serve.
I can’t recount how long we spent fiddling with the orange peel trying to get it to prop up just right. We are pretty sure that our French press is bigger than the press used in the Aviary photo. That, or they added more than the recipe called for just for the sake of the photo.
By far, the Meloncholy has made it as a contender for our favorite cocktail… ever. It is filled with layers of depth and flavor, and it is well named. Melancholy isn’t just sadness, but pensive sadness. Engaged in, involving, or reflecting in deep or serious thought. This drink takes time to steep, as though it is reflecting in its very own flavors. It grows slightly spicy, bitter, and fragrant with time. And yet, it holds its pure flavors of ripe cantaloupe, bright lemon, and rich balance of tequila and sweet, cantaloupe-like aperitif wine at its core. The drink is exciting, smooth, and dreamy. It truly is as rich as its emotional counterpart.
