The Violet Hour

Let's put the "high" in "High Elevations" for a change. I got up very, very early this morning -- not the violet hour, but murky, cranky, and exciting all at once. Just past five a.m., I jumped out of bed to watch the two men's tennis semifinals at Roland Garros. In the first match, my pick won, and I felt happiness, relief, and a sudden exhaustion brought on by too many late nights in the past two weeks.

Waiting for the second match, I wandered over the Internet to Slate magazine and found a delightful little gem of an article called "The greatness of gin," by Troy Patterson. He covers a number of cocktail books, focusing mostly on my own favorite liquor. Amongst the bon mots, one about the cocktail hour and martinis, by Bernard DeVoto, stood out:

This is the violet hour, the hour of hush and wonder, when the affections glow and valor is reborn, when the shadows deepen along the edge of the forest and we believe that, if we watch carefully, at any moment we may see the unicorn. But it would not be a martini if we should see him.

Apparently DeVoto liked more vermouth in his mix than I do. But anyway, reading those words, I felt magically transported. What a lovely and accurate description of twilight...and martinis. And unicorns, probably.

Here's to the violet hour, wherever you are, and whatever you drink!