Snoqualmie

Slingin' liquor is fine, but when all's said and done it doesn't beat a good pie.

I just got home from day one of my two-week intensive course in getting people drunk. Yee fucking ha! Here's the recipe.

• Take one Dianna.
  
• Stick her in a room in a swanky building in San Francisco.
  
• Stand her up behind a practice bar surrounded by more simulated alcohol and funny glasses than you can shake an olive on a stick at.
  
• Pour in two and a half hours of basic drink recipes to practice (I want to see those bottles tipped all the way up, and don't forget to pour two at a time!).
  
• Top with 20 minutes of high-speed drilling on the previous 2.5 hours of drinks (you have a minute to remember what's in a Cosmo and make it-- hint: it's a Very Trendy Cocktail).
  
• Garnish with the sudden terrifying realization that you're standing so high above ground level that you're looking at the top of SF/MOMA from above, and stop looking out the windows before you faint.
  
• Serve with a flourish.

Three hours into my glamorous liquor-slinging career and I've already covered the most important bases of all: pouring two-fisted with steady ease from bottles with fancy tops, tossing in cocktail straws with one hand while spritzing soda with the other, nonchalantly picking up a full martini glass with two fingers, and the elegant yet casual swoosh that deposits mere drops--no more-- of vermouth onto the sacrificial olive.

I'm grinning from ear to ear. If actual bartending is half as much fun as this class, I'll be in heaven.