Page 70 of Make My Heart Malt

“This is a palate cleanser drink to open your tastebuds to all the flavors you’ll experience tonight. It’s called a Negroni. It’s made of an Italian bitter, sweet vermouth, and gin. Then garnished with an orange peel.”

I raise my glass, and Tony does the same. We clink our glasses before swallowing our cocktails. Hints of both bitter and sweet dance over my tastebuds.

Isabella claps her hands together. “Now to the fun stuff. This is something new I’ve been trying. It’s a smoky whiskey.” She gives us a play-by-play demonstration of how she makes the drink. “First, I insert a tube into the shaker and cover the top the best I can and turn on the smoke gun. I’ll let this sit for about two minutes. You can adjust it for shorter or longer depending on how strong you want the smoke flavor.” She turns on the smoke gun, and a cloud of smoke rolls from the top and down the sides of the shaker as she infuses the whiskey. The whole process is mesmerizing.

I stare in wide-eyed fascination. “I never would’ve thought to add smokiness to a drink before.”

“You’d be surprised by the flavor that it brings out of the whiskey.”

“I bet.” I make a mental note to add a smoke gun to my shopping list.

Once finished, she passes us a sample glass of the whiskey. “You need to try the whiskey by itself, first.”

I take a sip. The smoky flavor adds a rich and savory element of smoothness to the dark liquid. “This tastes amazing. I can picture myself drinking this curled up next to the fireplace on a cold winter night.” Garrett would really like this. Fuck. Why am I thinking of Garrett? I push the thoughts away.

Isabella nods excitedly. “Yes. Exactly. It gives it a cozy feeling.” Then she starts on the next drink.

Unable to contain my excitement, I rise to my feet for a better view of everything she’s doing. Tony continues to sit on the stool next to me. She uses a paring knife to delicately slice the orange peel into a twist for garnish. I lean in closer to examine her technique. From his stool, Tony does the same. His hand rests on my lower back and my body stiffens for a moment. Not wanting to give anyone the wrong idea, I inch away from him and his hand drops. I continue to watch Isabella intently as she places the garnish delicately on top of the drink when she’s done, then she slides it across the table to us.

“So how long have you two been married?” Isabella wipes a rag over the bar as she prepares to make the next drink.

I choke on my drink. “O-oh! We’re,” I point between me and Tony, “not married.”

“I’m sorry. My mistake. I saw his ring and assumed.”

“We’re just friends. We’ve known each other,” I glance at Tony, “for close to twenty years.”

“That’s a long time,” Isabella says.

I keep the info about us dating to myself. I don’t want to give her the wrong impression or fuel the impression she already has. “He’s just a really good friend.”

Tony wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. “Good friends.”

I slide out of his grasp. Again, I don’t want her getting the wrong idea. “So, what’s the next drink?”

“This one is my favorite.” She grabs a collection of various bottles and liquors and pours them into a shaker. “So, are you guys going to stay for dinner?”

“Dinner’s an option? After all these drinks, I could use something to soak up the alcohol.”

“Definitely, I’ll arrange a table for you guys. You’re in luck. Chris is in the kitchen tonight, so he’ll make you anything on or off the menu.”

“Please tell me you’ll join us.”

Tony sits up straighter on his stool and clears his throat. “I’m sure Isabella has a lot to do.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to impose.”

“No imposing. I would love to pick your brain some more. Please join us for dinner.” I plead. I’m only seconds away from climbing over the bar and getting on my knees to beg her to have dinner with us.

“If you don’t mind?—”

“Of course not.” I turn to face Tony. “Right? You don’t mind.”

His gaze flickers upward and his nostrils flare. “No. Not at all.”

Over the next two hours, I ask Isabella a million different questions, and she happily answers all of them while Tony leans against the chair and stares at his phone screen. Chris, Isabella’s husband, made me the most orgasmic mushroom risotto. I’d try to make it myself, but there’s no way I could come close to replicating the dish. I wasn’t going to waste a single second of my time with Isabella. She’s my rock star of mixology and just in the short time with her, I learned so many new techniques and new flavor combinations that I’ll be implementing. She even gave me referral codes to a couple of local shops to buy products. As if that wasn’t enough, she also gifted me a set of her signature stainless steel shakers that I’m almost too scared to ever use because they’re so nice, but I will shake the shit out of drinks with them. Of course, she also gave me a signed copy of her upcoming book that I will cherish forever. When I die, I want to be buried with this book.

When we arrive back at the hotel, Tony sits my gift box from Isabella on the table. I’m still riding the high from the evening and probably will be for the next year. “Thank you so much for today. It was absolutely amazing. It was like a dream come true. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” I shrug out of my coat and Tony does the same.

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