the almighty Aperol Spritz.

One year ago today, I was in Europe.

So much has happened in that year. Here's the short list:

I found out I was pregnant.
I graduated with my Masters Degree. 
James and I bought and moved into a new house.
I was diagnosed with preeclampsia, had Phineas a month early, and he spent a month in the NICU.
COVID-19.
George Floyd.

Some good, some bad, all unforgettable.

I keep thinking back to when I was in Europe, and the ONLY one of these things on my radar was graduating. Life was much simpler back then.

I miss being in Europe with a deep ache I have never experienced before. I miss the food, the drinks, the culture, the architecture. Most of all, I miss the amazing times with amazing people.

Thankfully, the amazing people aren't too far away. And when we get together, there is one drink we can have to bring us right back to Europe.

The Aperol Spritz.

I wish I could remember what exactly made Kim and me want to try Aperol Spritzes, but I can tell you exactly where we were. We had gone with our friends Amanda and Sunny to a bar called the Centralhjørnet, the oldest gay bar in Denmark (if not Europe itself). It was the coziest little bar, and we loved every second of it. Maybe Kim and I saw Aperol Spritzes advertised in the bar, or maybe it was a special... but we'd never heard of such a thing, and we were intrigued.

We were hooked.

For the uninitiated, an Aperol Spritz is an aperitif made of prosecco, soda water, and Aperol. Aperol is made of gentian, rhubarb, and cinchona. The flavor is hard to describe, besides slightly bitter and summery. According to the all-knowing Wikipedia, the Aperol Spritz wasn't popular outside of northeast Italy until 2018, which could explain why we'd never heard of it.

Kim and I were on the lookout for Aperol Spritzes the rest of the trip. The next day was our last day in Copenhagen, and we wanted an Aperol Spritz for our last evening. We were thwarted at a bar called Jolene...

...but succeeded at Restaurant Gorilla next door.

Upon arriving in Germany, we promptly switched to German beer. Radlers and Hefeweizens and Kölschs and Witbiers galore.

(Until we stumbled across an Aperol booth at a German festival of cultures, that is.)

When we returned from Europe, Kim and I immediately set about recreating our spritzes.

This is just a few weeks after our return.

 

This is just a few weeks ago. I need to get more Aperol.

No Aperol Spritz will ever taste as good as those in Europe, but nothing can bring me back faster than a taste of that delicious orange drink. And I sit back and remember what a wonderful time it was.

Long live the Aperol Spritz.