Midnight Mimosa Jello

So there we were, sitting in a small cafe on the UWS sipping mimosas until 3am. An old friend, that familiar smile. The same feeling.

Was it six years?

I don’t know if we ever figured out how long it had been since our last encounter, but we had fun guessing.

He remembered sentimental things. My long wavy hair. A concert. My baby blue guitar. Study hall.

I remembered things too. A basement party, the back of my Cadillac, steamy windows, a hairy chest, rumpled tee-shirts, hands on bare backs, stubble. Titanic style, minus the impending doom and Billy Zane.

Two different people, two separate lives lived but paths crossed again for whatever reason.

The mimosa (mostly juice, I know..) made my head a little fuzzy, my cheeks a little warm, my eyes a little heavy.  Would you believe I only drank one? I am the patron saint of light weights. (MAYYYBE not great to advertise that.) I remembered babbling – listing landmarks – mentioning the North Star. I think this was my way of inviting him back to my place.

He stretched comfortably on my couch. He looked like he had been there before or at least like he belonged there now. I changed out of my dress into a big Everready Diner t-shirt and shorts and talked to him while I brushed my teeth. I guess if you’ve known someone since you were fifteen you can do that.

Encouraged by the buzz of my thimble sized serving of alcohol, I settled next to him. I was prepared for the moment – always my favorite – that second the hand grabs the back of your neck and you think – “Oh it’s on.” And then that odd song and dance. Hands everywhere, whose lips are whose? Hair threaded through fingertips, grasp, release, and legs intertwined, HEYYO, ahem! (Can I publish this?)

Finally, sunrise. My little studio apartment. Candles still lit from the night before, the air heavy. I stumbled out of bed, bumping into walls, my couch, my desk, really everything between my bed and my bathroom. My eyes glued shut by dried out contact lenses, my face pale, my lips raw. When was the last time I slept in my contact lenses? Who is that ghoul looking back at me from the mirror?

It felt nice to have someone to help occupy my space, mental and physical. To have another body in my presence. To have someone to share a drink with, a pair of eyes to look into, hands to watch while listening to a conversation. I liked having someone else’s thoughts in my head for a change.

He stayed a few hours, my cheek stuck to his chest, we talked about Carly Fiorina. When he left, I kept thinking about, well among other things, that delicate little mimosa. It was bright and cheery, for a bright and cheery guy. A friend or sometimes more than friend with a shy smile and a careful way of speaking. It was bubbly – like I was when we dated in high school. It was sweet. It was attractive. It made my stomach flutter. Wait, am I talking about the guy or the drink?

So here is my recipe for mimosa jello, because food > drinks, and an excuse to tell a story that makes my skin tingle.

MIMOSA!

This is it. All you need. Right here.

Place the cold water in a sauce pot and sprinkle the gelatin over it. Let the gelatin bloom for 2 minutes before turning the heat on.

Turn the burner on high and bring the water to a boil.

Stir until the gelatin is fully dissolved. This will take 2 – 3 minutes tops. The liquid will be clear. Turn off the heat.

Pour the water/gelatin into a jug with a spout. This will make it easier to pour into molds.

Mix in the sugar. Stir until dissolved.

Add the orange juice.

Finally, add the champagne. Stir to combine.

Pour into molds. I used stemless wine glasses – it seemed sophisticated. Place the jello into the fridge and let firm up for a least 4 hours.

Once the jello is firm, find a handsome man, reminisce about your romantic past, get a little tipsy and… well… let the night proceed as it will. These steps are optional but highly encouraged.