In the past week I’ve been to more parties, taken in more sunsets, and attended more family dinners than most people do in a year. Okay, I’m exaggerating, but only just a little.
Family weddings tend to be week-long affairs. There’s the prenuptial shindig, the rehearsal dinner, dim sum brunch for the out-of-towners, and let’s not forget the actual affair, which for many of us is like a trip to the zoo in heels. And then come the after-parties. In this most recent case, it was box car racing followed by a beach house luncheon that carried on well into dinner.
The wedding itself was storybook – set on a private beach spotted with skyscraping palms, delicate white petals scattered on a verdant lawn, and an endless flow of hors d’oeuvres arranged in perfect bites floating around the crowd.
I couldn’t help but get a little carried away trying to capture adorable silhouettes before the sun slipped behind the mountains.
At sunset, everyone reluctantly turned from the view and settled into their cozy seats under the tent just as the last sliver of sun disappeared with a flash. More food floated out and about the tables, this time a nest of a shrimp salad, spun in fried noodles and colored with splashes of beets and cherry tomatoes.
We cut into our appetizers and joked about arranging a marriage between the flower girl and her two-year-old escort. It’s funny how quickly you’ll pimp out your own son when there’s an adorable toddler in a frilly white dress walking down the aisle. I sunk my bare feet into the grass and settled in with my glass of Prosecco. Off in the distance, a soft sheet of mist blurred a section of the mountains as the smell of fresh rain began to make its was across the lawn. It sprinkled at first, silently warning the guests on the periphery to move in a little closer. And then the pitter patter began, amplified by the tent – much like being in the bowels of a steel drum. The beats crescendoed until you could no longer distinguish the pitter from the patter. Couples huddled together, babies climbed onto the laps of their mothers, and the newlyweds shared a kiss as we took in the romance of being caught in the rain.
The moment was gone before my Prosecco, but the cozy haze lingered throughout the night. By the time the DJ played Maniac, a flashback to the Flash Dance Era, the alcohol was in full effect and I couldn’t stop my feet from running in place, shoulders rolling, hair whipping … well, almost.
It was a long and happy day.
I’ll leave you with a nice celebratory glass of guavosa – like the traditional mimosa except with a pulpy nectar in place of tangy orange juice. I spied this drink on Sunday at a baby shower football viewing party (I told you I partied this weekend) and was instantly taken by the dainty pink liquid in the champagne flute, so out of place in its sports bar surroundings, but so apropos to the baby shower vibe. Anyway, I thought a guavosa would be a great use for the Prosecco I had sipped the night before and the perfect conclusion to the week-long festivities. I added some frozen strawberries for color, but they really ended up being a nice little treat at the bottom of the glass. Cheers!
Guava Mimosa Cocktail with Strawberries
- Bottle of Prosecco or dry sparkling white wine
- Guava juice concentrate or passion orange guava concentrate (pictured here)
- Fresh or frozen strawberries
Chill the sparkling wine thoroughly and let your guava juice concentrate thaw in the refrigerator until it is no longer frozen. Add 1-2 tablespoons of concentrate to the bottom of a champagne flute, along with a strawberry or two. Fill the glass with sparkling wine and serve immediately.