Reflections on 30 and a Birthday Cocktail Recipe

+ a summer anthem from an Egyptian pop sensation

To the handful of new readers I have this week: I am so happy you’re here! I’d really like to get to know each of you, and would love it if you would introduce yourself in the comments and tell me what brings you to this newsletter. Or if you are an old reader and would just like to say hi, I’d love that, too!

First things first: happy almost birthday to me!! I’m turning 31 tomorrow. On Friday evening, we took a celebratory felucca ride on the Nile with about a dozen friends. We snacked on crudité with beetroot hummus, homemade garlic knots, and a massive chocolate cake (which Nick and I polished off for breakfast on Saturday morning). There was a soft breeze and a fiery sunset, followed by a red moon rising over the water. It was a tranquil end to a tumultuous year.

Thirty gave me some of the best memories of my life: my wedding finally happened after the pandemic put it off for 16 months, I moved to a new country with my person, and I traveled to some truly incredible places (like the Maldives the week before last—more on that later this month). But it also brought the death of my dad and with it the deepest pain I have ever felt. My birthday gives me an excuse for a fresh start, to look ahead instead of back. So lately I’ve been considering what I want from the rest of my thirties.

I spent my twenties anchoring my sense of self to my professional success, because lines on a resume and fancy job titles are tangible social currency. I could point to them and tell people—including myself—“look, I have achieved things. Here is proof I am worthy.” But I put my career on hold when we moved to Egypt, and my sabbatical forced me to reevaluate that worldview. I had to finally figure out who I am outside of work.

While that process hasn’t always been comfortable, it has been one of the best things I’ve ever done for my spirit. I have gained a huge amount of self-knowledge in the past 9 months. I am learning not only to see myself as a human being with inherent worth (rather than a “productive member of society,” an employee whose value lies solely in their work output), but to cherish who I am and to be more authentic with others. So I’m dedicating my 31st year to continuing that journey toward authenticity.

This will be the year of drawing boundaries that need to be drawn. Of listening to my inner voice and repeating its words out loud more often. Of pursuing things that make me feel real happiness and fulfillment, instead of giving the outward appearance of happiness and fulfillment. I officially declare myself too old to keep doing things I don’t want to do out of a sense of obligation. Except laundry and dishes. I’ll still be doing those, because staring at them and willing them finished doesn’t seem to be working. If you have tips on mastering the art of telekinesis, leave them in the comments, please and thank you.

But enough with the sappy stuff and on to what’s really important: what is to be my birthday cocktail???

Mixed drinks are scarce here in Egypt, and the ones you do find are, frankly, just sad. I ordered a margarita at a beach resort a couple weeks ago, and I am pretty certain it was melted ice with a generous squeeze of lemon juice and maybe a thimble of tequila. No offense to the esteemed mixologists of Ain Sokhna, but it was the worst drink I’ve ever tasted. And it was only a small step down from 99% of other cocktails I’ve had here.

As a result, Nick and I tend to drink at home almost exclusively these days. We are lucky to have access to imported alcohol via the commissary, plus Nick’s newest hobby is experimenting with vodka infusions. So I think the best lil’ bar in Egypt is right here in our kitchen.

My favorite of Nick’s recent brews is his homemade limoncello, which was fairly straightforward to make: he added 250g of zest of baladi lemons into 750ml of vodka, let it sit for a month, then strained out the zest and added 150ml of simple syrup. (Click here to jump to the recipe, which is at the end of this post.)

As soon as I tasted it, I knew it would be perfect for recreating my favorite virgin drink—the cold, frothy, zesty lemon mint that every restaurant in Cairo serves—in cocktail form. After a couple attempts, Nick whipped up the perfect alcoholic version. We have dubbed it the limoncello mint. It is an excellent digestif. The recipe is below (click here to jump to it), and it’s easy to riff off of; if you don’t have limoncello, you can substitute vodka and Grand Marnier or Cointreau. I suspect it would go nicely with tequila as well. If you try any of these iterations, please report back and tell me how it went!

And lastly, a just-for-fun slice of Egyptian culture to spice up your week! “B3oda Ya Belady” is a bop that has been blasting out car windows around Cairo all summer. It’s by Wegz, an Egyptian hip-hop artist from Alexandria, and it plays in my head on repeat. Here’s a clip, but be warned, it’s an earworm. (Click here for the full music video.)

The song was written for a documentary about two boys in a refugee camp who dream of a better future as professional soccer players. While most of the lyrics are in Arabic, the chorus is actually in English:

Habibi¹ we ballin’ (masha’allah)²
Fakers keep fallin’ (masha’allah)
Workin’ like a slave brother (playin’ too hard)
Lookin’ as fresh as Mo Salah³

The more I think about the lyrics and the meaning behind them, the more I want to make them my mantra for 31: work hard at what you love and stay true to yourself. Simple and somewhat cliché, but so true…and very easy to forget.

I’m getting sappy again, but that’s probably my limoncello mint talking!! Until next week, habaybi.⁴

---

Limoncello Mint Cocktail

4 grams or 1/4 cup fresh mint leaves
1.5 ounces (one shot glass) simple syrup
3 ounces of limoncello (or substitute with one shot of vodka and one shot of Grand Marnier or Cointreau)
2 tbsp of lime juice (about 1 lime)
About 5 ice cubes

1. Blend all ingredients in a Nutribullet or blender for about five seconds, or until mint leaves are finely chopped and ice is cut into small chips.

2. Pour into cocktail glasses, straining some of the mint leaves off the top, if desired. Makes 2 servings.

Note: Fresh mint is absolutely key in this recipe. We tried to use dried mint when all of the grocery stores in our neighborhood were out of the fresh stuff, and the leaves floated around at the top like some weird green-ish, grey-ish, papery foam. It just didn’t work. You need the oils found in fresh mint to give the drink its flavor.

Homemade Limoncello

250 grams of lemons 
750 ml of vodka (80 proof, 40% ABV)
150 ml of simple syrup (make with 1:1 ratio of water to sugar)

1. Wash and zest the lemons.

2. Add the lemon zest to the vodka and let sit for 4 weeks.

3. Strain out the zest.

4. Add the simple syrup and mix or let the mixture sit to combine. Final ABV will be about 33%.

1. Habibi is a term of endearment that translates literally as “my love,” but the meaning is closer to “my dear” or “my friend.” Arabic speakers use this form of address with people they like (or have to pretend to like).

2. A phrase that means “God willed it,” masha’allah is used to show joy or gratitude for an event that has already happened. Example: “My pet skunk gave birth this weekend!” “Masha’allah!”

3. Soccer player Mo Salah is Liverpool’s star forward and Egypt’s proudest export. His face is on bumper stickers all over the country and people regularly refer to him as “our Egyptian king,” so Sisi better hope he never runs for president!!

4. The pural of habibi, because I like you guys. Or am I pretending…? :) (I’m definitely not pretending!)