I make my Sangria with Neosporin. Don’t you?

Yeah. So. Had myself a pretty little kitchen incident tonight. But let first me preface that to say I had a lovely Christmas and it was so fantastically nice to spend 5 days going to visit the people I love and while I was there knowing I’m genuinely liked and don’t feel like I’m in the 6th grade. Because that’s not how life is feeling most of the time these days. It was a perfect little break. And I received some perfect little gifts. My favs include a new knife magnet, reflective vest for running, a picture I saw at a fundraiser that was actually taken by the host of the party I’m bringing the sangria to, and the complete series of the West Wing. (I’ve been asking for that last one for about 6 years and my mom completely surprised me with it. Go Mom!)

My lovely Christmas gifts. From my lovely family
Two other gifts make the top of the list. A speaker attachment for my laptop that is aMAZing. I love to rock out while I cook and it was in use during tonight’s little incident. The  last one was a new vegetable/thumb slicer.
The weapon of thumb destruction
I think you can see where this is headed.
I like to slice things. Like potatoes to make microwave potato chips (it really works). Or fruit for sangria. Especially champagne sangria for a New Year’s Eve party. A party with a new group of people who mostly don’t know I’m a bit of a mess. So I wanted everything to be perfect. And evenly sliced fruit is the only way to impress them, of course!

First. Here’s the recipe.

2 apples, cored and sliced
2 fresh pears, sliced
3 oz. Damiana liquer
20 whole cloves
1 tsp. nutmeg
1 bottle chilled dry white wine
1 bottle chilled champagne
2 bandaids
1 latex glove (these last two are only if you’re me)

You mix everything except the champagne together and let sit over night. Just before serving you mix in the champagne. Talk about easy. And delicious. At least, it better be delicious.

Second. Here’s what it’s supposed to look like.

Photo: From the recipe

To start I went shopping last night. That way I could actually let the pears ripen a bit more, chill the wine, and if I forgot anything I wouldn’t have to rush right back out to get the whole cloves because it turns out the cloves in my spice cabinet are ground, not whole. It was like I was a real grown up. A new liquor store opened next to my Market Basket. I peaked inside while driving by when it opened in late October and it looked kind of sad and a little sketch. I was wrong!! It’s a fabulous place and I sort of would like to move in. The staff are friendly. The place is spotless. Their craft beer selection is actually a craft beer selection not a bunch of Sam Adams and Wachusett (don’t get me wrong. I love both of those. But it’s not exactly what I would call craft beer). And oh my the wine. A huge selection, good prices, and an expert that wanders the stacks and helps you pick out the perfect bottle. Yes please. I suck at choosing wine. I had someone over for dinner and served a wicked sweet dessert wine with dinner because I had a cold and couldn’t taste it and the interwebs said it would be good. Oops. The expert dude (is he a sommelier if he’s not in a restaurant?) pointed me in the direction of the supposedly perfect bottle of dry white wine. And then I asked about the Damiana. He had no idea what Damiana was. I told him it had a citrus flavor. He showed me the triple sec and said it was the closest thing. I have triple sec at home. That’s what went into the sangria. Because I have never heard of Damiana. And a search on Google showed me I had never seen it before either. Anyone drinking it will just have to deal.

I got home, popped the pears in a brown bag to help ripen them a bit more, popped the wine in the fridge, and checked my spices. I made a mental note to buy whole cloves on the way home. Today I stopped to buy the cloves. The grocery store was a mad house. I guess everyone thought everyone else would be at work or still at home and not be at the grocery store. They were wrong. Also, someone needs to tell the woman in front of me in line that ugly sweater party season is over. And that she’s not actually supposed to wear the ugly sweater to the party. Luckily the 12 items or less line wasn’t too long. I came home and turned on the oven for the frozen pizza that would be my dinner. It takes 8 minutes to cook. PLENTY of time to cut the fruit for the sangria because I have that new fangled slicer. Um. No. It took my the entire Sugarland album that was also a Christmas present. In the recipe’s defense, quite a bit of time was dedicated to the stoppage of the blood flowing from my thumb. And searching for a band aid. Because the only ones in the medicine cabinet were for Jimmy Fund Walk blisters and were about six thousand times too big.

I washed the fruit. I put the correct spacer for the slice size I wanted. Then I peeled the sticker off the blade. The sticker that says “SHARP BLADE: Use Extreme Caution When Handling”. No joke I had this thought while I was pulling it off. Well, duh it’s sharp. It’s a slicer. What dumb idiot needs this caution sticker. That should have been my warning. Oh wait. IT WAS!  I pulled a knife of my new knife magnet, sliced the fruit, and stuck a piece of apple onto the safety handle thingy for the slicer. And made my first slice. And it was perfect. And I made 4 or 5 more slices. And then the apple piece fell from the handle. Probably because I wasn’t using it correctly. But I didn’t feel like reading the little manual. So I just went with it. And pushed the apple down against the sharp blade. And then pushed my thumb through the blade. It just barely nicked the outer edge of my thumb. And the whole wound is about the size of a pencil eraser. And it really didn’t hurt. But it was bleeding. A lot. This happens when you cut yourself with a sharp blade because it makes a clean cut. I was actually surprise I didn’t swear. Or make any noise at all for that matter. I just walked to the bathroom and pulled out all the wrong bandaids. I searched all through the bathroom. A task made more difficult by the absence of a functioning right thumb. Finally I decided to just slap one on until I was done with the sangria. This next part is a little icky. It was bleeding through the bandaid. At that point I went and found the correct size bandaid. And while my left hand was trying to doctor my right hand all I could think was where’s my Top Chef paramedic? I really need one of those guys to swoop and take care of this business. Which got me thinking. I might keep bleeding. I have latex gloves from an old craft project. I put one on over the next round of bandaids to make sure I didn’t get any blood near the sangria. Food safety first. Always.

Thumb up for food safety. And for stopping blood

I finished slicing. I had finally figured out the correct technique and it was actually kind of fun. I threw it all in a pitcher and left it in the fridge. I hope it’s good. I would hate to waste my flesh wound on something that will just be spit out.

So far, it looks pretty good.

And it was a good thing I put on the glove. I did keep bleeding. And then I started to wonder at what point I would have to start worrying about it not stopping. But it did stop. And now I just have a nice little throb going. So I don’t have to go to the ER and explain what an idiot I am. Which is good. Because I’m pretty comfy in my pjs. And it’s hard to project intelligence when you’ve sliced yourself open on a blade that HAD A WARNING LABEL ON IT.

Hearts and bandaids

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