Because my body and I have a long-term disagreement about what I should weigh, I hired a personal trainer (maybe my body will listen to an expert since it doesn’t listen to me). Today my trainer beat the hell out of me and I needed a drink that was easy to make and reassuringly delicious, so I opted for a Perfect Manhattan. I find that a full ounce of sweet vermouth is a bit too much sweet for my taste these days (what happened to the girl who sought out the cake-flavored vodka drinks?), so the Perfect is indeed perfect. I also splurged with Masterson’s, my new favorite rye, so I’ll just sit back and wallow with my perfect drink and a good book (The Fireman, by Joe Hill) while my muscles finish their transformation to Jello.