A Quick Drink: The Daiquiri

There has been a lot of talk about Go Cups lately. I am not sure who started this ruckus; but quite frankly, it has me craving a daiquiri. The daiquiri, besides being one of those confusing to spell words, began its life in humble circumstances. It soon immigrated from its native Cuba to the United States where it became bastardized into a frozen concoction built for getting teenager girls who don't like the taste of alcohol drunk. While I have no personal qualms with the frozen daiquiri, a true daiquiri does not dispense from a machine.

A good daiquiri should be three things and three things only: cold, balanced, and simple. Think of it as the roast chicken of the cocktail world. How it is made says more about the bartender than his credit score. The tartness of lime juice should blend harmoniously with the rum and simple syrup. The drink should be slightly cloudy from a vigorous shake, with maybe a few shards of ice floating on top. Bayou Rum has become my daiquiri rum this summer. It has a light hint of sweetness that I find allows me to cut back on the simple syrup without comprising the balance of the drink. Look, I'd rather DRINK my sugar than drink my sugar if you catch my drift.

As far as my opinion on Go Cups, let's just say when the City Council says there is no prohibition against Go Cups and then lists all the ways they limit Go Cups, I see no dichotomy in that. Or the fact that the main reason they give for not allowing new places to have Go Cups is litter. Meanwhile, six blocks away from my house, Claiborne Ave. is strewn with litter from Popeyes, Wendy's, McDonald's, Walgreens, and just about any other spot on the road. Funny, I don't recall any provisos limiting their ability to litter the neighborhoods. Or the fact that sometimes neighborhood groups don't request a Go Cup proviso but the City Planning Commission adds one anyway. But hey, nothing to see here.

Solution? Have another daiquiri. You'll feel much better.

Daiquiri

2 oz Bayou Silver Rum
.5 oz of simple syrup
Juice of three-quarters of a lime (use other quarter for a lime wheel) or .75 oz fresh squeezed lime juice

Chill a coupe or similar glass vessel.

Combine rum, simple syrup, and lime juice. Add ice. Shake it like it stole from you. Strain into chilled coupe. Add lime wheel. Drink quickly.

A Quick Drink: Old Fashioned

Just because Matt Weiner has taken his Don Draper ball and gone home for the summer, doesn't mean you need to give up drinking like Duck Phillips. The Old Fashioned is a simple cocktail combining a base spirit with bitters, sugar, and usually some type of fruit or zest. Rumor has it it got its name from a salty patron who had grown tired of fancy cocktails and demanded something "old fashioned". More importantly, this anecdote confirms that animosity towards newfangled drinking ways is nothing new.

What I've done here is taken out the simple syrup and/or muddled oranges. Instead, imagine a maitre'd standing in front of a gueridon with your order of crepes suzette. What he might do (and they were all men when this went on so I am only slightly sexist) is take a sugar cube and rub it across the skin of orange. The white cube turning a pale orange as the intense citrus oils latched onto the sugar. Do the same thing here and you will get the effect of orange without all the cloying sweetness of orange juice. I like a high proof bourbon or rye, but don't get too fancy with your booze or some salty barfly might call you an insufferable whippersnapper.

An Old Fashioned

2 oz of bourbon or rye
1 demerara sugar cube
1 orange
2-3 dashes of bitters (your choice, Peychaud's, Angostura, or Orange)

Rub the sugar cube on all six sides across the flesh of the orange. You really want to scratch the hell out of it. Place sugar cube in mixing glass, add bitters, and muddle briefly. Add bourbon or rye and ice and stir about 63 rotations. Stain into a rocks glass with a few cubes of ice. Garnish with an orange peel.

A Quick Drink: Sangria

"Oooh sangria," you say "let's go drink some at the beach/Fly/Cinco de Mayo." Sangria is a drink, like the Mint Julep or White Russian, that requires a certain time, event, or place sensors to trigger your desire for one. You likely aren't drinking sangria with a bowl of gumbo in January, but once the warmth of spring descends you are looking to drink outside with something refreshing in hand.

We get hankerings for sangria on Sundays; this may or may not have anything to do with the fact that Sunday is technically Funday. Regardless after walking the hounds and baby around the park, Lindsay will remark that if I make a pitcher of sangria for the afternoon she will help me drink it. You may have a wonderful sangria recipe that you learned from a Jerry Jeff Walker song and I am sure it is great. However, next time you get the envie for something legal that also gets you so high, try this recipe from Jason Kosmas and Dushan Zaric's of Employees Only and their fantastic Speakeasy book. 

What we really love about this particular batch is the incredibly fragrant and sultry simple syrup it requires. Your whole house will fill with the smells of root beer or pho if you are of a Vietnamese bend. We generally do not let it sit overnight as we can never wait that long. Often we serve the saturated fruit on the side instead of in the glass. I find trying to navigate around a chunk of apple and slice of orange often leads to me spilling wine all over myself. You can use a garden variety Syrah from California, which you can pick up for a steal anywhere that sells wine. I try to drink only good rioja so I wouldn't use it in a sangria. This recipe doesn't use brandy which helps keep it light enough to consider making two batches. 

Not a bad way to spend a Sunday. 

Spiced Sangria Roja 

credit Jason Kosmas and Dushan Zaric

2 cups water

1 cup sugar

2 each whole cloves, cinnamon sticks, star anise

1 vanilla pod, split down the middle

3 thin slices of ginger

Combine the above and bring to a boil. Now simmer for ten minutes. Remove from heat and let steep for 30 minutes or so. Strain into a large pitcher.

1 bottle red wine

1 cup freshly squeezed orange juice

1/8 cup freshly squeezed lime juice

1 orange, cut into quarter-wheels

1 lemon, cut into wheels

1 cup seeded and cubed melon (often I use apples)

1 cup red grapes, halved

Add the above to the syrup mixture and stir. Pop in the fridge for as long as you can wait. Serve over ice in a large glass. 

A Quick Drink: Vodka

There is nothing cool about vodka in the high-end cocktail world. Vodka has very little cache as a serious spirit to those mustachioed mixologists popping up at the newest Death Cab for Cutie inspired craft cocktail bar in your neck of the woods. Perhaps dismissive is too strong a word, but some bartenders certainly view vodka as a boring spirit. To be fair, vodka is not necessarily a liquor one seeks out if one is looking for excitement. By definition, vodka is odorless, flavorless, and colorless. Consider it the reverse of a gated subdivision. The bottles may all look different, but inside the houses are the same. There are flavored vodkas worth exploring. However, save for one or two of them, if I want flavored vodka, I'll just ask for gin.

This only tells half the story. Sometimes you want a spirit that isn't going to do much besides bring the alcohol and stay the hell out of the way. A Bloody Mary with any other spirit besides vodka always seems out of balance with the spirit and the heavily spiced mixer fighting like a bunch of freshmen at their first kegger. A refreshing greyhound needs the vodka to allow the bracing sweetness of that perfect citrus orb to shine through. Vodka gets along great with fruit juices, which is one reason why you got lucky in high school. The other reason was the Dave Matthews Band.

I like this drink because it is a liquid expression of a favorite salad of mine. Grapefruit and fennel are a natural combination. Here the vodka does the heavy lifting with a wash of Herbsaint providing just a tiny whisper that springtime, bathing suits, and days of lounging poolside aren't far off. The splash of sparkling water gives just enough effervescence to set the drink alive.

Spring is Coming

3 parts of vodka
2 parts of fresh squeezed grapefruit juice
Herbsaint or Pernod
Splash of sparkling mineral water
Grapefruit twist, for garnish

Pour a tablespoon or so of Herbsaint or Pernod into a rocks glass. Swirl it around. Dump it out. Park the Herbsaint rinsed glass in the freezer with a handful of ice placed inside while you assemble the drink.

In a mixing glass combine the vodka and grapefruit. Add ice and shake. Strain into the rocks glass. Top with an ounce or so of sparkling mineral water. Garnish with grapefruit twist.

Pro Tip: This wouldn't be a bad drink to batch for a flask along the parade route this weekend. Just add a tablespoon of Herbsaint or Pernod, mix to combine, and pour into your flask. You can omit the sparkling water.

A Quick Drink: Champagne Cocktail

Welcome the newest soon to be abandoned Blackened Out Series: A Quick Drink. A Quick Drink will be a brief glance at a cocktail, bottle of wine, or pint of beer. No pretentious tasting notes, immersion circulator fueled infusions , or overly flowery descriptions of hops that sound like descriptions of potent marijuana. Just booze, served up neatly. 

The three biggest improvements in American dining in the last ten years have involved roast chicken, hamburgers, and cocktails. Cocktails, perhaps more than anything, have benefited from increased attention to sourcing and improved techniques from bartenders. A well-curated list of house made cocktails employing elderberry shrub and house made nocello is so standard it must be given out with a liquor license. All of that is well and fine but sometimes you need to pour drinks in a hurry and you aren't going to shrub your own elderberry. Scoff not wine nerds, cocktail connoisseurs are just following in your well-trodden foot steps. Beer geeks, you aren't far behind to the path to ubiquity and a touch of over saturation.

The Champagne Cocktail is a fantastic flourish and can be prepared with stuff you probably have around the house. I've taken a couple liberties with this drink. First, don't use Champagne. If you are buying real deal Champagne, don't use it in a cocktail unless you want to be painted as a ne'er-do-well or worse, a charlatan. A fifteen dollar Cava Brut, St. Hillaire, prosecco, or Californian sparkling will do.

Second, ditch the champagne flute. I know it is pretty and traditional, but you don't get enough juice to balance out the sweetness of the sugar cube. And while you can probably get five ounces in a champagne flute, it will more than likely spill out of the glass. Use a large wine glass instead. Thirdly, ditch the traditional lemon twist. Use a orange bitters in its place, which delivers the citrus punch without the fussiness and sadomasochism of twisting and bending a lemon peel.

Champagne Cocktail

1 sugar cube, I like the brown demerara  kind
2 dashes of Peychaud's Bitters
2 dashes of orange bitters
5 oz sparkling wine

Place sugar cube in bottom of wine glass, add bitters. Pour sparkling wine in glass. Serve immediately; the sugar will continue to dissolve as you sip the sunset hued elixir.

The Last Rites of Summer

A few days ago summer ended according to the Mayan weather.com app on my desktop calendar. Of course, living in the Capital of the Caribbean means fall hasn't really decided to show up and unpack. Rather we get a few days in which the disco days of the seventies roll in and suck up the hot, moist air. But by the next day, the temperatures return again to the time of M.C. Hammer and Girbaud jeans. But trust the desktop calendar, the worst of summer's heat is behind us.

Last weekend marked the first time since before Goodell ruined football that I was able to braise a fat streaked hunk of pork while simultaneously reducing chicken stock and making chili. Now granted, I had to run the AC on about 55 degrees in order to keep the house somewhat temperate, but still. Braised meat!

All that cooking required something refreshing that could cultivate nostalgia for long, hot summer days worthy of a Kenny Chesney song. With the basil plant on its last leg and tomatoes long ago flying south for winter, the last few leaves needed a noble send off. And does it get more nobler than smashing them with a muddler, adding a clear white spirit, topping with lemonade, and a splash of sparkling wine? I think not. Goodbye, summer. See ya next February.

The Last Rites of Summer

2 oz clear white distillate (you pick, rum, vodka, or gin will do)
3 oz Lemonade (I like the Volcano brand, which isn't overly sweet)
6-8 Basil Leaves
1 oz Prosecco

Place basil leaves in the bottom of a glass and muddle, or bring the wood Saints fans. To this add the vodka and lemonade. Add ice and then top with the Prosecco. Enjoy.

PS: Fat Harry's is working towards a Thanksgiving opening, but it may be early December. We will keep you posted with any more updates we get.

Thornton Watermelon Cocktail

Post-Tales of the Cocktail finds my bar is filled with all manners of liquors, cordials, mixers, and miscellany. The vast majority of which requires Googling and consultation with all manners of cocktail books to determine what to do with it. Normally, my favorite flavored vodka is gin; but this bottle of Belvedere Lemon Tea vodka has an interesting subdued flavor. Problem is, I couldn't think of anything to do with it.

The normal roster of vodka drinks (Greyhound, Screwdriver, Moscow Mule, etc...) would have obscured the citrus in the vodka. I needed something to contrast with the vodka.  I happened to be smoking some ribs and was already thinking of  traditional accompaniments to ribs. Iced tea and watermelon are two standards at a barbecue. Luckily, like any well rounded kitchen, I had a mason jar of homemade watermelon syrup in the fridge that we scored on a trip to the Delta. I assume you do as well.

This combination of flavors just made sense but with the added benefit of being delicious. The watermelon syrup adds a nice viscosity to the dink, while the orange bitters and lime juice help to sharpen the drink without enforcing their acidic will.

Thornton Watermelon

3 oz Belvedere Lemon Tea Vodka
1 oz watermelon syrup*
1/4 oz of lime juice
3 dashes of Orange Bitters

Combine the above in a mixing glass. Add ice. Shake for fourteen and one quarter revolutions of the Beatles White album. Strain into a chilled coupe.

* You probably don't have a mason jar of homemade watermelon syrup because you are an anti-Luddite. This is ok. Squeeze chunks of watermelon until you get a half cup of watermelon juice. Add a 1/4 cup of sugar and warm while stirring. Once mixture has reduced by half, strain and cool. That ought to be close enough.

Have Five Daiquiris?

Trust me on this. Today's post was going to be epic showcasing a list of unofficial Jazz Fest cocktails I made last Saturday on those hallowed grounds. But then Wayne Curtis had to go and write about making cocktails for a Bruce Springsteen flyover. Anything you would have read here would have paled in comparison.

Instead we cycle back to a rum cocktail which has sneaked its way into my rotation. I can't say this is an upsetting development. The daiquiri, when made correctly, is the apotheosis of Caribbean drinking. There is sugar, rum, and limes, all necessary ingredients if you wish to avoid scurvy or an afternoon conference call. And as the expression goes, when Ron Jeremy gives you rum, you make daiquiris.  

This daiquiri came about when I found myself with a sizable amount of lemongrass (a story for another day). A lemongrass simple syrup seemed to make sense. The suggestion of a daiquiri made with that simple syrup from Neal Bodenheimer made even more sense. Many tests later here is the proportion for what I consider a damn fine daiquiri. The drink is bright and fresh with a stripper dust finish. I have been drinking these for about two weeks now. Not continuously, of course. 

Ron's Asian Fetish Daiquiri

1 cup sugar, 1 cup water into a sauce pan over very low heat. Stir until all the sugar is combined. Add two stalks of beaten (it releases the oils) and chopped lemongrass. Let steep for twenty minutes. Strain.

4 oz Ron de Jeremy (any dark rum will do)

2 oz lemongrass simple syrup

1 oz fresh squeezed lime juice (about one lime)

Combine the above in a mixing glass over ice. Shake for thirty seconds and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Or put it on the rocks, Captain Schettino. 

The South's Olive

They grow in sandy soil. While they can be eaten raw, more often than not, they are processed prior to ingestion. They can be turned into paste and smeared on bread. They can be pressed to get an oil suitable for nearly any cooking or beauty purpose. They can relax in a salty brine producing an excellent snack. I am speaking of course of the humble giant that is the peanut.

I love peanuts, always have, always will. I still eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, unironically. I carry a year's supply of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups on any boat trip I take, just in case. I enjoy snacking on crunchy, salty peanuts while sipping a cold beer or rum drink. Yet, all of those forms take a back seat to boiled peanuts.

I first encountered boiled peanuts in college when classmates from South Carolina would truck up tubs filled with the brown pods following breaks in classes. Eating a boiled peanut is not at all dissimilar to eating crawfish. First, you place the pod in between your teeth and press gently. If you do it correctly, a tiny slit will rupture, with a gentle inhale your mouth will flood with saltwater. Then pull the peanut from your mouth, peel off the shell and eat the one, two, or three peanuts inside. Lather, rinse, and repeat. You can do this for hours on end, making it a great source of exercise.

The best boiled peanuts come from "green" peanuts which means they were grown using solar energy and transported via a Toyota Prius. They are hard to find down here, so I tend to use raw peanuts when making boiled peanuts. All raw means is the peanuts have been dried. I've tried various techniques of boiling peanuts- overnight soaking, boiling rapidly in heavily salted water, salting after boiling, steeping, and on and on - with differing levels of success. But one day a few weeks ago, the crock pot once again proved its utility. 

Fill a crock pot with peanuts about three-fourths of the way up. Then pour in some cold water. Some peanuts will float on top, don't worry as they will sink eventually. Then dump in a 1/4 cup of salt - you can reseason later anyway. Turn the crock pot on low and go to work. When you come home, stir the pot, and raise heat to high. After another 30 minutes, all of the peanuts should have sunk to the bottom. Turn off heat and let peanuts steep for an hour. Taste. They should be salty enough, but if not, add more salt. They should be soft, but not mushy. You can eat them warm, but for some perverse reason, I prefer cold boiled peanuts. They are even better with the following martini.

A Southern Dirty Martini

A salted olive and a boiled peanut have much in common both in flavor and texture. It is highly probable that the entire idea of adding olives to a martini came about when some inebriated businessmen decided to add the olives which were served as snacks with his martini to his martini. Last year, Jake pointed out his favorite way of drinking martinis is with chilled boiled peanuts. So why use olives from Greece or Spain to season your martini, when a peanut will do? Ice in a glass, add four parts gin and one and a half parts of vermouth. Grab two cold boiled peanuts and squeeze the juice into the glass. Stir with a long handled spoon and then strain into a chilled glass or serve on the rocks. Add three or four shelled boiled peanuts.

What results is a typical martini with a salty, slightly nutty edge - imagine your crazy Uncle Leo distilled into a cocktail. Plus, and trust me on this, a gin soaked boiled peanut is the best way to enjoy the South's olive. 

Club 209 Martini

Let's start with an off color joke shall we?

Why didn't Stalin drink Gin?

It made him mean.

Gin and champagne are two of the more falsely accused alcohols in the ethanol world. "Man, I don't drink champagne, gives me a headache" or "Gin makes me do stupid stuff" are constant refrains. Notice I didn't include tequila. Tequila is a criminal, and whether or not it is guilty of any particular crime, it is guilty of something.

Gin's best expression is in the martini. I'll grant you an afternoon of gin and tonics is no slouch either, but really a martini just feels better. Plus, rarely if ever is there a pair of gin soaked olives at the bottom of a gin and tonic. If there is, it is time to find a new bartender. My liquor cabinet at home has around four or five gins at any one time, each having there own purpose. Hendrix comes out when there is cucumber in the house, Seagram's for gin buckets in the fall, and so on and so forth. But suddenly a sultry, domestic gin walked in the door and she seems to be taking over. Her name even evokes the code riddled world of James Bond, No. 209 Gin.

Distilled in San Francisco, I first ran into No. 209 at Tales of the Cocktail. There were a few bottles in the media room and I grabbed one or fifteen. I went home and poured the gin into a glass and immediately sensed this was unlike any other gin I'd tried. Intensely floral and spicy, but not sweet, the gin also has some background citrus flavors. Hence, you can see why it is just as good with tonic and lime as with vermouth and olives.

So far I've been mixing four parts gin to one part dry vermouth. It's worked for me, I bet it would work for you.

More Fun with Garden Herbs

Remember yesterday when we had a serious discussion about what to do with all that basil? Well, it is far more likely that if you have planted mint anytime in the last 5 years, you still have sprigs of mint popping up all over your yard. So go gather it up and let's get to work.

Tales of the Cocktail is about a month away according to this astrological chart next to me desk. This time of year a young man's thoughts naturally turn to ice cold drinks sipped pool side as one whiles away the days til school starts again. Alas, hark the herald angels sing that tune no more. Face it, once you stop getting summers off, summer is just a hotter version of winter. But you can still find time to drink those frosty beverages you plowed through when you were twenty years old. But let's try and class it up a bit, shall we?

For this drink, I wanted to combine the classic Daiquiri (rum, sugar water, lime) with the minty refreshment of a mint julep. To do this, begin by making a simple syrup. One cup water, one cup sugar, simmered until all the sugar is dissolved. To this, add about two handfuls of mint, which you have slightly bruised by rubbing between your hands. Your hands should now smell better than your first kiss. Let the mint steep for an hour or so, then strain into a bowl. Take the minty sugar syrup and freeze in a ice cream maker or just place into the freezer. Pretty soon you have a slightly frozen mint packed flavor bomb.

Into a cocktail shaker add one teaspoon of the mint sorbet, the juice of one lime, and 2 ounces of rum. I had dark rum, so that is what I used, but white rum would probably be better. Shake, strain into a chilled coupe. Now, see you don't need ice because the sorbet is freezing cold, literally. The result is something akin to a frozen daiquiri without having to wear Ed Hardy shirts.

You could easily drop this mint sorbet into a glass and cover with bourbon. Some people would call that a mint julep, but the Pope calls it dessert.

The Cold Hunger of the Flu

A particularly nasty and juvenile flu has overtaken me. The counter tops at home are strewn with syrupy medicines the color of rubies and emeralds. A pile of Kleenex grows on the coffee table resembling either an artistic rendering of either the Sphinx or an Air Traffic Control Tower. I have alerted Peter that if I do not survive he can have my law school loans.

Of course because it is a cold, I am eating like a refugee who has stumbled upon a grocery store in the middle of Darfur. There are many similarities between the hangover hunger and the cold hunger. For instance, just now, I ate a bowl of fried rice topped with vanilla ice cream. Trust me, it made sense at the time.

Of course soup is always what people tell you to eat when you have a cold. Or better yet they tell you this, "Someone needs to make you some chicken noodle soup."

Has anyone in history actually gotten homemade chicken noodle soup when they are sick? Such a statement is just an affectation - no one really wants to make a sick person soup. See also their next statement, "Don't breath on me."

So since no one will make you soup when you are sick, you have two options: either crack open that red and white can of soup which may have been left over from the previous tenants or make your own soup. Neither of those options will make you feel better. So scratch soup.

If you really want to fix the cold, you need a Hot Toddy. Now, there is a formal definition for this word; we can all debate what that is at the next meeting of Who Gives a Shit Anonymous. I use the term very broadly to mean a drink you fix when fighting a cold. When I lived in the arctic tundra (St. Louis), a spare bottle of brandy, some Grand Marnier, a simple syrup, and orange juice helped me battle what is known as a winter of catching colds and flus. So here it is.

The Flu Fighters

1 oz Brandy
1 oz Grand Marnier
1 Tablespoon Simple Syrup ("Just a spoonful sugar helps the medicine go down, the medicine go down...")
Orange juice, to taste

Combine the first three ingredients in a rocks glass. Stir. Top with orange juice. Chase with a mug of Thera-Flu.

It may not make you feel better, but at least you will fall asleep.

What foods or drinks do you crave when sick? Most original, wins a free copy of this cold.

Thanksgiving is Coming

Don't look now but Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Look, I know you are probably just getting over waking up next to Darth Vader on Monday morning, but let's focus. And taking out your frustrations with Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanzaa/New Years Eve on Thanksgiving is very childish and immature.

Thanksgiving celebrates why we live in America in the first place. First off nothing says prepare for the coming winter like an enormous feast. Second, it is the only holiday centered around a nap. Third, there are football games. However, we do have to detract points for those games always involving Donnie Boy Riguez's Lions. But bonus points as this year the Saints play. Fourthly, Thanksgiving is the only holiday that gives you the next day off as well. Finally, Thanksgiving has the coolest theme song.

The most important part of insuring a successful Thanksgiving is not properly cooking the turkey (which is nearly impossible), but making sure you have a well-stocked bar. How else are you going to put up with relatives from the other side of the political universe than you? Plus it helps everyone loosen up to make fun of Jerry Jones and that guy over there.

Good rule of thumb is to make sure you bar has one of each: bourbon or rye, scotch, gin, and rum. I'd choose handles because unlike fish and houseguests, liquor still smells great after three days. If anyone asks for vodka, hand them gin. They won't know the difference anyway. Now you can jazz up your bar with other stuff. Bitters, rare elixirs from far away lands, and liquors which make men do bad things. But if you go down this route, you are only guaranteeing someone will say, "What? You don't have any Dubonnet?"  or "You mean to tell me you ran out of Orgeat. You know that is the only way I can drink rum."

Soda, water, and tonic would be good to have. Those cherries in formaldehyde are absolutely necessary. A few segments of lemon, orange, and lime go a long way in easing the feud between Aunt Berthel and Uncle Joey. If someone in your family is bringing kids, make sure to have plenty of Champagne in the house as it goes very well with orange juice. Two birds, one stone.

By the way, go to the liquor store this weekend. I know, I know, you don't have time. But you know when you really don't have time to go to the liquor store? The Wednesday before Thanksgiving. In between picking your sister up at the airport, swinging by Honey Baked Ham, and watching your nephew play an oppressive, buckled shoe wearing Pilgrim at the St. Stephen of the Sanctimonious Thanksgiving Theatrical, the last thing you want to do is wade into Cuban Liquor. Because I guarantee you there will be Teetotaler Terry asking the sales staff what is difference between wine and beer. Go now. Trust me.

Your bar is where the party either goes very right or horribly wrong. Remember prior planning prevents poor performance. Now here, is a drink to use up all the Champagne the kids won't finish.We will cover wine another day. We will cover it all because Thanksgiving is coming.

The Fancy Manhattan

To measure, use the Louapre family standard unit of measurement: your God given hands. In a rocks glass, measure out three fingers of decent bourbon or rye. (Somewhere a mixologist/bar chef with a handlebar mustache and Edith Piaf lyrics tattooed on his stomach, cries.) Buffalo Trace or Sazerac Rye is preferable but Old Grandad will do. Remember you want your relatives eventually to leave so don't break out the good stuff.

Now pour this bourbon into a shaker that you have filled with some crushed ice. To this add, 1/2 an ounce of sweet vermouth and a few dashes of bitters. Angostura are called for in the real recipe, but don't fuss too much. These are relatives; not people you are trying to impress.  Shake and strain into the rocks glass which you have either added ice to or not. Your call. Top with a nice glug of Champagne and a cherry.

A Drink in the Office

Recently I received a promotion at real job and was declared the Tsar of Morale. Now, in addition to other duties, it is up to me to make sure people enjoy coming to work. The easiest way to do this, is to occasionally send out a cryptic email on a Friday alerting everyone of a mandatory meeting at 3:30 that afternoon. People show up and instead of powerpoints, insurance forms, or pink slips, there is a bar and some salty snacks. Try it at your office.

I am sure this drink has other more illustrious names and a lineage as well-documented as the Windsor family, but faced with the not well-stocked bar of an office I created this drink. Also, need to commend NolaNotes who turned out to be the MacGyver of the office. She concocted simple syrup out of little more than hot water from the coffee machine, sugar, and sheer will.

Consider morale boosted.

The Milling

2 oz. Sazerac Rye Whiskey
A tablespoon of simple syrup
5 dashes of Peychaud bitters

Combine above in a glass (plastic cups work well), toss between another glass (as if you were mixing a drink at a tailgate), top with a splash of club soda. When I remade it at home, I classed it up with a lemon twist. If you want to do this in the office, save the lemon from your lunchtime Iced Tea.

A Cocktail on the Back Deck

The weather is improving. Notice, I did not say something stupid like "this weather rocks" or "hello fall!!!!!!" Each day the evening heat relents around 5:30, whereas just a month ago 5:30 felt like hottest part of the day. What does this mean? You can start venturing outdoors to enjoy a drink.

Research by science geeks tells us that our taste buds are in a constant state of evolution. For instance, that chicken parmesan you loved from Russell's Marina Grill ten years ago, may not taste as good today. Or olives may now be one of life's great pleasures, whereas just a few years back you hated them.

I first had Campari in the late spring of 2005. Some friends and I were in Venice doing what all young Americans do in Europe: hopping from one bar to another. Hell, Hemingway made a fortune and wrote some pretty good books perfecting that model. We had just crossed a canal, but not the Grand one, and happened upon a bar carved out of the side of the building with a lively scene. We popped in and were promptly handed what the bartender called a "Venetian": Campari, white wine, and a twist of citrus. I thought it was wretched at the time, bitter like a teenager who sketches all day and as abrasive as sandpaper.

Fast forward five years and although I cant explain why Campari is firmly in my drinking rotation. I love it with fresh squeezed orange juice or with a slice of lemon and a jolt of club soda. I can recall when it happened, which helps explain why. While interviewing Patrick Van Hoorebeck at Domenica for an article, he ordered up two "Camparis, as zey would have in Venice" to go along with the assortment of meats, cheeses, and olives on the table.

A bite of salty cheese, a piece of mortadella, and a sip of something refreshingly bitter and it was at that moment, Campari made sense.

The classic Campari cocktail is the Negroni. I mess around with a lot of things, but if a drink withstands the Depression, Fascism, World War II, the Summer of Love, Pet Rocks, and New Kids on the Block, I leave it alone. This is the perfect drink before a big meal or in place of one.

1 oz Campari
1 oz Dry Gin
1 oz Martini & Rossi vermouth rouge (alternatively called at times sweet vermouth)

Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker filled with crushed ice. Shake vigorously, and strain into a chilled glass. Garnish with an orange peel.

2010 Challenge: Damn Fine Sangria

Football season is back. Les Miles is making a stupid decision, the Saints are still undefeated in 2010, and the lights from Tad Gormley burn bright into Friday night. Which can only mean one thing: it is time to get serious about group drinking.

With punches, pitchers of Bloody Mary's, and buckets of gin at the ready, fall is the time for people to gather around a tailgate or television, sip something potent, and curse at Les Miles. Repeated visits to Barcelona Tapas have made it clear Xavier Laurentino makes a mean Sangria. With this in the back of my mind, I set out to make some Sangria. The Sangria turned out great, it even quelled my anger at the Mad Hatter for a brief nanosecond. Who am I kidding, that is a lie.

That's a DAMN Fine, Sangria

You are going to need some fruits, some 7Up, something in or related to the brandy family, and a wine.

Here is what I did. Now "traditionally", Sangria is made with Spanish red wine. But "traditionally" LSU is a well-coached NCAA football powerhouse. Since we aren't really respecting that anymore in Baton Moulin Rouge, what is the harm in monkeying around with Sangria? I used a high acid, crisp French white wine made of Ugni Blanc, the grape for Cognac. As you remember learning in third grade, all Cognacs are brandies but not all brandies are Cognacs.

For the next act of this booze opera, I went with Grand Marnier. Why? It is what was in the cabinet and the bracing, orange hued elixir went well with the 7up and fruits. About those fruits, apple (peeled, cored, and diced), peach (diced), orange (cut into small wedges), and mango (peeled and diced). All the different textures and flavors of the fruit give you at the end of your sangria an alcoholic fruit salad. Which is important should there be screaming children around.

Pitch your fruit into your vessel of choice. A pitcher or football helmet will work. To this add the entire bottle of wine and 1/2 cup of the Grand Marnier (or brandy) and a tablespoon of sugar. Stir to combine, place in fridge, and let this marinate for an hour or so. The longer it sits the more the fruit soaks up the booze and leeches out its fruit flavor.

To serve, pour into a glass, and top with a generous pour of 7up. Or you can just dump about half of the 2 liter (so .5 of a 2 liter) into the pitcher and let it all cool together. But I like adding the 7Up on top. It gives the drink a jolt of fizziness which helps to enhance the refreshing qualities of Sangria.

Feel free to mess around with this recipe, or offer corrections. The point is at some point between now and Thanksgiving, you will find yourself staring down a nearly depleted bar at a tailgate or house party. Behind you throngs of football fans are dying for a cold refreshing drink. There is only a few seconds left to make a decision. You will look around see a magnum of Yellow Tail, some hard alcohol, a few wayward limes and orange peels, and margarita mix. What do you do? Making a drink just for yourself would be like motioning to your QB to snapping the ball with one second left and spike it.

Instead, I suggest you do more with Les.

A View From Behind The Bar

Over the last eight decades, America has gone on quite the ride: the Depression, World War II, the outdoor grilling, luau themed fifties, hippies, women's lib, disco, the cocaine fueled 80s, martini bars, and craft beer. Brian Rea has been lucky enough to witness some of the most exciting events in American history from behind the bar. Rea, 83, will deliver what promises to be a hilarious look at Bartending in the Dark Ages (50's, 60's, and 70's) at this year's Tales of the Cocktail from 10:30-Noon on Saturday. This will be his third time presenting at Tales, "They have no standards, these people. They keep inviting me back," Rea cautions.

As the seminar is rather early for a cocktail party, Rea will greet the attendees with a Ruddy Mary, the gin lover's answer to a Bloody Mary. Rea began bartending in the Fifties, a time when bartenders were second class citizens and few customers ordered anything but the classics. Rea explains, "Manhattans, Aviations, Between the Sheets, Martinis, Scotch. That is what people ordered. The booze was higher proof plus they drank more in bars then in their homes."

Most domestic images of the fifties and sixties center on a housewife raising 2.5 kids then fixing her husband a perfect martini at 5 p.m. Dinner follows at 6 p.m. This idyllic myth continues to perpetuate on shows like Mad Men, a show which Rea consulted on. "That was utter media bullshit," Rea demystifies, "but they got the cocktails right."

Bartending in New York lacked the celebrity cache today's mixologists and bar chefs enjoy. The oldest bartender in the place was in charge of training. Read here: the guy who couldn't find a better job. No one went to bartending school. Bartending was, and still is, backbreaking work. Beer still came in wooden barrels, ice had to be chipped from large whole blocks, no television to distract patrons, no air condition, and perhaps most saddening for Rea, "No broads either working or in the bar."

Wearing a white coat and making next to nothing but constantly observing the operational side of the bar business allowed Rea to work in some of the best New York bars before moving to Los Angeles in the early sixties. In the sixties the whole bar business changed with the debut of the Pill. Suddenly women wanted to burn bras, wear miniskirts, and drink with the men. Cocktails became more elaborate affairs with more descriptive names like Pink Squirrels, Black Cods, and Golden Cadillacs. "And everyone was smoking dope. We had pot, broads. I made Harvey Wallbangers up the Wazoo," Rea says.

Soon Rea found himself working for Host International running airport bars around the world. In 1972, noticing the uniqueness of New Orleans' "drink anywhere" culture, Rea placed a golf cart loaded with hooch in Armstrong International and staffed it with pretty girls in hot pants and go-go boots. The crew listened to air traffic control on a headset. When the girls got the word that Flight 654 or the non-stop from Cleveland was delayed, they drove the cart to the corresponding gate and the party began.

Rea is a man full of opinions and wit. His favorite cities to drink in? "Cities with good public transportation: New York, Chicago, Boston. New Orleans is good, cause no one seems to care about laws. West of the Mississippi, save San Francisco, there ain't one city worth a damn to drink in. The automobile culture killed the drinking culture."

Martini bars? "Bullshit. A creme brulee martini? Get out of town."

His last drink on earth? "A Sidecar. But a real one made with Cognac, not Brandy. And Cointreau, not sweet and sour mix, or Calvados like one asshole tried to serve me. A Sidecar is a beautiful drink when done correctly."

The new age of bartending? "Whatever happened to real bartending? Look the customer is not there to window shop. They want a drink and they want it now. They are more impressed with themselves than they should be. It should not take me four and half minutes to get a God damn drink."

Rea has a host of other anecdotes and stories about his time watching people drink, but it would be best if you heard it from him the horse's mouth on Saturday at Tales.

Sidecar - credit Harry's Bar in Paris

1.5 ounces of VS Cognac
3/4 ounce of Cointreau
3/4 ounce of lemon juice

Shake with ice and strain into a well chilled cocktail glass with a sugared rim. Garnish with an orange or lemon peel.

Let's Get Serious

This weekend's epic matchup between our beloved and noble Saints and the overhyped Cardinals requires the utmost confidence and support from us. Allow me to digress for a moment. Many of us go to bars and occasionally decide to play pool. Most of us aren't all that great at pool, but after 3-4 drinks we reach what is known as the "Zone." This also applies to bowling.

Before you know it, you are winning games handily, careening shots off the bumpers like a guy named Fats, and winning drinks from your opponents. But then boom, your game goes to shit. You scratch, or worse wiff, on the break. Things are starting to get blurry and the next thing you know you wake up in the backseat of a Ford Explorer with a phone number written on the back of a sticker that says Kiss me I'm Irish.

If you are going to the Dome, or cheering at home, you need to be in the Zone. We can't have you black out and doing the Macarena after every Saints touchdown, you can't stick your hand in the urinal to try and grab a cigarette, and please don't pass out in your seat.

So how are you going to get in the Zone? Why by drinking responsibly. Since that isn't going to happen, you might as well drink something that is smooth and refreshing. Such a monumental game requires a drink that makes the God's Happy.

The Rum Bucket (a cousin of the Gin Bucket)

1 Handle of Captain Morgan's Spiced White Rum
1 2 Liter of Sprite
1 Gallon of Orange Juice
3 Cut Oranges (and only three, cut into threes)
2 Turkey basters
Bag of ice

Place ice in 6 gallon bucket and remainder of ingredients, stir. Use turkey basters to squirt in your mouth. Or if you so desire, drink by the glass. Warning: Drinking by the glass is not recommended for amateurs.

If you are staying at home, might I suggest something to keep you busy before the game. How about you braise something. If you do, you can name your dish Drew Braised ___.

As for what I'll be eating, Valium. Straight, no chaser.

Drinkable Holiday Cheer

You are going to be up early at some point during the next few days. We are told that children wake up and unwrap presents from some fat guy who snuck into your house the previous night. So not only do you have to wake up early, but it is likely you need to file a police report and fix a broken window.

If that is the case, you might as well poor yourself a drink. Now, if you have had a few too many the night before, let me caution you away from the Bloody Mary/Screwdriver route. Those cocktails, while restorative at times, have more acid in them than a Phish fan. Instead lets go for something soothing and cooling more in line with Mylanta than a Mimosa.

Chocolate Milk Punch

1.5 ounces of Vodka or Rum
3 ounces of Half-n-Half
2 tablespoons of Powdered Sugar
A generous helping of either chocolate syrup or sweetened cocoa powder
A smidgen of vanilla extract

Combine the liquor, half-n-half, powdered sugar, vanilla, and chocolate of your choosing in a cocktail shaker of crushed ice. Now, I would never advocate hitting a cocktail, but I will shake the shit out of it. And you should as well. Strain into a Mason jar? Why a Mason jar? Because it is what the cool kids are doing.

Shave some chocolate over the top for added effect.

This ratio will also work for brandy or bourbon milk punch, just omit the chocolate and grate nutmeg over the top.

Have a very Merry Christmas, you heathens.

Classic Combinations

Rum, Goldfish, and Peanuts

Peter's summer, summer, summertime nostalgia laced article got me thinking about summer. For me, there are few summers that can compete with the summer when I was twelve. Ok, I will grant you the first summer with a driver's license was pretty stout and summers in college weren't bad. But picture this.

You are twelve, too old for camp, but not old enough to work. You have a Dyno VFR BMX bike and an entire neighborhood to explore. You have approximately 1200 Time-Saver Free Icee coupons saved up from Halloween and your report cards. You have a best friend whose brother just got his license and a hand me down Suburban.

You wake up at 10 am, watch SportsCenter repeats until noon, then go swimming until baseball starts at 4 pm, then head back to the pool and swim under the night sky. By the time you get home, a quick game of Tecmo Bowl or Wednesday Night Baseball was enough to rock you to bed. Throw in a growing awareness that girl's most definitely do not have cooties, and that is a magical summer.

The place where my sisters, friends, and I would swim, always put out Goldfish and peanuts at around 5 pm. Our parents, and the parents of all the other pool rats, would show up, grab a cocktail, kibbitz, and watch us swim. In between trying to execute the Triple Lindy and playing Marco Polo, we would run over to the table dripping wet and grab handfuls of peanuts and goldfish, all the while inhaling the sweet smell of a rum and coke.

My dad has very few rules in life but one rule is this: in the summer you drink rum. Like white shoes and seersucker, rum was only drank between Easter and the first cold snap of fall. Light, dark, or aged, when the temperature rises ice, rum, coke, and lime mix together to produce the perfect afternoon cocktail.

With summer winding down, it is time for one last rum drink. Based slightly on the Dark & Stormy, this cocktail hypes up the subtle creamy, vanilla flavors of a well made rum. Hope you enjoy it.

Adult Cream Soda

Three Fingers Vanilla Dark Rum*
Two Fingers Ginger Ale
Twist of lemon rind

Serve over ice in a tall, cool glass with Goldfish and peanuts for maximum effect.

* If you can not find dark vanilla rum, make a simple syrup and add to it 1 scant splash of vanilla extract. Add a teaspoon of this to the drink. Or if you got the time, soak a few vanilla beans in dark rum for a week or two. You could try some hip designer, vanilla flavored, "light" rum. But then again you could jump off a bridge cause your friends are doing it or stick a fork in your eye. Either way friends.