After my below post about the Champagne of malt liquors, Champale, pal Philip (who writes a blog about the cutest girl in the world) was kind enough to send me a few choice Champale items he found, items which are now bound to be sitting atop yr holiday gift wish list. Because I know you love Champale. Admit it. You love it in the best way possible, which is by wearing this lovely Champale badge (I know I’ll be wearing one):

I especially like the smell lines coming off. And where better to wear your Champale-badged attire, then in your home bar, under your Champale light (I almost feel like I’m announcing a showcase showdown here):

Though really, that light is too modern for me. Give me the class of the oldies, the aged Champale, or at least this aged Champale light:

Now that’s classy. You know what’s best of all? You can buy both lights, and then have a whole Champale room, and, for that matter, buy a whole bunch of Champale badges and make a complete Champale outfit, and then send a picture of you in it, standing under your lights, to me, and I will post it here. Promise.

I’ve enjoyed some Early Times Kentucky bourbon in my time (as has Hoke Moseley, detailed below). But I’ve never received it “handsomely wrapped at no extra cost.” Which is probably why my eyes never went to the wacky angle like the lady’s below–looking directly at her man’s neck? Adam’s apple? She looks a little frightened too, right? There is fear in those eyes. Maybe she knows what Early Times does to her man? Or maybe she forgot to wash her hair this morning and is worried that he’s smelling it without having a drink first, ruining the Early Times’ bouquet? Or maybe (shudder to think) he’s giving her a bit of a spanking in the part of the photo we can’t see, because she was supposed to buy the Early Times yesterday and forgot? Did I take it too far? It is Friday, and something about this is eerie to me. Maybe I need some Early Times, is my problem. Or maybe the 50s weren’t all well-wrapped bourbon and flowers.

Okay, I’m just thirsty. So thirsty I don’t have the energy to write the full-on over-the-top legendary journey of cocktails blog post I want to write about the weekend before last, a weekend of amazing cocktails that would leave every other blog post in the dusty dust, that would make you want to stroll in my shoes (or at least borrow my throat and tastebuds for awhile), a blog post that would involve at least 74.5% of the top cocktail creators in Seattle, and me tasting their drinks, a blog that would make you drool like George the Animal Steel before a cage match, a blog that might just have you (if you don’t live in Seattle already) running screaming to your suitcase, packing said suitcase, and getting a ticket here poste haste, a blog that if you already lived in Seattle would make you instantly descend to the floor crying tears of joy in front of your liquor cabinet, shelf, or box, happy that you could follow my footsteps in cocktails, a blog that might just cause the whole internet to go silent as a lonely ice cube due to everyone shaking off the electronic shackles to go on a drinks quest, the blog I want to write but just am too thirsty to write (but write it, someday, I will), so instead I’m just writing this post about how much I’d like to be drinking an Athenian at Cicchetti, a drink made with Metaxa, Martini and Rossi Bianco vermouth, and Scrappy’s grapefruit bitters, the very drink pictured below. Look at it, friends, and dream along with me (and if you’re not on the Scrappy’s bitters wagon, then get on it.)

Oh, poor pouty Muffy dear–she’s run out of the most delectable beer. Schlitz. I like Schlitz okay (though it’s harder to find these days, or at least hard for me, thank you very much WA state liquor board), and a nice American lager in the lighter style. And, it’s the “beer that made Milwaukee famous.” But no one likes Schlitz as well as Muffy in the below ad. Look how sad she is–you’d think someone just canceled her deb ball. She does have a cute pout though. And look at those nails! And the dress, with sparkles. Schlitz is much more of a playa beer if it’s pulling Muffy’s lush lower lip down. I think I’m gonna go track down some Schlitz. Right now. And then track down Muffy, and turn that frown upside down with the healing power of cheap beer.

After having a spread in Penthouse, I wasn’t sure my happiness could get any higher (well, outside of someone making a Dr. Strange movie with Neilalien directing), but then pal and bartending genius and good-natured fella Andrew Bohrer put me in the best blog post ever, which is on his blog Cask Strength. It’s all about bartending-and-cocktailian-and-drinking-and-drink-writing folk that Andrew has met or sipped with or had to throw out of his bar, people that he has now artistically made into Lego people. It’s amazing and I was lucky enough to be Lego’d in it. Not only did he get me little lego shorts and a nice shirt (and matched my hairstyle) but he said “always showing off his legs and books”–that, I love. There are also many other Lego’d drinky folks, including amazing people like the King, Dale DeGroff, and Paul Clarke from the Cocktail Chronicles. You should check it out right now, not only for the Lego-ing madness, but also for Andrew’s humor and writing style, too. He will have you laughing all the way to the bar.

I don’t usually think of my brown liquors (such as those in Dark Spirits—and yes, that was a blatant book shout out) in kissy-face terms. I mean, they’re often easy going down, and flavorful, and delicate in their whiskey-scotch-brandy-darkrum-etc way, but I still rarely utilize “smooching,” or “tongue-wrestling,” or “suck-face,” or “making out” when describing them, or even more rarified terms like “lip locking.” Which is dumb of me. Cause I’ve always thought kissing drunk people (only tipsy wife Nat for many years, of course) was dandy. And if they’ve been bourbon-ing or dark-spirit-ing, even better (as long as no smoking is involved, cause kissing a smoker is like kissing an ashtray’s ass). That (all that, rambling around) may be why I dig the Inver House Scotch ad below. Sexy, isn’t it? Besides the facts that her neck was probably broken to get that angle, and that Inver House isn’t as adored as it once was (at least it doesn’t seem to be among drinkers I know). Think of this ad next time you’re kissing, and then tell that favorite him/her, “You’re soft as Scotch.” I’ll bet you get even more kisses. Or slapped. One of the two.

Everyone is asking it: was Champagne created by the devil (providing your belief system has a devil in it–if not, just fake it for now) to entrap people into getting loopy and lustful as the old year ends? I mean, we do consume a lot of Champagne and bubbly (and Champagne and bubbly cocktails, one hopes, to get away from the mundane-ity) this time of year, and it is sort-a like the death of the year, and the devil is on people’s minds when they think of death. And drunken revelry has mistakenly been touted as evil before (when, in actuality, it is really full of goodness a full 87.463% of the time). What do I think about the whole “Champagne was created by the devil” rigmarole that’s being tossed around so much on TV news shows and talk radio? Well, let’s see what the ads say, because advertising is the most trustworthy business there is (after used-car selling, prostitution, and the NBA). First, check out this ad, from way back in 1908 (I think):

You see the devil is, actually, involved, using the bubbly to entice a lovely young maiden and a dancing, prancing (romancing), satyr. Or is it a faun? Or just a drunk kid? I get those confused. Wait, what’s that you say? The woman is pouring the bubbly for the devilish character? That makes it less probable that he created it. But wait, though, wait (again), what about this ad from a little later in history:

Here, mean ol’ scratch is pouring it out with an evil grin. No doubt about it. Well, maybe a little doubt. I mean, he is pouring it a long way–why would he want to potentially spill what he created? It almost seems like he’s showing off his bar skills, maybe looking for a new gig behind the stick, and not trying to drunky up the masses at all. Maybe, just maybe, the devil didn’t create Champagne in the least bit (and maybe, just maybe, I’m just devil’d up from reading too many pre-code devilish horror comics during The Horrors of It All’s Devilcember). Wait, though, wait (again): this last ad below definitely points to the possibilities of the devil at least being associated with Champagne. Because if this isn’t a minion of the devil pushing the Champagne in the ad, I don’t know my religious cosmology:

Okay, wait, though, wait (one last time): I think I get it, finally. The devil is only responsible for Champagne or bubbly in a can. I think I can believe that. Now, go stock up for New Year’s Eve, devilish ones, and don’t forget to save a glass of bubbliciousness for me (as long as it’s poured from a bottle).

I’m not saying I won’t post again before any more holidays hit in the second to the last week of 2009 (I’ll definitely post again before 2010, so c’mon back y’all), but just in case I don’t, and in the spirit (and spirits) of the season, I wanted to wish every reader of this blog (all four of you, or five when certain people are out on parole) a happy and boozy holiday of your choice and holiday season. Now, it might seem like my sentiments would be enough, but because I’m always willing to go the extra mile (or mile of bottles), I brought in hunky (still) Sean Connery and a bottle of Beam to help with the wishes. Go on, fill up a glass and look into his eyes . . . that’ll make your holiday extra happy, I promise (unless you pass out from the dreaminess. Well, that might make your holiday happier, too).

Why are modern booze ads so lame? There’s always some moodily lit scene with some medically enhanced bimbo and a guy wearing a billion dollar suit, or the same bulimic piece-of-work at the pool wearing so little fabric that Gypsy Rose Lee would blush (not that I mind, completely, but the IQ should at least be higher than the number of feet of water in the pool), or a talking horse or lizard, or some knuckleheads trying to come up with an asinine catch-phrase (“what it isssssss” or “hey yeahhhhhhh”) that trails off into a series of consonants boring enough to make you drink, sure, but only anything besides what’s being advertised. Instead of this jibber-jabber, let me present the below ad, which pal Philip (check out his baby, the cutest in the land, at the blog A Lifetime of Worry) sent me, after he found it on the Edwenden blog, which took it from the March 1953 issue of Men Only. The incredibly happy and devious cat is drinking the rum, after the high-kneed kid poured it in the bowl, as father looks on sadly. That, friends, is the definition of genius. The cat is drinking the rum–and look at his eyes! Genius. And I am going to buy a bottle of Lemon Hart rum right now. Which shows that genius ads can work.  

Sorry, I had to drop a little Frankenstein (from the original movie, of course, which rocks, and not the later version, which sucks) in, not because my newest book Wine Cocktails is monstrous (well, maybe, if I can be so bold, full of monstrously tasty drinks), or because it has bolts around the neck area, or because it’s shot in black and white or something (it’s shot in color by genius photographer Melissa Punch), but no, because the monster would have loved the world a little better, and vice versa, I think, if they would have shared some wine cocktails together. Cause the cocktails in the book are all about sharing, and all about wine cuddled up with other delish ingredients, and all about goodness, darnit. I plan to put up more about the book, including some recipes, and notes about a release party, when I get back from Italy–but I wanted to let you know that the book is available now, cause I feel I should. And maybe you’re interested. Oh, yeah, if you missed it in that last sentence, I leave for Italy in about 24 hours, so my irregular blogging will become more irregular. But I’ll be thinking of you (yes, you) while over there eating and drinking and living la dolce vita. So, for at least a couple days, ciao bellas. Oh, before I go, here’s a pic from the new book, and, as a teaser, here’s the first phrase in the first headnote to the first recipe, “By Jack Lord, this should transport you.” That says it all folks.