June 3, 2014
You know I love me some Peter Lovesey (British detective writer extraordinaire), especially his Peter Diamond series, but other stuff too. I figured, until recently, that I had or had seen the majority of his book. But then I was down at Powells in Portland (a bookstore of massive proportions) and they had a number of books by Mr. Lovesey that I’d never seen, including On the Edge, which I picked up and read and dug (well-plotted, nice post-war-London-ness, some scary ladies), especially for this quote, which highlights an old gin favorite:
He always whistled at the prices but it was the only pub in the district with carpets and soft lighting and barmaids who called you “sir,” and Antonia preferred it to anywhere else.
Today he offered her a Gin and It instead of the usual shandy.
She raised her eyebrows. “What’s this for, naught boy? No point in getting me sloshed if you’re going straight back to your boring students.”
“Is it no, then?”
“That’s a little word I never use.”
–Peter Lovesey, On the Edge
May 30, 2014
Another in the get-yourself-ready-for-summer-drinking category, this bubbly number is from the Italian book Cocktails: Classici & Esotici (Demetra, 2002), and definitely gets around, thanks to its thirst-quenching-but-still-strong mix of Scotch, Italian amaretto, dry vermouth (sometimes known as French vermouth), and ginger ale. That’s a trip in a glass people. The original version of this recipe suggests single-malt Scotch, but I like using a nice blended version, which I think works well with the other ingredients (something like Dewar’s is a dandy choice). It also suggests using Disaronno amaretto, which traces its secret recipe back to 1525. This is a suggestion you should follow.
The Foppa (from Dark Spirits)
Ice Cubes
1-1/2 ounces Scotch
1/2 ounce Disaronno amaretto
1/2 ounce dry vermouth
Chilled ginger ale
1. Fill a highball glass three-quarters full with ice cubes. Add the Scotch, amaretto, and vermouth. Stir with a long spoon.
2. Top the glass off with ginger ale. Stir again.
Tags: Cocktail Recipes, Dark Spirits, Disaronno amaretto, dry vermouth, Friday Night Cocktail, ginger ale, Scotch, The Foppa, What I'm Drinking
Posted in: Cocktail Talk, Dark Spirits, Liqueurs, Recipes, Scotch, What I'm Drinking
May 27, 2014
Death Elects a Mayor is a book from 1939, so a big of an older read. And, to be completely honest, I picked it up (wherever it was – book sale of some sort) because the spine (I have the hardback) has a sweet picture of a skeleton. But as a read it turned out awfully fine, a sort-of combination of old skool political backdealings combined with hospital intrigue combined with murder. That’s a good drink right there. And it contains the below quote, which I think is fine, in a 1939 way:
The three men were drinking highballs mixed from a bottle of the mayor’s whiskey standing on a bedside table, and cracking smutty stories while they laid plans for the coming campaign. From their happy expressions the machine must have given signs of functioning smoothly. Most of what they said concerned what they were going to after the election.
—Death Elects a Mayor, James G. Edwards, MD
May 20, 2014
Part two of my re-reading and Cocktail Talk-ing from Chester Himes books continues (part 1 here) continues with a quote from the awesome book, The Crazy Kill. I talk about it more in the first Crazy Kill Cocktail Talk (see it when you look at all Chester Himes Cocktail Talks), but as a quick refresher, it starts at a wake where a man is found dead in a bread basket. And goes from there. Actually, I’m going to be put in two quotes, but the first one is really short – and so perfect if you know a bunch of bartenders. Like I do (luckily). The second is an overview of the wake, and is a dandy party quote (even if a wake isn’t, I suppose, always a party).
‘I ain’t interested in that whiskey jockey,’ Doll Baby said.
The table, sink, sidestands and most of the available floor space were strewn with empty and half-filled bottles – gin, whiskey and rum bottles, pop bottles, condiment bottles; pots, pans and platters of food, a dishpan containing leftover potato salad, deep iron pots with soggy pieces of friend chicken, fried fish, fried pork chops; baking pans with mashed and mangled biscuits, pie pans with single slices of runny pies; a washtub containing bits of ice floating about in trashy water; slices of cake and spongy white-bread sandwiches, half eaten, lying everywhere – on the table, sink and floor.
— Chester Himes, The Crazy Kill
May 13, 2014
I’ve been re-reading some of my favorite Chester Himes books lately (if you haven’t read Chester Himes at all – then get to it, cause he’s one of the real greats – if you have read some of his books, then let me say, re-reading them is well worth it), and realized that when Cocktail Talk-ing them earlier on this blog, I overlooked some choice quotes. Including the below from the book The Heat is On, which stars (of course) the finest Harlem detectives – and best named detectives – Grave Digger Jones and Cotton Ed Johnson, as well as an albino called Pinky.
Mamie Louise was sick and the other all-night greasy spoons and barbecue joints had no appeal. They decided to eat in the Great Man nightclub on 125th Street.
‘I like a joint where you can smell the girls’ sweat,’ Coffin Ed said.
It had a bar fronting on the street with a cabaret in back where a two-dollar membership fee was charged to get in.When the two detectives flashed their buzzers they were made members for free . . .
‘You want stink, you got it,’ Grave Digger said.
‘And everything that goes with it,’ Coffin Ed amended.
Some joker was shouting in a loud belligerent voice, ‘I ain’t gonna pay for but two whiskeys; dat’s all I drunk. Somebody musta stole the other three ‘cause I ain’t seen ‘em.’
— The Heat is On, Chester Himes
May 6, 2014
Every time I find a new Day Keene book, I’m a happy man (check out past Day Keene posts). Recently, I found a reprint book that contains not one, but two Day Keene amazements – and instantly became doubly happy. Put out by Stark House, who does a bunch of other classic pulp reprints, it contains Framed in Guilt and My Flesh is Sweet. Both are worthy reads, in the fast-paced, thrilling way Mr. Keene always played out his mysteries, thrillers, and pulpy goodnesses. The quote below is from the latter book.
After the air conditioned bank, the street was like an oven. Elena blew up a lock of hair the heat had plastered to her forehead. ‘How,’ she asked, unsmiling, ‘would you like to buy me something tall and cold and filled with gin?’
–Day Keene, My Flesh is Sweet
April 15, 2014
Once, long ago, in a galaxy far far away (or, in my office barroom), I surfaced a Cocktail Talk quote from the book Lucky at Cards, by master writer Lawrence Block. If you missed, go read it and all the Lawrence Block quotes now, and catch up on what I think and get the full view. Anywho, now that you’re back, I can say that I missed another quote from that book that is perfect for repeating, and which mentions a couple classic Scotches not so in evidence anymore.
The bartender glanced our way. I asked for Cutty Sark on the rocks for both of us. He didn’t have any. I tried him on Vat 69 and Peter Dawson and he didn’t have those fellows either. We settled on Black and White. He brought it over and Joyce and I touched glasses and drank. Most of her Scotch disappeared on the first swallow. She shivered a little, then let out a sigh.
–Lawrence Block, Lucky at Cards
April 1, 2014
I’ve had a few Cocktail Talk quotes from Lawrence Block books before – I tend to like the older ones, some of which have awesomely been reprinted by the awesome Hard Case Crime folks. The Girl with the Long Green Heart falls firmly into the latter category, as it was originally published in 1955, then reprinted in 2005, and as it’s full of cons, dames (one real serious dame, really), back-dealings, and drinks. No foolin’, just check out the below quotes:
The maître d’ beamed his way over to us, and Evvie said something about Mr. Gunderman’s table, and we were passed along to a captain and bowed through a cocktail lounge and a large dining room into something called the Terrace Room. The tables were set far apart, the lighting dim and intimate. We ordered martinis. “You might as well order big,” she told me. “He’ll be unhappy if I don’t give you the full treatment. This is quite a place, isn’t it? You don’t expect it in Olean. But they have people who come from miles to eat here.” The martinis were cold and dry and crisp. We had a second round, then ordered dinner. She touted the chateaubriand for two and I rode along with it.
—The Girl with the Long Green Heart, Lawrence Block
