March 30, 2010
The last week or two, I reread all the Hoke Moseley books by Charles Willeford. If you don’t them, or Mr. Willeford’s work, and you know how to read, then change your reading patterns. Or get out. That’s how I sound after reading them, but it’s not how they sound, because they’re not as fake tough (and some of the less-detective/etc ones not at all), but what I like to think of as naturalistically insane. Very matter of factly crazy somehow. Hoke Moseley is a Miami detective, who deals with some criminals but also ends up taking care of his teenage daughters and his pregnant partner (well, she’s not always pregnant, as she has a baby in one of them) and various random Floridians. He drinks Early Times mostly (though isn’t opposed to other options) and has false teeth. This isn’t really saying much really about the books, but this might help: I think if I could have one more book written of any series, I might choose to have one more Hoke Moseley book written by Charles Willeford. If that tells you anything (I wonder what other people would pick with this option? What would you choose?) This quote is from Sideswipe, the 3rd of 4 Moseley books.
Frank was in his den, watching a lacrosse game on cable, and Helen was in the living room. She sat at her fruitwood desk, addressing envelopes and enclosing mimeographed letters requesting donations for the Palm Beach Center for Abused Children. She was on the last few envelopes when Hoke joined her in the living room. He poured three ounces of Chivas Regal at the bar, added two ice cubes, and gave himself a splash of soda. Helen looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I’m about finished Hoke. Could you fix me a pink gin please?”
“Tanqueray or Beefeater?”
“It doesn’t make any difference when you add bitters, so I’d just as soon have Gordon’s.”
Because it did make a difference, Hoke poured three ounces of Tanqueray into a crystal glass, added ice cubes, and put in a liberal sprinkling of Angostura bitters. He took a cocktail napkin from the stack and put the napkin and drink on the edge of the desk where Helen could reach it.
“Thank you,” Helen sipped her drink. “This is Tanqueray.”
“There is a difference then.”
—Charles Willeford, Sideswipe
PS: The other Willeford books (not in this series) are also darn fine. Especially The Pick Up (one of the great, and the first book by him I read), and Cockfighter (which was of course made into the fine, fine movie starring the best actor ever, Warren Oates).
February 19, 2010
Listen, just because I like, or sorta like, or have read all the way through, a book, doesn’t mean I have to agree with the quote provided here on the Spiked Punch. Sometimes, I just want to use a quote for education purposes, or to disagree with, or because I think it’s just the rootin-tootin-est. The below falls somewhere in there, but for sure it: comes from a book with a great name (The Corpse with Sticky Fingers), comes from a book written by George Bagby, and illustrates a rule I like to live by (by stating the opposite. See, this is the educating part), which is that you never turn down a pink gin when jump music is on. The inspector might, but me? Never. Even when on the job. Especially when on the job. So, now you know.
She shut the door behind us and turned up the radio. Jump music jumped at us. She made a vague gesture in the direction of the bottle of gin.
“How about a pink gin?” she said
“Not on the job, thank you,” said the inspector.
— George Bagby, The Corpse with Sticky Fingers
January 26, 2010
I don’t know much, but I know I love the song “Starry Eyes” by Mötley Crüe. Do I love the book by Donald Hamilton called Assassins Have Starry Eyes? Not as much, definitely. But I did like it, though I don’t know the Hamilton oeuvre that well (and yes, I did just bust out the “oeuvre.” I rule like that, literarily.) I don’t even know Matt Helm, who’s called out so boldly on the coverm but who isn’t in the book at all. I do know that the book was once called Assignment Murder, but the Crüe never had a song called that (though, in hindsight, maybe they should have). And that it’s a funny jumble of a book, with some mystery, some intrigue, some hard-to-believeness, and some anti-government plot or rigmarole that Donald (if I can call him Donald) seems down on somewhat. I also know that the following quote is a nice kick in the face to those who would drink a pre-made or a poorly made Martini, and that is why I’m quoting it, and why Mötley Crüe would dig the book, because they don’t stand (in leather and thigh high boots) for any bad Martinis.
“Another of the same for me,” he said, pushing a tall glass in her direction. “And a Martini for my son-in-law; and none of that tired old bar mix, sister. Have him make it up fresh: Noilly Prat vermouth and Gordon’s gin, one to five–is that about right Greg?”
“One to five is fine,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “And none of those damn olives sister. Just a twist of lemon. Got it?”
–Donald Hamilton, Assassins Have Starry Eyes
November 10, 2009
Don’t get me wrong now (at least not this time), I love the Gibson. Slightly tougher somehow to me than the Martini (its sibling), with a little edge and longshoreman’s attitude brought in by that right cocktail onion mixing it up with gin and dry vermouth. Yeah, I can drink a Gibson and smile–if it’s the right cocktail onion. Recently, I got a bottle of Saucy Mama cocktail onions, and liked them lots in my Gibson (or, Gibsons, to be accurate). They’ve got good onion flavor without getting any sour, a touch of saltiness and tang, and when mixed with 2-1/2 ounces of Voyager gin (which has that classic London gin attitude that makes a Gibson hum) and 1/2 ounce of dry vermouth magic of the right sort blooms (sure, that’s flowery, but there’s no need to shy away from the flowery side here and there). The only problem is, even with my Gibson love, I’m not sure I’ll use up the whole bottle of onions anytime soon. I could have a Gibson party (that might be fun), but I thought it’d also be fun to ask out there if anyone, anywhere, knows another delicious cocktail that features the cocktail onion? I have to imagine there are some–so let me know what they are. Or make one up. You’re creative, right? For inspiration, just gaze longingly at the below picture of my Gibson. Mmmm, cold gin, vermouth, and onions.
October 16, 2009
Okay, maybe I should have gone with the “Shaking and/or Stirring Writer Alert,” as in the below pic Mr. Regan is making a drink, and not actually drinking a drink. But, I promise you he did, indeed, drink one of the drinks he made. I promise. And, to be honest, I just wanted to have more than one “Drinking Writer Alert” (the first being the happy-go-luckiest poet, Ed Skoog, in this post) and hadn’t yet been sent any other pictures of drinking writers. So there.
And, Gary (or Gaz, as he’s now known from Tempe to Timbuktu) definitely fits the “Drinking Writer” name, as you probably know. But on the off chance you don’t, he’s one of the foremost drink writers in the world (the universe, even. The multi-verse, even , for you who’ve read a lot of What If? comics). The below picture was actually snapped at an evening celebrating his newest book, the bartender’s GIN compendium. I detail the book in more in-depth fashion on this Al Dente blog post, but in case your finger’s broken and you don’t feel like clicking, let me give you, as they say, the skinny. The bartender’s GIN compendium is a sweet book all about gin: history of gin, 250 recipes (or more) utilizing gin, and tasting notes and information on many, many specific kinds of gin and gin cousins and gin uncles and aunts, and gin pets, even. It’s a book for gin lovers, natch, but also a book for cocktail lovers, history lovers, and genial drunks who know how to read. Mr. Gary/Gaz Regan not only knows his gin (and drinks), but also is a darn witty fellow, and almost as fun to read as it was to meet him in person (but not quite: ain’t nothing like the real thing, as the song reminds us).
Which, to reiterate, I did, recently, at a lovely evening sponsored by the fine folks at Plymouth Gin. Beyond just talking gin, we hit the underground tour in Seattle (prostitute talk a’poppin, as it seems Seattle was once all prostitutes and mud), and then wound up at the Rob Roy. Which is where Gaz made himself and me (and Mr. Robert Hess, too) the drink he’s making below. The only down side? I don’t know exactly what drink it is–and it was darn good. It had gin, for sure. Vermouth? You bet. Bitters? Uh-huh. But what proportions? And did he pour in anything else? It was tasty, but darn it, I didn’t watch closely enough. Now, I’m going to have to track him down and have him make me another. Wait, that doesn’t sound bad at all.
September 8, 2009
Hey, happy Mon-Tuesday. Just hold off before calling me calendarily challenged. I know today is really Tuesday, and that there is no Mon-Tuesday day. But as it’s the day after a Monday holiday, all of us working slobs (those who work the regular work-week at least) going back to work feel like it’s a Monday, cause it’s the first day of the week with the good times that entails (sing it now, good times, any time you need a favor), but it’s actually Tuesday. Hence the Mon-Tuesday. What does this mean in the world of boozing and spiking of punches? That it’s a fine time for a quote by Hal Masur (who in his full name is Harold Q. Masur, as seen in this post about Suddenly a Corpse), from a book in his Scott Jordan series. Scott’s a lawyer, see, when that meant more than a bad film adaptation and a southern accent. What it means is he drinks hard, rumbles with jerky DAs, snuggles up with any number of hourglass figures, and then solves mysteries and murders. The kind of lawyer a boy or girl can admire, and aspire to being (or hiring). You know, as it is Mon-Tuesday, here are two quotes from Tall, Dark and Deadly: one martini one, and one bar one. Enjoy them, and then go litigate yourself something cold and strong (whatever that means).
“Thirsty Scott?”
“Parched. I’d like a martini, very dry.”
She went to a portable bar. “One martini, coming up.”
“May I help?”
“I know the formula,” she declared loftily. “Gin, vermouth, and cyanide.” She prepared the ingredients in a chrome shaker, applying the vermouth with an atomizer, and substituting a twist of lemon peel for the cyanide. I drank. It was very dry indeed and the gin left me a trifle lightheaded.
“Another?” she asked?
“Not unless you can handle me.”
“Does that mean I have to get you drunk?”
“Helps. I’ve very shy.”
I entered and perched on a bar stool. The place was humming with activity. Regardless of the hour or the temperature, it seems that a large number of citizens continuously suffer from parched throats. In order to accommodate this drought the city has spawned a thousand watering holes that serve no water. This one was indistinguishable from its cousins.
I ordered Canadian ale and got a glass of Milwaukee stout.
—Tall, Dark and Deadly, Hal Masur
September 1, 2009
Happy salivating September folks. Welcome to another month where you should be trying to have as many cool and creative cocktails as you can consume without causing chaos (or making you miss too many mornings). The reason, you might ask, if you were the asking kind, that September is so salivatious? It’s because of this very blog post, where I’m going to cut at least some of the chatter off the tree and present you with a few more almost drinkable photos from the San Francisco trip I had not all that long ago (and which I detailed a bit in a post you probably remember fondly called Drinks on the Road: San Francisco, Part I). But before the drink pics (hah, I always do this: set up, then aside), a quick shout out to my pals at the wondrous Chow.com, who brought me in to Chow HQ while I was in San Francisco to shoot some tips. And no, tips aren’t an endangered species (wow, the jokes come at a fast pace here at Spiked Punch), and yes I’ll post some later. But first, check out me preening while camera-person extraordinaire Blake Smith sets up a limoncello shot. You can’t see her here, but pal Meredith Arthur is taking the pic, directing things with calm and aplomb like she did all day (not easy to do when dealing with a diva like me).
After the tipping, I made a quick change into my Bob Fossil t-shirt, and then headed out to meet Meredith and her-husband-and-pal Michael for a drink at Range in the Mission (for more on Range, be sure to check out the blog Inside the Blood Bank). It was a sweet little spot, and M & M are great drinking companions (though I somehow managed to forget to take a pic of them, which is a shame, as they’re cuties) and I got to have a (drum-roll here) Zyzzyva cocktail. Not only was it a tangy-herby-august mixture of gin, yellow Chartreuse, apricot brandy, and fresh lime, but it was a tangy-herby-august mixture of gin, yellow Chartreuse, apricot brandy, and fresh lime named after the magazine (that I love) that published my first book, Want. Dang, that’s what’s listed under the definition of “Awesome.”
The next day after that (please, please, don’t ask me to name what day it was though), Nat I had a day of drinking delights. You know, I should copyright that phrase for my new tour guiding service (you know, I should have a tour-guiding service). “A.J.’s Day of Drinking Delights.” You’d sign up, right? Our first stop was in the middle of Chinatown (forget about, it’s Chinatown. No, no, don’t forget), where we slipped into the Budda Bar, a lovely little dive we had to ourselves, along with the amiable bartendress and the owner, who kept coming up to talk to us from the basement. We charmed him (natch), and he introduced us to the following unknown Hong Kong sipper (he insisted we swirl it around our mouth and teeth before swallowing though, as it’s not a shooter). I hadn’t had said spirited drink before, but it had a very powerful, not harsh, sense about it, like a good strong peasant grappa.
That night, we met pal Megan (from HCP and the A Year in the Life Beatles blog no less) at the Clock Bar, which is a stylish spot situated in the classic Westin St. Francis hotel downtown. It’s managed by a dapper and friendly fella name Matthew Meidinger, who not only helped me out recently with an article (which I’ll talk about when it comes out), but who also treated us to a few of the Clock Bar’s perfectly made cocktails that night, starting out (for me) with a slightly savory Sage Advice, a drink that could stand tall at any bar with its combination of Rittenhouse rye, Italian-specialty Averna amaro, fresh orange juice, black tea honey syrup, and good pal Peychauds bitters. I might like that drink so much I’d let it take my dogs for a walk.
Matthew not only ensured we had a host of helpful (well, why not?) drinks at the Clock Bar, but he also pointed us towards the Heaven’s Dog for dinner and more drinks, calling ahead to assure us a spot, getting us a cab, and making sure we didn’t trip on the way out the hotel. I tell you, if you’re in S.F. and don’t visit the Clock Bar, you only have yourself to blame. For that matter, if you don’t visit it and Heaven’s Dog, then you shouldn’t even talk to yourself any more. Because Heaven’s Dog was also, well, heavenly. General Manager Erik Adkins met us at the door and swept us off our feet with his genial good nature and miles of smiles. What is it about S.F. and friendly bar folks? Sometimes it’s best not to question, and instead just be happy with your fine fortune (a phrase sounding somewhat fortune cookie like). At Heaven’s Dog we had multiple snacks from the dinner menu, which is set up for sharing and which has a Vietnamese flavor (like Vietnamese tapas, someone said)–perhaps the tops was the vegetarian pork belly, tofu skin, shiitake mushrooms, clam shell buns, and scallion–and all was yummy. But the drinks, the drinks were even yummier. Ours were made by the also-friendly and very knowledgeable Eric Johnson. He’s opening (by the way) a new spot called Bar Agricole in the very near future, so keep your eye open for it (and your mouth wide open). Eric made us a whole host of cocktails and highballs and their brethren and sisteren. Sadly, we didn’t take too many photos, as we were busy talking, drinking, and eating, and those we didn’t take we went flashless on (not to mention that I put the monkey book away, so am guessing a bit on what we had). But here’s one nice pic of Eric I think putting the finishing touch on a Gin Fizz Tropical, which was gin, pineapple gum syrup, orgeat, lime, egg white, mint, and soda:
Ah, San Francisco and the many bars and just outstanding people on both sides of them. Hopefully we make it back soon. And if the above didn’t get your “thirsty” button pushed, then you must be a zombie. Except that even a zombie would be thirsty after those pictures. So, go get your zombie-self a cocktail, why don’t ya?
Tags: Almost Drinkable Photo, Budda Bar, Chow, Clock Bar, Drinks on the Road, Gin, Heaven's Dog, Range, recipe, Rickhouse, Rye, San Francisco cocktails
Posted in: Almost Drinkable Photo, Bars, Drinks on the Road, Gin, Rye
August 25, 2009
If you don’t already know, Wino magazine is not a magazine catering solely to drunken reprobates. Though they probably are okay with that readership, too. It’s really a magazine all about Washington wines. And it’s free, and you should pick up every copy you can, cause the guys that put it out are fine fellows and very devoted to their wines (so devoted they drink about a cask a week. Ba
-dump-bump). After a few glasses with Doug, the editor-in-chief, this summer, I convinced him that wine lovers would also be wine cocktails lovers with the right edging on, and also convinced him that the magazine should highlight a few of the fantastic new Washington spirits distilleries in an upcoming issue, because they’re new and deliver delicious product and need to be more known.
Little did I know that he’d be okay with me writing the article (I was okay with it, because it meant I got to visit the Pacific and Soft Tail distilleries and hang out with Mark and Dennis, the friendly and super knowledgeable distillers) and that he’d put a big review of the new book Wine Cocktails in the same issue as the article. Holy booze-tastico friends, that makes for a heck of an issue. Now, this doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have a hard copy (it’s free), but Wino also puts most of the articles on their site, so you can read the Wine Cocktails review and Be Still My Heart (the article about Pacific Distillery and Soft Tail Distillery) right from the safety and comfort of your work desk, or home desk, or couch if you’re all wireless’d up. There is also a recipe using Pacific’s Voyager gin and Absinthe Pacifique and a recipe using Soft Tail’s grappa after the article (forget the recipe header that says “Wine Cocktail recipes”–these aren’t necessarily that, but are necessarily tasty). While at the Wino site, I suggest checking every nook and cranny out, especially the online only A Bottle a Week feature (cause wine is healthy and you need more). But enough of me–head on over to Wino and start swilling.
