Aw, the good life. I like the idea of the good life (though I have to imagine that it’s slightly different for everyone, but have to hope that for at least 95.47% of the people it involves having a drink with friends at least once in a while). And it seems others, even with their varied and various definitions like the idea of the good life, too. So much so that there is now a very handy, attractive, and fun website out there called The Good Life Report, that talks about dining, drinks, travel, wellness, and more items one might associate with living goodly, usually focused around a particular city or place or event or situation. Good things. Things I like. Which is why I was tickled when they wanted to use my Sazerac recipe for the most recent report (and pal Melissa Punch’s fantastic photo of said Sazerac), the one from Dark Spirits. Go check it out. And, if you like the good life,  too (and really, who likes the bad life? Outside of Doctor Doom?), sign up for their newsletter, and get the good life delivered to your inbox.

PS: Bonus points (meaning, a drink on me next time we’re together) for anyone who can pick out the extra sentence or two that are in the Good Life Report Sazerac intro paragraphs but not in Dark Spirits. That’s a challenge people.

Okay, I know I tend to write about booze here (I mean, the blog is called “Spiked Punch”), but I figure my lovely readers would also like to know how to make the world better by picking up on the Double Take philosophy. Not sure what that means? Well, then you should check out the book I wrote with pal (and mastermind chef) Jeremy Holt, entitled Double Take: Feeding Vegetarians and Omnivores Together, One Fabulous Recipe, Two Finished Dishes. The book (as you might expect, but hey, just in case it’s not so clear) is designed to teach folks to make meals for both vegetarians and meat-eaters–at the same time. Instead of serving separate dishes for each side at the table, it brings people together. Instead of causing you, the cook, to tear out your hair wondering how to make different dishes for separate culinary needs, it helps you put together one meal that meets all tastes and bridges that once-divided table. To accomplish this worthy and delicious end, it has six chapters with recipes that (in almost every case) deliver a meat and veggie version by the end of the last instruction, and tells how to make the recipe all meat or all veggie, too. Here are the chapters, arranged in entertaining and cook-friendly fashion:

Sundry Snacks

A Brunch Bunch

Soups, Salads, and Sandwiches

Comfort Entrees

Entertaining Entrees

Satisfying Sides

There is also a jumping introduction that provides helpful hints for stocking your kitchen (what cookware, cutlery, gadgets, and small appliances you might think about buying), and then goes through Meat Alternatives 101 (both classic meat substitutes and newer models) in case you need a refresher. If that isn’t enough to get your mouth watering and to intrigue your culinary mind, the Double Take (which is, by the way, available in paperback and hardback for your shopping pleasure) also has a host of handy and heroic sidebars, covering an assortment of helpful hints and techniques, from Jeremy’s sauce basics (on page 7), recipes for sauces hollandaise and béchamel (on page 168), bacon bests (on page 195), and stock reducing (on page 88) to A.J.’s hints for draining tofu (on page 44) and baking tofu (on page 48), and much more. So, don’t hesitate–head on into the Double Take to avoid any wrasslin’ over the grill (like in the below photo) and to ensure that you make memorable moments around a table that’s brimming with delicious dishes for everyone. Cause that’s what it’s all about.

It’s winter (at least within the latitudes I reside within), and I’m dreaming a bit of summer, of sitting outside with a cold, tall, delish beverage, far away from today’s actual chilliness. And when I dream of summer, I always like to wonder: what would androids in the future drink, if they had a head full of LSD and had been swimming? You, I’m guessing, wonder the same thing. Luckily, there’s a little pamphlet that was put out in 1976 called Summer Comfort that tells us: they drink Southern Comfort. If you don’t believe me, take a gander at the cover of said pamphlet below. Have you ever seen a better representation of drugged-up soaking wet androids? I didn’t think so.

PS: Because androids and their robot brethren and sisterthren bleed out milk, I’m guessing the actual drink from the pamphlet they’re most fond of is the “New! Cow Shot.” Which is 1-1/2 ounces Southern Comfort, 1/2 ounce crème de cacao, and 3 ounces cold milk over ice. It’s “superb, no bull!”

Okay, full disclosure straight up: the bar manager at the new (as opposed to the older version from a few years ago) Mistral Kitchen in Seattle is a pal of mine. A good pal, even. His name’s Andrew Bohrer, and I’ve blogged about him before, cause he makes damn good drinks, and isn’t all snooty about it (and his blog Cask Strength is full of booze and cursing, which is nice). Heck, I’ve heard him praise PBR as casually as Pappy’s 15-Year bourbon. Here he is, getting busy with pouring:

This all means that when wife Nat and I went to Mistral recently (during the “soft opening” phase) we were probably going to be pretty forgiving, if needed. But to get around the whole “of course you’ll say nice things, you know them” I’m going to keep commentary at a minimum, and go the photogenic route (which is great for me, cause I’m, well, hot and so inclined to like the photogenic route). The quick summary, though, before the photos (did you think I’d back out of editorializing completely?): the savory food was still being worked out, but solid ingredient choices, if pretty straightforward preparations (this on the veggie side); the dessert-y food was interesting and delicious and architectural and a step above the savory right now; the cocktail food was, well, great. Now, onward. We had some roasted veggies, but they weren’t as good as the wood-roasted mushrooms:

And we had a vinaigrette’d green salad (good, but pretty spare), which wasn’t as good as the cheese plate:

With the meal, Nat had an Aviation cocktail (we both went classically at first, picking off the old-school short bar menu), which was dreamy and cloudy like a cloudy dream:

I had the Mint Julep, which was made just right, with the right crackity-cracked ice, the right metal julep cup, and the right healthy amount of bourbon. Pretty, even:

For dessert, we had the Ultra Brownie, and it was ultra creamy chocolate goodness, but topped, I felt, by the Walnut Honey Cake (the desserts, made by chef Neil Robertson, both kicked sugary ass though), which came with rich figs and homemade (natch) chestnut ice cream:

With desserts, Nat had a fresh cocktail that Andrew had recently been working on (as an aside: isn’t it always swell to be able to be one of the first to taste a new drink? I think it’s swell), which mixed 1 ounce gin, 1/2 ounce kirsch, 1 ounce blanc (not dry) vermouth, and 1/2 ounce orgeat. It was really jumping (or frolicking) with the balance of dry to sweet right on. And, he called it the Tauntaun. Geeks, rejoice:

For my last drink, I had a Fernet Old Fashioned, which Andrew had been telling me about, and about who originally created it, but now I can’t find the email. Maybe he’ll be so kind as to leave the info and the instructions in the comments. Though he is busy. But not that busy (so get to it, Andrew). Anywho, before starting an online booze war, let me say that I dig Fernet, and this drink was the tops. I love the phat orange rind, and the ice ball, and the bitter-after-dinner experience that is summed up in this glass:

That’s the Mistral Kitchen kids, well worth a visit, especially if you belly up to the bar and let the cocktails roll. Just be sure to order a drink with an orange peel:

I (along with wife Nat) got the nicest batch of ginger snaps recently from pal Jill M (her husband, pal Ed, has a book just out called Mister Skylight that you should buy, by the way). The snaps were a bit more cookie-y than many ginger snaps (so, not crisp like some traditional ginger biscuits, and nowhere near ginger nuts, or, for that matter ginger balls. And yes, I just said ginger balls. But now my traffic skyrockets), but with goodly ginger flavor and a little bit of chewiness. I liked them lots, and ate lots of them. But then I started thinking: there is a baker’s dozen of them, maybe I should make a drink using them as a garnish? This is the way my mind works. And, I was also thinking (I have up to three trains of thought at once: right now, they consist of writing this post, thinking about a post on the comics blog Progressive Ruin that combines Adam West Batman with Dark Night Batman, and musing about how the leaning tower of Pisa doesn’t fall over) that with the holiday season you might want to know about a drink that uses ginger snaps as a garnish. Cause the snaps tend to show up this time of year.

So, I wanted a ginger-y drink, but one also with some other funtastic flavors. Which led to me playing around with this VeeV Acai (it’s a super fruit!) Spirit I’d had sent to me recently and Domaine de Canton ginger liqueur. The Veev is pretty sprightly with some tropical hints, the DdeC is very gingery and touch sweet, and at first the playing around wasn’t coming out quite right–until I added ol’ reliable, sweet vermouth. Its bit of holy herbal-ness completely rounded out the edges of the other two, and all-of-sudden I was in ginger-island-holiday-paradise. I suggest you stock up on all of the ingredients so you can get to this paradise, too (and because you may just need a drink before the month’s out. The holidays aren’t all sunshine).

Ice cubes

1-1/2 ounces VeeV Acai spirit

1 ounce Domaine de Canton ginger liqueur

1/2 ounce sweet vermouth

Ginger snap or cookie, for garnish

1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add everything except the cookie. Shake well.

2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with that cookie (I had to notch it just a bit for proper rim balancing. But after that, I did a lot of dunking with it).

It’s Thanksgiving week, which means I’m too busy stretching my stomach to post much (and to anyone who says, “you don’t post much on any week” I say “go soak your head”), but I did want to remind you to save a little cranberry sauce from the big feast so you can be sure to have your Gizmo on Friday. Or Thursday night. Cause you wouldn’t want to miss out.

Wait, what, you don’t know the Gizmo? Well, it’s a dandy way to utilize those leftovers, a cocktail created for this very purpose by bar-and-kitchen-and-drug boy genius Jeremy Holt, aka, the HuksyBoy. Here’s the lowdown:

Ice cubes

2-1/2 ounces gin (Aviation is nice)

1 ounce homemade cranberry sauce

1/2 ounce simple syrup (optional)

1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the gin and cranberry sauce, and syrup if using (if you’re not into the sweets, omit the syrup). Shake exceptionally well.

2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a turkey leg. Or, for vegetarians, a hunk of stuffing on a toothpick.

A Note: Not sure about making homemade cranberry sauce? Try this (also courtesy HB): Add 1 bag cranberries, the juice and zest of 1 orange, and 1 cup sugar to a saucepan. Heat until required sauce texture is reached.

Now, you know why you need to save a little sauce. And why you should buy that Jeremy a drink next time you see him.

Well, as much as I’ve loved the Chow tips (which have been loved by Leslito and Scharrer as well, at least, cause they have good taste in tips), and loved doing the tipping with Chow folks, I have to announce this is the last one, which might be an occasion for tears (like when you watch the last episode of Garth Marenghi’s Dark Place and realize there aren’t any more episodes for reasons only the devil knows, and he ain’t telling). But, on the flip side, it’s also an occasion for joyous laughter, merriment, and drunken revelry, cause (as I mentioned below), this particular tip is the most capitally cowabungaing Chow tip laid out in lovely fashion on the liquory Spiked Punch yet: a tip for creating your own captivating limoncello. Ah, limoncello, the Italian sun god of liqueurs. I like it when I’ve eaten a lot, and when I haven’t eaten enough, when it’s mixed up in a Princess with soda and raspberries (in wife Natalie’s recipe, which you can find in Good Spirits if you need to) and when it’s served solo. I like it, period, people. And you will to, so watch this tip and get your own started today (really, do it. The store-bought stuff’s never as good. And the recipe’s from Luscious Liqueurs, if you need to read things in the old-timey traditional manner).

PS: Want to catch up on all Chow tips. Here they are: #1, #2, #3, #4.

In honor of the two sorcerous folks who were able to say where the name “Tareva” came from in the drink “Tareva’s Tipple,” I thought I’d point you in the direction of two more drinks that have at least somewhat mystical sounding names. But first, a huge shout out to Paul de Senquisse from the blog Tears of the Night (which is in French, as Paul’s from France–that’s right, Spiked Punch is international) and to PTOR from the awesome Sanctum Sanctorum Comix blog, which is not only a blog devoted to my (and your, if you’re not square) favorite Sorcerer Supreme, but also one that features Rom: Spaceknight and the Man-Thing. That is a line-up good enough to make Stan Lee cry triumphant tears of happiness true believers. I owe those two drinks, when we’re on the same multi-dimensional plane at some point. But until then, sip on these pleasant potions picked out of the drinker’s blogosphere.

• Vampiro: Buried a bit in a hangover post (which one might have on a weeked), this savory tequila-y evilicious drink of the underworld winds its way from the LUPEC Boston blog. Only fitting, really, since those ladies are known to weave wicked liquid spells of whooping wackiness with their wondrous cocktails. Whoopee! (I suggest you read this graphic novel while drinking for maximum mayham).

• Zamboanga Cocktail: If (and I’m not saying it isn’t, I’m just saying “if,”) there isn’t a wizard and/or warlock of some standing residing within a little known tropical country whose name is “Zamboanga” then there darn well should be. Have a few of these Cognac-and-maraschino-and-more cocktails, utilizing the useful recipe from one of the most prestidigitatously powerful cocktail blogs present, Paul Clarke’s Cocktail Chronicles, and you’ll start peering at said wizard whether he (or she) is real (or not).

I’m getting ready for a little Wine Cocktails evening at bar Poco here in Seattle on Thursday (more about that later–but if you must know, it’s Thursday at 7 pm and you should be there), but wanted to take a second to look back at when I was out of this fair sunny city (no laughing on the “sunny;” it’s balmy and blue-skied here) a week ago, visiting various watering holes in San Francisco. And yes, I forgot to call pal Andrew, and am sad about it, but I’ll power through just to point out the hits to you, in two part fashion. The first part is all about the cocktail’d night that wife Nat and I hung out with drinker par excellente’ Camper English (who in the below pic is savoring a broccolini stem–tre’ international).

If you don’t know the legend of Camper English, he writes the educational (and yet still entertaining—it’s edutainment. And yes, you can hit me in the head for saying that word) blog Alcademics, which is all about the cocktails, the bartending, and the booze. He also used to write Camper’s Hate Blog (which is genius, and worth going back through), and lots of other stuff (you can really learn more than you probably want at Cramper.com). He’s funny. And knows the San Francisco cocktail bars like few others. He suggested we meet at the new-ish Rickhouse, which luckily was near our hotel in the financial area, as we went there straight off the plane after checking in. The Rickhouse has a heavenly cocktail list with lots of information and drinks (sadly the actual menu was a bit too nice to steal, though we were tempted, being recidivist in our menu-stealing ways), a barrel stave ceiling (with barrel hoop lights), and a table right near the front window that we hooked. For the first round I had a Rye Maple Fizz, cause I was feeling rye-y and a drink with maple syrup hooks me like a trout on corn, Mr. English had a Laphroig Project (he’s a smoky essence enthusiast–check for this drink’s recipe here), and Nat had a Bella Fragollo, which was Italian-y goodness.

All the drinks we had there were expertly made right in front of me by the talented staff as I gazed at the immense wall of booze. Seriously (and easily believed, as they’re a sibling of the top notch liquor store Cask, so they have an “in” to booze-shelf-stocking), they have a 15-or-20-foot wall of bottles behind the bar. I went into a trance, and when I woke up I had a drink in my hand, a smile on my face, and a little slobber on the smile. Which sounds much grosser than it was.

After another round, we realized that if we didn’t eat we’d fall over (which would have bored Camper and not done much for our reps), so we went (on his suggestion–he’s a “vegetalian,” too, so finding an eating spot for all and sundry was a snap. Oh, a “vegetalian” as I found out is a cocktail-swilling vegetarian. Don’t smirk) to Beretta, in the Mission district. Baretta was, as the kids say, the stuff (well, except for our first bartender, who seemed to wearing my grandmother’s velour curtains. The second bartender was a dream, though). Waiting for our table I sipped (or gulped) an Angelina that demonstrated the bar’s grasp of balancing perfectly a few key ingredients (a sweet skill to have): Partida Anejo tequila, Carpano Antica, and Benedictine. Tasty indeed, with the tequila mingling with the other two’s herbal natures in an unexpectedly complenting manner. Nat had a Agricole Mule (rum, lime, ginger, mint, and pic’d below), and Camper had a Single Village Fix with Del Maguey Mezcal (that smoky thing again), lime, and pineapple gomme. All deliciousness, and matched in their heights by our eventual dinner, which consisted of a couple thinly Italian pizzas, some broccolini (re: Camper pic above), and some unbelievably good bruschetta topped with fava bean and pecorino puree. This thick-crisped-bread-topped-with-a-smooth-but-with-a-few-chunks spread lushed up the mouth. So good we ordered it twice. I kid you not. Let me repeat for effect: I kid you not. We had more good cocktails there and then, too, and lots of Camper talk, and finally tumbled into a cab in the best way: fat and drunkish. Thanks Camper, thanks S.F., and thank you, too (and watch for S.F. post number II soon).

Not too too long ago (I mean, I am a bit tardy on this, but not, say, a year behind, or even three months, and if we didn’t have the interweb and the telephone and whatnots, and communication came via Pony Express, I’d be totally on time), pal Becca from the tasty Key Notes with Becca was talking up her newly planted basil in a post, and thinking about all the dishes she might make with it, and generally giving a big “yay!” at the thought of fresh basil. A sentiment I second. But (and you knew that “but” was heading your way), none of her ideas had anything to do with a basil drink. Which is a shame, cause she’s a boozehound. No, no, I kid. She’s not hitting the bottle at the break of day, but neither is opposed to a nice cocktail and, knowing this, I said we should try to come up with basil drinks. Which leads to Tareva’s Tipple.

A friendly mystical kind of a mix (when you remember that basil has had a few theoretical–as far as I know–mystic connotations in the past), Tareva’s Tipple is good for a summer’s evening when you’re sitting on the deck reading a few issues of your favorite comic (and yeah, you have one, even if you don’t admit it) with the pups frolicking around you. It probably shouldn’t be too hot, cause there’s some muddling during the making and you don’t want to sweat. And you probably shouldn’t be planning on driving to the drive-in after having three of these, because there’s a double-delicious-whammy of sorts, due to the combo of gin and grappa (balanced out in the grand scheme of things by the basil and a bit of simple syrup). I used Aviation gin cause its floral notes play well with the basil, and Soft Tail Reserve grappa because it’s got that get-up-and-get-at-it underlying umph as well as some plays-well-with-others flavorings. The end result might not actually be a potion, but might leave you spellbound (if I can wax magically for a moment). Fresh basil’s the key, naturally, and best if just plucked before using.

6 or 7 fresh basil leaves, plus one for garnish

1/2 ounce simple syrup

Ice cubes

2 ounces gin

3/4 ounce grappa

1. Add all the basil leaves minus that last one and the simple syrup to a cocktail shaker. Using a muddler, muddle well.

2. Fill the shaker halfway full with ice cubes, and then add the gin and grappa. Shake well.

3. Strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with the remaining basil leaf. Enjoy.

A Note: Wife Nat thought I used a bit too much grappa, when I was using 1 full ounce, so I scaled it back. But you can scale it up if you’re feeling frisky.

PS: If anyone can tell me right now without using the Googler who “Tareva” was, in decent detail, then I will buy you a drink that can cost up to $15. So, a fancy-pants drink.

PPS: If anyone can tell me after using the Googler who “Tareva” was, I still might buy you a drink, but not if you’ve consulted this guy, who would obviously know. And yeah, that’s a serious hint.