For those regular readers of Spiked Punch (a list which includes my dogs Sookie and Rory, the dread Dormammu, and you), you know that I’ve taught a class at the Pantry at Delancey, which probably might lead you to believe that I’d be fan of Delancey, the pizza parlor. And you’d be right. To jump back, however (jump back!) in case you’re not from Seattle, Delancey is the, in my mind, finest pizza place in Seattle, and run by some fine folks, and the Pantry is a dreamy class and communal dinner spot behind it.
But what does this have to do with drinks? Well, it involves another Seattle spot, the newish brewery Hilliards. Hilliards is a beer-lover’s bubbly utopia in two ways: first, they make great-tasting beer (especially the Saison, which is smooth but with a bit of layered flavors and hints of spice and orange), and second, they make beer in really sweet-looking cans. Some days, I just want a can of beer in my hand. It’s less dangerous than a bottle, and a can reminds me a whole heaping lot of the Midwest where I sprouted.
And now, I’m gonna blow your mind: they serve Hillards at Delancey. Amazing. The universe is a wonderful place sometimes (and sometimes awfully cranky), and one of those times is when you can have a local beer in a can and a pizza and have them both be well-crafted marvels of taste without an ounce of snoot. I love it. And when you’re in Seattle, you should love it, and them, too.
Sometimes, you have a little secret that you like to hold close like a puppy (one I have is that I actually don’t drink. Nah, I’m kidding. How does the fact that I’m a Martin Lawrence devotee work?). Sometimes, you have a larger secret that’s oodles of fun that you can’t tell but that you hold close to youself to like a favorite key (naturally I have these, but I surely can’t tell you about them). And then, sometimes you’re associated with a great big secret, like this recipe, or like when you get abducted by aliens and discover leap year is an alien plot, or when you wear a cape and fight crime at night using mystical powers. Of course, now this delicious recipe isn’t a secret at all, since I’m telling you it to you. But it’s still great. And we’re still sharing it. So, that’s something almost as good, right?
Cracked ice
2 ounces gin
1 ounce Lillet Blanc
Dash of Angostura bitters
Orange twist, for garnish
Orange slice, for garnish (optional, used instead of above twist)
1. Fill a mixing glass or cocktail shaker with cracked ice. Add the gin, Lillet, and bitters. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Twist the twist over the glass and then drop it in. Shhhhh.
PS: Though this Great Secret is featured in Ginger Bliss and the Violet Fizz (a beautiful book you should really have), I found it in Patrick Gavin Duffy’s The Official Mixer’s Manual (Alta, 1934).
It’s Friday! Which means you should be thinking kick-up-my-heels and not clean-up-my-kitchen. But, but, but, with work schedules that are so packed, and weekdays that don’t seem to have a stitch of free time, often the weekends end up being a time to only shepherd the house back from chaos and into shape for the next week. Well, here’s an idea–track down a copy of Phyllis Diller’s Housekeeping Hintsand get some advice on how to keep a house clean with minimal effort. Or, no effort at all. Cause Madam Diller is much more about the yuks than the sweeps, being a famous comedian from back a-ways. So, the book is full of suggestions like, “leave your sink full of dirty dishes. It’s a good way to cover up the dirty sink.” Which are perfect for Friday, when you should be thinking young, wild, and free and not detergent, elbow grease, and bleach. She also talks a lot about her penny-grasping husband Fang, which leads to the below line, which I love for some odd reason, and which ties the book in to the booze blog.
When we have guests, he puts a cherry in a glass of beer and calls it a Manhattan.
According to the esteemed booze-ologist Dr. Cocktail (also known as Ted Haigh), this drink was named for a gold medal winning Olympic fencer. Which means you should only drink it when making a fence. Ba-dump-bump. No, really, what you shouldn’t do is drink it and use either real swords (plastic ones are okay) or hammers. What you should do is serve this at any commemorative celebration, as it’s a classy number, and one that has a host of mingling flavors–which is appropriate for a celebration, because who wants to have a boring celebration? It’s also featured in Ginger Bliss and the Violet Fizz, which is (if I can say with without sounding pompous) a celebration itself.
Cracked ice
1 ounce gin
1/2 ounce Cointreau
1/2 ounce Campari
1/2 ounce dry vermouth
Orange twist, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the gin, Cointreau, Campari, and dry vermouth. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the orange twist.
I suppose I should in the below attribution attribute this quote to Patrick Dennis, as he wrote the book House Party under the nom de plume Virginia Rowans. And Dennis was an interesting chap, the author of the fabulously successful novel (and then film) Auntie Mame and the only author to have three books on the New York Times bestseller list at once. And then his books stopped selling and he ended up being a butler (partially by choice, as I guess he liked to buttle) for Ray Kroc, the founder of McDonalds. Really–as I said, interesting chap. And as his real name was actually Edward Everett Tanner III and as he decided to write the effervescently fun House Party as Mrs. Rowans, I’m sticking with her as the attributed author. He’d probably appreciate it.
Darling, would you run out and buy a bottle of Champagne? I can’t entertain as shabbily as this and I’ve spent everything I have buying vulgar things like Scotch and gin. I daren’t even cash another check.
Hey ho daddy-o, you won’t believe it but we’ve made the mighty and masterful Cocktail to Cocktail Hour Season Two even more magnificent and helpful for the masses. How, you say, is this impossibility possible? By adding a new segment in the show called “Everyday Drinking,” a segment designed to help solve the problems of everyday drinkers, drinkers that are just like you and me (except without my awesome suit and trophy wife). Learn more in the most recent episode of the roaring Cocktail to Cocktail Hour.
As I detailed a few ticks of the Spiked Punch blog ago (and in the swell Seattle Magazine), Seattle and WA are in the midst of a distillery boom of sorts, and I couldn’t be happier. All this fantastic local booze to sip and shake and sip some more? Great with me. One of the newer distilleries that I was a little slow to track down is the Sidetrack distillery, in Kent, WA, outside of the city of Seattle (I mention this mostly to give myself an excuse for the tardy tasting, not out of any geographical bias). Sidetrack is situated right on the Lazy River Farm and makes an assortment of liqueurs and fruit brandies with fruit grown on the farm–now that’s using local ingredients. This focus on fresh and homegrown fruit lends the liqueurs (full disclosure: I haven’t had the brandies, but am excited to try them. Second disclosure: I was given samples of the liqueurs) a bright, clear fruit taste backed by a smooth slight sweetness. There are four varieties: blackberry, raspberry, blueberry, and strawberry. I went with the strawberry here in the Straw Track cocktail, because it seemed to yell “summer” the most to me, and as it’s mid-February I needed a jolly jolt of summer. I think, though, that this drink is balanced enough, and bubbly enough, to have year round.
Cracked ice
1-1/2 ounces gin (I would stick with the WA theme and use Voyager if you can get it)
1/2 ounce Sidetrack Strawberry liqueur
Chilled brut Champagne or sparkling wine
Lemon slice, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the gin and liqueur. Stir well.
2. Strain into a flute or other charming glass. Top with chilled bubbly and garnish with that lemon slice.
I’ve talked a bit about English detective-y writer Peter Lovesey in a past Cocktail Talk post, so I’ll gloss over the backstory mostly here (if you need more, head back in time), and just remind you, dear reader, that Mr. Lovesey is best known for two characters, heavyweight-but-huggable modern police detective Peter Diamond and under-appreciated Victorian police detective Sergant Cribb. The book I’m quoting today, Mad Hatter’s Holiday, features the latter and both has a good crime story and impeccable period details. A worthy read. And the below is a worthy quote, especially because I understand how sometimes a night “of gin and song” isn’t planned and then does, indubitably, take its toll.
Saturday night at the Canterbury was about to take its toll. He had not planned his night of gin and song. A visit to the Canterbury was not indelibly inspired in his social diary, like evenings at the dome and the Theatre Royal.
For those regular readers of Spiked Punch (a list which includes my dogs Sookie and Rory, the dread Dormammu, and you), you know that I’ve taught a class at the Pantry at Delancey, which probably might lead you to believe that I’d be fan of Delancey, the pizza parlor. And you’d be right. To jump back, however (jump back!) in case you’re not from Seattle, Delancey is the, in my mind, finest pizza place in Seattle, and run by some fine folks, and the Pantry is a dreamy class and communal dinner spot behind it.
