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.
For my fourth (out of five, you lucky people) tip filmed with the fine culinary and drinkingary folks at Chow, I delve into the deep nature of ingredient order. In drinks (well, what did you think?). Also, I make a Bronx (which you’ll love–you love a Bronx right? Named after the zoo? You should be having one now. Or after you watch the video), and my cheeks shake a little while I’m shaking the drink, which is a nice human touch. Because I’m not a robot people. Oh, if you haven’t watched the other Chow tips yet, get to it. Here they are: #1, #2, #3. And one more to come (yay!), and it’s the most tantalizingly terrific tip to make it to Spiked Punch yet.
A quick break from the Chow tips (check ‘em out below, if’n you haven’t seen them), but only enough so I can slip in a quick quote from a book by A.A. Fair, called Some Women Won’t Wait (amen), with only a quick introductory graph, which I am writing quickly (but lovingly), so I can skedaddle out to the Friends of the Seattle Library Booksale (the most wondrous of events). So, quick (he says): A.A. Fair is, actually, Erle Stanley Gardner, who wrote 3 billion Perry Mason mysteries, and who I don’t tend to like (though, oddly, quickly, I love the Perry Mason TV series), but this book I found fun, probably because there’s lots of drinking, and a mysterious woman with eyes the size of orange slices drinking on the cover. I’m not saying I get easily swayed, but . . .. Anyway, check this out, go buy some books, and then make a big boozy punch and slide into the weekend.
The Royal Hawaiian Hotel was saturated with an atmosphere of deep, quiet luxury. The royal palms furnished dappled shade; the air was a combination of ocean tang and the scent of flowers.
I wandered through the lobby and a couple of shops before I found Bertha Cool seated at a table out on a lanai overlooking the ocean.
There was a planter’s punch in front of her, and Bertha was just a little flushed, her eyes just a little watery, her lips pressed in a tight line.
I took a good look and decided that Bertha was just a little bit high and very, very mad.
Okay, all right, calm down–I promise at least one non-Chow tip post after this one, before another Chow tip post (though Schticker girl does seem to dig them, and that’s good enough for me to post more). But dang it, they’re so well done (bless the Chow people, goodly Chow people) I feel like shouting them out on the streetcorner. Since I can’t get away from my desk due to the shackle, and think that streetcorner shouters need serious beards and louder voices, I’m going to post them here instead. This post presents that age old debate: nature vs nurture. No, no, that’d be dullsville baby. It’s an even more momentous showdown: Shaking vs Stirring. Who wins and who whines? Well, you’ll have to watch it to see (but to give it away, the winner is you, and the whiner is the person not having a drink tonight).
Following up on my Chow tip-a-thon started below, here’s a second tip to take you into your weekend (the urge to write “don’t take any wooden nickels” is almost unbearable. Like being chased by a big cliché bear through a forest of old carneys. Or something like that), a tip where I talk about ice, which is probably important for every single weekend. But really, the main reason to watch this clip (outside of the pure beauty of it, thanks for which goes to the Chow folks themselves, cause they are the awesomeness) is for the close up of my Pug muddle smacking that ice around. It’s made of Mexican rosewood (also called bocote) and is the best muddler in the world. Gawd, it’s so lovely I sometimes sleep with it under my pillow so I have good muddling dreams. If you don’t have a Pug muddler, then I suggest you get one, though it won’t be as cool as mine, it may be the second best muddle in the world. Just email the friendly Chris Gallagher, who makes them all by hand, at jcgallagher08 at hotmail dot com. Now, as Iceman would say, “Ice On!” (Okay, he probably never said that. But should have).
Down the blog calendar a bit, I talked about going to sweet ol’ San Francisco and shooting some drinking and drink-making tips with the rockingily rocking folks at Chow.com, specifically pal Meredith and cool camera jockey Blake Smith. They were so pro (and so good at things like editing and putting lots of Vaseline on the lens) that they made me look pretty shiny, at least in this first tip that I’ve seen. It’s called “What’s the Right Way to Shake a Cocktail,” and it’s all my opinion, so if you agree, that’s okay (as long as your way still delivers me a chilly mix with a smile). But how will you know if you don’t watch it? So, you’d better watch it. And make upload it to your facebooker friends or whatever it is you kids do. Oh, and check out my rad bracelet Sookie gave me for my birthday a while back. I am hard core.
PS: I think there are 5? 6? tips total (hey, they were drink tips, and I got a little hazy near the end–who knows what they filmed me doing), so come back to see more.
Hah, today’s weather report underlines a point I sometimes forget: Mother Nature is the boss. Last week I got all pining for the end of summer (with my reverie to the Champagne of Beers) and talking about how last Friday was the last day of summer, and how we should enjoy it, and sing Hüsker Dü’s Celebrated Summer (gawd, how I loved singing that at the end of every summer in my teenage years. Here’s a freakin’ quick toast to Grant, Bob, and Greg), etc, etc, and now this Friday is even nicer, and more summer-y (at least here in W-A). Well, she showed me. To get over this in-your-face from Mother Nature, I’m going to have to drink a tall Mike Collins. A lesser consumed cousin of the Tom Collins, the Mike Collins is ideal for a day like today, with one foot in summer and at least three toes in fall, because it’s refreshing but still has that underlying umph from a delish dollop of the Irish. Why not pour yourself one, and see if I know what I’m talking about? If you want to have a little guitar ice cube like in the fantabulousy photo, a photo by the best-cocktail-photographer-in-the-world Melissa Punch, than I say: rock out! Oh, both the photo and this recipe are from the almost available Dark Spirits by the way (more on that soon–consider this a teaser.)
Mike Collins
Ice cubes
2 ounces Irish whiskey
1/2 ounce freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 ounce simple syrup
Chilled club soda
Lemon slice for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the whiskey, juice, and simple syrup. Shake well, in celebration of all Mikes.
2. Fill a Collins glass three-quarters full with ice cubes. Strain the mix over the ice. Fill almost to the top with chilly club soda. Garnish with the lemon slice (stirring briefly if you want Mike mixed more).
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.
