As the political, um, talk is reaching its election-year-in-January proportions (talk which I’m sure by the actual election will reach astronomical asinine-ness), I thought I’d throw in a Cocktail Talk quote from Graham Greene. It’s not, however, specifically about politics, but it seems relevant. It’s not, either, from one of my favorite books by Mr. Greene (who is of course super-fan-tabulous), but from a perhaps lesser novel called Travels with My Aunt. The fact that it’s one of his books makes it better than most books on the top seller list, however. But, to get back to politics. And booze. The reason this quote seems so perfect for an election year goes back to a thought I once had (and if anyone says “the one thought you ever had,” well, good point), that if we could see those fight’n politicians after a few glasses of bubbly we could probably find out more about them then listening to any ol’ debate. Which leads to this quote, which I might use as a slogan if I ever run for office:
Champagne, if you are seeking the truth, is better than a lie detector.
I probably shouldn’t start off by lying, so I’m going to tell the truth (which happens at least 69.7% of the time): even if the book I’m quoting wasn’t written by Day Keene, I probably would have picked it up if I saw it in the pocket book section of the mystery section of a bookstore, cause it’s called Naked Fury. That’s tough stuff. But since it was by Day Keene, and since I’ll purchase anything by him, well, the choice was easy. Keene’s oneof the classic (in my mind) hardboiled pulpy writers, who turned out books that slapped the pavement as hard as it needed to be slapped, usually outside of a bar that we modern folks can only dream about in our lurid dreams. Naked Fury is no exception, as it follows around a big-in-size-if-not-in-smarts party/neighborhood boss who is being set up and such around his boozing. Good stuff, I think. And the fact that I know pretty well how he feels in the below quote (even though I might sub in something for the lobster) makes me like him even more.
Morning was hot and slightly sour in Big Dan Malloy’s mouth. He lay on his back for long minutes listening to the intimate feminine splashing in the bathroom, wondering why he ever combined Champagne and Lobster Thermidor.
Alibi Baby, by Stewart Sterling (who I’ve never read before, as far as I know. Which may not be too far, as the old pulp writers played pretty fast and loose with nom de plumes and such) falls into the perhaps sparsely populated genre of hotel detective story. It has nothing to do with the 1945 adoption drama movie (another sparsely populated genre). Our hero here is operating in a snazzy New York hotel, where a number of murders occur around an oil scheme. Or something like that. His name is Gil Vine (great name, really), and he’s hardboiled enough to say things such as, “Don’t play me for a sap!” without batting an eye. The murders begin after a night of drinking, which I like, though the drugged drinks don’t do much for me (they mess with the taste, if nothing else). But the party sounds like it was loads of fun (before the drugging, that is). Just read over the list of drinks:
He began to dress, reluctantly. “If there was any dope in Monsieur’s wine, I had nothing to do with it. He was mixing cocktails and Champagne, vodka and dessert wine; it was enough to put anyone under the table.”
“The Tokay was drugged,” I said. “Heinz had some of it; it put him out, too. You were paid to load the wine. The man who paid you hoped you’d be the one to help Lejourd up to his room after he passed out.”
In the post below, I mention my theory on the Bronte sisters as wild wing-ding women, and while some might disagree, those disagreers are probably also the people who no one invites to parties, and who sit at home chewing their cud and cursing their mealy-minded lonesome parched existences. The below quote, also from Charlotte’s underappreciated Shirley, is one of my favorite short, one line quotes that utilize drinks in a way of describing a facet of existence. It’s almost a maxim, in a way, to live by—or at least can be applied to life. If you don’t agree, well, it’s probably because you’re boring. But if you want to argue, let me call up those bubbly Bronte sisters–do you really want to argue with the ghosts of three famous English writers? I mean, who’s more dangerous than that?
Adventure is to stagnation as Champagne is to flat porter.
Everyone is asking it: was Champagne created by the devil (providing your belief system has a devil in it–if not, just fake it for now) to entrap people into getting loopy and lustful as the old year ends? I mean, we do consume a lot of Champagne and bubbly (and Champagne and bubbly cocktails, one hopes, to get away from the mundane-ity) this time of year, and it is sort-a like the death of the year, and the devil is on people’s minds when they think of death. And drunken revelry has mistakenly been touted as evil before (when, in actuality, it is really full of goodness a full 87.463% of the time). What do I think about the whole “Champagne was created by the devil” rigmarole that’s being tossed around so much on TV news shows and talk radio? Well, let’s see what the ads say, because advertising is the most trustworthy business there is (after used-car selling, prostitution, and the NBA). First, check out this ad, from way back in 1908 (I think):
You see the devil is, actually, involved, using the bubbly to entice a lovely young maiden and a dancing, prancing (romancing), satyr. Or is it a faun? Or just a drunk kid? I get those confused. Wait, what’s that you say? The woman is pouring the bubbly for the devilish character? That makes it less probable that he created it. But wait, though, wait (again), what about this ad from a little later in history:
Here, mean ol’ scratch is pouring it out with an evil grin. No doubt about it. Well, maybe a little doubt. I mean, he is pouring it a long way–why would he want to potentially spill what he created? It almost seems like he’s showing off his bar skills, maybe looking for a new gig behind the stick, and not trying to drunky up the masses at all. Maybe, just maybe, the devil didn’t create Champagne in the least bit (and maybe, just maybe, I’m just devil’d up from reading too many pre-code devilish horror comics during The Horrors of It All’s Devilcember). Wait, though, wait (again): this last ad below definitely points to the possibilities of the devil at least being associated with Champagne. Because if this isn’t a minion of the devil pushing the Champagne in the ad, I don’t know my religious cosmology:
Okay, wait, though, wait (one last time): I think I get it, finally. The devil is only responsible for Champagne or bubbly in a can. I think I can believe that. Now, go stock up for New Year’s Eve, devilish ones, and don’t forget to save a glass of bubbliciousness for me (as long as it’s poured from a bottle).
It’s rare that I like a movie or T.V. series or podcast or alien mind scan more than the book it’s based on (cause books are better. So there). But, in the case of The Irish R.M., I think the BBC series is, in fact, better than the collection of vignettes by E. OE Somerville and Martin Ross. Though the collection is nice enough, and gives us the below quote, and introduces us to memorable drunk Slipper (who is almost always “slightly advanced in liquor”), as well as the main character (a somewhat stuffy-but-sweet English fella who goes to rural Ireland to be a registered magistrate, and then gets taken in and involved in all kinds of hijinks with the crafty locals—in a way, it’s like the big city folks from Salina, KS, who would come visit us country folks in Lindsborg, KS, when I was growing up. We’d always be drunk and scheming and riding after foxes while they laughed bemusedly) and various others, it doesn’t have the same jolly resonance as the series starring jolly Englishman Peter Bowles. I strongly suggest it if you want to learn about shebeens (and really, who doesn’t?), and I also strongly suggest the following quote:
It was a day when frost and sunshine combined went to one’s head like iced Champagne; the distant sea looked like the Mediterranean, and for four sunny hours the Knox relatives and I followed nine couple of hounds in a tranquil footpace along the hills, our progress mildly enlivened by one or two scrambles in the shape of jumps.
–The Irish R.M., E. OE Somerville and Martin Ross
PS: Also worthy, this descriptive phrase: “a woman who had th’ appairance of having knocked at a back door.”
Wait, hold up, before introducing this quote, let me say happy freaking New Year booze-y pals. Here’s to a fantastically tipsy 2009. And, while it’s not 01/01/01/09 (the first second of the first day and all), it’s still the year’s start, and this quote is a sillily lovely way to start said year. It’s another bubbling gem from The Complete Imbiber #1, from an essay by Paul Holt (who, I feel bad to admit, I don’t know much about–any help?) called “The Wine and the Waistcoat.” In it, he talks about drinking and dressing, but it’s a fairly long quote, so I’m just gonna back out of its way:
“In this connection I feel I must deal with the problem of pink champagne. It is well known that many a romance has been wrecked for the lack of this romantic tipple.
I would say, here, that if it must be drunk in such a good cause, the costume is absolutely de rigueur. A sincere dressing-gown with red morocco slippers is as important as the guardsman’s bowler and brolly. (This last attire goes excellently with a large whiskey in the morning, particularly if you can manage to hide the brief-case that so cruelly accompanies it these days.) . . .
Perhaps, after all, it is best to stick to Pernod, if the sartorial consequences of imbibing interest you as much as they do me. This if only for the reason that however you start off drinking the stuff, you’re bound to end up more or less naked.”
Take your New Year’s Eve party up a notch (if that’s possible–knowing the readers and pals I have, your New Year’s Eve parties are already notched up so high the belt might break. But even so, you still might like a new New Year’s bubbly beauty) with the Valencia, a drink I think sounds like it refers to an old, but somewhat shadily classy, apartment house, probably a brick brownstone, where the serious parties have happened, are happening, and will continue to happen as long as we’re lucky to walk and drink on this earth. Valencia the drink contains a captivating combination of apricot brandy, orange juice, orange bitters, and Champagne or sparkling wine (the latter being why it’s so fitting for the last day in December). In the below video, which is posted via the fine folks at How2Heroes (a site you should check out if you like drinking and cooking videos) you can see me making one of these sparklers.
If that’s not enough, and if you really want to start your New Year right (or oddly), check out this video of me (also from How2Heroes) talking about how I got into cocktail love and booze-writing and all that liquor madness. I’m also wearing a pink tie and straw hat and name dropping the Essential Dr. Strange Volume I.
And if that’s not enough, know that I’m wishing you, from a distance, if not in person (though I wish I was), the happiest and most wonderfulest 2009 imaginable. And then some. Cheers!
As the political, um, talk is reaching its election-year-in-January proportions (talk which I’m sure by the actual election will reach astronomical asinine-ness), I thought I’d throw in a Cocktail Talk quote from Graham Greene. It’s not, however, specifically about politics, but it seems relevant. It’s not, either, from one of my favorite books by Mr. Greene (who is of course super-fan-tabulous), but from a perhaps lesser novel called Travels with My Aunt. The fact that it’s one of his books makes it better than most books on the top seller list, however. But, to get back to politics. And booze. The reason this quote seems so perfect for an election year goes back to a thought I once had (and if anyone says “the one thought you ever had,” well, good point), that if we could see those fight’n politicians after a few glasses of bubbly we could probably find out more about them then listening to any ol’ debate. Which leads to this quote, which I might use as a slogan if I ever run for office:
