Sometimes, an image just speaks for itself. Other times, there’s a rubber hand in the image, and it does the talking. On yet other times, there are two drinks that have colors you might expect to see if you hit your head on a rock—on Mars. On yet other times, you catalog bad ideas just by seeing them in print (Bacardi, a once brilliant brand, making premade cocktails that obviously must only be touched with fake hands). On yet other times, all of the above happens at once. It’s a wonder, to me, that the world didn’t implode. At least, as the ad says, “they taste like fresh tropical beauties should taste” on Mars. Well, that’s what they meant.

It’s still early for many on the West Coast (and, depending on when you read this, whichever coast you’re on, wherever you are, it may be early for you, too), especially those who are drinkers and/or criminals. I know a lot of the former, but really none (that I know about, unless you mean those that are criminally talented or something) of the latter, except those I meet in books like The Three-Way Split, by Gil Brewer, which is about a guy trying to live a simple life with some amazingly hot waitress he’s met and some treasure buried at sea he knows about, but due to his deadbeat-and-illegality-loving dad, he ends up roughed up by thugs, who also try to get the treasure. The story echoes your own life I’m sure. How does it turn around and reconnect with morning, and it being early on the West Coast? It’s the quote, below, which is about coffee and rum—a favorite breakfast for many.

He banged two pint mugs on the table, poured in steaming coffee until they were two-thirds full. Then he brought down one of those bottles of rum, black as tar, popped the cork, and filled the mugs to the brim.

He filled the plates and we ate. The rum was like a hot rasp running across the tongue.

 

– The Three-Way Split, Gil Brewer

Some days (January days, often, as it seems January is not only a cold month temperature-wise, but also a cold month life-wise, being the month of re-orgs, and silly resolutions, and uncomfortable whatnots. And if not all those actually happen, there tends to be the threat of all those, anyways) you need a bit of boozy medicine. If you’re in need, then you’ll especially like this quote from an old pulp called Murder in Havana. Which is about, funny enough, a bunch of murders in Havana, that our main character “Andy” tipsily stumbles in to (it’s not my pal Andy Sweet–who was one of the writers of Battleship, Battleship, Battleship–though it could have been, cause both are go-get-um guys). Anywho, Andy thinks that sometimes you just have to take your medicine (booze, that is). Here, see for yourself:

His bag was already on the customs bench and he opened it for a uniformed inspector who made but a cursory examination until he found the leather-covered flask. He unscrewed it, sniffed rum, grinned. ‘Medicine,’ he said. ‘Medicine.’ Andy grinned back at him and opened the briefcase.

–Murder in Havana, George Harmon Coxe

Why are modern booze ads so lame? There’s always some moodily lit scene with some medically enhanced bimbo and a guy wearing a billion dollar suit, or the same bulimic piece-of-work at the pool wearing so little fabric that Gypsy Rose Lee would blush (not that I mind, completely, but the IQ should at least be higher than the number of feet of water in the pool), or a talking horse or lizard, or some knuckleheads trying to come up with an asinine catch-phrase (“what it isssssss” or “hey yeahhhhhhh”) that trails off into a series of consonants boring enough to make you drink, sure, but only anything besides what’s being advertised. Instead of this jibber-jabber, let me present the below ad, which pal Philip (check out his baby, the cutest in the land, at the blog A Lifetime of Worry) sent me, after he found it on the Edwenden blog, which took it from the March 1953 issue of Men Only. The incredibly happy and devious cat is drinking the rum, after the high-kneed kid poured it in the bowl, as father looks on sadly. That, friends, is the definition of genius. The cat is drinking the rum–and look at his eyes! Genius. And I am going to buy a bottle of Lemon Hart rum right now. Which shows that genius ads can work.  

What the heck–it’s the 16^th of June already? And I’m only just having my first “buck” drink? And it’s not even an Orange Buck, but the sultry-cousin-who-sits-in-a-loose-dress-on-the-porch-driving-the-neighbors-mad-with-desire-while-at-the-same-time-barely-perspiring-and-looking-all-kinds-of-languid New Orleans Buck? And I’m using the Nicaraguan-made Flor de Cana Grand Reserve 7-year-old dark rum (which, I have to admit, so you don’t think I’m some kind of un-admitting flunky, was sent to me in the mail not too long ago from someone in New York–who I’m thanking right now, cause really, it’s tasty rum)? All of this probably leads many old Kansans (pals KT and Markie Mark, for two) to saying one thing: “that’s bucked up.”

But really, my old Orange Buck brethren, forgive me. The New Orleans Buck is darn refreshing, and is a very close relative of the O.B., and part of that legendary Gin Buck family that traces back, oh, to at least the 1920s. And if you’re new to this whole “buck” thing, let me promise you: you’ll be happy to dive in here, because this is a happening and cheery summer drink, one that fits backyard kick-backs remarkable well. You can slim the rum down a snitch if you must (I like the umph, but wife Nat thinks a little less booze bring the refreshment factor up a notch. Take your pick pals, and let me know what you think), to say, 2 ounces. But don’t you dare mess with the ratio of ginger ale to orange juice. That has to stay at 1:1. Or the universe will implode. Which is a messy situation anytime, but especially sticky in summer.

Ice cubes

3 ounces dark rum (or a little less, as mentioned)

2 ounces freshly squeezed orange juice

2 ounces chilled ginger ale

Lime wedge for garnish

Lime slice for garnish

1. Fill a highball glass three-quarters full with ice cubes. Add the rum.

2. Carefully add the orange juice and the ginger ale at the same time. Stir briefly.

3. Squeeze the lime wedge over the glass, then let it join the mix. Garnish with the lime slice.

A Variation: For an Orange Buck, substitute gin for rum, and for a Nordic Buck, sub in vodka. For a classic Gin Buck, make it with gin and no orange juice.

PS: Hopefully this isn’t too mercenary a mention, but this here drink is featured in a book called Dark Spirits, which doesn’t hit the shelves until fall of ’09, but which you could, if you wanted, pre-order right now, so as to insure you’re the first on the block with it in your pretty little hands.

1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the rum, lime juice, ginger liqueur, and simple syrup. Shake well.

2. Strain the mix into a flute. Top with the rosé sparkling wine. Garnish with that lime slice.

I just flew in from Italy (and boy are my arms tired–ba dump bump), and promise to post about Italian drinks and food and such soon when I get my sealegs back (not sure that last bit makes sense, but it is sure fun to say), but to tide you over and get this bloggy punch freshened again, I thought I’d show you my latest How2Heroes video (directed of course by the genius, Brad K, from Artificial Khaos). It demonstrates how to make the Bishop, which is featured in Wine Cocktails, a drink containing red wine, rum, lemon, and a kiss of sweetness. It’s a delicious refresher of a mix I must say, so hit that play button and then get shaking.

It’s a dog-gone dreary first day of spring here, with clouds, wind, and intermittently nasty and extra-nasty rain, and I’ve had a cold/flu/allergy/asstastic thing all week (my sinuses hate me, I swear), and am generally in a woe-is-me state of mind (cause, well, I have to work, when I should be under the covers drinking a hot drink and watching the Thin Man or some such). With that, I’m turning to two quotes from Wilkie Collins short stories, quotes about warming up with a drink and fire, a situation I’d much like to be within. Being that Mr. Collins (old schools Dickens era writer and partier) is most remembered for rolling out some formative ancestors to our current detective yarns and mysteries, and has a habit of putting his characters in unfriendly situations, maybe I shouldn’t wish to be one of his characters–but dang, that “gin and water hot” sounds dreamy right now.

He said, ‘All right?’ and walked back to the inn. In the hall he ordered hot rum and water, cigars, slippers, and a fire to be lit in his room

After settling these little matters, having half-an-hour to spare, I turned to and did myself a bloater at the office-fire and had a drop of gin and water hot and felt comparatively happy.

–Wilkie Collins, The Yellow Mask and Other Stories

PS: Just realized “The Yellow Mask” would be a pretty great name for a drink. It’d need to be a bit creepy though (the story is). But hey, if anyone reading this wants to take a shot at a drink that fits the name, go to—just let me know how it turns out.

Okay, I can admit it, I’m not the world’s most in-depth sports fan. I don’t have 10 fantasy leagues (or even one), and mostly I like Super Bowl parties because I see it as a day when I can eat as much cheese dip and snacks as I want to and not have anyone say “boo” about it. But darnit, even if you’re not an over-the-top sports fan, you should still be able to consume an above-average punch on the day of the big game. On any day, for that matter. And Football Punch is more than above average (it’s way, way, above, I tell ya), with a mingling of rum, sweet vermouth, and apples with a touch of orange and lemon. Just watch the effect it has on pals Jamie, Rob, Brett, Andy, and Bob in the below instructional video. And be sure to check out my socks. And then thank director and co-writer Dr. Gonzo for me by giving him another glass of punch.

 Though I usually stick to the boozing here on Spiked Punch, I also wanted to put up this new vid for Monterey Cremini Quesadillas (from the Party Snacks), cause I sure don’t want you to starve while sloshing back all the Football Punch. These tasty tidbits will make you hum. Or cheer. Or hum cheerfully. Or, at least, be amazed at how I can speed up and slow down time. Really.

People always feel bad about riding the pine (meaning, sitting on the bench during a sporting event), but golly, someone has to be there to support the team with yelling and clapping and general enthusiastic behavior right? Without that, how could those stars actually playing get the energy to keep at it? Because, everyone needs support now and then, and, for that matter, everyone needs to sit and take a load off now and then. Heck, even Captain Marvel (the red-costumed one) needed to be Billy Batson on occasion. And when you’re hanging out on the bench in support style, or hanging out to catch your breath for a bit, you should have a drink that’s named for this very scene. Or, named because I had some lovely fresh pineapple that I thought to use in a drink, and this name made sense in that situation cause of the “pine.” One of those two reasons.

The first sounds better, doesn’t it? Like I wasn’t just whipping together a drink, but really thinking deeply about what it means to be a supporter of star players, instead of actually a star, combined with what it means to take a break from stardom, and trying to distill those notions into an ideal liquid form. Now that, friends, is deep (a deep load of crap some might say, but those “some” are probably creepy teetotalers).  And, sort-of a lie, because there wasn’t “one” ideal liquid form but two, as I made the drink two ways. The first was muddling up some fresh pineapple, then adding a bit of simple syrup, a touch of pineapple juice for juiciness, and some dark rum (I used Mount Gay Eclipse, cause I’m pretty fond of its mixability, though it’s not super dark–white rum could have been used, too, but the dark gave it a touch more flavor) and shaking it up. The second was adding all of the same, plus some ice, to a blender and blending it up. Wife Nat had an urge for a blended drink (even though it’s freakily freezing out here) and far be it from me to talk her out of it. Drinkers deserve what they want. Both versions, I have to say, came out darn delicious, and tropical, and warming all at once. Which is fitting for the “Riding the Pine” moniker (well, you’re probably dreaming of the tropics when there, and your hindquarters are warm, and the drink is delicious). This drink, probably, could have been called a “Pineapple Daiquiri” or some such. But that’d be awfully boring.

Riding the Pine #1

1/4 cup fresh pineapple, plus one or two cubes for garnish

Ice cubes

1/2 ounce simple syrup

1/4 fresh pineapple juice

2 ounces dark rum

1. Put the pineapple in a cocktail shaker. Using your favorite muddler, muddle well.

2. Fill the shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add everything else. Shake really well, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a pineapple cube or two.

Riding the Pine #2

1/4 cup fresh pineapple, plus one or two cubes for garnish

Ice cubes

1/2 ounce simple syrup

1/2 fresh pineapple juice

2 ounces dark rum

1. Put all the ingredients in a blender. Blend well.

2. Pour the Pine into a chilled glass of your choice, or a cocktail glass, or a basketball cut in half (but only if it’s been well-cleaned). Garnish with a pineapple cube or two.