January 14, 2009
I wish I had a little sound file of me singing “baby it’s cold outside,” because I can’t think it without singing it, and since you’re here now, too, reading this, you should be able to hear what I hear–right? Or is that too meta-something-or-other? And speaking of somethings-or-others, I just learned when looking up “baby it’s cold outside” that in the classic version of the song, “the female voice in the song is called ‘The Mouse’ and the male ‘The Wolf.’” There’s something probably chauvinistic in that, but I like it anyway. Now, where was I? Oh yes, Ed Skoog. He came up with the following recipe for the Drowsy Chaperone, cause he’s so cuddly that when the lights are dim and he’s serving up a warm-but-brandy’d drink in front of the fire he likes the guardian keeping him and his lady love from getting to, shall we say, “amorous town,” he likes that guardian to dodder off into sleepy land. It has nothing to do with the musical comedy of the same name. But all to do with sidling up to that special someone with a toasty liquid treat in a snifter when the wind’s whipping along outside your door.
1 buttermint
1 1/2 ounces brandy
1/2 ounce crème de peche
3/4 ounce Cointreau
1. Add the buttermint to a snifter, and then top it with the brandy and crème de peche.
2. Put the Cointreau in a mug and heat it in the microwave for about 15 seconds. It should be hot but not boiling.
3. Carefully pour the Cointreau into the glass–isn’t it pretty and steamy and warming and lovely?
Tags: Brandy, buttermint, cocktail recipe, Cointreau, crème de peche, Drowsy Chaperone, Ed Skoog, hot drink, What I'm Drinking
Posted in: Brandy, Ed Skoog, Liqueurs, Recipes, What I'm Drinking
December 16, 2008
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.
November 26, 2008
It’s almost become a cliché, how much I like the booze-fueled hot apple cider within the colder months (in that it’s utterly expected that when one walks into my house they’ll smell the cinnamon, apple, and rum on the air during holiday-season gatherings). But you know what? I think being a cliché is just fine (in this one instance that is. Don’t be calling me cliché any other time. Unless my love of genius British television character Dean Learner becomes a cliché. Which would be awesome, cause the world would be a better place if everyone, when asked what they loved, said “Dean Learner.” But I digress), when the word revolves around this cider recipe, which is from the GS. It’ll warm you and your guests (and works darn well as a pre-Thanksgiving-meal sipper, too. Especially in chilly KS, Jen, if you were wondering).
4 quarts fresh apple cider
20 ounces cinnamon schnapps
16 ounces white rum
1 teaspoon whole cloves
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
10 cinnamon sticks
10 apple slice for garnish
1. Add the cider to a large nonreactive saucepan. Heat over medium heat for 5 to 10 minutes
2. Add the cinnamon schnapps, rum, cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon sticks. Simmer for 15 minutes, but don’t let the mixture boil.
3. Once thoroughly warm, ladle the mixture into heatproof mugs, making sure that each mug gets a cinnamon stick. Garnish each with an apple slice.
A Note: Here are three things to remember: 1. Be careful with the cloves when scaling (meaning, too many cloves can take over the flavor). 2. Use apple cider (which is good and cloudy) not apple juice. 3. Boiling boils off some of the alcohol. If getting mistakenly to a boil, or leaving the cider on the stove for an extended period, add more rum as needed.
A Second Note: This may be too much cinnamon for some. I see no problem, for balance, in upping the rum.
November 18, 2008
All right, all right, I know it may seem strange (not groovy and mystical like Dr. Strange either, but just downright odd) to be sipping a bubbly-cooling-kind-of-a-drink in Seattle’s damp and dreary mid-to-late November, but I’ve been working hard stocking the shelves (virtual shelves surely, but shelves) and shilling the books, not to mention raking the inordinate amount of leaves in my backyard (and, you know what, if Mr. Cherry Tree is reading this, please stop dropping basketfuls of your leaves on the ground the minute I get finished raking said ground. Wait a couple days at least. Give me that, for gosh sakes.), or writing this sentence which will never stop. Anyway, I was feeling the need for a refresher last night, but one that still had an underlying . . . strength of character. I didn’t want to go teeth-rotting sweetness, but did want a hint of sunshine. And, I wanted to be able to name drop a second super hero in one post (Hourman, that is). All of which led me to the Hour Glass:
Ice cubes
1 ounce Cognac
3/4 ounce Cointreau
1/2 ounce absinthe
Chilled club soda
Lemon twist, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the Cognac, Cointreau, and absinthe. Stir well.
2. Fill a highball glass three-quarters full with ice cubes. Strain the mixture over the ice, and then fill the glass with club soda (unless it’s a large-ish highball, then just go up three-quarters of the way).
3. Squeeze the lemon twist over the glass and drop it in.
September 17, 2008
A drink I picked up from the classic Savoy Cocktail Book, the Oriental has become a reliable mid-week (or weekend) hit for me, making me giddy every time I take that first sip, with its balanced nature and life-saving qualities. Oh, if you don’t know, as the Savoy tells it, “In August, 1924, an American engineer nearly died of fever in the Philippines and only the extraordinary devotion of Doctor B. saved his life. As an act of gratitude, the engineer gave Doctor B. the recipe of this cocktail (the Oriental).” Hence the life-saving nature of this drink. And, isn’t it always good when a drink comes with a built-in story, to start off those bar conversations that are so memorable (if a bit hazy in hindsight here and there). I love it. If you ever want to impress that certain someone, or just goof it with pals while soaking in the pleasures of being off work for a while, then the Oriental is a good drink to order up or make up and swill up.
It doesn’t hurt if you can embellish the story a bit as well. Lead up to the fever by giving the engineer a little more history (maybe he’s your uncle? maybe he was building a bridge to save a village from extinction? maybe he wears a jaunty hat?), and bring in the jungles of the Philippines, and then the engineer slowly succumbing to the fever, with the mosquitoes buzzing around his head like little planes around King Kong, and the lights getting dimmer, and dimmer, and dimmer, the darkness creeping and the fever rising and our brave engineer (who looks a bit like George Clooney) descending into his fate . . . and then the tent flaps rise and the mysterious Doctor B walks in, surrounded by sunlight. Cut to the next scene where the engineer is making the Doctor the Oriental for the first time, and then sliding the recipe across the table as the Doctor’s eye’s gleam with thankfulness (he’s on his third Oriental by now, and the gleam is partially backed by that third round). It’s enough to make you tear up a bit. Or is that tear just because you’ve been waiting to get the recipe for so long? The following is how I make them. I tried experimenting with different orange liqueurs and such, but kept coming back to that basic curaçao, which isn’t quite as sweet (and the drink can be a tad sweet for some anyway, so it’s good to keep a handle on it). Be careful with the lime juice pour as well, as it tends to want to take over (those fresh juices are always a little, well, fresh). I even experimented with subbing in Aperol (that invigorating Italian afternooner) for the curaçao one time, and while it wasn’t a bad drink, it was different enough to where it was actually a different drink. But fun to play with.
Ice cubes
1-1/2 ounce rye
3/4 ounces sweet vermouth
3/4 ounce orange curaçao
1/2 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice
1. Fill a cocktail shaker half way with ice. Add everything. Shake well.
2. Strain the mix into a cocktail glass.
