October 16, 2010
Before leaving for Italy (detailed on my blog Six Months In Italy), I went through and re-read almost all the Easy Rawlins books by Walter Mosley. I think Mosley is one of the finest writers living today, and think the Easy Rawlins books are the best Mosley books (and too often talked about only as detective fiction, which is silly as they transcend genre by the end of the first page, if not the first sentence, of the first book, Devil in a Blue Dress). These books are, like Dickens in a way, imaginative tour de forces due to their ability to summon up a specific time and place (LA is the place for Easy Rawlins, with the times starting in the 50s and moving on up) so completely you become completely immersed in it, and in the characters, which feel real in their motivations and feelings and actions and thoughts, as real as people who walked the earth at any time in history. So, if you haven’t read Mosley, get after it. Black Betty is a book in the middle part of the Easy Rawlins collection, and this quote is one of the best I’ve read about whiskey, the soul of it and the underlying personality whiskey carries with every sip.
There are few things as beautiful as a glass bottle filled with deep amber whiskey. Liquor shines when the light hits it, reminiscent of precious things like jewels and gold. But whiskey is better than some lifeless bracelet or coronet. Whiskey is a living thing capable of any emotion that you are. It’s love and deep laughter and brotherhood of the type that bonds nations together.
Whiskey is your friend when nobody else comes around.
And whiskey is solace that holds you tighter than most lovers can.
–Walter Mosley, Black Betty
April 2, 2010
I’ve enjoyed some Early Times Kentucky bourbon in my time (as has Hoke Moseley, detailed below). But I’ve never received it “handsomely wrapped at no extra cost.” Which is probably why my eyes never went to the wacky angle like the lady’s below–looking directly at her man’s neck? Adam’s apple? She looks a little frightened too, right? There is fear in those eyes. Maybe she knows what Early Times does to her man? Or maybe she forgot to wash her hair this morning and is worried that he’s smelling it without having a drink first, ruining the Early Times’ bouquet? Or maybe (shudder to think) he’s giving her a bit of a spanking in the part of the photo we can’t see, because she was supposed to buy the Early Times yesterday and forgot? Did I take it too far? It is Friday, and something about this is eerie to me. Maybe I need some Early Times, is my problem. Or maybe the 50s weren’t all well-wrapped bourbon and flowers.
March 12, 2010
Make no mistakes ya mo’rons (I’m just saying “mo’rons” for alliteration by the way–I know you are Einsteins), I’m mad for Maker’s Mark bourbon. It’s an old standby for me, and something I consume on a regular basis, especially when in a dive-y lounge in the back of a Chinese restaurant you’d never eat in, or in a bar frequented by fishermen, or in a Karaoke dive that has a pirate theme. These are places I’m known and happy to be in, but not places where the bartender is gonna whip up some fancy cocktail–but where they will pour you a helluva stiff drink. In these spots, I usually head for the Maker’s and ginger ale (with a lime and some bitters when available), cause it’s a rock steady reliable consumable, or a nice Miller High Life (the Champagne of beers) and a little Maker’s on the rocks. Up until recently, I thought of Maker’s as the perfect mid-range bourbon, a longtime bourbon for the (drunken) people, a very democratic drink. And then I came across the below ad. I guess that I was wrong. Turns out Maker’s was at one time aimed at yachtsmen and fellas who think $50 isn’t much for a haircut. Thank gawd I was born once the bourbon market had found a lower level.
February 16, 2010
Here’s the problem, today (one of many, but hey, I don’t have that much time, as drinks are waiting for me somewhere). You want to fly safely, and avoid dangerous situations, but you also want to bring your booze on the trip, because everything is better with it (even being stuck next to that smelly guy that has to lean on you in the crowded coach section). With that said, I think there should be an addendum in aviation security that allows you to carry on a suitcase with one of these genius flat Old Crow Traveler bottles built in (see below ad for example)–as long as you’ll take a drink from it before boarding. Of course, Old Crow will have to bring these (genius, again, I say) bottles. But we can start a petition. I know my pal Jeremy Holt (author of Double Take, the world’s best cookbook, by the way) is in. And my man Ed Skoog (author of Mister Skylight, the world’s best poetry collection). And my comrade Dr. Gonzo (writer and director of Battleship!Battleship!Battleship!, the world’s best film about competitive Battleship playing). All of who are travelers. What about you? Let’s get this airline party started, like in the below ad (which, to be nostalgic, points to a better time. For flying at least).
January 6, 2009
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.”
— Paul Holt, “The Wine and the Waistcoat”
October 15, 2008
Charlotte Brontë’s third published novel isn’t rampant with cocktailing (more focused on life in a boarding school in a bustling French town), but it is brilliantly fun to read for the precise and flourishing prose, and for the following quote, which I think delves perfectly into the aroma, and nature, of whiskey:
“A heated stove made the air of this room oppressive; and, to mend matters, it was scented with an odor rather strong than delicate: a perfume, indeed, altogether surprising and unexpected under the circumstances, being like the combination of smoke with some spirituous essence–a smell, in short, of whiskey.”
–Charlotte Brontë, Villette
