Martini Dance

An Ode to My Favorite Beverage

I remember my first cup of coffee. I was three. Mattie, my nanny, always had her tea at 4:30 in the afternoon, only she didn't actually have tea; she had coffee. Just the first of a myriad of Southern ironies we take as they come along. Wanting to be like a grownup, I begged and pleaded, and finally she acquiesced, granting my wish in the form of barely a drop of coffee in a demitasse cup with warm milk and a tad of sugar.


Of course I wasn't addicted then and could take it or leave it, truly happy in the fact that I was having tea with the grownups, not that I had a cup of jo in my hand.

My next tryst with coffee was during my teen years when my dad and I would drink it together. I suppose I was still the little girl wanting to be like the grownups because I took mine black just like he did. That first sip was a doozy. I had to concentrate not to screw up my face in a grimace. But I decided that if I was going to drink this brew, I might as well do it correctly and enjoy the nuances of flavor and depth instead of masking it with cream and sugar. And anyway, who knew when cream or sugar would be available?

I like my coffee like I like my men: hot, strong, bitter and rich. Mike likes HIS coffee blonde and sweet, which makes me wonder why he likes me.


So Mom gave me a fancy pants coffee maker for Christmas when I was 16. Sure, she received a few odd looks, but I was thrilled. At this point I had been hooked for a while and limping along with our old percolator. That coffee maker ranks right up there with the Nintendo.

Over the years coffee and I have begun the morning together in all sorts moods and all sorts of settings all over the world. One Mardi Gras morning I had awesome coffee with a corn dog for breakfast on the corner of Julia and St. Charles. We have drunk coffee on the beach with toes in the sand. Coffee accompanied me at a sidewalk cafe for breakfast in Wyoming. I have endured Yankee "newspaper coffee," so named because it's so weak you can read the newspaper through it in a clear cup. And Mayan coffee and I did the salsa in Quintana Roo.


Most recently Mike and I had coffee while bumping along in Europe. It was both indulgence and a delicious way to stay awake for all that partying. Reminds me of what my friend Matt always used to say:


But it hasn't all been fun and games with my friend coffee. The first time Mike took me to Florida to meet his parents, nobody told me they drink "half-caff." Half-caff? What in the world is that? It didn't make sense to me. Completely unconscionable. On the Fourth of July, the fourth day we were there, Mike and I were sitting on a beautiful lakeside dock, watching beautiful fireworks. My head on his shoulder. Beautiful, sweet, loving moment. I mentioned that my head had been hurting a lot that afternoon and wondered aloud if it was all the water that found its way up my nose when I was trying to learn how to ski. THEN Mike mentioned the half-caff. My response?

Give me the keys to the truck and point me to the nearest grocery store. Now.

I'm not kidding. We went that night to get me come Cokes, chocolate, and those little coffee singles. I put one in with my cup of half-caff to supplement my caffeine addiction. His side of the story makes me sound a lot more mean.


Addiction is not pretty. There have been mornings at fish camp in which I filter the grounds with paper towels. Or a clean sock. Or sometimes nothing at all. Oh yes, I have been there. That desperation to have your first fix and then everything will be OK. Or getting out of bed on a Sunday morning because the headache tells you to. Slowly but surely, I have outgrown having that monkey on my back.

So about a month ago I decided to shake it off. For Mike's sake I have done it gradually with what I like to call the "scoop method." I used to take four scoops regular in our four-cup French press. So for about a week I took three scoops regular, one scoop decaf, then two and two, then one regular and three decaf, down to four decaf. I haven't had a fully caffeinated beverage since Thursday, January 14. Where's my chip?

And Mike is still fully intact.

But what is a French press, you ask? Only the best damn way to fix a cup in my humble opinion. And I have 16 years of experience.

Pull out the plunger and the attached top. Put coffee in the glass carafe - one Tablespoon per cup. Boil water in a tea kettle and pour that on top of the loose ground coffee, then put the top on with the plunger up. Let it steep for at least 3-4 minutes, slowly push down the plunger, and enjoy.

If I can do it before I've even had a cup, then you can do it. Believe me.

It's inexpensive, it doesn't require filters, and probably the best part is that you can clean it in the dishwasher and fully sanitize everything. You could put this baby in an autoclave for Pete's sake. That's important because the materials that actually touch your coffee in the brewing process can affect the taste. The fact that only very clean glass and the stainless steel filter comes into contact with the coffee makes for a better brew. And I like knowing there aren't any creepy-crawlies hanging out in some intricate coffee maker tubing.

Even though I have kicked the caffeine habit, I still do love my coffee. Currently my favorite is Peet's. Decaf, of course. Who would have ever believed it?

Photos courtesy of (in no particular order) Peet's, reasonpad.com, Sorted.org, Williams-Sonoma, GourmetGal, ScienceBlogs, pdphoto.com, FoundS--t.com.

X-Rated

I owe somebody a bottle of booze.

It all started last Saturday afternoon. It was raining. The weather had been rather cold and punk for weeks on end. As in the beginning of Carmina Burana, I had had enough. All this darkness, cold, and dreary was past being on my nerves. So I decided to bake a pan of my cheyenne pepper brownies. You know, the brownie that bites you back.

Since my dear neighbor Missy likes them so much (and because I wanted to spread the fat around, so to speak), I decided to take half the pan to share with her. When I arrived at her back door, she and her mom had a glass of wine waiting for me. That and their fantastic company did the trick to lift my spirits and bring the sunshine out. And I've been a complete Eeyore lately.

But wait, there's more. I don't even remember how it came up, but on my way out the door Missy loaned me a bottle of X-Rated. Sounds rather like Love Potion Number 9, doesn't it? I guess she wanted to lift Mike's spirits too.

Get this. X-Rated Fusion Liqueur: A Sensuous Fusion of Ultra Premium French Vodka & Sicilian Blood Orange Mingling with Mango & Passion Fruits. That's what's on the bottle! But unlike "do-me shoes," I firmly believe this beverage has other applications in addition to seduction. The bright pink color makes it absolutely perfect for a girls' night out, a bunco party, or just a little something to make you giggle. I know it did me.

Oh, and hey, Valentine's Day is coming up!

As a general rule, I don't really enjoy sweet drinks. Sweet tea is a no. Even cranberry juice sometimes hits my ugh-finish-this-for-me-while-I-fix-a-gin-&-tonic bone. But this stuff? This stuff is sweet and SASSY. Mix it with champagne or orange juice or pineapple juice. Or ice. Or just drink it straight from the bottle. Mike had to keep me from doing that. Before I knew it, I'd mixed it with some orange juice and downed half the bottle in one sitting.

I'm his little boozehound.

Now I'm going to go clear out from my browser history all the crazy porn sites that I stumbled upon when looking for a picture of this stuff.

But tomorrow night it will definitely be one of our favorite Thursday Night cocktails.

X-Rated photo courtesy of (and great recipes can be found at) Spirit Me Away. Shoes photo courtesy of Saks, and pinup girl photo courtesy of art.com.

Hot Buttered Rhum

We have yet to try hot chocolate and rhum, but the sign in the photo above has forever changed the way I spell Mike's favorite liquor. And I really like that the skull is smiling over its crossbones. We figured it was almost as cold here as it gets in Prague, so we decided to have a warm drink for our Thursday night cocktail.

They know how to do cold in Prague. We had seen the picturesque vistas of the Czech Republic covered in snow, yet we were still somewhat shocked by the chill that greeted us in September. The highs on some days were in the low 50s, and we were both glad to have packed in layers.

We soon realized that the Czech eat as if they are storing up for a long, hard winter. Lots of beef, potatoes, dumplings sausage, onions, and gravy. Good Lord at the gravy. And goulash. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner: goulash and gravy, goulash and gravy, goulash and gravy. I once ordered a grilled chicken salad for lunch and received a side order of goulash and gravy, courtesy of the house. And believe it or not, scrambled eggs and goulash really isn't that bad.

Try as I might, I did not eat the first green thing during our entire stay.

But they make up for it in knowing how to drink. I suppose they have to do it to keep warm. Arguably the birthplace of absinthe and beer, these people take it to an art form. On the train from Prague to Munich, we stopped at a place called Pilsner. Sound familiar? And there is a centuries-standing rivalry between the Czech Republic and Germany as to who makes the better brew.

Let me share with you my most recent observance on warm alcoholic beverages: they go down smoothly. Too smoothly. Because you usually can't taste the liquor and are trying to fend off a chill, they creep up on you, and before you know it you're putting leftovers in the dishwasher and dirty dishes in the fridge. Not that I would know from personal experience or anything.

I also have to share that I was puttering around the kitchen while Mike worked beside me on this new drink of ours. And I noticed there was a tub of Country Crock on the counter. I looked at the tub. I looked at Mike. I looked back at the tub. And he was all, "What?" And I was all, "Hot Country-Crocked Rhum?" And then he let me bring out the real butter.

Roughly translated: You must be at least this tall or 18 years old to drink. Or really cold.


Hot Buttered Rhum

2 ounces rhum

1 teaspoon sugar

1 cinnamon stick

4-6 whole cloves

Boiling cider (to fill)

1 teaspoon butter

Garnish: spiral of lemon peel

1. Stir the spices and rhum in a mug and fill with cider.
2. Garnish with the lemon peel.
3. Float the butter on top.

Mexican Cider

I have been looking for a warm adult beverage for these cold winter nights ever since the first snap in November, and this one sent to us from my friend Lorena was just the ticket! It served as our aperitif before going out to dinner for New Year's Eve and doubled as our Thursday Night Cocktail.

2 quarts apple cider

1/4 cup lemon juice

1 2/3 cups Tequila

1/3 cup orange flavored liquor, like Triple Sec

1 or 2 lemons sliced thinly for garnish

Cinnamon sticks for garnish

1. In a medium pot, combine the apple cider and lemon juice.
2. Bring to a simmer over medium heat.
3. Add the rest of the ingredients and reheat to a simmer.

This stuff goes down very smoothly and will sneak up and have you giggling incoherently before you realize it. Remember, one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor.

Careful, it's hot.

Disclaimer: this was actually just hot cider, sans tequila. Mike was on call for New Year's Eve, so he had to go the non-alcoholic route. More tequila (and a designated driver) for me!

Green Fairies

Legality or illegality of importation of absinthe products for personal, in-home consumption aside, let's just say Mike and I came across an intriguing green liquor while abroad. We bought and brought home considerably less than the .75 L bottle-per-person limit and stored it in our checked luggage. I smiled big to our customs agent, and here we are ready to try it out in the comfort and safety of our own home.

For one of our most exotic Thursday Night Cocktails.

For a party drink, you can't do much better than this showstopper for beauty, elegance, and good (very) old-fashioned craftsmanship. There are two basic, very old-school ways to fix up an absinthe drink: fire and ice.

We chose the fire method for two reasons: 1. it used less alcohol and 2. it sounded pretty cool and just a little bit dangerous. Highly flammable alcohol, sugar, and flame? Sign me right up!

So, to fix a firey absinthe drink:
1. Pour one ounce of absinthe into a glass.
2. Drop a sugar cube into the absinthe and let it soak up the alcohol.
3. Using a slotted spoon, pull the sugar cube out and balance the spoon across the top of the glass.
4. Light the sugar on fire.
5. Just as the fire dies down and after it caramelizes, drop the remains of the sugar back into the absinthe and stir vigorously.
6. Top with another shot of water and ice, if preferred.

It tastes like licorice and star anise and is more bitter than I thought it would be but less bitter than Mike expected. You can buy Absente in America, but it lacks the chemical Thujone, which is said to carry sight, taste, and smell hallucinogenic properties.

For an icy absinthe drink:
1. Pour two ounces of absinthe into a parfait-style absinthe glass.
2. Balance a slotted spoon across the top of the glass.
3. Put a sugar cube on the slotted spoon, and very slowly drop 5 ounces icewater over the sugar cube.
4. Stir the rest of the cube into the drink and enjoy.

We might try this one later, but for now I think I'll leave this drink to Mike. The flavor is a little intense for me.

Claudia's Gateau Basque

OK, so actually it's RelishMag's gateau basque, but remember how I said Claudia fed us until we were about to pop? This was one of our very favorite dishes. We really relished it.

Once upon a time, long long ago, I visited friends in the Basque region of France. We stayed in the resort town of Biarritz, where we ate pain au chocolat and cherries and delicious butter so unerved in its own ink (so good, and a lot of fun: you can take a drop of ink and make your own mole a la Marilyn Monroe!). We sunbathed topless and watched the tandem (two people to a board) section of the surfing festival.

Interesting social more of some nude beaches: if you're single, then you keep your top on. If you're dating somebody or otherwise taken, then anything goes. I found it somewhat backward and ironic at first, but there is something to be said for keeping the girls covered: men find it more alluring and enjoy having something left to the imagination. So all my single ladies, if you want him to put a ring on it, cover it up. If not, wear good sunscreen, and don't forget to reapply.

Anyway.

One morning after a particularly long night with the delectable Izarra, and having been awoken by the dulcet tones of a brass trumpet played by a rocket scientist as the base of the stairs (Really. I'm not creative enough to make this up.), we decided to drive across the border to a restaurant in Spain. The Basque Region is an achingly-beautiful one. The trees were so dense that the only sunlight available was filtered through their huge emerald and golden leaves. Pocked with immense moss-covered boulders, the terrain was rugged and mysterious. The road was narrow and curvy, and combined with the festivities of the previous night, I was soon overcome by a highly unusual case of motion sickness. The changes in altitude, switchbacks, hairpins, and constantly changing focus to take in the exquisite landscape around me was almost too much.refined that you could see the fat and salt in it. I was introduced to the luxury of olives stuffed with anchovies and the most fascinating acid-green liquor called green Izarra. It was the first time I ever appreciated squid sBut just as soon as I realized I wasn't feeling well, we arrived at a large rustic cabin with red shutters on a hill in the woods. The view was impeccable. The food was the best I had ever tasted, and I experienced a miraculously speedy recovery. This was the authentic stuff to which Williams-Sonoma chefs aspire. Homemade cheeses served on a slab of marble. Hand-kneaded artisan breads still warm from the oven. Simple, rustic stewed meat dishes with seasonings and resultant aromas developed and handed down through the family over centuries.
We ate until we could stand no more, and then the lady of the house brought us a gateau much like this one.

Ingredients
Dough:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup ground almonds
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) butter, softened
1 cup sugar
3 egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Custard filling:3/4 cup milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
3 egg yolks
1/3 cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions
1. To prepare dough, combine flour, almonds, baking powder and salt.
2. Combine butter and sugar; beat with a mixer at medium speed until creamy.
- Add egg yolks and vanilla; mix until smooth.
- While mixing, slowly add flour mixture.
- Beat until thoroughly combined and mixture clings together when pressed against the side of bowl.
- Divide into 2 portions, with one portion slightly larger than the other.
- Flatten each into a disk; wrap with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 1 hour or up to 2 days. 3. To prepare custard filling, heat milk and cream in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. - Whisk together egg yolks, sugar and cornstarch.
- When milk mixture is hot, slowly drizzle it into yolk mixture while vigorously whisking.
- Return mixture to pan and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until custard becomes very thick. (If lumps form, whisk until smooth.)
- Stir in vanilla.
- Transfer custard to a medium bowl.
- Place plastic wrap directly on top of custard.
- Refrigerate 30 minutes.
4. Preheat oven to 400F.
- Butter bottom and sides of an 8- or 9-inch springform pan.
5. To assemble, roll larger portion of dough into a 101/2-inch round (dough will be thick).
- Place in bottom of pan, pressing excess dough up the inside edge of pan.
- Add filling, spreading evenly.
- Roll remaining dough into a 9-inch round.
- Place on top of dough and filling in pan; press edges of dough to seal and form a rim.
- Place on baking sheet.
- Bake 20 minutes.
- Reduce heat to 350F and continue baking 15 minutes, or until cake is golden brown.
- Cool on a wire rack at least 45 minutes before serving.
- Slice using a serrated knife.
- Refrigerate remaining cake after serving.
Serves 10. Recipe by Tara McElhose-Eiguren and Charles Smothermon, "Basque in the Flavor," Sept. 2009.
I found a small, delightfully wrapped package in my bag while on the train back to Montpellier. My dear friend Marianne had given me the treasure of a sterling Basque cross, or lauburu, just like the one below. Legend has it that this cross was the one worn by some Crusaders during the 12th century because it wasn't readily recognized as the Christian cross.

Now whenever we travel I still wear this cross and have often found comfort in it. Friends have said it looks like a boat propeller or even a swastika, but those weren't used until the 19th century. This symbol is easily recognized in southern France and northeastern Spain and is traditionally placed on top of a gateau basque, either in dough form or by cutting the dough. Years later, in Merida, Mexico, a fellow traveler crossed the street and started a conversation with me because it reminded her of home.
So there you have it. Food, nudity, geography, and a sociology lesson all wrapped up in a neat little package!

Photos courtesy of RelishMag, biology-blog, and jewelmarketplace.

Bellini

I've never had a drink made entirely of white peach puree and Prosecco, and I have to admit, Thursday night's cocktail was the best Bellini I have ever tasted. In a former life long, long, ago I had dinner alone at the bar of the Ritz Carlton in Philadelphia, PA. A man down the bar began sending drinks my way. Three, all champagne-based. The first was a Kir Royale: champagne and Chambord raspberry liqueur or Creme de Cassis. The second was a champagne cocktail: champagne with a cube of sugar and Angostura bitters. And the third was a Bellini. But the bartender messed up: he used peach schnapps instead of just plain peaches. As classy as my admirer's move was, I enjoyed the drinks heartily, nodded at him from across the bar, and retired to my room seule.

If he was dumb enough to send them, I'm dumb enough to enjoy them. But NOT dumb enough for anything else.

In honor of our impending second honeymoon - I know, I know, are you EVER going to depart?!? We tend to plan way ahead and have as much fun looking forward to it as the actual trip -I figured we'd have authentic bellinis for our biweekly Thursday-before-Mike's-Friday-off cocktail.

What is an authentic bellini, you ask? Per Harry's Bar (where they were invented):

Created sometime in the thirties by Giuseppe Cipriani, he christened his white peach cocktail "the Bellini" (after Giovanni Bellini, the fifteenth century Venetian painter) in 1948.

Made with Prosecco instead of Champagne, it is nevertheless widely regarded as the best Champagne cocktail in the world. When making a Bellini, everything (the glasses, Prosecco and white peach puree) should be as cold as possible. The general rule is to use one part white peach puree to three parts Prosecco.

Use fresh frozen white peach puree when you can, but when making your own puree, never use a food processor because it aerates the fruit. (Maurice Graham Henry often uses a cheese
shredder, shredding the peaches and using a strainer to collect the maximum amount of juice.) Add a bit of sugar or some simple syrup if the puree is too tart or a tad sour. And absolutely never use yellow peaches to make a Bellini.

Ever had a Bellini somewhere other than at a Cipriani restaurant that just tasted terrible? The barman probably threw in entirely unnecessary additional ingredients (like peach schnapps).

And in my usual way, I have to take all this fancy-pants champagne talk down a notch or two: nothing, absolutely nothing goes with champagne and derivative drinks better than boiled peanuts.

It is a lovely day here in beautiful Downtown Burbank, ah, I mean Jackson. The weather is a low, low 72 degrees in August, for Pete's sake, and rain is intermittently softly falling as a system slowly moves over the Southeast. Mike and I are somewhat worn out from yesterday's ski adventure. Six runs on an almost deserted Pearl River was just what we needed! Dante is snoozing on the couch, all the windows and doors are thrown open, and spaghetti sauce with meatballs are simmering on the stove.

Mix1 Giveaway!

We went skiing at Wolf Lake this past weekend. I took along a bottle of Mix1. I skied seven times. It was awesome. Yes, it's an energy shake, but it is creamy and tasty and makes me feel like Popeye when I've had one. Invincible.

Per Mix1:
philosophy:
It seems our days have become increasingly packed with events as we juggle family, work, and fitness leaving less time to focus on eating right throughout the day.
There are many nutritional products claiming to deliver amazing benefits but in reality fall short on balanced nutrition. With this in mind, we started mix1 with the following mission: to create the highest quality all-natural products that promote health, wellness and performance through truly functional nutrition.
mix1 products deliver all-natural balanced nutrition with multiple benefits in a convenient way. We use the right balance of ingredients, at efficacious levels, to provide the maximum benefit to your body.
But wait - there's more! The delightful Randy at Mix1 has offered a case - a CASE! - of the beautiful bottled beverage. All you have to do to enter this contest is leave me a comment with your email address on this post by Monday, August 24th.

Good luck, and happy Mixing!

Photo courtesy of Mix1.

Mix1

Check out what was waiting on our doorstep when I returned home yesterday afternoon. Thank you Randy at Mix1 and Amanda at Nourish!

I have to admit. I am an novice when it comes to protein, antioxidant, or energy drinks. I'm also rather skeptical in my old-school ways. Well, except for coffee. Does coffeee count? Probably not.

But let's just say I had one this morning for breakfast. And I had enough energy to run/walk the dog 3.5 miles, unload the dishwasher, wash, dry, and fold 3 loads of laundry, and mow the lawn. Mow the lawn, people.

All before lunch. Did I mention our mower is an old-school pusher, powered only by yours truly? And we have hills?

This stuff is definitely worth a try.

Sloe Gin Fizz

Ahhh. Thursday night. Before one of Mike's fridays off. Is there anything better? In general, he gets every other Friday off, so every other Thursday feels like a holiday.

So I suppose I'm drunk blogging. Bear with me.

I've wanted to try a sloe gin fizz ever since I heard Blanche offer one to somebody on The Golden Girls. Man, I must be tipsy to admit that online! I'd never heard of one before, and I thought it was "slow" instead of "sloe," and I couldn't for the life of me figure out how one could make gin fizz slowly. I happened to see the episode on again last week, and I figured this Thursday would be the night for us to give it a try.

The picture above is the second manifestation. The first try was from the back of the bottle: 1 1/2 parts sloe gin, 1 part lemon juice, and 3 parts club soda.

Y.U.C.K.

It was so tart that my teeth hurt. How could Blanche ever serve this to one of her gentleman callers?!? Every time I sipped it, my face involuntarily crimped up like I'd just eaten a sour jolly rancher. As I type this, my mouth is watering just thinking about it. Lesson learned: don't use 1 part lemon juice.

Then Mike suggested we look at his bartender's book. I know it's a good one because it's what they use down at Wine & Sprits. Mike knows it's a good one because I gave it to him for our one-year anniversary. Hey, it was paper. And apparently we are boozehounds.

In that vein, allow me a moment to sing the praises of Wine & Sprits: if you live close by, definitely give these guys a shot. I emailed Nick back in April to see if he could somehow smuggle some Mumm champange directly from the winery for us - we discovered it during our trip to San Francisco and couldn't ship any back to Mississippi. Nick printed out my email and KEEPS IT in his binder with detailed notes of his correspondence with Mumm! Impressed? I should think so!

But I digress. Our bartender book said to try 1 part sloe gin, 1 part sour mix, and 1 1/4 part club soda. Sour mix! That's the key!

When I'm tending bar, I tend to pour by counts. For instance, gin for a gin & tonic (G&T) is a 2 - 3 count depending on how sassy I'm feeling. I'm just tipsy enough to realize that the rhythm by which I count is actually my heartbeat. Lord help me if I'm relaxed and have a slow heart rate.

Tonight I poured the sloe to a 2, the sour to a 1.75, and topped it off with club soda. Stirred it with a nearby chopstick.

Bingo.

Did I mention the gardenia is blooming again? I can't beleive it's that time of year. Where did 2009 go?

Cipriani (pronounced "sip-ree-AHN-ee")

My dad and Mike are both awesome bartenders. One of my favorite times of the week involves Mike going to our bar and pulling out a book I gave him for our first aniversary. We're slowly working our way though it. Dad once made this drink for us, and we THINK it was called a Cipriani, but after I had a couple, I honestly couldn't remember if it was a Cipriani, caipirinha, coolata, or yo' momma.

It's probably not a caipirinha - that's the national cocktail of Brazil, and it includes superfine sugar (pronounced "supafine") instead of bitters.

Anyway, we love this drink. And after several attempts to find out the exact name of it despite my rum-induced muddle, I found Harry's Bar in Venice, one of the spots we hope to visit in September. Harry's Bar is the birthplace of the belini, a joyous little cocktail named after Giovanni Bellini, a fifteenth century Venetian painter, and made of Prosecco and white peach puree, one part peach to three parts Prosecco.

Harry's Bar was founded by Giuseppi CIPRIANI. Coincidence? I think not. Unless I am corrected, the definitive drink name had been found. At any rate, they're very rare, and if you order one from Mike, he'll know what to fix you.

1/2 lime, quartered
Ice cubes
1-2 ounces black strap rum
Dash Angostura bitters
Tonic water

• Muddle lime in the bottom of a highball glass.
• Fill glass with ice cubes.
• Add rum and bitters.
• Top off with tonic water.
• Gently rattle or stir.

....Old age has finally come and I go for breakfast every day at Harry's Bar ... I still have one more dream: a tavern - spacious, dignified, festive, and eloquent, where "ombre" fly across the counter like the whiskies and beers in a Western saloon....Sometimes it's good to dream. Now I can take the liberty of raising a toast to myself, to you, to us, as I think of this gift of drink as a perpetual well-spring of joy and good humor.

Cheers to the world!
- Giuseppe Cipriani
Photos, historical information, and quote courtesy of Signore Cipriani and Harry's Bar.

Bourbon Slush

Almost two years ago, Mike and I got married. Along with forty-seven bottles of our favorite champagne, Martini Rossi Asti, the Fairview Inn served its signature drink, Boubon Slush. It's one of my favorite summertime drinks ever. Peter was kind enough to give me the recipe, but it's a rather highly-guarded secret. If you want some, you'll just have to come on over to our house.

And judging by all the alcohol consumed, it's no wonder three babies were conceived that day.

Photo courtesy of The Fairview.

Algonquin

This is a new aperitif for us - Mike made it last night, and I really liked it. The pretty yellow color reminded me of the daffodills on the table.

1 1/2 ounce whiskey

1 ounce dry vermouth

1 ounce pineapple juice

ice cubes

Shake ingredients in a cocktail shaker and strain into a glass with fresh ice.

Peacock Paradise

It's still in development, but we're having a great time researching!

Malibu Italian Surfer / Peacock Paradise

Next time we have a party, this drink must be in the pitcher!

1 ounce coconut rum
1/2 ounce amaretto
1 splash cranberry juice
1 splash pineapple juice
Ice cubes

Build over ice in a highball glass.

But you know I'll have to spice it up. The pitcher version will have pineapple chunks and maraschino cherries in it. And I might try some tonic water. Blue curacao will definitely be added.

And the name will be Peacock Paradise.

Photo courtesy of Malibu Vacation Rentals.