The ABC -- Autumn Bourbon Cidre, Or The Boozy Apple

And now, without further ado, our first ever guest blogger -- THE HUSBAND!!

The Husband's original creation:
The ABC -- Autumn Bourbon Cidre, Or The Boozy Apple

So... the other night, The (Other) Husband asked me to create a cocktail for our Friday night happy hour drink.  As readers know, we are avid Manhattan fans, so I wanted to do something a little different this night.  

Earlier in the day I was grocery shopping and stopped by the juice counter at the local grocery store.  I really dig good apple cider and picked up a quart.  Little did I know this was going to be the inspiration of our cocktail hour.  So as the time came to create a perfect drink for the evening, and wanting to do something new and different, I thought to my self.... HMMMMMM what if i used that apple cider in some way?  With... vodka...? No.... Tequila...? No.... Bourbon...?  YES!   What a great coooombination.

I filled our glasses with ice, added 2 oz. of bourbon and filled the glass with cider.  As this cider was a little tart, I added a 1/2 oz. of maraschino cherry juice, gave a quick stir and... presto...!  Our happy hour cocktail....  I give you the ABC -- Autumn Bourbon Cidre, Or The Boozy Apple!

(Dilettante: Ain't he great?!  I love how different his voice is.  Thanks for playing, Schnooks! ;-)

Highlander

LB makes another guest photographer appearance!

It's been a long, late winter with colds, sinus infections, ear infections and ruptured eardrums.  So there hasn't been a lot of desire to get the party on.  But Dilettante's hearing is back to about 90%, spring is springing, the Red Umbrella Rooftop has been reset for the approaching season and the shakers are chilling!

Over the years our neighbor friend, LB (of He Shot, She Shot fame!), and I have developed a bit of a tradition.  We call it a "shaker visit".  Shaker visits typically happen when one or both of us are so busy with work that we can't properly hangout together.  But we recognize the importance of a small break to be social, recharge our creative batteries, and then get back to matters at hand.  It works this way:  I go to the bar, select a cocktail, and mix it up in a shaker or mixing glass.  Then I grab two glasses and hop the elevator to her floor.  A short walk down the hall and I knock on her door.  When she opens the door I flash a smile and say, "Shaker visit!"  LB invites me in and I pour two servings from the shaker.  The visit lasts only as long as the cocktail, which is a necessary constraint if there's work to be done because we have exactly zero problem hanging out for hours and hours being silly and solving the world's problems.  Then it's back to work whether we like it or not!

LB is my inspiration for my own photography.
Here she captured "my process".

Even though last night was Date Nite, with all the sickness and end-of-winter doldrums, I've been missing my LB (& my buddy, Rocky!) and thought a shaker visit was a nice work-around.  So I snuck down to their place a bit early and squeezed one in before The Husband got home from work.  I selected something to kick Friday night off right and proper.  In the past few weeks, when I've been in the mood for hard liquor, I've been in much more of a traditional vein.  PDT and Death & Co. are great books and all.  But they can be a bit hipster fussy.  So I've been mixing from The Bible again.  The Highlander made the cut to take down to LB's place.  I must have been drinking already, because I swear the recipe said rye.  So that's what I used.  But when I got home and looked at the book again, turns out it calls for scotch.  Though the rye worked quite nicely.  The Highlander is as smooth as butter with a respectable sweetness.  The first one I made sans cherry.  La douxième avec.  Frankly, I could distinguish no difference in flavor.  Though it did add to the Highlander's already jewel-like quality.

I'm sure in some corners folks call this a rye Manhattan.  But a rose by any other name....  And speaking of roses, it was most excellent hanging out with you, my dear LB...and of course, Rocky!  xoxo


Highlander
1 oz. whisky (or, as it turns out, rye makes for a tasty variation)
1 oz. sweet vermouth
2 dashes orange bitters

Stir in a mixing glass with lots of ice.  Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.  Garnish with a maraschino cherry.

And with my photo, it's officially
a He Shot, She Shot shaker visit!

Flor de Jalisco

I come from a family that loves food.  We enjoy cooking and baking.  We like eating too.  But I think what it's really all about is everyone getting together around the table to laugh and enjoy each others' company.  Luckily, we have many good cooks in the family, so the eating ain't nothing to complain about!  And with a number of funny storytellers the laughter is constant and the company good company to keep!

After finally giving in to the Dark Side and signing up on Facebook a year ago, I've come to regret that decision more often than not.  But the one way FB has been a pleasure is the group to which my sister signed me up.  It's our Cousins Cooking Club.  We cousins are spread all across the country and the globe.  From out ancestral New York & New Jersey all the way to New Zealand, with stops in Pennsylvania, Chicago, Denver, and Seattle.  (Holler, because I'm sure I missed some!)  A virtual schmear across the planet.  Sadly, geography separates us.  But food and the joy of cooking maintain the connections.  And as much as I'm loathe to admit it, Facebook has facilitated some fun connections among a bunch of people who are related but spread way too far apart.

Since Dilettante has resurfaced yet again, I've been posting on Facebook and on the Cousin's Cooking Club.  Last week's post caused a cuz to speak up.  So this week's featured spec is courtesy of cousin Mary Anne who generously suggested another use for our new coupes.  Y aquí está: Flor de Jalisco.

In a word, num!  In The Husband's words, "It's a margarita!"  (Ok, kinda.  But flor de jalisco sounds more... elevated.)  Since we don't like sweet drinks I initially thought I'd try it without the agave.  But I believe in a baseline, so I always start with a recipe as it's written before I go monkeying with it. But as it turns out, no monkeying required.

Delish.  Make this, like, now.  Thanks, Mary Anne!  I'm thinking "Mary Anne's Flor de Jalisco" could be the featured loopy juice on the 2017 Red Umbrella Rooftop!

Flor de Jalisco
2 oz. blanco tequila
3/4 oz. lemon juice
1/2 oz. agave
1 t. orange marmalade

Fill a cocktail shaker with ice.  Add all the ingredients and shake well.  Strain into chilled coup and garnish with an orange twist.

Southside

Seems there's always something that gets in the way of a return to blogging.  This time it was the fact that the electoral college is about to put an authoritarian Cheeto with the expressive capacity of a 9 year-old, tiny hands, and a bad comb-over in the White House.  After waking up on November 9th to find we'd slipped into an alternate quantum reality, I simply didn't feel like doing frivolous things, like blogging about booze.  Drinking to escape seemed about all I could muster.  But a month on in this new bizzaro world and we're starting to find respite in the quotidian...for as long as that lasts.

So, on to it....

As the second snowfall of the season came down last night, I booted up Netflix on the ol' 60-inch to settle in and watch a movie.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed The Husband rummaging through the growing pile of UPS boxes collecting around the front door.  Next thing, he's standing in front of me holding one out.

"What's this?"

"Merry Christmas, a little early.  I figured you should open this now so you can enjoy it."

I've been saying how much I love coups -- which are all the rage lately on the trendy bar scene.  So I was totally stoked when I opened up the box to find a black Waterford box inside.  And inside that were two huge lead crystal coups.  Strong, deep cuts form a ring of diamonds and rays around the bottom of a massive bowl so big you could serve soup in them.  With a smooth base and stem this vessel sits nice and heavy in the hand.  All very masculine for cut crystal.

I passed them off to The Husband to rinse out while I sprinted to the bar to leaf through PDT.  The only requirement on this bev were the words "serve in a chilled coup glass".  The first one I landed on was Southside.

I didn't expect to like this at all.  I am not a gin fan and there were not enough other ingredients to mask it.  And we all know how The Husband feels about too much citrus in his tipple.  But hey, it was all about the coup, so we were prepared to suffer through it.  Yet on the first sip we both looked at each other, eyes wide and said in unison, "Wow!  This is good!!"

A perfect, smooth, balance of all the ingredients.  Truly, liquid satin in a glass.

Then the three ultimate raves from The Husband:  "Oh, you're definitely doing this one again.  I could drink these all night!  Put it on the blog!"

Et voilà!  Un autre retour....

Southside
2 oz. gin
.75 oz. lemon juice
.75 oz. simple syrup
4 mint leaves

Muddle the syrup with the mint.  Then add the rest of the ingredients and shake.  Serve with no garnish in chilled coup glass!  (PDT suggests double straining, but I like the flecks of mint confetti in the finished product!)

I Ain't Afraid of No Goat! Black Me Stout

Black Me Stout by Champion Brewing Co.

"Bryant...  The Cubs... WIN THE WORLD SERIES!!!! Bryant makes the play!  It's over!  And the Cubs have finally won it all in 7 and 10!"

The Dilettante's been a little wrought and preoccupied the last few weeks -- what with the post-season and THE CUBS WINNING THE WORLD SERIES and all!!!!  Yeah, that's a cup from Wrigley with both the Cubs & World Series logos on it!  Uh-huh!  Now that Wrigley's serving Goose Island products, maybe now they can add a stout.  Like this "Black Me Stout" from Champion Brewing Company of Virginia.  This is total speculation, but I think they named the brewery for the WORLD CHAMPION CHICAGO CUBS!!!!  (Does Virginia have a baseball team?  Nope.  Gotta pick either the Nats or the O's, I guess.)

Just soaking it all in while waiting for the start of the victory parade.

Not too sure about that name, but the beer is good.  It is, in fact, black.  Even casts a shadow in direct afternoon sunlight.  Just like the can -- which had to be just out of focus so we could see the beer in the pint and THE CUBS WORLD SERIES SOUVENIR CUP!!!!  Not too heavy, not too light.  The beer that is.  Not the fact that THE CUBS WON THE WORLD SERIES!!!!  That's totally heavy!  And exquisitely light!  Magic, in fact!  More bitter than sweet.  The beer that is.  Not that THE CUBS WON THE WORLD SERIES!!!!  'Cuz that's totally sweet!  There are some chocolate notes -- but more cacao than cocoa.  Overall, it has more of the  dark sweetness that tips into bitterness characteristic of molasses, which makes it easy to enjoy multiples.  You know, kinda like getting used to THE CUBS WINNING THE WORLD SERIES!!!!

(And just because it's the sweetest thing to watch...)

Beer & Mussels at Corridor Brewery & Provisions

Lake Michigan, Chicago, October, 23

After a last minute trip to Michigan to help with some family matters, we slid back into Chicago on a glorious Sunday afternoon to find Indian summer in full effect.  As we drove along Lake Shore Drive, The Husband suggested we do dinner at a new brewery in the 'hood.  We walked in the door, tossed the rollerboards in the bedroom, and splashed some water on our faces.  We watered the plants and headed right back out to Corridor Brewery & Provisions to water ourselves.  We have at thing for mussels and they have 3 flavors on their menu -- Belgian Style with beer broth, cream buttered leek & fresh herbs; Red Curry with coconut milk, cilantro and lime; and Saffron with white wine, chicken stock, roasted potatoes, and Spanish chorizo.  We decided to work our way through them, ordering one of each.  But we stopped with the second.  The Red Curry was so good we knew that anything to follow would be a disappointment.

A day that makes ya wanna put
on a skirt, get on your cycle,  
and ride along the lake.

To drink, all I really wanted was an ice-cold vodka martini with half-a-dozen olives, but you don't go to a new brew pub and not order beer.  So Freaky Deaky Belgian Breakfast Stout it was.  Three of them, by the time we paid the bill!  And it totally tasted like breakfast.  Bitter, like charred bacon.  Sweet, like oatmeal; with a touch of brown sugar unifying all of it.  Three went down super easy.  The Husband had Doubledore Double IPA.  I'm kinda one-and-done with IPA's.  He took a sip and gave a wow-it's-very-citrusy holler.  In a cocktail that's usually a turn-off for him.  But in a beer, it seems to be the opposite.  It was citrusy, and hoppy, and coriander with that slight pininess that is intriguing for the first round, but after that turns somewhat soapy and I'm out.

Upshot: Freaky Deaky Breakfast Belgian Stout

(After the mussels we both had the pulled pork sandwich.  Decent.  It could've used more sauce.   Coleslaw came on it which I usually like.  This slaw was just ok...until I figured out those weird, sweet things were bits-o-pineapple in it.  [*All 4 AGT judges hit their buzzers simultaneously...*]  The fries, however, were excellent!  The stout complimented the pork very well.)

All-in-all, a gorgeous night.  Even after the sun went down and the sky turned inky black above the street lights, the air was beautiful.  Can't believe we're down to 10 hours, 40 minutes of daylight and the steady slide into winter....

Dark & Limey

summer turns autumn
still rum lime soda want friends 
turmeric makes fall


Dark & Limey
1 T. grated fresh turmeric
2 t. granulated sugar
Dash of salt
1/4 t. lime zest
1 1/2 oz. dark rum
1 1/2 T. fresh lime juice
3 ice cubes
4 oz. seltzer
Dash of bitters

Muddle turmeric, sugar, salt, lime zest and bitters in a mixing glass.  Add rum, juice, and 3 cubes.  Stir until chilled.  Strain into a highball glass filled with ice and top with seltzer.  Garnish with twist of lime rind.

The Dark & Limey is a wonderfully light, bright fall bev I found in the October 2016 issue of Cooking Light.  Dare I call it an autumn mojito?  If you can't find fresh turmeric root you can swap a teaspoon of ground which seemed like a lot; so I used a scant teaspoon to avoid grittiness.  I've made it now with both the fresh and ground.  The ground did have, let's say, "mouthfeel".  But on the whole, I think it was richer, which makes sense.  The fresh version had a much lighter quality that made the drink seem a bit more watery.  But on the whole, this is a nice cocktail for hanging out with friends and can go a couple rounds with it!

Gin Ricky

Scott’s eyes opened with the sunrise.  They usually did.  Each morning his first thought was to roll over and wrap around Katie as she slept.  It was always a calculation though. He longed for the response of every other girlfriend he ever had.  How they yielded to the warmth of his body.  He loved, too, when they wrapped around him in the middle of the night.  His consciousness surfaced just long enough to sense that entwining and then submerge again, feeling strong and protective as well as safe and protected.  

But Kate was not like that.  He suspected that she came to completely as his body molded to hers.  A threat response.  Her neurons firing Warning! Danger!  Rather than melting into him, she solidified.  No observer would ever see it – the imperceptible stiffening that happened on a cellular level.  But he felt it.  It humiliated him.  He felt spurned.  Undesirable.  Ego-crushed.  But then there were the occasions when she pulled his arms around her, backed up and pressed into his pelvis.  On those mornings he soared.  He felt whole.  His senses buzzed, yet he was completely relaxed.  The world was a perfect place.  In these moments Scott believed Katie did want to be with him.  Did, in fact, love him.  Desire him. 

But with so much risk, it could never be spontaneous.  Each morning it was a decision.  An unsafe moment in what ought to be a safe place.  Should he take the chance?  What is the cost-benefit ratio for his ego today?  This morning he felt strong enough to absorb likely rejection.

“Uuunnh,” she groaned, and rolled out from under his arm and as close to the edge of the bed as she could get.  She grimaced.  “Don’t….”

He laid there, looking at her back.  “What time did you get in last night?”

“I have no idea.  I think we hit every bar in the Viagra Triangle.”  

“Wow.  Cheryl and her daddy issues.”

“Tell me about it.”   Katie groaned again as she flopped her legs to the floor and hauled herself up to sit on the side of the bed.  She stood slowly and, holding her head, lurched towards bathroom.  She looked a wreck.  “We wound up at The Lodge where some fifty year old with a bad toup kept buying us gin rickies.  Round after round after round.”

“Well, I suppose you could’ve just said, ‘no’,” he called towards the john.

“If I wanted a father, I’d bar hop with Cheryl more,” she half yelled back.  “Besides, they went down way too easy.”

Scott got out of bed, pulled on his pajama bottoms, and followed her.  “I thought you don’t like gin,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

“I don’t.  But this didn’t taste like gin, exactly.”

“Rickies are good.  Very bright and citrusy.  We should make it this year’s summer cocktail.”

“Do you mind terribly if we don’t talk about booze right now?”  Katie pleaded, head hanging, elbows on either side of the sink.  Her hair fell every which way to completely hide her face.  She grabbed her temples.  “I just need to get through this day so I can come home and collapse after work.”

“Ok,” Scott lilted as he turned around and headed off towards the kitchen.  “But remember,” he called back, “you have that intervention tonight with your mom & Aunt Gina.”

He couldn’t contain the smirk as he heard the words oh god slide into the sounds of a night’s overindulgence coming to its rightful conclusion in the sink.

Schadenfreude.


Gin Ricky
2 oz. gin
1oz. lime juice
1/2 oz. simple syrup
club soda

Short shake all ingredients except the soda with a few ice cubes -- just enough to put a chill to the ingredients.  Pour into ice-filled highball glass.  Top with soda and garnish with a lime wedge.

Mulled White Wine

“Look kiddo, we love that you want to hang out with us and that you’re comfortable enough to just drop by.  But you really need to get out more.”

“I am out.  I’m not home, I’m here.”

Mickey smirked, raised an amusedly irked eyebrow, and looked over the tops of his readers at his son on the other side of the kitchen.  “You’re handsome, young, and single.  So, when you show up on your parents’ doorstep on a Friday night with a thermos of mulled white wine, yeah, we gotta think there are better places for you to be.”

“What?  Where else do I have to be?  Besides, I feel so English and lord-of-the-medieval-manor when I drink mulled wine.  It’s a payoff of your investment in my MA.  Plus, you have the best goblets to drink it from.”  He clinked is father’s chalice and sipped.  “What do you think about the pear in it?”  

“Ok, let’s quit dancing around this elephant here, shall we?  So it didn’t work out with Theo.  That was Theo —“

“Here we go!”

 “ — You have tons of talent and love to give someone —“

“— ‘And we know there’s a guy out there who will connect with you and you with him.’”  
                                                      
“That’s right.  But you’re not going to find him hanging out with your folks on prime club nights.  Get your ass out of here and out on Halsted!” 

“Really, dad?  Get my ass out on Halsted?”

“Yeah," he winked, "get your ass out on Halsted.”

“Boundaries.”

“Oh, look who’s here.”  Gina came into the kitchen adjusting a bangle earring and kissed Christopher on the cheek.  “Is it Friday already?”

“Perfect.  Take your son with you.” 

“Nope.  It’s girls’ night with a mission.  I can only handle one broken-hearted depressive at a time."

“Nice,” said Chris, and raised his glass in a sarcastic air toast to his mother.  “Besides, I do not want to spend an evening with that Trixie bitch, Katie.”

“A master’s in English, the entire language at your command, and that’s the word you choose to describe a woman.  What did we get for our investment?”

“Mulled wine on a cold night delivered right to our door,” Mickey retorted, pouring her one.  "Served in goblets!"

Gina pinched Chris’s scruffy chin affectionately.  “Sweety, get your ass out on Halsted.”  


Mulled White Wine
2 t. black pepper corns
2 t. whole cloves
1 bottle pinot grigio
1/8 c. granulated sugar
1 small bunch sage
1 small bunch thyme
Rind and 2 T. juice from 1 lemon
1 c. pear eau de vie or brandy
1 firm, ripe pear, peeled, cored and thinly sliced

Place the peppercorns and cloves in a  medium saucepan.  Stir over a medium heat until fragrant, approx. 2 minutes.  

Add wine, sugar sage, thyme, and lemon rind and juice.  Bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring until sugar is completely dissolved.  Reduce heat to lowest setting and simmer for 10 minutes.

Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl and discard solids.  Return mixture to saucepan and stir in eau de vie or brandy and pear slices.  Simmer over medium low heat until pears are fork-tender but still retain their shape, about 8-10 minutes.  Serve placing several slices of pear in each glass as garnish.

Brandy Alexander

“Evening, Ladies.  What’ll it be?”

Emma sat down on the bar stool.  The winter cold had set into the hardwood seat and seeped right through her skirt to the back of her thighs.  It made her shiver on this frigid night.  It didn’t help that the bar was directly across from the door and this place was so damned popular.  She just knew it would never be closed long enough for her to warm up before another blast of January slithered along the floor and coiled up her legs.  

“A Brandy Alexander.”

“A what?”

“Jesus,” Katie whispered, rolling her eyes as only a twentysomething can do when her parent does something so unbelievably stupid.  “I’ll have a gold margarita, please.”  She said it to the bartender, but was looking at Emma with a passive aggressive smile.  A mean girl.

This was a mistake, Emma thought.  And not for the first time since leaving the house.

“Emma, this is a Mexican place.”  Gina was Emma’s closest friend.  They met only one month after Emma moved to Chicago.  They had been through hookups, boyfriends, marriages, child birth, death, and now, divorce together.  There was no one Emma was closer to.  They cherished each other.  Closer than sisters.  But sometimes Gina could be utterly clueless.

“What’s in it?  Maybe I can make it for you.”

“No, you can’t,” snapped Katie.  “It’s a classic cocktail from, like nineteen-fifty-whatever, that she and my father used to drink like all the time.  And if you make one for her she’ll just wallow in it.”  She turned to Emma.  “We’ve come here - on a Friday night - with you - to get you out of the house and have a fucking good time.  You’re having a margarita like everyone else.”  

The bartender escaped awkwardly into his phone and slowly withdrew from the scene, wandering toward the refuge of the kitchen pickup window.  “Great!  Now you scared off the bartender!” Katie exclaimed and spun on her stool to pout at the packed dining room.  A moment later he was back.  Gina asked for a gold margarita as well and he started mixing.  

Emma sat, hands in her lap, staring blankly at the back bar, mirrored and up-lighted, bejeweled with glowing bottles of all shapes and colors.  Gina placed her hands on Emma’s and gently spun her stool so they faced each other.  “Em, it’s been five months since the paperwork was final.  You have to get out of the house.”

Emma sighed.  “Please, Gina.”  A divorce after 42 years of marriage.  She shouldn’t have to explain the grief and devastation to her closest friend.  So they sat holding hands, staring past each other.

“Ok, ladies, here you go.”  Katie jerked back around.  “Two gold margaritas and a Brandy Alexander.”  Katie grabbed her straw and rolled her eyes as she sucked.  He leaned in to Emma.  “I looked it up.  We just don’t have any nutmeg for the top.”  She looked at him.  She felt her lips catching his smirk.  “But we’ll call it a Brandy Alejandro so we don’t piss off la princesa over here," he said, nodding towards Katie.  He winked. His smirk nearly broke into a full blown smile as he walked down the bar to another customer.

Gina looked at Emma.  What almost broke on the bartender had on Emma.  A smile spread gently across her face.  Tears brimmed but did not fall.  Her heart warmed so, that she didn’t even notice another winter gust blowing in the open door.

Brandy Alexander

3 oz cognac or brandy

2 oz dark creme de cacao

4 oz half and half

1 cup crushed ice

Nutmeg to garnish

Combine the cognac or brandy, creme de cacao, half and half and ice in a shaker.  Shake well and strain into 2 chilled highball glasses.  Sprinkle with nutmeg to serve.

Hot Toddy-Or, The Siblinghood of the Traveling Mug

"After a strenuous six months of travel all over these great and glorious United States, I've finally returned home.  And what perfect way to celebrate that homecoming than with a walk to the end of the lake on a damp winter's day and a hot toddy?  Traditional?  Yes.  Easy?  You bet.  But then again, what should the holidays be?  Especially when sipping with family!"

(This post goes out to The Dilettante's sister, C. of One Kiss Creations fame!  *SMOOCHES!*)

Hot Toddy

2 T. honey

1 c. hot water

6 T. bourbon

2 cinnamon sticks

Bring water just to a boil.  Mix with the honey.  Place 3 tablespoons of bourbon and a cinnamon stick in two toddy glasses (or in this case, a traveling mug and another of wintry spirit) and pour half the hot water and honey mixture in each.  Stir and garnish with a strip of lemon peel.  If you'd like a bit more lemon zing, squeeze just a couple drops from the lemon.

Enjoy one or two with someone you love -- and who needs their cockles warmed! 

Drinking Chocolate

Drinking chocolate- spiked or not,
the perfect sippable winter dessert

It's been a busy week in the run-up to Christmas.  While our annual Solstice celebration was pared
down to just a few family and friends, there was a lot of cooking and baking to do.  So no cocktails Friday night.  Yet the Dilettante needs to post something during the fragile opening stages of a return from hiatus.

At this time of year we always tend to think big when it comes to desserts.  Cakes, cookies, pies, and brownies are all just delivery vehicles for over the top gooey, creamy, buttery, sugary.   And I'll admit, I was no exception to this extravagance.  In 6 desserts on the buffet I used 1 1/2 gallons of whole milk, a gallon of heavy cream, 2 pounds of butter, about 2 pounds of sugar, and 2 dozen eggs.  My lord.  Double your Crestor dosage.

But here's an idea.  Instead -- or in addition to fewer of the gooey, creamy, etc.-- why not make dessert drinkable?

As part of the solstice dessert buffet, I included a pot of drinking chocolate along with decanters of cognac and Irish whiskey.  Revelers had a choice of straight chocolate or to spike it according to their tastes.  Simple.  Elegant.  Classy.

Happy solstice, everyone!  There will be one more minute of daylight Monday!  Long live the Oak King!

Drinking Chocolate*
1 vanilla bean
4 1/2 c. milk
4 oz. unsweetened chocolate
2 T. sugar


Slit the vanilla bean lengthwise, put in a saucepan with the milk and bring to a boil.  Course-chop the chocolate into small pieces and put in another saucepan with some of the warm milk to melt.  Remove the bean and scrape the vanilla seeds that are left in the pod with the tip of a knife and add back to the milk.  Stir the chocolate mixture into the hot milk along with the sugar.

At this point you could serve it as is.  But if you want a super silky drink, strain it once or twice.  Drinking chocolate is not very sweet, but it is rich with intense cocoa flavor.

Serve in shooter glasses as is or with cognac to make Russian drinking chocolate or with Irish whiskey for Irish drinking chocolate.

*: Recipe courtesy of The Chocolate Bible, by Christian Teubner, et al.

Coffey Park Swizzle

The pic captures my mood this season.
Ambivalent and washed out when it comes to the holidays.
But the Coffey Park Swizzle is a bright spot of warmth and color.

The Holidays.  Or, the Holla-daze.  I'm finding myself a bit ambivalent about the season of light and gifting now that Thanksgiving is over.  So, I thought a cocktail that tasted like a North American Christmas would help me rally.  Isn't it funny how the flavors of a northern winter are downright Caribbean?  All those warm spices like nutmeg and clove and allspice and ginger.  I don't know whether I want to build an edible house, bake cookies shaped like amorphous little men, or make jerk chicken.

The Dilettante sat down with Death & Co. over morning coffee to cruise the text looking for just the right sipper to suit the mood.  (At this point I'm feeling the need to reassure that even though he was looking at a mixology text while enjoying his morning cuppa, the Dilettante does not have a problem.  Well, let's qualify that.  The Dilettante does not have a problem with booze.  Several other categories are up for grabs!)  Leafing through the pages I came across a whole section of swizzles.  Interesting, but not necessarily what one thinks about as a winter beverage since swizzles are typically served in pilsners filled with crushed ice.  Think adult snow cone.  That's summer rooftop, right?  But then Coffey Park Swizzle caught my eye and the taste buds began to imagine.  This could be just the cocktail to jump start my mood for the winter season.  But first I needed to do some shopping and then just a bit of advance prep before Happy Hour!

Such an interesting mix of ingredients -- both familiar and new.  Even as we were taking our first sip, I really didn't know if this was gonna play out.  All the ingredients -- sherry (recalling that classic short story, "The Cask of Amontillado"), French Caribbean rum, lime juice, ginger syrup, the exotic new Falernum, bitters -- each on its own was so good.  But mixed incorrectly, this could easily wind up being a tall cold glass of soap.

There is a lot to sort out in that first sip.  The words "interesting" and "I don't know" immediately followed it.  The Partner and I stood in front of the tree, warily eyeing each other.  We couldn't even sit down, locked in place by that first sip, impish smirks on our faces as we processed what our taste buds were telling us.  I wanted to like it, so, the next sip.  Processing.  By the third, we knew we had a winner.  Cold, wintery, refreshing and spicy.  A little ginger syrup goes a long way.  So much so that our lips were still tingling in the cab on the way to dinner after only one round.  And one round is really all an imbiber should attempt.  A tall, cold aperitif that morphs as the crushed ice melts and nuances the drink's complexity.  In fact, the Coffey Park Swizzle put us very much in mind of the Bourbon Squash which has become one of our summer go-tos.  So summer swizzle, winter swizzle. Coffey Park could be the featured cocktail on the bar until spring.

Coffey Park Swizzle
1 oz. rhum*
1 oz. sherry
1/4 oz. Falernum
3/4 oz. lime juice
3/4 oz. ginger syrup
3 dashes Angostura bitters

Mix the first 5 ingredients in a shaker with only a few pieces of crushed ice and shake just until cool.  Strain into a pilsner filled with crushed ice and swizzle**.  Add the bitters and blend it down through the drink, swizzling and stirring to do so.  Garnish with mint sprig.



*: Rhum or rhum agricole is the French Antilles version of rum, made from cane sugar as opposed to cane molasses.  If you can't find the former, feel confident substituting the latter.

**: The verb swizzle means to stir by spinning a stirring stick between both hands while drawing it up and down in the glass.  The noun swizzle or swizzle stick is not what we think of today as a stir stick.  It's more like a muddler with a set of short spines coming perpendicularly off the bottom.  So when it spins it creates a bit of a vortex to mix.  A regular stir stick will not do this effectively.  If you can't find a swizzle stick, you can get the job done pretty well with a long bar spoon.

Death & Co. Double Fill-Up

Ahhh...Here's to homecomings.  It's good to be back and getting into a cocktail groove again.  Something to look forward to in the cold, dark months ahead as winter takes hold of Chicagoland.  Thanks to all who have provided feedback and encouragement during the Dilettante's hiatus.  It's so affirming to hear that people read the blog and have missed it while dormant.

So, why the return now?  Last week, The Partner and I hosted Thanksgiving for the first time.  My folks -- the consummate road-trippers -- drove in from NJ with dear family friends to spend the week with us.  (The Partner's folks were here and it was great stuffing them full of food and drink too; though their road trip was just from the suburbs :-)  As thank you/host gifts, my folks brought two great books.  One is the spark of inspiration to reboot our exploratory cocktailing and blogging.  It's a gorgeous book from the famous NYC bar, Death & Co.  I'm going to enjoy reading it as well as mixing from it.

Friday is, of course, Date Nite.  I chose our pre-dinner tipple as an homage to the gift givers.  Nothing would please dad more than if he never had to stop for gas when on the road.  A double gas tank?  Heaven.  So, Double Fill-Up caught my eye and seemed an appropriate choice.  Reading the ingredients list, I recalled a conversation in the kitchen with mom on Thanksgiving Day.  While I was preparing something she was reading over the recipe for one of the sides I made.

"Pomegranate molasses?  I've never heard of such a thing!"  So again, Double Fill-Up seemed the right choice for our first sip from the new book they gave us.

What good luck to pick a new bev for the Dilettante's return that goes right into Drink it Again, Sam.  Not only does it look like a nice apple cider, it rather tastes like one too.  It's very much about the play between the lemon juice and molasses that gets it there.

Now, what you've all been waiting for, The Partner's reaction:

"Oh.  OOOOH!" as he responded to the initial refreshing tartness and then the slightest teasing sweetness in the finish.  "This is good!  This is really good!"  Three sips later, "I'd do this one again!"  He would repeat this refrain two more times on our way to dinner.  And as you know, if The Partner has a second, it's a good drink and not too citrusy.

So there you have it.  The "inaugural reboot post".  Google pomegranate molasses and find a store near you that carries it.  Not only is it good in a cocktail, it's great in stews and salad dressings, so it will get used.  Bottoms up! 

Double Fill-Up
2 oz. good quality rye
3/4 oz. simple syrup
3/4 oz. lemon juice
1 tsp. pomegranate molasses
3 mint leaves

Shake all ingredients over ice and double strain into a chilled coupe.  Garnish with a mint leaf.

Siesta

Last night was Kitchen Warming #2.  The guest list included friend & kitchen remodeler, T., so we needed the signature cocktail to honor him & his fine work.  Since of all the intoxicants on the planet one can imbibe he only drinks tequila our choices were limited.  Or perhaps it's better described as "focused".  Enter PDT's Siesta.  

On the page it looked decent.  The reality was something we haven't had in a while-- a cocktail worthy of the "Make it again Sam" label and unanimously positive reviews.  The Partner & I took it out for a test drive on Date Night, just to make certain it was something our guests would enjoy.  Such sacrifice....

The best way to describe the Siesta is a grapefruit margarita with depth & dimension brought by the Campari.  Think of it as the ultimate American cocktail.  Where else in the world can a Mexican, an Italian, and a Jamaican come together and make such beautiful offspring? 

How did our warming guests take to it?  Well, let's put it this way.  Of our four guests, J. & E.  don't really drink.  T. only drinks tequila, as mentioned.  And his partner, C., is orbital by the bottom of his second glass.  As I mixed one round, I'd look up to find the other couple's glasses empty.  Upon refreshing those, the ones I'd just filled were only moments away from needing refills.  No one should be surprised to hear that there were several "These go down way too easys" spoken throughout happy hour.  This is how we killed a bottle of Patrón in about an hour's time.  Good thing dinner was shrimp étouffée with andouille spoon bread.  The total fat from half a pound of butter, 3 cups of heavy cream, four eggs, and a pound of pork sausage provided an effective firewall to all that firewater!

Siesta
2 oz. tequila*
1/2 oz. Campari
1/2 oz. grapefruit juice**
1/2 oz. lime juice
1/2-3/4 oz. simple syrup

Shake with ice and pour into chilled coupes.  Garnish with a grapefruit twist.

*:  On Date Nite we tested the Siesta with Patrón Silver.  For the warming we used Patrón Añejo.  The Añejo makes a much smoother cocktail.
**:  We used ruby reds and squeezed the fruit ourselves.  We then strained it to remove the pulp which, while delicious and adds healthful fiber to any cocktail, also makes them cloudy.  It's a sweet, fresh ingredient as opposed to the odd quality even the freshest "fresh squeezed" store-bought variety generally has.