The Spiral Staircase

NOT FOR THE NOVICE TO ATTEMPT -- Emily Post On Formal Dinner Parties

If the great world of society were a university which issued degrees to those whom it trains to its usages, the magna cum laude honors would be awarded without question, not to the hostess who may have given the most marvelous ball of the decade, but to her who knows best every component detail of preparation and service, no less than every inexorable rule of etiquette, in formal dinner-giving.

To give a perfect dinner of ceremony is the supreme accomplishment of a hostess! It means not alone perfection of furnishing, of service, of culinary skill, but also of personal charm, of tact. The only other occasion when a hostess must have equal—and possibly even greater ability—is the large and somewhat formal week-end party, which includes a dinner or two as by no means its least formidable features.

There are so many aspects to be considered in dinner giving that it is difficult to know whether to begin upstairs or down, or with furnishing, or service, or people, or manners! One thing is certain, no novice should ever begin her social career by attempting a formal dinner, any more than a pupil swimmer, upon being able to take three strokes alone, should attempt to swim three miles out to sea. The former will as surely drown as the latter.

Continue to read Etiquette in Society, in Business, in Politics and at Home, by Emily Post, 1922 via Bartleby.

American Spirits and Cheese

It's always a big honor to teach at Murray's Cheese Shop, where the cheese is always delicious and so are the people.  This month's class was Thanksgiving themed, and I tried to create cocktails using only American ingredients and featuring autumnal flavors.  Here are the recipes and the fabulous cheese pairings Taylor came up with:

1. Classic Champagne Cocktail

4 ounces sparkling wine
1/2 ounce simple syrup or sugar cube
5 dashes bitters (or to taste)
lemon twist to garnish

Place sugar cube or syrup in the bottom of a flute. Add bitters. Fill flute with chilled sparkling wine.Twist rind over surface to express oils.

(To make simple syrup, heat equal parts sugar and water in a pan, stirring until dissolved. Keeps several weeks refrigerated. Raw or demerara sugar tastes best, although this will give clear drinks a slightly cloudy appearance.)

I wanted to start with this cocktail so I could showcase the homemade Boker's bitters I made, following this excellent online advice.  I used Gloria Ferrer's Blanc de Noirs, which stood up nicely to the weird herbal flavors of the bitters.  Taylor paired this with Champlain Valley Creamery Triple Creme, a yummy, fudgy little butterfat bomb.  It was a nice combination, the mushroomy notes in the bloomy rind lifting up some of the minerality of the bubbly and bitters.  Triple cremes are so great with champagne cocktails.

2. Pumpkinhead

3/4 ounce pumpkin butter
3/4 ounce ginger simple syrup
1/2 ounce fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 ounce vanilla vodka
2 dashes orange bitters
chilled Post Road Pumpkin Ale (seasonal release from Brooklyn Brewery)
orange twist to garnish

Shake all ingredients except beer well over ice. Strain into the bottom of a pilsner glass. Top with beer. The beer should comprise about 2/3 of the final volume of the cocktail. Twist orange rind over drink to release oils.

(To make ginger simple syrup, add 3/4 cup chopped, peeled ginger to two cups simple syrup in saucepan. Simmer for five minutes. Strain and discard ginger.)

This drink tasted a little like beer and a little like pumpkin pie.  I used this organic American vodka called Tru that seduced me with its nice graphic design and its promise to plant a tree for every bottle I bought.  It wasn't very good neat -- subdued vanilla flavor and a little oxidized, but it tasted good in this cocktail.  Taylor went for an alpine-style raw milk cheese called Spring Brook Tarentaise.  The pineapple finish was delicious and interacted in a great way with the warm spice of the cocktail.

3. Autumn Apple (recipe from Artisanal Cocktails)

1 1/2 ounces Laird’s bonded apple brandy
1/4 ounce lemon juice
1/2 ounce apple juice
1/4 ounce ginger simple syrup
1/2 ounce sparkling apple cider

Shake all ingredients except sparkling cider well over ice. Strain into chilled cocktail glass. Top with sparkling cider. If desired, float an apple chip atop cocktail. 

This recipe is from the very pretty cookbook from the mixologists at Cyrus.  They recommended some other brand of brandy, but I adore Laird's and will put it in anything.  Taylor went for the classic and pretty unbeatable pairing of Cabot Clothbound Cheddar with this.  Cheddar and apples!

4. The Peekaboo

2 oz Shiraz
1 oz rye
1/2 oz cassis
1/2 oz blackberry puree (sweetened if it is very tart)
1/2 oz lemon juice
2 dashes mint bitters
lemon twist and pepper-sugar rim to garnish

Prepare glass by rimming one half of outside lip with a mixture of black pepper and sugar.  Fill glass with ice.  Shake all ingredients very well over ice and strain into ice-filled, rimmed glass. Twist lemon rind over surface to release oils.

This cocktail is dedicated to my lovely cocktail muse Peekaboo Pointe, who saved my butt by batch mixing everything.  Not only is she the fastest tassel twirler from East to West, she also makes a mean libation.  Cocktails are always better when assembled and shaken a la minute, but batch mixing is an unavoidable evil when it comes to preparing drinks for a crowd.  if you need to batch mix, just multiply these recipes by however many servings you want, then measure your final volume.  Add one third of that volume of spring water and refrigerate until very cold.  (For example, if the total volume of your mix is 3 cups, you will add 1 cup of water.)  The addition of water compensates for the fact that you will not be shaking the drink over ice, which not only chills the mixture but also dilutes it substantially.

I was proud of this drink, which is based off a recipe from Jamie Boudreau's indispensable blog.  I used a really nice California Shiraz, Havens 2003 Hudson Vineyard Syrah, which was delicious and almost a shame to mix with.  It had a big, full body and a pronounced note of pepper on the palate.  The cocktail was missing something and then I thought of adding mint bitters -- this was a perfect touch and reminded me of the herbal notes of certain Rhone Valley reds I've enjoyed in the past.  I bought these Fee Bros mint bitters ages ago and this is the first time I've used them.

This was my favorite pairing of the night.  I had been hoping Taylor would go for a sheep cheese, because I was thinking that if I paired this drink with a food it would be grilled lamb.  The Major Farms Vermont Shepherd was rich and chewy and lasted long in the mouth with a delicious lanolin funk.  I could have eaten it all night long.

5. Dapper Dan

1 1/2 ounces Pear brandy
1 1/2 ounces prickly pear puree
1/2 ounce fresh lime juice
1/2 ounce sage simple syrup
1/2 ounce triple sec

Shake all ingredients vigorously over ice until the outside of the shaker is frosted and beaded with sweat.
Pour, ice and all, into highball glass. If desired, garnish with edible flower.

(To make sage simple syrup, coarsely chop small bunch of sage leaves and bring to a simmer in two cups simple syrup. Turn off heat and let steep 15 minutes. Strain and discard herbs.) 

This cocktail is dedicated to my dapper brother.  It's inspired by a Nick Mautone La Poire cocktail from when I used to work for Grey Goose.  I used French Poire Williams, although I meant to use the excellent domestic pear brandy from Clear Creek distillery but couldn't find it. (Clear Creek is in Oregon, not the Hudson Valley as I claimed during class, but at this point we were five cocktails in and my recall was slipping.)  I also cheated by using imported Triple Sec in this drink, because I had a huge bottle of Patron Citronage that I was trying to get rid of.  I bought the Citronage in a fit of cheapness, but it's not nearly as good as Cointreau or Luxardo, so avoid it.  Prickly pear gives this drink a psychotically magenta color -- it's in season now or you can buy the excellent frozen puree from Perfect Purees, available at Kalustyan's. 

The Rogue Creamery Rogue River Blue Taylor matched this with was phenomenal: creamy, minerally, luscious.  A happy pairing indeed, as the cheese is wrapped with pear brandy-soaked grape leaves as it ages.  

6. Hot Mulled Cider

4 ounces hot apple cider
3/4 ounces Nocino walnut liqueur
1/4 ounce rye whiskey
Fresh nutmeg to garnish

Pour liquor into bottom of heated coffee or tea cup. Top with hot cider. Garnish with a pinch of fresh-grated nutmeg.

Nothing like hot mulled cider on a cold night.  I made this to highlight an excellent new domestic nocino that is all over NYC right now.  Nocino is a bittersweet liqueur made from unripe walnuts and it's one of my favorite things in the world.  It also makes a nice substitute for sweet vermouth in a Manhattan.

 

Taylor paired this with a more assertive blue, Jasper Hill's Bayley Hazen, which she said wasn't showing as well as it usually did.  I thought it was still a fabulous counterpoint to the drink.  The best was when I nibbled at the nutty, funky blue, took a sip of the cider, then ate a walnut. 

The Wedding Brunch

Mazeltov to the new Mr. and Mrs. Deming!  My brother Daniel married Nicole Toohey this Saturday, and a good time was had by all.

For my wedding toast, I retained the services of pet psychic Catherine Fergusen, Ph.D., who, for a mere $25, will answer a single question.   I asked her what the dearly departed Xena Deming had to say on the subject of my brother's wedding.  Xena was a gorgeous, fat, cranky cat whom my brother rescued from a sad life in a neighbor's basement.

According to the pet psychic, Xena approves of my brother's match.  She even requested her photo placed in my brother's suit pocket so she could participate in the wedding!  Thank God.  It would have been a drag if Xena requested that I sabotage the proceedings or leave a dead bird on my brother's doorstep.

The menu at the brunch I threw for the happy couple:

Figs Stuffed with Gorgonzola Dolce and Roasted Walnuts

Warm Artichoke Dip (yummy recipe off the back of Knorr Vegetable Soup)

Mom's Yogurt (amazing to watch her make this)

Homemade Granola (recipe here)

Crenshaw melon, Fresh Pineapple, and Grapes

Mixed German sausages (from the fabulous Rieker's Prime Meats) Braised with Peppers and Onions

Motul-Style Eggs (Rick Bayless recipe)

**
Chocolate Rolls and Almond Log (my croissant dough was an utter failure, but they still tasted OK)

Grandma Bernice's Pecan Rolls

**

Lemonade-Iced Tea

Coffee

and...

XENA'S BLESSING

a simple, sweet punch, to serve a crowd

Mix in a bottle and refrigerate:

1 part creme de cassis
2 parts Cognac

Also refrigerate:

several 1L bottles of ginger ale
several bottles dry sparkling wine (champagne, cava, or prosecco)
big can of pineapple juice

For serving:

bitters to taste (Underberg if you can get it or Angostura) 

When guests arrive, put a huge block of ice (cut the bottom off a half gallon milk carton, fill it with water, and freeze overnight) or a dozen or so cubes into a punchbowl.  Pour about a pint of the cassis-brandy mix over the ice.  Add a healthy splash of pineapple juice (3/4 cup or so), and then pour in a bottle of prosecco and a bottle of ginger ale.  If there is room, add more prosecco.  Add several dashes of bitters to suit your taste.  L'chaim!

The Acquital

At the end of a grueling three days of civic duty, juror number ten retires to her lair with a frosty cocktail, content in the knowledge that justice has been served.

 Oh, you didn’t know I was juror number ten?

That’s because I took a Big Solemn Oath not to blab about the trial while it was going on – not even to the three of you who read my blog.  The judge didn’t say anything about blogging after the fact, though, and so I submit the tale of my heroic, harrowing, and often quite boring experience as Juror Number Ten.

It all began with a questionnaire delivered to my home via the US Postal Service, which ominously requested that I go online and fill out a form.  Disregarding my husband’s advice to throw out said questionnaire, I complied and was summoned to jury duty several months later.

It was difficult to get up and make it to the court at the ungodly hour required (9 AM) since I generally try to avoid going outside during daylight.  But justice is a stern master. I fortified myself with a mocha and put on somber colors, because I hoped that would make me seem like a harsh and angry person unfit for jury service.

In the courthouse, I sat in a vast, clean antechamber with hundreds of other people and waited to have my number called.  As a Jew, I think it is difficult to be in these kinds of situations without thinking: We are waiting to be taken to our death, but maybe that’s just my natural sense of adventure.

A portly man welcomed us from a podium at the front, and played us a video about the history of jurisprudence narrated by Ed Bradley and Diane Sawyer.

We did some fun tearing apart of perforated forms and then after a while some of us got called up to a courtroom on the fifteenth floor. I could not suppress a slight frisson as I took my seat in the wooden jury box for the voir dire, which is the questioning to see if you would be a good juror.  

Even though I didn’t want to have to sit on a jury, I started getting confused and hoping they would pick me after all.  The judge asked us a few standard questions such as whether we had any family members in law enforcement and if we’d been on a jury before.  When she asked if any of us had been the victim of a violent crime, I raised my hand and said I’d been mugged. 

I was sort of hoping she would ask me to recount the exciting story of my mugging – which was technically a draw, since he got my purse but I got his mountain bike – but all she asked was whether a weapon was involved, and I said no, and I ended up getting my feelings a tiny bit hurt, because I think that makes my mugging sound less exciting than other, more weapon-intensive assaults, when in fact it was a really rousing mugging with a nice ebb and flow.

The judge was fabulous throughout.  She was a youngish blond woman who radiated the subdued amusement of a karate master forced to watch the sparring of novices.  She was highly intelligent, as were the lawyers and the bailiff.  That was a nice feeling, knowing that these matters are – at least some of the time – in the hands of people of high intelligence. 

After the judge was done, the lawyers each got to question us.

Having just written two sleazy romance novels starring a hot Korean coed, I found it hard not to have inappropriate thoughts about the prosecutor.  She had bedroom eyes and looked statuesque and pouty in her tailored skirt suits.  Her mellifluous voice oozed concern for the safety of Brooklyn’s streets.  Yum, thought Juror Number Ten.  Even though I have no need for such things, I considered buying a skirt suit.

The defense attorney, at first flush, seemed sort of oily and disingenuous.  Yet, as the trial progressed, I grew to like him more and more.  He was slim and silver-haired and wore a nice suit, but there was something a little askew about him, an earring and multiple bracelets including one of those lamentable cancer bracelets and several leather and bead thingies that looked like something you get on vacation in Mexico.  He was a lefty.

Interestingly, he used the voir dire to establish rapport with the jury, whereas the prosecutor had merely used it to gain information.  He stood closer to us, memorized our names instantly, and asked us trivial questions that we couldn’t help but agree to.  I have learned that this is a trait of successful persuasion: Get your target to agree to something first.  It doesn’t matter what.  Do it enough, and they will get used to saying yes to you. Already from this interaction I started to get the sense that the defense was going to win.

The trial was to determine if the defendant, a young black man, had fired a gun into the air outside a club in Bed-Stuy a few years ago.  The defendant himself never took the stand or spoke.  He just sat there looking nervous and unhappy and very, very young.

There was no physical evidence to directly link him to the gun, however, and the two police eyewitnesses who claimed to have seen him shoot into the air and then stash the gun under a car tire both broke down under the defense’s cross examination to reveal multiple inconsistencies in their stories.  This, combined with memo books that were clearly cooked and a phone log that didn’t corroborate their story, made it an open and shut case. 

As a sort of color commentator, a detective from ballistics came in to talk to us about guns.  She was a dark-skinned woman with a beautiful French name that made me want a glass of wine, and she was badass in a subdued way as she opened up the chamber of the revolver and showed us how it worked.  Everyone showed the gun a lot of respect and at no time did anyone point it at me, not even in play.

The two ordinary cops and the ballistics detective were all significantly overweight, unlike the lawyers, judge, defendant, and most of the jury, who were all in good fighting condition.

The defense attorney, whom I now thoroughly admired, sidled up close enough to us that we could speculate about which Caribbean island he had gotten each of his shell bracelets on, and gave us his closing statement, returning to the crude yet effective guiding metaphor about car sales he had introduced at the voir dire and appealing to our sympathy by saying “This is the worst nightmare of any young African-American man.” 

The prosecutor did not even attempt to make any symbolic or emotional appeals during her summation.  She must have known she couldn’t win, which was why there was sometimes the tiniest touch of resignation in her beautiful eyes.  This only made her more piquant.  And although I slightly resented her redundant, twelve-page closing statement – which read like a college essay with a length requirement – I tried to focus on what was essential: the probable color and cut of her underwear. 

When the twelve of us retired to deliberate, we went around the table and all said “not guilty” right away.  However, we decided to wait to register our verdict until we had eaten our free lunch.  It was Italian, and we once again reached an immediate consensus: it was crap.

We went back in and it's really cool, by the way, how whenever you go in the room they announce "jury entering."  That was good for my self-esteem and I wish that in my normal life whenever I entered a room someone would announce "Sarah entering."  Maybe they could also play the trumpet. 

Our fore-woman rose and said “not guilty,” and it was so nice to see the look of relief on the young defendant’s face.  The guy who makes you swear your oaths – I forget what he’s called – had this incredibly resonant voice, like an old-time radio announcer, and he asked each of us in turn if we agreed with the verdict, and we each said yes, and it had some of the sweetness and ritual of saying yes in the marriage ceremony.  And then everyone in the courtroom seemed like one happy family, except perhaps for the prosecutor – who I thought about trying to cheer up with a back rub but didn’t – and also except for the stenographer, a balding, pale, stooped man straight out of Bartelby the Scrivener whose spectacular toxicity was a nice source of comic relief throughout the trial.

I said goodbye to my fellow jurors – a social worker, a nurse, a substitute teacher, a proofreader, a ballet dancer, a wine shop owner – a rainbow of fruit flavors from all over Brooklyn.  As I headed out into the afternoon, I felt a brief flicker of pride to be an American.  Fortunately this passed quickly, replaced by a more profound and enduring sensation: thirst.

THE ACQUITAL

This delicious summer cocktail has a beautiful rosy pink color to celebrate innocence and new beginnings.

The soju, a smooth Korean vodka distilled from rice, barley or other grains, commemorates the prosecution.  The pluot is an odd fruit, a plum-apricot hybrid, yet its taste wins in the end; it represents the defense.  The large brown sugar cube is for the adorable bailiff, and the champagne is for the judge: a touch of class.  The lime and sloe gin are there to help accentuate the pluot flavor; the latter is a liqueur flavored with blackthorn berries, and the only good brand is Plymouth’s.

1 ounce soju
1/2 ounce sloe gin
2/3 ounces fresh lime juice
1/2 a pluot, cut in wedges
1 extra-large brown sugar cube (a la Perruche or Roland brand or sub 1/2 ounce simple syrup)
generous splash chilled NV champagne

 Muddle the pluot very well with the sugar cube in the bottom of a shaker.  Fill shaker with ice and add all other ingredients except champagne.  Shake vigorously until outside of shaker is frosted and beaded with sweat.  Strain into a chilled cocktail glass or coupe (if you want a drink free from fruit filaments, fine strain).  Top with a generous splash (approx. two ounces) of real, ice-cold champagne.  Drink several and then plot your next crime.

Feasting and Fasting

I'm on the fifth day of the Master Cleanse, where you eat no food but only drink cayenne pepper-maple syrup-lemon juice and do an onerous salt water flush daily.  Crazy perhaps, but it helps undo the damage from all those martinis and Black Iron Horseradish Cheddar Burgers. 

Ethan and I have done this the past few years and I've noticed I get less colds and flus, and that for a while afterward I feel very clean and light.  But I've always stopped at five days before.  This time I plan to do the recommended minimum of ten if I can stand it.  Wish me luck.

I have been having psychotic dreams about food.  Last night I dreamed Ethan was spoonfeeding me curried chicken salad.  I woke up with a sore jaw from grinding my teeth.

This is a fabulous post about lunch at Per Se, one of the most expensive restaurants in New York.

The Schmerler Tour

Today my husband and I joined our brilliant friend Ben Schmerler for a day of walking

and eating.

Ben is a champion of the sport of long distance walking and endurance eating.  When we joined him at 4PM, he had already put in a half dozen miles walking up and down Amsterdam and Columbus Avenues and had a backpack full of cured pork. 

We met at Black Iron Burger where we found it difficult to stop at just one unctuous Iron Horse Burger, cut into thirds, but we reminded each other that we had miles to go and many more delicacies to sample.  A double patty with horseradish cheddar and grilled onions on a soft, toasted sesame bun, this was quite possibly the best burger I've ever had, and set a high bar for the day.  The server told us they order their chuck from New England Meats and grind it fresh daily.  The meat was moist and deliciously fatty, cooked to the perfect medium rare, and required no ketchup.  Superb.  A steal at nine bucks.

Next we went to Rai Rai Ken for a bowl of Ma Po Tofu Ramen.  The grizzled chef there was slightly grumpy about serving one entree to the three of us, but when you are competitive walker-eaters you are not out to make friends.  You are out to walk and eat as much as possible.  This was a great version of the classic, with the perfect amount of heat and a deliciously rich broth that was just the right side of too greasy.  I plan to have another bowl tomorrow, when I go there to retrieve my sunglasses.

Just down the street, we grabbed a soft serve vanilla ice cream from Chikalicious.  I've never been a huge soft serve fan, but this was nice, with specks of real vanilla bean.  Nice but nothing to write home about.  I regretted not trying the cupcakes, which were beautiful, but being a walker-eater is a brutal sport.  Choices must be made. 

Next we grabbed some stools in the window at the attractive Macondo, owned by the nice people who brought us Rayuela.  We'd heard raves about the avocado and mezcal smoothie, but this turned out to be a bit watery and disappointing.  Ethan's gin-pineapple-carrot juice cocktail was slightly medicinal.  My muddled corn with sage and aguardiente was the best, perhaps because it was the only cocktail with strong acidity.  The sage was a nice subtle note in this drink, and the corn gave it a good mouthfeel, but my verdict was that these drinks were overly ambitious. 

Not so the cocktails at Mayahuel, the new tequila-focused bar by the Death and Company people, named after the Mayan fertility goddess.  I was immediately seduced by the beautiful space, which had the cool, dusty smell I associate with my grandmother's basement.  Ben got an oddly salty but otherwise yummy pomegranite sour.  My Cabeza Pequena was a smooth and potent blend of tequila, amaro, grapefruit-infused Punt y Mes, and Maraschino.  But the best drink was Ethan's choice, a highball with lapsang souchong-infused blanco tequila, lime, agave nectar, and tamarindo soda.  It was scrumptious.  We wandered out into the sunshine, in a mildly altered state.

The gentlemen agreed when I suggested buying some cigars to smoke while we walked over the Williamsburg Bridge, since nothing encourages gluttony like a nice Cuban. 

Upon our arrival in Williamsburg, we tucked into some small plates at Dressler, one of my very favorite restaurants of all time.  I told Ben that the older I get the more I care about service over food.  I can cook food that tastes good in my own home; if I choose to go out, I want to be around beautiful, warm people.  This is always the case at Dressler, largely thanks to the gracious host Paul.  We loved the sticky BBQ ribs, lighter-than-air gnocchi with fresh morels, and baby octopus, all washed down with an earthy sparkling rose from the Loire.

Sad to say, the last stop was a bit of an anti-climax.  Service-wise, it was certainly a let-down, our drinks arriving only after we were nearly finished eating, and, while the crust on the lauded Motorino pizza was well-structured and tasty, the Pugiliese pie came topped with burnt broccolini, whose bitterness overwhelmed all the other ingredients.  Ethan: "I'm not sure I understood what they were going for there.  I would have rather had a slice from Pizzatown." 

Amen, my friend.  But sometimes, in the hard life of a competitive walker-eater, defeat must be endured, if only so that we may survive to walk and eat again.  There will be other pizzas, other afternoons.

The Negroni

The Negroni is the cigar of cocktails, one for the gentlemen and the hardened drinkers.  Gary Regan has a nice column about the history of the drink, legendarily created by Count Negroni, who ordered an Americano highball with the bubbly water replaced by gin. 

CLASSIC NEGRONI

1 ounce gin
1 ounce Campari
1 ounce sweet Vermouth
orange twist

Stir all ingredients very well over ice, until the shaker gets frosted and beaded with condensation.  Strain into an ice-filled rocks glass.  Twist the rind over the drink to express oil.  If you want to be flashy, do this through the flame of a match.

I've always been secretly ashamed that it's hard for me to get down a Negroni.  When I make myself one, I skew it a little sweeter:

THE BITTER HEART

1 1/2 ounces gin
1 ounce Campari
1/2 ounce Cointreau
1/2 ounce dry oloroso or amontillado sherry (I like Lustau's "Don Nuño")
orange twist

Same method as Negroni. Garnish with a speared kumquat and drink while plotting revenge on everyone who's ever wronged you. 

Like the Martini, the Negroni can also be made with vodka, but public opinion is on the side of gin.   

Details are everything, so keep your vermouth in the frig, buy organic oranges if you can, and pimp your ice.  I use these groovy trays Julie got me in Japan:

Sur La Table has silicone molds that are great and work well for jello shots, too:

Last night I made this recipe off the Canton bottle, which isn't a real Negroni at all but much sweeter and more girly. 

CANTON NEGRONI

1 1/2 ounces Canton (a ginger liqueur)
1/2 ounce Campari
1/2 ounce Dry Vermouth
1 1/2 ounces fresh-squeezed orange juice
Orange

Shake very well over ice and strain into a chilled rocks glass with big ice cube(s) in it.  Garnish with an orange twist.

This drink was delicious and only mildly bitter.  Just like me!

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.

I said, "Is it good, friend?"

"It is bitter - bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
"Because it is bitter,
"And because it is my heart."

- Stephen Crane

Drinking in the Morning -- Some Recipes and Excuses

Drinking before noon makes a strong statement.  It speaks of the easy life, the dissipated artist, or the hardened alcoholic.  Taylor, head of Education at Murray's Cheese, did a great job of picking cheese pairings for these cocktails at our class yesterday.  It was a delicious, debauched afternoon.  I highly recommend Murray's classes.

Here are my recipes for some of the brunch classics, organized by the excuse used for beginning so early.

EXCUSE # 1: I'M JUST HAVING SOME JUICE

BELLINI (from The Craft of the Cocktail, D. Degroff)

The original was made at Harry's Bar in Venice. 

1 1/2 ounces white peach puree (Kalyustians sells the excellent Perfect Puree brand)
3 ounces Prosecco, well chilled
1/2 ounce peach liqueur (I like Mathilde)

Stir together peach puree and prosecco in mixing glass without ice.  Be gentle so the wine keeps its bubbles.  Strain into champagne flute and float liqueur on top.

FRENCH 75

Named for a French gun and almost as strong.  Some people make this with brandy, but I prefer gin.

1 ounce gin
3/4 simple syrup
1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice
brut champagne, well chilled
lemon twist

Shake first three ingredients very well over ice and strain into chilled flute or coupe, filling it halfway.  Top with champagne and twist lemon rind over top to release oils.

EXCUSE #2: IT'S THE HAIR OF THE DOG THAT BIT ME LAST NIGHT

BLANCO TEQUILA WITH SANGRITA JELLY

This has revivifying qualities.  Serve blanco tequila shots with a jelly shot of sangrita on the side.  Present the jelly shots on lime wheels dusted with cinnamon and salt.

For Roasted Tomato Sangrita Gelee:

1 1/2 cups roasted tomato juice (Run ripe tomatoes under broiler until skins char lightly.  Puree in blender and strain.)
1 1/4 cup fresh-squeezed orange juice
1/4 cup fresh-squeezed lime juice
1/4 cup demerara sugar syrup
fresh-ground dried chipotle chiles, black pepper, and salt to taste (I like this fairly spicy, so I use about 1 tsp ground chipotle)

Mix all ingredients well and season to taste.  This is delicious served as it, but to gel, sprinkle one envelope Knox unflavored gelatin over a half cup of the mixture and let sit five minutes.  Stir gently and heat over boiling water just to dissolve, then stir into rest of sangrita.  Strain mixture and pour into candy molds or silicone ice cube molds.  Wrap well to protect from frig odors, and chill at least five hours.  To unmold, run toothpicks around edges of jellies twice, then dip bottom of mold into hot water.  Invert. 

SAZERAC (also from the wonderful Dale Degroff)

The signature cocktail of New Orleans.  I plan to make this for Ethan tonight, when he gets home from tour.  The mix of Cognac and rye makes this cocktail taste smoother and more refined; you can replace it with all rye for a spicier and earthier drink.  

1 1/2 ounces Cognac
1/2 ounce rye whiskey
Scant teaspoon demerara sugar syrup
2 dashes Peychaud’s bitters
Absinthe, to rinse glass
Lemon twist

Chill old fashioned glass by filling it with shaved ice.  Mix first four ingredients over ice in a shaker and stir very well.  Discard ice from old fashioned glass and add enough absinthe to coat the glass, discarding excess.  Strain chilled cocktail into absinthe-coated glass and twist lemon rind over top.  Rub rind around edge of glass and drop it in.  Serve up or add one large ice cube.

EXCUSE #3: IT'S JUST COFFEE

T ROE’S ESPRESSO MARTINI

This is strong and not overly sweet, different from most drinks of its kind.  I use a fresh-pulled shot from my machine, using the "double shot" setting.

1 1/2 ounces vanilla vodka
3/4 ounce Irish cream liqueur
1/4 ounce dark chocolate liqueur
one shot fresh-pulled espresso

Pour the hot espresso over ice in the shaker and add the rest of the ingredients.  Shake very well and strain into chilled martini glass.  If desired, garnish with a grating of fresh nutmeg.

Cocktail Preparations

It is late in the evening but there is no rest for the Spiral Staircase.  Tomorrow is "Brunch Cocktails and Cheese."  I am going to stay really classic with this one.  Zoe, the Murray's Cheese Affineur, will pick cheese pairings, and I can't wait to see what she comes up with.  I think Affineur is the coolest job title ever.

Here's my menu, following what I see as the three big groups of brunch cocktails.  I'm going with a tequila con sangrita instead of a vodka bloody mary, because I'm a huge fan of blanco tequila. 

"Fizzy and Girly"

Bellini -- white peach puree, schnapps, prosecco
French 75 -- gin, lemon, sugar, champagne, lemon twist

"Hair of the Dog"

Blanco Tequila served neat with Sangrita Gelee
Classic Sazerac -- rye, sugar, bitters, absinthe, lemon twist

"Coffee Cocktail"

Espresso Martini (after T Roe) -- fresh pulled espresso, vanilla vodka, Irish cream liqueur, bittersweet chocolate cocoa

Gotta stay up late making the sangrita jello shots and the bittersweet cocoa, then rise early to squeeze the citrus.  Blogging has been slow lately mostly because I've been getting so much writing done.  I am 40 pages into my fourth novel now! 

Here's a great comic personal essay from my former writing teacher about a bike race/doughnut eating contest.

A Spiral Staircase shout out to my father Mike Deming in Oklahoma City, who is recovering today from surgery on both knees.  Get well soon, Dad!

More on the Twin Cities Theme and the Donald E Westlake Memorial Writing Retreat

I had a great afternoon doing a stage in Chef Jack's kitchen during our Minneapolis visit.  Everyone was very kind, even though I was absurdly inept.  It was a bit like "bring your daughter to work day." 

Chef Jack is a great leader in the kitchen and a consummate host.  If you ever travel to Minneapolis, check out his Chicken Breast with Chestnut Mousse and Truffled Chanterelles.   

Next week I leave for my own personal writing retreat in Mexico, and I am dedicating this retreat to the memory of the great Donald E Westlake.

THINGS I LEARNED FROM DONALD E WESTLAKE

1. Be gentle and self-deprecating in person, but make maniacal art. 

2. Drink white wine.

3. Move your story forward with each sentence.

4. Don't worry about the academy, make your own academy.

5. Take your time setting up a joke.  The best jokes are the ones that take whole novels to set up (like the last line of The Hook). 

6. Don't be sentimental. 

7. Nurture your inner thief/sociopath.

The tragic parrot POV section in Ask the Parrot is the mature Westlake opening up a little and showing off his chops, something he almost never let himself do (see rules 3 and 6 above):

The parrot saw things in black and white.  He knew about this place of his, that it was very strong, and that he was very strong within it, and that whenever he thought he might be hungry, there was food in his tray.  He was clean and preferred to stand on his swinging bar rather than down at the bottom of the world, even at those rare moments when the bottom of the world was made new, almost shining white and black, crisp, noisy if touched, until he began to drop upon it again.

Take that, Flaubert!  Don, you're right up there with the best of them -- thank you for your inspiration.

While in my casita on the ocean, I plan to engage in Westlakean activities such as cranking out a high daily word count, drinking white wine, and reading all 12 volumes of A Dance to the Music of Time by Anthony Powell.  

Blogging will resume mid-February.