The Bon Vivant’s Companion

It’s New Year’s Eve.  We could talk champagne, cocktails, and New Year’s traditions.  We could chat about resolutions, goals, and plans for the New Year.  All quaint New Year’s topics to be sure, but ones you won’t give a rat’s ass about tomorrow morning when you’re hiding in a dark room begging a higher power to make the pain go away.  So, if you really want to start 2009 on the right foot, let’s discuss hangover cures.

There are hundreds of them, hair of the dog, spicy drinks, heavy foods.  Jumping up and down on one foot, huge amounts of Gatorade, breathing into a paper bag (that might be panic attacks).  If you have a cure that works for you – great – keep it, share it, get it warmed up for tomorrow.

If you don’t, here is mine, given to me by a bartender, and voracious consumer of spirits.
Hangover Cure:

A large glass of water
A package of Emergen C
(a small glass of orange juice can be substituted)
A spoonful of honey
2 aspirin

Before Bed:
Dissolve Emergen C in water, swallow honey, and down the aspirin.

Now sleep.
If you wake up hours later feeling a little fuzzy repeat spoonful of honey/ glass of water.

WHY:
You are dehydrated.  When patients are suffering from extreme dehydration (which you are not, by the way) the are given glucose water.  Water with natural sugars that can be easily processed by the body in it’s damaged state.  The sugars bind to protein cells in the kidneys and keep nutrients from being lost, and allow for re-hydration.

For your comparatively mild dehydration,  honey is the natural sugar that will perform the binding/hydrating/energizing task outlined above.  The body also easily absorbs Emergen C (for nutrients); water is the conduit, and aspirin – well – that’s just insurance.

A Bloody Mary in the morning won’t kill you either.  Stay clear of sugary drinks, and caffeine, and take it easy.

Happy New Year’s!

There is something iconic and beautiful about a single shot of Whiskey.  It’s the drink of choice for cinematic tough guys who sidle up to bars and drink from dirty glasses before demanding the bottle.  The drink of writer’s and poets on their road to self-destruction, and of Chris, my best friend from college, who slugged whiskey from the bottle (and then chased it with Coke from a Big Gulp).  Personally, the Big Gulp ruined the aesthetics for me, so when we drank together, I’d belt my whiskey unflinchingly straight, no chaser.  Grrrrr.  When you’re really badass, no mixers or glassware required.

Years have passed, Chris has turned to German beer, and I’ve learned to use a rocks glass (and when really being fancy, rocks).  Whiskey is still my drink of choice, and occasionally, when the situation calls for it, I embrace the simplicity of the single shot.

Like when I couldn’t move, a shot of bourbon got me into the car for my grandfather’s funeral.  After a harrowing week on the road, it helped me celebrate my move across the country, and when my college diploma arrived in the mail, after a decade of being held hostage, Jack Daniels and I met it at the door.

This year, while visiting family for Christmas, a single shot of whiskey eased me into my holiday.  For some reason, it was a long road back to Chicago, and it’s negative five-degree weather.  I was alone, didn’t want to be, and while the evening before had been perfect, everything went wrong the day of my flight.  I’d broken the mirror off of my car while parking, forgotten my winter gloves, smashed my cell phone’s headset, and when I checked into the newly built hotel, depressingly located in a suburban shopping mall, record snow was falling.  I watched it come down as I tracked my lost luggage on a website that barely worked.

Starving, and too late for room service, I raided the mini fridge looking for jellybeans.  That’s where I found him.  Jack, wearing a teeny, tiny airport bottle.  After some quick hellos, I powered down my computer, took a long, warm shower, and from the comfort of my “heavenly bed”, sipped a pure shot of whiskey.  I sipped it slowly, and unflinchingly, from the bottle.  No glassware required.

For the rest of the week I enjoyed juices, punches, and the odd Christmas margarita, but that single shot had set the tone.  No matter how cold, or far away from home, I was a badass, and was going to be fine.

Thanksgiving dinner was a family affair this year.  My sister provided delicious experimental cheeses, my cousin threw down with me in the kitchen, and my boyfriend kept a stiff upper lip while my relations teased him about – well –everything.  It was a tough crowd, and we needed a cocktail that would pair well with food, football, and anger management.

I settled on Cornucopia Sangria, a cocktail recently published in the San Francisco Chronicle.  Written by Stacy Finz, this great article suggests holiday cocktails for every imaginable occasion. (Except maybe hating the holidays, which, I guess, is what whiskey and a dark room are for.)

Adapted from “Peterson’s Holiday Helper,” by Valerie Peterson, the Cornucopia calls for chopped whole cranberries, oranges, apples, and red Rioja (a deeply colored, medium bodied Spanish wine with hints of berry).   Macerate (which is a fancy way of saying marinate) the chopped fruit in triple sec for a bit, and then stir the Rioja and sparkling cider into the mix.

Cocktail notes:
*Add the sparkling cider slowly, and to taste.  Depending on the quality and flavor of the Rioja you are using, too much sparkling cider can dilute the flavors of the wine.

*Let the mixture sit for a while, the flavor becomes richer over time.

*Although, not traditionally part of a sangria recipe, for a cocktail with a little more body (and a lot more kick) try mixing in a touch of vodka — we added a little Grey Goose.  By the time dinner rolled around the turkey was a little on the dry side, but we weren’t.

This sangria is great for groups, daytime sipping, and helping you through holiday duties like present wrapping, cookie baking, and the hauling out of ornaments (or fighting about the hauling out of ornaments). Whatever happens in your house.

For the full SF Gate article on holiday cocktails, including the Cornucopia Sangria recipe, click here.

Today is the 75th anniversary of the death of the 18th Amendment, otherwise known as Prohibition, and celebrations are ringing out across the land.

But first some history:

Prohibition began on January 16, 1920, when at the stroke of midnight, all of America became a dry county.  The government’s intention was to end crime and drunkenness, but instead the 18th amendment crushed the country’s spirits industry, uprooted vineyards, and put the “organized” in organized crime.  To enjoy a sip of alcohol, formerly law abiding citizens turned to gangsters, smuggled it in from Canada, or made their own (with ingredients like turpentine no less).

Prohibition ushered in the birth of the dive bar and the death of mixology.  (Actually, mixology didn’t die — it’s like it pricked its finger on an enchanted FBI agent and fell into a deep dark sleep for decades.)  Bartenders like Harry Craddock (of Savoy Cocktail Book fame) and Fernand “Pete” Petiot (an architect of the Blood Mary), who had been lauded as artisans, became drug dealers overnight.  Suddenly making a gin and tonic didn’t just break the law, it violated the Constitution.  Drinking was forced into back rooms and basements as the country’s watering holes were shut down — and shut down hard.  To make a living top bartenders fled to Cuba or Europe (creating a pretty nifty cocktail culture in their wake).  The next time you have a Harvey Wallbanger in Paris, thank Prohibition.

Prohibition turned ordinary citizens into criminals for 13 years, and echos of that ill-fated amendment exist today in the form of “blue laws”.   Laws (usually socially or religiously motivated) that restrict the sale and consumption of alcohol.  Try to purchase beer before noon on Sunday (or any day in most of Utah) and you’ll see what I mean.  Seems that Americans still love righteousness and liquor in equal parts.  One can only hope that we’ve learned our lesson about making changes to the Constitution based on religious outrage….

Sorry — I just cracked myself up….

To celebrate Repeal Day:

At Home:

-Wine from California, Oregon, or Washington.
-Leopold’s Gin, small batches and American made
-Hudson Whiskey, New York’s first Post Prohibition Whiskey.

On the town:

New York
This city is chock full of bars infamous, famous, and old.  To me, this is the center of all things Prohibition. Click here for a list of the oldest bars in New York.

Chicago:
You can’t throw a bottle cap without finding a speakeasy in this city, but I recommend you head straight to The Green Mill.  One of Capone’s guys owned a stake in this place so it was open for business during most of the 20’s.  I used to live around the corner from this bar, and miss it more than you can say.  They can fit an entire jazz band on a stage that is the size of a small living room, and somehow there is still room for dancing.  If you go (and you must)sit at Capone’s table (the booth with its back to the wall, and a view of all the doors) and have a gimlet for me.

Los Angeles
The Golden Gopher has had an active liquor license since 1905.  It seems the Feds overlooked the liquor license for serving spirits to go when the confiscated the one in the bar…. Today they are celebrating Repeal day with 75-cent Dewar’s cocktails.

The Edison Downtown has a lovely celebration planned for this evening. It will include a batch of their own special Woodford Reserve Bourbon Mixture and a midnight toast to the Women’s Temperance League. Nice Touch.  Click here for my review of their cocktail hour.

New Orleans:
Well—as you can imagine—there are multiple bars celebrating this day.  Click here for an informative article, as well as a list of Nola watering holes.
Cheers.

Hot Toddy.  Hot Toddy.  Hot Toddy.  I defy you to say that several times quickly without smiling.

I love the name of this cocktail.  To me, a Hot Toddy conjures images of roaring fires, ski lodges, and Clarence (the angel from It’s a Wonderful Life).  Technically, Clarence orders a flaming rum punch in the movie, but I’m pretty sure (had he not been kicked out of the bar) a Toddy would have been next on his list.

Hot Toddies have been around since man discovered spirits could be consumed warm (so — five minutes after spirits were discovered at all – right?).  Typically brandy based, there are hundreds of variations on the classic recipe.

In the 1860’s Jerry Thomas, author, and mixologist extraordinaire, offers no fewer than seven examples of this cocktail.  In the Bon Vivant’s Companion, he gives brandy, whiskey, and gin all equal Toddy treatment.

While the Gin Toddy never caught on, Thomas’ Apple Toddy is worth a second look.  In addition to the traditional ingredients, his recipe calls for ¼ of a baked apple to be placed in the warmed cocktail.

Now, I don’t know if in baked apples were just hanging out in every kitchen and tavern in the 1860’s, but in 2008 that seems a long way to go for garnish.  (A garnish that requires patience, a pre-heated oven, and tons of butter.)

I traded the baked apple for apple cider, and came up with my own take on the Hot Apple Toddy:

Hot Apple Toddy
2 oz Brandy (rum or whiskey can be substituted)
1/2 oz honey
¼ lemon juice
1 cinnamon stick
1 or 2 whole cloves
Apple Cider
Boiling Water
Slice of apple garnish

While boiling water, gently warm the cider and cinnamon stick and cloves in a small pot.  Once it begins to steam (do not boil cider).  In a tall glass add brandy, lemon juice, and honey.  Once warmed, pour cider and spices over the brandy/honey mixture.  Top off with boiling water and stir.

The warm water cuts the sweetness of the juice, and the cider adds a comforting apple flavor to a traditionally simple cocktail (minus the oven, butter, and 45 minute cooking time).  But none of this is set in stone.  Play around with this recipe and find variations that work for you.

There are as many different uses for the Toddy as there are recipes.  Sip one as a festive winter cocktail, on a restless night let the Toddy lull you to sleep, or let it kick the ass of a tough winter cold (cause believe me, it will).  Hear that Clarence? It is a wonderful life.