As he passed me, I commented with mock indignance, “Poor Jane Withers, no one ever named a drink after her. It’s always Shirley, Shirley, Shirley.”

Which was exactly what was happening as I spoke the words. One Shirley, two Shirley, three Shirleys down…

So I resolved then and there to create a drink in Jane Withers’ honor to make up for nearly seven decades-worth of slight.

For those of you not well-versed in Depression-Era (the 1930′s version, not the present one) pop culture, Jane Withers gained fame as Shirley Temple’s nemesis in a film or two, most notably in Bright Eyes. Meaner, bigger, and less endearing, she was still entertaining enough to hold her own against Miss Temple. And if I have to explain to you who Shirley Temple is, I am going to cry.

Just watch and you’ll see what I mean:

When I got home, I thought about what to make and came up blank. Who even remembers Jane Withers anymore, except me, I mean? Should I just simply do a take-off of a Shirley Temple? Would I add bitters? Make it taller? I was frustrated. There is little pay-off in naming anything after a child who lived her early years in Miss Temple’s enormous career shadow.

I needed a drink.

And, suddenly, there was the answer. I decided then and there to forget all about Miss Withers and create an adult beverage in honor of the infinitely more famous Miss Temple. I know what you’re thinking– I’m a star-(expletive)er.

Well, I guess you’re right. I am a star-(expletive)er (never, mind you, in a literal sense). And why not? Shirley Temple the mega-child star transitioned successfully into adulthood as Shirley Temple Black– wife, mother, representative to the United Nations General Assembly (Nixon), the first female Chief of Protocol of the United States (Carter), and U.S. Ambassador to both Ghana (Ford) and Czechoslovakia (Bush the Elder). If anyone has earned a good, stiff drink, it is she.

Shirley Temple Black

The Shirley Temple is far-and-away the most popular “kiddie cocktail” in the world– fitting that it was named for the most popular child actor to have ever existed.

The original Shirley Temple drink was, as one rumor has it, created by a bartender at The Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Honolulu in the 1930′s– a place Miss Temple visited with her family many times.

It is a non-alcoholic beverage made with ginger ale or some sort of lemon-lime soda, grenadine syrup, a garnish of maraschino cherries and a slice of orange. The Canadians love to add a splash of orange juice, and so do I– it just makes the thing that much more wholesome, which is something Canadians know all about. After all, they did send us the original America’s Sweetheart, Mary Pickford. Miss Pickford, if you didn’t know, served as the hairstyle inspiration for Miss Temple. No Pickford, no Curly Top.

The whole notion of kiddie cocktails centers around their ability to allow children to participate somewhat benignly in adult cocktail culture– preparing them in a sense for their futures as alcohol-swigging grown-ups to whom they look up, both physically and morally.

Maybe they’re not so benign, after all.

The idea of the Shirley Temple Black is entirely upside down. It is a drink that allows me to mix and mingle with the wee ‘uns from time to time without having them point at my Manhattan and ask what’s in it. With an innocent-looking, yet boozy Shirley Temple Black, I can gently tone down those shrieks of bouncy castle delight, or steel myself for the twenty-seventh consecutive screening of Thomas the Tank Engine more or less unnoticed.

At the next children’s party I am obliged to attend, when the host or hostess asks me what I’m having, you know my answer’s going to be:

“I’ll have a Shirley Temple, and make it Black.”

Makes One Deceptive Little Cocktail

Ingredients

1 ounce white rum

1/2 ounce Maraschino liqueur

A splash of grenadine

A splash of fresh orange juice

Ginger Beer

Crushed ice

Orange zest or a slice of orange for garnish.

Preparation:

Fill a highball or double old fashioned glass with crushed ice. Pour in rum, maraschino liqueur, grenadine, and splash of orange juice. Fill to near the top, but not brimming (remember, there are children present whose motor skills aren’t yet finely tuned) with Ginger Beer and garnish with orange.

Drink immediately to bring your own motor skills closer the the level of the precious little ones.

Variation: The Jane Withers

Just like a Roy Rogers is the classic cola-based alter ego of a Shirley Temple, I felt the Shirley Temple Black was in need of a foil. Feeling guilty that I was turning away from the woman I had originally intended to honor, my friend Rebecca suggested this drink might be delicious with a slug of rye instead of rum.

Of course she would say that– her boyfriend is an amazing mixologist.

So here you go, Miss Withers– a drink created especially for you:

The Jane Withers

It’s kickier than a Shirley Temple Black, and guaranteed to unclog your pipes faster than Josephine the Plumber.

To make a Jane Withers, simply substitute rye for rum.

And we’re done. I hope everybody’s happy.

Good morning, brunchers! What’s in your glass? Let’s see: mimosa, mimosa, bloody Mary, screwdriver, mimosa, Calistoga with lime, bloody Mary, and just coffee for you, thanks.

Oh, has it come to this? Can we not break out of the orange-juice rut, spread our wings and flap a little, veer a little to the right or left in our quest for a morning pick-me-up that lets you down easy. Personally, I like to be able to recall my name and address (and yours) post-frittata, rather than ending up in the Jacuzzi at 5pm with three pairs of new shoes and no idea how I got there.

The LA Coffee Mill, très chic in Silverlake, does a very fabulous morning mojito, made with muddled mint and lime in a a base of chilled green tea, topped with a splash of soda water. It’s tangy and refreshing, very post-Pilates. But what if you want something a little more lush, a little more beignet-friendly? Welcome to your new favorite brunch drink: white peach Meyer lemonade.

Now Meyer lemons, which really should be growing in your backyard if you have one, and in your friends’ backyards if not, make the most flagrantly, fragrantly delicious lemonade.

But with white peaches and nectarines in full sugary swing now, you can one-up even Meyer lemonade by adding a little pale and luscious peach puree, turning your lemonade into a coral-colored quaff even better than a Bellini.

Anytime you buy white-fleshed stone fruit, you know a few of these dainty little princesses are going to get bruised on the way home. But hard knocks don’t matter to a puree. Pit your peaches and throw them in the blender or food processor. (Or just thwap the heck out of them with a potato masher.) Drip the puree through a fine-mesh strainer into your lemonade, so you get all the lovely tequila-sunrise color with none of the skin.

A very good trick, when you have the time, is to skin off all that aromatic rind and infuse it into a sugar-water syrup. Use this lemony-sweet syrup to sweeten fresh lemon juice to taste. Finish with just enough water, sparkling or still, to make it drinkable over ice.

Even better, try rubbing a few heads of fresh lavender into your sugar, or infuse the blossoms into your lemon-rind syrup. If you’re really lucky, all this—Meyer lemons, lavender, white peaches—could come from your own garden right now. Lavender white peach Meyer lemonade: effete, yes, but oh, oh, so good.

White Peach Lemonade

Ingredients:

2/3 cup water
1/3 cup sugar, or to taste
1 tablespoon lavender flowers, optional
1 tablespoon honey, or to taste
3 to 4 lemons
2 to 3 white peaches or nectarines, pitted and chopped
Water

Preparation:

1. Peel off the rind of your lemons in long strips. In a small saucepan over medium heat, dissolve sugar in water. When sugar is dissolved, add lemon rinds and lavender flowers, if using. Bring to a slow simmer and let bubble gently for 5 minutes.

2. Remove from heat and let cool. Meanwhile, juice your lemons. When syrup is cool, strain and add 3 tablespoons to lemon juice. (You can always add more later).

3. Puree peach chunks, honey, and lemon juice mixture in a food processor or blender. Pour through a fine-mesh strainer into a pitcher.

4. Add water until it’s dilute enough to drink. Add more honey or lemon syrup as needed. Serve over ice.

Now, the main problem with the gin and tonic mocktail is the complete lack of, well, gin, so it is key that the tonic be the shining star for once. Have I bludgeoned you to death with my opinions on tonic? Yes, I know I have, so I will skip all that, because you now KNOW that Fever-Tree is the only way to go, and head right to the gin conundrum.

Enter DRY Soda. Well, the DRY Sodas are a bit sweet for me to call myself a big fan, but that doesn’t mean I was against trying their newest juniper flavor as a gin stand-in. Nothing could be more simple than to measure out two ounces of Juniper DRY and mix it with Fever-Tree tonic and a wedge of lemon. (Or a lime if your intro to gin and tonics didn’t start in a British pub in the late 90s as mine did.)

The result? Well, maybe it’s a the taste equivalent of a placebo effect, but I was pretty damn happy with my faux gin and tonic. All I was after was something refreshing with a non-alcoholic edge to it, and the Fever-Tree tonic definitely provides that needed edge.

The only problem with this mocktail is that the lack of alcohol means I suck them down with abandon and then spend the rest of the night wearing down a path between the living room and the bathroom. Oh, well, at least I’m hydrating myself!

2 oz. Juniper Dry Soda
Fever-Tree tonic water
Lemon wedge, for garnish

Combine all ingredients over ice and enjoy.

I’ve tasted alcohol-free wines and beers. I’ve dabbled — with some success — in making mocktails and sipping sparkling teas. But now? I’ve found the world’s most perfect water.

I give you: Pink Grapefruit Perrier!

Grapefruit is my favorite citrus fruit. It’s also my favorite juice, favorite Izze, favorite Fizzy Lizzy, and favorite lip balm, so when I found grapefruit La Croix sparkling water in Minneapolis, it started a deep craving. Since I found it on the official site, I knew that grapefruit Perrier existed, but I never saw it in stores.

I must’ve been babbling about it a helluva lot, because the other night Mathra came home from Safeway and with great triumph and excitement voila’d six bottles of Pink Grapefruit Perrier. (Zee labelle, eet iz so so Franche and calls eet “Pamplemousse Rosé”)

“Ooooh!” I cooed, stroking the metallic pink label, “You found it!”

Is it weird to describe sparkling water as having a bouquet? Because this one totally does. Without verging into grandma’s perfume territory, it’s fresh and floral and not as fake smelling as the lemon or lime Perrier flavors. Ditto for the taste. The stringent grapefruit is refreshing, not at all cloying, and it’s simply…Perrier perfection. It’s the the ideal antidote to hauling 20 extra pounds around in 102° heat.

(For the record, I never found any Perrier flavor to smell or taste fake, but after Pamplemousse Rosé entered the picture, a deep disdain for poor lemon and lime was sadly cultivated.)

Safeway had 750 mL bottles on sale 4 for $10.00, and after downing 6 bottles in two days during the April Hellwave of 2009, we went back and cleaned out the rest of their stock.

I hope they take the hint and reorder.

It’s harder when it comes to wine and beer. My findings on near-beer will follow in another post, but first I tried to find a sub-in for my comforting glass of red Italian table wine with dinner. With that goal in mind, I bought a bottle of Ariel Cabernet Sauvignon, and threw in a bottle of Sutter Home’s Fre “sparkling wine beverage” for kicks.

Ariel Cabernet Sauvignon
I saddled my plate with wild mushroom ravioli in a homemade chorizo ragu and poured myself a glass of the CaberNOT Fauxvignon. The smell was promising, if a little weak, so I forked up a mouthful of pasta and paired it with the wine.

Yish.

Pros:
1. Having a selection of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Chardonnay (instead of just “red” or “white”) was enough to convince me Ariel knew what they were doing. So, kudos on that marketing scheme, Ariel.

2. Personal edification bonus points: I finally taste-experienced the definition of wine “structure.” More to the point, I now know what it means when there’s such a complete lack of structure that the only thing keeping the wine vertical is the stem of the glass. Call it the Joey Potter of wines.

Cons:
1. If you drank a glass of actual wine, then swirled water around in the same glass to catch all the dregs, and then drank that water, you’d have a very good idea of what Ariel CaberNOT Fauxvignon tastes like.

Fre Sparkling
I was all set to let loose with another scathing name and derogatorily dub this non-alcoholic sample “Shampagne,” but it’s actually really quite good. While called a “brut,” it’s actually slightly sweeter than a full alcohol brut would be, but it’s not sweet, either. Nor is it too washed out. Also, it has a fine and elegant mousse of bubbles, which makes it even more enjoyable as a champagne stand-in.

It puts me in mind of the heady days of my youth when Ann and Jane and I would traipse down to Milt’s Grocery on Lake Street and spend our allowance on bottle after bottle of Catawba juice. After this pleasant surprise, I’d be willing to try the rest of the Fre line.

Navarro Grape Juice
I do like the Navarro grape juices — made from their Pinot Noir and Gewurtztraminer grapes — but both offerings tend to be overwhelmingly, cloyingly, throat-chokingly sweet. A splash of tonic water or club soda with a squirt of lemon or lime vastly improves them for me.

I far prefer Navarro’s Verjus, because it’s way more intense and sour. It’s supposed to be used in cooking, I think, but I just chill it and drink it. The Verjus can also be cut with club soda or tonic water if you find the flavors too much for you. Plus, that sort of treatment really stretches the bottle in these financially tight times.

Though findable by the glass in local restaurants — Zuni and Nopa, for sure — in order to start your own juice cellar at home, you just might have to force yourself to drive up to the beautiful Anderson Valley and buy yourself a case. (If so, I recommend a night or two at the Sea Rock Inn. Affordable with views of the ocean from cozy cabins and a complimentary split of local wine in your room, this place is a very special retreat.)

Golden Star Sparkling Tea
Even before I was pregnant, I was singing the praises, extolling the virtues, and generally falling all over this sparkling non-alcoholic alternative:

“Let me tell you, I have never met such a beverage. Sparkling ciders — both grape and apple — have never been dry enough for me. They’re tasty and juicy but that’s what they really are: juice. The sweetness that overwhelms these teetotalling options is not found in the limpid depths of a perfectly chilled flute of Golden Star.

The uniquely refined sour flavor in Golden Star comes from the fermentation process, and though you might think the heady florals of jasmine might turn your tipple into Grandmother’s eau de cologne, but it really doesn’t. It’s simply a remarkably balanced glass. It’s simply a remarkable drink.”

Golden Star Tea is now available at Whole Foods in 750 mL bottles; it was my “champagne” over the holiday season.

Fizzy Lizzy Cranberry Juice
Of all the Fizzy Lizzy juices, the cranberry is the most wine-like. Tart to the point of having an almost fermented-tasting sourness, this has become my preferred tipple of an evening.

Vignette Wine Country Sodas
Effervescent and dry, they’re really not bad at all. Vignette offers Pinot Noir, Rose, and Chardonnay. The Chardonnay reminds me of pear cider and is my favorite of the three, thirst-quenching versions.

Sin Vino
Available in “Gold” and “Red,” these juices are only so-so. They’re overly syrupy, not very complex, and while they might make it into a mocktail, they don’t really do it for me in a glass on their own.

And even if you did prefer that, well, it’s just not me. Well, it’s not me now, but who knows what I’ll be like after the little parasite is born.

By the by, “parasite” is my husband’s word and before you get all pearl-clutchy or child protective services on me you have to understand two things: 1. he’s a mathematician and likes to get scientific, and it is scientifically correct to say the baby is a parasite; and 2. the tone of voice he uses when saying “parasite” is very much in the vein of “Awww, the widdle parasite is making you vewy crabby!”

ANYWAY, the day after I found out I was pregnant, I had to fake it. Drinking, that is. We had three pre-planned gauntlets to run: a wine tasting, a wedding, and a birthday bowling party.

What started as a fruitless search for apples in Gold Country (an early frost killed off a lot of the crop earlier in the year) ended in a wine tasting at our friend’s favorite local winery. Now all my friends know I adore wine, beer, and cocktails, so not wanting to raise inquisitive eyebrows and questions by opting out of the tasting completely, my husband and I shared our tasting with one another. While he actually tasted, I let the wine slap against my closed lips with nary a breach.

Apparently, we successfully fooled our friend — she told me months later that she completely believed me when I talked about the “earthy overtones” and “dark berry flavors” in her favorite Barbera — even though my husband was being way too obvious by staring at my mouth every time I took a “sip.” (It’s not that he didn’t trust me, he was just trying to see how I was doing it.)

A few weeks later, I was at a friend’s wedding and faced with a cocktail I created especially for the big day. This time, I upped my unbreachable lips game and added a glass swap with my husband. He’d gulp some of his cocktail, covertly hand me his half-full glass, and take possession of my totally full glass. Dinner was a sit-down affair with two wines. Inch by inch, I slid my full wine glasses toward my husband’s plate and grab for his half-drunk glasses. Needless to say, I was the designated driver that night, and again, I fooled everyone.

Finally, at mine and my husband’s birthday bowling party at Presidio Bowl — a place known for its extensive beer menu and me known for my extensive beer love — I performed the same party tricks but with far fewer opportunities for scrutiny. I just held the beer, put the beer down, walked away from the beer.

As much as I adored beer and wine and cocktails before my pregnancy, none of this faking it was that hard.

Why? Because my system was totally put off by the mere thought of any kind of booze. Later, my system upped the ante by making the smell of alcohol so unbearable that I even had my husband get rid of all leftovers from a Suppenküche dinner. The vinegar in the Salat mit Karotten, Kraut, Kartoffeln, Rote Beete und Kopfsalat smelled like an old German man was breathing on me after having seven beers and three schnapps, and I was having none of it.

It’s fascinating how your body protects you.

Next time: are there any palatable non-alcoholic wines out there? I do the research for you.