Given the whole pregnancy thing, I've been sourcing non-alcoholic alternatives to my usual alcoholic libations. Cocktails aren't too hard to fake with mocktails, because while you may miss the satisfying bite of the gin or the underlying sweetness of rum, at least you can still make it a tasty drink with high-end mixers, homemade syrups, fresh herbs, and fruit, right?

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.

So after the last Pregnant Pause post about food making me sick and now with this one being all about not drinking, you're probably asking, "Um, isn't this supposed to be a food blog?" It's a fair point, but I think you'd much rather read stuff like this instead of cooings about the purple unicorniness of pregnancy and how gestating is like sitting on a cloud of cotton candy. (Because it's not, and there are no unicorns, purple or otherwise.)

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.

Bar Drake, redux

One of the great things about living in San Francisco is that perfect pairings are available in all parts of town. Let me explain what I mean by this term: often, an evening out for me will involve dinner and drinks before or after at a location that is in the general vicinity of dinner. When the food and the drinks combine to make for a perfect dining experience, I consider this to be a "perfect pairing."

Some perfect pairings are across town. For instance, I happen to think that dinner at SPQR preceded by a drink at The Alembic is a perfect, if high maintenance, pairing. But that pairing usually involves a cab ride in between as The Alembic is in the Haight and SPQR is in Pacific Heights.

However, some pairings are not quite as far flung. And some have proven to be perfect time and again.

A new "perfect pairing" for me is close to Union Square and therefore perfect for entertaining out-of-town visitors who are already downtown and looking to meet for dinner. I've done it several times recently, and have complete confidence whenever meeting visitors and friends alike for this outing.

My perfect pairing suggestion is Bar Drake and Bar Crudo.

Bar Drake is a lovely bar that is located in the downstairs lobby of the Sir Francis Drake hotel. The drinks are delicious, the setting is intimate and usually pretty mellow, and the service is fantastic. Customers can choose to sit at the five-person bar, or can relax on couches and comfortable chairs throughout the lobby. I usually have the Bar Drake Manhattan that is made with Woodford Reserve Bourbon, Port, Angostura bitters and maple syrup and is served with delicious brandied cherries. If you'd like a snack, Bar Drake serves snacks and entrees from Scala's next door (where Top Chef 4 contestant Jen Biesty is the executive chef).

Bar Crudo is known throughout the San Francisco food community for its impeccable execution of raw fish. The restaurant almost exclusively serves fish, and only a very few dishes are cooked. In December, I placed Bar Crudo's arctic char on my "Top 10 Tastes" list, and a few of their other dishes could easily have been on that list as well. The dishes are inventive -- most recently I tried a yellowtail dish with lobster cream, vanilla salt, and licorice greens -- and are almost always delicious. I've taken visitors here with great success because the restaurant feels very San Francisco, and pleases anyone who likes raw fish.

Bar Crudo is a tiny restaurant with a small bar downstairs and a handful of tables upstairs. Because of this, reservations are highly recommended.

Bar Drake
in the Sir Francis Drake Hotel lobby
450 Powell (at Sutter)
415-395-8555

Bar Crudo
603 Bush Street (above the Stockton tunnel)
415-956-0396

I recently discovered the merits of the hot toddy. I started drinking them over the December holidays after I woke up one morning with a head cold and sore throat. Although I was skeptical that this centuries old hot drink would help me feel better than a regular cup of tea, I was happy to sip something a little different. I became a convert to its medicinal advantages, however, when after a few sips the rough soreness in my throat dissipated while warmth radiated throughout my body. I'm not kidding here. That hot toddy really did make me feel remarkably better.

The hot toddy was supposedly created when tea came to Scotland, and, as you might expect, the Scots felt the need to add a little of their mother's milk -- that is whisky -- to the brew. Since then, hot toddies have become synonymous with the idea of body-warming goodness on cold days. In addition to being hailed as a cold and flu remedy, hot toddies are said to also cure insomnia, which make sense to me.

Some people make hot toddies with tea, a sweetener, and lemon, along with whisky, brandy, bourbon, or rum. I like using either black tea or chamomile as I think the flavors nicely accent the drink, but you can really use any type of tea you like, or just leave it out all together. I've also made an alcohol free hot toddy for my daughters, which is an option if you're making the drink for children or prefer yours without alcohol.

And, speaking of the alcohol, I've been using brandy simply because the Scotch whisky I have on hand is expensive and so I want to enjoy it on its own. I also use brandy because it has a natural sweetness that lends itself nicely to honey and lemon in the drink. Whisky, however, is the historical choice, so if you have some and aren’t as stingy as I am, you should give it a try. Rum and bourbon are also an option, although I haven’t tried them.

So whether you're sick, can't fall asleep, or just chilly and in need of a warm drink that will exude heat throughout your body, a hot toddy may just do the trick.

Hot Toddy

Makes one cup

Ingredients:
1 cup hot tea
1 shot brandy, whisky, bourbon or rum
1 Tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 Tbsp honey

Preparation:
1. Make a cup of tea the way you like it (that is, strong or weak and with whatever type of tea leaves you like).
2. Stir in the alcohol, lemon juice and honey.
3. Enjoy

Related BAB Posts:
Drunkard, Heal Thyself
Starve a Fever, Feed a Cold

This Sunday marks the 250th anniversary of the birth of Scottish poet Robert Burns, a night beloved in the hearts of the Scots, but relatively unknown to most Americans. For those of you uninitiated in Burns Night, it is a celebration in honor of good ol' Rabbie Burns, and, in true Scottish style, it is bathed in whisky and delicious haggis, neeps, and tatties.

My Scottish husband and I have made it a quest to educate and initiate our friends into the hallowed Burns Night traditions. Last year, we hosted our first Burns Night, and to our great surprise nearly everyone we invited not only showed up, but embraced the event with open arms, trying on their best Scottish brogue and gobbling up the haggis we’d captured out in the wilds of Dixon, CA.

It goes like this, at least at our house: We steam some haggis--which is essentially a big stuffed sausage made from sheep offal, spices, and oats; way more delicious than it might sound--and we make big pots of mashed potatoes (the “tatties”) and smashed rutabagas (the “neeps”). Just before the haggis is brought out and skewered with a large knife, we read Rabbie Burns Address to a Haggis. All the while, the whisky is flowing.

Perhaps it doesn’t sound as fun as it actually ends up being, but then again, you might not have a friend like Traci, who takes a few whisky shots and takes over the room with her rolling Rrrrrrrrs and guttural brogue.

This year, being quite a monumental anniversary, we decided to (or actually, our friends demanded that we) host our 2nd Annual Burns Night. Once again, we drove out to Dixon for some house-made haggis. Although I have to say, after the nearly 5-hour journey, I’m apt to make it myself next year. And while the official night is Sunday January 25th, this year we’ll be celebrating ol’ Rabbie Burns 250th anniversary on Saturday, January 24th. So pull out a poem and read it in your best brogue, have a nip of whisky, and take a bite of sausage (or better yet, haggis!), and give a wee toast to a fabulous poet, who will be celebrated the world over, and at our little home away from Scotland house in San Francisco.

If you are itching to participate in Burns Night 2009, the main event here in SF happens at:
Edinburgh Castle
Saturday January 24 at 8pm, $10 at the door
950 Geary Street, San Francisco, CA
415.885.4074

For those of you out in the Valley, check out:
Canal Street Grille Robert Burns Night
Saturday, January 24th at 6:30pm
1225 Canal Blvd, Ripon, CA, 95366
209.599.4646

There has always been a special place in my heart for the Negroni. Not always. I stayed away from them in elementary school, naturally. I don't think I even tried my first until well into my twenties. And I'm not quite certain I liked it then.

But I liked the idea of the Negroni. It was and is a sophisticated, world-weary drink-- one with Italian origins and bitter complexity, yet remarkably, charmingly straight forward. It is not a drink that should be knocked back like whiskey, nor can it be co-opted or diluted with other ingredients and still be called by its proper name. It is the sum of its equal, co-dependent parts: gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari. It must be savored and considered.

If a person could model one's self after a cocktail, I knew that the Negroni was exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up, so I kept trying. So far, so good, and with minimal damage to my liver.

The Negroni doesn't have the wide appeal of the Martini or even the Manhattan, which is, in my case, precisely the point. It isn't necessarily an exclusive drink, but it does attract discriminating drinkers. They know who they are.

Or, at least, quickly find out who they are not.

For example, several years ago, some co-workers and I took a new server out one afternoon for a drink at a place around the corner from our restaurant. It was a warm day, so we decided to sit outside at some little tables on the sidewalk, have a smoke, and get to know our new little friend over a drink or two.

My friend Greg was managing that day, so he came around to have a chat and took our drink order while he was at it. We, all of us, called for Negronis. When he asked the new girl if she would like one as well, she spoke these precious words:

"Um, sure. I'll have a nigg--oni, too."

Then came the long, extremely uncomfortable silence made all the worse by the fact that she said this to a black man. If looks were hunting knives, she would have been flayed alive by everyone present. What made it all the more surprising was that she hadn't the slightest idea what she had just said. Greg generously attributed her utterance to poor Italian pronunciation, which is more than the rest of us allowed her.

And, after all that discomfort, she told us she didn't like her Negroni and sent it back to be replaced by a sweet, vodka-based drink. When she got up to use the restroom, one of our party re-christened her "Chili's" because he felt she might be much more at home working there than with us. The name stuck around for about as long as she did. That drink we bought her as a welcome ended up being her departing gift, too, since that's precisely what she did shortly after.

Apart from its cachet of clique, what I love most about the Negroni is that it is deliciously louche. It hints at danger and moral decay more precisely than any other drink, save Absinthe. Just ask Tennessee Williams. Or don't, since he's dead. Rather, watch Lotte Lenya*, Warren Beatty, and Vivien Leigh drink them in The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone and enjoy the ensuing destruction. They weren't exactly good for Mrs. Stone, nor were they especially good for Mr. Beatty's awful Italian accent, but they certainly helped to lubricate the plot. (*After searching for a video clip from the film, I stumbled upon an article by Toby Cecchini in the New York Times referring to Lotte Lenya as, well, louche. It must be true. For a wonderful description of the drink and its components, read the article Shaken And Stirred; Dressing Italian.)

There is a time and a place for the Negroni. Swank apartments at midnight, dimly lit trysting places at any time of day, on the sly in a toney sanitarium-- appropriate situations, all of them. Never, under any circumstances are they to be drunk over a quick lunch with your parents or-- and I speak from personal experience-- are they to be ordered in the jungle borderlands between Brazil and Argentina. Especially if there is a strong language barrier between you and the bartender who only knows caipirinhas. I don't care if there is a casino on the premises, it is to be avoided.

The Classic Negroni

The cocktail owes its name and its existence to one Count Camillo Negroni of Florence, Italy. According to Eric Felten's enjoyable read, How's Your Drink?, Negroni's preferred drink at the Caffé Casoni was the Americano, an admixture of Campari, Cinzano, and club soda. One day, he asked the bartender, Fosco Scarselli, to fortify his drink with gin. The cocktail was an unqualified success and its intake spread first around the city, then the world.

Ingredients:

Makes one Negroni

1 ounce good gin. Please do not stint.

1 ounce Cinzano Rosso vermouth

1 ounce Campari.

Ice cubes, preferably made from Italian spring water. Or tap, depending.

Orange peel or slice for garnish

Preparation:

Into a cocktail shaker, add all ingredients except the orange. Shake or stir, according to your own preference. Strain into chilled cocktail class. Garnish with orange.

Sit back, and enjoy the ensuing existential train wreck.

As an added bonus, while I'm on the topic of train wrecks, enjoy a clip from a famous television personality I would never in a million years expect to see drinking a Negroni. In my opinion, she doesn't get it quite right, just pouring everything over the rocks without proper mixing as she does. Then again, she does only have 30 minutes to make an entire meal.

Enjoy.

At first the thought completely grossed me out. Raw egg white in a cocktail? Disgusting. But then I started thinking about it. I eat raw eggs. In homemade mayo, garlicky aioli, meringue buttercream...and I've never had a problem with any of those. I also eat raw fish. Hell, I was scarfing down the sushi last night like no one's business.

Over the holidays, when we were in Portland, I was faced with a dilemma involving egg whites in a cocktail. Now, let me set the context here. We arrived in Portland just before Christmas during the Arctic Storm of the Century. "The Snownami!" my brother proclaimed. And lest you think I jest, we were all holed up together--my entire family including 3 very happy snow-romping dogs and 2 very pissed off cats--at my parent’s small but cozy house for 4 full days, unable to really drive much of anywhere. So by the fourth day, just after Christmas, when we'd all decided we could probably use a little stretching room, my husband and I whisked ourselves away to the Pearl District for a much-needed date night. After a good hour salivating over the hundreds of cookbooks at Powell's, we nipped across the street for happy hour at Ten01, a restaurant I'd heard made a damn good cocktail.

So there we were, at the bar and in need of a cocktail. After a few libations piqued my interest, and I found myself being indecisive, I asked the bartender what he'd suggest. "Oh, definitely the Celeraic, it's really good and interesting." Hrm. But what about the egg white? I'm not so sure of that. Is it slimy? I could just imagine it slithering down my throat. Blech. He assured me it wasn't like that. Based on their reputation, I decided to trust him. Every eye at the bar was on him when he was making my Celeraic, a bit of gin, some lemon, pineapple juice, the suspicious egg white, all topped off and finished with a spritz of bitters...

When he handed me the frothy chilled cocktail, served in a big martini glass, I was intrigued. This is not what I expected. It smelled like heaven. Tangy, lemony, herbal, with a big mound of thick froth on top. It was amazing. Incredible. One of the best cocktails I’ve ever had. I was completely sold.

When we returned to the Bay Area, I'd already made the decision to make another, much more well known, eggy cocktail for our New Orleans–themed New Year’s Eve party: The Ramos Gin Fizz. Now, the Celeraic as it turns out, is a bit of a riff on a Ramos Gin Fizz (a very classic cocktail invented in the 1880s in New Orleans), sharing the gin, of course, as well as the citrus, simple syrup and egg white.

In any case, here are my interpretations of these cocktails, for use when you get tired of going to the gym and dieting and trying to keep up with all those new year's resolutions.

An Interpretation of the Ten01 Celeraic

Ingredients:
2 ounces gin
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 ounce fresh pineapple juice
1 egg white
A splash of simple syrup
A spritz of celery root bitters (good luck finding these!)

Preparation:
Add all the ingredients except bitters to a shaker, without ice, and shake until your arms want to give out (at least a few minutes). Add ice and continue to shake until you want to cry (or another few minutes). Strain into a cocktail glass and spritz with the bitters.

An Interpretation of the Ramos Gin Fizz

Ingredients:
2 ounces gin (use the best-quality you can afford but nothing too strongly flavored, I used Hendrick’s which worked quite well)
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Juice of 1/2 lime
1 ounces simple syrup (depending on how sweet you like it)
1 large egg white
A few drops of orange flower water
A bit of cream (optional)
Soda water

Preparation:
Add all the ingredients to a shaker, without ice, and shake until your arms want to give out (at least a few minutes). Add ice and continue to shake until you want to cry (or another few minutes). Strain into a cocktail glass and top with soda water.

As much as I like to pretend to be a hard-ass, sarcastic, cynical little crab, movies can really do a number on my emotional system. For instance, Apollo 13 is so effective that whenever I feel the need for a good cry-out, I pop it in, knowing exactly when I can expect the cathartic tears to brim over.

(Of course, it's one of those things where it's not effective unless I watch the WHOLE movie. I can't just fast-forward to the scene where Tom Hanks' voice finally crackles through to Mission Control after over four minutes of silence and expect to feel the full impact of it all.)

It's no surprise that with the excessive amounts of cooking, cleaning, wrapping, and holiday stress that comes from missing family and friends, Christmas movies can really sock it to your emotional core. Give yourself a night off and huddle up with some classic homey movies, some comforting local take-out, and several boxes of Kleenexes.

A Christmas Story
Even though I have the whole thing on tape already, when TBS starts showing this on Christmas Eve for 24 hours straight, my television will be on the entire time. I never get tired of any little bit of it, but I especially love the snow scenes. Ever since I moved to California, the scenes of Ralphie waking up Christmas morning to a backyard coated in freshly fallen snow and the parents quietly closing out Christmas night with glasses of wine and another snowfall hit me hardest.

Christmas Story Take-Out Menu

Randy's Meatloaf and Mashed Potatoes: In my Midwestern opinion, the best Bay Area version of this homey food can be found at any of the Chow outposts. However, Blue Plate's version is also pretty tasty (if a bit salty), and I've recently learned that a Fra'mani meatloaf can be found at Costco?! Heavenly.

Just make sure you eat your meatloaf and mashed potatoes exactly like Randy: face first.

Chow delivery available through Waiters on Wheels, take-out available from the Church Street location. Blue Plate offers take-out.

Roast Turkey: In order to avoid any possible disastrous interactions with ravenous neighborhood dogs, swap the stress of a home-roasted turkey for Zuni Cafe's celebrated chicken and bread salad. (Frankly, we just had Thanksgiving, so aren't we a bit turkey'd out?) Zuni doesn't do take-out, but if you do what we do, it's just as good.

Go in, order a complete meal. Halfway through the meal, ask for the chicken and bread salad. At the end of the meal, profess to be too full for the chicken and bread salad, have their always-accommodating staff wrap up your spoils for you to bring home to your couch and TV. (It's the upgraded version of the two-fer we used pull at Olive Garden when I was a poor college student. We'd gorge ourselves on bottomless breadsticks and salad and then bring our entrees home. Two meals for the price of one!)

Peking Duck: I suggest you bypass the drama of having the poor thing decapitated at the table, so call up Ton Kiang for their conveniently pre-hacked version resplendent with crispy, lacquered skin and accompanied by soft puffy buns, plum sauce, and scallion brushes.

Ton Kiang delivers to some neighborhoods, otherwise do take-out

White Christmas
Ah, singing, dancing, and schmaltz! This Christmas classic is full of Rosemary Clooney, Bing Crosby, and my eternal favorite, Danny Kaye. Great songs, great gags, great dancing, and I challenge even the hardest-bittenest Grinch around not to sob when Vermont innkeeper General Waverley walks out to see his old troops standing at attention. (Criminy, I choked myself up there just by WRITING about it!)

Never in my life do I crave liverwurst sandwiches except when watching old movies that feature them (they play a role in White Christmas, Charade, and Spellbound), so for this movie menu, think about getting in a nice spread of deli sandwiches, some choice Vermont cheeses, and a cocktail or two.

White Christmas Take-Out Menu

Ham and Cheese on Rye, Liverwurst, and Turkey Sandwiches: Miller's East Coast Delicatessen on Polk and Clay is THE place for authentic deli treats. All the sandwiches Bing offered Rosemary, including the dream-inducing liverwurst, can be made fresh here and taken home to your television set.

Cabot Clothbound Cheddar: Created by Cabot but aged on spruce by Jasper Hill Farm, this cheddar is wonderfully sharp and rich. Look for it at Cowgirl Creamery's retail stores or the Cheese Board Collective in Berkeley.

Hot Buttered Cider-Rum
In the movie, Danny Kaye looks forward to having one of these before they get to their destination and discover Vermont is rather short of snow that year. This is a recipe my husband developed in Boston by piecing a few recipes together.

Makes: 1 cocktail

Ingredients:
1-2 oz dark rum
6 oz mulled cider
1 tsp unsalted butter
1 tsp brown sugar
Freshly grated nutmeg
Cinnamon stick, for garnish

Preparation:
Combine the rum and hot cider in a heatproof glass or mug. Stir in the sugar and float the butter on top. Grate the nutmeg over the top and garnish with a single cinnamon stick.

Waverly Place Echo
Not named for the general in the movie as far as I know, but fitting nonetheless, don't you think? This recipe comes from the December issue of Imbibe.

Makes: 1 cocktail

Ingredients:
1/4 oz Hangar One Mandarin Blossom Vodka
1/4 oz vodka
6 Chinese Five-Spice-marinated Mandarin orange segments
1 oz Meyer lemon juice
5 to 6 candied Meyer lemon peels
1/2 oz Chinese Five-Spice Syrup (recipe follows)
3 Kaffir lime leaves, cut into long chiffonade
3/4 oz seltzer
Ice cubes

Preparation:
Combine ingredients in a mixing glass. Stir, add ice, cover and shake a few times. Pour into a glass and serve.

To make the mandarin orange segments, simply peel and separate the segments of a mandarin, cover with Chinese Five-Spice syrup, and marinate for at least 15 minutes.

For candied Meyer lemon peel, add strips of zest from 1 Meyer lemon to 1/2 cup of boiling simple syrup, reduce heat to low and simmer 5 minutes. Remove from heat and cool to room temperature before using.

Chinese Five-Spice Syrup

Makes: 2 2/3 cups

Ingredients:
5 whole star anise
1 Tb fennel seed
1 3-inch stick cinnamon, broken up
1 tsp whole cloves
1 Tb Szechuan peppercorns
2-2/3 cup simple syrup (dissolve 2 2/3 cups granulated white sugar into 2 2/3 cups hot water and let cool)
2 tsp honey

Preparation:
Process all spices to a coarse powder in a spice or coffee grinder. Heat a stainless steel pot over medium heat and toast the spices. Once fragrant, add the simple syrup to the pan and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and add the honey. Simmer for 5 minutes, then remove from the heat. Let the mixture cool to room temperature and strain through a fine-mesh strainer. Will keep up to one month in the refrigerator.

Anyone who knows me well would be surprised to hear me recommending a Christmas book. I am a "bah humbug" type who tries desperately to escape the holiday each year. Not only do I not celebrate Christmas but I despise the crass commercialism, forced sentimentality, and find green and red to be the most distasteful color combination of all. But I am loving Elizabeth David's Christmas. It would seem David was a bit overwhelmed by the holiday as well, in part because her family had many birthdays right around Christmas. Her preference?

"If I had my way--and I shan't--my Christmas day eating and drinking would consist of an omelette, cold ham and a nice bottle of wine at lunchtime, and a smoked salmon sandwich with a glass of champagne on a tray in bed in the evening."

Doesn't that just say it all? Lovely, selfish and and anti-gorging is what she called her ideal version of the holiday. And while she didn't have it her way, her recipes and notes do fill a tidy volume, sadly compiled after her death. Spiced Quinces, Endive and Beetroot Salad, and Leeks with Red Wine are just a few of her tantalizing ideas. Don't expect a modern cookbook. Her recipes are bit like formulas, but I find them inspiring and even if I didn't, I'd want to read her prose because it's so brilliant. Don't miss the final essay, "Para Navidad" which is a lovely culinary travel piece and will instantly transport you to Spain. Of course, how recipes using fresh tomatoes and ripe apricots ended up in this book is anyone's guess, but enjoy it year round. There are notes for American cooks in the back of the book.

If Christmas in another place and time appeals to you, especially a Victorian London place and time, check out The Great Dickens Christmas Fair which runs weekends though December 21. Run by the creators of the Renaissance Faire, it's held at the Cow Palace and features hundreds of costumed players, colorful characters from literature and history, and winding lanes filled with shops, pubs, and food.

Tickets are $10 for children ages 5 – 11 (under 5 are free); $19 for students/seniors/military; and adults are $22 at the door. Discount tickets available.

Here's a drink from Elizabeth David's Christmas that sounds enticing, even for a Scrooge like me.

Regina Port Cocktail
According to David, "The cheaper kinds of port may be made into a good mixed drink for those who do not care for gin."

4 glasses tawny port
4 dashes orange bitters
1 teaspoon Angostura bitters
1 teaspoon Cointreau

Shake well with ice, in a cocktail shaker. Float a snippet of orange peel on top of each glass.

It's always an honor to be asked to be part of or contribute to a wedding, but it's even more flattering when your culinary skills are called upon for said wedding.

In October, Kim specifically requested I bring my "famous potato salad" to her post-Scotland wedding reception, and last weekend, Catherine, Jeff, and all of us wedding guests toasted their happiness with my Lady in Red at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel.

Over the summer, Catherine -- for whom I once designed a simple birthday cocktail to go along with her gift of St. Germain elderflower liqueur -- asked if I would shake up a special wedding cocktail. Her only request: it had to be red to match her dress.

After first assessing what the Mandarin Oriental stocked in their bar, I set about to concocting the cocktail. Aside from staining its cheeks crimson, I wanted this cocktail to be three things: seasonal, celebratory, and reflective of the bride's tastes. Well, not all of that happened.

Ignoring sangria and all other wine-based cocktails of that ilk, I knew that the red hue was going to come from cranberry or pomegranate juice (seasonal!), and after a few (read: nine) attempts, I ditched the cranberry juice. It was too easily diluted in both color and flavor. I also had to ditch my idea of including both bourbon and ginger ale in this cocktail (the bride's signature drink) because no matter what I did, the bourbon came out too...bourbon-y.

A few weeks later, I started with a whole new plan and a whole new red. Now working with the stronger, tarter pomegranate juice, I cried, "Eureka" after three passes and then set to refining the flavors.

Victorious and hung-over, I presented the recipe to the bride along with a list of potential names: Ruby Slipper, Scarlet 75 (the drink is an adaptation of the classic French 75), Red Letter Day, and Lady in Red. (She chose "Lady in Red," so if you now have Chris de Burgh in your head, it's not my fault.)

(Okay, maybe it is.)

On my reserve list of names was Study in Scarlet, Red-dy or Knot (my husband's contribution), The Red Menace, The Scarlet Letter, The Cat's Meow, My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose, and Redrum. (I will be saving that last one for a blood-soaked mojito or daiquiri in case Stephen King ever wants me to design a wedding cocktail for him.)

Lady in Red

2 oz. pomegranate juice
1 1/2 oz. gin
4 oz. ginger ale (preferably very spicy ginger ale)
Sparkling rosé
2-3 dashes Angostura bitters
Pomegranate seeds

Shake pomegranate juice and gin with ice; strain into a cocktail glass. Add ginger ale and top off with sparkling rose. Finish with bitters. Garnish with four pomegranate seeds for health, happiness, love, and laughter.

I am pleased and relieved to report that the drink was extremely well received. Even my French friend, who I thought preferred champagne to everything, was seen drinking more than one Lady in Red. Additionally, the bartender told someone else that he's seen a lot of guest-created cocktails pass through his shaker, but he had never seen one reordered so many times. Finally -- and most importantly -- the bride, the groom, and all my cocktailing friends loved it.

I hope you do, too.