Traditions are a funny thing. So many of us cling to them as a source of comfort, as a "it's the way we've always done things." And so many of them are lovely and wonderful and important. But the truth of the matter is: times change, people change, traditions should change a little too. There has to be a spaciousness to the routine of the holidays, to welcoming new members of the family, accommodating new tastes and needs, and keeping things fresh. On my own blog recently I discussed another wonderful food blog, Remedial Eating. In talking about her family’s Halloween this past year, writer Molly Hays said, “And that’s when I remembered the important thing about traditions, that they’re only as good as the happy they bring. And sometimes that looks like repeating what was. And sometimes that looks like forgetting all that.” I think acknowledging that certain routines are no longer working is the hardest part. Elevating the happy in lieu of the stone-cold tradition.

In my own family, ever since my parents divorced (many moons ago), both my Mom and my Dad made efforts to carve out traditions of their own that were unique to each household. For my Dad, this was Cookie Night. It took place the night of the 23rd every year and my two sisters and I would each choose a cookie recipe, supply an ingredient list and my Dad would pick up what we needed along with a slew of festive cookie tins. We'd set a time that worked for everyone and convene to get our baking on.

Well, Cookie Night became inconvenient after a few years so we switched gears to Cookie Day. When three recipes became overwhelming, we limited it to two. And then one. This year, we're not doing Cookie Day at all. Truthfully it just got old. No one really enjoyed it anymore but was too nervous to admit it to one another. Cookie Day had become a burden. We'll still see one another on that day, I'm sure we'll still eat our fair share of cookies, but we won't devote an entire day to making obligation tins that no one's all that excited about.

And so we come to cocktails. An odd transition in one sense but a perfectly logical one in another. We drink during the holidays at my house. For many reasons, some of which wouldn't be news to you, I'm sure. But really more out of celebration than anything. And we usually drink the same thing. Champagne on Christmas Eve. Spiked Cider on Christmas Day. It doesn't really change or waver. It's just what we've always done. Until this year. I'm introducing a new cocktail into the holiday line-up, one that I think will make everyone happy as it has a little bourbon (which my sisters love), apple cider (which my mom loves) and lemon and bitters which I love. It's a twist on a bourbon-based cocktail called The Stone Fence. Traditionally, The Stone Fence is made with either bourbon or rye and a splash of cider and soda water. Folks have dressed it up over the years with lemon, bitters, ginger, maple syrup, apple brandy, or a variety of spices. My version exists somewhere in between the traditional Stone Fence and the tarted up version. It's not at all too sweet, and the flavors are perfectly balanced yet nuanced.

While you may not do cocktails such during the holidays, let me encourage you to think about what would make everyone happy. What would make you happy? Because sometimes change can be a good, welcome thing. And if you ask me, change in the form of whiskey is always good. Happy drinking, cookie baking, and merry-making to you and yours!

The Stone Fence
Makes: 2 Cocktails

Ingredients:
1/2 cups hard apple cider
2 ounces bourbon or whiskey
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup seltzer
4 dashes bitters
2 cinnamon sticks, to garnish

Directions:
Combine the cider, whiskey, lemon juice, and bitters in a medium bowl. Divide among two of your favorite glasses and top off with seltzer water, add a few ice cubes, and give each a good stir. Garnish with cinnamon sticks, and serve right away.

Photos by Suzanne Husky/Walter Kim

Happy holidays! December has barely begun, but the icicle lights are twinkling from your neighbor's porch, your corner dive has roped the bar mirror with tinsel, and you can't dash into the supermarket for a quart of eggnog without drowning in the Destiny's Child version of "The Little Drummer Boy." Who wouldn't need a drink to get through to New Year's?

These long (and, until the solstice on the 23rd, getting longer) dark nights have one great solace: the hot toddy. Something hot, something sweet, something spiced, something strong: a winter warmer to toast you down to your toes. Such drinks can be made in quantity and set out in a slow-cooker (or crock pot) to stay warm, perfuming your whole house like holiday heaven. Certain ones, like the peppermint hot chocolate and bourbon cider described below, can be made non-alcoholic, with a bottle on the side so guests can spike to taste (or not).

The only drawback? These aren't wild and crazy drinks; a couple rounds of mulled wine and your guests will want only to snuggle up like kittens and take a nice cozy nap in front of the fire. Then again, a little cuddling might be just right at this time of year; why else the velvet pants, silk shirts, and cashmere sweaters, if not for a little negus-fueled petting? If it worked for Mrs. Fezziwig, it can work for you.

Mulled Wine
The reward for freezing through a damp, grey winter in Paris? Hot wine, known as vin chaud, served in small stemmed glasses topped with a slice of orange, aromatically steaming in every corner bar. Whether you call it mulled wine, vin chaud, or gluhwein, it boils down to the same thing: red wine, lightly sweetened and simmered gently with cinnamon, cloves, allspice, and lemon or orange peel, tastingly beautifully of winter.

A few tricks: always use fresh, whole spices (cinnamon sticks, whole allspice berries, whole cloves), since powdered spices can clump up and muddy the drink. (No reason to buy a fancy tin of "mulling spices" either; get them by the inexpensive bagful in the bulk department of your favorite grocery store and combine to taste at home.) Shave off thin curls of citrus peel, colored part only, without the bitter white pith. For the best flavor, make a simple syrup of 1 part water to 1 part sugar (or honey). Bring this to a simmer in a medium pot. When sugar is dissolved, add your spices and peels, and simmer gently for 10-15 minutes. Fill a larger pot with as much decent, robust red wine as you need. (Don't use sour stuff that's been sitting open on the counter for a week, and don't use 2-Buck Chuck; there's not enough sugar and cinnamon in the world to make that taste good.) Add the spice syrup and bring to just under a boil. Let it warm over low heat for 10-15 minutes. Taste for sweetness and balance. Serve topped with thin slices of orange or lemon. Peg each fruit slice with a few cloves.

Negus
A Regency-era drink that crops up in many 18th and 19th century novels, from Jane Austen's Mansfield Park and Charlotte Bronte's Wuthering Heights to Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. Basically, it's a variation on the mulled wine above, using a strong, sweet, fortified wine, usually port, instead regular red wine. The Beagle, a hot spot in New York City's East Village, makes theirs with Madeira (George Washington's favored tipple), updated with star anise. Typically, this would have been heated by plunging a hot poker into the drink. In a large, heavy pot, combine 1 bottle of ruby port or Madeira with sugar to taste (start with 1 1/2 tablespoons and add from there) and the rind and juice of one lemon, and 3 "stars" of star anise. Heat until steaming (but not boiling). Port packs a punch; you'll probably want to thin this with 1 cup very hot water. Taste for balance. Serve topped with thin slices of lemon.

Candy-Cane Hot Cocoa
Is this a cocktail or a dessert? If anyone goes caroling any more, this is the drink you want warming you up before and after all those choruses of Good King Wenceslas. At this time of year, it's also a fun after-meal alternative. By mid-December, everyone's been hitting the cookie parties pretty hard. Save yourself the time and butter and bring out steaming mugs of this for dessert instead. If you're not happy unless you have a kitchen project in hand, make homemade marshmallows; otherwise, just put out a bowl of fresh whipped cream (use Straus Family Creamery's organic cream in the fat little glass bottle: the best.)

Now, however much watery Swiss Miss out of the foil packet may inspire nostalgia for ice-rinks past, do not use cocoa mix to make this. You know what you need to make really delicious hot cocoa? Three things: milk, unsweetened cocoa powder, and sugar. You put these things in a pot. You heat them up. You whisk them around a little until they're smooth and steaming, and there! You did it.

If you want a very rich drink, you can make hot chocolate from (what else?) milk, cream, and chopped chocolate. But honestly, drinking this kind of chocolate can be like scarfing a whole handful of melted truffles. Delicious, yes, but packing a wallop. What you want for a party is a session drink, something you can sip by the mugful without going into cocoa-butter overload.

So, to make good hot cocoa, start with good, unsweetened cocoa powder; I like Droste, Valhrona, or Guittard. (Yes, Hershey's and Nestle's are cheaper and always available, but they're also bland as dust.) Whole milk makes the tastiest cocoa, but if you're using 1% or 2%, you can boost the flavor by using light-brown sugar instead of white. (Skim milk makes a flat-tasting, watery cocoa.) You can add a little grated semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate for richness, a splash of vanilla extract for extra flavor. If you must use a mix, Ghirardelli's sweet ground chocolate and cocoa is good, if a little oversweet for a grown-up beverage like this. And of course, those who don't imbibe can drink it straight; making it from scratch makes it good enough to drink with nothing more than a marshmallow or cool dollop of cream on top.

How to do it: In a large saucepan over medium heat, whisk together 1 cup water with 1 1/2 cups unsweetened cocoa powder and 1 1/4 cups sugar. Whisk vigorously until mixture boils and comes together into a hot-fudgey syrup. Whisk in 1 gallon regular milk. Heat until steaming (don't boil) and taste for sweetness, adding more sugar as necessary. Remove from heat. Add 2 teaspoons of vanilla extract. For non-alcoholic cocoa, add 1 tablespoon peppermint extract, or to taste. For spiked cocoa, add a few gluggs of peppermint schnapps, or just put out the bottle and let guests spike to taste. Pour into mugs and hang a mini-candy cane off the rim. Top with marshmallows or fresh whipped cream.

Bourbon Cider

Do you really need a recipe? Hot or cold apple cider, spiked with good bourbon. If you're serving it cold, add a dash of cinnamon to a saucerful of sugar. Run a halved orange around the rim of each glass, then dunk the rim in cinnamon sugar. Shake the cider and bourbon together (or just pour in and stir) and pour into the rimmed glass.

For mulled bourbon cider, warm up your cider until hot but not boiling. Add a handful of cinnamon sticks and a few peel-on, thin slices of orange. Do not let the cider boil! Pour into mugs and top up with bourbon to taste, putting a cinnamon stick in each mug. For best results, use fresh, refrigerated cider (I love the cider made by Rainbow Orchard in Camino, available at many local farmers' markets), not apple juice or jarred cider.

Wakeup Eggnog

Not every holiday cocktail needs to be warm. What this drink lacks in heat, it more than makes up for in richness. This is the cashmere of holiday drinks: lush, lavish, and posh. Now, egg nog, like fruitcake, has a bad reputation, mostly because the cheap stuff you find in the supermarket is just awful, full of fake flavorings and gunky thickeners. Read the ingredients and you will, rightfully, recoil. You have two options for good nog: make it yourself--not so hard if you've ever made custard--using this eggnog recipe, or Anna Thomas's eggnog recipe, a favorite of erotica writer and cultural critic Susie Bright. Or, buy a few quarts of the pale, lovely, elegant eggnog made by Straus Family Creamery. The ingredients are what you'd use at home: milk, cream, eggs, sugar, nutmeg, all organic, and nothing else.

Whichever recipe you choose, make it with half the amount of rum, bourbon, or whiskey called for, substituting a coffee liqueur like Kahlua for the other half. (Or just put out the Kahlua bottle alongside the bowl and let guests add to taste.) It's the perfect holiday pick-me-up; while the milk, cream, and alcohol relaxes you, the caffeine and sugar perk you up. This is the kind of brunch drink that seems like a great idea at the time, but be warned: it can flatten your guests for the rest of the day. But if you ever needed an excuse for an all-day Christmas movie-marathon ("Herbie doesn't like to make toys!"), a generous supply of this eggnog will supply it. Cheers!

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

If you know me, you know I have a taste for whisky. My palate is slowly (ever so slowly and with much repetitive training) being refined and, more and more, I'm learning what I like and what I don't like. I have an affinity for Scotch, particularly two distilleries from the lowlands (Glenkinchie and Auchentoshan) and a few Highland and Speyside gems. I haven't, however, quite found my love for American whiskey...yet. But times, they are a-changing (I think there could be flirtatious tendencies buried deep down).

Before I get into that though, I think it's important to make sure we are all on the same page. Whisky or whiskey, however you choose to spell it, includes Scotch, bourbon, rye, and Irish whiskey. It can be made with all kinds of grains, from barley to corn to rye, and aged under a whole variety of different circumstances, but always in wood.

Anything labeled Scotch has to be distilled in Scotland and aged a minimum of 3 years in oak casks. Most single malts are aged 8 to 10 years, which means that you have to guess what the market is going to be doing, and what people are going to be into, 10 years before it actually happens.

Bourbon, rye, and corn whiskey are all American whiskeys. They each have different regulations. Bourbon must be made with a minimum of 51% corn and aged in new American charred oak barrels; rye must be at least 51% rye; and corn whiskey must be made with at least 80% corn mash. As far as I can tell there are no aging regulations, which means that American producers can do some really interesting things, and have a lot more freedom to react to the market. Add that to the fact that there is a less rigid expectation of what American whiskey is anyway, and people here are more open to trying different things (in my Scottish husband's opinion anyway).

Last weekend I had the opportunity to sample the wares of two new artisan distillers: Tuthilltown, based in upstate New York and High West, which is based in up-and-coming Park City, Utah.

Tuthilltown
Tuthilltown's variety of spirits and beautifully packaged bottles (which look like apothecary bottles that are sealed with a big dollop of wax) beg you to pull one off the shelf. Founded in 2003 by Ralph Erenzo and Brian Lee, the artisan distillery is the first in New York since prohibition.

Their Old Gristmill Corn Whiskey is basically what I would consider moonshine, an unaged bourbon made with 100% corn. The difference is that this has been distilled for flavor rather than strength. This ain't no firewater, it's smooth as a baby's butt, crystal clear and clean with a distinctive corny flavor.

This same corn whiskey is the foundation for Hudson Baby Bourbon which is matured for 4 months in small, charred new American oak barrels (perhaps quarter casks?). The smaller the barrel the more the whiskey comes in contact with the wood, giving it the character of the barrel. This tasted woody, smoky, had more of an edge. Surprisingly, it was not nearly as smooth as the raw whiskey, and had a very deep color, like burnt amber.

My favorite had to be the Hudson Four Grain Bourbon. This one, made with corn, rye, wheat and malted barley, had more depth and character than the Baby Bourbon. It was sweet and smooth.

High West
Ok, yum. I think rye whiskey, and perhaps even more specifically, High West's rye whiskey could be my turning point to actually liking something other than Scotch.

High West is brand-spankin-new. They have one whiskey, the rye, and one vodka. The distillery was started by a Californian named David Perkins, who is actually a chemist by training. The distillery, along with a tasting saloon, is based in historic buildings right on the main street of Park City. So if you're in the chair lift line and the line gets backed up into town, you end up standing right in front of the windows and watching the distillery operate.

Their Rendezvous Rye Whiskey is non-chill filtered, and it's really smooth with a bit of spice and honey. I highly recommend it.

Currently, it's really hard to get either of these brands unless you are in their state of origin. But the folks at Tuthilltown promised that we'd be able to find their gorgeous little bottles at The Jug Shop in San Francisco by mid-summer. And apparently K&L Wine Merchants just picked up High West and will be carrying their wares soon. I'm keeping my eyes out for both of them.