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.

I hesitated writing this post because Adesso is one of those places you don't necessarily want everyone to know about. I like it so much just the way it is: you can generally still find a seat, the bartenders still have a little time to chat, and the service is fantastic. But it's so good, in fact, that I can't help sharing, writing, raving.

Although the design and approach are quite different, Adesso is owned by the same folks who own adjacent beloved Italian restaurant, Dopo. Here, however, you'll find a more casual atmosphere with a real focus on salumi, pates, antipasti, piadinis, and expertly-crafted cocktails with housemade bitters and infused liquors. It's is a place to come mid-day for one of their few sandwiches--to sit and wile away an afternoon. A place where regulars are greeted and the pace slows, even on busy Piedmont Avenue in Oakland.

Adesso is also a place to come between the hours of 5 p.m.-6 p.m. or 11:00 p.m to 12:00 a.m. for their "Apertivo Hour." I've fallen in love with these times of the day. Truly. Reason #1: strong, smart, thoughtful cocktails. This goes a long way with me. My friend Danielle and I sat at the bar and had a chance to talk at great length with bartender Hanjiro Ambrose about the cocktail menu and the drinks he's created. I learned all about amaro and potato-based gins.

Drinks at Adesso

Danielle ordered the Provencale with lavender-infused gin, vermouth and cointreau. It was light and floral but not at all too syrupy or sweet. After telling Hanjiro I was into Bourbon and had lately really fallen for Aperol, he made me a cocktail with bourbon, Aperol, apricot liquor and bitters. It was incredible. He loves chatting with customers about what they like to drink or what they're curious about, and he'll custom-tailor cocktails just for you. For my second drink of the evening, I tried the Amari Cola on the regular menu which Hanjiro had concocted after hearing the story of the Coca Cola recipe on This American Life. He was inspired to put together a cocktail with a similar flavor profile and he's succeeded wildly with this blend of rye, cynar and ramazzotti amaro, grenadine, lemon, soda and a little mint. It's refreshing as a summer morning; go there. Try it.

Unlike most bars and restaurants, the cocktails and drinks aren't discounted during Apertivo Hour. However, the staff brings you small plates of foccaccia, salumi, salads, and pate to try. And this, my friends, is Reason #2 to fall hard for Adesso: free, incredible food. Danielle and I had the chance to sample the olive focaccia and the Ciccici pate which, as one of the bartenders said, is good they've all coined it "meat butter." It's made of pork shoulder which is reduced way down until it really is the consistency of butter. I actually don't generally love pates, but this was an exception.

Ciccioli at Adesso

Next our waiter brought out the squid and fennel salad: a fresh, summery dish-- the perfect balance to some of the saltier salumi. And of course, the piadina. This might have been my favorite, actually. The piadina is essentially a grilled flatbread and is quite popular as a casual on-the-go snack in Italy. The folks at Adesso roll the flatbread into more of a sandwich: ours had sausage and chiles and was just what we needed after a few strong cocktails.

Squid and Fennel Salad and Piadina during Apertivo Hour at Adesso

After having my half of the piadina, I realized the genius in bringing you out bites to try: you're going to want to order more. Sure, if you weren't starving, you could absolutely make a small meal of the spread, but we ended up ordering a Salumi Plate with our second cocktail that consisted of a billowy burrata, pate, and three different kinds of salumi with sliced bread.

By the time we looked up from our lovely plates and empty cocktail glasses, Adesso had filled up with just a few open seats remaining. The place was filled with a great, vibrant, laid-back energy with couples and friends meeting to catch up and to revel in the playful air of early-summer possibility. For me, much of that possibility lies in many more Apertivo Hours at Adesso. I'll see you there.

Adesso
4395 Piedmont Ave
(at the corner of Pleasant Valley Road)
Oakland, CA 94611
(510) 601-0305
Dining Hours: Mon-Wed. 5:00 p.m. – 12:00 a.m.; Thu-Sat. 5:00 p.m. – 1:00 a.m.
Happy Hour: Mon-Wed. 5-6pm and 10:30-11:30pm; Thur-Sat. 5-6pm and 11-12pm

Quick Cinco de Mayo quiz: Where is the margarita more popular, the United States or Mexico? If you guessed the U.S. you win. Margaritas are the number one cocktail ordered in the U.S. In Mexico, the Paloma-- a combination of grapefruit soda, tequila, salt and lime juice -- is the mixed-drink of choice. But north of the border, margaritas reign supreme and, as you might guess, there's no day where margaritas are served more in this country than Cinco de Mayo.

Cinco de Mayo is sort of an odd holiday. Contrary to popular belief, it is NOT Mexican Independence Day -- that takes place in September. No, Cinco de Mayo is simply the commemoration of a battle where the French were defeated in Puebla. In Mexico it is not an official holiday and Puebla is really the only place where the day is observed.

This is not to say you shouldn't celebrate yourself. After all, there's a solid American tradition of embracing other countries' holidays as an excuse for a good happy hour (think of St. Patrick's Day). Plus the weather is so nice in May and there are really no other good party holidays until Memorial Day (yes, there's Mother's Day, but that's really more about brunch). So if you're looking for an excuse to be festive, then today is the day to break out the chips and guacamole and make a nice pitcher of margaritas.

To learn more about this classic Mexican cocktail and tequila itself, I interviewed a couple of experts. Dave Karraker works for SKYY Spirits in San Francisco, which distributes both Cabo Wabo and Espolón Tequila (plus he's a friend of a friend), so I figured he'd be a good person to speak with. I also asked Julian Limon Nunez, a colleague of my husband's whose family owns the Tequila El Viejito distillery in Guadalajara Mexico, to tell me a little bit about tequila.

So here's a little primer on margaritas and tequila for your Cinco de Mayo holiday. Enjoy and remember to call a cab for any friends who are celebrating with you.

Agave tequilana (blue agave). Photo credit: Kurt Stüber courtesy of GNU Free Documentation License

What's the difference between the various types of tequila?
First of all, tequila must be produced in very specific regions of Mexico to be allowed the "tequila" designation. Just as you can't call a sparkling wine champagne if it's not made in the Champagne region of France, you cannot call a spirit tequila if it is not made in Jalisco or a few other designated areas in Mexico.

There are two main categories of tequila.
100% agave -- This is a spirit made entirely from the agave plant.
Mixto -- This is a mixture of agave plus other ingredients which include grain alcohols and/or sugar and food coloring. It must be at least 51% agave to qualify as tequila.

Both Julian and Dave suggest avoiding mixtos if for no other reason than mixed alcohols give you a hangover. Plus the flavor is more harsh and, quite honestly, not all that great. If you've ever had a tequila that made you swear you'd never drink it again, chances are it was a mixto.

There are five types of 100% agave tequila:

• Blanco (silver) -- This tequila is not aged after it's been distilled and has an earthy agave flavor.
• Reposado -- Aged between 2months to a year, reposado tequilas offer a smooth taste without a lot of bite.
• Joven (gold) -- This is a combination of blanco and reposado and is a great choice for mixed drinks.
• Añejo -- Aged between one and three years in oak barrels, this is a sipping tequila. Like a fine Scotch or other aged spirits, it has a refined taste that is best appreciated on its own.
• Extra Añejo -- Aged for three years or more in oak barrels, this tequila is the highest quality available.

Which tequila should you use to make margaritas?
Both Julian and Dave recommend using blanco, joven or reposado tequila for making margaritas. Blanco will give your margarita more of a true agave flavor while reposado is for those who want a smoother taste. Joven is a nice balance between the two.

Don't use añejo and extra añejo as they are too refined to mix with citrus or really anything else and should be appreciated on their own. Plus they're a lot more expensive so it's a bit of a waste to use as an ingredient for a mixed drink.

Why do people salt their margarita glass?
According to Dave, salt opens up the taste buds and the palate, which aids in the tasting experience. Julian thinks the salt neutralizes the sweetness of the cocktail. He says that a lot of Mexican desserts are sweet and salty (like tamarind confections), and salting something sweet is common in Mexico. Plus the salt nicely accompanies the agave and lime flavors and enhances the overall margarita experience.

When salting a margarita glass, be sure to run a lime around the edge to moisten the lip so the salt sticks. Salting your margarita glass is really a personal choice. And, if the salt bugs you, then leave it off.

Should you add other liquors to your margarita?
There are two ways to infuse sweetness into your margarita, adding an orange liquor or including agave nectar or syrup. A recipe using each method is provided below.

Triple sec, Cointreau and Grand Marnier are often used to add a sophisticated orange sweetener to margaritas. They are commonly added in restaurant and bar drinks because they provide a smooth balance to the lime; they also make the drink more expensive.

If you prefer a natural agave flavor, then you can simply use an agave syrup, which naturally sweetens the drink and heightens the agave flavor, adding a complexity that other sweeteners diminish.

Margarita Recipes

And now for the part you've been waiting for, the actual recipes so you can get down to celebrating. I've included two margarita recipes here. The first is a Classic Margarita. Recommended by Dave, who says it's the recipe that Tommy's uses, it forgoes the orange liquor and instead relies on agave syrup. With only tequila, lime and agave this is a purist's drink. The second recipe uses Cointreau for a sweeter more refined flavor. Both are a great way to celebrate the day.

Boozy Eggnog. Photo Credit: Kelly Carambula, Eat Make Read

Admit it. We've all been there. You want to do something different than champagne and you can't bear to look at another pomegranate cocktail. Where to turn? What to do? Well my family's a big drinking family around the holidays and between the five of us, lots of tipple research occurs. I wanted to share with you today a few recipes that are easy to throw together in a pinch. Perfect for unexpected company or those looming late night gift-wrapping marathons.

1) The Old Pal: How can you not love a drink that's named The Old Pal? And even better: it's a strong whiskey, Campari, Vermouth blend reminiscent of a Manhattan that takes less than 5 minutes to shake up. CHOW introduced us to it recently, and we've been enjoying them ever since. For a long night with the relatives, this is the one to turn to. Guaranteed to loosen everyone up.

2) Bourbon Gingersnap: Real Simple's Bourbon Gingersnap is the perfect warm-me-up cocktail for a night in at home. And there's something seemingly healthy about its blend of fresh juices, grated ginger, bourbon and honey that helps assuage the guilt of overimbibing.

3) Boozy Eggnog: Kelly Carambula's blog, Eat Make Read, is always a winning resource for fresh, seasonal cocktails (she posts a new one each Friday) and this past week she rocked the spiked eggnog. It's not quite homemade--it's really store-bought eggnog with a glug of whiskey and a few spices, but it's a busy time of year and this does the trick for me.

4) The Poinsettia: The Kitchn posted a simple holiday recipe for a champagne-based cocktail made with a little cranberry juice and Cointreau. It takes all of ten seconds to throw together, is pretty and festive, and has holiday written all over it.

5) Tea-Spiked Cocktails: Impress the neighbors this year with something a little new from Ready Made Magazine: a variety of great drinks made with tea. The La Valencia, made with lemon, chamomile-infused rye whiskey, and sherry is my personal favorite.

6) Blood Orange Punch: O.k., o.k., I turn to Martha not just for baking advice. She has mean cocktail ideas, too. And this year was no exception. We generally do some version of heavily-spiked punch at Thanksgiving because it works well for larger crowds and it's easy to manage. The Blood Orange punch appealed to the young and old this year: not too sweet and not too strong. When a punch is in order, this is a safe and delicious bet.

7) Vita Coca Crantini: Coconut Juice is all the rage these days and recently In Style Magazine decided to add a little vodka, frozen cranberries, and cranberry juice to the refreshing tropical juice and call it a day. The result is a martini that's almost creamy, bright, and crisp. I'd never thought about using coconut water as a mixer before stumbling upon this recipe, and now I'm hooked.

8) Hot Peppermint Patty: When you've had enough of the eggnog and fruity cocktails, sometimes a spiked hot chocolate is in order. And Bon Appetit's version is to die for: With whole milk, bittersweet chocolate and crème de cacao, it's the perfect indulgent drink for a rainy winter night. I love making these after dinner when friends are just sitting around chatting. We do them with a little whiskey or kahlua (or both).

9) Hot Toddy: You can't talk about spiked holiday cocktails without mentioning the Hot Toddy. That just wouldn't be right. And for those of you who have lived in states with real, bitter winters -- you know the magic of a Hot Toddy come February. But even here in the Bay Area, nothing sounds better to me on occasion, and Jamie Oliver's recipe is my favorite due to his addition of malt powder and real vanilla pods. This one takes a little more time, but it's absolutely worth it in the end. A keeper in my holiday cocktail arsenal.

10) Hot Mulled Spiked Cider: Elise's recipe for hot apple cider over at Simply Recipes is really quite perfect. She uses a blend of allspice berries, cloves, and cardamom pods. While I realize these aren't necessarily ingredients you have laying around the kitchen at all times, with a little pre-planning this cider is a special treat guests won't forget. Elise mentions adding rum, bourbon, or brandy to spike it. I also think Tuaca would be nice.

What did we miss? What are you favorite holiday cocktails that you enjoy and rely on year after year?

There's nothing I crave more than a steaming cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter's day. This is especially true during the holiday season, when cooking with whole milk and whipped cream seems de rigueur. Once November hits, I give up all hope for eating a low-fat diet until January. Between apple and pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving, eggnog in December, and all the cookies I'll eat at Christmas, what's the point in cutting back on calories?

But as long as we're indulging, why not throw in some adult libations as well? Of course there is the standard Peppermint Schnapps for a tried and true candy-cane flavored holiday aperitif, but what about some amaretto, Frangelico or whiskey to liven things up? Or, as Fred McMurray says in the classic Double Indemnity, "I wonder if a little rum would get this up on its feet?"

When making festive hot chocolate, think about your favorite holiday bonbons. Kirsch makes for a drink that mimics my favorite Christmas treat, chocolate-covered cherries, while Kahlua makes it taste like a coffee truffle. But it's your drink, so add in whatever liqueur or alcohol you'd like.

Some general guidelines when making hot chocolate are:
• It's best when made with old-school ingredients. Forget skim milk and packaged hot cocoa mixes (or even worse, a packet of Swiss Miss in a cup of hot water, God Forbid!). Real hot chocolate needs full fat milk, and if you're feeling really festive, some half and half or a bit of cream.
• Use dark chocolate. As you're adding in whole milk and cream, there's no need to use milk chocolate (even if that's your favorite) because the sugar and milk products you'll add will lighten and dilute anything you use.
• For a superior beverage use high-quality chocolate.

And speaking of good quality dark chocolate, we have some amazing local hot chocolate and cocoa choices, including:

• Ricchiutti -- Dark Hot Chocolate Pistoles
• Charles Chocolates -- Signature Hot Chocolate - Original Dark
• Williams-Sonoma – This store has a few products, but the one I've tried is a tin of their chocolate shavings, which is lovely. Williams-Sonoma Hot Chocolate
• Tcho -- Hot and Cold Drinking Chocolate

So now that it's December, it's time to curl up in a chair with a steamy cup of spiked hot chocolate. What will you add to your drink?

Spiked Hot Chocolate

Makes: 2 servings

Ingredients:

2 1/2 cups whole milk (or ½ whole milk and ½ half and half for a really rich beverage)
4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped or ½ cup your favorite chopped chocolate
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 oz liqueur or whiskey

Preparation:

1. Chop chocolate into small pieces.

2. Heat milk in a sauce pan on medium-low heat, being sure not to let it boil over.

3. There are two ways to melt the chocolate:

• Place the chocolate pieces in a metal bowl that will fit securely over your sauce pan. Reduce the heat for the milk to a low simmer and then place the bowl on top of the pan. Stir until the chocolate is melted.
• Place chocolate pieces in a microwavable bowl and microwave for 30 seconds. Stir chocolate to help distribute the heat. If chocolate has not thoroughly melted, heat for another 20 seconds and repeat until chocolate is melted through.

4. Add chocolate to the heated milk along with the sugar and vanilla extract and stir thoroughly to incorporate everything together. I like to use a whisk, which creates some froth.

5 Top with whipped cream.

6. Serve.

It was that rarest of all rare birds, a San Francisco summer day that started warm and stayed that way through sunset and into dusk. Indeed, last Wednesday evening was balmy as Brooklyn, a day for sundresses and sandals, popsicles and a tall cool drink after dark. Inside the dim environs of Bourbon & Branch, it was downright tropical, with a sweaty summer heat not even a couple of jumbo-sized fans could mitigate.

Still, no one at the launch party for Left Coast Libations: The Art of West Coast Bartending: 100 Original Cocktails was complaining. After months of miserable chilly fog, it was finally, finally tank-top weather, just for a night. Against a backdrop of flocked wallpaper, rows of books, and gleaming liquor bottles, Ted Munat and his co-author Michael Lazar were making the rounds of the room, showing off copies of their brand-new, self-published paen to the West Coast's most inventive bartenders.

Now a snappy, 160-page hardcover, the book started out as something more like a church cookbook, a little self-produced tome created by Munat and his brother Charles, with a handful of bartenders' bios alongside recipes for their favorite original creations. Munat, who blogs about cocktail culture at Le Mixeur, passed around the first version at Tales of the Cocktail, the boozy New Orleans celebration & cocktail conference. Naturally, the bartenders loved to read about themselves. The only problem was the recipes; while other pros could usually decipher the often cryptic instructions, the average guy with a shaker and a bag of ice wasn't going to get a good-tasting drink out of these jottings. Enter Michael Lazar, a high-tech guy turned cocktail obsessive, who jumped in to spend some 2 years testing and refining the recipes to make them workable even for amateurs.

Then again, this is definitely a bartenders' book for bartenders. As a snapshot of a particular moment in cocktail culture, it's invaluable. And in a few years, just like the outfits in Flashdance or the haircuts in Liquid Sky, it will be a cautionary tale, an artifact of a sleeve-gartered, molecular-mixology, pre-Prohibition-obsessed post-post modernism where bitters reigned, gin ruled, St. Germain elderflower liqueur flowed, no one ever asked for a Cosmo or a vodka tonic, and recipes for Smoked Cider Air, Basil Foam, and (yes, really) Smoked Ice were given with complete sincerity.

And then there's the Thomas Keller factor: just like hot-shot chefs, top-shelf bartenders often have the freedom (and budget) to ferret out obscure liquors and create labor-intensive, in-house garnishes and flavorings. A glossary with sourcing information would be very helpful; instead, if you don't already have bottles of Velvet Falernum and Amaro Montenegro in your cocktail cabinet, it can take a close reading of the notes attached to specific cocktail recipes to figure out what they are or how to find them.

However, for those wondering what cocktails tasted like before artificially colored, high-fructose corn-syruped mixtures took over, the back-of-the-book appendix is very useful, with recipes for all kinds of cool stuff from the basic (grenadine syrup, Earl Grey tea-infused gin) to the nifty (banana-flavored rum, agave ginger syrup, strawberry tequila, thai chili tincture) to the fancy-pants (maple syrup gastrique, saffron sharbat, pear foam).

The cocktails, photographed by Jenn Farrington, glow with promise. They all seem to be what Raymond Chandler describes as "the first quiet drink of the evening in a quiet bar -- that's wonderful," in his perfect LA noir, The Long Goodbye. (The same character later insists that, "A real gimlet is half gin and half Rose's Lime Juice and nothing else. They beat martinis hollow.")

The writing, well, it's bloggy. Every bartender is a star, and Munat uses every slangy superlative (and then some) to make sure the reader knows what fantastic craftsmen, artists, and all-around bon vivants/shy geniuses/supermentors these guys are. (And yes, they are almost all guys. Out of some 50 bartenders, only 6 are women, and 4 of them--Brooke Arthur, Jennfer Colliau, Christine D'Abrosca, and Jackie Patterson-- work in San Francisco.) How much you can take of this kind of hero worship may depend on how much of your happiness depends on getting that perfect Negroni, Corpse Reviver, or Blood and Sand.

Then again, those Saffron Sandalwood Sours were awfully good. Cheers to the West Coast, and may your mustache never lose its twirl, nor your sleeve garters their snap.

Saffron Sandalwood Sour. Photography © Jenn Farrington 2010

Saffron Sandalwood Sour
Created by Anu Apte of Seattle's Rob Roy. Recipe adapted from Left Coast Libations.

1 1/2 oz gin
1/2 oz lemon juice
1/2 oz lime juice
1/2 oz Saffron Sharbat (see below)
1 barspoon Angostura bitters
1 egg white
Sandalwood, for garnish

1. Using a cocktail shaker, dry shake all the ingredients except for the sandalwood.

2. Add ice and shake again. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

3. To garnish, sprinkle powdered sandalwood over the top of the drink. You can also grind sandalwood chips in a spice grinder, sifting the result through a fine strainer to lay a "dusting" over the top of the drink.

Saffron Sharbat
Makes enough for 16 cocktails, but keeps indefinitely. It can also be used to make a refreshing non-alcoholic drink with fresh lime juice and sparkling water.

1 tbsp boiling water
1/4 tsp saffron threads
1 1/4 cups water
2 cups sugar
1/4 cup rosewater

1. Crush saffron threads between your thumb and forefinger. Bring 1 tbsp water to a boil, the add saffron to the hot water. Let saffon steep for 15 minutes.

2. Mix 1 1/4 cups water and sugar in a small, heavy saucepan. Cook, stirring, over medium heat until sugar is dissolved.

3. Add rosewater and saffron mixture to sugar syrup.

4. Simmer over medium heat for five minutes.

5. Remove from heat and let cool. Transfer to a jar or plastic container and store, covered, in the refrigerator.

The San Francisco Launch Party for Left Coast Libations will be held at Heaven's Dog, 1148 Mission St, S.F. on Sept. 18th at 9pm.

I recently met up with my friend Fatemeh for brunch.

I had every intention of it being a long, lingering meal-- the type one anticipates when one is finally presented with a rare open day and the opportunity to spent a good chunk of it with someone one has known on the edges of his social circle, but has high hopes of getting to know better.

We ordered our food and a round of bacon-studded bloody marys, talking about mutual friends and sharing stories as we tried to figure out the best way to extract the fatty bits of pig from our drinks. The food was middling, but the conversation was excellent.

After we'd filled ourselves and I had given up fishing for identifiable pieces of food that had given up on life and drowned in my bowlful of gravy, we decided to order a second round of cocktails. Fatemeh considered her options and settled on a Ramos Fizz. I asked for a Death in The Afternoon.

The choice was simple, if indeed there was any choice involved at all. I was spending a Saturday afternoon with an interesting, beautiful woman. I was drinking cocktails. I wanted to appear louche, dissipated. Though I have never in my life felt especially Ernest Hemingway-ish, I felt that no other drink would do.

Given the name of the beverage I was consuming, it isn't surprising that our conversation turn to the subject of death and grieving.

As we shared about our families and our personal losses, I began to talk about my brother in a way that I had not allowed myself to do in a very long time: the illness, the denial of illness, the slow and painful wasting of his body in the last year and a half of his short life.

I'd fought against thinking of him in that way for years. I had always thought it would serve him better if I could remember him as the handsome, shy, quirky young man I'd worshipped as a boy-- the Douglas who shared his fetish for over-the-top, Technicolor MGM musicals with me, not the Douglas who sat in his darkened room alone, listening to tape recordings of the same films, avoiding the light that seemed to hurt his eyes.

But there, the middle of the afternoon, I was discussing the horrifying final act of his life. I wondered if our conversation could possibly take on a more upbeat tone after a talk of such loss- of fathers and brothers, of how different people approach coming to terms with that loss-- but it did. Fatemeh, it seems, is not only a serious and thoughtful woman, but possesses the wonderful gift of buoyancy that both I and my meal were currently lacking. She went down into the depths of my pain and somehow lifted me up out of it again.

As I walked home from our encounter, I thought about my brother and realized that it would have been his 49th birthday this weekend. I remembered all of those birthdays we'd shared and the sometimes frustrating sameness of them: the fudge-marbled birthday cake, my mother's Beef Stroganoff, his unwillingness to tear wrapping paper because it was so nice that he might want to use it himself.

And then I thought about my cocktail and how it lead me to my current state of mind. A Death in the Afternoon is made of champagne--the drink most closely associated with celebration, and absinthe-- the drink of forgetfulness. I thought it an odd combination; a conflict of emotions in a glass. And that damned drink had the opposite effect on me-- it lead to the dredging up of painful memories that I certainly didn't feel like celebrating. It is a drink that caused me to become acutely aware of what was absent from my life.

I made that connection when I came home and looked at the bottle of absinthe a friend of mine bought me for my own birthday last year. In large letters, there it was, just staring right at me:

I put the bottle down and noticed the nearby model of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang Doug had once given me. I then went into the bathroom and stared at his India ink drawing of a plus-sized woman sitting on the beach, reading a book called Les Femmes de Picasso, with a lobster approaching her with no small amount of menace and her feet buried neatly in the sand. He could never manage to draw feet.

I was comforted by the thought that, though he might no longer be physically present, he continued to exist in the details of both my apartment and my life. I decided that alone was worth celebrating. I took the bottle of good champagne I keep for emergencies out of my refrigerator, poured myself a glass, and bypassed the absinthe altogether. I sifted through my dvd collection and opted to watch, for the 147th time, Singin' in the Rain-- a film he (and countless film critics) deemed "possibly the greatest musical ever made."

I crawled into bed with my glass of champagne, got lost in two hours of Arthur Freed music, and quietly celebrated a person who I have deemed "possibly the greatest brother ever made."

He would have approved.

Death in the Afternoon

The name for this drink is derived from the title of the same name by Ernest Hemingway. It is he who, coincidentally, is credited with the creation of this cocktail for a book of drinks created by writers for the 1935 book So Red the Nose, or, Breath in the Afternoon. The recipe and instructions are Hemingway's own.

Makes one cocktail. However, I would advise you to make two of them at a time: one for you, one for a friend because one should not drink-- nor experience death-- alone.

Ingredients:

1 ½ ounces absinthe

4 ounces Brut champagne

Preparation:

Pour 1 jigger of absinthe into a champagne glass. Add iced champagne until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness. Drink three to five of these slowly."

I romanticize the South. I know I do it and I also know many others fall prey to thoughts of afternoon mint juleps, big willowy trees, and visions of a slower pace of life. Recently during one of my Craigslist property searches/obsessions, I ran across a little Craftsman house in Durham, North Carolina and fell in love. I called the realtor. I’ve never been to Durham and actually, I've never really been to the South (I hear Austin, TX doesn’t count). The house had sold. My coworkers rejoiced; they'd no longer have to listen to my sudden, out-of-left-field obsession with a town I'd never been to and a house I couldn't really afford. So here we are. Back to reality—and a great book by James Beard Cookbook of the Year winner, Joseph Dabney. The publisher contacted me to see if I'd be interested in checking it out, knowing that I have a fondness for Southern food and food history. After reading a brief description, I was sold. In The Food, Folklore and Art of Lowcountry Cooking, Dabney takes readers on a tour of the various regions of the Southern Lowcountry including Charleston, Beaufort, and Savannah. In this tour, he offers traditional recipes, first-hand history and lore, and stories from long-time residents and high-end chefs alike. This is, I'm guessing, a truly representative swath of a part of the country I can't wait to visit.

The book is organized into thematic chapters detailing the history of various cities and moving on to focus more specifically on infamous foods from the region like Hoppin' John, Goobers and Grits. The first chapter lays out the "big picture" and the mystique of the Lowcountry nicely. Dabney calls it "a different world," and describes coming to Charleston for the first time in the 1950's and experiencing culture shock. Many of the homes were elegant, the gardens lush, and the locals spoke in a much different-sounding dialect than the oft-recognized "twang" up North. Dabney proceeds to discuss the history of the dialect, explores the role of the rice plantations, and sheds light on the West Africa connection.

The inside pages of The Food, Folklore, and Art of Lowcountry Cooking

What I love about the book are the little interviews and profiles of real people discussing their towns, family histories, and connection to the Lowcountry. There is a true sense of pride and a love for place that is becoming rarer and rarer these days--something I certainly envy as a consistently transient, mostly urban dwelling gal with little lasting history in any one place. Much more narrative than traditional cookbook, this is a great read for folks who are interested in Southern culture, history, and language and how all three affect the foodways and traditions of the South. To be honest, I don't know that this is a book I would sit down and read cover to cover, but it is a nice one to pick up every so often and explore bit by bit.

The recipes, while quite varied, are split into logical categories such as Soups, Stews and Gumbos; The Glories of Chicken; and Wild Game in the Lowcountry. There are little tales to accompany each one, so you actually feel as though your great aunt is passing down an old church recipe or you're stumbling across your grandmother's accompanying notes. These traditional recipes have been served at church functions and picnics, and have graced many a casual wedding table. Each inclusion is almost more of a modern-day jewel or legend rather than your average run of the mill recipe. I'm so looking forward to trying the benne seed (sesame seed) biscuits, the different varieties of spoonbread, and their version of Southern banana pudding. But for now, for today, I need a drink.

Gathering my ingredients

There are many great cocktail recipes in Dabney's book but most of them appear to be pretty darn sweet to me. With rather large quantities of grenadine, sugar, and peach brandy I can feel a hangover coming on already. But at the same time, there's something extremely likeable about old Southern drinks. You can almost see yourself sitting on a wide open front porch in the afternoon without a care in the world. So after reading through the history and stories behind each of the Southern cocktails in the book, I created my own version of a Southern Rum Punch with just a little less sugar, some bubbly water for a summery kick, and a few sliced limes. Enjoy.

Two glasses of Sort-of Plantation Punch on a Friday afternoon

Sort-of Southern Punch
Inspired by: The Food, Folklore, and Art of Lowcountry Cooking

Makes: 4 cocktails

Ingredients
1 cup mango or pineapple juice, chilled
1 cup orange juice
1 1/2 cup dark rum
Juice from 2 limes (almost 1/4 cup)
1/2 cup sparkling water or club soda
1/2 cup brewed black tea

Method:
Mix all ingredients together in a pitcher. Stir vigorously a few times to combine the juices, teas and rum. Fill 4 glasses with ice and pour punch to the brim. Serve with lemon or lime wedges as garnish. Preferably on a patio.

The other night at work, I watched as a fellow server carried a tray of cocktails to one of his tables. On that tray were three beverages known as Shirley Temples.

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.

Bourbon & Blood Orange Punch

It all started with a G-chat…

Ali: Do you make punch ever?

Me: My punch knowledge is pretty limited. It's either from middle school (sherbet and ginger ale with random floating fruit) or college (a.k.a. Jungle Juice -- Kool Aide, grain alcohol, batches made in trash bags)...neither of which are particularly appealing.

Ali: Hahahahhaha. I have bad memories of Jungle Juice.

Me: I have no (clear) memories of Jungle Juice.

Ali: Good point. Can we bring anything for Saturday??

(Pause)

Me: Punch?!

And so, our limited experience with punch progressed from the unremarkable and nauseating, to the tasty and tasteful! The party punch was a knockout (har har) and guests were clamoring for a taste of the gorgeous hued elixir.

Fragrant blood oranges, lemon, and a touch of honey bring a floral, citrusy, sweetness to the mix without making it too syrupy sweet. And the warmth from the ginger adds just the right amount of spice and depth. Together, there couldn't be a better match to complement the Maker’s Mark.

What a great way to set the mood for a party. And have I mentioned how happy I am to have graduated from the Awkward Tween Punches and Blackout Punches of the past? This lip-smackingly good Bourbon & Blood Orange Punch should be called Grown & Sexy Punch.

Maker's Mark spike

Bourbon & Blood Orange Punch
Recipe by Ali LaRaia, A Date With Flavor, adapted from Martha Stewart Living Magazine, Dec 1996/Jan 1997

Serves: 12

Ingredients:
20 blood oranges, yielding about 3-4 cups juice
9 cups water
1 medium-sized ginger root (about 4 oz.), peeled and roughly chopped
¾ cup honey
½ cup lemon juice
2-2 ½ cups Maker's Mark

Ice Block:
3 lemons, thinly sliced in rings
3 blood oranges, thinly sliced in rings
Bottled or Distilled water

Garnish:
1 lemon, thinly sliced in rings
1 blood orange, thinly sliced in rings

Preparation:
To make the punch:
1. In a large pot add water, ginger, lemon juice, and honey and bring to a boil. Let simmer for 30 minutes until you can really smell the ginger. Remove from heat and let cool, then refrigerate.
2. Juice the blood oranges, then refrigerate.
3. Strain both liquids before using.

To make the ice block:
1. Take a large, round Tupperware container and fill half full with water. Add lemons and oranges which should bring the container to about 3/4 full.
2. Put in freezer until frozen, about 5 hours.

To assemble:
1. Run ice block under hot water to loosen, and place at the bottom of the punch bowl.
2. Add the ginger-lemon mixture, orange juice, and Maker's Mark.
3. Garnish with sliced fruit.
4. Get punch-drunk happy!