Category: Drink

The stem of a glass — a wine glass, a Champagne flute or a martini glass — is there to help you keep your drink at the proper temperature. Glass is an excellent thermal insulator, and if you hold your glass by the stem very little of the heat from your hands will travel up to the drink, so it will stay cool longer.

Which is very useful for drinks that you want to drink very, very cold, like a sidecar.

Rhubarb Sidecar

Rhubarb Syrup

Rhubarb, chopped and frozen

An equal amount of granulated sugar, by weight

The juice of half a lemon

Sidecar

2 ounces cognac

1 ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice

¾ ounce rhubarb syrup

Cook frozen chopped rhubarb and sugar over medium heat, stirring occasionally. By freezing the rhubarb, you have caused jagged crystals of ice to form and puncture most of the cell walls in the rhubarb. The sugar is emotionally needy and draws the juice from the rhubarb and bonds with it. It is unclear how the rhubarb feels about this, but it doesn’t really have any choice in the matter, because under heat the sugar is drawn into solution in its juice with a happy sigh. If you want to encourage this chemical matchmaking, you can use a potato masher to hurry the process along.

Bring the mixture to a boil, and wait a few seconds longer to make sure all the sugar has completely dissolved. Remove from heat, add the lemon juice to the mixture, then strain it with a fine-mesh strainer. Leave it to cool. (Don’t throw away the rhubarb solids; they are delicious.)

Wrap a double-handful of ice in a tea towel and beat it vigorously with something heavy (I use the pestle from my largest mortar and pestle, but a meat tenderizer or the bottom of a small pot will work well, too). When you have crushed your ice, fill a martini glass with it and set it aside for five minutes or so to chill. This will give you time to squeeze the lemon juice for the cocktail — unless you’ve got a particularly selfless one that gives generously of itself, this will probably take a whole lemon’s worth.

Combine the cognac, lemon juice and your now-cool rhubarb syrup (cool in a temperature sense; the mere fact that you are making this cocktail makes you cool in a social sense) over ice in a cocktail shaker. Shake extra-thoroughly; you want this cocktail to be colder than a penguin pawnbroker’s heart.

Dump the ice out of the martini glass; you’ve left it in until the last possible instant, to make sure the glass is as cold as possible. Strain the cocktail into it, with a hum of satisfaction at its color, a pinkish shade of apricot, like a bolt of silk in a hidden corner of a Turkish bazar. Find someplace quiet and comfortable — a screened-in porch, perhaps — and sip the drink while thinking about that time at that party when you were actually witty and attractive.

A sidecar is a classic cocktail in the same family as margaritas, whiskey sours and gimlets: a healthy belt of liquor, some sort of citrus juice and something sweet. In this case the brandy works really well with the fruitiness of the homemade rhubarb syrup. Rhubarb’s tartness plays well off the lemon juice. When a sidecar is skull-shrinkingly cold, the cognac takes a leading role in the taste, as it slowly warms up — because you’ve remembered to hold your glass by the stem — and the more delicate fruity flavors become a little more pronounced.

A sidecar is much like many of us, who start out cold and sharp but mellow out a little with age.

Featured Photo: Rhubarb Sidecar. Photo by John Fladd.

There are two issues that need to be addressed right off the bat:

(1) Watermelon really, really seems like it should be spelled with two Ls. It’s just weird. Similarly, sherbet only has one R. (If you listen to a British person pronounce it, they do say “shuh-bet,” though it turns out that they aren’t talking about the same thing; their “sherbet” is flavored sugar powder, the type you find in Pixie Stix.) Every one of us grew up saying “Sher-Bert” and I’m willing to fight anyone who tries to correct me.

(2) How do you pick a decent watermelon? Ideally, you buy it at a farm stand and ask the person on the other side of the table to pick one for you. But if you are on your own in the produce department of a supermarket, look for one that has a dramatic pale spot on one side, where it lay on the dirt as it was growing. The sun never got to that spot, so it never greened up. Also, look for wide stripes, hopefully with two fingers-width between them. After that, just buy a lot of melons until you figure out which ones taste good to you.

Watermelon Sherbet
(See? Now that you’ve noticed it, doesn’t that just seem wrong?)

• 1 quart (32 ounces, 950 ml) watermelon juice – from about half a medium-sized watermelon (see below)
• a pinch of kosher or coarse sea salt
• 1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
• 1/3 cup fresh squeezed lime juice (about three limes’ worth)

Cut your melon in half and scoop out just over a quart of flesh with an ice cream scoop. This is another case where a kitchen scale will be useful. Put your blender jar on the scale, tare (zero) it out, then transfer 35 ounces, or 1,000 grams, into the jar.

Blend the watermelon, slowly at first, then more vigorously, until it is completely liquified. Strain it through a fine mesh strainer, and you will be left with about a quart of juice.

Return the juice to the blender, and add the other ingredients. Blend it thoroughly a second time, then put it in the refrigerator to chill for a few hours. If you don’t have an ice cream machine, pour the sherbet base into a sealed plastic bag, and freeze it solid, and send it on another trip through your blender or food processor.

Churn the sherbet base in your ice cream machine, according to manufacturer’s instructions, then when it has reached soft-serve consistency transfer it to freezing containers — 1-pint, plastic takeout containers are great for this. Freeze for a couple of hours to firm up.

The sherbet is a bit of a revelation. It has a mellow, not-too-sweet watermelon flavor. The limes — which, let’s face it, will enhance any other fruit — brighten it up and make it taste exceptionally refreshing.

t he should have.

Featured Photo: Photo by John Fladd.

The first time I had my bicycle stolen was in the Army, when a platoonmate of mine with a drug problem “borrowed” most of my stuff while I was in the field — including my bike — and thoughtfully stored it for me at a pawn shop just off-base. Later, after my effects had been retrieved, he made a big deal of telling everyone what a gentleman I was. I think he was happy I didn’t punch him in my face, but you’d think I was David Niven.

A year or so later, now out of the Army, I rode the same bike to the dining hall of the school I was enrolled in and popped in to grab some breakfast, only to find that I’d forgotten about the switch to Daylight Savings Time and had missed breakfast. I came out to discover that I’d also forgotten to lock my bike up, and it had taken the opportunity to start a new life with somebody else. I indulged in some non-Nivenish language.

The third time I had a bike stolen, I did not forget to lock it up, and only the front wheel was taken. I wasn’t sure why, until I considered the possibility that perhaps someone had stolen the thief’s front wheel, to replace the one that a third person in this train of wheel abduction had taken from them, etc., stretching back to sometime in the ’70s when somebody broke their front wheel by absentmindedly driving into an open manhole or something. I tried unsuccessfully to display some David Niven-like aplomb, but did decide to end the chain of front-wheel abscondtion.

All of which has nothing much to do with anything, except that this week’s cocktail is a classic take on a Negroni called a Bicycle Thief.

Bicycle Thief

• 1 ounce gin – Wiggly Bridge is a good choice
• 1 ounce Campari
• 1½ ounce unsweetened grapefruit juice
• ½ ounce fresh-squeezed lemon juice
• ¾ ounce simple syrup
• club soda to top
• an orange slice for garnish

Combine the gin, Campari, juices and simple syrup over ice in a cocktail shaker.

Ask your digital assistant to play “Tale of Brave Ulysses” by Cream. Granted, this song is neither Italian nor bicycle-themed. It is, however, slightly psychedelic and dreamy. It tells a story of being in a situation beyond your control, where everything is delightful and nobody would think of stealing your bike. The rhythm of this song isn’t particularly conducive to shaking a cocktail, but it evokes the right mood for imagining yourself as the protagonist of a really good story.

Regardless of what Cream tells you, shake your cocktail thoroughly, until the ice just starts to break up.

Pour the drink, ice and all, into a tall glass. A Collins glass would work well for this, but personal experience has shown me that the Foghorn Leghorn promotional glass I rescued from a flea market last summer works equally well.

Top with club soda. How much is a personal judgment call. You might have had a day that calls for extra bubbles and a lighter hand on the “Full Speed Ahead” lever. You might just want something a little less frivolous. It’s up to you.

Stir it gently, and garnish with an orange slice. It might be tempting to slice the wheel of orange halfway through and slip it over the edge of your glass — and that’s fine! a classic! — but you might want to roll it and shove it into the interior of your glass instead. It will make even a Foghorn Leghorn glass look slightly fancy.

The reason you can get away with a whimsical glass is because a Bicycle Thief is a fully mature, confident drink. It’s not intense and “I will have my revenge for my stolen bicycle”-y, but coolly sophisticated, in a “Should we have Carlos bring the boat around?” vein. Campari and grapefruit share a bitterness that gets a backbone from the gin. The lemon and syrup are fruity enough to blunt the bitterness, but still leave it at an adult level.

I don’t know if David Niven ever drank this, but he should have.

Featured Photo: Photo by John Fladd.

Sometimes something is perfectly fine on a small scale, but all in all just Too Much — saunas, triplets, you get it.

This classic cocktail is Just Enough.

Magnolia Maiden

• 1½ ounce bourbon
• 1½ ounce orange liqueur – Grand Marnier or Orange Curacao
• 1/3 ounce simple syrup (see below)
• splash (about 1 ounce) plain seltzer or club soda

Combine bourbon, orange liqueur and simple syrup over ice in a cocktail shaker. There are several types of shakers, but I like something called a Boston shaker. It consists of two cups, one large and one smaller. When you’ve added everything you want to shake to the large cup, turn the little one upside-down and wedge it into the big one. This will create an airtight seal and allow you to shake a drink without it making a break for freedom and drenching your kitchen with bourbon.

Shake the cocktail thoroughly. When the mystic voice of the cocktail lets you know that it is ready (or when you feel the ice start to break up inside the shaker) break the seal on the shaker. As you’ve chilled the cocktail, you’ve also chilled the air inside the shaker, which has contracted, tightening the already air-tight seal.

Strain the cocktail over fresh ice in a rocks glass. If you’re using a Boston shaker, pull the two halves apart slightly, making a shallow V shape. Your drink will pour out, leaving the ice behind. “There, there,” you can say to the shaker, “doesn’t that feel better?”

Top it off with a generous splash of club soda, and stir gently.

The only thing about this drink that is too much is its name. The bourbon isn’t too bourbony. The orange liqueur isn’t too sweet. It is neither too flat nor too bubbly. It tastes like something a relaxed person would drink.

Simple syrup

Drink recipes throw around the term “simple syrup” like everyone knows what that means. It’s one of those phrases like “slip differential” or “antioxidant” that everyone pretends to understand, but I think a surprising percentage of people don’t.

Have you ever added a packet of natural sugar to an iced coffee, and some of it ends up in a little pile at the bottom of the cup? Simple syrup is sugar that has been put into a solution with water, so that won’t happen to your cocktails.

The reason it is called “simple syrup” is that it consists of equal amounts of water and sugar; there is no recipe to memorize. Add equal amounts of white, granulated sugar and water — this can be by weight, or by volume — to a saucepan. Bring it to a boil on your stove, at whatever temperature you want, stirring occasionally. Let it boil for a few seconds to make sure all the sugar has gone into solution; then remove it from heat, let it cool, and store it in your refrigerator indefinitely. Don’t worry about it getting lonely; it’s very approachable and will make friends with your condiments quickly.

Featured Photo: Photo by John Fladd.

I have a friend who is an identical twin. During the Covid lockdown, she and her sister both had babies. Each of them would visit each other fairly frequently, but because they were being really cautious with newborns in their houses, the visiting sister would stand on the porch fully masked. They would each wave to the inside baby, and the babies, assuming this was just how things worked, would wave back at the lumpy, masked, vaguely mommy-shaped figures on the porch.

After a year or so, both sisters and their babies were able to get together in the same room for the first time without masks. According to my friend, the look on the babies’ faces as each of them saw two pretty much identical versions of their moms on opposite sides of the room was one of the most hysterical moments in the history of babies.

The point of this story — aside from the fact that it’s fun to mess with babies — is that the nature of reality is always a little beyond our comprehension. We have all been in situations where we thought we knew what was going on, but then discovered that we really, really didn’t, and had to reconcile two similar but fundamentally mismatched versions of reality.

Which, somehow, brings us to today’s cocktail.

Double Take

This is a take on a classic — if not often made — cocktail, a Cucumber Ginger Gin Fizz. This version uses largely the same ingredients as the original, but turns them on their head. Traditionally, this is made with cucumber juice and ginger syrup. This version uses homemade cucumber syrup and ginger brandy. You might think of this as a mirror image — the “other mommy” — of the original.

1 ounce cucumber syrup (see below)

1 ounce London dry gin – I like Death’s Door, but Gordon’s would work well, too

1 ounce ginger brandy – I’m a fan of Jacquin’s

1 ounce fresh squeezed lime juice

2 ounces seltzer

Combine the cucumber syrup, gin, brandy and lime juice with ice in a cocktail shaker. Shake enthusiastically.

Strain over fresh ice in a rocks glass.

Gently stir in the seltzer.

Sip, while thinking deep thoughts about the nature of reality.

The lime hits you first. You smile and nod approvingly, because you really like the taste of lime juice, and here it isn’t too acidic. Then your palate and a different set of synapses grab your attention and say, “What do you mean, ‘lime’? That’s ginger.” And you keep smiling and nodding, because you like ginger, too. But it’s at that point that you notice the cucumber, which is pushed out of the way by the lime again. It’s like a set of extremely demanding triplets. Fortunately, they have the gin and the fizziness of the seltzer to ground them.

The nature of existence can be transient.

Cucumber Syrup

Wash, but don’t peel some cucumber — half of one, three of them, it doesn’t matter — and chop it into medium (half-inch) dice.

Freeze it for several hours, or overnight. This will give jagged ice crystals a chance to form and poke holes in all the cucumber’s cell walls.

Combine the frozen cucumber and an equal amount of sugar — by weight — in a saucepan, and cook over medium heat. You’re going to look at what seems to be a dry, lumpy pile of sugar, and think to yourself, “That’s never going to make syrup!” Until it does. All those tiny holes made by the ice crystals will let the sugar draw all the liquid out of the cucumber, and because a cucumber is approximately 96 percent water, everything will come together very satisfyingly.

Bring the syrup to a boil, to make certain that all the sugar has dissolved, then remove from heat, and let it steep for 30 minutes.

Drain the syrup with a fine mesh strainer, and store in your refrigerator for several weeks.

Featured Photo: Double Take. Photo by John Fladd.

Nashua Center fundraiser with food

Nashua Center will present its 21st Taste of the Towns event at the Sheraton Nashua on Thursday, May 2, at 6 p.m.. Eighteen area restaurants, caterers, brewers and distributors will present food and drink as varied as Thai food, baked goods, Mexican dishes or vodka.

Taste of the Towns is the Nashua Center’s signature fundraising event of the year. Proceeds go to support the Center’s mission to provide high-quality specialized care and support to small children and young adults with developmental difficulties in the greater Nashua area.

“Everyone involved in the event is very proud,” said Nashua Center’s Director of Development, Maryanne Gordineer. “We’re so proud of the vendors who come back year after year, and for them this is a way of connecting with the community and giving back.”

Gordineer described the event as a way for like-minded people to network with each other and chat in a relaxed, celebratory atmosphere.

“It’s a memorable experience,” she said. “It’s just fun!” Gordineer said there are usually more than 300 guests who attend the event and circulate around, socializing and tasting samples from the participating vendors: “I like to think of it as dinner by the bite.”

In addition to its role as a fundraiser, Taste of the Towns is a way to bring attention to the Nashua Center and the work it does for the Nashua community. Established in 1973, the organization helps people build fulfilling lives as part of the community. In the case of very young children, this can take the form of early intervention services to help families identify developmental challenges and give them support. For young adults with special needs, it might be helping them experience post-secondary education, whether it’s attending classes, getting vocational training, or just experiencing an aspect of college life like using a school’s gym facilities or cafeteria. The Center helps provide adult day services or residential services for other clients.

“It’s all about inclusivity,” Gordineer said. “We facilitate independence and community participation.”

Tickets for Taste of the Towns cost $75. They usually sell out quickly, Gordineer said.

For Gardineer, who started with the Nashua Center shortly before last year’s event, it was an introduction to New England foods. “I’d never had a lobster roll before!” she said, adding that it was a revelation.

Taste of the Towns
When: Thursday, May 2, at 6 p.m.
Where: Sheraton Nashua, 11 Tara Boulevard, Nashua
Tickets: $75 at nashuacenter.org
Participating vendors:
Bellavance Beverage Co.
Bistro 603
Friendly Toast
From the Barrel Brewing Co.
Graceful Baking
Imported Grape
K’Sone’s Thai Dining & Lounge
Liquid Therapy
Live Free Distillery
The Peddler’s Daughter
Prestige Beverage Group
Shorty’s Mexican Roadhouse
Smokehaus Barbecue
Tara House Grill
Thon Khao
Tito’s Handmade Vodka
You You Japanese Bistro
Woodman’s Artisan Bakery

Featured Photo: Courtesy photo.