Category: Drink

I’m finally attacking the intimidatingly large stack of books I’ve bought over the past year and never actually read. One of the most fascinating is Hear Me Talkin’ to Ya: The Story of Jazz as Told By The Men who Made it, by Nat Shapiro and Nat Hentoff (1955, Rinehart and Co.). Leaving its problematic subtitle aside (ahem, Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey and a parade of other unamused female musicians) the most fascinating part of the jazz story so far has been the descriptions of Storyville. Storyville was the celebrated red light district in New Orleans where, legend has it, jazz music was born. In New Orleans tradition, it has become mythologized so much that it has taken on a brassy, tarnished aura of being joyful and exotic. Nowhere more so than in the names of the “sportin’ men” and working girls who lived there: Flamin’ Mamie, Crying Emma, Big Butt Annie, Naked Mouf Mattie, Boxcar Shorty, Titanic, Bull Frog Sonny, Street Rabbit, Three Finger Annie, Charlie Bow Wow, Yard Dog, Knock On The Wall, and Tenderloin Thelma are all intriguing. Each of them deserves a song, an adventure movie, a mystery novel or at least a cocktail dedicated to them.

The two names that jump out at me, though, are Boo Boo and Big Boo Boo.

I don’t know who Boo Boo was. I don’t know how he got his name. I don’t know who Big Boo Boo was, though I like to think of the two of them as partners — Boo Boo being the brains of the operation, and Big Boo Boo lurking in the background, occasionally cracking his knuckles. If we were to make a movie about them, we would learn in one of the last scenes that Big Boo Boo had a beautiful tenor singing voice.

This is all conjecture on my part. For all we know, the Two Boo Boos might have been two women, calling to potential customers from their balconies.

Anyway, here are two drinks to honor them:

Boo Boo Shooter

It makes sense that if we are going to make a pair of drinks dedicated to Boo Boo and Big Boo Boo one of the drinks needs to be little and one needs to be big. This is the little one.

Ingredients:
¼ oz. hibiscus syrup (see below)
1 oz. jalapeño rum (see below)
½ oz. passion fruit juice cocktail (yeah — see below for that, too)
¼ oz. fresh squeezed lime juice
1 (seriously, just one) drop rose water

Add each ingredient to a chilled shot glass or very small juice glass. Drink it.

This is spicy, and sour, and floral. It’s rather delicious, but it hangs around in your mouth and your head for easily 10 minutes after you have drunk it, reminding you of all the exotic places you haven’t visited yet.

Hibiscus syrup: Bring 10 ounces of water and 9 ounces of sugar to a boil and boil it for a few more seconds, until the sugar seems to disappear. Take it off the heat and add ½ ounce of dried hibiscus flowers and 1 ounce of fresh-squeezed lemon juice. Stir, let it sit for half an hour, then strain it into a bottle, and store in your refrigerator. Depending on your hibiscus blossoms, the color will range from an exotic purple to a deep magenta.

Jalapeño rum: Roughly chop 4 or 5 jalapeño peppers, and put them into a large, wide-mouthed jar. Add a bottle of white or silver rum (again, probably not the good stuff; any subtleties of flavor will be completely covered up). Shake twice per day, then strain and bottle after 4 days.

Passion fruit juice cocktail: Find this in the juice aisle at your favorite supermarket.

Big Boo Boo

Yes, this is largely a scaled-up, highball version of the Boo Boo Shooter.

Ingredients:
1 oz. hibiscus syrup
2 oz. jalapeño rum
4 oz. passion fruit cocktai
1 oz. fresh squeezed lime juice
3-4 oz. plain seltzer or soda water (right now I like Topo Chico Mineral Water; it’s aggressively bubbly)
3 drops (again, seriously, only three) rose water

Fill a shaker with ice. Add hibiscus syrup, rum, passion fruit juice, and lime juice.

Shake until very cold

Pour into a large glass filled with ice. Strain it, don’t strain it — this drink does not stand on ceremony.

Add seltzer, and stir gently to combine.

Add rose water.

This drink tastes a lot like its namesake shooter but provides a more protracted experience. After a few sips you may decide that this drink is too spicy, or too sour, or too weird for you. A moment later you will find yourself going back for another taste. Then another.

Eventually you will probably find yourself back in the kitchen, making another, with a confused frown of concentration on your face. Which I think Boo Boo and Big Boo Boo would appreciate.

Featured photo: Big Boo Boo and the Boo Boo Shooter. Photo by John Fladd.

What you eat or drink affects your brew

In sort of a famous family incident several years ago during a get-together at a restaurant, my dad complained about the Wachusett Country Ale he was drinking. He didn’t like it. The flavor wasn’t quite right.

As the brew is one of my staples and frankly, unarguably, one of the least offensive brews on the planet, this concerned me. Was it skunked? Did the bartender accidentally give him the wrong beer? Was something wrong with my father?

After a little investigation, he admitted he had popped an Altoid just as he was drinking the beer. Look, I’m not going to question the big guy. He must have needed a breath mint. But I feel sure the brewers at Wachusett Brewing Co. didn’t brew any of their beers to be enjoyed with an Altoid.

The point is, juxtaposition matters when it comes to beer.

This is not an article about pairing food with beer. This is some commentary on at least considering how one thing might impact another. It’s also about encouraging people to give beers another shot — in a different context, you might find different results.

If you’ve had a couple rich, smooth stouts, and then you make the jump to an amped up double IPA, well, it might work but the bitterness might be a lot to take on the first sip.

Recently I was enjoying a delicious Velvet Moon Milk Stout by Mighty Squirrel Brewing of Waltham, Mass., just savoring the rich coffee flavor and decadence of the brew. Then I followed it up with a much drier stout. It was not a good experience and left me disliking the second brew. I even bad-mouthed it to a friend.

I gave the brew another shot several days later and it was a completely different, completely pleasurable experience. I’m glad I came back to it.

Juxtaposition matters, of course, when you’re making a dramatic shift from one style to another, but it also matters when you’re sticking with the same style. If you’re enjoying a bunch of IPAs, sometimes the combination of hops from the next brew can hit you right or wrong.

Food has an impact as well, potentially bringing out the right or wrong flavors from the beer you’re drinking.

Just keep it in mind. If you try a beer and you don’t like it, you might just not like it, but consider the possibility that other factors have impacted how you feel about it. Try it again in a different context.

Here are three random beers that can probably be enjoyed in succession but I don’t really know.

ArrrVP Oak-Aged Robust Vanilla Porter by Great North Aleworks (Manchester)

Great North Aleworks takes its terrific Robust Vanilla Porter (RVP) and ages it in rum oak cubes, which accentuates the vanilla in the brew and gives it a little “bite,” while the beer maintains a dry finish. At its core this is still RVP, just a little different. The ABV is pretty low at 6.6 percent, making it approachable too.

Blueberry Ale by Wachusett Brewing Co. (Westminster, Mass.)

Just a coincidence that I referenced Wachusett earlier in the piece, but when you have had more IPAs than you should, this is a perfect choice. The subtle sweetness from the blueberries and the light body provide the perfect counterpoint to all that hop bitterness.

Unraveled IPA by Founders Brewing Co. (Grand Rapids, Michigan)

This is good stuff: very juicy but also smooth, if an IPA can be that. It’s also a crystal clear pour, making it very unique for this style. It also has big citrus aromas.

What’s in My Fridge
60 Minute IPA by Dogfish Head Craft Brewed Ales (Milton, Delaware) I hadn’t had this in forever and I’ll tell you what, this brew, now nearly 20 years old, absolutely stands up to today’s super-hoppy IPAs. Cheers.

Featured photo: ArrrVP by Great North Aleworks

Early on in the Covid lockdown, I decided to take ice cream to the workers at my dump. I wanted to do something for someone in essential services and I have a lot of respect for people who do hard, thankless work.

Every week during hot weather I would swing by the general store in our town on the way to the dump and grab them some ice cream bars or cold sodas. A small gesture of thanks.0

So I was at the dump transfer station, dropping off our trash and talking with one of the guys there, telling him some sort of stupid joke, something like:

Q: Why did the dolphin flunk out of ballet school?
A: Poor poise.

My friend laughed loudly enough to get the attention of one of the other guys working behind a giant stack of cardboard.

“IS THAT THE JOKE GUY?”

“YEAH!”

“DID HE BRING ICE CREAM?”

I’d kind of like that on my grave: THE JOKE GUY. HE BROUGHT ICE CREAM.

Anyway, one of my friends at the transfer station gave me a gift one week, a 1963 copy of The Barmen’s Bible — a well-worn cocktail manual from the time when bartenders could reasonably be expected to wear bowties.

This week, I was looking through The Barmen’s Bible and ran across a drink recipe that stopped me cold. Under a section devoted to “coolers” was something called a Honolulu Cooler — a solid name. A promising name. Until you get to the Southern Comfort.

Crushed ice — check

Lime juice — check

Pineapple juice — check

Southern Comfort … ?

Really, Oscar Haimo, President of the International Bar Managers Association, circa 1963? Southern Comfort?

As my wife pointed out, though, this drink is obviously called Honolulu because of the pineapple juice. It doesn’t necessarily have anything more to do with Hawaii than that. It could have been invented in an Elks Club in Akron.

So, this is what I figured. I’d make this clearly awful drink, figure out what was wrong with it (the Southern Comfort), then reformulate it to taste better.

As it turns out, there was a flaw in that plan.

The Honolulu Cooler is a solid, tasty drink. It’s shockingly good. You would think that Southern Comfort and pineapple juice would be cough-syrupy sweet, but the fresh lime juice keeps them on a leash. “Shhhh, boys,” it says, “these are our friends; be nice.”

It is refreshing and delicious. You could easily drink an injudicious number of these.

Honolulu Cooler

Juice of half a lime, about 1 oz.

1 jigger (1½ oz.) Southern comfort

Approximately 5 oz. pineapple juice

Fill a tall glass with cracked ice.

Add lime juice and Southern Comfort

Fill to the top with pineapple juice

Stir with a bar spoon.

A little research on this drink hints that it was actually invented and served in a large hotel in Honolulu. The more I thought about it, the more this made sense. It would be incredibly fast and easy to make for wide-eyed tourists and the use of a name-brand alcohol would allow the hotel bar to bump the price by a good 30 percent.

Of course, the fact that this is a perfectly good drink already did not stop me from reconfiguring it anyway.

My version uses lime syrup instead of lime juice, which would make the drink too sweet, but I countered that with the bitterness from Campari and a bracing note from gin.

Existential Luau

1 oz. lime syrup (see below)

1 oz. Campari

2 oz. gin (I like Death’s Door)

4 oz. pineapple juice

cracked ice or tiny ice cubes

Fill a tall glass – a pint glass or a Collins glass – with ice.

Add lime syrup, Campari, and gin.

Top off with pineapple juice.

Stir with a bar spoon.

This drink is pink, but not bubble-gum pink. It’s the color of a sunset. An apricot that someone has whispered a dirty suggestion to. The color of contentment at the end of a hot, trying day. The ingredients have a tendency to separate very slightly, so the Luau starts out a little bitter-sweet, then becomes more limey as you drink it.

As do your thoughts.

Lime Syrup

Juice of 3-4 limes

An equal amount (by weight) of white sugar

Zest of 2 limes.

In a small saucepan, bring the lime juice and sugar to a boil. Stir until the sugar is completely dissolved, about 10-15 seconds, once it’s boiling.

Remove from heat and add lime zest. Let it steep for 30 minutes.

Strain the zest from the syrup, so it doesn’t get bitter.

Label your jar so you won’t have an awkward moment a week from now, when your wife wants to know what’s in that jar in the door of the fridge. Or maybe that’s just me.

Featured photo: Photo by John Fladd.

Veggies and seafood pair well with white wines

Grilled steak or spaghetti and meatballs call for a robust wine such as a cabernet sauvignon or a Chianti. Easy enough. But when the dishes are lighter fare, such as a baked or broiled fish or seafood, a salad, a cheese plate, the selection of the wine becomes a bit more complicated and can result in either a perfect pairing of flavors and richness or sheer disaster.

Often wines for these dishes tend to be white wines, although a bright, light red pinot noir or Beaujolais can be paired with some seafood, such as grilled salmon, grilled scallops and tuna, or a mushroom risotto. White wines can be light and crisp or fuller in body with some creaminess to the mouth. They span the spectrum from the dry citric notes of sauvignon blanc of Bordeaux to the less acidic notes of whites from the Venezia district of Italy, to Alsatian whites with their minerality, to California chardonnays, with their full mouth feel along with the possibility of oak.

The first wine is Bertani’s 2018 Velante Pinot Grigio (originally $14.99, reduced to $7.99, at New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets). As the name suggests, this may be considered the “Italian white wine” as pinot grigio is the most imported variety of wine in America. The grape variety is indigenous to Burgundy but is now grown throughout northern Italy and has migrated to the rest of the world. In Italy it is found in Veneto, Trentino, Friuli, and south to Umbria and Emilia-Romagna. This wine is mildly acidic, with a low alcohol content of 12.5 percent. The grapes come from the Venezia Giulia region, grown vertically trellised, harvested, and fermented in steel containers for three months, followed by another three months in bottle maturation.

To the nose it has an aroma of green or golden tart apples along with the subtle sweetness of pear and peach. It remains light and crisp to the tongue and to my palate is a bit like an unoaked chardonnay. This wine is perfect with light plates like a salad with greens, oranges and nuts, or broiled fish, pasta dishes and risottos. It is a pleasure to be enjoyed when cooled to 45 to 50 degrees.

Our second wine is Substance 2019 Washington State Chardonnay (originally $18.99, reduced to $14.99 at state stores). Charles Smith, winemaker and former rock concert tour manager, respects hard work and puts that hard work into his wine. This is a chardonnay that is aromatic with some citric, apples and flowers to your nose. The mouth is rich and creamy, with oak and vanilla and a bit of yeast that you would find in a Champagne. At 14 percent it is higher in alcohol than the pinot grigio, nudging the alcoholic content of rich cabernet sauvignons.

The wine is sourced from several vineyards in the Columbia Valley, all at elevations from 1,350 to 1,650 feet above sea level. Interestingly, the high elevations allow the vineyards an extended growing season as early late-summer harvest frosts can settle into the valleys before reaching the hillsides. This results in a higher sugar content in the grape and a full, rich flavor that excels beyond the citric notes a less mature chardonnay would have. This is an excellent wine to pair with lobster or salmon, but it can also hold up to a Caesar or vegetarian Cobb salad, and perhaps a simple green salad of lettuces and herbs, with a creamy and not too acidic dressing.