Category: Drink

About a week ago I found a truly excellent photo online of Walter the Muppet and the Great Gonzo posing for a selfie at Epcot Center. If you are unsure who Walter and Gonzo are, just know that they are extremely cool to nerdy Muppet enthusiasts.

I saved the picture to a file on my computer, not entirely sure what I would do with it. I have a habit of doing this; I have a collection of hundreds of funny, strange or just interesting pictures to attach to emails or use in presentations. I never know when one of them might come in handy, so I keep them around, just in case. Yes, I suppose this is hoarding, but it’s digital hoarding, so at least I can still navigate my living room.

After an hour or so, I thought, “You know who would love this picture? The Artist.” Our only child is a freshman at art school in Chicago, and this might make a nice surprise.

So I uploaded the photo to a drug store to be printed. Later that afternoon I picked up my prints, then went to an art supply store and bought a frame. I had to juggle a couple of cards and my cellphone at the register while I tried to find a coupon for the frame, and ended up throwing everything into my bag as I left the store, because I didn’t want to hold up the line behind me.

When I mailed the framed Muppet photo to The Artist, I used the art supply store bag as cushioning, to protect the glass in the frame, and long story short, I’m pretty sure I mailed my debit card to Chicago.

I’ve dedicated this week’s cocktail to my lone remaining brain cell.

The Brain Cell

• 1 ounce Ol’ Major Bacon Bourbon
• 1 ounce Howler Head Banana Bourbon
• 1 ounce Skrewball Peanut Butter Whiskey
• 1 ounce fresh squeezed lime juice
• 1 ounce ginger beer – not ginger ale; this drink needs the extra bit of ginger
• 4 drops Tabasco sauce

Combine all three whiskeys, the lime juice, and the Tabasco over ice in a cocktail shaker. Shake to chill.

Add the ginger beer and stir gently.

Strain over fresh ice in a rocks or coupé glass.

Sip, while listening to “Yalili Ya Aini,” by Jah Wobble’s Invaders of the Heart. It’s a strange and beautiful song that will match your — OK, my — mental state.

This can be a slightly befuddling cocktail, even before you make it. The list of its ingredients are surprising, perhaps even intimidating. Bourbon, bacon, banana and peanut butter don’t seem to make a lot of sense together. And yet the combination works.

Many people are familiar with an “Elvis Sandwich” — peanut butter and banana. It seems pleasantly wacky, but the sweetness of the banana complements the proteiny solidity of the peanut butter. What most people don’t know is that the sandwich Elvis Presley actually loved was a grilled peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwich. There’s a common thread there of saltiness, sweetness and umami. (Clearly, my own exhausted brain cells have a strange priority in what they are dedicated to.)

So there’s our drink’s whiskey taken care of. We know that bourbon pairs well with sweet tastes, and certainly with other whiskeys. But won’t that leave this drink too sweet? It would, if not for the lime juice, which brings everything back in line. Its acidity and fruitiness pair well with the peanut butter and banana flavors.

The ginger beer and the Tabasco give a little bit of a bite to the operation, and the ginger beer also adds a slight tingle of effervescence.

This is one of those cocktails that comes at you in waves. The bacon and peanut butter hit you first, followed by fruity, tingly aftertaste. You’ll know that you like it, as soon as you taste it, but you will probably drink at least two of these, trying to wrap your head around it.

Without having to go to Chicago.

Featured photo: The Brain Cell. Photo by John Fladd.

On Jan. 10, 1992, the Greek container ship Ever Laurel ran into rough weather in the North Pacific, a couple of days out from Tacoma. At some point a stack of six shipping containers snapped its chains and plunged overboard into the Pacific Ocean.

This kind of accident isn’t common but it’s also not unheard of. On average around 1,500 shipping containers are lost at sea each year. This is a tiny percentage of the estimated 500 million containers in use, but also nothing to shrug at.

What made this particular accident noteworthy is that one of the containers was filled with 28,000 bath toys, including 7,200 yellow rubber duckies.

Over the next several years the toys were carried north by ocean currents, eventually traveling through the Northwest Passage north of Canada, and dispersed by other currents around the world. Even now some of these toys are still washing up in unexpected places. They have been found as far away as the United Kingdom, Australia and Chile. Now that there is less Arctic sea ice than ever, some plastic ducks, turtles and beavers are being released to a new generation of beach-combers.

As I’m sure you’re aware, National Rubber Ducky Day is this weekend. You are probably still in the process of getting rid of other holiday ornaments, and haven’t had time to shop for rubber ducks, but if you’re feeling a little spent, gray and empty with the start of a new year, it’s probably worth raising a glass to our plastic yellow friends and reflecting on the fact that things could always be worse. You could spend 30 years, bobbing and smiling, through Arctic Sea ice.

Rubber Ducky Cocktail

• 1½ ounces Midori melon liqueur
• 1½ ounces 99 Peaches peach schnapps
• 2½ ounces fresh watermelon juice (see below)
• ¾ ounce fresh squeezed lime juice

Open your laptop, and place it on the counter next to you.

Open YouTube, and search for Hampenberg DuckToy Vocal Club Mix.

Turn your volume up to an unconscionable level and press play. This will be the perfect background music for mixing this drink. You’re ready now.

Combine all ingredients with ice in a cocktail shaker.

Shake enthusiastically.

Pour, including ice, into a rocks glass.

Sip, vibing seamlessly — or, if you are like me, shuffling awkwardly — to the rubber ducky club mix playing on your computer.

This is a shockingly fun cocktail. The melon juice and the melon liqueur obviously go well together. The peach schnapps provides a floral fruitiness. By itself watermelon juice is surprisingly flat, but the acid from a jolt of lime juice brings it to life. This doesn’t exactly taste like bubble gum, but it also doesn’t not taste like gum of some sort. At first glance this might seem flighty and low-octane — and that may be true of the Midori — but the 99 Peaches actually clocks in at 99 proof, so this is not a drink to take for granted. Like a rubber ducky lost at sea, it might take you to unexpected places.

Watermelon Juice

Buy a one-quart container of pre-cubed watermelon at your supermarket. You aren’t going to be laying this out on a fruit plate or pairing with a nice prosciutto, so it’s OK to cut a corner during this process.

Pour the contents of the container into your blender and blend thoroughly. If you notice a seed or two, don’t panic; your blender will take care of things. If you have an over-powered, overly enthusiastic blender like mine, he will probably look on any seeds as a challenge.

Using a fine-mesh strainer, strain off the watermelon pulp. Leave everything in the strainer for half an hour or so, to let the components say goodbye to each other.

This should net you about 12 ounces of juice. If you want to drink it as juice, add the juice of half a lime to de-flatten it (see above).

Featured photo: Rubber Ducky Cocktail. Photo by John Fladd.

New Year’s Eve is supposed to be a romantic holiday. In my experience, it’s a little over-hyped. The best New Year’s Eve I ever had was when I was 8 years old. I was being babysat by an older cousin. At midnight we went outside and honked the horn of my uncle’s car, then went back inside and ate buttered noodles.

I might be jaded about New Year’s, because I’ve never been invited to a swanky party.

Be that as it may, when it comes to romance, nothing holds a candle to NASA.

The Mars rover Opportunity was launched in June 1993 and landed on the surface of Mars seven months later. It was one of a pair of rovers sent on that mission; its twin, Spirit, was sent to the opposite side of the planet. The two rovers took geological samples and surveys, made measurements and took photographs.

The mission was supposed to last 90 days, but through a combination of superb engineering and mind-bogglingly good luck the two probes kept working long past the point anyone had dreamed they could. After five years Spirit got mired in dust and couldn’t move anymore, but Opportunity kept going month after month, for a staggering 14 years.

Eventually, after operating for 57 times its designed lifespan, Opportunity wound down. Before the ground team at NASA ended its mission in 2018, they broadcast one final message to Opportunity.

They played Billie Holiday’s 1944 recording of “I’ll Be Seeing You”.

It’s the most romantic damn thing I’ve ever heard of. I get teary-eyed just thinking about it.

Does this have anything to do with New Year’s Eve?

Not particularly, except that much like Opportunity, most of us have lasted much longer than we’ve had any right to expect. And as we look back over the past year and wonder if we’ve accomplished anything or not, the mere fact that we are still here is a little miracle, and if we’re very lucky, some of us have someone to play Billie Holiday for us.

And whether we’re at a swanky party or eating buttered noodles, it’s a good occasion for a fancy New Year’s cocktail.

West 75th Cocktail

• 1 ounce apple brandy – I like Laird’s Applejack
• ½ ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice
• ½ ounce Chambord raspberry liqueur
• 2 dashes orange bitters
• 3 ounces Lambrusco, chilled – Lambrusco is a sparkling Italian red or blush wine. It’s a little sweet, so many wine enthusiasts can be a bit sniffy about it, but I like it, and it was made for this cocktail

Combine the brandy, Chambord, lemon juice and bitters with ice in a cocktail shaker. Swirl and shake to chill.

Strain into a Champagne flute.

Top with Lambrusco.

If you are alone, sip, while listening to “I’ll Be Seeing You.” It’s OK to cry. If you are at a party, sip, while playing “Tiny Bubbles” by Don Ho. The other guests will be confused but incredibly impressed when you sing the chorus in Hawaiian.

Lambrusco leans toward the fruity side of sparkling wine, which pairs well with the apple brandy. The apple brandy might make this drink a little too boozy-tasting, but the Chambord pulls it back to berry notes. That might make it a tiny bit too sweet, but the lemon juice and bitters pull everything back into line. This cocktail is a balancing act that succeeds like a pretty girl on a tightrope juggling knives.\

It’s a very small miracle, like Billie Holiday, buttered noodles, or a happy, sleeping space robot.

Featured photo: West 75th. Photo by John Fladd.

It’s a pretty good party.

There is good jazz playing in the background — Louis Armstrong, and Tony Bennet, and Nina Simone, with a sprinkling of Sinatra. Good stuff, but not distracting, nothing that anyone will have a deep attachment to from high school. Nobody’s going to shout, “Hey! Crank that up!” and derail the vibe.

There’s a nice blend of guests — obligatory family members, and actual friends you want to spend time with. Interestingly, your college roommate has struck up a friendship with your Uncle Charley with the conspiracy theories. They’re both smiling and gesturing wildly, so they seem to have found some common ground.

You don’t have a fireplace, but there’s a Yule log burning on the TV screen, which also keeps your cousin from switching on the game.

Everyone has brought something for the Yankee swap. You’ve got a good feeling about this year. You spent all year combing flea markets and yard sales and finally scored a brass sculpture of an exotic dancer with a clock in her belly. She’s wrapped inconspicuously in plain brown paper with a tag that says, “Open me. Or not. It’s no skin off my nose either way.”

Dinner went well — tacos, so everybody got a little bit of what they wanted. There’s tres leches cake for dessert. It took a couple of years to convince the family to try it, but now it’s become a tradition. A couple of years ago a slightly inebriated cousin spent 15 minutes enthusiastically explaining tres leches to your friend Maria, who grew up in Chiapas.

“It’s like CAKE, but it’s uh, um —,” he said for the third time.

“Wet?” Maria suggested, with a small smile on her face.

“YES! It’s CAKE but it’s WET!” he half-shouted enthusiastically.

“And cold?” Maria suggested again.

“AND COLD!!!” he agreed, beaming at Maria, filled with goodwill and Budweiser, then staggered off to find a couch.

You have three or four children at the party this year and they are so full of tacos and cake that if it weren’t for the promise of presents they’d have fallen asleep by now.

Your mother and her sister are getting along tonight. It’s always a toss-up whether they will get along, or end up looking at old family photos, which will remind them of some half-forgotten grudge from the 1970s, and releasing the Drama Kraken.

All in all, it’s a pretty good evening, as long as you keep topping off everyone’s glass. That’s why it’s a good idea to make batches of drinks ahead of time.

For instance:

• Raspberry-Rose Rickey
• 1 12-ounce package frozen raspberries
• 1 cup floral gin – I used Uncle Van’s and was very pleased
• ½ cup sugar
• ½ cup fresh squeezed lime juice – about 4 limes
• ¼ teaspoon rose water
• plain seltzer

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Stir to combine, and leave, covered, for an hour at room temperature.

Mash the contents with a potato masher, re-cover, and leave for another hour.

Stir, then strain with a fine-mesh strainer. You will not believe how many seeds raspberries have in them.

In a rocks glass with ice or crushed ice, fill with the raspberry-gin mixture, then top with seltzer. Stir.

Roses and berries have a natural affinity for each other. In this case, the background flavor of roses should add a woody/floral note that will meld with the floral gin. In turn, gin and lime are a classic combination, as are lime and raspberries. The four main ingredients chase each other around and around, tickling your palate.

This is a fairly low-octane, not-too-sweet drink that even your most suspicious relatives will accept. Your actual friends will probably love it.

It’s like RASPBERRIES, but WET, with ROSES dunked in it!

It’s time to find somewhere to sit.

Featured photo: Raspberry-Rose Rickey. Photo by John Fladd.

I’m not certain what’s been going on with my dreams lately.

I’m generally a heavy dreamer — most nights will have two or three — but I tend to have a particular menu:

• The one where I’m late for something and it takes me a distressingly long time to pack my suitcase. The longer I look, the more laundry is spread across the floor, most of it mismatched socks.

• The one where I break into the house of somebody I used to know 20 years ago and look for someplace to take a nap.

• The restaurant with a dishwashing area the size of a warehouse, and they start turning the lights off before I’m done with the dishes.

• The one in the world’s largest hotel, with a fantastic view of the ocean.

But for the past week or so, I’ve been having a whopper at some point during the night that is unusually crisp and to the point. It’s almost like one of those TV shows where people accidentally have each other’s dreams.

Last Wednesday, apparently Dream Me got blackout drunk and behaved very badly. The whole dream was different friends and acquaintances filling me in on how much I had disgraced myself. Interestingly, my Dream Friends were not much more responsible than I was:

“You let me DRIVE!!?”

“Well, we weren’t going to miss this!”

Normally I would probably be bothered by this and wonder what was going on with my subconscious, but the night before, I had led a revolution in Polynesia against a supernatural regime, armed with a bar of soap. Soap might not seem like a very effective tool for social change, but my followers were very inspired by it.

Last night, I was involved in a competition between superhero colleges. Students from competing schools kept asking what my superpower was. I’d tell them to slap me as hard as they could, and they’d start to, but something huge and distracting would happen. Finally, one of the other students put together that my superpower was Dodging Fate.

Which is to say, the more I try to figure out what message my brain is trying to send me, the more I need a drink.

Here is a seasonal one that is delicious and fairly straightforward. I wrote a story a few years ago about a girl who was trying to scam her way into a Cranberry Queen beauty pageant. It is called:

The Character Reference

As we all know, character references are, by their nature, deceptive. So is this drink.

• 2 ounces vodka – this is a good job for Tito’s
• 1½ ounces triple sec
• 3 ounces unsweetened cranberry juice
• seltzer to top, ~3 ounces

Shake the vodka, triple sec and cranberry juice with ice, and strain into a tall glass.

Top with seltzer, and stir gently.

Garnish with an orange wedge and a straw.

This is a lovely, light-tasting highball that, like most character references, neglects to tell you its whole story. Cranberry and orange are another classic combination. The vodka plays its part behind the scenes and will look over its shoulder saying, “Who? Me?” if you go looking for it. Keep in mind, though, that this has three and a half ounces of alcohol in it.

This is an excellent holiday party drink — it looks so lovely that other party guests are likely to ask for a sip, then ask for one of their own. After several people have had several of these, the conversations will get significantly more interesting.

As will your dreams

Featured photo: Character reference. Photo by John Fladd.

This is a classic tequila drink.

This time, I’ve substituted mezcal for tequila, because I have a really nice bottle of Siete Misterios that is making me very happy. Mezcal is in the same family as tequila and works nicely in this particular cocktail. In place of the traditional crème de cassis, I’ve used sloe gin. All of this is slightly beside the point, because the star player here, the lynchpin that holds everything together and keeps it from dissolving into a puddle of entropy, is the ginger beer.

If you are new to the world of ginger beer, you could be forgiven for supposing that it is more or less the same as ginger ale. “Beer/ale,” you might say to yourself, “Tomato/tomahto.”

This would be a mistake.

Ginger ale is what your mom brought you when you were sick, to help calm your stomach. It’s what you drink when you want a soda that doesn’t make any demands on you. It might be lovely, but it will always be mild and unassuming. That’s sort of its whole point.

A good ginger beer, on the other hand, is anything but mild. If you ever popped open a bottle of ginger beer thinking it was ginger ale and took a big gulp of it to cure your hiccups, you’d definitely get rid of them, and maybe make your heart seize up for a second.

Ginger beer is all about the ginger.

“OK,” I hear you say, “I like ginger snaps and gingerbread; I really don’t think this is a big deal.”

All right, the next time you go to a juice bar, ask the juice barista (or whatever the technical name for a juice jockey is) to give you a straight shot of ginger juice. She will raise her eyebrow but will do her thing behind the counter and hand you a shot glass with a milky, beige liquid in it. Don’t sip it. Throw that baby down your throat.

It will change your point of view so profoundly that you might quit your job and become a matador. (It’s delicious and very spicy.)

Really good Caribbean ginger beers will often add a little cayenne to intensify the experience a little bit. Do yourself a favor and go to a bodega and pick up a couple bottles of the good stuff for this drink. You’ll be glad you did.

1½ ounces good tequila or mezcal – right now I’m really enjoying Siete Misterios

½ ounce sloe gin

½ ounce fresh squeezed lime juice

3 to 4 ounces excellent ginger beer

Mix the mezcal, lime juice and sloe gin in a cocktail shaker with ice.

Shake for about 30 seconds, then strain into a Collins glass, over fresh ice.

Top off with excellent, just opened ginger beer. Stir with a chopstick.

The ginger beer really is the star of this show, with the mezcal or tequila playing a strong supporting role. The spiciness of the ginger stands up to the smokiness and bite of the tequila. The lime juice brings the acidity that this combination needs. The sloe gin adds color and the faintest hint of fruitiness.

This is the drink that you would be drinking all the time, if you had made some different life choices at a couple of critical times in your youth.

John Fladd is a veteran Hippo writer, a father, writer and cocktail enthusiast, living in New Hampshire.

Featured photo: El Diablo. Photo by John Fladd.