Category: Drink

I called an Über a couple of months ago. My driver got right back to me and said she would pick me up in just a few minutes.

I was enjoying watching the little cartoon of her car drive along the little map to where I was, when my new friend Shanikqua texted me:

“I’m pretty much there. What do you look like?”

I thought about how I should explain what I look like — my choice of jaunty tropical shirt, my gray beard, the twinkle in my eye — then decided to give her a more concise description:

“Hipster Santa Claus”

“Yup, OK. I see you….”

I’d like to say that I’ve struggled with style for my entire life, but honestly, I haven’t put up much of a fight. My fashion icon has always been Billy Joel in the 1970s, with a loosened tie and rolled up sleeves. I spent the ’80s and early ’90s dressed almost exclusively in Hawaiian shirts and painter’s pants. A new century, marriage and fatherhood have not brought any form of sartorial enlightenment.

Two things have changed that: late middle age, and the internet.

I’m not sure when it happened, but a year or two ago the internet algorithms learned my taste in clothes. I would be up late at night, arguing with the L.A. Times crossword puzzle, trying to explain that not every puzzle needs to have “Oreos” as an answer, when a pop-up ad would, er, pop up, and show me a really cool bowling shirt covered with skulls and roses.

“How about this, Boss? Wouldn’t you like to own this? It’s on sale….”

And the next thing you know, I’d be the owner of a Dia de Los Muertos bowling shirt, which of course only encouraged the internet to show me the clothing that a more interesting version of myself would wear.

And since I’ve started looking more grandfatherly, I haven’t had to worry about anyone taking me seriously anyway, so here I am, at a point in life where I should probably be looking at cardigans, actually developing a personal sense of style.

Which is how I ended up in a hat shop in Wichita.

I was drawn in by a spirit of morbid curiosity.

“I’ll just look around for a minute or so,” I told myself. “This is Wichita; you know that it’s going to be all cowboy hats and stuff I couldn’t wear if I wanted to.”

Half an hour later I had tried on a dozen different hats and been fitted for a for-real, no-kidding-around bowler.

So now, apparently, I’m that guy.

All of which is beside the point, except to remind you that Thursday, Sept. 15, is National Felt Hat Day. But of course you knew that already.

The felt hat

Ingredients

• ½ ounce or so of absinthe, for rinsing a glass
• 1 ounce rye whiskey
• 1 ounce sweet vermouth
• 1 ounce crème de violette, a violet-colored and flavored liqueur
• 2 dashes orange bitters

Rinse the inside of a chilled cocktail glass with the absinthe. Roll the absinthe around in the glass, until it has left a layer on the entire inner surface.

Add the other ingredients and ice to a mixing glass, then stir until thoroughly chilled.

Strain into the cocktail glass. Drink while wearing a felt hat.

This is a riff on a drink called the trilby, which is traditionally made with Scotch and pastis. It is whiskey-forward but sweet enough to make you take a sip, tilt your head slightly and raise your eyebrows. The vermouth and crème de violette do a lot of the heavy lifting, and would probably make this a little too sweet, if not for the bitters. The absinthe hovers in the background, advising you not to let your guard down too much.

How good is it?

You’ll be filled to the brim with satisfaction.

Featured photo. The Felt Hat. Photo by John Fladd.

Zinfandel can accompany your meal from the grill

Barbecue, the quintessential way to entertain, to dine, to enjoy family and friends, can extend well into September and October. The fare is important, second only to your choice of company. In this season of sunny days and cool nights, it is a treat to set up the patio for a late afternoon repast, followed by a gathering at the firepit (always monitored in these dry conditions). The food can be chicken, bathed in a rich sweet and sour sauce; sausages, ribs or simply hamburgers, all prepared with appropriate sides, but let’s not forget the wine, the perfect wine to span this array of flavors: zinfandel.

Zinfandel can be described as American. It certainly has a long history on the American landscape. Those of us “of a certain age” remember the big bottles of Gallo, but the history of zinfandel in Europe and America goes deeper than Gallo. The grape appears to have its origins in Croatia and was introduced to the United States in the 1820s, as “Black Zinfardel of Hungary.” The grapes made their way to California in the 1850s, and by the end of the 19th century it was the most widespread variety in California. The Great Depression hit the wine industry hard, and the grape slowly crawled out of obscurity by the middle of the 20th century, with some variants, such as the rose-colored, slightly sweet white zinfandel. Thankfully that variant went the way of big hair and gold chains! Today California is planted in almost 40,000 acres from Paso Robles in San Luis Obispo County to Napa and Sonoma counties, to San Joaquin County and Mendocino County. Each of these regions produces its own signature zinfandel, owing to their different climates, soils, elevations — their respective terroirs.

There are many zinfandels to choose from, but I live by the axiom “life is too short to drink mediocre wine” so am very selective. The beauty of zinfandel is that there are many bottles to select from that are well within reach, or under $30 a bottle. I have selected two for this column.

Our first zinfandel is a 2019 Bedrock Wine Co. Old Vine Zinfandel (available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets, originally priced at $25.99, and reduced to $23.99). Bedrock Wine Company is in Sonoma, and this wine is a creation of Morgan Twain-Peterson. The production of this wine is small, just 4,000 cases. The vines are at least 80 years old, coming from Sonoma, Alexander Valley, and the San Joaquin Valley. The color is a deep ruby red. To the nose there are blackberries and plum. These carry through to the tongue with additional notes of vanilla, with some tobacco. It has a slightly more than medium finish to it, benefiting from some aeration. It is not as bold as a cabernet sauvignon; it isn’t supposed to be. However, this bottle can be set aside for another five to 10 years to be enjoyed in future September evenings!

Our second zinfandel is a 2019 Neal Family Vineyards Rutherford Dust Vineyards Zinfandel (also available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets, originally priced at $32.99, and reduced to $29.99). This wine hails from the Rutherford District of the Napa Valley floor. With only 500 cases produced, it is a blend of organically grown zinfandel grapes, with some petite syrah added. 2019 was an excellent year for this wine, with this vintage rating better than any other year. The color is a deep ruby red. To the nose there are cherries, pomegranate and raspberries. These continue to the tongue along with nutmeg and white chocolate adding surprisingly complex layers of taste. This wine has the sophistication of a cabernet sauvignon, in part because it is aged in 40 percent new Hungarian oak. It is to be savored because, unfortunately, the fires of 2020 resulted in Neal’s not having a harvest, but the next vintage, 2021, will be available in March 2023.

These are two exquisite zinfandels, coming from different locations but sharing much in their very low production and high quality. They are to be enjoyed over that casual barbecue, and perhaps finished over the firepit. Enjoy the season, the warm days and cool nights; enjoy the barbecue with some excellent zinfandels.

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.

I remember the first time I drank a gin and tonic.

It was my first week at college. There was some sort of reception with an open bar. (The drinking age in Vermont was 18 at the time — a fact that led to a great many questionable decisions over the next few years.) Being 18, I had never actually ordered a cocktail from a bartender before, and I was flying blind. At some point, I had heard someone mention something called a gin and tonic, and it sounded like something a grownup would order, so that’s what I ordered.

It was cold and clean and tasted like pine needles and magic.

Gin is like that. It is so aromatic that it easily evokes sense memories:

That time you were invited to a party on a yacht. The sound of soft music and clever conversation.

The smell of cigarette smoke and your uncles accusing each other of cheating at poker every Christmas.

Sitting on the veranda of the officer’s club in the jungles of Burma after playing a few chukkers of polo in the tropical heat, hoping to stave off malaria.

Well, your memories will be specific to you, obviously.

But most gin and tonics taste pretty much the same, right? We all have our own individual memories, but they’re all centered on more or less the same taste, yes?

That would be true, if any two gins tasted the same. There are some that are close in flavor, but others are staggeringly different. Gin is a neutral grain spirit (vodka, in other words) that has been infused with botanical ingredients — think herbs, roots, flowers, etc. The most common of these is juniper berries — that’s where the pine taste comes from — but different recipes might have very different supporting botanicals, and a few omit the juniper altogether.

The recipe for a classic gin and tonic is deceptively simple: 2 ounces of gin, 4 or 5 ounces of tonic water, ice and a squeeze of lime. Boom! About as easy as it gets — no shaking, no mess, 30 seconds or so of concentration, and you’re ready to build some new neural pathways in your hippocampus.

But four different gins might give us four different pathways into the forests, deserts and Victorian lilac gardens of your mind.

Gin No. 1 – Uncle Val’s Botanical Gin

I don’t know who Uncle Val is, or even whose uncle he is, but he knows how to make a gin. There are two varieties of Uncle Val’s, a botanical one and a “restorative” one. I eagerly anticipate trying the restorative one — I could frankly use some restoration — but we are talking about the botanical variety right now.

Earlier this year I got to check off a bucket list item and went to an actual fancy speakeasy, where extremely talented bartenders will talk to you very earnestly about strange and exotic cocktails.

“What am I tasting?” I asked. “The rosemary? Is it the beets?”

“Well, I hope you can taste those, but it’s the gin.”

“No, I think it’s the rosemary.”

My new friend didn’t bother arguing but poured about a quarter of an ounce of Uncle Val’s into a cordial glass and slid it across the bar to me.

He was right. It was the gin. It is very good gin.

In a gin and tonic, Uncle Val’s has a round, floral taste. There are times when you get a G&T in your hands, it is gone in two or three minutes, and your wife has switched you over to diet soda. With this gin, you find yourself sipping enthusiastically but slowly. It is complex enough that even if you aren’t a gin snob you will spend a very long time trying to identify the background flavors.

Good luck with that.

Gin No. 2 – Drumshanbo Gunpowder Irish Gin

A few months ago I went to an event hosted by the Irish Whiskey Council that presented a bunch of New Hampshire liquor people with five or six Irish alcohols. While not a whiskey, this gin was far and away my favorite part of the presentation, with the possible exception of taking a morning off from work to drink Irish alcohol in the first place.

Drumshanbo has a sharper, slightly more medicinal flavor. There are definitely some background flavor notes, but it has a crisp, dry taste that plays really well with the lime. This is the gin and tonic to seal an important business deal.

Or maybe to propose to someone.

Gin No. 3 – Djinn Spirits Distilled Gin

I stumbled across this local gin — it’s made in Nashua — almost completely by accident. I was looking for a gin to pair with a really aggressive flavor — goat cheese, in this case — and this was recommended to me. The theory was that it had so many exotic ingredients that at least one or two of them would pair with whatever you might try to build a flavor bridge to.

It makes a truly excellent gin and tonic.

This is another one of those gins that you might find yourself sipping slowly and thoughtfully, as you try to identify the background flavors you are tasting. A friend and I put a solid half-hour into it and finally — after detouring into some increasingly bizarre stories (including one about Elias “Lucky” Baldwin, the man blamed with introducing peacocks as an invasive species to California. A fascinating man. Look him up.) — decided that maybe maybe we were tasting green apples. This isn’t to say that this gin actually has any green apples in it; that’s what we thought we tasted.

Gin No. 4 – Collective Arts Lavender and Juniper Gin

Let’s say you’ve had a rough week. Not terrible — no literal fires or death or actual hair pulling — but a real grind to get through. Let’s further say that you’ve decided that you would benefit from a little self-care — a small moment of grace and kindness to yourself.

This is the gin and tonic that will help center you before a weekend of mowing or back-to-school shopping or intramural lacrosse.

What makes it so special? The lavender.

I know: Lavender is tricky. Not enough of it, and it hides in the background and doesn’t bring anything to the party. Too much of it, and suddenly you’re at a fancy-soap-in-your-grandmother’s-bathroom party. This gin gets it just right. It’s soothing, civilized and — kind, if that makes any sense. It takes you by the hand and lets you know that you are strong and attractive enough to handle whatever is waiting for you after dinner.

Featured photo. Gin and Tonic. Photo by John Fladd.

Lighten up your wines with a little fizz

The kids will soon be returning to school, but that doesn’t mean summer is over! Summer is a mindset, and if we truly work at it, we can have summer last until the beginning of October. Let’s be realistic! This summer we have experienced some record temperatures and drought conditions. And there doesn’t appear to be an end in sight, anytime soon. What does this mean? We can continue to enjoy our patios and decks, and meals from the grill with ingredients that came from the farmers markets, such as zucchini, fresh corn, paired to fish and chicken. Or we can enjoy those fresh tomatoes in salads or gazpacho!

What better beverage to enjoy with these light meals than spritzers?

What are spritzers, and where did they come from, and what have they become? One story is that they originated with the mid-19th-century occupation of Venice by the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Troops stationed in Venice sought to soften their wine by adding a “splash or spritz” of recently invented carbonated water, or soda water. Venetians embraced this and substituted prosecco for some of the soda water, adding slices of citrus — oranges, lemons and limes. This was expanded with the introduction of Aperol to the mix. Whether or not there is truth in this historical account matters not. The evolution of this concoction continues, much to our delight, because no matter how you drink a spritzer, whether traditionally over ice, or as an Aperol Spritz, it a delicious way to cool off during the summer.

Our first beverage is a nod to what is traditionally thought of as the true spritzer: white wine, soda water, sliced citrus fruit, all served on ice. We chose the 2017 Bonny Doon Vineyard Le Cigare Blanc Beeswax Vineyard Arroyo Seco, available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets, originally priced at $26, reduced to $12.99. A blend of 55 percent grenache blanc and 45 percent roussanne, it has a lemon-yellow color with a slight green tinge. To the nose, one would expect citric notes, but this wine has herbal notes, as well. To the tongue, the wine maintains those citric rind notes but there is also the addition of quince with a slight nuance of melon. It is a wine that can handle the addition of orange and lime slices and has enough body to accept the addition of seltzer and still hold a presence. This wine hails from the Beeswax Vineyard in the Arroyo Seco region of Monterey County, east of the Santa Lucia Mountains and north of King City, California. The Santa Lucia Mountains shield this area from the cool Pacific Coast winds, resulting in vines with exceedingly deep roots, imparting a minerality to the wine not found in the grapes grown on the ocean side of the mountainous range.

Our second beverage is a novel creation, the Domaine Chandon Garden Spritz, available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets at $20.99. The wine is a blend of chardonnay, pinot noir and semillon grapes grown at an altitude of 3,000 feet at their estate in Mendoza, Argentina. It is made by the slow-ferment long Charmat method, trapping the naturally occurring carbonation in large steel tanks. Bitters made from the zest of Valencia oranges, steeped in grape brandy, to which Quassia amara, chamomile, cardamom, and black pepper are added, result in this delightfully unique and refreshing sparkling wine cocktail. Domaine Chandon is marketing this concoction as a spritzer. Perhaps a bit of a reach, it is nonetheless worth trying, poured over ice with a citrus garnish. At 11.5 percent alcohol, it is more alcoholic than the spritzer made with seltzer, resulting in a fuller feel to the mouth of its citric notes, spiciness and sweetness, along with the bitterness of liquor made from the oranges and amara. This is definitely a thirst-quencher that is summer “light and bright.” This is a creation that begs to be tried before summer leaves us and the air becomes crisp with shorter days and crisp nights.

So, personalize your favorite white wine by turning it into a summer-light spritzer, or try this industry pioneer, the Garden Spritz. After all, summer in New Hampshire is way too short to not enjoy it to its fullest with these wonders of the palate.

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.

A man walks into a bar with a pineapple on his head.

The bartender asks, “Hey, what’s with the pineapple?”

The man says, “It’s Tuesday; I always wear a pineapple on Tuesday.”

The bartender thinks for a second, then points out, “Yeah, but it’s Thursday.”

The Pineapple Man slaps his palm to his face and groans. “Ugh! I can’t believe this; I’m so embarrassed.”

Did you find that joke a little frustrating and confusing? Welcome to the World of Pineapple.

Most of us have been there. You’ll be working your way through the supermarket, trying to decide what to make for dinner tomorrow night.

(You’ll probably go with meet-loaf. You spell it like that because you generally improvise it. Your mother never used a recipe for meatloaf, and pride or stubbornness or something keeps you from looking up an actual recipe for it, so you’ll end up winging it. Again. And like always, your husband or girlfriend will look at the vaguely loaf-shaped dish placed in front of them and ask, “Are you sure this is meatloaf?” And you’ll answer like you always do, “Yes, absolutely. Honey, meet Loaf.” It’s little traditions like this that relationships are founded on.)

Anyway, you’ll be walking through the produce section, eyeing the cilantro suspiciously, when your attention will be grabbed by a giant display of fresh pineapples. Overtaken by the Spirit of the Islands — Oahu, Easter, Coney: one of the islands — you will impulsively decide to buy one.

Until you pick it up and realize that you have no idea how to pick out a good one.

There is a lot of advice out there for picking a ripe pineapple and most of it is iffy at best. You’ll hear that you should try to pull one of the leaves out, or squeeze it, or heft it in your hand to see if it feels heavy for its size. (If you don’t know how to pick out a pineapple, how in the world are you supposed to decide if it’s heavy or not?)

In reality, your best options are to go by color and smell.

Color: Get the pineapple that is the closest to a shade of golden-orange as possible. This can occasionally be deceptive, but the deeper a shade of green a pineapple is, the more likely it is to be underripe.

A better guide is smell. Hold the pineapple in your hand, ignore the people around you and close your eyes. Imagine yourself somewhere warm and tropical. Imagine pushing yourself through the crowd at an outdoor market. Visualize an old man in a straw hat sitting next to a giant pile of pineapples warming in the sun. Imagine the smell that would come off them.

The pineapples, not the old man.

Now sniff your pineapple’s butt. Does it smell like that tropical marketplace? Even a little? If so, you’ve got your pineapple. If all you smell is your own rising sense of awkwardness and embarrassment, move on. (With all that said, you’ll probably have a better chance of scoring a good pineapple at an Asian or Latin market, where they cater to people who Know Their Pineapples, and who will not be trifled with.)

Ultimately, though, from a cocktail perspective, how much does this really matter?

Yes, you could get a great fresh pineapple, take it home, disassemble it and turn it into a Very Nice Drink. Or — and I’m just throwing ideas out, here — you could buy some of the pineapple that the people at the supermarket have already cut up for you, or even — stay with me — use canned pineapple. Once you’ve added lime juice and rum and a Spirit of Adventure, would you be able to tell the difference?

So I tried it out this afternoon. I made three identical drinks, using identical amounts of identical ingredients, except, of course, for the pineapple, and even shook them over identical amounts of ice for identical periods of time.

Using canned, precut, and fresh pineapple, was there a difference?

Yes.

Was it a Very Big Difference?

Not unless you had all three in front of you and could compare them. The fresh pineapple Aku-Aku (see below) was noticeably more subtle and pineapple-y than the other two, but the way I see it, an afternoon spent wrapping yourself around a pineapple drink — regardless of the pineapple you use — is better than an afternoon when you’ve deprived yourself of such a cocktail.

The Aku-Aku

• 5 1-inch cubes of pineapple — 85 grams, or 3 ounces
• 2 grams (.08 ounce) fresh mint leaves — around 2 Tablespoons
• 1 ounce fresh squeezed lime juice
• ½ ounce simple syrup
• ½ ounce peach brandy or schnapps
• 1½ ounce golden rum

Muddle the pineapple and mint together in the bottom of a cocktail shaker. Smash them together thoroughly. Really press the issue. Try not to splash yourself.

Add lime juice, syrup, brandy, rum and five ice cubes (around 80 grams). No, it really doesn’t matter how much ice you use, but since I had weighed it anyway, in the Name of Science, I thought I’d just put it out there.

Shake thoroughly for 30 seconds.

Strain into a coupe glass or other small, stemmed glass.

Face west-southwest — the direction of Polynesia — as you drink it.

You might be forgiven if you think this will be a fairly sweet drink — pineapple, plus peach brandy, plus simple syrup — but it’s a surprisingly refreshing and grown-up drink. The mint gives everything a faint hint of muskiness and sophistication. The glass’s stem keeps the drink cold. Your delightful personality and sense of inner peace keep the conversation excellent.

Take it from the houseplant I spent 20 minutes talking to after testing and drinking three of these.

Featured photo. The Aku-Aku. Photo by John Fladd.

Another reason to buy prosecco

Legend has it that the bellini was invented by Giuseppi Cipriani, owner of Harry’s Bar in Venice, Italy. Sometime between the mid-’30s and the mid-’40s he created this seasonal beverage made with puréed fresh Italian white peaches and prosecco, and as the legend states, he named the drink bellini as it reminded him of the peachy-pink color of a toga worn by a saint in a painting by Venetian artist Giovanni Bellini. The bellini has been selected by the International Bartenders Association (IBA) for use in the annual World Cocktail Competition (WCC) in bartending. There are variations to this blend, some of which call for the addition of mandarin orange juice, strawberry purée or pomegranate juice, but the peach purée reigns supreme when one thinks of the bellini.

Today it is easy enough to find several labels of prosecco, some relatively inexpensive and others a little pricier. The price points on most proseccos are generally accessible: from less than $10 per bottle to a little more than $25 per bottle. Several labels available in New Hampshire still come from Italy, but there is an increasing supply coming from California. As I am a firm believer that “life is too short to drink cheap wine,” I opt for the better quality, sometimes reflected in its price point.

Prosecco is made from a blend of grapes but the Italian varieties must contain at least 85 percent glera, with the rest being local and international varieties, including chardonnay, pinot blanco, pinot grigio and pinot noir. It is produced using the Charmat method: The base wine is produced, but instead of bottling, it is put into a sealed stainless steel tank, kept cool and under pressure to produce the effervescent bubbles. It is then filtered and bottled. This method of winemaking eliminates the second fermentation and riddling, the freezing and disgorging of the lees, and the addition of the dosage, or sweet wine — all the intensive work required of the Methode Traditionelle production of Champagne. With the Charmat method a small dosage of sweetened wine may be added, but this is added to the bulk wine before bottling. The bubbles of prosecco may be smaller, and the taste generally of more fruit than a sparkling wine produced by the Methode Traditionelle, but I like to think of this as a comparison of apples to oranges, a comparison a whole other column can be devoted to!

In making our bellinis, I selected the Santa Margherita Prosecco Di Valdobbiadene Superiore D.O.C.G. Brut, available at the New Hampshire Liquor and Wine Outlets, priced at $25.99, reduced to $19.99. This wine comes from the Conegliano-Valdobbiadene region of Veneto, Italy. It is made from 100 percent glera grapes. The winemakers allow the wine to sit on its lees for three months after fermentation, producing a creaminess not found in other proseccos I have tasted. The color is pale straw, the bubbles full, and to the nose there is citrus, peaches, pears and a touch of almond. To the tongue it is crisp and clean, with a fair amount of apple and more citrus. This is a delightful prosecco to sip enjoy with a meal or pair with a peach purée, to create a magnificent bellini!

Now, about the peach purée. It is tough to find! You can find it online, and Shaw’s sells a cocktail mixer, Stirrings Simple Peach Bellini, available at $7.99. This is a mixer created from real ingredients without preservatives; however, it is made from orange juice concentrate and peach purée. It’s pretty good and provides one with an easy recipe for that bellini: one part of the mix to four parts of prosecco, poured into a chilled Champagne flute. Doesn’t get much easier than that! But I have found I can create my own peach purée, by cutting an organic peach preserve with a little of the prosecco to create a purée, adding a couple of drops of lemon juice to cut the sweetness, then following through with the 4-to-1 recipe, or proportions to suit one’s taste. If you have the time and interest, you can create your own peach puree. All you need is a food processor or blender, a little sugar, honey or maple syrup, and of course fresh peaches. The concoction can be frozen!

This is a great libation for a hot summer afternoon. Slightly sweet and light in alcohol (the prosecco is typically 11 percent), it is a wonderful drink to impress your guests with your superior tastes and talents, and your impressive knowledge of wines and the history of cocktails. Enjoy the summer heat on your deck and patio with a cool bellini!

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.

“Hey, Susan.”

“Evenin’, Alice. The usual?”

“Please. Busy night?”

“Well, you know how it goes; everyone’s busy — kinda part of the job description — but they’re not busy here at the moment. What about you? Looks like you’ve had a rough one.”

“Ugh. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. You know Sylvia? The worker on Level Three? Yeah, anyway, she came in with a story about a case of strawberries that fell off the back of a truck and got smashed all over the highway. It sounded like a sweet gig — all the sugar, half the flying — so I shot out of here and went to find it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah, but I’m such a freakin’ genius that I didn’t wait around and watch her whole dance. It turns out she’s got a bit of an accent on account of she’s missing part of her left foreleg and I got the directions muddled. I ended up downtown at a dumpster behind a burger joint.”

“Oof! Sorry.”

“Well, it wasn’t so bad. It turns out there was a library about a block away with a window box full of geraniums, so I ended up meeting my quota.”

“That’s our girl! You always come through for us in the clutch.”

“Yeah, thanks, but it’s not getting any easier. I’m not two weeks old anymore.”

“Her Imperial Majesty should be pleased.”

“The Queen? Yeah, I hope so. You know, I met her once.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she’s really nice. Turns out her name is Betty. She likes showtunes.”

“Really? I’d’ve figured her for classical.”

“Nah! Our Betty’s real down-to-earth.”

“She’d kinda have to be, though; she doesn’t fly anymore — not since her mating flight. Wow! That was somethin’, huh?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it; a bit before my time, I’m afraid. Hey, set me up with another one, would ya, please?”

The Bee’s Knees

This is a classic cocktail from the 1920s. “The bee’s knees” was a catchy slang term of the time, describing something that was truly excellent, like “the cat’s pajamas” or “the elephant’s instep.” Not surprisingly, this is honey-based.

This is a type of drink I call a Basic Utility Cocktail. Margaritas, gimlets and classic daiquiris all follow a very similar recipe: roughly two ounces of a basic alcohol (blanco tequila, rum, gin, vodka, etc.), an ounce or so of syrup or sweet liqueur (this is where the triple sec or Grand Marnier would come into play in a margarita), and an ounce or so of a sour fruit juice (usually lemon or lime juice, but I’ve used cranberry juice, too). If you find yourself with too much fruit, it’s really easy to make it into a syrup to use in a seasonal drink. (Cucumbers work surprisingly well.)

Ingredients:

• 2 ounces very cold gin – depending on what type of honey you use, you might want to use something a little bracing and not too expensive. I’ve been enjoying Wiggly Bridge lately.
• ¾ ounce honey syrup (see below)
• ¾ ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice

Combine all ingredients over ice in a shaker.

Shake ever so hard, long enough for your hands to start hurting from the cold.

Strain into a small, stemmed glass — a coupé glass, maybe.

This is a seductive cocktail. The sweetness of the honey syrup contrasts with the acidity of the lemon juice. The gin adds a slight harshness to the background that keeps this drink from becoming frivolous. It is absolutely delicious, and the colder it is the more you find yourself wondering where your drink went, then making another. Appropriately for a bee-themed drink, this is a social cocktail; it facilitates conversation.

Honey Syrup

Bring equal parts honey and water to a boil over medium heat.

Let the mixture boil for a few seconds, to make sure that the honey is completely dissolved.

Cool and bottle. Store indefinitely in your refrigerator.

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.

Uncommon whites to go with your summer eats

It is summer and we remain in an extended heat wave. This is the season of “summer whites”— those lightweight clothes of whiter-than-white to reflect the heat of the summer sun. It is also the season of light meals — salads, sandwiches, cool entrées and desserts! And it is the season to pair light, white wines, the color of a sun-shading straw hat, with those meals.

We are always looking for something off the beaten track, wines other than chardonnays and sauvignon blancs, so we headed to the Loire Valley in France and, surprisingly, Napa Valley, to try a few whites made with other varietals.

Our first wine, the Domaine Bourillon Dorleans Premium Vouvray Brut (available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets, priced at $64.99, reduced to $23.99), is a delightful take on a crémant, which is sparkling wine not produced in Champagne and sometimes made with grapes other than chardonnay and pinot noir. It has a pale gold color; the bubbles are tiny and persistent. To the nose, there are citric notes with just a touch of yeast. To the tongue this bubbly is ripe with apple and honey while remaining crisp with acidity. The wine is made from 100 percent chenin blanc grapes from 30-year-old vines. It is made by the method Champenoise, with sur lie for 16 months, before being disgorged and re-corked. While crisp, this wine has a very subtle creaminess to it. Chilled, it is a perfect wine to be sipped, or joined to soft cheeses or a light meal.

Our second wine, the 2021 Pine Ridge Chenin Blanc + Viognier (priced at $17.99 but reduced to $15.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets), is a blend of 80 percent chenin blanc and 20 percent viognier. This wine is interesting in that I tend to think of chenin blanc as coming from the Loire Valley, which has a climate decidedly cooler than that of California. Because of the terroir and heat of the Valley, this wine is more expressive with notes of rich honeysuckle, orange blossoms and citric. These carry through to the tongue. In the glass, the wine has the palest of a light straw, almost silver, color. The inherent creaminess of the chenin blanc is emboldened in this wine, making it a great accompaniment to a frittata or a seafood tostada. It is indeed interesting seeing this wine come from a winery such as Pine Ridge, located in Stag’s Leap, Napa Valley, producing iconic cabernet sauvignons. This is a blend one would never see in France. The grapes for this wine come from the Sacramento River Delta, where 90-degree days are met with cool nights, producing a wine with lush flavors.

Our third wine, the 2019 Domaine Long-Depaquit Chablis (priced at $29.99, reduced to $27.99 and available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets), is a Burgundian chardonnay. This is a perfect wine to pair with grilled pork, salmon or tuna, shellfish, or mild cheeses if you cannot stand the prospect of cooking anything. The color is a pale greenish yellow. To the nose and tongue we find green apples, along with citric notes of lemon and lime with a slight trace of almonds, and that flinty earthiness that permeates the wines of Chablis. Chablis is the northernmost wine-growing region in Burgundy. The ancient soils of this region give its wines a distinctive minerality. This is a crisp, light wine that can make the summer heat tolerable.

Our fourth wine, a 2020 Joseph Drouhin Pouilly-Fuissé (priced at $31.99, reduced to $29.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets), is another chardonnay, but coming from vineyards in the villages of Pouilly and Fuissé, in the Mâconnaise subregion of Bourgogne, where the only grape variety grown is chardonnay. This wine is different from the others in that there is some barrel aging, six to eight months in the case of this wine, giving the wine a more “full-mouth-feel.” The color is golden, along with a slight green tinge. To the nose, green grapes and almonds abound; this is then carried through to the tongue. These are pleasant notes, not to be considered heavy, but instead ethereal, and with a long finish.

These are four wines that can satisfy every palate and yet are decidedly different from the mainstream everyday whites of chardonnay or pinot grigio. So, live dangerously! Try one of these alternative whites to pair with your summer evening meal. You will welcome the adventure!

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.

I’ve never been very good at meditating.

I had an instructor tell me once that it’s important to listen to your heartbeat or think very hard about your breathing. The way he put it, your brain is like a monkey that is always looking for something to do, so you need to distract it with counting and stuff.

“That makes sense,” I thought to myself. “Because, when you think about it, monkeys are pretty mystical creatures. It’s weird how wizards and witches have familiars and patronuses like cats or elk, because it would be really something to meditate and manifest a pack of angry mandrills. And actually, Angry Mandrill would be a really good name for a high-proof, banana-flavored rum. Maybe with chilies in it….”

And I missed another opportunity for self-enlightenment.

The only time I actually ever succeeded at meditating, it happened — as so many important things in life do — when I wasn’t trying to.

At one point in my youth, I found myself broke on the streets of Mombasa, on the East Coast of Africa. Well, not broke-broke — not George Orwell broke — but not in a position to be picky about my hotel accommodations. Somehow, I found myself surprised at how hot and humid it was. This should not have been much of a shock, as I was on the Equator, about a mile from the Indian Ocean, but The Obvious has always been a bit of a blind spot for me.

I needed someplace to stay, and I followed a couple of German backpackers to a not-quite-scary, kind-of-OK-if-you-squinted-at-it-hard-enough hotel. I managed to score a room for a couple of dollars a night.

(As it turned out, the reason the cheapest room was so cheap was that its window was right next to the loudspeaker of the mosque next door that called worshipers to prayer at five each morning. But that’s another story.)

Obviously, my room didn’t have anything like air conditioning — though there was a large ceiling fan over my bed — and I didn’t have any money to go out at night, but that was OK, because the sheer, overwhelming heat and humidity sucked away any enthusiasm I might have had to do anything anyway.

For two nights, I lay on my bed all night, under the fan sweating.

I kept two or three liters of water by the bed and I would alternate sweating and drinking, drinking and sweating. Taking in water, and feeling it seep back out of me. Over and over again.

It was the single most meditative experience of my life.

So, as I look at the weather forecast for the next week, with temperatures and humidity predicted to be in the 90s, I find myself somewhat uncharacteristically nostalgic for Mombasa.

Mombasa Michelada

A michelada is a Mexican beer cocktail. Many people make theirs very much like a bloody mary, with tomato or even clam juice, spices and sometimes an extra shot of tequila. I like mine a little on the lighter side to facilitate the whole meditative sweating thing.

1 lime wedge and some chili-lime spice to rim the edge of your glass or mug. I like Tajin.

2 oz. passion fruit cocktail – you can find this on the top shelf in the juice aisle at your supermarket

• ½ teaspoon hot sauce – I like Cholula
• ½ teaspoon miso paste
• A pinch of celery salt
• A pinch of black pepper
• A handful of torn and mangled cilantro leaves
• A bottle of Pilsner or lager beer – you can’t go wrong with something Mexican like Modelo

Rub the rim of your glass with your lime wedge, then set it aside for your garnish. Sprinkle some of your chili-lime powder on a plate and touch the rim of your glass down in it to rim the edge of the glass.

Chop or tear your cilantro and put it in the bottom of your glass. This is optional, if you are one of those people who think it tastes like soap, but it is highly recommended.

Fill the glass halfway with ice. This is somewhat heretical; you have been warned.

In a separate dish or cup, mix the hot sauce, miso, celery salt and pepper into a paste. Slowly mix in the passion fruit juice, until it is all smoothly mixed. Pour the mixture into your glass.

Fill the glass with beer and garnish with your lime wedge. Stir gently.

Beer, spice and acidity are excellent playmates. This is a surprisingly meditative drink.

Hmm. Delicious, but maybe a bit strong — add more beer.

Oh, that’s good! But now the cilantro is taking over a little — add a little more juice.

Repeat.

I’m not saying that this experience will be the same as lying under a fan on the equator, counting the cracks in the ceiling, but I recommend it anyway.

Featured photo. Mombasa Michelada. Photo by John Fladd.

Think pink to pair with summer meals

It’s summer and it’s hot! Summer arrived on June 21, and except for just a couple of days when we experienced some relief, it’s been hot. Summer is the season when we move outdoors. We mow the lawn, clean out the planting beds, fire up the barbecue and spend as much time as we can outdoors.

We are blessed to be in New England where we can enjoy the change of seasons. Fall brings along its cooler temperatures, where cabernets are brought to the table to pair with steaks or pasta. Winter has us playing in the snow or on the ice, to be followed by robust food paired to deep, heavy reds. Summer is the time to enjoy the abundance of the ocean with fish, seafood and farm-fresh vegetables paired to white wines — or, better, rosés!

For this column I decided to try rosés sourced from three different locations: Italy, France, and two from California. The differences were amazing.

Our first, a 2020 Pasqua Y By 11 Minutes Rosé,available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets, originally priced at $34.99, reduced to $16.99, heralds from Verona, Italy, the land of Romeo and Juliet. Starting in 1925 as négociants, or traders of wines, the Pasqua brothers shortly became vineyard owners. Three generations later the company has entered the international market, selling wines in 50 countries. A blend of corvina, which offers hints of cherry and herbs, trebbiano, which brings elegance and a long finish, syrah, which brings intense fruit and spice, and carmenere, which brings the wine structure and stability, this is a wine with an intense and complex bouquet. The name 11 Minutes refers to the duration of the skin contact with the juice, then pressed softly prior to fermentation. The Pasqua family believes this is the optimal length of time to extract the best qualities of the grapes and obtain the slightly rosy shade of this wine. The must is then cooled and transferred to a steel tank, where it remains for 11 hours for the solids to settle out, then is inoculated with yeast for fermentation to begin. After 3 to 4 months on lees, the wine is filtered, bottled and ready at the first of the year.

Our second wine, a 2020 Thierry Delauney Le Manoir Rosé, alsoavailable at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets, originally priced at $39.99, reduced to $10.99, comes from the Loire River Valley. The wineries are located on hilltops, high above the north bank of the river. Composed of 70 percent gamay and 30 percent pineau d’Aunis, also known as chenin noir, this is a wine that is delicate, creamy, with notes of red currant and raspberry. The Thierry Delaunay vineyards have been cultivated for five generations of the same family, but only since the 1970s has the family also bottled the wine extracted from these vineyards, which has become highly rated.

We don’t often think of it, but California produces some pretty good rosés. Our 2019 La Crema Monterey County Pinot Noir Rosé, originally priced at $24.99, reduced to $11.99, and our 2020 Longford Estate Pinot Noir Rosé, originally priced at $12.00, reduced to $6.99, both from the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets, are outstanding examples of light, bright rosés at exceptional values. The La Crema rosé has aromas of mandarin oranges that carry through to the tongue. The Longford rosé has notes of watermelon and strawberries and is pretty good slightly, but not overly chilled. Perfect for the patio table.

These are all light, dry wines that pair well with soft cheeses and seafood, or can just be enjoyed with a summer green salad. Give them a try and compare the different blends by their color, their aromas, and the subtleties in taste, because as we have noted in the past, the grapes and the places of their origin contribute to a wealth of nuances. Not all rosés are created equal. And that’s great news!

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.