Cocktailians

Agog over eggnog

(NOTE: I wrote this for CNN.com's former, much missed food blog Eatocracy - originally published in December 2010. I've gone back and updated the links as much as I could. My thanks as ever to the great Kat Kinsman, now executive features editor at Food & Wine, for publishing this and other Eatocracy pieces.)

December 24 is National Eggnog Day.

The holiday season is far too often a contentious time: which set of relatives to visit, who to host, how to navigate schlepping to all the parties, white or colored lights, whether you put a star or an angel on top of the tree. For my money, one of the most divisive issues is that of eggnog.

Yes, eggnog. It can vary wildly in textures and flavors. Everyone's familiar with the annato-colored, too-thick pasteurized sludge sold in cartons in the grocery store. When I bought that stuff, I would cut it with milk, as I kept envisioning that goo going straight into my arteries, exactly the same consistency as it came out of the carton. It didn't actually make it any healthier, but it wasn't quite as gooey. We've heard about the history of eggnog, but what's the best recipe for making your own as well as all the equally tasty variations?

In one corner: my favorite recipe for eggnog. Cocktail blogger/author/ace bartender Jeffrey Morgenthaler's basic recipe is simple, fairly light in texture and has an intense, eggy flavor tempered with brandy and spiced rum. You make it in the blender, and it's a snap to put together. Just don't use a commercial blender, as it can heat the contents. Sweet scrambled eggs don't make a tasty holiday treat.

In the other corner: my mother. Her favorite recipe is from Mary Meade's Kitchen Companion by Ruth Ellen Church, published by the Chicago Tribune in 1955. (My mother used to work for the Trib's food section, and many of our favorite family dishes come from the recipe files there.) This is heavier and rich, and the orange liqueur really brings out a nice spin on the traditional eggnog taste. (You also want to plan ahead with this one, as it's best when made 24 hours in advance.)

Old-School Eggnog

• 6 large egg yolks
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 cup rum
• 1 cup orange liqueur (I'd recommend Grand Marnier, as it's made with a Cognac base)
• 1/2 cup Cognac or other brandy
• 1 1/2 quarts milk
• 3 cups whipping cream, whipped
• 6 large egg whites, beaten stiff but not dry
• Nutmeg to taste

In a large mixer bowl, beat egg yolks until very thick, light, and lemon-colored. Gradually beat in sugar. Gradually beat in rum, orange liqueur, and Cognac. Refrigerate 1 hour, stirring occasionally.

Beat egg whites until stiff but not dry and beat whipping cream. Add milk slowly to egg yolks. Fold in whipped cream and beaten egg whites. Store covered in refrigerator at least 1 day before serving. Fold risen whites and cream through before serving and sprinkle with nutmeg.

This business of separating the egg whites from the yolks is an old one, going back to the 19th century at least. In the 1862 edition of How to Mix Drinks, or the Bon-Vivant's Companion, the first American bartending book, ur-bartender Jerry Thomas gives a recipe for Tom & Jerry, which he refers to as his own invention. However, as beverage historian and mixologist David Wondrich points out in his book Imbibe!, similar recipes saw print as early as 1827, and there are multiple references to Tom & Jerry throughout the 1830s and 1849s in various New England publications.

But what is Tom & Jerry? Let's let Damon Runyon describe:

This hot Tom and Jerry is an old time drink that is once used by one and all in this country to celebrate Christmas with, and in fact it is once so popular that many people think Christmas is invented only to furnish an excuse for hot Tom and Jerry, although of course this is by no means true.

This hot eggnog variation was all the rage throughout the second half of the 19th century. As Wondrich puts it in Imbibe!:

From after the Civil War until the late 1880s, come the cold weather in October or November, every saloon worth wrecking with a hatchet would get down the china Tom & Jerry bowl . . .and the newspapers would start making spavined jokes about Thomas and Jeremiah, 'two well-known sports' who had just showed up in town and 'whose acquaintance should not be cultivated too deeply.'

The drink fell out of favor eventually, and the New York Sun declared it "to have vanished as absolutely as the dodo" by 1902. (The Sun was wrong, incidentally - people still drink Tom & Jerry in parts of the Midwest, and you can even get premixed versions in Wisconsin.)

As noted above, you separate the yolks and whites and make a kind of batter with the yolks, sugar, spices, and booze. Then you beat the whites and fold them into the batter. To serve, dollop a generous teaspoon of the batter into a mug, add rum and brandy and top with not-quite-boiling milk. A lot of work? Sure. Festive? Indubitably. I like the "Tom & Jerry & Audrey", the variation by Audrey Saunders of New York's Pegu Club. (I'd also follow Jerry Thomas's recommendation of adding some cream of tartar to stabilize the egg whites - a teaspoon per batch should do it.) (scratch that - Audrey has said it's not necessary and that the batter is actually easier to work with once it collapses.)

There are many other variations on eggnog: Melissa Clark recently published a Butterscotch Scotch Eggnog in the New York Times, and a custard version. The Times also compiled some more variations here.

And I would be remiss if I didn't mention coquito, a Puerto Rican eggnog-like drink made with coconut milk. (I don't even especially like coconut, but must admit to appreciating the old Pepsi bottle full of coquito that one of my girlfriend's colleagues sneaked her last year.) Coquito is a big deal in some places - the International Coquito Federation, together with El Museo del Barrio in New York City, is even hosting its 9th annual Coquito Tasting Contest this Saturday, where they will confer the much-sought-after title of Coquito Master.

And it's not a nog, but there's the thick, creamy Middle Eastern beverage sahlep (aka salep or sahlab), which is made with milk and powdered orchid root. Street vendors in Istanbul sell servings of sahlep from backpack-mounted hammered-copper tanks, and the hot, sweet, cinnamon-y concoction is just the thing on a cold day. You can find sahlep powder in Middle Eastern specialty stores.

Another variation combines a couple of holiday tastes: eggnog and mulled cider. It sounds odd, but none other than President William Henry Harrison was reportedly a fan of an egg shaken up with hard cider and a bit of sugar. The combination is surprisingly good, with the egg adding richness to the cider's acid bite. A couple of years ago, I tinkered with the ingredients a little while keeping the egg and cider underpinnings, and came up with the festive Tippecanoe Sparkler:

Tippecanoe Sparkler

• 1/2 oz. rum
• 1/2 oz. brandy
• 1/2 oz. allspice dram
• 1 large egg
• 2 dashes bitters
• sparkling cider

Shake all ingredients except the cider with ice, and strain into a chilled flute. Top up with cider and stir gently. Garnish with grated nutmeg and/or star anise.

 

And, I've saved the best, or at least one of my favorites, for last. My grandmother didn't make eggnog, but she did make Southern Boiled Custard. (Custards differ from classic eggnogs in that the eggs are cooked.) This custard is a beverage, not a set custard as in a custard pie, but it's still rich and wonderful.

 

Grandma Bonnie's Southern Boiled Custard

• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 tbsp flour
• 1 quart milk
• Whiskey

Beat eggs well; add sugar and flour and mix together till smooth. Stir in milk and cook very slowly over low heat (a double boiler is great if you have one large enough) until mixture almost boils and thickens. Add dash or two of nutmeg and whiskey to taste. (When my late grandmother served this to me as a kid, there was needless to say no whiskey included. I was surprised to discover it in the recipe now!) Serve warm in glass or cup, and optionally top with whipped cream.

Incidentally, all of these festive holiday drinks benefit from some freshly grated nutmeg sprinkled on top. And you don't even have to worry about the hallucinogenic properties thereof - just make the portions reasonable.

Cheers to Repeal Day!

(NOTE: I wrote this for CNN.com's former, much missed food blog Eatocracy, published on this day in 2012. I've gone back and updated the links as much as I could. My thanks as ever to the great Kat Kinsman, now executive features editor at Food & Wine, for publishing this and other Eatocracy pieces.)

At 5:31 p.m. Eastern, raise a glass to the decades that have elapsed since the 21st Amendment to the Constitution was ratified, officially ending 13 years of Prohibition and re-legalizing the production, purchase and consumption of alcohol in the United States.

"What America needs now is a drink," quipped President Franklin D. Roosevelt when Ohio, Pennsylvania and Utah ratified the 21st Amendment on December 5, 1933.

Of course, numerous "speakeasies" - named because patrons often had to whisper a password through a locked door to gain admittance - sprung up in Prohibition's wake. Police Commissioner Grover Whalen estimated that New York alone had over 32,000 speakeasies, and the neo-speakeasy fad persists in cocktail bars. (You can also drink in bars that were speakeasies in the '20s and '30s and that are still serving today.)

Other things arose out of Prohibition, including the real creativity with which determined drinkers evaded the law. Popular songs of the era just before Prohibition included "What'll We Do On A Saturday Night (When The Town Goes Dry)," "Everybody Wants A Key To My Cellar" and even Irving Berlin's "You Cannot Make Your Shimmy Shake On Tea."

Prescriptions for alcohol for medicinal use skyrocketed. Owners of shuttered breweries and wineries winkingly sold malt syrup and other items for home alcohol production, such as the Vino Santo Grape Brick, described by historian Daniel Okrent as "a solid, dehydrated block of grape juice concentrate. . .it came in a printed wrapper instructing the purchaser to add water to make grape juice, but to be sure not to add years or sugar, or leave it in a dark place...because 'it might ferment and become wine.'"

An ad for the Grape Brick in the November 1931 issue of Popular Mechanics offered them in "Port, sherry, Champagne, claret, etc." flavors.

Flasks were disguised as books ("The Four Swallows" by one J.B. Corn), and cocktail shakers masqueraded as trophies:

On the darker side, Prohibition also enabled bootleggers, corruption and violence, and enforcement cost the government staggering sums. Widespread public sentiment began to shift against Prohibition when a Michigan woman was sentenced to life in prison for selling two pints of moonshine, and cash-strapped governments hit hard by the Great Depression were desperate for the increased tax revenue that legalized alcohol would bring. In April 1933, Congress legalized low-alcohol 3.2% beer, and Repeal Day would come eight months later.

In his book, "Last Call: The Rise and Fall of Prohibition," Daniel Okrent writes that:

in almost every respect imaginable, Prohibition was a failure. It encouraged criminality and institutionalized hypocrisy. It deprived the government of revenue, stripped the gears of the political system, and imposed profound limitations on individual rights.

Okrent also points out that as a direct result of Prohibition, Americans consumed far less liquor after Repeal than they had before 1920. Repeal replaced "the almost-anything-goes ethos with a series of state-by-state codes, regulations, and enforcement procedures," he writes, and it was actually more difficult to get a drink after Prohibition than it had been during it. 

The Distilled Spirits Council, a trade organization representing liquor producers, produced ProhibitionRepeal.com (no longer extant) to raise awareness of Prohibition. Ben Jenkins of the Council notes that "12 states continue to ban Sunday spirits sales, and 6 states continue to ban spirits tastings. . .Prohibition-era laws make no sense in a modern economy, and that's why policymakers around the country are striking them down for good." Others link the government's ban on alcohol with its ban on marijuana, calling it a modern-day Prohibition that has similarly led to smuggling and organized crime.

The beverage alcohol industry in America is huge now, and it obviously owes its success to Repeal. (As does NASCAR; today's stock cars are the descendants of bootleggers' souped-up rides used to outrun the revenuers.) And even the drugstore business soared with the widespread prescription of "medical" alcohol - Walgreens went from 20 stores in 1920 to 525 in 1929. Soft drink sales rose as well, as mixed drinks became more in vogue.

As cocktail historian David Wondrich writes, "Prohibition, in short, was not a good time for the discerning drinker. . .The bartender's art was directed toward covering the taste of bad liquor, not enhancing the taste of good."

How will you celebrate Repeal Day? Why not have a Prohibition-era cocktail? The Bee's Knees is easy, delicious, and you're drinking history.

The Bee's Knees

• 2 oz. gin (bathtub or otherwise)
• 3/4 oz. fresh-squeezed lemon juiceThe bart
• 1/2 oz. honey syrup (made by mixing equal parts honey and hot water, stirring until dissolved)

Shake all ingredients well over ice, strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with a lemon twist.

Or, people who drank during Prohibition were called "scofflaws," a word coined in 1924 by a contest sponsored by the Anti-Saloon League. A few days after the word was first published, Harry's New York Bar in Paris debuted the Scofflaw Cocktail:

Scofflaw

• 1.5 oz. rye whisky
• 1 oz. dry vermouth
• 1/2 oz. lemon juice
• Scant 1/2 oz. grenadine
• 1 dash orange bitters

Shake all ingredients with ice, strain into a chilled cocktail glass, and garnish with a lemon wedge.

In a brief back and forth on Bluesky today, Matthew Rowley and Becky Harris responded to my posting the original version of this piece, saying:

Trivia: Just Images Barware Part 2 (Recap)

Here's the second part of the Just Images Barware trivia post, in which I recap the quiz and expound on what I learned when I was writing and researching it.

(If you haven't looked at the quiz yet, go here and check it out, then meet me back here. It'll make more sense.)

1.    Some drinks (Hurricanes, Zombies, Margaritas, Collinses, and others) are traditionally served in their own glassware. What capital drink is shown here? 

Click here

Answer: MOSCOW MULE

Correct Answer % at LearnedLeague: 96

I wanted to kick off the quiz with a pretty easy one - of the drinks with their own glassware, perhaps the most tied to its servingware is the Moscow Mule. It’s got great visual appeal, and like a Mojito, when you see a tray of them making their way across a crowded bar, you just want to order your own.

The origins of the Moscow Mule are, like lots of cocktail origin stories, murky - by definition, everyone involved was drinking. It was popularized at the Cock & Bull restaurant & bar in LA, but stories vary widely on whether it was invented there by a bartender hoping to move more of their homemade ginger beer, or cooked up at New York’s Chatham Hotel by a Smirnoff executive in conjunction with the Cock & Bull owner and a Heublein executive. Stories also vary on the origins of the serving ware, but all seem to center around someone trying to move a shipment of copper mugs. And of course, you absolutely must serve the drink in the copper mug…especially if you listen to people who sell copper mugs.

There aren’t a lot of classic cocktails made with vodka (which was, up until 2020, legally required to be free of “distinctive character, aroma, taste, or color”). The Moscow Mule was essentially based on the Mamie Taylor, which uses Scotch instead of vodka, and can be described as a Scotch rickey with ginger beer. (It’s also refreshing and delightful.) Other variations on the Moscow Mule have followed - the Kentucky Mule uses bourbon, the Gin Mule is self-explanatory, et cetera. (Wikipedia has a long list.) I favor Audrey Saunders’ Gin-Gin Mule which adds mint and drags it in the Mojito direction.

I made a note for scorers to accept other MULE variations, as a lot of these will come in the mugs as well. I also had scorers accept BUCK and variations thereof - as ace bartender Jim Meehan has noted, a buck is a highball with ginger ale and lime, though some others have drawn a distinction between ginger ale and ginger beer, holding that a buck has ginger ale while a mule has ginger beer.

Interestingly enough, at one point Smirnoff moved away from the ginger beer/buck distinction and redefined the "Smirnoff Mule" which consisted of Smirnoff vodka, lime, and...7-Up. They even came up with a jingle (recorded by Skitch Henderson and Carmen McRae) and accompanying dance!

 

2.    What spirit is traditionally prepared using these somewhat misleadingly named "fountains"?

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Answer: ABSINTHE

Correct Answer %: 73

Yes, these are absinthe fountains, which don’t dispense absinthe themselves - they are designed to veeeeeerrrrryyyy slowly drip ice-cold water onto a sugar cube suspended over a glass of absinthe (on an absinthe spoon/grille), in the old French ritual method of absinthe preparation:

(I won’t speak of the Czech absinthe “ritual” involving setting the sugar cube on fire, or any of the other myths surrounding absinthe.)

Absinthe, like many other anise-flavored spirits and liqueurs, turns milky-white when water is added, a phenomenon known as “la louche” or the “ouzo effect.” The fountains’ measured drizzle means you can very carefully calibrate the speed at which this happens in your glass.

I asked scorers to accept PASTIS, because it is also French/Swiss in origin like absinthe, and is also traditionally drunk by diluting it with water. Despite the name of the “ouzo effect,” I don’t believe the fountains are typically used for it, so I asked scorers to not accept OUZO, or the similar AGUARDIENTE, SAMBUCA, ANISETTE, ARAK, or RAKI.

 

3.    This variety of citrus squeezer is sometimes known as the Mexican __________. What body part's name fills in the blank?

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Answer: ELBOW

Correct Answer %: 50

I don't know if this type of juicer originated in Mexico but I believe it's called an "elbow" due to it looking like an arm with a joint in the middle. They certainly sell them in the Mexican-products aisle of my local grocery store.

It is a hand-operated juicer, but I’ve never heard it referred to as a “Mexican hand”, to address one of the more common wrong answers.

 

4.    Don't get mixed up when making cocktails. Some drinks call for citrus or herbs to be pressed in the mixing glass or shaker to release their flavorful oils. What's the name of the tool that's used for this?

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Answer: MUDDLER

Correct Answer %: 86

These are all muddlers. As with all bar gear, they can take different forms, but I go for an unfinished wood muddler (you don’t want flakes of varnish in your drink) for muddling mint and other herbs, when you want to lightly press them (don’t hammer the bejeezus out of them, as they’ll turn bitter) against the sides of the glass. For muddling citrus to extract their peels’ oils, I tend to use one with a diamond-patterned hard plastic head so I can really grind the peels onto the sharp sugar crystals.

I get the thinking with “pestle”, but my favorite wrong answer was “confuser.” Barkeep! A lightly confused julep over here!

 

5.    A _________ bag is a canvas bag used for crushing ice.

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Answer: LEWIS

Correct Answer %: 13

A fairly quick and easy way to crush ice is with a Lewis bag - the canvas tends to wick away moisture and leave you with relatively dry ice. Plus, they’re fun to use - grab a mallet and whale away at the bag and pulverize your frustrations - then you’re set for a cobbler or julep.



Speaking of juleps, it’s always fun to link to this amazing video of master bartender Chris McMillian putting a Lewis bag to its best use.

Despite the high volume of of Mint Juleps he makes on a daily basis, McMillian hand-crushes ice per order using an oversized wooden mallet and a canvas Lewis bag, which he believes results in a much drier ice as the bag wicks away most of the extraneous water. There’s also no denying the element of theater involved in wielding a giant wooden mallet. “We could argue that my single greatest contribution to the global cocktail movement, whether people believe it or not, is the revival of the Lewis bag and mallet, which I’ve been doing for 20 years now,” says McMillian.

Why is it called a Lewis bag? Who was Lewis? Simply put: no one knows. As drinks writer Robert Simonson noted, while bartenders absolutely crushed ice in cloth long ago, no one apparently sold the canvas bags or gave them the “Lewis” moniker until the late 1990s, when Franmara started selling theirs.

 

6.    These tools for measuring liquid ingredients are available in many different designs. What are they known as?

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Answer: JIGGER(S)

Correct Answer %: 86

Jiggers for measuring cocktail ingredients can take many forms - for home use, I’m partial to the little Oxo 2-ounce angled measuring cup (in which I’ve scratched a ¾-oz measurement) or the Standard Spoon recreation of the antique stepped-sided Napier jigger. Lots of people like the double-ended hourglass variety, in conical, bell-shaped, or elongated Japanese styles. I think tipping jiggers are interesting, and the one at lower left in this image is a “pony” jigger.

Trivia: Just Images Barware Part 1 (The Questions)

Similar to the brandy, rum, and gin trivia quizzes I wrote for the world's best online trivia league in past years, a few months ago I wrote a quiz of images of barware. I thought readers may be interested, so I'll include the questions and answers here.

I was chuffed that 1430 people played this...and now you can too! (N.B.: These questions were written for a general audience; most committed cocktailians will likely find the bulk of them to play pretty easy.)

I've obscured the answers by putting them in white text on a white background; just highlight the area between the brackets to see what's there. In a couple days I'll make another post with my recap notes, color, history, and whatever else I found interesting when I was researching these. Here's that recap.

1.    Some drinks (Hurricanes, Zombies, Margaritas, Collinses, and others) are traditionally served in their own glassware. What capital drink is shown here?

[MOSCOW MULE]

 

2.    What spirit is traditionally prepared using these somewhat misleadingly named "fountains"?

[ABSINTHE]

 

3.    This variety of citrus squeezer is sometimes known as the Mexican __________. What body part's name fills in the blank?

[ELBOW]

 

4.    Don't get mixed up when making cocktails. Some drinks call for citrus or herbs to be pressed in the mixing glass or shaker to release their flavorful oils. What's the name of the tool that's used for this?

[MUDDLER]

 

5.    A _________ bag is a canvas bag used for crushing ice.

[LEWIS]

 

6.    These tools for measuring liquid ingredients are available in many different designs. What are they known as?

[JIGGER(S)]

 

Bury the Lede

One of my favorite public figures working these days is Dessa. I describe her as a "public figure" because she's such an interesting polymath: she's an amazing musician (singer and rapper), a soulful, funny writer and poet, a thoughtful (and thought-provoking) podcast host, an engaging speaker, a riveting performer, even an impressive baker! (I bet she's double-jointed and makes great soup and is an excellent bowler as well.) She describes herself as having "quick wit, sharp pen, soft heart," and I think she's endlessly fascinating and just the bee's knees.

But why am I writing about her here? Because a couple of days ago, she published "Bury the Lede: A Cocktail Book" (Doomtree Press, $19.95). The title is drawn from her most recent album, Bury the Lede. In the book, she combines essays about songcraft with a drink recipe themed to each of the album's tracks. It's a really interesting approach. For the drinks, she worked with Marco Zappia, the Twin Cities barman (described herein as "beverage maverick") behind Colita and Martina—who makes "the most fun cocktails in America" according to Esquire—to develop and refine the recipes. The book is a gorgeous object as well, a slim hardback volume with stunning photography by Bill Phelps. 

Aside from the wide-ranging drinks and other nuggets of lore and information sprinkled throughout the book (we'll get to those), one of my favorite parts of the book is the authorial voice; Dessa's tone is always conversational, direct, wry, and self-aware; she's knowledgeable, shares credit easily, and isn't afraid of being goofy. She begins with a paean to amateurism and its freedoms: "You get to learn only what delights you and leave the rest to the pros." In a great interview with the Minnesota Star-Tribune, she expands on this idea: "Anytime I see someone who’s excellent with what they do, I wonder if there’s any way we can work together. I’m an eager collaborator who’s most graceful when I’m collaborating with people whose skill sets are different from mine because I don’t get a chance to get territorial." Her past collaborations have led her to neuroscientists, ice cream makers, and the Minnesota Orchestra (and she's no stranger to the booze business as well, working with RockFilter Distillery on Dessa's Time and Distance organic bourbon and Dessa's Hand Shadow organic rye.) 

The essays on craft provide a glimpse of how these songs and tracks come together, and tie in nicely with the drinks. For example, "Hurricane Party," the first track on Bury the Lede, was inspired by the actual hurricane parties people throw in New Orleans, hunkering down together to weather the storm:

I wrote Bury the Lede when it seemed like all the news was bad. The pandemic was tapering but still scary; the tenor of TV news felt apocalyptic; and it seemed everywhere an urgent need was going unmet. The hurricane party metaphor felt particularly apt. . .I think decency asks us to share some resources when we’ve got ’em. But also, flex and revel while you can. Being alive is a temporary state of affairs, so maybe grab a drink with bubbles in it.

As Zappia tells it, the song's opening lines, "Fill the kiddie pool/Up with prosecco" immediately suggested a sparkling drink à la the French 75, but the mention of "hurricane" and the nod to NOLA took him to the famously potent Pat O'Brien's drink. The "Hurricane Party" drink combines the two, and in a nifty little lagniappe, matches the seafoam green of the Bury the Lede cover art.

Each drink's essay and recipe are followed by another short, informative "Cocktail Crash Course" essay explaining one of the finer points of bartending. In "Hurricane Party"'s, Dessa passes on a brief description of why you shake cocktails (cooling, dilution, mixing), adds the pro tip that you can hear when you've shaken a drink long enough, and notes that drinks that will be diluted further only require a "short shake." 

(Can I also add that it's so refreshing to read a drinks book that doesn't have the exact same introductory chapter on equipment and basic technique that is seemingly in almost every other cocktail book out there? They're ubiquitous, seemingly identical, and dullsville.) I also like that this book is written from the perspective of an amateur enthusiast—working along a professional drinkmaker, to be sure—but that it drops some really wide-ranging knowledge on how good drinks are made and served.

For a book that contains twelve main recipes, they cover a lot of ground and go to some interesting places. "Chopper" is a bittersweet pop song, so the drink is a pink bittersweet spritz. Pictured on the book cover, it's a variation on a Negroni Sbagliato, but adds a cucumber oleo saccharum and is garnished (if you really wanna wow your guests) with a bitters-sprayed bouquet of dried flowers. Impressive. "Tell Me Again" incorporates vodka, Calpico, nocino (and they provide a recipe for DIY nocino as well!), sake, and a sea salt rim. "I Already Like You" is a chocolate-hazelnut egg cream, which arrives with the excellent, excellent suggestion that you spike it with Amaro Montenegro. Gin Martinis make a couple appearances: batched in the freezer in "Crash," and as deconstructed jello shots in "What If I'm Not Ready." There's a coquito variation and a milk-washed tea-infused whiskey sour. 

I like what they did for the "Twelve to One":

The cocktail—using the term loosely here— for this song is drawn verbatim from the second verse, so Marco cannot be held liable for its lack of sophistication.

Oreos and bourbon / I rent a movie and I watch it in bed / That’s a B+ Thursday / and the past stays asleep in my head. . .

Any of [the Oreo] varieties pairs respectably with bourbon, though I’d offer that Double Stuf evokes an air of sleepover indulgence that’s well suited to a self-administered weeknight remedy.

And the drink is simply that: a slug of bourbon and a Double Stuf Oreo. But they also drop a recipe for the "B+ Old-Fashioned," which includes Dessa's Oreo bitters and is garnished with an Oreo. These bitters are great and I'm looking forward to trying them in some other drinks, but this was a fine Old-Fashioned:

B+ Old-Fashioned

• 1¾ oz. bourbon (Dessa digs Belle Meade, RockFilter, Dickel, and High West; I used Four Roses Small Batch Select)
• 1 tsp Demerara syrup (Dessa specifies 1:1; I only had rich Demerara on hand and used that)
• 2 dashes Dessa's Oreo bitters (blend an Oreo cookie with 1½ oz. Angostura bitters, let sit for an hour, strain)
• 1 Oreo (preferably Double Stuf)

Stir all the ingredients with ice, then strain into a double Old-Fashioned glass over one large ice cube. Garnish with the Oreo.

The Strib asked Dessa and Zappia what the surprise hit was for them, and their answer was one of the most intriguing ones for me as well:

MZ: I would marry the Martini. My mistress would be the Negroni. But the “Rothko” is so much fun and surprising. That drink is coffee and Campari. You wouldn’t think those two things would be a good combo, but it’s loud and loud, and the dilution of it is super fun.

D: It’s so clever. I’m most excited for people to see the Rothko because it’s so stunning and it’s a flex – here’s two flavors that are really difficult in your imagination to combine well and in a glass are surprisingly alchemic.

Stylistically, Bury the Lede goes in many different directions: rap bangers, pop songs, playful disco-ish beats, and mood pieces. "Rothko," the album closer, starts out as a sad, disconnected song with a spare, dark groove, before dissolving into an unusual, powerful coda with layered vocal harmonies. From the book:

“There is only one thing I fear in life, my friend: One day the black will swallow the red.” That’s a quote often attributed to the painter Mark Rothko. I don’t think he actually said it, though; near as I can tell, it was written as a line for a play that chronicled his life. All the same, it knocks me out. That fear of the vital thing being snuffed out—well, it’s a reasonable one for mortals like us. . .

The pigment cadmium red, mentioned at the end of the song, is an artists’ favorite for its brilliance. But it’s also toxic—good for the painting, tough on the painter. To design the Rothko cocktail, Marco cued into the colors of the song and developed an ambitious concept of his own: a drink that changes colors as it develops. As the coffee ice melts into the crimson-colored bitter aperitivo (a dynamite flavor pairing), black finally swallows the red.

My photo is nowhere near Bill Phelps' amazing Rothkoesque depiction of the drink, but I really enjoyed this Americano variation.

Rothko

• 3 cubes coffee ice (To make coffee ice, freeze leftover brewed coffee or cold brew in ice cube trays. I used decaf.)
• 1 oz. red bitter aperitivo (we dig Campari, Aperol, or Cappelletti; I used Campari)
• 1 oz. sweet vermouth (we dig Cocchi Vermouth di Torino or Punt e Mes; I used Dolin)
• 2 oz. cold seltzer

In a Collins glass, add the coffee ice cubes, then top with regular ice cubes. Add the red bitter and the sweet vermouth. Top with seltzer and stir briefly.

Chartreuse Paris-Vauvert

About a year ago, Chartreuse Diffusion, the company that markets the famous herbal liqueur, opened a visitor's center and tasting room in the heart of Paris. Its location, at 128 Boulevard Saint-Germain, was chosen to be as close as possible to the location of the Carthusian monastery of Vauvert and the Jardin du Luxembourg. 

The Vauvert monastery was founded in 1257 at the invitation of the King of France, Saint Louis, in what is now the Jardin du Luxembourg. In 1605, the somewhat mysterious soldier/diplomat Marechal François-Annibal d´Estrées obtained a manuscript purporting to contain the formula for an "elixir of long life." He turned it over to the Carthusian monks at Vauvert, who built an apothecary in 1614 and set to work on deciphering the manuscript and formulating the elixir. (The Marechal may have partaken, as he wound up living to 97.) In 1737, the new prior of the order transferred the manuscript and the herbalist work to La Grande Chartreuse monastery, the order's mothership established in 1084. The elixir was finally perfected and its formula codified in 1764, and the monks have been producing it ever since at many successive sites in France and Spain. During the French Revolution in 1792, the state expelled the monks from the Vauvert monastery in Paris, but some of the trees from the monks' nursery still survive in the Jardin du Luxembourg.

The Paris visitor's center offers a guided tour of the Jardin du Luxembourg and the monastery site, a cocktail workshop, and a guided tasting of most of the Chartreuse line. I was lucky enough to visit a couple weeks ago, but alas didn't have time to go on any of the tours or take any workshops. (I'll just have to go back!)  They have a lot of fascinating exhibits on the history of Chartreuse, some of the 130 botanicals that make up the secret formula, the evolution of their bottle design (and how to date a bottle), advertisements, and more. (I also spotted a photo of Quentin Tarantino, and wasn't sure if he did an ad for them. Does he drink it off Uma Thurman's toes?)