Bar Zerro (map here) is a sure place to go on a Saturday night (or Friday, if it’s late enough) to find drunken fun in Osaka’s Minami district. It advertises itself as falling somewhere between a bar and club, but I would call it more of a bar that knows how to cut loose. They host DJ events every Saturday night, as well as a number of other events and parties. They also have a Fussball table (no longer for free, unfortunately) and celebrate foreign holidays such as Halloween…speaking of which, Zerro offers “roast dinners” (turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, etc.) on Sunday nights, so if you are an expat sad about missing your Thanksgiving eats this year, drop by next weekend! The drinks are not cheap here, but the customers are always varied and friendly, and the bilingual bartenders help create a great atmosphere.

Zerro is conveniently located near Dotombori, Shinsaibashi, Minami’s Hub Pubs, and other bars such as Blow and Balabushka. The closest stations are Shinsaibashi and Namba subway stations. Zerro can be contacted by phone at 06-6211-0439.

This time I swear, I wasn’t the one needing to put my foot in my mouth!!! And it is nice for a change. I met up with one of my really good friends last night for dinner and drinks at one of our favorite restaurants. We decided to sit at the bar, and start with drinks. The bar tender walked up, asked what we wanted, and then asked for our ID’s. As he was looking at mine, he made the comment that I had a birthday coming up. I told him I knew, and sarcastically thanked him for reminding me. He laughed and said, “Well if it makes you feel any better, I just turned 2* this year, I was depressed about it, it was terrible!” Well, obviously this dipshit did not do his job and look at my date of birth, because I will be turning 2* this year as well. We were born in the same year. I responded with, “Well thanks, that makes it even better for me! Because that’s how old I will be turning!” He immediately started backtracking trying to make up for what he said. I know all about this back peddling, seeing as I often have to do this to make up for one of my asshole remarks. I guess he felt pretty bad about this, because when we got our margaritas, made with silver Patron, I couldn’t really tell a difference between the margarita and my water The strong drinks almost made up for his age comment.

Oh well… I guess at least I still look young enough to get ID-ed. And so begins the drinking season!

It’s Sunday in Palm Springs, 75 degrees out, beautiful mountain backdrop, happy friendly people and their pets are out enjoying the life…

And I feel like shit.

Why?

My first week eating only raw food was rough.  Imagine cutting yourself off cold-turkey from drinking over 100 adult beverages per week, abstaining from your morning cup of crack with the pretty mermaid on it, and suddenly refusing your body any access to pizzas and Mexican food…NOT a fun transition.

If you’ve seen New Moon, and watched Kristen Stewart’s “Bella” writhe and scream in her sleep over her lost Edward (who I still maintain looks an awful lot like Bert from Sesame Street), you have an inkling of what my first week raw felt like!

Weeks two and three were a different movie…I felt euphoric and “high” and ate up all the positive comments I was getting from friends and strangers.  EVERY SINGLE DAY I saw a thinner, sexier, happier, healthier, more in-tune version of me in the full-length mirror.

Having a cute young raw foods chef at a Santa Monica cafe ask me if I was “raw” the second I walked in the door surprised me.  When I answered yes, and she told me she “thought so, because my eyes were so clear and I really had a case of the glow” I was beyond flattered.

But here I am near the end of week four, a week of apathy and fatigue.  What’s up?  I feel like I’m doing this right…I’ve slowly been upping my intake of greens, I’m making sure I get natural fats like hemp oil, I’m still eating a lot of juicy organic fruits…

Also, I eat very little dehydrated raw foods (they make me feel as dry as they are) and most days just eat foods in their whole simple form without trying to “doll” them up.

I’m hoping that it’s just another cleansing level I’ve hit?  I would expect my recent toxic past to haunt me for awhile. Maybe it’s a little bit mental…one month is the longest I’ve ever gone before raw…? But Jesus do I hate the idea that some or all of the benefits of raw eating might just be in my head.

One interesting distinction I’d like to make: I’m not depressed.  I’ve spent much of my life in moderate to severely depressed states, this isn’t anything like that.  I’m clear about things–almost scary sober–but I don’t necessarily like how that feels…

Sometimes eating raw makes so much sense to me, and I see it as the answer to a lot of peoples problems both on a personal level and a collective one.  That’s how I mostly feel…at other times the whole thing seems ridiculous and absurd!  Not eat ANY cooked foods?  Not get drunk and stupid?  WHY?!?  What am I trying to prove? To whom?

As an example last night a guy at the bar wanted mashed potatoes.  We don’t have that on the menu, but Mike the Chef made some for him anyways, that’s the kind of old school cool we serve up.  When I bring him the potatoes I’m drooling.  When he adds a few dollops of real butter I’m butter.  So I try and remind myself that when I get home later I was actually going to make my own version of mashed “potatoes” which are made from soaked cashews and cauliflower blended up with salt & pepper.  They taste pretty good.  But they are NOT potatoes, and they are cold.  For some reason it just seemed stupid to me…am I too good for potatoes?

My intention with this blog is not necessarily to inspire anyone to do anything.  I simply want to reveal what eating raw is doing for me (now and in the future).  So please take what I say with a grain of pink Himalayan crystal salt.   I’m half-way through my trial and will continue to candidly share my peaks and valley floors with anyone interested…

Cari lettori, vi presento un mio carissimo amico e confidente. Si tratta del gestore dell’osteria “Sighing Crab”, il granchio sospirante, un’istituzione qui, all’isola di Tortuga. Questo omone saggio e di buon cuore porta il nome di Oliver O’Pint, ed è sempre un piacere conversare con lui. E’ un uomo semplice e, allo stesso tempo, assai curioso; cosa che denota una spiccata intelligenza. Nonostante la sua semplicità d’animo ama discutere su svariati argomenti e spesso si dimentica di servire gli altri avventori. I pirati, si sa, non sono persone dai modi garbati. Ma Oliver ha sempre saputo mettere a freno le lingue e le mani delle ciurme selvagge che accorrono al suo locale.

Non vedo l’ora di tornare a Tortuga e trascorrere qualche piacevole ora conversando con il mio amico e magari, scroccargli qualche bevuta gratis. Ovviamente, siete tutti invitati ad “origliare” ciò che ci diciamo. Quindi, accomodatevi anche Voi. Prendete posto ad uno dei tavolacci del Sighing Crab e fatevi una bella bevuta alla Vostra salute!

My dear readers, let me introduce you one of my dearest friends of mine. I am talking about the “Sighing Crab” Innkeeper, Mr Oliver O’Pint. This big, wise chap has a great heart and it is always a pleasure to have a chat with him. He is simple, yes, but very curious as well, in which he denotes a great intelligence. Despite his semplicity he loves talking about many different issues and he often get loose and forgets his own customers. They can get mad at him, but he knows how to keep them quiet. Pirates are not pussy-cats, but Oliver perfectly knows how to treat them.

Looking forward to getting back to Tortuga and spend some time with him and maybe, get some free of charge drink. Of course, everybody is invited to listen in what we say, therefore feel free and have a sit and some drinks as well. Cheers to everybody!

I have never delved into the cooking side of booze, though I pride myself at being pretty good in “la cocina” (Kitchen).  But this recipe I cannot resist posting because it is simple, quick, and well DAMN tasty.  It’s a great little snack to serve at any upcoming festivity.

Bourbon Chile Pecans

1 Tablespoon vegetable oil

2 cups pecan halves

1/2 cup sugar

1 teaspoon Table salt ( yes, table salt.  Don’t be a hater!)

1 teaspoon New Mexico red chile powder or cayenne

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 tablespoon Bourbon

Here’s what you do:  Heat the oil in a 10″ (or so) skillet.  Add the pecans and fold with heat-resistant spatula to coat, and toast for about 3-5 minutes.  Add the sugar and fold again coating all the pecans.  Let the sugar carmalize (liquify that is) then CAREFULLY add the bourbon and stir.  The pecans will take on a shiny luster.  Turn off the heat. and then pour pecans into an oversized metal or Pyrex mixing bowl.  Add salt, pepper and cinnamon and toss or stir until all the seasoning “gone”.  Let cool to room temp. Store Airtight at room temp for up to a month or freeze for 3 months.

These are great little munchies to put on your bar or have around at your next party. 

They’ll even impress your Mother-In-Law!!!

Happy Holidays!

Easy on the soda water, homegirl.

A couple of days ago three bars at Penn State were fined for “lack of alcohol training.”

What?!

What exactly were those bartenders doing wrong to piss off the authorities? How hard is it to open a bottle of Bud Light or mix vodka and tonic together? It’s not like us college kids are ordering difficult drinks like mudslides and daiquiris at the bar. I think I speak for all of us when I say the only qualities I’m looking for in a bartender are speed and a heavy hand (well, the hand that’s holding the booze). And if they’re a bit slow at math and can’t add my tab correctly, that’s OK too.

The thing is, bartender experience is the least important offense when it comes to college bars. There are far more pressing and disturbing issues that should be addressed. And fined. And fixed!

The Line
I don’t mind waiting in line if the bar is hopping – I’ll just sip my 40 while I wait – but making people stand in line when the bar is empty only to make it look cooler? That should be illegal.

Watered Down Drinks
I did not pay $7 for soda on ice; if I wanted that I would go to the McDonalds down the street and get unlimited refills for a dollar. If I order a Cran-Vodka, I want it to sting as it goes down, not taste like I could put in my 3 year old cousin’s sippy-cup. So stop filling my mini-cup with ice to make me think I’m getting more booze and tip that bottle in there. I’m paying you more for this one drink than a full bottle at the liquor store so stop being so damn stingy.

Bathroom Mayhem
How can the girl’s bathroom look like a hurricane went through it an hour after the bar opens? There are paper towels everywhere, toilets are clogged and overflowing (with god knows what) and there is some unidentifiable sticky substance covering the floor. Can we maybe run a mop through this sucker? A vomit covered bathroom at 4 am? Understandable. Being in this state at 9:30 when we’ve only had time to down three watered-down drinks and are coherent enough to gag at the stench? Not cool.

Show Tunes
There is a certain time when playing “You’re The One That I Want” and “Dancing Queen” becomes acceptable. By 1 am we have had enough to drink that we will dance to absolutely anything, hugging our friends and singing at the top of our lungs. This, however, is not the case at 10 pm. At this time playing show tunes takes us back to those awkward Sweet 16’s where everyone stood in clumps, swaying on the dance floor, not wanting to look stupid in front of the gorgeous guy from class. Help us out a little and play some hip-hop, would ya? We might actually have a chance of looking sexy and luring in a hookup if we have a beat to shake our ass to.

Last Call
If the bar is closing at 2, then a 1:30 last call is acceptable. What is not acceptable is turning on the lights at 1:40 when there is clearly twenty more minutes for me to hunt down my evening prey. How am I supposed to rope in a boy when he can see the makeup melting off my face and my hair plastered to my forehead? Be a dear and leave the lights off, please. I just dropped $30 on soda water with a splash of vodka, so it’s really the least you can do.

What else do bars do that have you guys wishing you could call the authorities?

El donostiarra Félix Lizarraga y el italiano, afincado en Barcelona, Giussepe Santamaría han sido los ganadores del Tanqueray Gin Contest, que se ha celebrado hoy en Madrid. Lizarraga, que representa al local Zibbibo de San Sebastián ha ganado en la categoría de cóctel y Santamaría, que representa al Valuart de Barcelona, ha ganado en la categoría de Gin&Tonic.

Félix Lizarraga, ha preparado un cóctel al que él mismo le ha dado el nombre de TANQUERAY POKER TEN. Lo ha elaborado con: 3cl de Tanqueray No. Ten, 2cl de fruta de la pasión, 2 cl de zumo de naranja y 3cl de fresa natural y brocheta de frutas. Además, ha utilizado para amenizar los casi 4 minutos que el concurso le exigía para su preparación, música de U2.
Giussepe Santamaría, que competía por el mejor Gin&Tonic, ha deleitado al público con un TANQUERAY TONIC DECANTADO, para cuya elaboración ha empleado: 50 ml de Tanqueray London, 1 botella de Q Tonic, semilla de haba tonka, 4 granos de pimienta negra, pomelo blanco, lemon grass y jengibre. Antes ha decantado la ginebra Tanqueray, lo que ha dado nombre a su combinado.

Félix Lizarraga ha declarado “nunca pensé que yo iba a ser el ganador, sobre todo, compitiendo con gente de la talla de Ye Goujon del Hotel Me de Madrid o Alberto Pizarro del Mandarin Oriental de Barcelona. Aunque el nivel que he visto hoy en este primer Tanqueray Gin Contest, ha sido bestial”.
Giussepe Santamaría a su vez se ha mostrado emocionado por el premio “estar al lado de Steve Olson aprendiendo en el Beverage Alcohol Resource, que en nuestro sector, es como un Sergi Arola en cocina, es un super lujo!”.
El Tanqueray Gin Contest, ha reunido a 20 profesionales‐ 3 mujeres y 17 hombres‐ de la coctelería o bartenders. De estos 20 finalistas llegados de Barcelona (5), Madrid (12), San Sebastián (2) y Valencia (1), 8 de ellos han competido para la categoría de Gin&Tonic y otros 8 en la de cóctel, siendo 2 cocteleros quienes han sido finalistas en ambas categorías. Todos ellos, forman parte de una élite del cóctel que fueron invitados en 2008 a recibir los Tanqueray Gin Master, en los que el mayor experto mundial en el espirituoso (considerado mejor coctelero del mundo en 2008), el neoyorquino Steve Olson, compartió sus conocimientos con una selección de 240 Bartenders, los mejores de Madrid, Barcelona, Valencia y San Sebastián.
El concurso ha contado con un jurado de élite: los newyorkinos Steve Olson (presidente del jurado) y Andy Seymour; y el franco español Tupac Kirby. El jurado ha tenido que elegir entre recetas muy creativas como el TANQUERAY MOJITO, elaborado por el madrileño Jesús Lumbreras (Detroit Café) que curiosamente ha elaborado un mojito pero utilizando ginebra Tanqueray 10 y 3cl de monin de Manzana Verde, cuyos gajos ha utilizado para adornar su propuesta. Ruth Mateu (del Arola Gastro) de Madrid ha elaborado el cóctel MANDARIN TEN, realizado con 5cl de Tanqueray No. Ten, 2 cl de Saint Germain, 1 cl de zumo de lima, 5 gajos de mandarina, 1 ramita de romero fresco, un golpe de azúcar líquido y 2 gotas de Bitter Truth Pomelo.

Ambos han ganado una semana de formación en la prestigiosa escuela de alta coctelería Beverage Alcohol Resource de Nueva York

About this time last year, I devised a drink I called Manhattan in Autumn.  This cocktail is a variation on the traditional Manhattan with added autumn flavors.  I got a little publicity on this little tipple (thank you Chilled Magazine), and as its ‘Birthday” approaches I wanted to share the recipe.

Manhattan In Autumn

2 1/2 oz Knob Creek Bourbon

3/4 oz Nolly Pratt Sweet Vermouth

Candied Orange Peel

Stir with Ice and serve up into a Autumn Tincture coated cocktail glass.

Autumn Tincture:  in a small (4-5 oz) jar, combine 3 cinnamon sticks, 1 T nutmeg, 3/4 T Cloves and  seven drops of pure Vanilla.  Fill Jar with Booker’s Bourbon.  Shake jar once a day for minimum of 2 weeks.  Strain through coffee filter or cheese cloth into an atomizer or mist bottle.

Candied Orange Peel: With a vegetable peeler, remove the peel from and orange, then with a sharp knife slice the peels into 1/2 inch wide strips.  Place strips into a saucepan and cover with water.  Bring to a boil  then reduce heat and simmer for 20 minutes or until peels become translucent.  Remove from heat and strain.  Cover again with 2 cups of water.  Bring to a boil then add 1 cup of sugar.  Once sugar is dissolved, lower the heat and simmer until liquid reduces by half (20-30 minutes).  Carefully strain off syrup and reserve.  Place warm orange peels into a bowl and toss with 1/4 cup (give or take) of sugar and completely coat the outside.  Place peels on a sheet pan to cool until hardened (3-4 hours).  Store in an airtight container.  These will keep for 6 weeks!!

Oh yeah, the orange syrup can be used in place of Curacao or simple syrup.  Possibilities are endless.

¡Salud!

The rain was forgiving, in the sense that it eventually dried up and faded into a lukewarm sunset. The fat girl’s t-shirt, however, was not. It buckled under her shoulder blades and the lines that filled out her back. Her hair hung limp to the side in a ponytail, little wisps of brown hedging down her neck. The bartender was a playwright in disguise. The fat girl wouldn’t be able to fit into a disguise. I wondered what he wrote about her. We made eye contact just once in the mirror and went on ignoring each other, eying the fat girl for note taking and the like—her back to my back, to his back, to the mirror.

Yesterdays blog (part 1) looked at the misconception that eating “raw” has to be expensive.  It really doesn’t.

Today (part 2) I share what I think is a much bigger price to pay than money when it comes to the raw foods life…

Tomorrow (part 3) I’m going to look at the innumerable benefits of eating raw and try to do a simple Pro’s & Con’s analysis to see if eating raw feels worth it to me.

Part 2

IS GOING RAW WORTH IT EVEN THOUGH I HAVE TO GIVE UP SO MUCH?

Coffee

I love coffee.  The aroma. The acidity. The buzzzzz. And I especially crave the taste.  Black tar washing down my gullet.

I know coffee isn’t great for me.  Sure every so often there’s a report about it having antioxidants as long as we drink it in moderation…come on…let’s be big boys & girls and admit it…we like coffee because it’s a drug.  An upper extraordinaire.

This morning I woke up feeling like shit.  Warmed over death.  I had almost all juice yesterday and it’s kicking the cleansing back into high gear for me.  Now normally, a quick $3 exchange with my dealer in the green apron would instantly change how I felt. LITERALLY.

Yeah-yeah there would be an energy spike and a corresponding drop..blah blah blah…that’s what a second cup of coffee is for.  And I like most people ENJOY the coffee roller coaster.  Especially because the ride right next to it in the park is the Booze Cruise.

So let me bottom line how I feel about coffee despite the fact that I am better hydrated and overall better off without it.  I miss the nervous creative highs & lows I experienced with coffee.

Alcohol

If coffee is creative than alcohol is fun. Right?  We’ve ALL had fun drinking.  And we’ve all cursed Jack, Jim, and Jose for ever being born.

It’s tough to imagine the world without alcohol.  The liquid hazy realm is where we all become stuff of legends…”Dude!  I got SO trashed!  I woke up in a planter in front of a bank!” and “WTF Lara, don’t you remember peeing on the McDonald’s sign last night

in front of like one million people driving down Wilshire?”

Good times.

I’ve been bartending for about three years.  I’m not the kind of bartender who throws bottles in the air.  I’m not particularly fast.  I’m the kind of bartender that gets to know you and makes you a perfect drink every time.

I love beer & liquor (slowly coming around on wine with the help of Chilean malbecs ), my love of bourbon and tequila drives me to constantly learn and craft each cocktail.

You know how they say that what people choose to drink says a lot about them.  It’s true.  It’s a fascinating thing and what’s really cool is that it changes both seasonally and slowly over time as someones personality shifts.

For example, when I lived in the cold SF bay area all my drinking revolved around bourbon and dark seasonal ales from NorCal on up through the Oregon coast (My all time fave was Lagunitas’ Lucky 13 Mondo Red).  The cocktail I liked to treat myself to was a stiff Maker’s Manhattan.

When I moved to Palm Springs I became obsessed with drinking Hefeweizens during the hot summer days and with meals.  My desert tonic of choice?  The simplest Tanqueray gimlet:  3 oz of Tanqueray, the juice squeezed from half a lime, and ice go into the shaker.  Shake the HELL out of it and strain it UP into a chilled cocktail glass or over fresh ice in a clear plastic Dixie cup if I was taking out to the pool…

If I seem like I’m rambling a little, that’s because I am.

I want to convey that I really like and miss these things.  I can’t sit here and type some BS lie like, “Oh…I don’t really miss any of that.”  Because I do.

Food

Now obviously, I don’t have to give up food.  I eat as much of it as I want.  As long as it’s fruit, vegetables, nuts…

I’m talking about pizza, steak, hamburgers, mashed potatoes, lasagna, burritos, sushi, cornbread, bacon, chili-cheese fries, artisan goat cheese, nachos, sourdough melts, street tacos, BBQ, potato salad, tamales, Vegas buffets, spanakopita, cubano sandwiches, breakfast potatoes, garlic bread, chips & salsa, pad thai, samosas, baingan bharta, and anything made or topped with copious amounts of sweet roasted garlic…

Making that list this early in my attempt at 60 days raw (and maybe as a way of life) is both a little sadistic and masochistic…but you knew I’d eventually have to get some S&M into a blog called Live Nude Food. Click here for a little amateur food porn I downloaded on a day last week when my food cravings were worse than normal. Go ahead and click it. You know you want to.

So right now you’re probably thinking “WTF!?”.  Me too.

I’ve run out of the time needed to delve into the social ramifications of being a raw food weirdo (that IS what people think).  Suffice it to say that if you think eating a diet that is contrary in every last respect to what the rest of your family, your friends, and the country eats…carries zero consequences; your crazier than Tom Cruise.

Yeah, you can get all new friends (maybe you need to anyways).  You can carry baggies of cacao to the movies and thank the big dipper that raw eateries are coming soon to a corner near you.  But it’s not gonna be all fun, and it sure as hell isn’t easy.  So why claim that it is?

You can see why I say this is the real cost of going raw.  And it’s one I’m still weighing out myself.  It’s good that I’ve made the decision to commit to 60 days 100% raw NO MATTER WHAT.  If I was trying to ask these same questions over and over every day, it would be a disaster for me.  In the meantime my health and overall feeling about life have drastically improved in just two weeks.  That’s frickin impressive on any level.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Tomorrow I’ll try and articulate what’s so incredible about the raw foods experience, and I’ll ask myself how it stacks up to the booze cruise…

What I ate today:

• Carrot/Orange/Apple juice
• Half a Pineapple/Green Powder/Honey/Coconut Oil “Colada”
• My new chocolate hemp Cocoa Puffs shake
• The other half of the pineapple…

Notes: Felt full all day.  So much buzzy energy I almost don’t feel grounded.  Went for a long walk at dusk along a dried out river bed. I’m updating this at 4:45 in the morning and haven’t gone to sleep yet…

]]> http://ronbat.wordpress.com/2009/11/12/my-2nd-attempt/ Thu, 12 Nov 2009 23:13:34 +0000 ronbat http://ronbat.wordpress.com/2009/11/12/my-2nd-attempt/

After spending the last week and a half following up on applications, I’m ready to send out a second wave. I really need to open up to what else is available and not just have a focus on another waitstaff position or bartending position. The restaurant is still going to stay at the top of my list, but I definitely will be more open to putting in apps into other places such as retail or even some sort of filing job. God, doesn’t that sound horribly boring? Regardless, I am in desperate need of a change in scenery.

Continuando com boas campanhas de publicidade, apresenta agora a ação da Bacardi para alertar sobre os perigos da combinação de álcool e direção.

O vídeo traz Michael Schumacher e Salvatore “The Maestro” Calabrese, um dos maiores bartenders do mundo. Vejam o resultado.

Para saber mais acesse: http://www.championsdrinkresponsibly.com/

Sorry for the poor quality of this photo, but it was taken in a bar with very low lighting.  As you can see this is a bottle of A.H. Hirsch Kentucky Straight Rye Whiskey.  It is 93 proof and aged 22 years in Oak.  I had a sample of this on a recent trip to Portland.  I have said in a previous post how important it is to get to know your bar tender and be nice and engaging with them, and this is a direct result of my efforts at the Urban Farmer in Portland Oregon.

I had talked with Phillipe the bartender and told him I had a blog and would be ordering a couple beers and some whiskey that I couldn’t get in Idaho.  He immediately took an interest, because there was someone sitting at his bar that knew as much about alcohol as he did, and we had a camaraderie that transcended the typical patron/tender relationship.  As I sat at the bar, he began coming down to my end over and over just talking brews and whiskeys.  Then he brought down this bottle and a glencarin (Special Bourbon glass)  and poured me about a 1/2 shot sample of this.  There was no way I was buying this because it was $36 a shot! Later I looked it up on the internet and the cheapest I can find it is for $120 a fifth.  I am trying to figure out how to get one!

Simply put this was Awesome Stuff!  It had caramel and a little peat on the nose almost like a good single malt scotch.  It was spicy, and sweet, and complex with a great finish.  This is really great.  I was actually a little apprehensive to try this because the Old Overholt I reviewed earlier was so bad it kind of tainted my impression of rye.  No more!

This isn’t a full review, because I just had a small sample, but I know from that taste that my Rye Times are just beginning.

-Don

]]> http://soybomb76.wordpress.com/2009/11/10/iced-tea-done-right/ Wed, 11 Nov 2009 04:01:32 +0000 soybomb76 http://soybomb76.wordpress.com/2009/11/10/iced-tea-done-right/

A guy runs in a bar and he asks the bartender for 24 shots of his finest whisky. When the bartender has poured the shots the guy drinks them down as fast as possible. The bartender says “wow I’ve never seen anyone drink that fast before” and the guy says “You would to if you had what I had” and the bartender says “What is it you have?” And the guy says “25 cents” and runs out the door.

I heard this joke once, and it cracked me up! Then, I stopped and said, “Hey… That’s a rather good idea!” I never had the guts to do it though… I would think most places would be sure to get SOME money before giving out 24 shots!

So, for today’s drink I did a little research… Since my joke was about shots, I thought I would find a good story, and recipe… But I just can’t let go of my first desire… Long Island Iced Tea.

Most of you may believe that the Long island came from the Oak Beach Inn, invented by a bartender named Robert “Rosebud” Butt in the 70’s. However there is another story that I find feels more believable.

During prohibition, in a community called Long Island in Kingsport, Tennessee Old Man Bishop found that alcoholic consumption had to be done discretely, for obvious reasons. Bartenders went out of their way to make drinks appear quite innocent. This concoction was no different. In fact it is told maple syrup is used in the Tennessee version to this day, and at the time was used to disguise the smell of alcohol. Now, I find this story believable simply because who is going to go around screaming they just invented an amazing cocktail during Prohibition? Only people who were stupid enough not to drink! So, there’s my vote! Old Man Bishop invented one of the strangest, most complicated, most delicious drinks EVER!

Long Island Iced Tea Old Man Bishop Style

One fresh Lemon half

One fresh Lime half

Squeeze both into a pint glass

Add

½ oz. Rum- (Jamaican Rum gives it great color)

1 oz.  Vodka- (Don’t be cheap… It doesn’t have to be Grey Goose, but don’t make it Gordons!)

½ oz. Gin

½ oz. Tequila- (Obviously NEVER skimp on tequila! It hurts to much!)

½ oz. Maple Syrup- ( I like a slightly thinner REAL syrup so it doesn’t just float around in a glob!)

Mix thoroughly. Pour in 4-5 oz. Cola- (doesn’t matter here. Go Cheap!)

DON’T STIR! That just messes it all up!

 Try this and let me know what you think!

  A little while ago, I found myself reminiscing about the old days when I would go into a bar and order one of three cocktails: white russian, long island iced tea, or a tom collins. I found that by sticking to the cocktails that I knew best, I was not in danger of having the bartender make me a drink that I would not enjoy, and at the time, I was one of those people who was afraid to say “hey, I am not a fan of this. Could I possibly have something else?” So I played it safe and stuck to the basics.

My close friend at the time did as well, but he only had one drink. The Whiskey Daisy was his poison, and I never understood why until I actually tried it. To be such a simply crafted cocktail, it had a lot of great flavors in it, and I was hooked.

The Whiskey Daisy is a classic; it is damn near an institution in the drinking world. There are many variants on it, but below, I will provide you with the one that I enjoy now, and I always ask it to be made this way.

Whiskey Daisy

Fill a tall glass with ice.

2 oz. Bourbon or Rye Whiskey

1 tsp. Red Currant Syrup ( use Raspberry syrup or grenadine if Red currant is unavilable)

1/2 oz. Lemon Juice

Shake.

Fill with soda water

float 1 tsp. of Yellow Chartreuse on top and garnish with a lemon.

Note: Some people have stated that the drink does not need the syrups at all. I use them, but if you are up to it, try yours without.

 For my Bourbon, I usually ask for Makers Mark, which should always be a solid choice. A good bartending buddy of mine uses Knob Creek unless the patron specifies a different brand. Overall, this delicious cocktail may be a classic, but with always changing variations, this one could easily contend with other innovative cocktails.

 Suggestions for meal pairings: this variation goes great with most chicken dishes, and some fish entrees. I have tried it alongside plates containing angel hair pasta or linguine, and it fits wonderfully.

 But you never know until you taste for yourself.

Working in a restaurant you meet a lot of interesting people…especially in NYC! I can’t tell how many different characters I meet everyday at the bar, I could seriously write a play.  Some are old and alone and some are young and married. Some are happy and laughing and some are just depressed and mopping. Nobody tells you this when you get hired as a bartender but you are actually taking on a job as a psychiatrist as well. You are basically in this cage for about 8 hours serving drinks to emotional people.

The other day a middle-aged man ( regular on Fridays ) came into the bar and started drinking about 5 of our happy hour $6 vodka martinis then proceeded to tell me that he is cheating on his wife and he feels horrible about it. He asked me, ” What should I do? “, I responded, ” you gotta tell her or end it because eventually it will eat you up inside and plus it’s not fair to her “, He said ” BUT THE KIDS and what if she leaves me when I tell her? “,  I responded ” Well you should of thought about both those things when you started the affair in the first place. If you wanna stay with her you gotta make it right!! ”  He pays me and leaves the bar even more depressed then when he came.

Sometimes when I am having a bad day I feel like putting my head down and ignoring all my customers so I don’t have to deal with their problems because I have enough of my own. Sometimes it’s hard to listen to these rich drunk Upper Eastsiders complain about there lives when I am this struggling NYC musician/bartender barely making rent each month. People go to college for 4- 7 yrs to become a psychiatrist and yet 7 yrs being a bartender I feel like someone should give me my certificate. My days as a bartender are very tough because not only do you work your ass of serving people but you have to listen so much and sometimes it can make you bitter.

2 weeks later the man ( cheater ) comes back to the bar to have another 5 of our $6 martinis. He has a huge smile on his face and says to me, ” I made it right.. I told her and she forgave me.. Thanks Carrie “

I felt great after that. I actually really helped save a marriage? This rich successful business guy came to this young unknown bartender for advice and it worked. I helped him and he will always remember that. Suddenly my day at work doesn’t seem so bad….. “another drink anyone?”

Some horrifying news has reached The Notes from Trinidad and Tobago where the firm that owns Angostura Bitters has been hit by a liquidity crisis. The factory that has produced the vital ingredient in Manhattans and Pink Gins since 1824, was forced to cease production in June and panic buying has meant shelves are rapidly emptying around the world.

The chief executive of Angostura USA, the North American distributer, has said production will come back on line soon thanks to a re-financing deal but you can’t whip a bottle of bitters up overnight… this ancient brew takes time and supply could take up to a year to return to normal. The only solution is to race down to the local liquor store and hope you can nab a few bottles before the rest of the panickers get there.

Needless to say, I panicked last week and am currently sitting on a case of the stuff. Any offers?

I’ll preface this by saying I know everyone is sick to death of hearing about the Bartender. And I know I need to figure out a way to finally, officially let go and move on with my life. And — other than the fact that his bar is right around the corner from where I live and I have to walk by it/him virtually every day — I don’t know why it’s over two months later and I’m still struggling. I guess part of it is that it was the first time I really thought I was on to something good in a long, long time…and he’s somebody I care about. A lot. It’s hard for me to just turn that off and pretend it never happened.

But…I bring him up again — for what I will (try to) promise will be the last time — for two reasons: (1) It always makes me feel better to write things out; and (2) I have found no one really gives a hoot when I blog about food anyway.

My oldest childhood friend will be here tomorrow…and we have several days to pal around in New York before Costa Rica on Thursday…and I am hopeful I will return from this adventure with a new lease on life. Maybe we can perform some sort of ritualistic exorcism that will make me forget he exists. And/or maybe the guy who cut my hair was right and in another week, my life will change forever — even on the man-front.

Until then, I will write, I guess.

—

There were MANY things the Bartender and I did not have in common. Politics was one of them. He claimed to be a Republican…but I think he was much more moderate than he let on. Let’s face it — I have pretty strong opinions about woman-y things and I really couldn’t stand to be around somebody who told me I should be seen and not heard and the like. Granted, he had a McCain/Palin poster in his apartment, but I think part of his conservative fervor was also that he wanted to set himself up as a counterpoint to the young, urban, liberal hipster archetype.

The Bartender was also very opinionated and liked to talk a lot. In fact, once he told me on my little red couch that he liked our conversations because we didn’t argue — we had friendly debates that made him think about things in new ways. (But I will have to watch myself when it comes to making comments like that or I’m going to get nostalgic.)

And…one of my J-school professors is really into social justice-y topics and wrote a book called, “Denison, Iowa,” on — you guessed it — a year in the life of this Midwestern town. I’m not Amazon, so this may not be an entirely accurate recollection, but, basically…my memory of it is that Denison’s claim to fame is that it’s the birthplace of Donna Reed and so for many, many years it was this wholesome, traditional Midwestern town with wholesome, traditional Midwestern people and wholesome, traditional Midwestern values…and then a bunch of meatpacking plants popped up and immigrants started moving there for jobs and the social dynamics of the town changed considerably. So…my professor spent a year living there during this period of flux and sort of sat back and watched all these changes and the related drama. He illustrated it all with a number of characters in town like the young Latino guy who wanted to start his own business — and so there was all this intrigue about whether he would qualify for the loan in the end…and there was, like, a retired schoolteacher who had lived in Denison her entire life and who started teaching English classes at night…and there was also, like, the crooked cop who hated everyone who wasn’t white. That’s basically the gist.

And so — because the Bartender and I were allegedly on opposite sides of the political spectrum, I was curious what he’d think about this book. So…I let him borrow it. But…when I gave it to him, I said, “My professor wrote this, so I’d really like it back…” and then, half-jokingly, I added, “So, you know, if anything happens while you’re reading this and you decide you hate me and never want to see me again, will you please just, like, leave it in my mailbox or something? I really want it back.” And, of course, he looked at me with a big frowny face and said, “Nooo! That’s not going to happen! You worry too much!”

But sometimes the worrier is right and — sure enough — something happened and he decided that he hates me and never wants to see me again. But not before I let him borrow yet another book…which I’ve been saying is one of my favorites, but I’m not positive that’s entirely true. I just like it a lot and would like it back, too. And you’d better believe that even in the middle of our hours-long, tear-filled, “I don’t understand why you ‘can’t'”-goodbye, I let him know that I wanted those books back. He promised he’d get them to me. That was August 20.

I sent a reminder or two. Nothing.

Then…there was the whole end-of-birthday debacle in September.

So. I decided I would give him a good month-long cushion of no Lisa and then I would make one final plea for those books.

And — this is how crazy I am — both our final fight and my birthday are even-numbered days, so I thought, “Maybe if I wait until an odd day, I’ll have better luck!” Plus, November 5 is Javier Lopez’s birthday and I figured I could, like, channel Javy for strength.

But before I actually had a chance to send him anything that day, lo and behold, I was on my way to meet the Greeting Card Emergency guy and I saw a man walking towards me with a Yankees hat and a cigarette and I thought, “Ohmygod, is that the Bartender?” and then he adjusted his backpack and I realized that, yes, it *was* him and so I got out my phone, but I had no new messages and then we passed by each other and had an eight-word conversation — “How are you?” “Fine. You?” “Fine.” “Books?” “Okay.” — and I turned the corner and my legs turned to jelly and I hyperventilated a little.

I got a new phone post-Bartender and his number is not in it. I had all these messages from him on the old one that I couldn’t bear to delete, but…my memory was full and so every time I’d get a new message it would say, “Memory Low! Delete messages now!” and I would say, “I don’t want to delete any messages!” and so my solution was to just get a new phone. No messages from him in there. No reminders of him.

But I still have that old phone. So…I figured there was no harm in retrieving his number and using the “use once” feature to send a message to that 347-number that I cannot save again. It was perfectly friendly — just to acknowledge that we’d seen each other and it was fine and — I know this is beating a dead horse, but — I’d really appreciate getting those books back.

So, later that very same day, I wrote him something along the lines of…”Hey — I hate to be a pain, but my professor wrote one of those books and the other is one of my favorites and it would mean a lot if I could get them back.” And that’s probably all a normal person would write, but I went on to say that besides making me really happy, I would imagine getting rid of the books would be cathartic and then he’d be free of it all and wouldn’t have any reminders of anything unhappy…and I said that I hoped all was well and that I seriously meant it because I never wanted anything but the best for him…and to prove that very point, I told him how happy I was that Pettitte pitched such a good game and that Matsui hit so well and the Yankees won, in part because I knew how happy it must have made him.

No response. No books.

So…I waited for another odd-numbered day (I hope I do not get, like, institutionalized for admitting that) and sent another message: “Please, T, please? Those books? I’m leaving the country on Thursday. Can I have them back before then?” (If I have to go pick them up at his bar, it would be great to have my oldest childhood friend there with me to figuratively hold my hand…)

But, again, nothing. Radio silence.

And, okay, I guess I have a reputation for being a clingy girl and understand that maybe he’s worried that responding will only fuel the fire and it’s easier to just press “delete” and pretend it never happened. But…it seems to me that the nice thing to do would be to say, “Okay,” or “Sure,” or SOMETHING — even leaving the books in my mailbox in the dark of night. After all, he gets off work at 4:00 AM on the weekends…

And I know I threw a lot of crazy his way, but I was also really good to him — I dropped off pie on National Pie Day because he had to work and couldn’t come to my celebration and I made him cheesecake and planned an elaborate dinner (with meat!) when he was hurt and out of work and poor and sick of eating rice and beans…and I sent him postcards from all of my travels this summer and I spent a small fortune on Yankees tickets for his birthday because he turned 30 and I wanted to do something big and because he hadn’t been to the new stadium and I wanted him to see it. And, you know, I did those things because I care about him and wanted to make him happy, not for future leverage in case I didn’t get my books back…and I was really happy to have somebody to care about and to be able to do those things for, you know? But I don’t understand how it could have devolved into this. My worst nightmare is someone saying, “I can’t love you,” and walking out the door and disappearing forever…and that’s exactly what happened.

I’m not holding out hope he’s going to knock on my freakishly small door and say, “I made a huge mistake!” But it seems pretty rotten to me to just ignore me. I could understand if I was texting him with, “I miss you! Please take me back!” or “Screw you, you manwhore! And give me back my goddamn books!”

But I’m not. I’m trying to be civil…and since I was the one who was so horribly hurt in this escapade, I thought being friendly and nice now would be kind of olive-branch-y, you know? Like, saying, “Yes, I know I was a huge mess the last time you saw me, but I’m basically okay now!”

So…last night, I was debating what to do…and then I got a call from an old coworker saying, “Hey! I just had dinner in your neighborhood — are you around?” So…I met him around the corner from my apartment and he said, “Where should we go?” and I said, “Anywhere but here!” and nodded toward the Bartender’s place. So…we walked up the street to another place…and we talked and caught up and drank…and he really likes my stories, so he always laughs and tells me how funny I am (last time he praised my comic timing — how about that??)…and I hadn’t seen him in awhile, so it was really nice. And…I don’t know how many beers later, I was telling him about trying to get my books back and we had already been out for a good, long time, so we were getting ready to leave…and as I was pointing him to the Subway, the neon lights at the Bartender’s bar shone brightly in the distance and I got all nostalgic and my old coworker said, “We should go in and have one last drink there!” and I said, “Oh, I don’t know…bad things happen when I go into that place…” and he said, “Come on — it’ll be good for you. And I’ll talk to him! I’ll help you get your books back!” And whenever I’m willing to go there, I should always remember that it means I am in no shape to be making decisions like that. But I agreed to go.

It wasn’t particularly crowded…so we were able to get two seats at the bar. The Bartender was behind the bar, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with me. He’s a pretty jealous guy…and, in hindsight, I realized I’ve always gone in there with girlfriends…and so I guess it could have looked like I was on a date or something and that I was rubbing it in his face.

He was wearing a Yankees World Series sweatshirt…so — see? I was right. He *was* really excited. And his stupid boss came out at one point and saw me there and was LOVING the fact that I was there with some guy and that the Bartender wouldn’t acknowledge me.

And, really, I’ve made a complete fool of myself at that place SO MANY times because of him. So they’ve  probably come to expect it of me. And, really, comparatively speaking, this time wasn’t that bad. I didn’t talk to the Bartender. But my old coworker did. And he came back to me and said, “You’ll get your books on Monday. But we should probably go now.”

And then I wanted to know what my old coworker had said and what the Bartender had said…and my old coworker was saying that, you know, he’s no good and I need to move on…blah, blah…and somehow I ended up crying on the sidewalk outside again and blathering on about how I don’t understand how you can just throw somebody away…and that he was always so good with my cat and that even when the little monster bit him, he’d be so patient and kind and call them “love bites,” and I feel like I’m depriving my cat of a father figure now…(see how much sense I was making?)

–

I’m very stubborn. I need to just accept that I’m never going to understand this and that I’ve already wasted too much energy trying to figure it out. And, I mean, some good came out of the Bartender situation — I was finally able to look at my life and what I actually have control over and realized how important it is to me to finish my book…and I’m so close! I’m almost there! And I know my poor little heart can’t go through something like this again…so next time I have to be really, really careful and — like my friend says — protect it.

I just feel a little more sad than usual today about the whole situation. And it won’t be the end of the world if I don’t get these books back. But I don’t understand why things are the way that they are…and how caring about him became this horrible, unforgivable thing…for which I have now been banned from his life.

So…even after that makeover, I’m not sure if I really am New Lisa after all. I am hoping that Costa Rica and my oldest childhood friend will change that. (And, if nothing else, I will try to find solace in knowing that my hair looked damn good last night.)

My bartending style tends to run less towards the carefully measured, tried-and-true recipes and more towards the “What’s in my fridge right now?” trial-and-error method. I rarely use actual measures, because what is “good” depends on how many people are drinking, how liquored up they want to be, and how well they hold all that liquor.

That being said, I have a few favorite drinks that do really well in cold weather.

Peppermint Hot Chocolate:

This ain’t your grandma’s hot cocoa. (Or maybe it is…) I like to add a few drops (or shots) of Peppermint Schnapps to hot chocolate for an immediate warm-up. Make the cocoa with milk if you like it creamier.

Cinnamon Vanilla Cream:

One day my love of Starbucks and alcohol collided, and this drink was born. I just poured some Cinnamon Schnapps into my Vanilla Crème, and – voilà – an innocuous looking brew. Yes, I did keep it all in the Starbucks container. You can make your own Vanilla crème by warming up milk, adding a drop or two of vanilla extract, sugar to taste, and topping it off with whipped cream.

Hot (Spiked) Apple Cider:

First, you need to find some alcoholic apple cider. It’s probably somewhere between the beer and wine sections. Two bottles is a good amount to start with. On the stove, get it simmering with two cinnamon sticks, a tablespoon of cloves, a little bit of sugar and some nutmeg. What really makes it piping hot though, is the addition of either rum or apple brandy. Be generous, ladies – the apple cider has lost most of its alcoholic content in the heating process.

Hot Spiced Wine:

Hot spiced wine is like Sangria, only warm. With cinnamon and cloves. You start by boiling about a ½ cup of sugar in a ½ cup of water (for a 2 bottle recipe). Once the sugar is dissolved into the water, add the wine and spices. When you feel that the mixture has sufficiently blended, turn off the heat and add orange and lemon slices and either rum or brandy to taste. Vodka works too, and you can get creative with the fruit you choose to put in. It is best if you make it an hour or so before you serve it.

For a more sophisticated cocktail try the Blushing Reindeer, or any one of these being made at the hippest New York bars. Personally, if I’m the one making the drinks, I shouldn’t have to work to get drunk. I leave the creative mixology to the bartenders.

Any of your own favorite recipes that you want to share?

[Always drink responsibly. Photo courtesy of countryliving.com]

Asta cred ca isi are locul aici .