O’ you lost and forgotten child, cup of memory from a time more mild. When winter’s chill was not yet come, you were born and placed in the album. There you waited, your story unwritten, blind and lost as a newborn kitten. Will you join us as we explore the past? Remember the forgotten, their part recast. While the spring winds blow and thunders clash Help us mix the Autumn Ash.
You never know what you are going to get when it comes to the holidays in the South. Winter in Tennessee is a bit of a mixed bag. I’ve seen a few White Christmases and I have worn shorts and linen sweating through last minute shopping on Christmas Eve. Sometimes we even get both ends of the spectrum in one day. I woke this morning to frost on the ground and bundled up in a nice cardigan before heading off to work. By mid afternoon the high was in the 70’s and I had to shed that light sweater. A few hours in the breeze and that afternoon sun and I could feel my face burning ever so slightly. So, with a nod toward our ever changeable weather, won’t you join me now as we stand and make Color in Your Cheeks.
We are stepping into the wayback machine today for another of those sometimes wonderful, always in your face, pre-Prohibition cocktails. In fact, this is one of the first drinks to use what would become the practical definition of a cocktail with the addition of bitters to a classic Sling. We’ll get into all of that and why an apple a day will keep the doctor away after the break, if you will please join me as we stand and make, the Jersey Sunset.
We haven’t done a brunch drink in a while, so that’s where we are going today. The wife surprised us this morning with some avocado toast, yeah, we are kinda bougie like that sometimes. This one would have actually been more appropriate yesterday when the boy harangued her into French Toast, even though she’s not a fan. I guess she figured it was a step up from his usual Cinnamon Toast Crunch. So, if you are feeling a little extra and want to do something decadent, join me now as we stand and make the French Toast Flip.
Well, we made it to December. That feels like an accomplishment this year, though I don’t hold any hope that on January 1 we will be released from the curse of 2020. I fear it will be more of the same, kicking off with three weeks of wtf, but hopefully I am wrong and the sun will rise on 2021 with a new glimmer for all of us. The good news about making it this far is it is definitely the holiday season now. I always hold that after you clear the turkey from the table you are ready to cue the Christmas music and put up the tree, or set out the menorah or place the Festivus pole or prepare for the Yule or Kwanzaa or whatever your preferred holiday celebration calls for even if that is nothing at all. The point is there is no question that by the top of the 12th month you are free and clear to spread your brand of cheer. So, in that spirit, won’t you please join me now as we stand and make General Harrison’s Nog.
It’s definitely autumn. The frost in the mornings, that low angle golden light in the afternoon playing through the falling leaves. You can’t help but think of the bounty of the harvest and, for me, all the apple things. Cider, turnovers, dried slices, apple butter and fine fall cocktails. So, please join me now as we stand and make the Montparnasse.
I often worry about unfinished business. It keeps me up at night, which is crazy because, ultimately, we all leave the game with pieces on the table. Plans unfinished, things left unsaid and plenty of stuff we just never got around to, those are the things that worry me. So let’s complete a task as we stand and make The Avenue.
We’ve been out playing in the rain, so I was looking for something cool to drink but with a warm feeling. Yeah, that doesn’t make sense, I recognize that. Maybe it will work out, maybe it won’t. I guess we will find out soon. So, please join me as we make the Applejack Rabbit.
As Moss would say, “Did you see that ludicrous display last night?” I figure we could all use a drink after that. Something tasty, maybe a bit exotic, well, not actually exotic, but something with a faux nostalgic feeling for a bygone era when travel was an adventure and you could still actually do it. When a trip to Europe passed from New York through Newfoundland to the Azores and on to Lisbon, landing in the water in one of those amazing planes of yesteryear, with crystal in the dining room and sleeper berths. So, join me now as we stand and make the Pan American Clipper.
I like old movies, a lot. There are whole periods of my life when I didn’t sleep much and mostly spent my nights watching them. Not just the classics, but the mid-range stuff too. Hours spent learning how to be a fella from Bogart, Cary Grant, Clark Gable, Errol Flynn, Jose Ferrer. It is crazy how much influence movies and books from your formative years have on who you become, or at least who you try to become. There are a handful of these films that are truly old friends. Those few ragged VHS tapes that traveled with me, always ready to keep me company at 2:57 AM. Liam has “a thing” with 3 minutes later than that so I had to change the time to mollify him. One of those came to mind the other night as I was thinking about drinks, so join me as we stand and make the Pink Lady.