I took a few days off to celebrate the New Year. Did some hiking and exploring with the family, drank a beer and ate a burger in a gloriously empty outdoor biergarten, practiced a little chainsawing and tractoring around the farm, even played some video games and read some books. I did not go to the office, or pay attention to political shenanigans going on or make any cocktails that I felt compelled to write about, though I did make some at the request of my bride. Alas, all good things must come to an end, and the bad ones as well. So I was back in the office today, doing some work, catching up on the news and now I am back behind the bottles making a little something to share with you, gentle readers. The sun comes up and the world still spins, as they say. Or at least that is what I said fourish years ago at the beginning of this chapter and it is still true here at the end. Watching folks make some odd decisions I was reminded of an old fable and a drink. So, won’t you please join me now as we stand and make the classic Scorpion.
Here we are on Christmas Eve with the penultimate drink on our list for this penultimate day of the Christmas season. I am pretty sure that the only reason people ever work through lists like this is for the opportunity to use penultimate correctly and I am contractual obligated to do so. I hope you will forgive the repetitiveness. I have a lot rituals that go with this day, most of which did not quite work out in Covid world. It is kind of hard to do some good for random strangers while actively avoiding contact with people as much as possible, but we were able to do some good and now it is time to relax and reflect a bit. So in that spirit, please join me for this eleventh of The 12 Drinks of Christmas. Sing along at home, if you like, because, “For the eleventh drink of Christmas, Uncle Monkey made for me, the Horwich Hall”.
There are all kinds of treats that we only enjoy during the holiday season. We rarely have candy canes, those awesome chocolate oranges that break apart into wedges or snickerdoodles in May. Then there are those treats we enjoy more often, but are extra special this time of year. What would Christmas be without a big creamy mug of Hot Chocolate? Well, we aren’t going to find out, but we are going to sexy it up a bit and make a more adult version of this decadent treat with a nod to those chocolate oranges. So in that spirit, please join me for the seventh of The 12 Drinks of Christmas. Sing along at home, if you like, because, “For the seventh drink of Christmas, Uncle Monkey made for me, Orange Hot Chocolate”.
You play a lot of roles every day, with varying success. Some days you nail the business stuff, but let a friend down. Other days you are a decent husband but drop the ball as a father. Every once in a while you mail it all in and take a zero day. It’s rare that you get it all right. The good news is, it is equally rare that you get it all wrong. Lots of little wins and little losses, hoping that it all balances out in the end and that you get more wins in the things that matter and take your losses in the superfluous stuff. I won some today and lost some and that makes me tired. So, won’t you please join me as we stand and make Between the Sheets.
Needless to say, I’m a big fan of pirates. All my life, they’ve been there on some level and piracy in its various forms has had a larger influence on who I am than anything else I can think of. I’m also a big film buff and these two worlds collide hard in the amount of my life spent with Yul Brynner, Charlotte Heston and many more in 1958’s The Buccaneer. This semi-accurate classic tells of the Battle of New Orleans and how my favorite pirate, Jean Lafitte, helped to save the fledgling United States. So it’s with a steady eye toward unhealthy anti-hero worship that I ask ask you to join me as we stand and make, The Curse of Jean Lafitte.
I’ve been thinking about New Orleans lately, a lot. I’m not sure if I am missing it or if it is missing me, but there is something in the air. Who am I kidding? I am missing everywhere. I’ve been having dreams about dinners in truck stops in Oklahoma and driving across Kansas. Both noble activities, but hardly exciting, well except during tornado weather. Where was I, oh, dreaming about cafe au lait and beignets, green ones and yellow ones and wondering if the room is spinning or if it’s just me in the bar at the Hotel Montelone. Yeah, I know what it means to miss New Orleans. So, join me as we stand and make a Crescent City classic, the Vieux Carre.