There are more than just bananas in there...

Tag: fernet branca (Page 1 of 3)

Chef’s Kiss

After a rainy night with winds rushing through the leafless trees, we have settled into one of those trademark muddy, grey January days. Secretly, I always sort of enjoy this kind of weather, perfect for cuddling up in your cardigan with a good book, while something savory simmers on the stove. Getting lost in a story while the flavors slowly melt together and the scent of comfort floats on the air, full of the promise of a taste of home coming when the grey finally shifts to black. That’s a good way to spend any day, taking the time to do things right. So, if you enjoy that sort of thing, won’t you join me in the kitchen as we stand and make the Chef’s Kiss.

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Rabbit Hole

I tend to geek out about things. I just can’t help it. I get to thinking about something and suddenly I want to know all of the things. It is not enough to get a good overview, I want to get bogged down in the minutiae of things. I have been that way about syrups and shrubs lately. Making things just to learn a new technique or to play with an ingredient. So I find myself in the kitchen dicing strawberries, pineapple and garlic, chasing some elusive taste through the culinary underbrush. Sometimes it works out, sometimes we get the benefit of having an experience, but either way it is always educational and as the Viscount once said, “education is never a waste.” So with that in mind, won’t you join me now as we stand and make the Rabbit Hole.

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Follow That Black Rabbit

I am not a huge fan of orthodoxy, at least not according to Webster. The idea of “authorized or generally accepted theory, doctrine, or practice” seems alright on paper, but in practice it feels a lot more like stagnation and acceptance for acceptance sake. Still, I had a wonderful drink in my back pocket left unused after the Easter holiday, so why not embrace orthodoxy and celebrate Orthodox Easter a week later, which kind of flies in the face of accepted theory, doctrine or practice. Life can be funny that way, so won’t you join me now as we subversively stand and make the surprisingly unorthodox Follow That Black Rabbit.

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Final Countdown

The more things change the more they stay the same or so they say. It sure feels that way lately. I grew up in a world where the tenuous peace of the cold war depended on the concept of “mutually assured destruction”, as MAD as that sounds. That is how we lived, though. They had enough missiles to destroy us many times over and we had even more than they did. Everyone knew that they could not push the button because no one would survive if it ever came to that. It is a particularly unsettling way to live. Knowing that every little provocation came with the threat that life as you know it can be destroyed completely on the whim of a madman. So with a look back to a way of life I through we had learned better than, won’t you join me now as we stand and make the Final Countdown.

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Industry Sour

We all like to peek behind the curtain. To learn the secrets of the trade, how the sausage gets made. To feel like we have an understanding and appreciation of the process that others don’t quite get. It’s human nature. We are inquisitive. We want to know more, to understand the secret language of the professional. So, with a nod toward our own longing to belong, won’t you join me now as we stand and make the Industry Sour.

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Color in Your Cheeks

The Twelve Drinks of Christmas: Volume 2, Drink 2

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.

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Haberdasher

It is amazing what we think we know. I don’t mean things we have opinions about, statistically speaking at least half of those are wrong anyway. I am not talking about misinformation or folks who just don’t want to hear the truth or that surprisingly attractive brand of willful ignorance, though those are bigger problems than ever. Nope, I am looking squarely in the mirror and contemplating things I know to be true, only they aren’t. So, with a nod toward lifetime learning and doing better when we know better, won’t you join me now as we stand and make the Haberdasher.

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Angel’s Tit

Having survived the terror of All Hallow’s Eve once again, All Saint’s Day is now upon us. That’s never really meant much to me, beyond being time to take down the skeletons and turning the jack o’lanterns around to just be pumpkins as we pass from the Halloween season on our way to turkey day. I miss the spookiness already. Frankly, I am better equipped for ghost stories by the campfire than this general celebration of Autumn which feels more like Thanksgiving’s waiting room than an actual season. Still, the tide rises and the tide falls and we are all called to the next step on this one way trip into the future, so eyes forward. Since we have spent the last week exploring the hellish side of cocktails, so today we are going for a little taste of heaven, if you will join me now as we stand and make the Angel’s Tit.

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Vampire’s Kiss

I am leaning in to Halloween this year. I don’t know why, but I am ready for all of the holidays and this first is always one of my favorites. So, I have been staring longingly at the leaves, willing them to change, looking to the north for a chill that does not come and waiting for that crisp bite in the air that announces the season of the witch. October took its sweet time about it, but finally here in the waning days that wind picked up and blew those leaves from the trees to announce that, indeed, something wicked this way comes. To kick things off properly, we made some chili, lit some candles and settled in to introduce the wife and child to some old friends from Santa Carla. So, in honor of those lost boys and the girls who love them, won’t you join me now as we stand and make the Vampire’s Kiss.

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Fernet Ramos

I went to a funeral today. My great uncle passed quietly in his sleep at the age of 97 while I was out of town. I accompanied my grandma as she said farewell to her brother and could not help thinking how most of that generation is gone now. The people I grew up looking up to, the leaders of the family. All those great aunts and uncles, stepping up to take their turn as elders before moving on to whatever comes next. It gives one pause. Lin Manuel sang, “I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory” in Hamilton, and I get it. Though it never used to cross my worried mind, the older I get the mori memento-ing I find myself doing. So, with thoughts of that undiscovered country, I am not ready to explore yet, won’t you join me now as we stand and make, the Fernet Ramos.

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