Just hours before Labor Day 2010 hits, here’s one last sweet cocktail to go alongside The Bramble, The Dark ‘N Stormy and The Moscow Mule as a drink just right for summer picking.  The Honolulu Lulu is ideal for sipping on your sun-baked balcony, poolside, or to get you through the agony of having to watch the neighbors sniff through your old album collections and mis-matched dish sets during your Labor Day Yard Sale Blowout.

Not to mention that if you plan on making a human sacrifice to your favorite tiki god on a forbidden burial ground deep in the heart of the Kula Kai Caverns, there isn’t a cocktail with a name better suited.

The amount of available differing recipes for a Honolulu Lulu indicate that no version of the drink has ever really taken off, leading just about everyone and their unemployed younger brother to snap up the catchy name, add a list of random ingredients to it, and slap a party parasol on top.

This Lulu recipe, for my taste, featured the most complimentary ingredients.  Sweet and coffee-flavored with minor punches of hazelnut and lime, there’s no denying that this is the sort of drink you might only be interested in ordering if you were situated in The Pirate’s Cove Lounge with Ted Lange as your bartender and the bouncy notes of Kathie Lee Gifford’s “Ain’t We Got Fun!” wafting in from a few decks above.

But if you’ve got the ingredients on hand (I’m guessing it would still be a treat without the simple syrup and the light rum), give it a shot.  And if you don’t have the ingredients on hand, just tuck this recipe for now, away and bust it out while making the preps for your next limbo party.

The Honolulu Lulu

1 1/2 oz. dark rum
1 oz. light rum
1 oz. Frangelico
1/2 oz. Kahlua
3 oz. pineapple juice
1 oz. lime juice
1 tbsp. simple syrup
1 lime wedge

Add all ingredients but the lime wedge into a shaker filled with ice. Shake vigorously. Strain contents out into a collins glass or a hurricane glass with 2-3 cubes of ice. Squeeze juice of lime wedge over the top of the drink, then drop it in.  Serve immediately.

Be very careful when you fix yourself a Dark ‘n Stormy.  Making it incorrectly could land your ass in the slammer.

The drink is actually protected by a trademark owned by the Gosling family, makers of Gosling’s Black Seal Rum.  So technically, if you use any other brand of rum to make this cocktail, you are breaking the law.

The Goslings ain’t kidding either.  Check out this 2009 article from The New York Times.  

I have actually tried this drink with other rums, and I honestly feel that the Black Seal improves it. I’m generally not a rum fan to begin with. The sugary flavor tends to overwhelm my taste buds, but Black Seal’s sweetness is a little darker and aromatic with some hints of vanilla and cinnamon. Met head on by the fizzy pepper flavor of the ginger beer, the rum is blunted just enough to make a fan out of any drinker born without a sweet tooth or a pirate for a mother or father. So steer clear of the half-bottle of Captain Morgan you’ve been holding on to since your college days, and go for the Black Seal. The Gosling family thanks you.

The Dark and Stormy

• 2  ounces Gosling’s Black Seal rum
• 4 ounces Reed’s Ginger Beer
• Lemon or lime slice garnish
• (some variations include up to 1/2 ounce of lime juice)

Fill a glass with ice.  Pour over the rum (and lime juice if including).  Top off with the ginger beer and stir.

A key ingredient here is the crushed ice, which cannot be substituted with cubes for the reason that as the ice melts, the flavor of the drink slowly morphs.  I noticed that the citrus of the lemon juice was slowly overcome by the wonderful full flavor of the berry liqueur, prompting me to hold off on my next sip longer and longer to let the ice have its way with the glass.  The Bramble is another great summer cocktail you won’t mind serving to your grandmother.  It’s light on its feet and will keep you light on yours as well.

The Bramble

• 2 ounces gin
• 1 ounce fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 ounce simple syrup
• 1/2 ounce Crème de Mûre.

In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, shake together the first three ingredients and strain into a rocks glass filled with crushed ice, piled high. Drizzle crème de mûre over the top and garnish with a slice of lemon, two blackberries and a short straw.

Despite the seemingly simple ingredient roster, I have had something of a hard time assembling this drink properly. First and foremost, you may notice in the photos that I am currently out of short straws.  I’m sure you’ll let that one slide, and for that, I thank you.

Secondly, Crème de Mûre is not as easy to find as you might think.  The employees at my local BevMo had never heard of it, didn’t know they carried it, and once their computers told them it was in stock, didn’t know where to find it.  In case you have the problem, direct them to the brandy section, which is where my bottle was found.  I would expect it to be with the other flavored fruity liqueurs, but it was not the case.  So if you can’t find it in one, look for it in the other.  It’s definitely worth the effort.  It tastes, as you might guess, something like blackberry pancake syrup and a few drops of it have already found their way into my vodka martini (I’m not slowly going Sex and the City here.  I’m just trying things out.)

Thirdly was the question of buying simple syrup or simply making it at home. I do enough homemade, so I decided to pop for the $12 bottle.  But if you do want to make it, simply stir together equal measures of hot water and sugar, cool to room temperature and keep in your fridge until ready to use.

Fourth is crushed ice. If you have heard that the best way to crush ice cubes is by wrapping them up in a clean dish towel and whacking the hell out of them with a pan or a heavy spoon, you’re being misled.  EIGHTY-SIX THE DISH TOWEL.  You’ll find that so much of what is cracked sticks uncomfortably and tenaciously to the fabric. Better to pack your cubes in a plastic ziploc bag, crush, use what you need and zip up the rest to keep handy for Bramble #2.

Next, there are debates about the drink-making procedure. Many instruct to add all the ingredients, and pour the Crème de Mûre over the top, creating a beautiful lava lamp cocktail as the crème descends to the bottom of the glass. The argument against that procedure is that the Crème de Mûre doesn’t mix with the drink.

There are two solutions:

The first is to simply float the crème over the top of the drink (for instructions on that, hit up my post on The Harvey Wallbanger).  Your second option is to simply mix all the ingredients in a shaker.

Finally, there is also disagreement over the appropriate fruit to garnish this drink, but since you can substitute your favorite flavored liqueur for the blackberry, you really should go ahead and garnish any way you please.  As long as you have crushed ice awaiting in the glass and follow the portions outlined above, you’re sure to enjoy The Bramble.

The Moscow Mule

• 1 1/2  ounces vodka
• 4 ounces Reed’s Ginger Beer
• Lime wedge garnish
• (some variations include up to an ounce of lime juice and a tsp of sugar syrup)

Fill a glass with ice.  Pour over the vodka (and lime juice and syrup if including) and top off with the ginger beer.

As for the origins of the drink… first it’s important to note (or be reminded of) a time in American popular culture where vodka was not the celebrated, dominating spirit it is now. Through the 1930s, America’s alcoholic drink of choice was decidedly gin.

The credit for popularizing vodka in the U.S. goes to the company of Heublein, Inc., an American alcohol distributor who in 1938 acquired all rights to Smirnoff Vodka, which had its own origins in Moscow in the mid 1860s. The original purchaser of the U.S. rights to Smirnoff failed to gain any traction trying to sell Americans on what they were missing, and turned over the rights to John Martin, the President of Heublein, who hoped to have more success with it.

And initially, he didn’t. At first, vodka only found U.S. admirers in the form of newly-transplanted Eastern European immigrants. The natives simply found it too overpowering.

It wasn’t until the early 1940s when Martin connected with his friend, John Morgan, owner of a English style pub on Sunset Strip called The Cock’n Bull that the Mule started really kicking and the vodka started really pouring!

Morgan was simply looking to unload a few cases of his own unsold ginger beer. The marriage of the two failed beverages was an instant sensation with the Hollywood crowd. From there, Martin’s brilliance for promotion and a little copper cup took the Mule on the rest of its journey to stardom.

Perhaps your grandparents had one of these sitting on a curio shelf and you never had any idea what the hell it was.  Martin had ordered specially engraved “Moscow Mule” copper mugs and set off to market the Mule in bars, one by one, across the country. He went to each tavern to show bartenders how to make the drink, then would have the bartender pose with the copper cup and a bottle of Smirnoff, and with his trusty Polaroid, Martin took two pictures – one to be left behind, and the other taken with him to the next bartender to show him what his competitors were serving patrons.

Between 1947 and 1950, thanks to Morgan, Martin and the Mule, Smirnoff vodka sales skyrocketed in the United States.  For the last ten years, they’ve skyrocketed because of me.

Final note:  Ginger beer is non-alcoholic so don’t look for it in the liquor section of your store. I located mine at Gelson’s and it can also be found at World Market.  Reed’s is the preferred brand and is often referred to specifically in Mule recipes.  Enjoy!

Monday was officially the first day of summer, and here’s the perfect cocktail to conjure up for celebrating the season’s arrival.  It boasts a citrusy aroma without coming off as “fruity,” and its sweetness offsets the alcohol taste without overwhelming it, so with each sip you’re presented with a gentle reminder that your beverage does, in fact, contain spirits.

But the most appealing part of a French Gimlet is the story of how one of its ingredients – the sweetly floral liqueur called St-Germain – makes its way to store shelves.  Let us take a moment to pay tribute the small tribe of French elderberry-picking, bicycle-riding farmers in the French Alps that make St-Germain possible.

St-Germain’s elderberries grow in the foothills of the French Alps and their delicate white blossoms only come into bloom for several weeks in late spring.  French farmers, or paysans, are organized to pedal through the Alpine countryside gathering the blossoms and transporting them to distillery.  I’m not sure exactly how much of this tale I actually believe, but my… such rustic imagery!  Can’t you just hear the accordions and French horns?

Once at the distillery, the elderberries are macerated, and combined with citrus and cane sugar to enhance the natural flavor of the blossoms.  The final product hints of sweet pear, apricot and lychee.  It’s delicious mixed with sparkling wine, a few splashes of club soda, or with lime juice and vodka as done here with the French Gimlet.

The French Gimlet

• 2 ounces Gin or Vodka
• 1 ounce St-Germain
• 1/2 ounce Freshly squeezed lime juice

Pour all ingredients into an ice-filled shaker and shake well. Strain into a Martini glass. Garnish with a lime twist.

And if the liqueur was not impressive enough on its own, take a look at the sleek art deco-ish bottle that will grace your bar.  Straight out of Fred Astaire’s parlor, I tell ya!  Each St-Germain bottle is numbered and branded with the vintage year reflecting the year in which the blossoms were picked.  A fantastic liqueur, and impressive bottle… a great gift.

My birthday is October 21st

“Three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it’s ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon peel. Got it?”

Vesper Lynd is Bond’s very first female interest, and arguably the woman he falls for harder than any who came after.  In the novel, Bond eventually names his prized drink after her, but their love is not to last.  Harboring her status as a double-agent, Vesper eventually realizes her traitorous acts will spell doom to any future she and agent 007 could have, and kills herself, leaving behind a note admitting her guilt, a broken and profoundly stoic lover, and one hell of a hotly-named cocktail

The Vesper Martini

3 oz Gordon’s Gin
1 oz Vodka
0.5 oz (Kina) Lillet Blanc

Shake with ice and strain into a wine glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Kina Lillet, nowadays simply called “Lillet” (pronounced lee-lay), is a French apéritif made from a blend of wine, liqueurs, fruits and herbs, aged in oak vats for up to 12 months. It has a delicate golden orange color with a minty citrusy aroma. As an apéritif, on its own, its quite refreshing. In a Vesper, it holds back the roll of the gin and combines with its counterparts to create a mixture that nearly goes down flavorless (when mixed correctly), but lands in the belly with an unmistakable feverish kick and a deliciously vengeful aftertaste!  So watch out when and if you indulge in them!  Remember, you do NOT have a license to kill.

I have been enjoying this drink for several weeks now, but further research has informed me that the cocktail I’m drinking and the one the humorless literary Bond swallowed down in the 1950s novel differ dramatically.

First off, when Bond ordered his Gordon’s gin, it was 94 proof.  It has since been re-formulated to 80 proof or less.  In addition, the recipe for “Kina Lillet” was changed in 1986 and the quinine content decreased.  So, the Vesper I’m drinking serves up far less bitterness than that in which Fleming’s Bond originally indulged.  No matter.  It’s a fantastically intriguing cocktail, surprisingly delicious yet deceptively deadly!  Give it a try at your next high-stakes black tie evening of Chemin de Fer.

The three-martini lunch is a term used in the United States to describe a leisurely, indulgent lunch enjoyed by businessmen or executives. It refers to a common belief that many businessmen have enough leisure time and wherewithal to consume more than one martini during the work day. Steaks or lobster are sometimes considered a staple of these lunches.

I am pretty sure I myself do not possess the wherewithal to consume three martinis during the work day, but I’d sure love to work for a company that would allow me to attempt the experiment.  Maybe someday I’ll be that lucky.  In the meantime, I will have to restrain myself to enjoying my absolute favorite alcoholic beverage during evening leisure time, in my favorite reading chair, my Ultra Lounge music collection playing out of my iDock, fat ass cat at my feet, some juicy gourmet burgers cooking up in the kitchen, and MG by my side, watching back video of his animated monkey puppet. (no, that is not a euphemism).

There is no definitive account of the invention of the martini, though it is often attributed to an American bartender named Jerry Thomas, whose book, The Bar-Tender’s Guide was the first cocktail book ever published in the United States, way back in 1863, and helped him earn the title, “Father of American Mixology.”

Thomas tended bar at the Occidental Hotel in San Francisco. The story goes that a prospector on his way to or from the town of Martinez (about 45 miles northeast of San Francisco) visited the Occidental, plopped a gold nugget on the bar and demanded a special concotion from Thomas, who served him up a combination of Old Tom Gin, vermouth, bitters, and maraschino, calling it a “Martinez” in honor of the prospector’s destination (or departure point, depending on what version you’re referencing). Here’s how the recipe for the Martinez appeared in a late 19th century edition of The Bar-Tender’s Guide:

• Use small bar glass
• One dash bitters
• Two dashes Maraschino
• One wineglass of vermouth
• Two small lumps of ice
• One pony of Old Tom gin
• SHAKE up thoroughly, and strain into a large cocktail glass.
• Put a quarter of a slice of lemon in the glass, and serve.
• If the guest prefers it very sweet, add two dashes of gum syrup

The name, along with the recipe has of course morphed through the centuries.  The purest version of the modern-day dry martini seems to be a five-to-one mixture of gin and dry vermouth, stirred over ice in a mixing glass and then strained into a cocktail glass, garnished with an olive or lemon slice.  I steer clear of the gin because to me, a gin martini doesn’t go down nearly as smoothly as a vodka martini.  Mixed properly, it hits the tongue like ice-cold spring water with the alcoholic back kick only arriving after the swallow.

• 1 2/3 oz. Vodka
• 1/3 oz. Dry Vermouth

My favorite olive for the martini is one stuffed with a jalapeño.  If you are a regular reader of this site, that probably does not surprise you.  In fact, if you add a spoonful of jalapeño-infused brine from the jar before mixing, you’ll arrive at my own, spicier, revved-up version of the martini, called the Judge Green.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out one of the most enjoyable facets of martini drinking – the traditional long-stemmed martini glass.  They make every drink taste better and every drinker look more sophisticated and fun.  Don’t take my word for it.  Just count the number of neon ones you see hovering over the doorways of drinking establishments on your next drive around town!

The Horse’s Neck is named specifically for its garnish, the long citrus spirals which are laid in the glass to represent a “neck” hanging over the edge. Supposedly, when placed properly, it looks as if a horse is sticking its neck out of your cocktail.

For certain, a Horse’s Neck is THE drink to be relaxing with while watching any of the three Rock Hudson-Doris Day “battle of the sexes” flicks from the 1960s, but none more so than Lover Come Back which features Day and Hudson as rival Madison Avenue advertising execs. And if I am ever lucky enough to be reincarnated as a 1960s Madison Avenue advertising exec, this is the drink I will use to liquor up my potential clients, flatter the hell out of the boss, and celebrate landing the big new panty hose account the whole town’s been buzzing about. Hopefully, I’ll be doing it at a bar called Floyd’s or Charlie’s with crushed red velvet walls and an organ version of “The Girl from Ipanema” lingering in the background.

Yeah, that is definitely the way I’ll go.

Bourbon is very much a “mom and dad” drink in my head, and my mom and dad never even drank it. Thank television. How many times did Darren’s boss from Bewitched swallow down a bourbon after seeing a pink pony magically appear before his eyes only to watch it vanish moments later, signaling the cue for bourbon number two, “and make it a double, Louise!” So in my head, bourbon is and always will be what grown-ups drink when they socialize.

Now that I think of it, Darren on Bewtiched was a 1960s advertising exec as well. Based on my apparent obsession with the era and the profession, you’d think I’d be a bigger fan of Mad Men, but it just ain’t so. I downloaded the first season from iTunes, and got through about six episodes. Not bad, but it just didn’t grab me. I’d watch it with the sound off any day, though. Those suits! That furniture! Pregnant women somking! Kids wrapping their faces up in plastic dry cleaning bags! Good times!

Horse’s Neck

• 1-2 spirals of orange peel
• 2 ounces bourbon
• 4 ounces cold ginger ale

Fill your glass with ice, add bourbon and ginger, then stir. Garnish the side of the glass with the orange peel spirals.

My general rule about a cocktail is that it needs to taste something like liquor so I don’t forget that one too many will send me face first into the nearest potted plant. The Horse’s Neck is walking a fine line in that respect. The sweetness of the ginger ale takes a lot of the sting out of the bourbon and creates a nice uplifting fizz under your nose. You could polish off eight or nine of these at the pool one summer afternoon before you realized you were no longer able to feel your lower extremities. The mountain of ice and slow sipping will help to ward that fate off, so take your time.

This is a drink I’ve been curious about all my life. If my parents weren’t drinking it in the seventies, they were certainly referencing it in conversation as a popular beverage among the kings and queens of the shag carpet set. It was brought up on Match Game routinely. And remember that character actor on Bewitched? The one who played the drunk who was always settled at the bar where Darrin, Larry and their important client would go to lunch as Samantha popped in surreptitiously to investigate and then pop out just as quickly – leaving him to double-take, eye the bottom of his glass questionably and then sputter, “Hey Floyd… another Harvey Wallbanger!”

This drink is fabled in my consciousness. A litany of childhood pop culture references, a sunshiney-day disposition, and one of the best hedonistic names of all time!

The legend of the naming of the Harvey Wallbanger is questionable. The story that, if not true, is certainly the most circulated centers on a Manhattan Beach surfer named Harvey who loved to add Galliano to his screwdriver (which, sadly, is all a Harvey Wallbanger is – oj, vodka and a little Galliano). Poor old Harvey had one too many one night and went slamming into a couple walls on his way out of the bar. True or not, the story’s quirky and disreputable tone is a perfect match for the drink name.

Galliano is a sweet, vanilla-ish liquer named after Giuseppe Galliano, an officer in the Italian Army during the first Italo-Ethiopian War (1895-1896). I possess no Collins glass, which is the glass you’re supposed to serve this in, but I’m sure the Bewitched town drunk wouldn’t have turned down a Wallbanger in a Pilsner beer glass, so why should anyone else mind?

• one ounce vodka
• four ounces orange juice
• 1/2 ounce of Galliano

Pour vodka and orange juice into a Collins glass filled with ice.  Stir, and then float the Galiano over the top.  ”Floating” is also known as “layering” and works like this: pour Galliano into the drink over the back of a bar spoon so as to keep it at the top on its own separate layer (so obviously don’t stir the drink once the Galliano is present). It will remain separate from the rest of the drink because of the difference in density and sugar content.

Arguments about whether or not to garnish the drink abound, but I went ahead and did it. A great sweet, tangy morning or mid-day beverage, this little Wallbanger is.

And for the Bewtiched purists out there… that “town drunk” who also turned up at local parks, local jails and random bus stops on the show was played by Dick Wilson, better known to America as “Please don’t squeeze the Charmin” pitch man, Mister Whipple.

Fresh homemade salsa has become a regular thing with me lately, and any dish I find that can accommodate it is going straight to the top of my “to do” list. More often than not, I’m racing to finish a leftover stash of it from a previous night’s meal. Any more than two days sitting in the refrigerator, and the salsa loses its potency, becomes too watery and stands in the refrigerator merely as a reminder of my inability to reduce recipe measurements when I’m only cooking for myself and MG and not the entire office.

So when I see a recipe or a blog entry (in this case, Smitten Kitchen, yet again that makes room for the salsa, I’m pretty sure it’s to cook up in my kitchen.

Add to the fact that egg dishes are usually pretty easy to conquer, fast to prepare, and good morning, noon and night, and this recipe even had more going for it.

And if you can find an excuse to squeeze in some tequila on a Wednesday night too, well…!

Grab your frijoles and climb on board

• Four eggs
• Four small corn tortillas
• Shredded cheese
• Sour cream
• 1 can of refried beans
• 1 tomato
• 1 bell pepper
• 1/2 medium-sized white onion
• 1 jalapeno pepper
• cliantro
• salt, pepper and cumin for seasoning
• 1 large bottle of tequila
• 1 lime

First off, chop up the tomato, the peppers, the onion and the cilantro into a nice salsa and chill it in the refrigerator for no less than half an hour. Then, take one tequila shot with your significant other, complain about your day, and turn on the television.

Once the salsa has had time to chill, heat up some oil and drop in your corn tortillas. Once they start to brown, flip them over, and sprinkle your shredded cheese over them. At this point, start simmering your refried beans in a skillet and add in a handful or two of shredded cheese. Keep the heat low and stir regularly. As the cheese begins to bubble, stir more frequently, and if necessary, reduce your heat.

This is where Smitten Kitchen concedes that things will get messy… and they did. Break an egg over each cheese-sprinkled tortilla. Smitten Kitchen says, “Don’t worry if it rolls off the edges,” but mine didn’t just roll off the edges, they darted off those tortillas like someone told them they had the swine flu. Add in my clumsiness with kitchen utensils, and a greater mess was made. To counter this, I took another shot, and braved on.

The fun continues! Once the eggs have begun to solidify around the edges, flip your tortilla over again.

Let them cook for another 2-3 minutes, and while they do, take your refried beans to the finish line.

Top with your salsa and sour cream. Throw back another shot for good measure…


And dinner is served! (click on image above for larger view!)