You are currently browsing the monthly archive for July 2011.

Hopefully you’re lucky enough to work, as I once did, in an industry that abides by Summer Fridays — last afternoon of the week off, Memorial Day through Labor Day.

If you’re not, let’s make-tend like you do with a super-short blog post. Gotta catch the Jitney to the Hamptons, where beachside cocktails await!

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The moral of this week is: Take things literally. Yesterday I blogged about my Breakfast of Champions, an original cocktail o’mine that bears more than a passing resemblance to a Moon Over My Hammy at Denny’s – and yes, it’s a little embarrassing for a high-functioning alcoholic mature mixologist to admit to such levels of kitsch. Today’s recipe, while not quite so blatant, was likewise created via an over-the-top approach.

The basic premise was to construct a swizzle using the sweetest ingredients we (Sean and I) could think of, but somehow manipulate them into a drink that tasted better than, say, a shot of insulin with a Blow Pop chaser. Our secondary goal was to make a juice-less swizzle — which, according to rather strict definitions I’ve found and mentioned here before, means it technically wouldn’t be a swizzle, but whatevs — as our at-home citrus stock was low.

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This is the story of how a post-theater drink transmogrified in four days’ time into a cocktail made for first thing in the morning — although not really, just in a jokey way — and how your blogtender Sloshy got her groove back along the way.

So Thursday night, I went to see The Normal Heart (OMG GO) on Broadway with my friend Jackie, and afterwards the PhoBlograpHusband met us in midtown for a tipple or two. (It wound up being three, natch.) Beforehand, I’d scoped out this new-ish Theater District bar online called The Rum House, which is on the ground floor of the deliciously retro (if a shade shady) Hotel Edison, and as it’s from the guys behind Ward III in Tribeca, I figured we should check it out.

The lighting was perfectly dimmed and someone was playing away on the upright piano, so I liked The Rum House instantly. On its cocktail menu was a simple creation whose name now escapes me, comprised of bourbon, egg white and one of the countless Amaro liqueurs, served on the rocks. How had I not thought of something like this before? Then again, how was it possible that my home bar still lacked an Amaro, given the number of times I’d lustily ogled bottles of it behind the bars at such reputable establishments as Otto, Mario Batali’s awesome enoteca, and Brooklyn’s Watty & Meg?

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You all remember my friends Steve and Demian, don’t you? Inventors/advocates of such wondershots as Little Beers and the PB&J? Well, who better to provide us with a kitschy, holiday-themed shooter on this most sweltering of national holiday weekends? (They are also great party-throwers; I will be spending the night of the 4th on their Battery Park City rooftop, watching the fireworks over the Hudson River .)

SteveAndDemian — I just decided they’re one of those couples who need only go by one name… Stevian? — found a recipe for the Red, White and Blue at but did not find a particular part of it easy to follow: “The key to layered shooters like this is to slowly pour the ingredients over a bar spoon in a certain order according to the density of the liquid. It takes a little practice but after a few tries you’ll have the perfect Red, White and Blue layers inside your shot glasses.”

Sayeth Steven (just Steven) in response, “This did NOT work for me. With Demian’s help, we learned that we had to dilute the blue curacao with a little bit of water to make it float on the Schnapps more easily. Now, the chemist in me had to make this very scientific, so the modified recipe goes something like this…”

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