Since our bizarre cold snap seems to have abated (not that I’m complaining—we need the rain here in parched SoCal) and we’re back to warm spring weather, I’m happily back on the tequila bandwagon.

Not that I don’t love tequila at other times during the year, but summer is when I learned how much I love it. Since our hot, dry summers are similar to the weather that produces the agave plant, tequila is a natural fit for residents of Southern California’s unique climate.

I became enamored of tequila because of The Boyfriend. He hails from the High Desert, a blanket term for the northern Mojave, which encompasses a large swath of San Bernadino County, as well as the northern part of Los Angeles and eastern Kern counties. As the name implies, much of the desert is above sea level, and the area is known for high winds, scorching summer temperatures and freezing lows (with snow!) during the winter. It’s inhospitable and wildly beautiful, stretching away in a golden plain until it hits the mountains, with only joshua trees and scrub brush to break up the relentlessly flat earth.

Based on that description, I’m sure it’s clear why tequila and ice-cold beer are the drinks du jour during the 100º+ summers. And, while straight tequila is a wonderful thing, when used correctly it’s also great in cocktails. On my regular internet rounds I’ve been bookmarking tequila recipes here and there and this one worked its was to the top based on the fact that it was 80º outside and I, stupidly, had planned a dinner that required turning on the oven. With my kitchen roasting at a cheerful 95º, I turned to my summer libation of choice and mixed up the Limonada. Continue →

Hopefully you’re as excited as I am about the triumphant return of créme de violette. While the Blue Moon was a lovely drink, it was a bit of a disappointment (comparatively speaking). So, to make up for that, I bring you a long weekend gift in the form of the Violet Fizz.

Those of you who do the cocktail blog rounds will remember this drink from Jamie Boudreau and Paul Clarke, and readers of Imbibe might remember this from one of Dr. Cocktail’s articles. It’s a simple preparation that makes a lovely light little drink that nicely highlights the herbal, floral nature of créme de violette.

I’ve discussed the history of the fizz before, but I’ll recap a bit: A cousin of the sour family, it is a simple mix of liquor, citrus juice (generally lemon) and carbonated water. The Violet Fizz is a variation on the ever-popular gin fizz, which is composed of gin, lemon juice, sugar, and soda water. The inclusion of egg is a common variation on the fizz theme, which also results in a new class of names: “silver” if you use egg white, “gold” for egg yolk, “royal” for a whole egg. If you work an egg white into the Violet Fizz, it becomes the Fizz a lá Violette. Which is probably more than you needed to know, but you can knock ‘em dead with trivial cocktail knowledge over barbeque on Sunday. Continue →

This, as so many things in my life, started with a book. A cookbook, to be more precise. I have something of a compulsive personality and used book stores are a weakness of mine. If I see one, pass one, hear about one—be it home or away—I have to visit. Used book stores are often filled with many of the same things; multiple copies of past Oprah’s Book Club selections, dog-eared and highlighted textbooks, a variety of Betty Crocker cookbooks from years past. Beside and around those books, though, live little treasures. Forgotten tidbits of history, culture, imagination, little time capsules that can transport you to childhood, to your grandmother’s kitchen, to eighteenth century India—books that you can hardly find anywhere any more unless you take the time to seek them out and discover them anew.

Which has absolutely nothing to do with my purchase of Mario Batali’s Babbo Cookbook, being neither forgotten nor ancient, but I did find it during a regular foraging jaunt to my local bookshop. It’s not the sort of book I would buy new, as I can make or adapt perhaps half of the recipes, but as I flipped through it I noticed the introductory section on aperitivi and I was sunk. Having been fortunate enough to sample from the drink menu at Osteria Mozza, I knew that Babbo’s drinks would be high quality. The book came home with me.

It features about eight aperitivi recipes from prosecco cocktails to the Negroni, but we chose to start with the Cin Cyn because it meant playing around with Cynar, the artichoke liqueur. I’d only had Cynar in perhaps two cocktails, so I was excited to give this a try. As luck would have it, I had a back issue of Imbibe handy which also contained a recipe for the Cin Cyn, albeit in different proportions. Being a conscientious and diligent reporter, I just had to try both recipes to see which one we preferred. Continue →

Like a teddy bear nanny-cam, this drink appears unassuming. All its constituent parts sound appealing and the drink as a whole seems to be very pleasant. A little too pleasant. I saved this one for a Friday because it’s dangerous—I mean nitroglycerin dangerous. You’ll be happily sipping along, enjoying the balance and composition of your cocktail and think “Gee, another would be delightful!” Before you know it, things have spiraled out of control and you’re sprawled face-down on the lawn at 3am wondering why drinking out of the sprinkler seemed like a good idea. Definitely not a brilliant plan on a Wednesday.

So I bring you this delightful cocktail and a warning: if you make one of these, you will not stop at the first, and possibly not even the second, drink. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say.

I had put off making this entry from Intoxica! because, like a crow with a mirror, I’m easily distracted by shiny objects and bottles of liquor and inevitably ended up neglecting to purchase cognac because I was so busy ogling rum or créme de violette or allspice dram (or *cough* ginger beer). I finally managed to become distracted by brandy and, as such, the Sundowner finally became a reality.

This drink originated at the Kon-Tiki, a Polynesian-style restaurant chain in Sheraton hotels developed to rival the Hilton’s Trader Vic establishments. Though the Kon-Tiki is long gone, if this drink is any indication the Sheraton spent its money wisely developing their little slice of the tiki craze. While it’s no Mai Tai, the Sundowner will definitely turn your lights out if you aren’t careful. Continue →

Mixology Monday returns, complete with a fancy new logo! Hosted by Blair over at Trader Tiki, this month’s theme is the demon rum. Be sure to check his site for a complete roundup of this month’s cane-liquor delights.

But now, on to the booze! I realized not too long ago that, despite my frighteningly in-depth coverage of ginger beer, I’ve never written up the Dark & Stormy. Oh, the horror!

I absolutely fell in love with this drink one summer at the Tiki-Ti—it hardly seems worth it to order such a simple highball from a bar where you can get an absolutely sublime Navy Grog or Zombie, but I was on a mission to try everything on the menu. (Given that there are about 80 drinks on there, I’m still working on it.)

The Dark & Stormy is a simple recipe, a cousin of the Moscow Mule and the Mamie Taylor: base spirit, lime juice, ginger beer. It’s also similar to the buck, which uses lemon instead of lime but follows the same formula.

Having recently picked up a bottle of Gosling’s Black Seal and, fortuitously, having some dark (though not stormy) weather happening of late, I set about tinkering with recipes. After working with a few different proportions, I’ve settled on Jeff Morgenthaler’s. It offers the best flavor and balance—though the recipe doesn’t include lime juice, I included a healthy squeeze of lime in mine for some tartness. Continue →