Drink of the Moment: Harvey Wallbanger

This is a drink for when you want to just cut out, and get blasted in a hurry. Perfect for trying to forget the Steelers winning the Super Bowl. It tastes good, goes down easy, and is easy to mix.

The drink first cropped up in California in the 1950s, and spread across the nation when it became the featured cocktail of TWA. I guess it works well for curing a fear of flying too. In the words of Modern Drunkard Magazine, this cocktail says that...

You, or someone a lot like you, will inspire Alcoholics Anonymous to abandon the twelve-step program in favor of indiscriminate Tasing.

Sounds about right.

To make this drink, you will need Vodka, Orange Juice, and Galliano. Take 1.5 ounces of Vodka and 3 ounces orange juice, pour both into a Highball glass on the rocks. Stir the mixture, then float half an ounce of Galliano. Then garnish with a cherry or an orange slice. Take a sip, and picture yourself trying to convince everyone that there's something on the wing.

The drink is surprisingly potent. The story behind the name is that supposedly at the party where this drink was invented, a guest named Harvey had a few, then spent the next day banging his head against the wall cursing the drink. I could see that happening easily. The main variation that I know of is called the Hillary Wallbanger, and it substitutes the Vodka in favor of white wine. It's a lot weaker, but if you don't want to kill yourself, it's a good option. See you at the bar.

Drink of the Moment: The Vesper

"Just a moment. 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?"

If there's an author this side of Earnest Hemingway who really knew his liquor, it was Ian Flemming, the creator of secret agent James Bond. In honor of the release of Quantum of Solace, I bring you the drink Flemming created through 007, The Vesper.

The Vesper was introduced in Flemming's 1953 novel, Casino Royal. During a high stakes game of Baccarat. Bond invents the drink when asked if he'd like a drink from the bar. When Felix Lighter, one of the other players comments on the drink, Bond says this.

"I never have more than one drink before dinner. But I do like that one to be large and very strong and very cold and very well-made. I hate small portions of anything, particularly when they taste bad. This drink's my own invention. I'm going to patent it when I can think of a good name."

He ends up naming it in honor of Vesper Lynd, the double agent for the Soviets that he's bedding at this time.

As you can read above, the drink involves Gin, Vodka, and Kina Lillet. However, if you want to make an accurate Vesper, you must keep in mind that this recipe was devised in 1953, when men were men, and alcohol was strong. Gordon's Gin has been cut down in proof, and most vodkas currently sold are 80 proof. Kina Lillet isn't made anymore. They replaced it with Lillet Blanc, which has no quinine in it, so it lacks any real bite to it.

To get around these issues, there are several quick fixes. Many modern gins maintain the 94 proof of 50's Gordon's. 100 proof vodka is easy to find. A dash of quinine powder turns a Lillet Blanc back into Kina Lillet. The quinine powder might be difficult to find, so if you can't get your hands on it, substitute in 2 dashes of Angostura Bitters.

You wind up with 3 oz 94 proof gin, 1 oz 100 proof vodka, 1/2 oz of Lillet Blanc, and a dash of Quinine Powder (or two dashed bitters). Shake until cold, then strain into a Cocktail glass, or a deep champagne goblet if you want to be true to Bond. Garnish with a long thin lemon peel. Take a sip, and picture yourself heads up with Le Chiffre.

Drink of the Moment: Kamikaze

Ah, the Kamikaze, the signature drink of Corvallis' Crowbar. Great drink. Rumor has it that the drink was first poured on a US military base in occupied Japan. I doubt it, but it's a good story.

To make the Kamikaze, you'll need Vodka, Triple Sec, and lime juice. Mix them in equal parts in a shaker with ice. Shake it well, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a slice of lime. Sit back, and imagine yourself in Tokyo, with the crazy lights, and hotel rooms reminiscent of Kramer's dresser.

Like any other cocktail, the Kamikaze has a lot of variations. If you add a half ounce of Maui Blue, you'll get a Nuclear Kamikaze. If you add an ounce of cranberry juice, you get a disturbingly named, Kamikaze on the Rag. Swap the vodka for gin, and you get a London Kamikaze.

Drink of the Moment: Tequila Sunrise

The Tequila Sunrise is another classic western drink. The drink is named for the color spectrum that comes out when the drink settles. It's also become synonymous with an early morning hangover. First made in Arizona, it was popularized in 1973 by the Eagles song, "Tequila Sunrise", again in 1988 after a Mel Gibson movie sharing the name, and again in 1998 after Cypress Hill wrote a song with the same name. The drink has about a 10 year cycle, and I'm bringing it back!

To make the tequila sunrise, you need orange juice, grenadine, and tequila. Take a highball glass, and fill it with ice. Add 3 parts tequila and 6 parts orange juice. Stir the drink, then add 1 part grenadine. Let the grenadine settle to the bottom of the glass, and do not stir. Garnish with a cherry or an orange wedge, I prefer the orange, but to each their own. Take a sip and picture yourself waking up bleary eyed... on second thought, picture yourself enjoying a beautiful sunrise after a night out with some good friends.

There are many variations to the Tequila Sunrise. The Caribbean Sunrise replaces the Tequila with rum, the Siberian Sunrise replaces it with vodka, the Kentucky Sunrise with bourbon, and the Malibu Sunrise uses Coconut rum. If you add 1/2 an ounce of lime juice to the drink, you get an Arizona Sunrise. Throw in a couple ounces of Peach Schnapps, and you'll get the Fuzzy Sunrise, a favorite of the ladies. Replace the Orange Juice with 7up to create a Bloody Hurricane. There is a drink called the Tequila Sunset, that uses blackberry brandy in the place of grenadine.

Drink of the Moment: B-52

Here's another shooter for ya'll. The B-52 is a drink that'll go down smooth, taste decent, and leave you feeling warm.

The B-52, like the Martini, has a somewhat murky past. We know it was first made in the 1970s. Some will point to California, others to Canada, and still others to New York... again. The B-52 kind of feels like a Canadian drink to me, and certainly not a New York drink.

The B-52 is a layered drink, and like all layered drinks, it is not "poured" or "mixed", it is "built". To build a B-52, you'll need Grand Marnier, Kahlua, and Irish Cream.

Begin with a shot glass. Pour 1 part Kahlua into it. Then take a spoon, and carefully pour 1 part Irish Cream onto the back of the spoon, so that it gently layers on top of the Kahlua. Next take 1 part Grand Marnier and layer it on top of the Irish Cream. If you've done it correctly, then it should have three pronounced layers. Down the shot, and picture yourself riding the bomb to ground zero.

There's a special variation of the B-52 that a lot of people are interested in making, but very few people I've seen have actually done it correctly. This is the Flaming B-52. The first thing I must stress is that you need to be sure to have a flameproof shot glass. Be certain of it, or this could get messy. The preparation is the same except that you sub in a over proof rum, like Bacardi 151, instead of the Grand Marnier. Fill it to the top, so that you don't expose any more heat than is needed to the glass. Lite the rum, and sip it through a fireproof straw. You can try to down it as a shot, but that needs skill, and if you screw up, you could very easily scorch your esophagus. It's not worth it.

The drink stays in layers because of the differences in the specific gravities of the liquors. If you know the specific gravity of a different liquor, then you can easily create an infinite variety of variations simply by subbing the new ingredient in the right slot. If you pour them out of order though, the layering will be ruined. The taste however, will not.

Drink of the Moment: The Martini

Ah, the Martini. The quintessential "cool" cocktail, staple lunch item of businessmen throughout America, and icon of the heroes of the Jet Age.

The Martini's history is somewhat murky. Some attribute it as a streamlining of the more complex "Martinez", first made in Martinez, California in the late 19th century. The New York Times claims that the Martini originated in 1912, in the Big Apple's Knickerbocker Hotel. Personally, I think New York's getting greedy.

The Martini really began to clinch it's mystique when it became know as the drink of choice of such personalities as Ernest Hemingway, Dean Martin, FDR, Dr. Robert Oppenheimer, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Truman Capote, Winston Churchill, and of course, Ian Flemming's James Bond.

There are two primary types of martini, the Gin Martini and the Vodka Martini. Both can be used in the same ratios, but the preparation differs slightly between the two. The ratios vary wildly depending on whom you ask, but I'm more a classic martini drinker.

To make the Martini you'll need 3 parts either gin or vodka, and 1 part dry vermouth.

If you're making a gin martini, pour the two ingredients into a shaker with ice and stir. Strain it into a cocktail glass and garnish. You'll want to have both ingredients chilled before hand. If you shake the drink, you'll kill the vermouth, and bring the gin too far to the front.

If you're making a vodka martini, place the two ingredients into a shaker filled with ice, shake vigorously, then strain into a cocktail glass and garnish. Keep the vodka cool, but not chill, so that the temperature differential will lower the bite of the alcohol. The key is to shake it hard to maximize the chilling at that point. If the vodka's too cold at first, then it'll overpower the vermouth, but if the drink doesn't get cold enough by the time it's drunk, it'll taste a little too thick.

The garnish is traditionally a martini olive on a toothpick. Some prefer a lemon twist, some a Marciano cherry. Myself, I go for three olives. Go with your gut, but don't be afraid to try new things. Once you've finished garnishing, take a sip, and imagine yourself in a tuxedo.

The amount of each ingredient used will vary. The modern martini is 5:1 gin to vermouth. The european martini is 6:1. The Old Martini is 2:1. Some recommend coating the ice cubes with vermouth to impart flavor, without actually adding vermouth to the drink. Some of the extra dry martinis might go as high as 10:1 or 15:1. Winston Churchill's martini was famed for being made from 3 parts gin, and a glance at a bottle of vermouth from across the room.

There are a ton of variations on the martini. I'll cover just the bare bones here. A perfect martini uses 1/2 part dry vermouth and 1/2 part sweet vermouth. A dirty martini adds some olive juice to mask the alcohol. A naked martini is made with no ice, but the ingredients and glass chilled.

Drink of the Moment: The Chocolate Cake Shot

And now for something a little different.

This is a little complicated and subtle, so this is not a drink to be bought on the fifth or sixth round. Try it early in the night,and don't be stingy, the ladies love these. This drink is a ritual shooter, akin to a Ritual Tequila.

You'll need vanilla vodka, a hazelnut liqueor like Frangelico, sugar, and a lemon wedge.

First things first, take a shot glass and line the rim with sugar. Then take the lemon wedge and coat it in sugar. Next, take one part vanilla vodka and one part hazelnut liqueor and stir them together and pour into the shot glass. Now the drink is prepared.

Unlike the other cocktails I've written about here, this drink needs to be drunk an a particular fashion. First down the shot. It will taste like ass. Next bite into the lemon wedge and suck on it. That aftertaste of ass will suddenly be transformed into the taste of chocolate cake, and if you really buy into it, it almost feels like you're biting into a big piece of chocolate cake.

There really aren't any ways to change it up. Some people proscribe orange vodka instead of vanilla... they are idiots, vanilla's the way to go.

The Long Weekend.

July 4th is a great day, not just for the historical significance, but because it's the day where outdoor activities, food, drinks, and explosives, all cross paths. It's amazing what a fun combination those can be.

I rode out towards Poulsbo with my best friend, Jeff, and my best friend's brother, Dave. We stopped at an Indian Fireworks booth, and picked up $100 worth of fireworks. 5 packs of sparklers, 2 packs of roman candles, and a mortar with 10 shells. Once those were secured, we stopped by the casino, and played craps. I brought in $40 and left with $55, Jeff came in with $200 and left with $365. The gambling gods were kind to us.

Back at Jeff's place, we played some GTA IV, and killed some time before the girls showed up. The girls promptly decided to try and make things awkward by going and picking up my younger sister. Not going to spoil my fun. I promptly made myself a drink, comprised of 2 oz Malibu Rum, 2 ounces Grenadine, 2 ounces Blue Curacao, filled with club soda. I stirred it, flamed an orange peel, an threw an orange twist in as garnish. Tasted like grape Kool-aid. The orange I bought from Safeway was too dry, so the citrus oil didn't come through like I wanted.

Drink in hand, we marched down to the beach, and proceeded to lob fireworks into the sky. We burned through pretty much our whole stock, save three mortar shells we were going to fire when the girls got back. There were a lot of people there, and therefore a lot of fireworks, but I still kind of miss the massive displays the army would put on for posts. Then again, it certainly beat the pants off the show put on when I was at Fort Benning for the 4th in 2006.

The girls showed up, and decided they wanted to sit in the hot tub rather than set off the fireworks immediately. Killjoys.

Eventually we coerced them down to the beach, and set off the remaining mortar shells, plus a few special bursts. Remember those sparklers we bought? It's amazing what you can do with those.

We capped of the night with a game of beer pong, and went home. I got to sleep at 0330...

And was promptly woken up at 0630 by my dad, with whom I was going to the Heritage Car Races at the lovely Pacific Raceways. Fun, but I would have loved to have slept some more. We picked up a couple of my Dad's friends before we left town, and I have been sworn to secrecy as to their identities. They both have jobs with the city that require them to champion environmentalism, but they were closet car fanatics, and very enthusiastic and knowledgeable. We'll call them #1 and #2.

The ride to the raceway was dominated by two discussions. One was about how the dismal grey sky was just the marine layer, and surely would burn off to reveal a clear sunny day by noon at the latest. The other, and far more interesting, was about cars, ranging from the time #1's first car stopped at a red light, only to watch one of the wheels continue on the route, the time I saw an Enzo parked outside the Staples in Bellvue, to the 959 that Bill Gates got so many speeding tickets in that his license got pulled.

Once we got to Pacific Raceways, we enthusiastically rushed around staring at the cars parked in the club section. Dad lamented selling his 914 as he stared at an infantry blue 2.0 for sale for a little over $10K. #1 kept staring at an old 6 cylinder Jag, even though he knew the reputation for older British cars to be beautiful looking and beautiful sounding pieces of shit. #2 simply mused about what could have been had he not given up racing. I wondered who let all the 300Zs park there. Some of the notable cars in that section included a Lamborghini Diablo, a De Tomaso Pantera, and a Porsche 550 Spyder. But if I had to take a car from that lot, I'd probably go with the Ferrari 575M, most comfortable ride out there, but it'll still turn heads.

We stepped into the vending area, to take a look at what they had to offer. I immediately made a beeline for a specific tent, leaving the old guys in the dust, when they caught up, they saw why. Celebrating the 60th Anniversary of Porsche, they had a tent set up. The first car in the display was a rare 917. Not a replica, this was the actual #20 gulf car. While not as important historically as the "Pink Pig" or 'Psychedelic Porsche" that took 1st and 2nd at the 1970 Le Mans, respectively. Or the 917/30 Sunoco that killed the Can-Am series and remains among the most powerful normal fuel race cars in existence. This one was famous in it's own right, being the car that was supposedly driven by Steve McQueen in the film Le Mans.

Alongside the 917 were a couple of early 911s, a 356A, a 550 Spyder, and the newest Porsche Supercar, the Carrera GT. Between the six cars in that tent, there was probably close to five million dollars worth of machinery. But that wasn't all. "Isn't that Al Unser?!", #1 exclaims. Wow. The man with the most Indy 500 wins in history is here. I'm scared. We meekly moved up to him, and presented our programs to be signed, he happily complied. He seems like a nice guy, honest too. "If I had one of these," He told my Dad, gesturing to the Carrera GT he was sitting next to, "I'd be in jail all the time."

We wandered around the paddocks and looked at some of the cars that would participate in the races. We saw some amazing cars, a Ferrari 512, a Porsche 908 and a 910, a bunch of 911s, a 935/78, a few Alfas, and a Ford Escort. Another interesting car that caught our attention was an old fashioned Bentley Speed Six. This car was one step away from being a stage coach. As we examined it, #1 jokingly suggested that it might be coal powered, I raised him one by suggesting that the massive cowling was there to provide room for the midget who shovels the coal in.

Right before lunch, the PA announced a special Porsche only race in honor of Porsche's 60th anniversary. My Dad and I scanned the list of cars in the racing program, and started to talk about which car we thought would win. We both agreed that the 935/78 would most likely take it away, but the 910 might make a fight of it. Then we were treated to a gift that made the whole day worthwhile. As the cars rumbled around in their seeded positions on their pace lap, they came around the corner and came into view. The 935/78 was in first, as expected, the 910 was in 3rd. In between the two rode the 917K that had been sitting in the display tent. That wasn't on the program. Just majestic. And as the race went on, the cars spaced out, and you could really get a feel for the different sounds of the different cars, pure auditory overload. It was great. The 935/78 did win, but I loved watching that 917.

I ate a light lunch of BBQ pork and rice, and drank a lemonade. We moved from the outfield to the infield to watch the races get going. We started out watching the first few uneventful races from just downrange from the downward hill, with a good view of the switchback turn.

We moved to get a great view of the backstretch to watch the Historic Small Bores, and Large Bores. The small bore race was interesting. For the first three laps it was dominated by a Lotus Seven, followed by several Porsche 356s. The Lotus Seven inexplicably had an inside out umbrella stuck to the back of the chassis, it probably should have been black flagged, but it was leading. It lost the umbrella on the 4th lap. It also lost the lead. Porsche 356s took 1st through 3rd, and the Seven came in 4th.

The Historic Large bores was really a two car race. Two late 60's Corvettes, one the A model, one the B model. The Blue and White B Model built up a dominating lead. The American Flag adorned A model kept within a reasonable distance. When they hit the back of the pack and began to lap cars, the A model used the traffic well to close the gap, and nearly make a pass on the last lap right in front of us. The B model clearly had the better driver, and fended off the takeover attempt for the win.

We moved up the the Grandstand to watch the Medium bores. The light rain that had persisted for the last hour let up, and the track began to dry. Up front there was a BMW M3, a White Porsche 911, a blue 911, and a red 1969 Ford Escort. Behind them was a bunch of tiny 2 door BMWs and Alfa Romeros that I can only describe as a swarm, and one very loud, very green 911. What made this race interesting was the changing conditions of the track. The White 911 had opted to go with racing slicks, assuming the track would dry quickly. The Escort and the M3 had opted for Rain Tires, assuming the rain would return. The rain didn't return, but the track dried slowly. The M3 built up a sizable lead, and the Escort forced its way up from 4th to 2nd. The 911 fell back all the way to 5th. However, the track dried. After lap three, the track had dried enough that the 911 could get its wheels on the ground, and put its power to use. As it gained ground, the underpowered Escort fell back in the standings, finishing 4th. On the last lap, the 911 had finally clawed it's way back into second place, and as soon as it hit the final straight away, the driver floored it. Eating up the course, and rapidly closing the gap on the M3. In a photo finish, the M3 staved off the 911's last charge. Great race.

As we moved back to the back stretch to watch the group 7 race, the rain started up again. Group 7 was the showstoppers group. F1, F2, FV, F5000, and some Can-Ams. Unfortunately, a lot of the cars scratched due to the rain. Including the 935/78, the Ferrari 512, and the McRae GM1. The 935 and the GM1 were the real losses, as they were expected to challenge for first. Instead, a Tyrell F1 car laid waste to the field, lapping all but two of the competitors. The real race was for 2nd place, where a Porsche 910 duked it out with two F5000 cars, who should have wiped the floor with it. But due to the weather conditions, the nimble 910 held on for 2nd place.

Once that race concluded, the skies really opened up, leaving rivers of water flowing across the asphalt, and thoroughly soaking us as we made our way back to the car.

I slept the whole way back, with a smile on my face.

Drink of the Moment: Red, White, and Blue

Happy 4th of July people! Today we Americans celebrate our independence from the British. The British can celebrate too, as this is the anniversary of their not being responsible for us anymore.

What better way to celebrate than with a drink. So I present to you, the Red, White, and Blue Martini!

Take 1.5 ounces of Vodka, 1/2 an ounce of Blue Curacao, and 1/2 an ounce of cranberry juice. Stir with ice, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry dropped into the bottom of the glass.

The drink is going to be sweet, and highly alcoholic. Take a sip, and picture yourself enjoying the fireworks on a nice summer's night. Better yet, take a sip, and actually enjoy the fireworks on this nice summer's night.

Drink of the Moment: White Russian

Here's a drink that I often enjoy.

The White Russian originated, like myself, in Oakland, California. The name refers to the "White Movement" an anti-Bolshevik group that operated in Russia during World War I, and the interbellum years. Beyond the name, and the use of vodka, the drink actually has very little to do with Russia, but it's nice to think otherwise.

When made properly, the White Russian is a smooth drink, with a hint of coffee flavor. A sort of alcoholic's mocha. Starbucks should sell these, then maybe I'd actually consider going into one of those pits of despair.

To make the White Russian, you need Vodka, a Coffee Liqueur, such as Kahlua, and a dairy product, either milk, cream, or half and half. Take a old fashioned glass and drop some ice into it. This drink is always served on the rocks, the ice diffuses and chills the creamer. Served straight up, this drink is barely palatable. Next add 1.5 ounces of vodka and 2/3 ounce of Kahlua, and stir. Float 1 ounce of creamer over the top, and slowly stir the creamer into the drink. Take a sip, and picture yourself braving the cold Moscow winter. Be glad you're inside enjoying the drink.

Here are a few variations on the drink. First, if you stop at the Vodka and Kahlua stage, you have what is called a Black Russian. If you substitute the creamer for Coke, you get what is called a Smith and Wesson. Replace the vodka with SoCo, and you've got a Rebel Russian. Finally, switch the vodka for scotch, and you get a drink aptly named, Aggravation.

Intro to Liquor: Bourbon

In a previous post, I ran into a bartender that didn't know how to differentiate Bourbon from other Whiskeys. This is a terrible situation. However, it is one that is easily remedied. Here's the down low on Bourbon Whiskey.

Bourbon Whiskey has been classified as a "Distinctive Product of the United States". As such, there are requirements placed on the production of Bourbon, by Congressional Mandate.

These requirements are:

• It must be made from a grain mixture of at least 51% corn.
• It must be no stronger than 160 proof (80% ABV).
• Nothing other than water may be added to the mixture.
• It must be aged in new, charred American Oak barrels.
• Bourbon aged for less than 4 years in must have the duration of aging displayed on the label.
• Whiskey that meets the above requirements, and has been aged for at least 2 years, may be labeled Straight Bourbon.

Most Bourbon qualifies as Straight Bourbon even though they might choose not to display it on the label. Most Bourbon brands usually up their mix to closer to 70% corn, to make a flavor more distinct from other types of whiskey.

First distilled in the Allegheny Mountains in 1785, in a large county named for a prominent French family called the Bourbons, all whiskey originating from this region had the name of the county stenciled on the casks. The majority of the liquors were corn based whiskeys.

All modern Bourbon is made through the Sour Mash process, originating from the Woodford Reserve Distillery. Sour Mash uses some of the fermented mash from the last run to create a proper Ph balance, and limit growth of bacteria.

The majority of Bourbon is now made in Kentucky, with a few brands operating in other states. Some of the more famous brands include Woodford Reserve, Jim Beam, Wild Turkey, Four Roses, and Makers Mark.

Bourbon is either served Neat or on the Rocks. Usually in an old fashioned glass. When used as part of a mixed drink, it can create drinks such as the Mint Julep, the Down Low, the Scrap Wrench, or the Three Wisemen.

Drink of the Moment: Mint Julep

In an earlier post, a reader expressed his love of bourbon, and I promised to deliver unto him a cocktail which uses bourbon as its base. So here it is, the mint julep, the preferred drink of the proper southern gentleman.

There are many ways to prepare a mint julep. I'll teach you two, the one you can ask for in a bar, and the traditional method you can make when you're feeling decadent.

The more standard method of constructing a mint julep requires bourbon, mint leaves, crushed ice, sugar, and soda water.

First, take 4 to 6 mint leaves and 1 or 2 tablespoons of granulated white sugar. Drop them in the bottom of either a Collins or highball glass, and muddle them. Then fill the glass with crushed ice, and add 3 ounces of bourbon. Stir the mix, then fill with soda water. Add a mint sprig, stir it some more, and the drink is ready to serve. Sip the drink, and picture yourself watching the horses at Churchill Downs.

The more traditional method uses the same ingredients, minus the soda water. You need to get a mint julep glass, basically a silver goblet. Muddle 4-6 leaves of mint and 2 tablespoons of sugar, and muddle it in the bottom of the glass. Fill the glass with crushed ice, and add 3 ounces of bourbon and stir. Garnish with 4 sprigs of mint, and add a short straw. The idea behind the short straw and extra mint is to force the drinker to shove his nose into the mint, and inhale the scent of the mint combining with the scent of the bourbon. Enjoy the drink, and picture yourself on the porch of a Virginia plantation home on a hot summer's afternoon.

The mint julep has been embraced as the official drink of the Kentucky Derby. The Kentucky Derby also sells the most expensive mint julep in the world. Served in a 24k gold plated mint julep glass, it used Woolford Reserve bourbon, mint imported from Ireland, ice from the Bavarian Alps, and sugar from Australia. Costing a cool $1,000 dollars, the proceeds go to taking care of retired thoroughbred racing horses.

There are seemingly many variations of the Mint Julep, but in reality, they're all members of the same drink family, known as Smashes. A mint julep is a fancy name for a bourbon smash, a mojito is a rum smash, and a Kremlin colonel is a vodka smash. I guess if you used absinthe, it'd be a "Hulk Smash!", Patent Pending. All that changes is the alcohol.

A similar family of drinks are the Stingers. The variation there is that the mint and sugar is replaced with an ounce of creme de menthe. A stinger is usually served in a cocktail glass, neat, rather than in an ice filled Collins glass. It's creamier, and a little less sweet.

Intro to Liquor: Cachaça

I've mentioned several Brasilian drinks on this blog before. They all have in common the fact that they are made using cachaça, the premier liquor of Brasil.

Cachaça is the product of the distillation of fermented sugarcane juice, between 76 and 96 proof, with up to six grams per liter of sugar added. The distillation from a sugarcane base puts it very close to rum. The primary difference being that rum is distilled either from fresh sugarcane juice or molasses. Cachaça is traditionally distilled in a copper pot still, this produces three runs.

The smaller cachaça distilleries, the equivalent of American microbrew beer, use only the middle run, as the first and third contain contaminants that change the flavor. The distiller then ages the cachaça. There is no standard for the wood used, so different distilleries use different woods, allowing for a wide range of flavors in the cachaça market. Larger, industrial distilleries use a column still, which produces a continuous run, which alters the taste due to the contaminants. These industrial distilleries also usually don't age their drink, and simply market it straight at the lower class consumer. Brasilians drink 396 million gallons of cachaça each year.

Cachaça has a long history in Brasil, dating back to the 16th century. It was originally derived from sugar mills, where the sugarcane juice was left after the sugarmaking process. It would ferment, and become a low quality alcohol called cagaça. This fluid was given to the slaves to drink. Eventually, someone got the bright idea to distill the cagaça, and yielded modern cachaça.

There are two types of cachaça, white and gold. Gold cachaça is usually aged, and used as a single drink, while white cachaça is used more for mixed drinks. Cachaça tastes similar to rum, but with more depth of flavor. However, it also has a rather unique odor, that some do not care for.

If the odor, caused by the rapid evaporation of the liquor, bothers you, a quick fix is to drink it from a tall thin glass, which limits the evaporation. This is called martelinho, or the "little hammer".

My prefered brand of Cachaça that can be obtained readily in the US, is Leblon Cachaça . Named after the upscale part of Rio, Leblon uses XO Cognac flasks to age their cachaça, producing a smoother flavor than most brands. It also comes with a massive recipe book, that'll keep you occupied for a while.

Cachaça is becoming a popular drink here in the states. Jump on the leading edge of style, and enjoy the Brasilian drink of choice.

Moving On...

My God it's been a long weekend.


Things started on Thursday. Having finished my finals the previous day, that most glorious day that I've had circled on my calendar arrived. The release of Metal Gear Solid 4! Hot damn. This was the first game I actually pre ordered, ever. Nothing short of the Second Coming of Christ would keep me from getting this game. I actually woke up at 7 AM on a day where I was not required to, in order to get this game.


Except perhaps... The sun. After my earlier post, it seems the sun had seen it's shadow, and doomed us poor souls to an eternity of bleak Oregon weather. That is, until the day Metal Gear Solid 4 came out. As a person of Brasilian descent, who has spent a good chunk of his life living in the tropics, I am addicted to sunlight. I can tan beautifully, and it takes months for said tan to wear off. I literally cried when, after over a year in the Pacific Northwest, I was as white as a ghost. I went through withdrawal.

So now you can see my conundrum. Sunlight? Or the awesome power of Metal Gear? These are the decisions that try men's very souls. Fortunately, in a move that had me almost certainly looking like a complete moron, I could have my cake, and eat it too. The most wonderful thing about the seventh generation of consoles is the advent of practical wireless controllers. I turned the TV around, and sat outside my apartment, in the sun, playing the game through the window for several hours. The game is amazing, expect me to drown you with it as soon as I find the time.

As the day went on, I was invited to my friend Alexa's going away party. She was moving on to bigger and better things, like flight school. Lucky bitch. Because of some unrelated purchases, I was in the neighborhood, and stopped by a 9 PM sharp. Apparently I was the only one who showed up on time. Even Kristen, who lives in the house, wasn't ready by the appointed time. How very German of me. I brought along a bottle of Level Vodka. We had some shots, and tried my best to avoid accidentally crushing Kristen's hideous free range cat, Momo. Alexa baked some bread, and made a nice dip out of balsamic vinegar and olive oil. It was damn good. She also laid out the remainder of her alcohol, and begged the party goers to consume it for her. She had a shaker, and I went to town on it. I constructed this monster.

2 parts parrot bay coconut rum.

2 parts Grenadine

2 parts bacardi 151 rum.

1 part cran-blueberry juice

Add liquor and shake hard, strain into a frosted pint glass, add juice, fill with club soda, and stir.

That beast was essentially six shots of 90 proof liquor, and it tasted like absolutely nothing. Slight hint of grenadine, but other than that, it was like drinking down thick water. I was terrified, because every sip I took, I wanted to just chug it down because my tongue tells me it's not strong enough. However, my brain, which watched me construct it, knows how strong it is. And after I develop a pretty heavy buzz off of 2/3s of the glass, I know how strong it is.

I met up with Ed, Amy, and Andy, and we talked about Andy's motorcycles, our mutual alcoholism, and the fact that Ed looks uncannily like a 10" shorter me. The conversation continued in interesting directions, until I got looped into a few beer pong games. I would like to think I acquitted myself quite well in those games, despite a terrible foul. I even dragged out a victory with Kristen as my partner, a feat thought impossible. During one rather entertaining game, Jordan had to skip out to puke mid game, and got replaced. An act I later used to sub myself into a game to help Lacey's terrible team.

After my idiot foul got us bumped of the table, I saw CJ had shown up, with Michelle and Bryan in tow. Apparently Michelle no longer wishes for my agonizing death via cancer. Yay! I'm moving up in the world. We shared shots of Level Vodka, which was quite smooth, and I began to set the stage for CJ to come help me move my junk from my apartment to storage. Seeing as he's the only person in our mutual circle who owns a truck, he was doomed to spend the entire weekend moving stuff for literally everyone he's ever met.

At about 1 AM, my friend Tony crashed the party, not knowing I was there, sporting an awkwardly faked Australian accent, and a little blond girl on his arm. Well, I'm not about to try and cock block my friend based on something as little as faking being Australian. So I let them drink in bliss. All of a sudden, Tony grabs me, and mentioned to the girl that I used to live in the south. She asks me where, and I told her New Orleans, Alabama, and Georgia. She saw fit to correct me, "You lived in N'awlins, 'Bama, and that other state."

Dammit woman, not everyone who's lived in the south speaks with the accent of a fucking idiot. She mentioned she lived in Shreveport. Whatever. Then she saw my dog tags. "Oh, you're in the Marines? You know Camp Pendleton? That's me."

At that point I was getting angry. "Don't confuse me with a Jarhead, girl."

She proceeded to go on a rant about how the Marines are her family. I asked her bluntly, "Are you in?"

To which she replied an unqualified no. "Then don't lecture me on service."

She got all indignant about how she couldn't believe I was showing so much disrespect to her family. "What your great grandfather did has no bearing on how I treat you. There is no royalty in America, you earn your respect. You aren't given it."

At that point, she was a awfully flustered, and asked my if I lived here. When I said no, she told me that she thought I should leave. She was trying to kick me out of my friends party, that she crashed? Incredible. I refused, and she grabbed Tony, and dragged him out of the party. Good Riddance.

Immediately afterwords, a guy who was standing nearby, Mark, looked at me. I realised that I was pretty drunk, and I might have been a real jerk. So I asked for a third party perspective from Mark and his wife, Lacey. She was a bitch, and they were surprised I didn't drunk toss her ass out at the word go. Vindication. To be honest, judging from her accent, and lack of any knowledge of military principle, I'd say she's probably some puffed up bitch who was trying to back me down without any actual truth to her stories. Either that, or General Pendleton is rolling in his grave right now. She certainly sounded more like she was from Salem than Shreveport.

The party wound down after that, and the rest of the night was saying goodbyes, and making sure the really drunk people got home safely. Aaron gave me a ride home, and I passed out on my couch.

Friday became game day. I spent pretty much the whole day devouring MGS 4's amazing story.

On Saturday, I prepped my apartment for the move back to Washington.

On Sunday, CJ rolled by, an I traded him two bottles of Irish Cream, a Bottle of Sake, and a bottle of Merlot for his help moving my stuff. As we hauled my futon to the storage facility, we discussed stuff such as Dave Mustain's amazing hair, bands that are essentially a cult of personality around one person, and woodland firefighting.

Monday morning, I rode back up to Washington, and am now frantically attempting to avoid letting the Guard ruin yet another summer. Wish me luck.

Happy Memorial Day Weekend!

Four day weekends are always a good thing. But, sometimes they get a little long. I don't have classes on Friday, so life is good.

Thursday kicked off with inviting some friends up to Strega, the new bar that opened up on the sixth floor of the new condo complex down at the end of second street. It's a great place, good ambiance, good drinks, and comfortable seating. They actually stock Cachaça, and they can make a decent caipirinha. I was shocked. I had a caipirinha while waiting for CJ to arrive.

I wound up waiting for about a half hour, because CJ somehow got lost. Not sure how he puled that one off, it's on top of the only building taller that three stories other than Reser and Gill. It's kind of like not being able to pick me out of a crowd of midgets. However he made it eventually, and brought his girlfriend, and our mutual friend Brian.

We got another round of drinks, and I had a Gin and Tonic, while CJ ordered something with Strega's special liqueur, which tastes like a liquefied alcoholic breadstick. We talked for a couple of hours about work, the future, spectacular bike accidents, spectacular rafting accidents, injuries, and other things. Maybe I'll write about some of those later on.

Another round of drinks came in, and I had a Vodka Martini. It was the Vodka Martini from Hell! First off, Strega has huge cocktail glasses, double size. Second, it's alcohol and more alcohol, pretty much just four straight shots of Vodka and Vermouth. To top it off, the bartender didn't add enough ice to the mix, so it wasn't cold enough. It was just brutal. I struggled to put it down, and gnawed on the olive like it was going to save my life. It was rough, and things went downhill from there.

Someone got the bright idea to swing the conversation to politics right before we left. We proceeded to spend the next hour and a half standing in front of the entrance arguing. I hate arguing politics with my friends, because we're inevitably drunk at the time, any argument involving drunk college students inevitably breaks down to someone just yelling slogans. This particular argument ended with CJ's girlfriend telling me to get cancer and die. And she's normally such a cheerful little girl. That kinda killed the mood, so we went our separate ways.

Friday I woke up with a brutal hangover, which I usually don't suffer from. I chalked that up to the Hellfire Martini. I studied a little, read a little, and drank a ton of water.

After cleaning up, I met some friends over at the Fox and Firkin for some pre salsa dinner. Rob was flirting with the hot, pierced waitress., Nikki. I talked Milspeak with Tristan, the former Marine, while Chris taunted me about having Tara consume her sandwich faster that I devoured mine. Hey Chris, after doing the one minute challenge at Ft. Benning, I take my time with food when I can. Deal with it. I had a Cordon Bleu sandwich that tasted great, and a pint of Black Butte Porter. Erin taunted me about the fact that I look somewhere in the vicinity of ten years old in my facebook picture, and Nancy said she didn't believe I was old enough to drink. Jeez, when it rains it pours. Nancy ordered this inhuman brownie, that was covered in whipped cream and walnuts, and two scoops of Neapolitan ice cream. She distributed spoons, and the 12 of us there devoured it.

At Latin X, things kicked off as usual. I grabbed a Vodka and Tonic from the bar, and settled down. I saw a tall nice looking girl, and asked her to dance. "I don't know how to dance, I'm warning you!" Normally any girl who finds herself at Latin X without learning salsa says that, but they know enough about rhythm and dance in general for me to work with them. With this girl, I should have listened to her. I would describe it as dancing with a cannonball. When I led her in a direction, she flung herself that way. No control at all. I locked her up in a closed dance for the safety of everyone around us.

The next embarrassing incident happened during a meringue song. I looked up at the tables, and called a girl to come down and dance with me. She came down, and right before she got to me, her friend, whom my friend Sam had asked to dance, shot him down, and dragged me onto the dance floor. Awkward, awkward, awkward... Sam proceeded to ask the girl I had asked to dance, so they danced, and we danced, and things kind of evened out, but it just felt awkward. I made it up to the girl I originally asked on the next floor, but I just felt a little out of control the rest of the night.

I wound up going home earlier than usual, at 1. I just wasn't into it as much as usual. I hit the rack, and slept the sleep of the exhausted.

I spent most of Saturday just feeling drained. I don't know why, but I didn't like it. I laid around the house, watched TV, made a blog post, but generally did nothing important.

On Sunday, Joe called me up, and we went over to McMenamin's for some drinks. The pool tables were locked down, so we went to Tailgaters. There weren't very many people there, and it was karaoke night, but the pool tables were free, so we played three games. I took the first two, but I couldn't sink the 8 ball in the third.

As we were playing our second game, some guy came on, and just murdered "Dirty Laundry", by Don Henley. It was awful. Not in the so bad it's good type, but the so bad it's terrible type. Somewhere in Texas, Henley is rolling in his grave, and very confused, seeing as he's not dead yet.

I got a couple of hours to kill before I go to a party to watch the hockey game. The Flyers are gone, so I don't really care about who wins, but I promised Joe I'd make an appearance, we'll see what happens.

Drink of the Moment: Gin and Tonic

Ah, the Gin and Tonic. The magical drink that glows, cures malaria, and makes women beautiful.

The Gin and Tonic was originally made in India by the British East India Trading Company in the 18th century, to treat their soldiers. That's right, this drink was originally a medicine. This is probably one of the earlier instances of abusing meds.

The tonic is what was medicinal. It contains quinine, which prevents malaria. The tonic water used at the time had much higher concentrations, and as such, was unspeakably bitter. So people would conceal the taste by mixing it with gin.

In the preparation of the Gin and Tonic, you need two things. For the really slow readers, those two things are Gin and Tonic Water.

Take a highball glass, and fill it with ice. Then add 2 ounces of gin, fill the rest with tonic water, and stir briskly. a wedge of lime is the traditional garnish, but you can throw just about anything in there. Sit back, sip your drink, and hum God Save the Queen.

With a highball glass, you'll get a 1 to 2 concentration of gin to tonic water. One of the beautiful things about this drink is the ease with which the proportions can be adjusted. I've had Gin and Tonics that ranged from a glass if gin with a hint of tonic water, to a splash of gin to cut the tonic. If you like a more concentrated drink, but don't want a highball sized concentrated drink, you can also adjust the glass you're drinking from. An Old Fashioned Glass works nicely for that.

Another curious feature of tonic water is that it glows under a black light. If you're the type of person who likes your drink at a certain concentration, this is actually a pretty good way to check the concentration. The brighter it glows, the less gin is in it. If your friends are jokers, and they buy you a glass of gin, and try to disguise it as a gin and tonic, you have a way to keep yourself from being caught off guard.

A common variant of the Gin and Tonic is the Vodka and Tonic. I often order this at nightclubs, because low end vodka is much more palatable than low end gin.

Drink of the Moment: Leite de Onça

Today I bring you another drink from Brasil. This one is Leite de Onça, also known as Jaguar's Milk.

Keep in mind that this is not a drink you'll likely be able to order at a bar. It's a traditional drink for the Feast Day of Saint John. It's carries a kind of rustic flavor to it that always brings a smile to my face.

To make Leite de Onça, you need milk, condensed milk, cachaça, and chocolate liqueur.

Begin by taking a container to mix the ingredients. You can make this drink in rather massive quantities if you want, so I'll list it by ratios. Begin by mixing 1 part milk, and 1/2 part condensed milk. Mix them until they've blended together. Then add one part cachaça, and chill it. The drink is served cold. Right before your ready to serve the drink, add 1 part chocolate Liqueur. Then pour it into a mug. If you choose to add a garnish, sprinkle either Cinnamon or chocolate powder. Once the drinks have been served, go out and enjoy the summer night.

As usual, if you don't have cachaça, or don't like the taste, you can replace it with rum. The most popular variant replaces the cachaça with Vodka. This version is popularly called Tiger's Milk. Rawr.

Into to Liquor: Celtic Crossing

Celtic Crossing is an interesting liqueur, made by Castle Brands, a distillery specialising in high quality spirits. Known for making Boru Vodka, Celtic Crossing is another excellent piece of their portfolio.

Celtic Crossing is a combination of Irish Whiskey, Cognac, and honey. It's every bit as smooth as the ingredients suggest. Despite being 30% alcohol by volume, the alcohol is barely noticeable. This makes it an excellent secondary spirit mixer for high alcohol content drinks. It also makes the drink enjoyable on its own, served neat, or on the rocks.

Speaking of on the rocks, distilleries that decide to add a cocktail booklet to the bottles of their spirits need to hire some bartenders to come up with a decently interesting drink. Not every company does this, my bottle of LeBlon Cachaca came with a dizzying array of drinks that you could make with it, but a lot seem to just mail it in on these things. The worst I've seen lately was on a bottle of Jose Cuervo Black Medallion Tequila. The booklet came with two recipes, Cuervo Black and Cola, and Cuervo Black on the rocks. On the rocks is not an independent cocktail! It's a method of serving the drink. Adding ice does not make you a bartender.

Castle Brands does this right. There's a decent booklet attached to the bottle, but the real tool is their recipes list on their website. There you can peruse their extensive list of cocktails, and search based on spirit used, glass served in, color, or even by holiday it celebrates. Good job.

Drink of the Moment: Caipirinha

As some of you know, I enjoy drinking, and as such, I have a wealth of knowledge on the subject of alcohol. So today, I present to you, the Caipirinha, the national drink of Brasil.

To make a Caipirinha, you'll need the following: Half a lime, sugar, crushed ice, and Cachaca.

Start by cutting the half of a lime into quarters, or eighths of a whole lime. Drop the half lime into the bottom of the glass, then add the sugar. The IBA standard is two teaspoons, but depending on the drinker's sweet tooth, you might go as high as 3-4 tablespoons. Muddle the lime and sugar together. Then add 2-3 ounces of Cachaca, and mix. Usually you stir it, but if you have the resources, it works very well as a shaken drink. Pour the mix, lime rinds and all into an old fashoined glass, and fill with crushed ice. Stir the drink a bit more to ensure the wedges sink to the bottom of the glass. Garnish is optional. Enjoy the drink, and picture yourself on Ipenema.


There are several variations on the drink. If you vary the fruit, you go to the group of drinks known as Batidas. For citrus fruits, you can keep the wedges, because the oil from the skin adds to the flavor. For fibrous fruits like apples and pears, it's easier just to throw an ounce of juice into the mix, rather than attempt to find some way to muddle it without creating a mess. I've found that a mix of Passionfruit juice and Coconut Milk is wonderful.


Some people prefer to add an ounce of half and half or condensed milk. That thickens the drink, and neutralizes some of the acidity. This variation is one that you either love, or hate. There is no middle ground.


You can also vary the alcohol. A common variant is to replace the Cachaca with vodka. People refer to this as a "Caipiroska". My personal favorite, if I'm not in a Cachaca mood, I'll replace it with a spiced rum, like Captain Morgan's.


For those of you who aren't experienced in making your own drinks, here's a helpful video.