This week I bring you a tale of two cans born of the same brewery and vying for some attention.  Which can was better, you ask?  That depends on your taste buds, Avid Reader, and what you choose to wet your whistle with on a warm spring evening.  I am no stranger to the flagship brew from America’s oldest brewery and I was interested to get acquainted with its younger, slimmer brother.  To stop them from fighting I put them both in the fridge for a time out and then found my Yuengling pint glass waiting for me.

After plenty of time to chill out, I decided to take out the flagship lager to refresh my memory a bit and start things off right.  True to its nature, it was an amber lager with a crisp flavor, no bitter anything, and a kind of weak body.  All that aside, it was still refreshing and I downed it in record time.

Now it was time for the new kid on the block to make an appearance, so I poured and peered to find that it was a golden color and, much to my surprise, far less intruding than the original.  It requires a certain talent to be able to remove more from a weak lager and make it even lighter than it is; then again have you seen all those 64-calorie beers?  You may as well drink water.

To say the least, the Premium would appeal to those folks looking for a light beer that had some more calories to it than an MGD-something-or-other.  It had a light body, not a lot of flavor, and I finished it before I realized I opened the can.  The scary part is they make a Light Premium, which I can’t imagine is that much of a step up from Dasani.

This is not to discredit Yuengling by any means, they make a quality product that I can’t find north of New York, and I was lucky a friend brought some cans back for me.  If I did ever see this someplace, I would buy it for the novelty of having some nearby, but I would not drive too far out of my way.  Should you happen to see this on a trip, try one so you can taste what 180 years of brewing history is like — then find something a little younger to finish your evening.

Before cracking open the bottle, the Moulin Boyer is a bit of a mystery. I couldn’t track down information on the blend, vineyard, or wine producer, as none of them has an online presence, so I’m going into this one blind. Which isn’t too much of a concern: even if it’s not a great wine, it’s still wine. But hope springs eternal — let’s see how it goes.

How’s it look? The Moulin Boyer is a very dark, very opaque indigo color, with lots of thick legs, suggesting this wine will be fairly sweet and full-bodied, with a very thick mouth-feel. (The Gremet was just as dark, but much less viscous, with almost no legs.)

How’s it smell? Alcohol, tannins, and some light perfumey floral notes are just about all I notice, with some slight plum notes on the end. (The Grenet didn’t have much of a fruit odor, either, but the alcohol notes weren’t as prominent.)

But how does it taste? The first, most overwhelming flavors are sour cherry and green apple flavors, mixed with some peppery notes and a bitter, alkaline finish. The sour fruit flavors do carry some sweetness as well. The mouth feel is very heavy; the Moulin Boyer coats the mouth and lingers on the palate. (The Grenet, on the other hand, had subtle fruit flavors with almost no sweetness, and some chocolate/leathery flavors on the finish.)

What should I eat it with? This Bordeaux would stand up to the most flavorful dinner you could concoct — something replete with ripe tomatoes, roasted peppers, salty cheeses, the works. A saucy Italian dish, or a ratatouille, would be perfect. It’s a bit heavy to serve with an appetizer/cheese course, and it’s not quite astringent enough to stand up to a roast or a steak.

How did this Bordeaux compare with the last? The Grenet was listed as a merlot-heavy blend: 80 %, with 20 % cabernet franc to add some balance and complexity. I’d guess the Moulin Boyer had much less merlot in it; the bitter notes of a carmenere and the peppery complexity of a cabernet. They’re both good wines, but they’re very different.

So what did we learn? You’ll always get good value if you buy wine from a good year, regardless of the vintner, but when pairing bordeaux with a meal, stick to a bottle that lists its mother grapes, so you can estimate what the flavors would be. (You could also research the wine in the store aisle on your smart phone, or — strange concept, I know — ask the wine clerk for help.)

I still clearly remember the first time I tried a dragon berry. I saw them in a grocery store and I was awed by the strange way they looked. They are about the size of a mango, colored rosy to bright red with hues of pink spread throughout. The fruits have little green petals growing upwards, toward the top of the fruit, in what looks like an entirely unnatural direction. It looked like something straight out of the original series of Star Trek. I thought “I have to try this.” That is the same feeling I got when I first heard of dragon berry rum.

This rum is a blend of strawberry varieties with dragon berry, also known as pitaya, which grows as the fruit of a cactus native to central and South America (as well as being cultivated quite widely in southeast Asia). The cactus only blooms for one night before wilting in the morning light. Each plant does this just four to six times a year. Its flavor is a little like a cross between a mango and a kiwi, but not quite as sweet.

The rum has a very strong fruity aroma and taste. There is no doubt that one is drinking a fruit-infused rum. This may actually be its biggest flaw in my book – the aroma and flavor are perhaps a bit too strong. I would have enjoyed it even more with a little less of the strawberry and dragon berry goodness. Or, since pitaya have a mellower flavor than strawberries, perhaps going to a blend heavier in dragon berry might offer a mellower flavor.

This rum is going to be wonderful for summer drinks – mixing well with nearly any fruit juice, Sprite, lemonade, triple sec, or any combination of many summer beverages. Try a shooter of dragon berry rum, pomegranate juice, lime juice, and triple sec. Or, how about a martini of this spirit with limoncello, amaretto, simple syrup and lemon juice? Another idea is to serve it as a cocktail with mango syrup, pineapple juice, orange juice, and lemon-lime soda. One unique use for this rum might even be to try it in your favorite fruit smoothie (although, for use with alcohol, I prefer the ice cream to the yogurt variety of smoothies, especially in summer).

If you like fruity drinks, and you enjoy rum, do yourself a favor and try dragon berry rum at home or at your favorite bar.

Always drink responsibly and cheers!

But I digress. The daiquiri, lamentably, has an undeserved reputation as a frou-frou drink, but it didn’t start out that way. Rather, it was one of the many elementary cocktails that developed by taking a base liquor (in this case, rum) and adding something to tart it up (lime juice) and something to sweeten it (sugar, originally, though a half-measure of triple sec would do just as well.) The daiquiri was designed to tame (or, at least, subdue) rum, one of the most elemental spirits out there (and, before the advent of  vodka, the closest you could find to pure ethanol.) Rum has always been big in America, seeing as it’s made from sugar cane, and there are sugar-cane producing climates and economies not too far from here. Wikipedia, that great anthropological source, tells me that rum was always plentiful, but was considered a drink of sailors, ne’er do-wells, and the lower class until World War II. Then, wartime rationing made other spirits scarce, but the ready supply of rum from our “Good Neighbors” kept those stateside good and buzzed. Hemingway loved ‘em, though you can say that about almost any spirit, concoction, or other consumable, and it would be just about as true. (Don’t believe me? Look up the recipe for Death in the Afternoon sometime. He drank those, too.)

Daiquiri

• 2 oz. rum
• Juice of 1 lime
• 1 tsp. sugar, or 1 oz. Cointreau or triple sec

Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker over ice, and shake thoroughly. Strain into a cocktail glass, or into a rocks glass packed with ice (shaved, if you have it, though cracked will do in a pinch.) No garnish is needed, though if you insist, an extra wedge of lime perched on the rim of the glass wouldn’t hurt anybody.

P.S.: If you’re reading this recipe and thinking it sounds a lot like a caipirinha — it is. It’s exactly the same drink, but made with cachaça, a Brazilian liquor that is basically rum by a different name. Caipirinhas are usually made slightly differently, with the sugar, rum, and squeezed lime all combined in the same rocks glass with ice, but the end result is the same.

Heinnieweisse Weissebier – assuming this would be the lightest in body, I started here and worked my way on.  This brew is a traditional hefeweizen beer, closer in comparison to Weihenstephaner than a regular Americanized version.  Cloudy body, sharp taste, smooth finish, and boy was it refreshing.  I didn’t have a lemon handy, so I couldn’t test my rule to see if all summer beers are better with citrus, but there will be a next time I’m sure.

Porkslap Pale Ale – a little more of a red tint to this brew than the previous, and I was still pleased with the flavor.  At some instances it was dry, and then it also had an overriding bitter flavor that complimented the steak kebabs we had with dinner.  It wasn’t the strongest pale ale I’ve ever had, for which I am grateful, instead it was drinkable — with surprises.

Snapperhead IPA – this beer was a little bit weaker than I thought it would be.  To be honest, I was thinking it would be much stronger than the pale, but it might have been a step up or two from there.  This beer did have a sharp lemon flavor that rounded out any bitter taste you’d find in an IPA, and that was different.  Not your normal IPA and that was fine by me.

Moo Thunder Stout – this is not my first dance with the Moo Thunder, oh no, we have tangoed before, but it is good to refresh your memory.  Dark with a nice chocolate aroma, this was an easygoing dark beer for the spring time.

Although the price tag for this pack is kind of steep, you are paying for some good beer that might impress people.  The can designs are funny and with a name like Butternuts it must be good, right?  I suggest you find this at a local shop and give them a whirl.

Today’s bottle is a 2010 pinot noir from Luc Pirlet, a vineyard on France’s southern border. It grows in basic, clay-heavy soils, and the vintners prune away a lot of the developing fruit to concentrate all the sugar and flavor produced by the vines into the remaining grapes. This technique, known as “low-yield” winemaking, can result in some intensely flavorful wine. This bottle ran me $16 at the local wine shop; I’d expect the same vintage to be a bit more expensive in a couple of years, once it’s matured and mellowed a bit.

How does it look? The Luc Pirlet pinot noir looks to be a medium-bodied wine. It swirls easily in the glass, leaves almost no legs (suggesting there’s not a lot of sugar left after the fermentation), and the color is a quasi-translucent dark ruby red.

How does it smell? This pinot has a light nose , with some light grassy notes, a hint of ripe berries, and some tannic aromas that would probably be reduced if you cellared this for a couple more years (as you’re supposed to do.)

But how does it taste? Dry and complex. There are very prominent alkaline flavors balanced by warm, grassy flavors. The fruit flavors — raspberry, sour cherry, green apple — are almost overwhelmed by the wine’s other characteristics. This is quite drinkable now, but I expect those fruit flavors would be more prominent after a couple more years in the cellar (though the wine wouldn’t get any sweeter.)

What should I eat it with? Aside from meat and potatoes? The recommendation printed on the label was grilled meats and red fish (read: tuna.) I can’t really argue with that. This would be a nice wine to serve at a barbecue, though you should take care to serve it just a bit below room temperature (around 60 degrees Fahrenheit.) Don’t leave the bottle out on the picnic table; stick it in the air-conditioned house, or place it in the fridge (or cooler) for 15-20 minutes before serving.

After a long winter, rhubarb is now in season.  Is there a way to use this first sign of the growing season in a cocktail?

You ask a very worrisome question. I’m sure you’re aware that rhubarb leaves are poisonous, so before we start talking about anything else, we need to start with a disclaimer; trim leaves from your rhubarb stalks as soon as you harvest them, dispose of the leaves immediately, and wash the stalks, your hands, and your tools thoroughly.

Now that that’s taken care of…

Rhubarb stalks are going to act a lot like celery would act in a drink, which is to say that while it could be a fun garnish, it can’t add a lot of flavor just by its presence. You can’t muddle up rhubarb like you would a softer, juicier fruit; it won’t impart any of its flavor that way. Rhubarb needs to be cooked to extract its flavor.

I’d suggest a couple of approaches, both of which are a bit more involved:

• Make a rhubarb simple syrup. Slice your rhubarb into thumb-sized pieces, stack them in a stock pot, cover them with water, and boil covered for at least an hour. When finished, strain all liquid from the fruit, and press the fruit to extract whatever juices you can from the flesh. (Once you’ve done that, you can discard the pulp.) Measure the liquid you’ve poured off the rhubarb, return it to the stock pot, and place it on the stove top. Add an amount of sugar equivalent to the liquid, which you’ve just measured (so if you measured 1.5 cups of water off the rhubarb, add 1.5 cups of sugar.) Stir the sugar into the liquid under low heat, turning off the heat as soon as the sugar has dissolved completely. Once the syrup has cooled, you can add anything from 1/2 oz to 1 oz of the syrup to cocktails.
• Make a rhubarb jam, either by itself or with other fruit. This option will only appeal to you if you’ve already made jam or preserves before, and if you think you could use your rhubarb preserves for something other than cocktail making, so I won’t spend too much time rolling out a recipe here. Whatever recipe you do use, shake a tablespoon or so of the jam into a cocktail.

Here are a couple of sample recipes using both approaches.

Rhubarb Sidecar

• 2 oz. brandy
• Juice of 1/2 lemon
• 1 tbsp ( .5 oz) rhubarb syrup

Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker over ice; shake to combine. Strain into a cocktail glass; garnish with a cherry.

Rhubarb Collins

• 2 oz. gin
• 1 tbsp rhubarb jam
• Juice of 1/2 lime
• Soda water

Combine gin, jam, and lime juice in a cocktail shaker over ice; shake thoroughly to combine. Fill a highball glass with ice. Pour mixed cocktail into highball glass, and top with soda water.

When I asked one of Keene, New Hampshire’s, favorite bartenders, Steve, what was most popular with people in their mid-20′s today, he recommended a Jamaican 10-speed. There are other variations on this drink, each named after a type of bicycle – 12-speed, 18-speed, and 21-speed — but let’s concentrate on getting the basic one right first.

One of the things that is unique about this drink is that it is both a milky drink, and a fruity drink at the same time. So if you love both creamy drinks and fruity drinks, the ten speed is a great one to try.

Here’s how you make it:

1 1/2 ounces Malibu (coconut) rum
3/4 ounce Midori (melon liqueur)
3/4 ounce creme de banane (banana liqueur)
1 ounce milk or cream
3 ounces pineapple juice
1 whole cherry (Maraschino)

First, fill a shaker with ice. Add the rum and the two liqueurs. Then, pour in your pineapple juice and the milk or cream. Here’s something to keep in mind: The more milk or cream that you add, the less sweet it will be. So, if you prefer a creamier drink, go heavier on the dairy. For a sweeter, fruitier taste, hold back. You may also find that this recipe could play into seasonal variations as well – a fruitier blend may be better in the heat of summer and the creamier version might be better in colder weather.

Give the drink a good shake and then pour into a hurricane glass (the ones that look like the glass part of an oil lantern), or even a regular pint glass. Lastly, garnish with the cherry (or if you really want to live la vida loca, a slice of orange wrapped around a cherry, skewered by a toothpick – or dare I say it? A small plastic sword?) is also a nice variation.

There’s never any reason to feel intimidated to make or serve drinks if you do not have all of, or exactly the right, ingredients. Food and drink is meant to be enjoyed, and you should always experiment and find what you and your friends and family like best, and what you can do with the resources you have on hand.

So try out a 10-speed and post your thoughts about the drink below, and also post any variations that you enjoy on the recipe above.
Always drink responsibly and cheers!

The mint julep is just about the simplest recipe around that combines mint and liquor… there is, in fact, just one extra ingredient (sugar) added, but the effect is transformative. This drink is also a chance for you to show off your muddling skills (though the mint only needs to be pressed, not necessarilysmashed.) This recipe uses bourbon, which is the “official” way to make a julep, but if you wanted to use some other whiskey, dark/spiced rum, brandy, or even something exotic like tequila, I wouldn’t stop you. And you’ll notice the julep uses crushed ice; if you’re home, and you absolutely have to, you can use ice cubes, but this drink would be vastly improved if you could find some way to crush those cubes (wrap them in a bar towel, and then smash them with the bourbon bottle, perhaps.)

Anyway, let’s get down to it:

Mint Julep

• 2 oz. bourbon
• 8-10 mint leaves
• 1 tsp sugar (or 1 tsp. simple syrup)

Place mint leaves in a rocks glass, and pour sugar or simple syrup over top. (If using sugar, add 1 tsp. water to help dissolve the sugar.) With a muddle, press the sugar and water to the bottom of the glass to release the essential oils in the mint leaves. Fill the glass with crushed ice, and add the bourbon. Stir to combine, and serve.

Last week I spoke about a canned beer that was not your run of the mill canned beer, oh no, it had some class to it — and I’m going to further dispel the myth of canned beers by talking about another one.  That’s right, Avid Reader, this week we’re taking a sample of a beer I’d never seen before and figured I should indulge while I could.  Even though the weather is getting warmer it doesn’t mean I’ll stop drinking darker beers, I’ll just drink them less often, because you have to bend the rules sometimes.

This can was sitting in the fridge just chilling out when I thought to give it a sample.  There are times when tough news calls for a big pint of beer and 14.9 ounces would do just fine.  Weighing in at a mere 3.2%, I poured myself a shot of Maker’s Mark for some extra kick.  Cracking this can open, I was greeted with a familiar aroma; it was the smell of a brown ale and pouring it out proved my suspicions correct.

This was a brown ale and I noticed that there wasn’t much bitter bite — or any bite at all.  There was enough bitter to hit those odd spots on your tongue around the edges and toward the back while the rest was smooth.  This was a very smooth beer, and I was surprised considering I thought it would be almost a stout or something a little heavier in body.

I should have read into the word “mild” more and figured that this would not be a strong beer, but instead something you could enjoy on a warm evening.  If you happen to enjoy brown ales or nut browns, this would be within your reach.  Now I need to find the not mild version of this brew to get the full scope, and I suggest you find yourself a pack of these cans in a store near you.  If you happen to be looking for something dark with more character that isn’t very strong, you’d do well with this brew.

Here’s a quick history of liquor in America that should help to explain a lot about the drinks that were popular 10-20 years ago, and the drinks that are popular now:

• When the country was founded, brandy, rum, and whisky were the most popular spirits around, and could be produced either in America or (in the case of rum) close to our shores. Gin was also in favor, but a bit harder to procure.
• Flash forward to the mid-1850s, and advances in technology give bartenders regular access to ice, which gives rise to the cocktail. The aforementioned popular liquors, along with wines and some cordials, began to be mixed with non-perishable, complementary ingredients like sugar, bitters, and fruit syrups, along with some seasonal fresh fruit.
• By the 1950s, further advances in technology give bartenders year-round access to fruit juices and other perishable ingredients. At the same time, vodka is introduced into the country, and immediately becomes popular. Now, instead of worrying about ingredients complementing a liquor, we have a liquor that complements any other ingredient you mix with it. Traditional cocktails are forgotten.

Now, we’re at a point when customers at bars are developing a newfound appreciation for those old recipes, and the flavors they evoke. And with that, the Manhattan — which never went away, but certainly spent a couple of decades as the unused cousin of the martini — has become popular again.

Some notes on this cocktail: you can use rye, bourbon, or Canadian whiskey in your Manhattan, but not Scotch (that’d be a Rob Roy) or Irish (that’d get you something close to an Emerald.) You can use more sweet vermouth if you’d like; a 3-1 or even 2-1 ratio would not be unheard of, especially if you’re using overproof whiskey. If you use equal parts sweet and dry vermouth, you’ll have a perfect Manhattan.  Angostura bitters are standard, but you can experiment with other brands, or with bitter liqueurs like Campari, Aperol, or Fernet. A splash of cherry juice to sweeten your Manhattan wouldn’t be out of the question. And these can be served on the rocks or strained, with either a cherry or a lemon twist. Enjoy!

Manhattan

• 2.5 oz. whiskey
• .5 oz sweet vermouth
• 2-3 dashes bitters
• 1 tsp cherry juice (optional)

Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker over ice, and shake to combine. Strain either into a cocktail glass or a rocks glass with ice, and garnish with a cherry or a lemon twist.

Jay kay. El oh el.

If one is looking for a nice summertime drink, one needs look no further than a bottle of Ketel One Citroen and some tonic water. Having written about Ketel One’s neutral spirit in the past, I felt that it appropriate to share my thoughts on an oft-used, but under-appreciated flavor of the finely crafted vodka from the Netherlands.

Folks will typically use citrus vodka to throw a bit of an added bite into a lemon drop shot, but I feel like that’s a tired old habit that needs to simply go away. A more interesting way to spice up a spring evening is a bloody mary, utilizing the sour sting of Ketel One’s citrus offering, a little Worcestershire sauce, and some Old Bay seasoning as the special ingredients. Or if you’re looking for something a bit less salty, the aforementioned vodka-tonic or a vodka martini tends to do just fine.

Sure, you could go with Skyy, or Smirnoff, or Van Gogh, or (ick) Burnett’s, but the affordability and the drinkability of Ketel One keeps me coming back to it. I’m not sure exactly what these guys did, but they made a real winner. A crisp, clean taste that doesn’t leave you feeling like you licked a tattoo gun.

If you’re feeling even more sassy than usual, you can even just drop a couple ice cubes into your favorite tumbler and have at it. The smoothness and citrus bite is enough to make this one a sipping vodka, and enough to make me excited to try Ketel One’s other offerings.

If you’ve got any other clever uses for citrus vodka, feel free to share them in the comments. We’d love to read them.

A better idea would be to track the years that were good for ALL vintners in an area, and plan your wine purchasing and drinking around that. 2009 is still considered to be one of the best years ever for Bordeaux, with a long, hot, dry summer that allowed the grapes to fully mature, ripen, and develop tremendous flavor. Today’s bottle, a 2009 Chateau La Grange de Grenet Bordeaux, is the fruit of a value label’s efforts during that banner year.

Information on this vintage I found on wine site rhsight.com indicates that this Bordeaux, a mix of 80 percent merlot and 20 percent cabernet franc, is aged for ten months in stainless steel tanks (the blend is mixed four months in, so the blend gets to mellow for six months before bottling.) The unoaked aging should allow the fruit flavors to shine through in the flavor of this wine.

Here’s the thing — I found this wine in a bargain bin at the end of the aisle at my corner wine shop. Plenty of 2009 Bordeaux is still out there, and lots of it can be had for a bargain. The next time you see one, you might consider stocking your wine cellar with a case or two of it. This label certainly wouldn’t be a bad start.

How does it look? This Bordeaux is fully opaque, with a deep plum color. It’s light-bodied, and has almost no legs, suggesting that this wine’s going to be a bit dry.

How does it smell? The La Grange de Grenet’s nose doesn’t have much fruit to it. Instead, the odor’s a bit floral and tannic, without much of an alcohol scent (even though this wine has 13 percent alcohol by volume.)

But how does it taste? This wine’s a pleasant, light-drinking, complex Bordeaux. The fruit flavors — ripe plum and sour cherry — are there, but they’re not overpowering, and the wine is fairly dry. There are some chocolate and leathery notes as well. This wine’s been aging for three years now, so I’m not surprised that the tannins are almost nonexistent, or that the alcohol flavor is very muted.

What should I eat it with? I wouldn’t serve this with a main course, but it would go great with a bread/cheese spread, a crudite platter, a light lunch, or even brunch. (I was almost compelled to type “breakfast”, but this is a family publication.)

Before you write this off as just another canned beer that has been mass produced with no flavor to scam you on a Saturday night; I’ll tell you to pause, Avid Reader, and ask yourself a question: would I do that to you?  Of course I wouldn’t, so be quiet and listen as I tell you about a neat pilsner that might change your drinking habits.

It was a Friday night and realizing that I would need to fend for myself that evening for dinner, I swung into one of my usual spots to order a steak bomb and grabbed some beers to wash everything down.  The appearance of these cans will make you think “cheap beer” and that was my impression until I paid for it and discovered it wasn’t too cheap at all.  Thank goodness the taste paid off.

This six-pack was cold when I bought them, so when I got home I separated one, took out a pilsner glass and poured out the golden yella liquid.  Right off the bat I could tell this was not your standard triple hopped pilsner; no, it had a distinct aroma that indicated I was in for a surprise.  The sub went down easy and the beer went down easier.

Considering I drank the first one kind of fast, it was a long week at work; I took my time with the second can and noticed the smooth flavor and crisp aftertaste.  Clocking in at 5.3%, this was not a wimpy beer, and after the second can I was starting to feel a lot more relaxed than I was a few hours earlier.

Oskar Blues has a full line of canned beers that are exported from the distant land of Colorado.  Many people knock beer in a can but the truth is that it is easier to ship, store and manufacture in large quantities.  If you are looking for a canned beer that will give you a little more bang for your buck, I suggest you go find some cans of this pilsner and hide them for your friends to find.  This is what a pilsner should taste like.

Benedictine falls into the “less exciting” category, for the most part. An herbal liqueur made with a secret blend of 27 herbs and ingredients, Benedictine was falsely claimed to be made by the Benedictine monks, whose recipe was lost to time until it was “rediscovered” by the businessman who actually developed the stuff. Benedictine is a thick, sweet liqueur with complex herbal notes. It’s often paired with brandy to cut the sugary flavors. (There’s actually a pre-mixed version of the drink that’s sold — B&B, for Benedictine and Brandy.)

This week’s recipe is similar to that B&B, but it’s layered like a Pousse L’Amour (just without the raw egg.) It’s a French cafe drink — something that’s served at room temperature, and meant to be a pre-aperitif, to be consumed in the afternoon. Make it in a sherry glass, a narrow white wine glass, or a champagne flute, and make sure you use a spoon to layer the liqueurs.

Brandy Champerelle

• 1 oz . brandy
• 1 oz. curacao
• 1 oz. benedictine
• 3 dashes Angostura bitters

Pour 1 oz. benedictine into a sherry glass or champagne flute. Pour 1 oz. curacao over top of that, using a spoon and pouring slowly to create a second layer. In the same fashion, pour 1 oz. brandy over the curacao. Carefully float 3 dashes of  Angostura bitters to the top and serve.

Is there a way to keep an open bottle of sparkling wine from losing its carbonation?  I enjoy cocktails that have a float of sparkling wine but am left with a bottle that is more than half full when I make cocktails for just my husband and me.  Currently, I only make these drinks when we entertain a larger group, as I am more likely to use the entire bottle. 

This is a problem that’s beguiled bartenders ever since people started mixing cocktails, and while there have been attempts at solutions, none of them are perfect. You can buy any number of rubber-tipped champagne stoppers that are designed, one way or another, to stop up the charge in a bottle of sparkling wine. At one of the bars I work at, we use several of the devices listed on that page interchangeably; none are great, and none stand above the rest, but they all do the job, helping a bottle of bubbly hold its fizz for a day or two (but not indefinitely).

If you wanted to get serious about this, there was a more elegant (if not more complicated) solution used in the 1800s. Hollow corkscrews were invented around 1830 as a way to pull charged water or wine from a bottle without opening the bottle to the air. (This gave way to the siphon bottle, which was popular pretty much until screw-top bottled soda water became widely distributed in the 1950s.) I can’t find anywhere that sells a modern version of the hollow corkscrew, but check here for a photo (it’s picture number 5.) It looks like a serious piece of equipment — and since it looks like it would be hell to dig that into a cork, I’m somewhat glad we don’t use them anymore.

The simplest solution to your problem, though, would just be to buy smaller bottles of sparkling wine. While not every vintner sells splits, plenty do, and you don’t need to worry about getting your favorite label for your cocktails — any decent sparkling wine will add a bit of fizz and a bit of grapey sweetness to your drinks. 187 ml splits (a quarter of a normal 750 ml bottle of sparkling wine) are common. Depending on the cocktail you’re making and the recipe you’re using, that’s enough for a float for four-eight drinks — which might be more than you’d need for yourself and your husband, but this way, you only have to worry about a little more than a glass’  worth of bubbly turning flat.

One more quick note — make sure you don’t give any credence to the old wives’ tale that says a silver spoon inserted in the champagne bottle will keep it fizzy. That’s just not true (though it was the subject of a Mythbusters segment in 2004.)

That one word will save you a lot of trouble the next time you’re offered any of the flavored vodkas by Burnett’s. I’ve detailed the horrors of their orange variant I’d experienced at the hands of a rogue bartender once before, but now I’ve experienced the pain of a thousand suns.

Cinnamon, cherry, sour apple, watermelon, citrus – all of which are horrible – were in full effect at a frat shindig I was invited to a few nights ago. How I keep getting myself into these situations, I’ll never know, but it was a fun learning experience in which the highlight of my night was DJ’ing with YouTube.

Seriously – this is how “the kids” play music nowadays. Doubleyou-tee-eff.

Anyway, my choice of poison for the night was good ‘ol Natty Boh. It’s cheap, it doesn’t taste awful, and it does a good job of quenching your thirst. It’s also Baltimore’s favorite beer. Yeah, I know, PBR‘s a mainstay too, but you hipsters can keep that trash, okay? So National Bohemian it was and, unfortunately for me, it’s not all it was.

Look, it’s not that I couldn’t help myself – it was all for science, and it wasn’t like I was pounding shots of the stuff back like some inexperienced goon, either. Oh no, at the risk of looking like a square in front of a bunch of jocks, I sampled about three or four varieties of Burnett’s, each with a very small sip, a swirl in the mouth and an immediate swallow and gag. Like I said, this was purely to try these out, and since it was free I felt like, why not?

“Why not” indeed…

Here’s how you sum up Burnett’s; take any flavor you can imagine, create the worst-possible candy flavoring for it and mix that in with vodka that’s about an smooth as alligator hide and pour that on an open wound. That’s the Burnett’s experience.

After my ordeal I asked the guys why they’d had such an abomination at their party. “It’s cheap” was the reply.

Let me make this perfectly clear – never buy booze just because it’s cheap. If you’re doing that, you’re drinking for the wrong reasons, my friends. I would never wish Burnett’s on anyone – my studies on the subject confirm my suspicions that it’s good for one thing…

Nothing.

Now, even if it’s simple, a flavorful wine isn’t a bad thing, of course. We need wine to pair with a pizza on a Tuesday night just as we need wine to pair with our Sunday feast. The Arboreto Montepulciano is the former. With that note, enjoy.

How’s it look? The Montepulciano is medium-bodied, with thin legs. It’s a deep indigo color, but quite translucent.

How’s it smell? This wine’s nose is robust and fruity, with ripe apple, strawberry, and plum aromas mixed with some pungent floral notes and a decent amount of alcohol aroma.

But how does it taste? This wine’s flavor profile is fairly simple, but powerful. The same plum, berry, and apple fruit flavors on the nose are present, but they’re dry and tart. There aren’t any bitter tannin flavors (maybe due to the fact that this wine’s almost two years old already), but there’s a strong alcohol flavor, especially for a wine that’s only % alcohol by volume.

What should I eat it with? Grilled meats, appetizers, or light dinner food. Again, pizza or spaghetti would pair well with it. Chicken parmagiana might go well, though veal parm would be a bit too rich.

As you know, Avid Reader, I’m always on the lookout for unique or “one off” brews to sample and tell you about.  I find them to be more rewarding than a typical beer you can find in vast quantity at any store.  Case in point, I present to you a deviation from those folks at Newcastle; you may know them for their standard brown ale but have you heard of their Founder’s Ale?  That’s what I thought, allow me to introduce you.

With any good beer I pick up to sample, I always allow for a little quality time in the fridge to cool down a bit before we begin the usual routine.  Removing the beer, taking off the top and depositing the liquid in my favorite glass, I begin the arduous process of drinking.  This is quite a task and should not be approached by the faint of heart.  It takes a professional and I left my credentials in another pair of pants.

This beer is a tribute to the heritage and previous brewers that made Newcastle the name it is today.  I pictured some kind of dark beer and instead was greeted with a pale ale.  The aroma started to pull me in, as it was very mellow and I didn’t sense any bitter to this ale.  Truth be told, I found it to be kind of sweet with a great finish.  There was nothing bitter about this ale and that was the best part.  There was perfect golden color to the pint, and I was pleased with the way it all wrapped together.

Many pale beers you drink are bitter and can often be a few steps shy of an IPA; not this one.  This was a smooth, slightly sweet brew that was far too easy to drink, and I was disappointed with myself for grabbing just one bottle.  Keep your eyes open for this one and grab a six pack if you can.  The beer is billed as a limited release; whatever you grab make sure to save an extra for yourself because one just won’t do.

At its core, though, the Cosmo is a model of the blueprint we use to create just about every flavored martini. There’s a long pour of a base spirit (in this, and many cases, it’s vodka.) There’s a smaller pour of a liqueur to add or change the flavor, and a splash of one or two juices — enough to change the flavor and color of the drink without diluting its strength. The same model, with a couple of tweaks, can give you a peach martini, a sour apple martini, a chocolate martini, and countless other derivations. (In fact, by this model, just about any cocktail — Sex on the Beach? Bay Breeze? — could be made into a martini by doubling the amount of liquor and reducing the amount of juice added.)

Cocktail purists could argue (quite successfully) that none of this should be called a martini. They’re certainly not the same as a classic 5-1 gin martini. You can even argue that flavored martinis are ruining their namesake. Witness the rise of the dirty martini, a “standard” martini with a measure of salty olive brine added. (Depending on the customer, most bars now carry much bigger martini glasses to accommodate cocktails with a decent portion of juice added to them, and many customers (especially younger ones) are used to the idea that they should be able to drink martinis that taste like candy. (I’ve had customers send back actual martinis — as in, martinis with vodka and vermouth as the only ingredients — complaining they taste too much like alcohol, so something must be wrong.)

But enough of all that — the Cosmo. So long as you use quality ingredients, it’s a good cocktail. That means more than just springing for good vodka. Make sure you’re using a quality cranberry juice, along with a good orange cordial like Cointreau instead of triple sec. (You can substitute fresh-squeezed lime for the Rose’s lime juice if you like a drier cocktail.)

Cosmopolitan

• 2 oz. vodka
• 1 oz. Cointreau or triple sec
• 1 oz. cranberry juice
• 1/2 oz. Rose’s lime juice, or, the juice of 1/4 lime.

So I’m invited over to a good friend’s house to partake in some festivities, excellent food, and refreshing drinks. After a heaping plateful of grilled bratwurst, asparagus, potatoes, and chicken, it was time for some Yahtzee. Now, you may be asking yourself how Yahtzee could possibly be enjoyable, and I don’t blame you. I personally can only go roughly two rounds without wanting to claw my way to freedom – just imagine feeling the need to desperately fight in order to escape certain peril at the nefarious hands of five dice and a sheet of paper. The trick to an enjoyable game of Yahtzee is one simple rule: Whenever a one is rolled, everybody drinks.

At any rate, after so much game and merriment my host decided he wanted to surprise me with a wonderful offering of Kentucky straight bourbon whiskey – Wild Turkey, 101 proof. You could imagine that the night immediately took a turn for the worst. I can assure you, my dear friend, discretion is indeed the better part of valor. One small sip was enough to sample both the intense sweetness of vanilla and honey, and the immense heat and warmth that comes from a drink that is so high in alcohol content that you can light it on fire. I am in no way saying that you should light your booze on fire. Only a fool would do that – a fool named Geoff.

Ha.

Wild Turkey 101 is not what I would consider a sipping whiskey. In my mind, it is much too harsh for such endeavors. However, it is an excellent kick in the mouth when mixed with your favorite root beer. You might be hard pressed to find a suitable root beer for mixing, so let me save you the trouble. You can forget about Mug, or A&W, or Barq’s; all of these do one thing and one thing only – give you the burps without any satisfaction of taste. What you need is a delicious Jones Soda – these things are uniquely made by a unique company, and have that great taste of allspice, chocolate, and cinnamon that makes your taste buds dance.

Put that in your tumbler and sip it.

How’s it look? The Vermentino looks like a light-bodied wine, with almost no legs. It’s transparent, and a brilliant yellow-green — almost like an apple juice.

How’s it smell? Musky and grassy, with some light, sweet fruit notes.

But how does it taste?  The La Cala is a red wine drinker’s white wine — dry and complex. It has tart apple and pear notes, but without any of the sweetness of most wines that hold those characteristics. Instead, this Vermentino is alkaline, with grassy notes and a bit of oak.

What should I eat with it? Roasted vegetables, seafood, or savory hors d’oeuvres would all pair well with this La Cala, if you didn’t want to drink it by itself.

Before we start this excursion, Avid Reader, I should preface that I do not drive a Chevy, nor do I reside by a levee and the rye we are sampling this week is in a beer instead of whisky.  You can still sing about the day the music died if you’d like to; I’ll be telling you about my new favorite spring time IPA courtesy of the folks at Sierra Nevada.

Back in 2009 I fell victim to the amazing Torpedo Extra IPA.  Then in 2010 it was the Glissade that did me in, and for some reason I took a break last spring, but we’re back this year with a floral IPA that has tons of flavor and character.  I can always count on the folks at Sierra Nevada to brew up something tasty for the seasons.  With a name like ruthless I decided to chill out this brew for a bit to show it who was boss, that would be me.

Pouring out the liquid to my favorite pint glass I noticed the golden hue rise up and a nice white head appear on top.  When everything calmed down, I found the aroma to be pleasant as the rye was very noticeable up front.  There was the usual hop smell as well, but the rye was calling to me so I did what I do best.

The bitter flavor was a little different than most IPA’s I’m used to and that was a nice surprise.  There was a ton of complexity to this brew and the bitterest bite was waiting at the end which made me smack my lips.  A little while later I did notice that the bitter kept up the bite while everything else seemed to smooth out, and I did enjoy that piece.  I like a beer that can hold on to the flavor at room temperature.

If you are looking for a new spring IPA, then look no further, folks.  I have a feeling I’ll be making the acquaintance of this brew again in the future and I suggest you go and grab yourself a case to have around the house.  This is a beer to be shared on a cool spring evening, and if we’re lucky there might be a few of those coming soon.

The extra spice makes ginger beer completely different from its more boring cousin, ginger ale, but it can be used in most of the same drinks — it mixes equally well with whiskey or rum, and would likely mix well with brandy too. (Everything, of course, mixes with vodka. But that’s getting ahead of myself.) Ginger beer is available in most large supermarkets, but if you can’t find it there, your local liquor store should have some in stock, sold in either four- or six-packs of cans or bottles. (I’ve occasionally seen it sold in two-liter bottles as well.)

Today’s recipes, the Dark and Stormy and the Moscow Mule, are the two most common drinks served with ginger beer. The former is popular in the sailing community, and seems to have hailed originally from the Bahamas; the latter became a craze when vodka became America’s liquor du jour in the 1950s. Neither is a complicated recipe, but both have singular flavors because of the ginger beer. Serve either one to guests at your next party and they’re guaranteed to be impressed.

Dark and Stormy

• 1.5 oz dark rum
• 4 oz. ginger beer

Fill a highball glass ice, and fill 2/3 with ginger beer, leaving room for the dark rum. Pour dark rum slowly, against the side of the glass, so that the liquor floats over the ginger beer. (To make this effect easier, you can rest a spoon upside-down at the top of the ginger beer, and pour the rum over the spoon.) Serve with a slice of lime; do not stir, but provide a straw, spoon or swizzle stick so that your guests can mix the drink themselves if they’d like.

Moscow Mule

• 1.5 oz vodka
• 4 oz. ginger beer

A few of the martinis that I have ordered at restaurants have been presented in a cocktail glass with a sugar coated rim.  To make the same presentation at home, can I use regular white sugar?  Also, what would I use to make the sugar stick?

You can use plain sugar — most bars do as well. The fancier bars use superfine sugar, a granular sugar with a thinner consistency than “regular”‘ white sugar, that is also known as “baker’s sugar.” Superfine sugar is still granular, so it’s not quite as thin as powdered sugar, but the smaller granules stick to the lip of a glass much more easily, and they look better, too. (Superfine is available at the grocery store for about the same price as regular sugar. Aside from working well to rim cocktail glasses, it also dissolves in liquid much more easily than table sugar. If you picked up a box, it wouldn’t go to waste.)

Sugar (and salt, for that matter) sticks to wet glass. When we rim a glass with either, bartenders moisten the lip first one of two ways; we either run a fresh slice of citrus around the lip once or twice, or we dip the lip in a liquid — usually Rose’s sweetened lime juice, but regular lime juice, lemon juice, or even water would work just as well. Once the glass’s lip is wet, we dip that in a salt or sugar cellar, let it set for a second, then shake off the excess and pour the drink into the glass.

Having one of these salt/sugar cellars makes the whole process dirt simple, but all you really need is a pile of sugar in a bowl, on a plate, or even on a napkin. Moisten the rim of the glass (either with a slice of fruit, or by pouring a small amount of lime juice or other liquid into a bowl or onto a plate wider than the rim of the glass, then dipping the glass into it), and then roll the lip through the sugar. Shake off any excess, set the glass down right-side-up, and pour your drink as you normally would. While you can rim glasses right before serving them, you can also do it well ahead of time — so if you’re planning a party, and you want to prepare a dozen sugared martini glasses a few hours before to serve your favorite sour watermelon margaritas, go right ahead. I won’t stop you.

Sugared rims are used both to accentuate the sweet taste of certain drinks and to offset the sour bite of  drinks like a lemon drop or a sidecar. A salt rim is de rigueur for margaritas, and is also used for the mysteriously named Salty Dog (simply a Greyhound — vodka mixed with grapefruit juice — with salt on the rim). Salted rims can occasionally be used elsewhere — a salt rim would work for a Bloody Mary, and if you mixed up a caramel martini and gave it a salty rim, it could be fun. (Oddly, while superfine sugar is used to rim glasses, salt for cocktail rims should actually be coarse kosher salt, rather than fine table salt.)