What we’re drinking

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#WhatWereDrinking has been a hashtag we’ve been using for the Bar Keeper Instagram feed (y’all know I work at Bar Keeper now, yes?), and I thought it seemed time to start a similar series in the newly revitalized Looka!

Just messing around tonight, but can’t take any particular credit for this as it’s just one or more variations on one or more themes. Arguably this is kind of a Black Manhattan/Negroni/Old Pal hybrid or some such. Equal amounts Congenial Spirits Twelve Five Rye, Aperol, and Amaro CioCiaro, with Bitter Truth grapefruit bitters and an orange twist. Delightfully smooth and mellow, but still aperitif-y.

A darker flower

You may remember the Golden Dahlia. If you do, I both commend and thank you. Commend, because your memory may be tenacious as the proverbial better mousetrap. Thank, because that’s a drink I’m still quite proud of, and one that I think is simple in all the good, even the best ways. What has this got to do with anything? Read on.

I like Kraken. Hell, I have a certain fondness for Captain Morgan’s, as long as it’s in a Cable Car (which I first tasted and enjoyed, believe it or not, at the beautiful Petrossian Bar at the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas). But yeah, I like Kraken, I think it’s a fine product, and I’ve wanted for the longest time to do something interesting with it. But what, O what would that be?

That was indeed the question. You could arguably call me lazy, but I was quite happy to fall back on a formula I had previously established as successful, at least as a start. On various evenings, I tried two or perhaps three slightly different variations on the Golden Dahlia theme (rum + amaro modifier) with Kraken as the base spirit and various amari as modifier. Despite my mental conjurations and resultant high expectations, none were successful. (I can be a harsh and demanding but realistic judge of my own efforts.) I found myself feeling frustrated and thwarted. Deep down, I knew this should work. Why did it not?

Weeks went by.

I mean, seriously. I’m not joking. Weeks went by. I pondered, but did not know what to do. And then…the magic happened. As it has done before, but still. I said something along the lines of, “I’m happy with this as far as it goes, but I want it to be, you know, punchier somehow.” And yet I didn’t know quite what to do to punch it up. Fortunately, Chuck had a thought: “I know what will give it some oomph.” The moving finger writes, and having writ, etc.

And so: Kraken, because I like it. (I have a superawesome long-sleeve promo t-shirt! Which, yes, I do wear!) Ramazzotti, because I do so love a good amaro, especially as a rum modifier. Lemon Hart 151 Demerara Rum, for the oomph. Luxardo Fernet, because it reminds me of NYC (where I first tasted it, at Babbo), and for its clean yet complex flavor that for me is like unto Fernet Branca, but with clear black pepper rather than menthol. Orange bitters, for their brightness.

Considering her dark hue and kinship with her lighter, golden sibling, and meaning and intending no disrespect of poor Elizabeth Short, I have called this concoction:

Black Dahlia
created by Wesly Moore and Chuck Taggart

2 oz. Kraken Black Spiced Rum
3/4 oz. Ramazzotti
1/4 Lemon Hart 151
Barspoon Luxardo Fernet
3-4 dashes orange bitters (your preference; I like Miracle Mile, Regan’s No. 6, and Angostura)

Stir over ice. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange twist, if you feel extravagant; it is quite fine without.

Dark. Bitter. Mysterious.

You may enjoy it.

Two great tastes that taste great together

Those of you who have been following along here for a while will likely remember that Chuck and I are members of an august body known as the Fat Pack. The reasons for the name are likely self-evident, and although there is indeed a story behind the name (and the excursion on which it was assumed), that falls squarely under the heading of What Happens In Vegas, Stays In Vegas. Suffice it to say that, when we all get together, as a general rule, eating is involved. Why, just imagine your surprise! I can feel it from here.

For several years now, one of the Fat Pack’s annual traditions has been Second Thanksgiving. What, well may you ask, is Second Thanksgiving? In response I say, “Consider the hobbits and their dining habits, and all shall be made clear.”  Second Thanksgiving is a day—usually the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend—spent with friends (the family you choose), free of family tension, drama and general angstiness. It is an opportunity to connect and re-connect, to get caught up, and to show off one’s cooking prowess with something especially decadent, most likely incorporating bacon or other variations on the theme of pork…but, bacon. Yes.

In past years I’ve tended to leave the cooking to Chuck, because I don’t really cook, not like he does, and also I’m lazy. But last year he was out of town for the holiday, arriving home basically just in time to hop in the car and head off to Second Thanksgiving. So last year I cooked, or rather baked, or rather followed one (actually it was two) of Paula Deen’s butter-based recipes. As I recall, one of them started with biscuits from a tube, and the other with crescent rolls from a tube. Ah, Paula, how we love thee!

But this year I decided to bake from scratch. Because, while I’m not really a cook, I do like to bake. Cakes and cookies are fun and actually pretty easy, if you can measure and stay organized—this may be why I like mixing cocktails. Pies, on the other hand, are more difficult—pastry crust is just difficult for me, and custard fillings…well, they’re daunting. But my granny taught me to bake cookies, and I knew I could pull off something good if I didn’t mess around. It came to me as if in a dream, and I knew it was the right, perfect idea: Peanut Butter Cookies…with Bacon. It’s a classic with a twist! And the twist is bacon! I basically couldn’t go wrong, unless I burned them.

Interestingly, it never occurred to me to look for an actual recipe for Peanut Butter Cookies with Bacon—I just searched up a cookie recipe that looked a lot like my granny’s, and added bacon to it. So I’m not trying to take credit for originality here, just for the thought and effort. Oh, and the success. The base recipe is from allrecipes.com; all the bacon stuff is mine. Without further ado:

Peanut Butter Cookies with Bacon

1 cup unsalted butter
1 cup crunchy peanut butter
1 cup white sugar
1 cup brown sugar, packed
2 eggs
2-1/2 cups all purpose flour
1-1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 ounces applewood-smoked bacon

Cook the bacon until crisp. Strain and reserve the bacon fat. Put aside four strips of bacon. Eat two of them, and give the other two to your honey to eat. Crumble the rest of the bacon and set aside.

Cream together the butter, peanut butter and sugars. Beat in eggs, one at a time.

In a separate bowl, sift together flour, baking soda and powder and salt. Stir into batter. Fold crumbled bacon into the batter. Refrigerate batter for one hour.

Heat oven to 375ºF.

Roll cookie dough into 1-inch balls and put on baking sheets. (Optional step—grease the baking sheet with some of the reserved bacon fat.) Flatten each ball with a fork, making the classic cross-hatch pattern. Bake for about 10 minutes, or until cookies start to brown. DO NOT OVER-BAKE.

Cool on racks, then enjoy.

I had a lot of fun baking, and it’s been a while, so that was good. My Granny Foster (my mom’s mother) was talking to me in my head from the moment I pulled out the mixing bowl, and pretty much throughout the whole process, and those were nice memories to savor. “Make sure you start with a big enough bowl!” “Be sure to stir all around the outside of the bowl, not just in the middle, and all the way to the bottom, not just the top. Otherwise your dough won’t be right, and the cookies will come out wrong.” “One-inch dough balls are just silly; you want one-and-a-half-inch balls. They’ll take longer to bake, but the cookies will be bigger and better.” (If you do this, the baking time will be closer to 12 minutes.) It was nice to hear her voice again, even if only in my head, and I like to think that she’d be glad to see me baking from scratch.

As it turned out, my experiment was entirely successful: the cookies were a big hit at Second Thanksgiving, and I noticed extras going home in zip-lock bags for later enjoyment. Our friend Larry reportedly “went coo-coo” for them, which is pretty much the best reaction I could possibly have hoped for. It’s worth mentioning that the recipe was annotated with “Servings: 24”. I read this as “Makes two dozen” and thought, “Oh no, two dozen cookies will never be enough—I need to double this.” Which I did, and it was way more than I needed—I still have about 1/3 of the dough in the refrigerator, and I need to either freeze it for later or bake even yet still more cookies…the horror, the horror. I can only imagine that the 24 people being served are supposed to eat three cookies each, or more like four if you’re just silly and make one-inch dough balls. Just something to keep in mind; your mileage, of course, may vary.

 

The unexpected brilliance of “Teen Wolf”

I watch a lot of TV. I freely admit that some of it is crap. I also see a lot of horror films, and I likewise freely admit that some of them are crap. While a stylish, classy horror film is a thing of beauty and a joy forever, the simple truth is that I also really enjoy a good schlockfest. There’s nothing like “Deadly Friend”, “Chopping Mall” or “Cellar Dweller” to while away an evening. Oh, and let us not forget “I, Madman” (which, poor thing, doesn’t even warrant its own Wikipedia entry). I will defend the good stuff, but I’m not ashamed to own the crap.

Horror on TV, though, has been (no pun intended, but take one if you like) a bit of a crapshoot, especially of late. I’m thinking of anthology series like Showtime’s “Masters of Horror”, which started off well but deteriorated quickly after the first season. Or NBC’s “Fear Itself”, interesting but thuddingly mediocre overall, with one stunning exception: a twisted zombie story called “New Year’s Day”. Has it really been so long since “Kolchak: The Night Stalker” and “Night Gallery”? I guess it has.

So, although I was dubious at first—highly so, in fact—now I find myself wondering if I’m the only person on the planet who thinks that MTV’s reboot series “Teen Wolf” isn’t that bad? That maybe, just maybe, it’s actually pretty good? That it is, in fact, kind of…weirdly…brilliant? The other night—I think it was after watching episode four—I turned to Chuck and said as much, and he didn’t actually disagree. Thus justified, or at least emboldened, I’ve been thinking about the reasons why. I waited until after episode five to formulate my conclusions, just to make sure I wasn’t making any snap judgments. Things can always change, of course, but so far what I’ve seen has been pretty consistent, so I feel safe or at least comfortable in my analysis, such as it is.

Taking horror seriously is a good idea.

Funny horror, if not perfectly executed, rings false and grows tiring. I’m not arguing that this is a rule with few exceptions so much that the balance here is difficult, even almost impossible to strike. The sheer, unadulterated genius of “Beetlejuice” springs instantly to mind; I watched it again recently with my friend LeeAnn (who had never seen it! O, the shame!), and it still works—gloriously. (“I myself am…strange and unusual.”) But it is, make no mistake, a rarity. For every “Beetlejuice,” there’s a…well…a “Teen Wolf”.  Or fifty.  In a fairly radical break from its in-name-only forebear, MTV’s “Teen Wolf” (hereinafter referred to as MTVTW), takes the horror seriously—hell, there’s a horribly mutilated victim in the very first episode—and in my opinion is the better for it.

Thankfully, it isn’t too serious, Sturm und Drang serious, so serious as to lose all life and perspective. (I’m thinking of Spike’s “Blade” series, notable for being the only time any Spike programming has landed on our DVR (please don’t judge me). I liked the movies to varying degrees—“Blade” is great, “Blade II” is absolutely freaking brilliant, and “Blade: Trinity” …um…has a great title and co-stars Ryan Reynolds.  I liked a lot about the series, too, but overall it was far too serious for its own good, and in the end nobody cared.  No, MTVTW knows how to bring the humor. On the one hand, I shudder to think about the story meeting where somebody proposed the idea of a “comic sidekick”; on the other hand, I hope that writer is still on the show. Because the result is Dylan O’Brien’s appealingly portrayed best-buddy-to-the-hero, Stiles. We learned in episode five that Stiles isn’t actually his name—he just prefers Stiles to his apparently embarrassing yet still undisclosed first name. The non-reveal reveal of that moment made me laugh out loud. This is the kind of quiet comedy that orbits Stiles, zipping and crashing around like an asteroid belt. You never know when funny sparks are going to fly.

Tweak the mythology.

Everybody knows the basic story: boy meets dog, dog bites boy, boy turns into dog. This story has been told for centuries, from story-legends passed on verbally around crackling campires to CGI extravaganzas intended to hook the new generation (and spawn a movie franchise…or, you know, not). This story, like any other, has changed over the years of its telling; after all, storytellers embellish. Why not, if it makes things more interesting? Now, when I talk about “tweaking the mythology” I’m not talking about angsty, dewy-eyed, sparkly boy-toy vampires. (Nope, no link.  You know what I’m talking about.)  I am at least hoping for something far more interesting. I’m talking about the kind of enhancements that (speaking of vampires) make the ongoing storylines of CW’s “The Vampire Diaries” so much more intriguing and enjoyable than you’d think they have any right to be. (Rings that let vampires walk in daylight? Where did they get them? Who all has them? I must know more! TVD, from whose playbook MTVTW seems to have borrowed a judicious idea or two, is another show that gets a lot of things right.) Here, the main tweak is still being fleshed out, but it has something to do with different types of werewolves: run-of-the-mill pack wolves vs. some kind of super “alpha” wolf.

It seems clear that there’s more than one method to the madness. One smart outcome here is that our recently bitten title character (Scott McCall, played by Tyler Posey), who now turns into a fairly standard-issue werewolf, is actually a hero we can root for, not a tragic figure or anti-hero. Win the big game! Kiss the girl! Don’t get found out! It’s a familiar model, but in an unexpected setting. Beacon Hills is Smallville, Tyler’s Scott McCall is Clark Kent, the wolf is the hero…really, it’s not too big a stretch. And it’s a good idea. It also allows for fairly minor rather than elaborate makeup (or expensive CGI) on the title character (along with occasional glowing yellow eyes, just for emphasis), which keeps him recognizable and accessible. But make no mistake—there’s still another Bad Wolf, and at least one whose allegiances are in flux. It’s a lot to keep track of, but it’s also interesting.

People like to look at pretty people.

It’s true. We do. That’s why movie stars and models are all beautiful. (Well, those strange American Apparel ad campaigns aside. They’re like the anti-Abercrombie & Fitch.) This is not exactly new news—any number of CW shows get this much right, if nothing more, but that alone doesn’t make them watchable.  Believe it or not, the trick is to make sure the pretty people are window dressing, not the main attraction. For your consideration, MTVTW offers (in no particular order):

  • Model-turned-actor Colton Haynes, not the best actor in the world but still model-pretty and fairly passable as an extraordinarily frustrated jock confused by a high school dynamic that’s even stranger than the norm.
  • Smokin’ hot Tyler Hoechlin, all grown (and buffed) up since traveling the Road to Perdition with Tom Hanks, and rocking a triskelion-ish tattoo across his shoulder blades, no doubt just for the exotic mystery.
  • Crystal Reed and Holland Roden, lovely ladies indeed, all dewy eyes, shining hair and warm voices. There’s also Jill Wagner as tough-as-nails Kate Argent (get it?), a wolf hunter who will no doubt bring tension, angst and conflict to Our Hero and his Trusty Sidekick.
  • Speaking of which—Dylan O’Brien, geeky but not too much so and terrifically appealing. The perfect sidekick; he’s funny, devoted and—perhaps most importantly—completely non-threatening. There’s no subtext in this relationship, none at all.
  • Pocket-sized yet impressively fit Tyler Posey, who’s more cuddly wolf-pup than slavering beast. It’s surely no coincidence that he has shaggy hair and big, brown puppy-dog eyes that are noticed (and commented on) not just by the viewing audience but by other characters…the better to go with his occasional wolfy sideburns, my dear!

Truly, there’s nothing that works like knowing your target audience.

Make your young actors not too old.

There’s a fairly common problem with TV shows set in high school: the actors are usually too old to pass as teenagers, if not at first then certainly over time. Yes, “BH 90210” and “Glee” , I’m looking at you. What adults do watch these shows may not notice or care, but actual teenagers will know the difference. Of course, like any others the actors on MTVTW will age, noticeably so if the series runs for more than a couple of years, but for now at least they aren’t too old—Tyler Posey is actually still a teenager (he’s 19, at least for a few more months), and Dylan O’Brien is only a couple of months older. It’s nothing like poor 28-year-old (and, eventually, 38) Gabrielle Carteris trying to pass for 17 or so. Oh dear. And, much as I like his character, Mark Salling isn’t really believable as a high-schooler any more, either. Send ‘em off to college!

Keep things happening. Keep things interesting.

Like TVD (and, I would argue, the usually nonsensical but always guilty-pleasurably watchable “V” remake), MTVWD knows its audience. On a show like this, stuff needs to happen. It doesn’t have to make sense, but it has to be interesting. When I say “happen,” I don’t mean every episode—I mean every commercial interval. When I say “interesting,” I mean it has to grab your attention—and keep it until the next thing happens. And when I say “it doesn’t have to make sense,” I pretty much mean that 100%. Who cares if it’s silly? Please—it’s a show about a teenage werewolf! I’m going to give credit to director Russell Mulcahy (“Highlander” —I know, right?) and writers Tim Andrew and Toby Wilkins for getting things off to a tight, intriguing start.

Lacrosse.

Every burgeoning young superhero needs a setting in which to express his super side, ideally without giving away the farm (so to speak). Clark Kent had football, and Scott McCall has lacrosse. Lacrosse? Who plays lacrosse? People on the East Coat, that’s who—and, perhaps not so coincidentally, although it’s set in a fictional small Northern California mountain town, MTVTW is filmed in and around Atlanta, home of any number of youth lacrosse teams. Aha, suddenly it all makes more sense! Sure, maybe it’s because the local actors and extras already know how to play lacrosse. Sure, maybe it’s because the high school location has a lacrosse field but no football equipment. Who cares? Lacrosse fills the clichéd dramatic need for ritualized conflict without being itself a cliché. Our Hero needs to play a sport—it’s what boys in high school do—but his sport of choice happens to be one you’ve probably never played. This is clever, as it allows the necessary imagery to be familiar, yet still fresh. Unsurprisingly, it also allows for scenes played out in the locker room, which as everyone knows is simply de rigeur in horror, not to mention Youth TV.

Credit where credit is due.

No populist exercise in dramatic storytelling that follows a traditional narrative structure (so, not “The Tree of Life” ) can succeed without characters the audience can get its collective grip on, fairly quickly at that, and a hero (or antihero) who is likeable (or not) but most of all relatable. If you and I as viewers can’t connect to the protagonist on some level, we’re unlikely to care how things play out for him or her. I think this is the single biggest thing that was gotten wrong (repeatedly, it must be said) by both “FlashForward” and “The Event” (which at our house was mostly called “The Non-Event”). Did you care what happened to Joseph Fiennes (egregiously miscast) in “FlashForward”? Did you care what happened to Laura Innes (egregiously wasted) or Blair Underwood (egregiously overly made-up, at least in HD) in “The Event”? Neither did I. But, very interestingly, I do care what happens to Scott McCall, and that’s almost entirely due to Tyler Posey. He is, at times awkwardly but always earnestly, acting and emoting his ass off. Each. And. Every. Week. Who knew that the kid from “Maid in Manhattan” had it in him? I don’t know if he’s the Real Deal or not, at least not yet, and he may not be MTVTW’s greatest asset, but I do think he’s its secret weapon.

In its own arguably un-ambitious, self-deprecating way, MTVTW is fairly balls-out brilliant. Honestly, I haven’t enjoyed a new horror series on TV this much since TVD. It’s no “Supernatural”, but then what is?

Hey, maybe next time I’ll tell you why you ought to be watching “Falling Skies”!

Martinique, meet Italy

So the other night—it was in point of fact Wednesday evening—it was my turn to mix. (We take turns at our house, as do civilized gentlemen everywhere.) I had a vague feeling that I wanted something Manhattan-esque, but Chuck had made superlative Manhattans just the previous evening, so that was right out. I felt that something original was called for, and this meant first thought, and then experimentation. “Brown, bitter and stirred” is always well received, so I decided to go in that general direction. In the end, what I came up with was not very brown, but it was nicely bitter, and I stirred it, so hey.

If there’s anything I like almost as much as rye, it’s rum. And if there’s anything I like more than a good amaro, it’s…actually, I don’t know what that is. This gave me the foundational idea I needed to get started. I’d like to say that next I went through some astonishing testing gyrations, or chemical flavor component analysis, or dug deeply into the Flavor Bible. Alas, I can make no such claims. What I did was, I pawed through the liquor stash in the rum and amaro sections and found one of each that (a) weren’t nearly empty and (2) seemed, very subjectively and unscientifically, i.e. all in my mind, like they would play well together.

I see a great deal of sense and logic in Gary Regan’s theory of cocktail and mixed-drink families, as outlined in his essential, eminently readable resource, The Joy of Mixology. Is there a “family name” for drinks following the formula rum + amaro modifier, or even base spirit + amaro modifier? Is it sufficiently original to warrant its own surname? Chuck helpfully pointed out that Cora, like most although not all amari, is not a fortified wine.  So, technically at least, this drink is something other than a Manhattan variation (and therefore not a member of Gary’s French-Italian cocktail family), even though that was certainly my inspiration. In the end, I decided that it didn’t really matter, and if someone decides that it does, they can work out the family tree with my blessing.

But what, oh what were the two bottles I selected? I can hear you wondering from here. I’ll just cut right to the chase. Without further ado:


Golden Dahlia cocktail

Golden Dahlia
created by Wesly Moore

2 ounces Rhum Neisson Agricole Élevé Sous Bois
1 ounces Amaro Cora
3-4 dashes Bittermen’s Xocolatl Mole Bitters
Large lemon twist

Stir over ice, strain into a chilled cocktail glass, and squeeze a lemon twist to express its oils over the surface of the drink. You may choose to commit the delicious sacrilege of dropping the twist into the drink, or not, as you prefer.

[Note: Amaro Cora is hard to find, but you can mail order it without a problem. If you enjoy amari, you need this in your collection. Find it here via Mount Carmel Wines & Spirits in the Bronx, New York City, only $10 per bottle.]

As I mentioned, this cocktail is not terribly, or really even at all, brown—this Neisson is aged for but 18 months in French oak barrels, so the resulting pour is light in color, and Amaro Cora is far from the darkest of the amari I tend to prefer and enjoy. In the glass, the cocktail has a lovely blonde color, and who doesn’t admire a lovely blonde? (I myself thought of Veronica Lake—hence the name I’ve given the drink—although Scarlett Johansson will certainly do in a pinch.) But the flavor experience is somehow browner than that, delightfully complex and pleasantly but not overwhelmingly bitter. Neisson is an agricole rum from Martinique. I love how distinct, uniquely local flavors stand out in agricoles; here the drink has an underlying earthy/grassiness that is just beautiful. I have on occasion overheard Amaro Cora dismissed a bit more readily than I think is warranted, typically for being “not all that bitter”. It’s true: Cora is not as bitter as Cynar or Fernet Branca, but its flavor profile is just gorgeous—lovely notes of orange peel and cinnamon. Here it does play very well together indeed—the bitterness it provides is understated and mellow, but clear and clean. I’m a huge fan of the Bittermens line of bitters (in spite of their disappointing caps, which always seem to crack and split long before the bottle is anywhere near empty), and their Xocolatl Mole is one of my favorites. It’s such a distinctive flavor combination that of course it isn’t suitable for just any cocktail, but here it adds a spicy richness with notes of not-at-all-sweet chocolate that’s just right. I did play a bit with proportions before settling quite happily on the classic and successful 2:1.

And now the world opens up before us, a world of rums, amari and bitters, all with the potential to be combined in luxurious and near-infinite variation, no doubt with varying degrees of success, but all to the pleasure of our palates. Go forth and conquer. Please do post your own suggestions as a comment.