The Best Mint Julep You Will Ever Taste.

I love cocktails, but my favorite cocktail is the mint julep. Just sugar, mint, and bourbon - it's simple, it's delicious, it's brilliant, I wish I had thought of it myself. I used to angst over the perfect recipe for a mint julep - what kind of sugar? how much mint? what ratio of sugar to bourbon? - because I pride myself on making the best cocktails, and if I'm going to claim the mint julep as my favorite I should be able to make a damn good one. Right? But then I convinced one of the bartenders at the Anvil, my favorite local bar, to tell me their recipe for a mint julep. And then I stopped worrying, because this is the best mint julep you will ever taste.

The secret to its deliciousness is the 2:1 turbinado syrup. That means simple syrup, made with turbinado sugar, in a 2:1 sugar to water ratio. This stuff is lovely and thick and really delicious. If you have some left after making mint juleps, you can just eat it. I will not blame you.

How To Make the Best Damn Mint Julep Ever
2 oz bourbon
2 barspoons (teaspoons) 2:1 turbinado simple syrup
some mint (spearmint, from the backyard!)
oh, and crushed ice

Cover the bottom of an old-fashioned glass (or a silver julep cup, if you're all fancy) with a layer of mint leaves. Heck, make it a double layer if you really like mint. Pour the simple syrup on top of the mint and muddle it all real good. Then fill the glass with crushed ice. Then add the bourbon. Then stir. Then drink.

Bonus, because I like you: here's a video of New Orleans bartender Chris McMillian discussing the history and significance of the mint julep. His voice alone is a national treasure, but you'll want to watch because of the 'little bit of prose,' dating back to 1880, that he recites as he makes the drink. It begins like this: "Then comes the zenith of man's pleasure, then comes the julep, the mint julep. Who has not tasted one has lived in vain." Amen.

Blanc. Lillet Blanc.

"A dry martini," he said. "One. In a deep champagne goblet."

"Oui, monsieur."

"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?"

"Certainly, monsieur." The barman seemed pleased with the idea.

"Gosh, that's certainly a drink," said Leiter.

Bond laughed. "When I'm . . . er . . . concentrating," he explained, "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."

Thus spoke James Bond in Casino Royale, the very first novel he appeared in. Never mind that the Bond of the novels was really more of a whiskey man - the Bond films have since elevated "shaken, not stirred" to the stuff of legend. Sadly, though, this particular drink - later named by Bond for the lovely, ultimately doomed double agent Vesper Lynd - has sort of fallen by the wayside.

It's quite easy to make - Gordon's is gin, and vodka is well, vodka. Both of those are common enough. But what in the world is Kina Lillet?

Kina Lillet is (was) an aperitif wine produced in Podensac, France. It's fortified with citrus liqueurs made from sweet and bitter oranges and grapefruit peels, and is flavored with quinine, the stuff that makes tonic water taste so bitter. In the mid-80s, the Lillet company dropped the "Kina" from the name and also significantly decreased the quinine component. Now Lillet (pronounced "lee-lay") is available in blanc and rouge variations; the blanc is called for here.

Taste test time! I'm drinking my Lillet Blanc "well chilled", just like the bottle says.

Smell: Like white wine, but a bit grassy and herbal. Reminds me of dry vermouth.
Taste: A bit wine-y and very citrusy, with a slightly bitter finish.

So now that you know all there is to know about Lillet (or all the important things, anyway), it's time to re-visit the James Bond Martini.

The Vesper
3 oz London Dry gin
1 oz vodka
1/2 oz Lillet Blanc
2 dashes angostura bitters

David Wondrich, who wrote a very thorough and entertaining article about the ideal formulation of this drink, recommends adding the bitters to get a bit closer to the original, bitter-er Kina Lillet version. (The ideal, he says, would be to hunt down some quinine powder, but I'm a little too lazy for that.) He also gives the directions for mixing it thusly:

Shake (if you must) with plenty of cracked ice. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and twist a large swatch of thin-cut lemon peel over the top. Shoot somebody evil.

I'm Daniel Craig, and I approve this cocktail.

And since you've already comitted to a whole bottle of Lillet to make your James Bond drinks (and since I have basil running wild in the backyard), here's another Lillet cocktail for your drinking pleasure:

Sweet Basil
(from Todd Thrasher of Restaurant Eve, via Food & Wine Cocktails 2009)
10 basil leaves
3 ounces Lillet Blanc
1/2 oz gin
1 oz simple syrup

In a shaker, lightly muddle the basil leaves. Add the Lillet, gin and simple syrup and fill the shaker with ice. Shake and strain into a cocktail glass. Sip lovingly. Don't forget to store your Lillet in the fridge after you're done - it'll keep longer than way. (It is wine, after all.) Cheers.

The best of the infused vodka, and what to do with it.

If you've been following this blog, you might have noticed that for some time I've been working on perfecting a few different kinds of infused vodka. Along the way I made some infusions that were totally disgusting (beet and horseradish...blech), some that were just underwhelming (lemon and fennel), and some that showed promise. Those I tweaked, and tasted, and re-infused, and re-tasted, until I had honed them into delicious examples of alcoholic perfection. But what to do with all this wonderful booze? Sure, the vodkas I created were tasty on their own, but this is a blog about cocktails, not a blog about drinking straight hard liquor. Even if it's been infused with cardamom.


So here are the best of the infusions, followed by ideas for what to do with them. Feel free to use your imagination and come up with your own drinks. Or, you know, take the vodka straight. I won't tell anyone.

Celery + Bay Leaf
1.5 cups vodka
1/2 celery stalk
2 celery leaves
1 dried bay leaf

Infuse in a sealed glass jar for 2 days, shaking occasionally. Strain out the other ingredients and store the vodka in the freezer for up to a month. (Or maybe even longer. I mean, it's alcohol - doesn't it preserve itself?)

This recipe comes from the article in Martha Stewart Living that inspired all the infused-vodka madness. I've already sung its praises in a previous vodka-related post, so here I'll just say that it is delightfully savory, with just a tiny bit of spice on the finish. I will also say that it makes a pretty incredible martini.


Celery Martini
3 oz infused vodka
.75 oz dry vermouth

Shake (or stir) with ice and strain into a cocktail glass garnished with a celery stick.

Besides making recipes from the magazine, I also came up with some of my own. Such as:

Chocolate, Cinnamon + Chipotle
1.5 cups vodka
4 tablespoons cocoa nibs
1 dried chipotle pepper
2 cinnamon sticks, broken in half

Directions: see above.

So much going on here. Deep, rich, spicy, dark. Perfect for making a cocktail that looks innocent enough, but packs a little unexpected punch.


The Twisted Russian
2.5 oz infused vodka
.75 oz heavy cream
.5 oz sugar syrup

Shake (or stir) with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

And last but not least:

Vanilla, Cardamom + Cinnamon
1.5 cups vodka
1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
2 cardamom pods
3 medium-sized chips of Vietnamese cinnamon

Directions: see celery infusion.

Where do I begin? This infusion smells amazing and tastes nearly as good. You have the sweetness of the vanilla balanced against the woody, earthy flavors of the cinnamon and cardamom. Both cinnamon and cardamom, incidentally, come from Southeast Asia, and you know what else comes from Southeast Asia? Thai Basil. Conveniently, I am cultivating some in the backyard, so I decided to throw it into the mix and see what happened.


The Thai Gimlet
4 leaves Thai basil
2.5 oz infused vodka
.75 oz lime juice
.75 oz simple syrup

Add the simple syrup and basil leaves to the bottom of a shaker and muddle thoroughly. Add the vodka and lime juice, shake with ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

Verdict: very interesting mix of flavors. The Thai basil brings a nice balance to a drink that otherwise might be a bit too sweet. Drink up.

Mojito MADNESS.

Some of you may not know this, but the mojito is really the drink that started it all. One summer night, circa 2008 - four good girl friends, a little bit of peppermint, a bottle of rum, and my first-ever batch of simple syrup came together to make some very, very delicious mojitos. And probably the most fun I've ever had on a week night. I was hooked. On mojitos, and on mixing drinks.


So, recently, I decided to re-visit the mojito. And, just to shake things up a little, to make a mojito variation with every kind of clear liquor in my kitchen. But first, I needed to establish a base recipe for the mojito. Now, I can be a little bit of a stickler for the rules. Especially when it comes to cocktails. I mean, classic is best, right? So I first turned to the oldest known recipe for a mojito, from a 1929 Cuban cocktail book called, appropriately, El Libro de Cocktail, and helpfully re-printed in Food & Wine magazine's "cocktails '09". Also helpfully reprinted right here:

The Original Mojito
8 mint leaves
2 oz white rum
3/4 oz fresh lime juice
1 oz simple syrup
1/2 oz chilled club soda


I made a mojito, just as the 80-year-old recipe said. It was pretty, to be sure. I took many pictures of it. But I tasted it and I was...underwhelmed. I longed to return the the mojito that first captured my heart that summer night. So I made another mojito, according to my old recipe. I took a sip...delicious. Feels like the very first time.

"What is the secret of this fantastic mojito?" - you must surely be asking yourself. Two things: 1. turbinado simple syrup. Just like it sounds - simple syrup made with turbinado sugar, 1:1. 2. peppermint. Spearmint is pretty much the gold standard for mint in cocktails - every bar I've ever been to uses it for their mojitos, so that's what I used to make the classic mojito. But the drinks from the infamous Night of the Mojitos were made with peppermint, which imparts a stronger mint flavor. For the recipe printed below, I used half and half, and the result was lovely. Where can one find peppermint? I grow mine myself. You can tell the difference between the two varieties by the shape of the leaves, and, of course, by the way they smell.

peppermint vs. spearmint.

Nancy's very special mojito
8 mint leaves (4 spearmint, 4 peppermint)
1.5 oz rum
.75 oz fresh-squeezed lime juice
.5 oz turbinado simple syrup
1 oz soda water

Place the mint leave in the bottom of a shaker, cover with the simple syrup, and muddle. Add the lime, rum, and 5-6 ice cubes, and shake and strain into a highball glass filled with crushed ice. Top with the soda water.

I'll be damned is this is not the best mojito I've ever had.

So now that we've established a basic recipe for the mojito, it's time to get crazy. First up, the mexi-jito - a mojito made with tequila. Luke, an inventive drinker and a particular fan of tequila, gave me the idea for this one.


Mexijito
8 mint leaves (half and half)
1.5 oz silver tequila
.75 oz lime juice
.5 oz agave nectar
1 oz soda water

Verdict: Oh, it's good. The combo of tequila and mint is wonderfully smooth, and almost, just a teeny tiny bit, reminds me of chocolate. Interesting and delicious and refrescante. Definitely worth a try.

Next: A mojito with cachaça. Since cachaça and rum are so similar, substituting cachaça for rum in a mojito seems pretty logical. Plus, the caipirinha, the most famous cachaça drink out there, is essentially just a mojito without mint, right?

Brazilian Mojito
8 mint leaves (half and half)
1.5 oz cachaça
.75 oz lime juice
.5 oz turbinado simple syrup
1 oz soda water

So...I now understand why the Brazilians don't put mint in their caipirinhas. It's because cachaça and mint is...well, kinda gross. The vegetal flavors of cachaça don't play nice with the mint like rum does. I still finished the drink -but it was my least favorite of all the alterna-mojitos. Since I played it safe with this one, next I decided to try something really unusual: a mojito with poire william eau-de-vie, a brandy made from distilled pears.


The Peppermint Pear
12 mint leaves (6 peppermint, 6 spearmint)
1.5 oz poire william eau-de-vie
1 oz lime juice
.75 oz simple syrup
1 oz soda water

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that this turned out like a mojito...that tastes like pear. Actually, come to think of it, it's more like the other way around. Even with the amount of other ingredients increased, pear is the overwhelming taste sensation here, with the mint and lime as mere grace notes. I'm still not sure how I feel about that. Suffice it to say, though, that if you like pear, and you like mojitos...you will love the hell out of this. If you're not such a huge fan of pear, but you still happen to have the brandy around , try half pear brandy, half light rum.


What about...a mojito with gin? This is another Luke invention. Once, at a party, long ago, I was making mojitos when I ran out of rum. What to doooo? Luke suggested making some with gin. I remembered them being pretty good. I remembered right.

The Gin-jito
8 mint leaves (4 peppermint, 4 spearmint)
1.5 oz gin
.75 oz lime juice
.5 oz simple syrup
1 oz soda water

It's delicious and refreshing, in that very clean, juniper-y way that gin is. And lastly: an unusual combination that totally blew my mind. Alicia was the one who suggested making a mojito with mezcal - she had something like it at the Anvil once.


The Smo-jito (It's a smoky mojito. Get it?)
8 mint leaves
1.5 oz joven mezcal
.75 oz lime juice
.5 oz agave nectar
1 oz soda water

Oh. My. Gosh. Definitely my favorite of all the mojito variations. Nice strong agave flavor, delicious smoke making love to lime and mint. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but whatever it was, I must've been very good.

¡El Sangre de Fresa!

As a mixologist, I am always trying to push the limits. It's a lot harder to impress me, booze-wise, than it used to be. Lots of drinks that would've seemed wild and wonderful to me a couple of years ago are now familiar territory. Like, basil in a margarita? Child's play. But then, while browsing through one of my favorite cocktail books, I found a recipe for a drink using balsamic vinegar. Yeah, like what you dip bread in at Italian restaurants. Whoa.

I knew I had to try this.

Firstly, I love anything with balsamic vinegar, and secondly, I was having a cocktail party and wanted to impress my guests with my use of innovative, wacked-out ingredients. I could just see my friends telling their friends - "oh my gosh, I went to this party and this girl made a cocktail with balsamic vinegar and my mind was blown". This was going to be legendary. The one big hurdle was - in order to make this history-making balsamic cocktail, I first had to create a balsamic syrup, using the directions below:

Balsamic Syrup
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup water
1 1/2 cups balsamic vinegar

In a tall, straight-sided, medium pot, combine the sugar and water and heat over medium-high heat, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Brush down the sides of the pot with a wet pastry brush to remove any lingering sugar. Continue to cook the sugar and water, gently swirling the pot occasionally to distribute the heat, until the water evaporates and the sugar caramelizes and turns to an amber color.
Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, bring the balsamic vinegar to a simmer. When the caramel reaches the desired color, remove the pot from the heat and slowly add the balsamic vinegar. Take extra care when adding the vinegar, because it will bubble and pop violently when added to the caramelized sugar. Stir the mixture with a wooden spoon to dissolve any solidified caramel. Return the pot to the stove and cook over medium heat for about 5 minutes, until the mixture has thickened slightly.
Create an ice bath by filling a large bowl with ice water. Pour the syrup into a smaller bowl and then set it in the ice bath to cool, making sure the level of the melting ice is well below the level of the smaller bowl. Transfer the syrup to a small bottle with a lid and refrigerate. It will keep for up to six months or longer.

As a person who does not cook, I had the proper response to these directions, and that was: fear. Through people who actually cook I had heard of the difficulties and trials of making caramel, and I was very afraid. Only my desire for cocktail greatness could push me to attempt something so foolhardy. I wish I could say that my fears were totally unfounded, and that I created a perfect balsamic syrup on the first attempt. Only...not so much.

First try: burned the caramel.* I made the syrup anyway (because the balsamic vinegar was already simmering, and what was I gonna do?), but it was so thick it had to be scraped off the inside of the jigger when I tried to make a drink with it. Oh, and it smelled like burning.
*The only way to prevent this, I learned, is to not move from in front of the stove the entire time the caramel is cooking. In fact - don't even look away from the pot. Caramel burns fast.

Second try: used a pot that was too big.** All the water cooked off before the sugar caramelized and I ended up with...damp, slightly browned sugar. Fail.
**That part about the medium-sized pot? That's important.

Third try: Added too little balsamic vinegar (either I measured it wrong or let it simmer for too long - either way, I'm a moron) and ended up with some kind of giant, unholy balsamic caramel candy-thing. It was liquid until I put it in the ice bath, and I was so sure I had finally succeeded. Poor, disillusioned Nancy. I came back half an hour later to discover that in the ice bath, my "syrup" had congealed into a metallic brown brick at the bottom of the bowl.*** It was exactly like one of those brach's caramel candies I used to eat as a kid - except it smelled like italian food. And looked like an oil spill. (I say "smelled". I ate an octopus once - it wasn't fried or anything, and you could still see its tiny octopus head and tiny suckers on its tiny octopus arms - but I wouldn't eat this.) Giant, gooey, caramel-y fail.
***Important: pay attention to the part that says "thickened slightly". Don't worry if the syrup is still runny in the pot - it will get syrupy in the ice bath. If the syrup is syrupy in the pot - you will end up with a brick, like I did.

Yummy.

Fourth try: Finally got it right. Holy crap, this was hard.

So at long last, I was ready for:

¡El Sangre de Fresa! (that's "Strawberry Blood", for those of you who do not speakee the Spanish)
recipe from Jeff Hollinger and Rob Schwartz, of the Absinthe Brasserie & Bar in San Francisco.
2 strawberries, hulled and quartered
4 to 5 basil leaves (thank you, backyard herb garden)
1/2 oz hard-fought balsamic syrup
1 1/2 oz cachaça*
1/4 oz Cointreau**
1/4 oz fresh lime juice***
Soda water

*What is cachaça? Glad you asked.
**Or you can be cheap and use triple sec, like I did.
***Fresh!!

In a mixing glass, combine the strawberries, basil and balsamic syrup

and muddle into a pulp.

Top with ice and add the cachaça, Cointreau, and lime juice. Shake until cold, strain into an ice-filled pilsner or collins glass,

and top with soda water.

The first time I made this drink was for my cocktail party, so I made a whole pitcher, which was very brave of me. Many of my friends tasted it, which was very brave of them.

Kassie: This tastes like a salad.

Me: Drinks like a meal.

Aimee: ...interesting.

Garret: You know? I really like this.

So at the end of the night I sent Garret home with a schweppes bottle full of sangre de fresa. It's the first time I've ever made a doggie bag at a cocktail party. He seemed delighted with it.

But before you write this off as That Drink That Only Garret Liked - know that I made another. I had to, because I wanted to take purdy pictures for my blog and I hadn't gotten any in my pre-party frenzy. This time I shelled out for the Cointreau (my first bottle, and sheesh, was it expensive). Either this drink is bounds better with the Cointreau, or it just grew on me, because as I sipped Sangre de Fresa #2, I found myself thinking - you know, I might really like this. All the flavors are quite bold - the orange, lime, and strawberry catch you right away, with smoky/savory/vinegar on the finish. It's unexpected, bizarre, and - dare I say - surprisingly delicious.

Key Lime Margarita

Having a garden will teach you patience. You take care of the plants, and you watch them grow, and if you are lucky after a veeery long time they will produce something you can eat. Well, after many months of anticipation the three tiny, perfect key limes on my key lime tree finally ripened, and of course I started dreaming of cocktails.

Delicious with booze.

The first thing I thought of was a key lime martini - Steve had one once and couldn't stop talking about how great it was, and besides, it just sounded fun. So imagine my surprise when I discovered that a key lime martini contains no actual key lime juice. (Here's a compendium of three different key lime martini recipes...no key limes in sight.) 101 Margaritas to the rescue. Right there on the front cover is a lovely picture of a key lime margarita made with real key lime juice. Problem is, the original recipe called for something called McGillicuddy's vanilla schnapps, which your intrepid bartender was unable to find. So instead I substituted Navan, a vanilla liqueur made by the same folks who make Grand Marnier. It tastes divine, is very strong, and very expensive. But it's still vanilla flavored, right? And I had been looking for an excuse to buy a bottle of this stuff anyway.

So here goes:
Key Lime Margarita
1 1/2 oz tequila*
1 1/2 oz Navan vanilla liqueur
1/2 oz key lime juice (from the garden!)
1/2 oz simple syrup
splash of Midori melon liqueur (optional)**

*I prefer the gold in this recipe. Use good tequila - trust me, you will taste the difference.
**What's the Midori for? See, the difficulty here is that people expect margaritas to be green. And while the unfindable McGillicuddy's is presumably clear, Navan is brown. Adding a splash of Midori will give your margarita the appropriate color. Just don't add too much, or it will start to affect the taste.

Before you start: to give this drink a little added pizazz, rim the glass with vanilla sugar. (This isn't necessary, but it's super easy and I heartily reccomend it.) To make vanilla sugar, combine 1 teaspoon vanilla extract with 4 tablespoons of white sugar. This will make enough sugar for at least two glasses (and it will smell incredible). Then follow the instructions for coating the rim of a glass with sugar found here.


Combine the ingredients in a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake and strain into a glass. Or, stir the ingredients in a glass full of ice for thirty seconds, and let the glass sit on the counter for about a minute before straining into a glass. You want to give the ice a lot of time to melt with this one, because it is veeery boozy. Navan is 40% alcohol by volume, the same as most hard liquors, so this drink has the equivalent of two whole shots in it, about twice what you would expect. (Don't say I didn't warn you.) The water melting into the drink takes the edge of the liquor - it's what makes tequila taste like tequila and not like that burn you get when taking shots.

Not that there's anything wrong with taking shots.

Most cocktails are intended to be drunk chilled, without ice, but I give you permission to take this one on the rocks (since the ice will melt and further mellow out the drink). It's also a great candidate for a frozen drink. To make a frozen margarita, combine all the ingredients in a blender, and add a handful of ice cubes. Run the blender (you will probably need to use the highest setting), and keep adding a couple ice cubes at a time until you reach the desired consistency.

Sometimes being unemployed is really great.

Verdict: This is a most interesting drink. I keep making them to drink by the pool (in October? Only in Houston), and every time I have one I like it more and more. In fact, I am craving one right now. The margarita-ness gets you right away, whereas the vanilla slowly sneaks up on you before settling gently into your palette. I have to say I'm pretty proud of myself for making something that is 75% hard liquor taste so delicious. Drink it slowly - this will help you appreciate the vanilla more. It will also keep you from ending up on the floor.

Bottoms up.

Pink Sage

I have become the sort of person who googles things like "sage flavor pairings". Because I recently bought a sage plant, and if I can't make it into a drink it is basically useless to me. Some suggestions were: sage and plums. Interesting. Sage and rye whiskey. More interesting. But what about...sage and plums and rye whiskey? The plot thickens.

So here's what you need to know about rye whiskey: Rye whiskey (sometimes referred to simply as "rye") is kind of a big deal. It shows up in a lot of old cocktail recipes, and has recently been re-discovered by the cocktailing elite. (Apparently rye whiskey has a long and storied history - according to this guy, it was distilled by George Washington at Mount Vernon.) It tastes like whiskey but different, i.e., in rye, the spicy flavors present in the whiskey are sharper and more distinct. It practically begs to be paired with bitters, which is probably why the most famous cocktail made with Rye Whiskey, the sazerac, includes a healthy dose of Peychaud's. (Sazerac also happens to be the brand name of a kind of rye.)

Whiskey and Rye whiskey go head-to-head.

I bought my first bottle of rye whiskey a couple weeks ago and set to work on a sage-y cocktail. Here's what I came up with:

The Pink Sage
3/4 of a juicy, ripe red plum
4-5 sage leaves (thank you, backyard herb garden)
.5 oz sugar syrup
.25 oz lemon juice (make it fresh!)
2.0 oz rye whiskey (2.5 if you want the taste of the rye to come through more strongly.)

Add the plum and sage to the shaker. You will want to muddle this one rather vigorously - it may help to add the sage and half the plum, muddle, and then add the rest of the plum and then muddle again. Fill the shaker with ice and then add the remaining ingredients. Shake and strain into a cocktail glass.


Verdict: Wow. This is very, very good. The plums, sage and rye are such a natural pairing that it's hard to tell where one flavor ends and another begins. It's sweet and smooth and herbal and complicated. Adding a couple dashes of Peychaud's bitters will add an interesting, licorice-y dimension to it. (Sounds weird, but - try it.) Just don't drink it too fast. Rye whiskey is almost 50 percent alcohol. I'm gonna go sit down.

Pink Lemons!

One of my recent garden purchases (and there have been many) is a Pink Eureka Lemon tree. I never would've thought I could be super excited about a tree...but I am really excited about this thing. Eureka lemons are just the plain old variety you get at the grocery store, but the pink ones are a mutation (awesome!) that was discovered in a California citrus grove in 1931. Some people say these lemons taste subtly different from the plain, non-mutated ones - they're supposed to be fruitier (fruitier? what's fruitier than a fruit?) and more floral. Well, maybe I have an uneducated palatte, but I just tasted lemon.

The difference, and the reason I am so excited about this tree, is that pink lemons look like what normal lemons would look like if they were total badasses. Outside, the rind is yellow with green stripes, like a little tiny watermelon, and inside the flesh is a subtle peachy-pink. (Unfortunately, pink lemon juice is not pink. It just looks like normal lemon juice. Bummer, I know.)

but still. I mean...stripes!

When I first acquired my pink lemon tree, it already had two fruits on it. I felt like an accomplished gardener just for picking it up at the farmers' market. Over the next few weeks, I thought long and hard about what to do with my pink lemons - clearly I could not use them in just any old drink. It had to be something that would showcase their mutant greatness. Enter...the Lemon-Basil Margarita. (recipe from this book.)

1/2 lemon, seeded and thinly sliced into half-wheels*
2 basil leaves
1/4 oz agave nectar**
2 oz gold tequila
1 oz grand marnier (or triple sec, if you don't feel like shelling out for the grand marnier.)
crushed ice

*You don't have to use pink lemons. your drink will taste just as good (but not look quite as good) with plain old lemons.
**Debate (some of it very scientific) rages over the use of agave nectar v. simple syrup in margaritas. I prefer the agave nectar, so I substituted 1/4 oz agave nectar for the 1/2 oz simple syrup originally called for, since agave nectar is sweeter.

Okay, so I might've gotten a little carried away with the lemon. But who can blame me?

Muddle the lemon slices, basil, and simple syrup in a mixing glass. Add the tequila, grand marnier, and 1 cup crushed ice. Stir until completely mixed, and then let sit for at least a minute. (It's important when stirring cocktails to allow time for the ice to melt a little, since the that little bit of melted water in the drink mellows the burn of the booze.)

Verdict: Sweet, delicious margarita taste. Basil adds a nice twist. (But we already knew that tequila and basil play well together.) Oh - and mighty, mighty strong. You might want to wait for the ice to melt a little before you finish this one.

halfway to nirvana.

The easiest (and most delicious) pitcher drinks you will ever make.

I secretly long to be Martha Stewart. I dream of having perfect, mosquito-free garden parties where everyone drinks perfect summery drinks from mason jars and everything is recorded for posterity in dreamy, short depth of field-y photos.

This was right before the tree caught fire.

But I am not Martha Stewart, I am a normal person. I do not have hundreds of hours or thousands of dollars or a team of photographers. To make my parties awesome, I must rely on my own wit and daring, plus a few tricks I've picked up over the years. One of which is: pitcher drinks. You can mix them up the night before, pop them in the fridge, and when it's party time, impress your guests with your cocktail making skillz without having to spend the entire time in the kitchen. These are my absolute favorite - I make them for almost every party I have, and they are always a huge hit. Plus they're almost stupidly easy to make. And did I mention delicious?

Strawberry Basil Margaritas
(Okay, so of course this was inspired by the drink they serve at the Volcano, but the pitcher recipe is my own.)
12 strawberries, hulled and sliced
8 basil leaves (harvested from the back porch!)
one can frozen limeade concentrate
tequila! (I prefer the gold for this recipe.)

First, mix up the limeade. The package will say to add 4 1/3 cans of water; I usually add 3 cans of water and 1 1/3 cans of tequila. (If your friends are squeamish about drinking, or you like your margaritas less strong - well, add a bit less.) Lightly muddle the basil, or smoosh it gently with the back of a spoon - this will help the basil essence to diffuse into the drink. Add the strawberries and basil to the pitcher and stick the whole thing (covered) into the fridge overnight, or for at least four hours.

When you retrieve the pitcher everything will have turned a nice pale pink. Serve over ice, and wait for the compliments to pour in.

Blackberry Ginger Mojito

Fresh blackberries at the farmers market + explosion of mint in the backyard + ginger ale left over from last cocktail project = this. You're welcome.

Gather together:
7 fresh, delicious Texas blackberries
6 mint leaves
1.5 oz rum (or 2, but only if you really like rum)
.5 oz lime juice (make it fresh - your mojito will thank you)
.5 oz simple syrup (I use a simple syrup made with turbinado sugar in my mojitos - I like to think it gives them that little extra something.)
crushed ice
ginger ale

In a cocktail shaker, muddle (or smoosh with the back of a spoon) the blackberries and mint until they make a delicious minty-berry mush. Add a handful of ice and then pour in the simple syrup, rum and lime juice. Shake and strain into a tall glass. Fill the glass about 2/3 of the way with crushed ice and top with ginger ale. Add a straw and give it a little stir. At this point, if you're feeling fancy, you could garnish your mojito with a half wheel of lime and a sprig of mint. Or if you're feeling impatient you could just go ahead and drink it.

The verdict: Wow. That goes down easy.

Blackberry Sage Cooler

I'm always looking for new flavor pairings, so when Page got blackberry sage tea at the black walnut last saturday, I knew what I was going to try next. I figured I'd start with gin as a base, since gin, with its mix of herby/woody flavors, usually pairs well with herbs. The result? Fantastic. But don't take my word for it.

You'll need:
4 sage leaves (from the back porch!)
6 blackberries (I bought mine at the grocery store (they're from Mexico...that's sort of local, right?), but I discovered this weekend that you can also get blackberries at the farmers' market right now.)
.5 oz simple syrup
.5 oz lemon juice (fresh squezed is best (plus squeezing lemons will make your kitchen smell awesome))
1.5 oz gin
crushed ice
club soda

Muddle the sage leaves and simple syrup together in the bottom of a mixing glass. (Muddling releases the essense of the herb into the drink. In a pinch mashing the leaves with the back of a spoon will do, but I like to use a muddler, which looks like a little bitty meat tenderizer.)

Add the blackberries and muddle some more, until the berries are mostly liquid. Add 4-5 ice cubes. Add the lemon juice and gin over the ice and stir. Strain into a collins glass. Fill the glass about halfway with crushed ice and top with a bit of club soda. (More for a smoother (more dilute) drink, less if you like booze a lot.)

Pop in a straw. And enjoy.

White Peach and Basil Margarita

Here's a little history on this cocktail - I was inspired by a drink called "Peaches and Herb" from this book (which I love and totally reccomend, btw). The original drink called for peaches, sage, and brandy, but the peach and sage combo didn't really do it for me (peaches - delcious; sage - meh), so I decided to try it with peaches and basil. And substitute tequila for the brandy, since peaches and tequila are always a winning combination. I used white peaches because - that's what they had at the grocery store. So there you go. Necessity is the mother of invention?

Peaches and Basil: A good start.

For starters:
5 slices of white peach (a little more than 1/4 of the peach)
3 basil leaves (harvested from the back porch!)
splash of agave nectar (what the heck is a splash, I always want to know? here's what I do: about 1/8 of an ounce.)
splash of lemon juice
1.5 oz tequila
.5 oz triple sec

What you do:
Put the peach slices, basil leaves, and agave nectar in the mixing glass of your shaker. (I'm assuming you have a boston shaker, but a plain old shaker will work just as well.) Muddle (or smoosh with the back of a spoon) the peaches and basil until they make a nice mush. Fill the glass with ice, and then add the tequila, lemon juice and triple sec. Shake it all up. (Most people will say shake until a frost forms on the shaker, but I like to shake until the shaker is so cold I can barely hold it anymore. The ice melting into the cocktail is important because that's what smoothes out the burn of the alcohol.) Strain into a cocktail glass. Cheers.

Verdict: The color is beautiful, pale and peachy, and the flavor is kind of similiar - lovely, smooth, more subtle than you'd expect from a margarita. I'd like another.