I'm Back! With beets.

Hi everyone. It's been a while. Sometimes life happens to you, and then you don't update your blog in three years. I've been busy, making the move from Texas to New York and creating lots of great content for Apartment Therapy. But it's good to be back. Last Saturday I wandered around the farmers market, looking for something to liquify, and I had that feeling of pleasure and deep rightness that you get when returning to something that you really love.

I bypassed lots of decorative gourds and settled on some beets, because I remembered having seen a beet cocktail once in a book of seasonal drinks. And because I didn't feel like juicing a pumpkin. Juicing beets, it turns out, is quite an ordeal. The pumpkin might've been easier.

Right away, I cut into my beets and was horrified to discover that they were not bright pink on the inside, but rather pink and white striped. I began to panic, thinking I had accidentally bought radishes. A little research revealed that my beets were actually chioggia beets, an heirloom variety from Italy. Sources vary as to whether chioggia beets taste the same as other beets, or a little bit sweeter. I had nothing to compare them to, having never eaten raw beets before, and I thought they tasted like a carrot that's been rolled in dirt.

Cooked beets, of course, are much sweeter, but I couldn't help thinking that that earthy, rooty flavor would be a nice match for something else that's a little earthy and vegetal: tequila. Pair raw beet juice with tequila, lime, and ginger liqueur, and you get all the brightness of a margarita, but with a touch of dirt, like the raw, rich smell of a chilly winter hike.

Beet It*
1.5 oz beet juice**
1.5 oz tequila
3/4 Domaine de Canton ginger liqueur
3/4 oz fresh-squeezed lime juice

Combine all the ingredients in a shaker with ice - shake and strain into a glass. (If you're using homemade beet juice you'll definitely want to double strain this one to remove any lingering beet gunk.)

*After considering many puns about beets, I went for the most obvious. Have other suggestions? Leave them for me in the comments!

**A note about juicing beets: This is totally possible, even if you don't have a juicer! It's just a complete pain in the ass. First you wash the beets, and then chop them up into little cubes. Place the cubes in a blender, and add enough water to get to a consistency that's a little slushier than what you'd expect from a smoothie. Then, run this unholy mixture though a strainer, pressing with a spatula (like so) to make sure you get all the juice out. (You will have to periodically discard the spent beet gunk to make sure your strainer doesn't get clogged.) Voila: fresh beet juice! Your kitchen is now a disaster. (You could also buy beet juice from the supermarket, and that would probably be ok.)

Beer Cocktails: Redneck Mother

Ever since I first had a "beer-tail" at Beaver's Icehouse, one of my favorite places in Houston, or the world, I have longed to create one of my own. It seemed so simple, and yet so terribly difficult - I know which liquors go together, but what goes with beer?

I started with sloe gin, beloved of Anglophiles and snooty mixologists, and Lone Star, beloved of me, while floating down the river. While some friends had suggested that 'Down the River With Nancy' would be a delightful name for a cocktail, I was stuck on 'Redneck Mother', and sloe gin (which is red) and Lone Star (which is a little redneck) seemed to fit the bill. To this I added ruby red grapefruit (newly in season - buy local!) and ginger beer. I confess I was inspired in this by the Shiner brewery's summer seasonal, the Ruby Redbird, which is (was) brewed with ginger and grapefruit. So it's unsurprising that the finished product is a bit reminiscent of Shiner's summer brew - but that's not a bad thing. I could use a little remembrance of summer right now.

Redneck Mother
1 oz Rio Star ruby red grapefruit juice (fresh-squeezed!)
.75 oz sloe gin (Get the Plymoth, if you can. It's a bit hard to find, but completely worth it. If you can't hunt down the Plymoth, use a bit less, as other brands tend to be sweeter.)
Lone Star beer
Ginger beer

Add the sloe gin and grapefruit juice to the bottom of a pint glass (or mason jar). Fill the remaining portion of the jar halfway with Lone Star and top with ginger beer. Cheers.

Much Love - And a Blueberry Cocktail - To You.

Some of you might have noticed that I appear to be taking a bit of a break from backyard bartending. But worry not, because I've actually been very busy, and I have many, many ideas. This fall, I'm going to be plying my craft over at The Kitchn for another eight weeks, as well as (hopefully) getting up some reviews of NYC and DC bars, along with some original content just for the site.

In the meantime, just so you don't go thirsty, here's a lovely little cocktail from the tail end of my last stint at the Kitchn. It was originally published right before labor day as a sort of last-ditch summer cocktail, but you have my permission to fall-ify it by using a spiced rum. In fact, that sounds so delicious I might just make one right now.

Blog Love: Fudging It

Do you suck at cooking? I suck at cooking. I could make absurdly complicated cocktails all day, but when it comes to anything involving a stove (except for simple syrup, which is stupid easy), I am completely inept. That's why I'm excited about Fudging It, a new cooking blog for and by "young southern cooks making it up as we go" that's curated by my cousin Mitch's delightful wife Sara. It's full of super delicious and super accessible recipes, perfect for a cooking novice like me, or for anyone who loves food but has not yet become Julia Child.

Mosey on over there and check it out, and while you're at it, take a gander at the El Diablo cocktail, a classic cocktail made with tequila, lime juice, creme de cassis, and ginger ale that is both easy to make and easy to drink. Mmm.

Mezcal Made Good

Sometime last fall, I bought my first bottle of Mezcal. In the world of mixology, so I heard, Mezcal was the Next Big Thing. Elite bartenders all over the east and west coasts were going nuts for this stuff, even though it was supposed to be treacherously difficult to mix. (True story: I once asked one of the bartenders at the Yucatan Taco Stand, in Fort Worth, to make me a cocktail with mezcal, and he said the best way to do that would be to throw the mezcal in the trash and drink something else.) But still, I hoped to succeed where many before me had failed.


I experienced some serious intimidation pretty much as soon as I opened the bottle. I got a little whiff of tequila and a big ol' whiff of campfire. Which is quite appropriate, since mezcal is distilled from the fire-roasted heart of the agave plant. So what's the difference between tequila and mezcal? They're both made from the juice of the agave plant, but tequila (according to Mexican law) must be made from blue agave, and the hearts are steamed instead of being roasted.

Mezcal comes in a few different varieties, like tequila - the "joven" variety is unaged and has a very strong agave flavor. Other varieties include reposado, which is aged up to a year in oak barrels, anejo, which is aged between one and three years, and super anejo, which is aged more than three years. Aged mezcals, like aged tequilas, are more mellow and have a bit of an oaky flavor.

It's a misconception that mezcal is "the one with the worm" - according to wikipedia, this began as a marketing gimmick in the 1940s. (The "worm" is actually the larvae of a moth that lives on the agave. Um...ew.) These days if you see a worm in the bottle it means it's probably not very good mezcal. The wikipedia article also says this: "Despite the similar name, mezcal does not contain mescaline or other psychedelic substances". Bummer.

Taste test time! I am tasting Sombra Joven mezcal. As you see in the picture.

Smell: Like tequila. And a campfire. And, very weirdly...a whole lot like my pediatrician's office. Really. I'm at a loss. You how smells conjure up memories? When I smell mezcal, I've five, and I'm hanging out in the waiting room, and once again I'm disappointed that all those other little bastards broke all the furniture for the little people house. Because that's what being sick is all about, when you're little: playing with someone else's toys.

I can't explain it.

Taste: A little bit like tequila. But mostly like a campfire.

Before I made a good drink with mezcal, I made a whole lot of really, really bad ones. For example: tequila makes for a wonderful peach margarita, but add mezcal and you get the entirely underwhelming experience of drinking a vaguely fruit-flavored campfire. Maybe, I thought, the peach flavor was too weak. Mezcal needed a strong partner, so I turned to our friend the mango. I could taste the mango, but it mingled with the smokiness in my mouth to form a discordant symphony of nastiness.

I don't give up easily. But it's hard not to give up when your best effort is a cocktail that tastes like a tropical fruit with the disturbing aftertaste of your pediatrician's office. I thought about throwing in the towel. I could pour the rest of the mezcal down the drain, and I wouldn't have to tell anyone. I would be the only person to know what a dismal failure I was. Two things stopped me: 1. I am really stubborn, and 2. good mezcal is really expensive.


I searched the internet, hoping for inspiration, but everything I found either contained some bitter aperitif like Campari or Cynar (not really my thing), or was stupidly complicated, or was...a margarita. With mezcal in it. Which I already knew was gross, because of course I tried that. Then one day I ran across the menu of Mayahuel, a cocktail den in New York devoted entirely to tequila and mezcal. They had a cocktail made with mezcal, tequila, and pomegranate molasses. Pomegranate molasses...brilliant. It's strong, like the mango, but not too sweet. And rich enough to hold its own with all that smoke. It was a huge breakthrough. Angel choirs sang. It was as if the heavens had parted for a split second to let the light of cocktail wisdom shine down.

To my mezcal cocktail I added ginger - another strong, not-too-sweet flavor. (Plus ginger + mezcal came recommended by the great Dale Degroff. Although he also recommended the mango and we saw how that turned out.) Ginger beer, naturally, because mezcal needs something powerful. And of course, ginger beer made me think of the Moscow Mule, a totally famous classic cocktail. Okay, a moderately famous classic cocktail.


The Moscow Mule
(recipe from Ted Haigh's excellent "Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails")
juice and peels of 1/2 lime
2 oz vodka
ginger beer

Squeeze the lime into an old-fashioned glass. (This drink is supposed to be drunk in a copper mug, but I didn't have one so I had to make do.) Fill with ice, add the vodka, and top with ginger beer. Spicy and refreshing.

So at this point I was going to talk about how the Moscow Mule was my starting point, and then maybe throw in a recipe for a Mississippi Mule (even though a Mississippi Mule has gin and cassis and lemon and no ginger beer and doesn't really have anything to do with these drinks at all), and then present my mezcal cocktail, called the "Mexico Mule", and call the post something cute like "a tale of three mules". Only, as I was writing it I realized that the word "mule" has come to have certain uh, other meanings, and calling a drink the Mexico Mule might be a little tasteless. So instead I have dubbed my creation the "whoa mama", because that's what you will think when you drink it.


The Whoa Mama
1/2 oz pomegranate molasses*
1.5 oz joven mezcal
3/4 oz fresh-sqeezed lime juice
2 oz ginger beer

*You can find this at ethnic groceries or the trusty downtown Spec's. Or you can make your own, like I did. The stuff you make at home has the advantage of being A. deliciouser and B., prettier - the homemade stuff is maroon (whoop) whereas storebought pomegranate molasses is brown, which makes for a not so pretty cocktail.
**If you don't have mezcal, this is also pretty delicious with tequila. Although you'll be missing out on all that special smoke flavor.

Add all ingredients but the ginger beer to a cocktail shaker full of ice; shake and strain into a cocktail glass, then add the ginger beer. Alternatively, you can serve this drink in a highball glass over ice: add pomegranate molasses, mezcal, and lime juice to an ice-filled glass; stir for 30 seconds. Add the ginger beer and stir once more. The over-ice version will stay colder longer (obviously), but as the ice melts the smoky flavor will be less distinct.


Verdict: Sweet jumping jehosephat, this is good. All the flavors blend together perfectly. It's like a coke, but full of BOOZE and AWESOME. (Sorry, propensity for all caps is leaking over from Bachelor Blog. Plus I am SUPER EXCITED about this drink.) Smoke and ginger and pomegranate and lime...HOLY CRAP, THIS IS SO GOOD. I'm so sorry, mezcal. Forgive me for thinking that you tasted gross and like a doctor's office. This is the cocktail that you were waiting to be mixed into all along.

What the Heck is Ginger Beer?

Ginger beer is like ginger ale, but not as sweet and waaay spicier. Drunk on its own, I find all that ginger to be a bit much, but ginger beer does figure in some pretty great cocktails.

Contrary to what the name might imply, ginger beer doesn't contain any alcohol. It was once possible to buy alcoholic ginger beer, and you can still get it in England, I hear, but here in the states it hasn't been available since the mid-20th century.

Some different kinds of ginger beer. Hint: the Fentiman's is the best.

Can I substitute ginger ale for ginger beer in a cocktail recipe?
No, not really. The ginger taste will be a lot weaker.

Where can I find ginger beer?
In Houston, I get mine at Central Market. Spec's also has a bunch of different varieties (at least at the downtown location.) Outside of Houston, I'd try a liquor store or Whole Foods. They have this product, which is called "ginger brew" but hey, close enough.

Kendra, here's what to do with that pesky rum.

I am always happy to help a friend. And when I hear that a friend has copious amounts of alcohol and is unsure what to do with it...well, that's like a cocktail emergency. And I am like a cocktail superhero. With great power, as they say, comes great responsibility.

Okay, this is a bit facetious. But for reals - Kendra, sojurning in the exotic land they call Germany, found herself with a surfeit of Bacardi Gold Rum. Did I have any suggestions? Well, it has been a while since my latest rum drink, but your bartender always relishes a challenge. Kendra told me she and the hubby had been making Rum n' Cokes with the confounding rum, but they tasted like medicine. Well, propitiously, I had just acquired a copy of Imbibe magazine, the one with the article about the 25 most influential cocktails of the last century. Right there, on the first page, was the Cuba Libre. I thought a Cuba Libre was the same thing as a Rum n' Coke. Not so fast!, said Imbibe magazine. The different between a Rum n' Coke is and a Cuba Libre is that a Cuba Libre has lime juice in it - and that is a big difference indeed (went the magazine). Also propitiously, I happened to have a bottle of Bacardi Gold, bequeathed to me by a certain generous friend upon her move to St. Louis. So I pulled out the Bacardi and made myself a real Cuba Libre.
 

Cuba Libre
(with thanks to Imbibe magazine and Jonathan Phillips.)
4-5 oz Coca-Cola
2 oz Bacardi Gold Rum
juice and peels of half a lime

Squeeze the lime and then drop it into the glass. (Not sure if this is official Cuba Libre protocol, but it looked pretty in the Moscow Mule so we're going with it.) Fill the glass with ice, and add the rum and coke. Garnish with a couple of lime wedges.

Verdict: The lime definitely adds a little something. I may never be satisfied with a plain old rum n' coke ever again. (Alicia tried it (right before we went for a run, which is a great time for a cocktail), and she liked it too. I'm not sure I can trust myself anymore, since I liked the Hemingway reviver.)

But I wasn't going to stop with just a dressed-up Rum n' Coke. To prove myself a master of my craft, I needed to come up with something a little more exotic. My second attempt involved pineapple juice, rum, and ginger ale. It was terrible. It is not recorded here. It tasted, as Kendra said of the original rum n' cokes, like medicine.

My third cocktail was much better. The thought process for cocktail #3 was as follows:

1. Isn't that a bag of frozen blueberries in the freezer?
2. Wasn't there some drink with blueberries and rum on the menu at the Anvil not too long ago?
3. Lori makes those drinks, the Scarlet Jos, with mixed berries and SoCo and sweet n' sour and club soda. So we know that frozen berries + booze + sweet n' sour + fizzy = Good.
4. Brown sugar + gold rum has been a winner in the past. Let's try that.
5. Ginger is one of those things (like champagne, or lemon) that inexplicably mixes well with everything. So let's get some of that up in there (because I am unemployed and I have all the time in the world and club soda is for wussies and we're gonna go CRAZY).

With all this going on, it wasn't too long until:

The Blueberry Gin Rum-y
Thawed (or fresh) blueberries*
2 oz Bacardi Gold rum (or any old rum)
.75 oz fresh-squeezed lemon juice 1 tbsp brown sugar
Ginger ale (or Ginger beer, if you're feeling adventurous.)
crushed ice

*If you have fresh blueberries, they will work just as well as the frozen ones. The advantage of frozen blueberries is this: 1. You can get them any time of year, and 2. They are cheap. And they keep practically forever. (Maybe you are lucky enough to have some delicious Texas blueberries that you had the prescence of mind to freeze. If so, bully for you. I will have some, too, as soon as my blueberry bushes outgrow their blueberry-adolescence.) But what do you do with the frozen blueberries? Frozen blueberries are cold and hard and un-muddlable. Here is what you do: fill a glass with hot water from the tap. Place the frozen blueberries in the glass. Give the blueberries a couple minutes and then strain out the water. Ta-da! Cocktail-ready.

Cover the bottom of an old fashioned glass with the thawed blueberries. (If you're using a taller glass with a smaller bottom, make a double layer.) Add the sugar and lemon juice and muddle (or smoosh with the back of a spoon). You want to muddle enough to melt the sugar and break the skins of the blueberries. After muddling, fill the glass with crushed ice, add the rum and ginger ale, and stir.

Verdict: I did done good. It's sweet, with a little bit of spice from the ginger and a little bit of kick from the rum. Using ginger beer instead of ginger ale will make this a different drink entirely - not as sweet, with more pronounced spiciness from the ginger. It's a more complex and somewhat less accessible cocktail, so of course it's my favorite, since I like things that are complicated. But who are we kidding? They're both delicious. Do try this at home.

Peachtree Street Mule

Named for the street Scarlett O'Hara lives on in Atlanta. I might be just a little obsessed with Gone with the Wind. (Thanks Paul for the idea.)

Inspired by the bounty of delicious peaches I got at the farmers market, I decided to try more peach drinks. There's one, the Peach Donkey (I'm guessing it's called a donkey because of the habit of calling mixed drinks with vodka and ginger ale a "mule") from this book that I'd been wanting to try. The original recipe calls for peaches, vodka, ginger liqueur, and ginger beer. Ginger beer, it turns out, is like ginger ale, but with a stronger ginger flavor, and a lot harder to find. I finally hunted down some ginger beer (thank you, Central Market), mixed up the drink, and tried it. Instead of love at first sip, my feeling was one of a resounding....eh. I was bored. It needed something else. Something like...mint.

Tried it with the mint. Warm, spicy ginger, cool mint, sweet fresh peach. Perfection.


So here you go:
One ripe, juicy peach, pitted and sliced*
6 mint leaves (fortunately the mint in my garden is undergoing a sort of explosion, so I did not need to look far for this)
1.5 oz vodka
1 oz chilled ginger beer (ginger ale will do in a pinch, but you'll need to use a little bit more.)
crushed ice

*How do you spot a ripe peach? A ripe peach may have red and orange shadings on its skin, but underneath the other colors it will be a bright yellow. Ripe peaches also have a stronger peachy smell than not-so-ripe peaches. If the peach is so juicy it falls apart as you're trying to slice it that's a good sign.

Muddle the peaches and mint together in the mixing glass of a shaker. (You may want to try muddling half the peach first, and then adding the other half. A muddler will work, but a large spoon comes in handy when trying to extract as much juice as possible from the peach.) Add 5-6 ice cubes to the shaker and add the vodka. Shake it all up and strain into a collins glass. Fill the glass about 2/3 of the way with the crushed ice, and then add the ginger beer. Pop in a straw, give it a little stir, and you're done. Yum.

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.

The Pimm's Cup

Pimm's No. 1 is a liqueur from Great Britian. It's gin-based, with lots of fruit and herb flavors up in the mix, and at 25 percent alcohol it's roughly half as boozy as say, vodka or tequila. If you did not need the above explanation you are probably a snooty mixologist type, since most people I meet have never heard of this stuff. Or you're British. Pimm's No. 1 is the essential ingredient in a cocktail called the Pimm's Cup, which is to Wimbledon what the mint julep is to the Kentucky Derby.

Pimm's is also an essential ingredient in these ridiculous hats. Crazy Brits.

One night at the Black Lab, being the cocktail adventurer that I am, I ordered a Pimm's cup. It was dark brown, came in a pint glass with cucumber spear, and tasted like...well, it tasted like Pepsi. Really, guys? All that fuss about a drink that tastes like Pepsi?

So I decided to make my own. Comprised of:
2 oz. Pimm's No. 1 Liqueur
2 oz fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1 oz sugar syrup
Ginger Ale *
2 strawberries, hulled and quartered
2 cucumber slices (I got an especially twisted one from the farmers market)
2 slices green apple **
2 sprigs of mint (harvested from the back porch!)

* The Brits make their Pimm's cups with some kind of sparkling lemonade that isn't available in the states, so we have to get creative.
** I know all this fruit is starting to seem like overkill, but it's to bring out all the great fruit flavors in the Pimm's. Trust me.

Pimm's loves fruit.

Combine all the ingredients except the ginger ale in a cocktail shaker full of ice. Shake until a frost forms on the shaker. (You don't want to shake this one too long, since the idea is for the fruit flavors to be fairly subtle.) Pour the whole thing (ice and all) into a pint glass, and top with a bit of ginger ale.

The verdict: First of all, so, so pretty. Nice and tea-colored, with all that lovely fruit floating around. I didn't know whether to drink it or photograph it. (So I did both.) As for taste: refreshing, summery, a bit unexpected, like a lemonade that's all grown up. (Cucumber definitely comes through - but in a good way, I promise.) Oh, and tastes nothing at all like Pepsi. Sorry, Black Lab.