How to Drink When You're: In Southern California

Drinking is a subculture. Or rather, it's an indulgence that manages to be a different subculture in every region where it takes place. One would think that global marketing and ease of travel would render regional drinking a thing of the past, but just because it's technically possible to bring any kind of spirit to any place in the modern world doesn't mean that there's a demand for everything everywhere. Regionalism as a larger concept is still going strong (and some would argue it's more pervasive now than ever), so it's difficult to impossible to bring your drinking habits with you when you're in a different place. The things you like, the places in which you enjoy them and even the types of people you expect to meet will be missing or at least out of place. The lush's advice? Don't struggle, just go native. Better to drink like the locals than to try to haul your habit into a place where it doesn't belong. So, today we're going to learn how to drink when you're a stranger in Southern California.

SoCal is a weird place. It does this on purpose. It may not be as wantonly weird as, say, Portland, Oregon but it's damn well marinated in its own strangeness. It's hopelessly distributed, though not as the Midwest or Southwest are. Unlike a place such as Texas which is just a series of oases in a vast, intimidating nothing, Southern California is like one, very large city stuffed into a blender and pureed with the top off. Little chunks of urban-like neighborhoods pop up in places like Santa Monica, downtown Irvine and the area around UC San Diego, but the spaces between are long, winding roads of nothing and streets that terminate in the Pacific Ocean.

This setup makes for some odd bar experiences. The utter lack of urban density means that awesome, home-away-from-home bars are especially hard to find. Make no mistake, they're there, but you'll never find them without a savvy local to act as your sherpa through the strange expanse. What you will find in abundance are infinitely young, trendy night spots. These are the places that cater to SoCal's endless supply of plastic fashion dolls and the indulgences they spend most weekends funding. They are bars that name Absolut a call brand when any discerning drinker knows it belongs in the well, bars where sickly-sweet sample cups of Acai liqueur orbit the tables like doomed, oblong moons around a gas giant. Your best bet in places like these is to have a simple, standard, idiot-proof drink you can enjoy while you relax and give yourself over to the gaudy atmosphere. Think rum and coke, gin and tonic, vodka and cran, or any other "thing and thing" combination. Sure, you could get a martini, but it'll cost you your first born and come to you watery.

This isn't to say you can't drink well in SoCal, you just have to look beyond the bar scene. One thing Los Angeles County has in abundance is sharp restaurants. With the decidedly West Coast flare of frequent avocado, Mexicali infusion and a tendency toward light fare, 3-star plus restaurants in Southern California have the incentive to put a cocktail in front of you that's interesting and refreshing. Get to know the right eateries and sidle up to the bar to taste something worthwhile.

Beer drinkers have a tough time of it in SoCal, though. Really, there isn't much to speak of in terms of suds once you go west of Austin and south of San Francisco. The southernmost counties of California haven't hopped on board the microbrew express, so even if you go to a brewpub that pulls a couple dozen drafts, you're not likely to find much to write home about. You'll be up to your ears in pale-golden Mexican beer (great on a hot day, just not especially complex) and you'll probably find a bottle of one of the sharp ales that come out of the Bay area. Just don't waste your time turning over stones for a decent IPA or an already rare Trippel.

All in all, drinking in Southern California is reflective of the rest of the cultural atmosphere of the region. It's hard to find simple, honest stuff and it's easy to get lost in all things tan and blonde. But with a respect for what the place does right and a willingness to relax, you can drink it all in with a new-found love of the weirdness.

The Lush Chronicles: The First Drunk

One's first time getting drunk is a lot like one's first time having sex. With a combination of luck, education and guidance, it can be a great experience, but that's a fairly rare and sadly unlikely setup, at least in our society. The United States has an abusive relationship with alcohol. We've treated it poorly in the past and it has retaliated by mixing badly with our fat-and-carb-heavy diet and spending several post-Prohibition decades as terrible wine and even worse beer. We're getting better about it but there's still practically no discussion about lowering the drinking age here. I suppose this is because reaching 21 is a rite of passage and alcohol provides a convenient social barrier for nightclubs and music venues where people might not want to mingle with teenagers, but it's still pretty absurd that an American can legally go to war before he or she can legally drink.

Ah, but I've gotten off topic, at least a little. It's no coincidence that sex and alcohol get fairly equal treatment in America. They're both "adult" things that kids get into a lot earlier than anyone is comfortable admitting and so they're both things that do more damage to kids than they really ought to. Because both are illicit for the young, kids will go to great lengths to get them and keep them secret. And so, getting drunk for the first time, like having sex for the first time, is often more messy, confusing and painful than it needs to be.

As with sex, a young person's early drinking follies stem from a lack of education as much as a lack of experience. It's rare to find someone younger than 20 (and 20 is pushing it, too) who understands, let alone appreciates, the difference between different kinds of spirit. This invites disaster. I recall a friend in high school taking a trip to Australia where she could legally drink and deciding to have her first cocktail in the form of beer mixed with Coke. Why? Because apparently nobody told her that beer and rum are dramatically different substances.

And it's not just what you drink, but how. Personally, my first liquor foible involved an embarrassing amount of bottom-shelf gin consumed at room temperature with alternating cups of equally cheap beer. I was not a happy camper (or college student, to be more precise) for the next two days.

Now, I know the argument against educating kids about the joys of alcohol because it's the same argument levied against every other vice: If you tell them everything, it'll just make them want to do it. That's right, it will, but not any more so than telling them as little as possible and then saying that it's off limits. Teens are bored, desperate and have ridiculous amounts of free time. That's a recipe for getting things done, no matter how risky or elaborate the means. If a teen wants to drink, smoke, take drugs, have sex or do anything else adults do with impunity, they'll find a way. Better to arm them with the truth than put them through unnecessary pain to learn it for themselves.

An ideal first drunk should be mild and gentle, though it's too often not. Kids get drunk on whole bottles of Southern Comfort or cases full of Natural Light. These are things seasoned legal drinkers shouldn't do, let alone kids with virgin livers. I'm not suggesting a parent sit their son or daughter down one night for a few bourbons or vodka cranberry shooters, but I am suggesting that it's the responsible thing to teach teens about the joys of moderation, the necessity of hydration and the benefits of drinking middle shelf or higher. This is as important as impressing lessons about designated drivers and pill synergy. Or to put it another way: Would you rather your child's first time having sex be with someone who cares about them in a secure place with safe sex products, or with whoever they can find in a dangerous place and no protection other than luck? Because, in the end, that's the real choice. Not whether it happens, but how it happens, and education is the surest way to make sure things turn out well.

An Introduction to Brandy

Lately, Americans have been learning to once again embrace classic cocktails and cocktail methodology. I'd say that this isn't an isolated fad, but rather one branch of the gastro revolution that has been going on in this country for the past decade or so. The whole "foodie" thing came on the heels of celebrity chefs who introduced our couch-dwelling civilization to the beauty of truly good cuisine, which of course increased interest in wine as well. Combined with the coming-of-age of several American wine regions (Central California and the more verdant parts of Oregon, for example), America's new love of elevated tastes was excellently timed. Wine snobbery begat the microbew boom, which itself begat the very recent micro-distillery boom and the cocktail culture that goes hand in hand with it. This lasting trend of evolving American palates leads me to believe that we're in a good state to start embracing brandy as a culture. As always, appreciation starts with education. Here's what you need to know about brandy as a neophyte.

Brandy, which comes from the Dutch term brandewijn, meaning "burnt wine", is traditionally distilled grape spirit. It's one of the oldest varieties of distilled drinking alcohol in the world, existing in some form since the Roman Republic but formalized some time in the 1100's in multiple cultures around the world. By distilling wine and leaving it to age in a cask, the liquor takes on a distinct flavor profile resulting from the breakdown of certain aromatic chemicals in the grape juice, making the final product turn out more like whiskey than wine.

There are loads of brandy varieties based on everything from grape species to region to distillation method, so there's no single "brandy" flavor. There are good starting points, though.

On every bottle of brandy, you'll find a carwreck of letter that indicate age and overall quality. There's AC (aged for 2 years), VS (aged 3 years), VSOP (aged 5 years) and XO (either really good stuff or merely aged 6 years, depending on where it's from). It should be noted that brandy with the letter salad can still be blended, which means you're getting a mix of brandies from different casks and of different ages, only given one official rating. Single-cask brandies enjoy a simple vintage date like wine, while those extra-nice, crazy-expensive bottles you see once in a blue moon get the Hors d'Age label, which is the fancy, French way of saying, "This is at least 10 years old, but we don't know exactly how old, and it's really damn good".

To be honest, these distinctions don't mean much of anything outside of Cognac and Armagnac brandy because those are the only two varieties that have an official regulatory system. Brandy is versatile stuff, so it's less about what's "good" and more about what you want to do with it. A good sipping brandy may be subtler and more expensive than the average bottle, but it would also be wasted on cocktails. If you plan on mixing a Brandy Alexander or deglazing a pan for a rich brandy sauce, try not to spend more than $15 or $20 on a bottle.

As for the aforementioned Cognac and Armagnac, they are true beauties as sipping brandies. Named for their respective regions in France, Cognac and Armagnac are excellent luxury drinks. The former is distilled twice in copper pot stills while the latter is distilled once in column stills. Both are aged in barrels of local wood. The differences are subtle but not superficial. Armagnac is the result of an older, less refined process, so the resulting flavor is less clean but more complex. Cognac has a nice burn to it, though. Both benefit from being served in a wide glass at just below room temperature. This allows the full aroma to be a part of each sip and keeps the brandy from warming too much from the drinker's hand, which can result in an overly sharp nose.

There are a lot of other kinds of brandy, including flavorful fruit brandy and international pomace brandies, like the ever-more-popular Italian Grappa. Enthusiasts can spend a lifetime collecting bottles and there's enough variety on the brandy spectrum to keep things interesting for dabblers.

Chocolate Martini

Chocolate and Vodka: What could possibly be better?

I was initially more than a little doubtful about the very concept of a chocolate martini, partially because I rather like both the traditional gin and vermouth martini and the vodka martini. I thought of martinis as a savory, not a dessert. But then I tried a chocolate martini in 2008, at a hotel bar. I liked it; it was very clearly more of a dessert than a cocktail, but it was chocolate. I've since experimented with chocolate martinis and have engaged in diligent research on your behalf.

Most chocolate martinis start with a chocolate vodka base. Sometimes another flavored vodka is used, as well as a liqueur. I've written about both Three Olives Chocolate Vodka, and Godiva Chocolate Vodka; of the two, I prefer Godiva Chocolate Vodka. There's also a third chocolate vodka option—Van Gogh Dutch Chocolate Vodka, but I've yet to try it.

In addition to vodka, the liqueurs used to enhance the chocolate aspect of a chocolate martini include Crème de Cacao (note that Crème de Cacao comes in colorless and colored versions), Godiva chocolate liqueur, Cask & Cream Chocolate Temptation, or Bailey's (traditional or chocolate flavored). Garnishes include shaved white and / or dark chocolate, cocoa or chocolate syrup on the rim, Hershey's kisses, or slices of Terri's Chocolate Oranges.

As usual with vodka martinis, the vodka needs to be chilled; stash the bottle in your freezer, with a couple of glasses. A purist would want you to shake or stir the cocktail over ice before pouring the chilled mixture into your chilled martini glass. That said, the basic chocolate martini is made with two ounces of vodka, and one ounce of liqueur. Alternatives to this basic chocolate martini recipe include using one ounce of chocolate vodka, and one ounce of another flavored vodka—typically vanilla or espresso/coffee flavored vodka, but there are a number of other possibilities, including citrus or orange, or raspberry, with an ounce of whatever liqueur you prefer. Personally, I find Bailey's a little too sweet, and prefer one ounce of colorless Crème de cacao and two ounces of Godiva Chocolate Vodka.

For those who prefer a step-by-step recipe, see this page on Chocolate Martinis from the Martini Art site; there are a number of variations there. This site has step-by-step instructions for a Chocolate Martini, and variations using chocolate bars, and a variety of liqueurs, including Raspberry, Ameretto and Franjelico. Cockatail Times offers what is possibly the most elegant presentation for a Chocolate Martini. For the purist, Colleen Graham offers a classic Chocolate Martini with step-by-step instructions.

Image credit: Anna B.

Armadillo Punch

Back in December, I went to the casino for the first time for my best friend’s birthday and we had a blast. She won a little over $100 so we decided to go to Texas Roadhouse for some snacks and drinks afterward. I ordered an Armadillo Punch, and boy was it good! It was sweet and tangy, with just the right amount of kick.

If you’d like to make your own Armadillo Punch, here is a recipe that you can use. (It looks like it’s just a variation of Sex on the Beach). Mix together ¾ ounces of peach schnapps, an ounce of Malibu rum (or your favorite flavor), and a bit of grenadine, orange juice, and pineapple juice. Garnish with pineapples if you like; adding cherries on a toothpick also makes it pretty.

Some recipes also recommend an ounce of amaretto. Others call for Southern Comfort instead of the rum.

Three Olives Chocolate Vodka

It's vodka, it's chocolate--what more can we ask?

Three Olives Vodka was born in 1998. It's a United Kingdom vodka, made there from UK wheat in a distillation and filtration process that includes being distilled four times, and filtered after each distillation. It's gluten free, nut free and lactose free. And that's about all I can find out, frankly, other than that Three Olives Vodka isn't available in the U.K. in any of its seventeen or so flavors, at 80 Proof or 40% ABV.

The particular Three Olives Vodka I'm interested in is Three Olives Chocolate. It's a clear vodka; infused with chocolate flavoring after distillation, but I can't find anything at all about what flavoring is used, whether it is actually an essence derived from chocolate, or an artificial chocolate additive or some alternative to either.

My interest in Three Olives Chocolate Vodka is primarily in the context of making chocolate martinis; but I'm not putting vodka in a cocktail without tasting it first. So we stashed the bottle in the freezer, along with a shot glass for a sample. The first thing you notice is the intense chocolate aroma; it really is everything any chocolate lover loves about the scent of chocolate. That intense chooclate quality is there in the taste as well, though it's a trifle sweeter than I'd like. Unfortunately, there's a noticeable ethyl bite in the finish, an almost chemical aftertaste. It's less noticeable in a martini, but I won't be trying Three Olives Chocolate Vodka in the future. At the recommendation of a bartender friend, I have moved on to trying Godiva Chocolate Vodka. Thus far, I am very favorably impressed.

Alcohol: Not Sexy

Back when I would ie the bottle heavily, I noticed that I would get these "sexy" triggers that made drinking irresistible to me. I would think of a bottle, or a cold one and instantly become excited - almost to the point of sexual arousal.

What changed? Well - a lot of things, but the biggest thing I had to do was retrain my brain to be grossed out by booze and make the thoughts less sexy. This is easily accomplished by thinking about all of the gross effect alcohol (in excess) has on the body, such as:

Impotence (which is not sexy)

Pneumonia, Lung Collapse, and Pulmonary Infection (also, not sexy)

Balding (really not sexy)

Osteoporosis and arthritis (nobody wants the hunch back - not sexy)

You get the point, I'm sure.

So the next time you want to go grab one of those sexy drinks - think about how unsexy you will look when you're done.

How to Spot a Good Bartender

There's a lot that goes into the overall quality of a bar. A good selection of bottles, a menu of stone classics and special innovations, careful decor, music type and volume, and regular clientele are all important factors, to be sure. But the hands behind the bar are what really determine if a particular watering hole is worth repeat visits. A deft mixologist can elevate a dive to a hidden gem and make a fancy retreat earn its high prices. The truth is that, in any given city, there are maybe a handful of great bartenders, if that. It's sad to think that there are decent-sized cities sorely lacking in true liquor artists, but them's the breaks. If you're lucky enough to live in a town with one of the elite, here's how to spot him or her.

While personality goes a long way to establishing a great bartender, the work is where it really counts. Before getting friendly or putting your trust in a bartender, evaluate him or her with a test drink. A good test drink is a cocktail that requires a little bit of uncommon knowledge without being too obscure, the kind of drink a liquor enthusiast would definitely know but the average beer-puller won't. A test drink shouldn't be too complex, either. You're not just using it to discern your bartender's knowledge, you're also using it as a chance to test care and execution. Something with subtle flavors like the Vesper or nuances of proportion like the Old Fashioned are perfect test drinks. They'll force your bartender to make important decisions about what particular brands to use, what techniques to employ and how to present the final product. There'll be no doubt in the flavor of your test drink. Even if it's not the way you make it at home, if it has something intriguing and pleasant about it, you know you're in capable hands.

When it comes to the particulars beyond simple ability, there's no one-type-fits-all kind of bartender. Personally, I prefer my keeps to be clean and exacting in their approach. Nothing pushes me away from a bartender like watching a sloppy pour or seeing a drink sit in the shaker unattended and thus diluting. That said, the kinds of drinks I tend to order definitely suffer from a fast and loose approach. You may prefer speed over precision or a keen memory for your "usual", so pay attention to your bartender's style while he or she is serving other patrons. And if you can't watch your bartender work, you're at the wrong bar to begin with.

Still, all of the above is just a prelude. The difference between a great bartender and one who is merely good is that, in addition to skill and personality, he or she can introduce you to new things. A truly trustworthy keep is one who can build you something according to your mood upon request. If you can ask for something warm and comforting, then see a special-recipe Hot Toddy with unusual but welcome ingredients like apple brandy and peach bitters, you've got yourself a real friend behind the bar. This is the same kind of bartender who notifies you of new, interesting bottles in stock, is happy to open your eyes to an unusual aperitif and is quick to offer variations on a drink just in case you've got a taste for something different.

Once you've found your great bartender, send that care right back by being an ideal patron. Tip generously, don't monopolize his or her time, don't drink too much on his or her shift and bring your friends along. A top-tier bartender, like any true artist, deserves to be nurtured.

The Lush Chronicles: Travel Drinking

It's 5:00 AM. It's either too damn early or too damn late, depending on whether you even bothered going to bed. This is an hour for energetic young people or downtrodden folks with terrible jobs who have to be up this early. But you, you're only up because you have to catch a plane. Chemicals will help you get through the day and they'll probably all be legal, but that doesn't change the fact that going through travel clean no longer seems plausible.

So, you fill your veins with caffeine to stay awake and it keeps you alert through the esoteric absurdities of air travel. Through some bureaucratic magic you get your boarding pass and scramble through security feeling the exposure and general wrongness of having your shoes off in public. You sweat into your shirt and you feel suspicious just by merit of x-ray machines and metal detectors. You rush not because you're in a hurry but because there are people behind you. When it's all said and done, there's still an hour to kill before you even board.

And so, the terminal bar waits. It waits with overpriced beer, call brand liquor you never drink at home and news programs you never watch. It's one beer or one scotch or something else warm and the false feeling of erudite adulthood that comes with field reports from Afghanistan and a newsstand copy of Esquire you pretend you find interesting. But it's all just there to make your eyelids heavy and get you buzzed enough to not be bored and restless in your coach seat.

Sly bastards, those airlines. They know if you're willing to sip liquor at 10:00 AM then you're willing to pay through the nose for a pitiful ounce of whiskey mid-flight when the buzz starts to wear off. You take trips to the bathroom to break up the monotony and because you'd rather not dilate the flight time any more than necessary by being uncomfortable. When that cart comes rolling down you tell yourself you'll just get some cran-apple. Who are you kidding? You're living in the age of discount tickets bought two months in advance on the Internet. Of course you'll spring for another jacked-up Jack-and-Coke.

Those hotel bars, they're a different story, though. They're not about changing time and mere survival. They're not about being more old-fashioned than the Xanax crowd. Hotel bars are places for escaping to, for a man and his brother to act the ass because they're not from here, for getting comfortable by chemicals around strangers because they sleep one foot from your head through a thin wall.

Or maybe your travel's better than that and the hotel bar isn't your place. Maybe your place is champagne in an ice bucket in your own suite. Maybe you've got something to celebrate, or maybe just to share. People drink at weddings and funerals. No matter the occasion, the poison tastes different than it does at home. The swimming pool chlorine in the air, or the foreign bedsheets, or the unusual view out your window. The whole world is different when traveling, so why should the booze be the exception?

What's old is in again: Egg White Cocktails

 

          

           The Pisco Sour at Oddfellows in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood is a beautiful drink. It’s a light, milky yellow color with red Peychaud bitter cutting through the frothy foam top and dribbling in little droplets to the bottom of the glass.  It tastes delicious, too—it’s light and effervescent and tastes just a bit like a milkshake, a bit like eggnog.

            Which is no surprise. A main ingredient is egg whites. 

I couldn’t believe that I was ordering a cocktail made with a raw egg, but it looked so good when the waiter brought it to a nearby table.  I thought the only time anyone consumed a raw egg was in large quantities—like body builders on steroids or long distance runners—or people with a death wish, hoping for salmonella poisoning. I was wrong, though, and now I can’t get egg white cocktails out of my head. 

Cocktails with egg whites—fizzes, flips and pickups—fell out of fashion in the 1940’s.  Now, as nostalgia is in again, especially here in Seattle, egg white cocktails have come back into style along with handlebar mustaches and bowler hats. They are served at most restaurants that want to create old school replicas of Prohibition-era hangouts.  In Seattle, some prime examples are Oddfellows, Tavern Law, the Knee-High Stocking company.  Last night, I also had another stellar egg white cocktail made with whiskey at the bar at Hunger in Fremont.

There’s nothing old-fashioned tasting about this cocktail. Although some bars use “sour mixes,” the egg white is the original and preferable alternative. Today, bartenders infuse the egg with fruit syrups and add herbs or bitters to the top of their cocktails to make something that uses an old-fashioned idea, but makes the cocktails uniquely modern at the same time.

Although the FDA recommends not handling or eating raw eggs, consumers of egg white cocktails are at very little risk for salmonella poisoning. Plenty of popular dishes used to include raw egg, including meringue, hollandaise sauce, Caesar salad and mousse. The FDA states that only 1 in every 20,000 eggs had salmonella bacteria—compare that to the risk of being struck by drowning which is 1 in 1000. Also, liquors mixed with raw eggs that contain 80-90-or 100 proof alcohol also probably will kill off any festering bacteria. For those planning on using egg whites in their cocktails, most bartenders recommend organic eggs. 

Still, for those leery of raw eggs in their alcohol, there are other alternatives that produce similar effects.  Pasteurized egg whites come in small cartons and are available at most supermarkets. They require proper refrigeration and still have the potential to be used as salmonella cultures.

Another risk-free alternative is powdered egg whites.  They are inexpensive, pasteurized and are easy to store.  Egg white producers guarantee that their egg whites are salmonella-free. To use powdered egg whites in cocktails, mix two teaspoons of powder and one ounce of water to create the equivalent of one egg white. Powdered egg white can also be added directly to the drink, but the ratio between liquid and egg white must be the same as in the formula described. Never mix alcohol and powdered egg white together—it produces a hard, plastic-like substance. 

Clover Club Cocktail, from The Standard Cocktail Guide by Crosby Gaige,1944.

Ice
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 1/2 ounces gin                                                                                                                               1/2 ounce grenadine (4 dashes)
Juice of 1/2 medium lemon (1 to 2 tablespoons)
1 large raw egg white

Fill a glass two-thirds full with ice. Add the gin, grenadine, lemon juice and raw egg white. Shake to form a good froth. Strain into a martini glass.

Sources and further reading:  

http://www.artofdrink.com/ingredients/misc/egg/egg-whites-and-cocktails/

http://www.tablematters.com/index.php/bottle-sections/bz/bz3

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