Five to nine

"I like to have a Martini...

2005-07-14T01:16:00.000-07:00

...two at the very most."
After three I'm overreacting.
After four I would have been toast.
(With all apologies to dorothy parker)

But then again, Maybe I didn't overreact. Maybe there's a subtle difference between overreacting, and merely reacting poorly. I will let you be the judge of me, oh gentle reader.
If you were sitting in a small lounge after your friends live set of music was over, trying to make polite small talk with a table full of pretty accountants (yes, accountants and yes, dead sexy) when one of them thinks it'd be cute to pinch your ear and run her fingers through your hair, what would you do? Make a joke about it to hide your discomfort and move just a little further away? Cause that's what I did. What if it happened twice? eep! What if the pretty stranger then grabbed you by the shoulder and started undoing the buttons of your shirt? All this before she introduces herself? At a place that wasn't even "that kind of place". Was I wrong to get up off the table, and sit at the bar and explain to my friend with just a look that his girlfriend's colleagues were creeping me out? I later let him know in no uncertain terms that kind of behavior is unacceptable only to be told to not be such a pussy and to take my gentle raping with a smile next time.
Am I wrong to think that kind of behavior is unacceptable? Would you feel the same way if the genders were reversed, and it was a guy trying to rip off a strange woman's blouse with no more license than "she knows one of my co-workers"?
I didn't think so.
On a more pleasant note, the martinis at "room 5" were excellent, and big enough to tranquilize a horse. Just make sure you stop at two, so that if something upsetting happens you're not at a loss for words.

The thing about melted ice is...

2005-06-21T08:30:00.000-07:00

...it can make your drink look discarded. I suppose the Europeans could have the right idea, they eschew ice, preferring to devote more attention to refrigerating their drinks. But like the one chick said in that movie, It's not just about making your drink cold. It's about the texture, the way those cubes of Ice feel when they press against your very sensitive lips every time you take a sip. Also why I avoid straws.

But I digress. My original point was that sometimes drinks that look discarded are taken away by eager bus staff. To avoid this problem the universal symbol for "I'm still drinking this" is a cocktail napkin over the top. Or a promotional coaster. Most bars have plenty of both.

It also occurs to me ladies, that if someone could have bussed away your drink without you noticing it, someone different could just as easily slipped Rohypnol or GHB into the same drink. so mind who you're drinking with!

It's windy out, but so very nice.

2005-06-20T08:32:00.000-07:00

The best things about Summertime can mostly be found at garden parties with a patio bar. Or any parties with an outdoor bar. Sunshine and BBQ, mimosas and girls in bright sun-dresses, cold lowballs and beer. And to protect their hands from condensation, guests drinking cold drinks will take a cocktail napkin from the bar. But in the spring and summertime, it is often windy outside, so to keep your napkins from flying away from your friends, take a cloth napkin, fold it in half, then in half again the long way, and wrap it around your napkins. There. the weight of the napkins themselves will help to keep them from blowing over. Now, go have a garden party!

Mimosa

3 oz. Champagne
3 oz. fresh, chilled orange juice

Into a chilled, stemmed goblet or flute, pour orange juice first then champagne. Drink quickly and whimsically.

Hiatuses suck

2005-06-15T10:36:00.000-07:00

And I apologize for the light blogging. For a long time, I was not working, and I blame only myself. And Ozzy. Mostly Ozzy. I work for new people now, and I am much happier, and I hope it leads to better stories. To the people at Starlight catering, I thank you for your faithful employment, and I thank you even more for giving me a reason to go out with a bang. My last weekend there was a blast! I worked friday and all day saturday and sunday I was scheduled to work all day and all night. And faithfully and exhausted, I reported for duty. I have to help them doctor the documents because if I claim that I worked more than 8 hours the same day, by California labor laws, they'd have to pay me overtime, and as a loyal employee, I was more than happy to oblige for a long time. Who the hell is the government to tell me I am not allowed to sell myself short?

The party was moving out of the hors d'oeuvres room and into the dinner room, It is our job to clean up ASAP. Our gifted captain Ozzy chose this time, when all the dirty dishes were coming into the kitchen to send the boys in the scullery on break. As a result of this insightful planning, the dishes quickly piled up higher than the bartenders and servers could stack them. The remains were falling on the floor, and it soon became very slippery. When I came in with a big tray full of tall wobbly champagne flutes and slipped, one of them came crashing down. When you break one dish, nobody thinks anything of it. I got a broom and tidied up. Someone with more seniority scolded ozzy for allowing a hazard to be created in the kitchen. He responded by bringing in the dishwashers back from break. Good Job you old communist! so the next time I came back with a tray full of wobbling champagne flutes the kitchen was just as messy but with twice as many people inside trying to scurry to get their job done. well done. So it seemed not at all unexpected when (wouldn't you know it) someone bumped into me and I dropped yet another flute. And then Ozzy unloaded on me for being so clumsy. I agreed wholeheartedly. "I am obviously costing you more money than I am worth tonight." I took my pen, took my things signed out, and without a word of goodbye to the colleagues and friends I had been cultivating for two years, left Starlight catering forever. It felt good to be that impulsive.

About Ozzy, Once when working at the beverly hills super-mansion of one of our nations premiere real estate moguls, I overheard ozzy in conversation saying something to the effect of (and imagine some vaguely eastern european accent) "We could solve all the hungry people in the world if everyone who was a very rich person gave just one million dollars, which to them is nothing. That could buy all the food poor people need." I never thought much of him as an intellect, but this was the first time I understood just how stupid this man was.His socialist wealth re-distribution ideals however always take a back-seat when he is given a tip for the staff at the end of the night. Don't tell the Jew-Parishoners at Valley Beth Shalom this, but whenever he is given a tip for the staff, it goes straight into his pocket. I don't know if you believe in heaven, or in God, but you can believe that man is going to hell. I had sorta told him off a couple of times before, once when he was bugging me as I set up the bar I just snapped "I KNOW WHAT I'M SUPPOSED TO BE DOING." And once on the road of L.A., the great equalizer, I cut him off bad. What could he do? I'm not on the clock, here we're just all motorists. I owe him a good deal of thanks though, because he gave me a chance to tell him off one last time.

After I stormed out, I guess I started a little avalanche because their scheduling guy quit, as did much of their part-time staff. A couple months later, the scheduling guy (Mike Siegel, look for him in an episode of Joan of Arcadia) gave me more and better work in much friendlier modular bars and I was content. Starlight however was having a terrible time staffing. SO bad, they have to go to staffing companies to fill in the blanks left by their ever decreasing in-house people (which cuts deep into the bottom line. The mark-up on the wages of in house staff is close to 100%, on private contractors it's close to nil). And in june it got bad. So bad, that I'd heard Ozzy was calling many of his erstwhile staff begging them to come back. I didn't believe it until I got the call myself.
"Hello Eric, this is Ozzy"
"Hello Ozzy, what can I do for you."
"We are wondering why we haven't herd from you in a while now"
"Well, I work for Michael now and I'm pretty set here"
"It wasn't Michael who gave you the job, It was starlight and you have to come back"
"I was under the impression that it would violate business ethics to work for both, so I work here now" (this is me trying to be diplomatic)
"Bur Eric, we gave you the job and it is wrong of you to leave to work for someone else"
(can you hear the last bit of patience and diplomacy leaving my body in one fell swoop? the implications that I owe you a favor because you gave me work once upon a time is Uncapitalist, Unamerican and violates everything I think I believe about how work works, and I thank you ozzy for allowing me to truly test my beliefs)
slightly louder now "Let me be clear, I like my new job, and I owe you nothing, this is an open market, and I have a better job that pays a little more with a much better captain than you. You guys can't compete and that's all there is to it!"
"So, that is the way it is then?"
"That's all. Good luck finding more people"
"click"
It felt so good, I had to pour myself a drink afterwards.

Tanner's

2005-04-02T02:51:00.000-08:00

On wednesday night they have Boogamania. Booga-burgers is what they call the hamburgers there at tanners. Burgers are 2 X $6 or one for three-fity. It is a great deal. Like any bar that serves Mexicans, they will put tomato and lime juice in your beer upon request. While this may cause an immediate and unfavorable gut reaction in most of the beer faithful, it's just one of those things that works. Like tequila and grapefruit, like bourbon and peach, you just gotta take it on faith until you can try it yourself.
Funny thing about tanners, it's outta the way. totally out of the way. It is in wichita, kansas: population, 0.35 million. My grandfather has six sisters, five of them still with us, four of them live in wichita, three of them have raised their families there. It made sense that my darling sister was going to spend her spring break there, and it made sense to surprise her by doing the same.
My sister was very glad to see me, (and I her) my aunts were happy to spoil me, and wichita, Kansas is a lot like you'd expect. In fact, there was only one very nice surprise (though a lot of nice things) about wichita, and that was remembering how good an old favorite , like a prepared beer, like cheap burgers with the uncles can be.

Cerveza preparada

Clamato
Beer
lime
salt

In a salt rimmed pint glass, pour ~2.5 oz tomato juice, the juice of half a lime, and beer. Pour the beer from higher above the glass than is your custom, so that the beer and juice may mix well.

A quiz

2005-03-16T16:58:00.000-08:00

Bacardi 151

Congratulations! You're 158 proof, with specific scores in beer (100) , wine (116), and liquor (130).

All right. No more messing around. Your knowledge of alcohol is so high that you have drinking and getting plastered down to a science. Sure, you could get wasted drinking beer, but who needs all those trips to the bathroom? You head straight for the bar and pick up that which is most efficient.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender
:

You scored higher than 93%
on proof

You scored higher than 94%
on beer index

You scored higher than 98%
on wine index

You scored higher than 99%
on liquor index

Link: The Alcohol Knowledge Test written by hoppersplit on Ok Cupid

I beat George the bouncer, and he's a drunk! Not me. I'm artistic, I'm scientific.

Love is in the Air

2005-02-04T10:10:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the flowers are blooming. I have noticed as an observer that during this time of year, boys are especially interested in strange girls and these same strange girls are especially interested in flirting back. If you live on the east coast and still have 6 more months until the nice weather, then I apologize, but Saint Valentines day is coming up, so this post might be helpful to you anyways.

Game and skills are all well and good, but if you want to get a strange girl to like you the best, then you're not gonna do it by re-inventing the wheel. You're gonna need to make yer girlie feel special, feel girlie, and you're gonna need booze. Fortunately if you shake the right cocktail, you can kill two birds with one stone. The following is a collection of drinks that looks girlie and taste good. Just like your springtime should. Just like your date should.

Sex on the Beach

1.5 oz of Vodka
1.5 oz Peach schnapps
2.5 oz Orange juice
2.5 oz Cranberry juice
Plenty of ice

In a highball glass (12 oz) filled with ice, pour the vodka and schnapps and stir. well. Pour some of the OJ and Cranberry juice and stir again. a little more ice, and pour the remaining juice without stirring. the colors will diffuse into each other in a sexy dance of orange and purple. Follow it up with your own suggestive dance. If she seems startled at having her hips led around by her slender waist, just tell her the barkeep made you do it.

Tequila Sunrise

1.5-2.0 oz. Tequila
6 oz OJ
Splash of grenadine
plenty of ice

pour tequila and juice over ice (again in a highball glass) and stir. Tilt the glass and run the grenadine down the side. It will sink to the bottom and look like a sunrise. The drink will then gladly lend itself to any amount of innuendo and double entendre that your girl will tolerate. Only slightly less suggestive and only slightly more alcoholic is the Tequila sunset, prepared the same except at the end, instead of sinking grenadine, you should float some berry brandy.

Pink Gin and Tonic

You know how to make a gin and tonic. Girls love'em. Splash a little bit o' Campari to add colour and flavour. For a real visceral experience, mix this Highball over a blacklight.

For those of you lucky gentlemen seeking the attention of luscious louches, i will return soon with cocktail recipes.

Drinking and driving.

2005-01-26T10:33:00.000-08:00

I have a passion for both those things separately. But they most certainly do not mix well, even in blog form. So I will use this post to direct you to a new project. A collaborative blog about the road, it's rules and the things that travel on them.

Paved with good intentions.

Five to one and one to Nine

2005-01-18T00:30:00.000-08:00

The afterhours service industry includes as an important part foodservice. Especially in bigger cities when there's enough people around late night to merit keeping a restaurant open 24 hours. In L.A. one of these establishments is "el taurino" restaurant. Taurino means Taurine, or bull-related, and is associated with the bull-sports upon which I have reflected before. The inside looks like the walls of my own room on steroids. Wall to wall memorabilia of bulls spanning three continents and four decades. It is one of the busiest restaurants in L.A. Of course, it is owned and operated by Mexicans, and to a lesser extent central americans. There's a cultural aspect of latin americans which Americans would consider retro or passe, which is a sincere gratitude for work. Grateful to be employed and employers grateful for loyal employees. In a country with relatively low unemployment rates for the past 7 decades, we have come to take work for granted. Not these people, they are loyal and well rewarded. The jobs are all full-time, and there's 3 shifts, the first being the one with most seniority. Everyone with a day job here started at the graveyard and moved on up with years of skilled service. To thank them for a job well done, a party was had by the owner for all his fulltimers AND their families. Think of it as the standard office party with Bone-in racks of rib-eye and salmon pastries. I was hired to tend the dry bar (there were after all, tons of children, all of which by the way, received a gift from the owner) and generally help with the catering of the affair.
At first, it was a little weird, serving people in an establishment where every single one of your guests knows your surrounding work-space better than you do, but they were all very nice and very gracious and appreciative. This made my job for the night a breeze and a joy.
I noticed a few trends among the workers here. First of all, you could tell who the first shifters were easily, they were a little older and had more expensive shoes. Some were kinda tacky, as will happen to Mexicans as they move on up a little, but in general, nice shoes.
.....
I don't know what else to say. I started this post a long time ago (dec. 22nd), and I keep reading it to figure out what I am missing. The heart? the point? the apex or climax of this now dated diatribe about mexicans who work. After all this ruminating, I am still at a loss for ending words. I think about finishing the essay, and i get performance anxiety, butterflies in my stomach and a little apprehensive. I imagine finding just the right words, and I get a sense of elation, and I start looking forward to the moment it actually happens. Then I remember, what this feeling is! I've had it once before. I fell in love with this gig. Absolutely in love. It represented so many of the things and Ideals which i truly value and wish I possessed. Honesty, loyalty and reciprocation, hospitality, service, bloodlust, gratitude, work, effort, reward, enterprise, upward mobility, the Mexican way, the American dream. I'll never find the right words to convey what i think or feel about this one job, in this one restaurant, now long past; as you know by now, I'm just not that good.

Simple.

2005-01-15T11:53:00.000-08:00

Simple Syrup
Over low heat, stir a cup of water and a cup of sugar until the sugar is completely dissolved. Let cool. The syrup is shelf stable and can be added to almost any drink, one spoonful at a time, to make it better.
Simple.

The trade in attention

2004-12-17T10:24:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I had the fortune of working behind a bar with a new face. Whenever working with a new colleague, I always err on the side of caution and over-direct the show. At some point he asked why i thought he needed so much direction, i explained to him that I was just being conservative. He told me that he was a career bartender, and all this was second nature to him. He was 50 and didn't look it, and had been keeping bar for thirty years now. Goddamn I said! He still had all his hair, and had it dyed jet black. He kept showing me a picture of how fat he used to be so that I'd be impressed at how much weight he'd lost, and telling me about all the broadway plays he'd been in.
My original skepticism about his talents and intentions returned near the end of the night, when he left me to take care of the (admittedly short) line of customers while he shamelessly flirted with a comely old matron who was drunk and very taken with his age and appearance. it occurred to me that he was not a career bartender, rather a career failure at something else. Despite his adequate mixing skills, he didn't understand one of the basic principles of bar-tending. We are not just here to serve your drinks. We are also (sometimes especially) here to trade that most valuable of our human commodities. Attention. While you're at the bar, you should feel like the bartender is looking at you, liking what he sees, and happy to be there lavishing you with attention, so that the one moment when i pick up the cocktail napkin, hug your glass with it and hand it to you with a smile, you may as well be the only person on earth cause no one else is getting this drink right now. And we do not go unrewarded for our efforts. Every time I get you your drink, for those 30-90 seconds it's gonna take me to prepare it, I have that feeling that for now, only I have the thing you want. These feelings add up, like good tips. Now, to chit chat with a bored partygoers at a slow or empty bar is one thing. Part o'the job, as they say. But to demand the attention of a specific customer while ignoring your bar is a severe dereliction of duty, and an abuse of whatever power is bestowed upon you by the booze.
The bar as a microcosm of human societies as a whole works real well here. Take a minute to think about what category of person you fall into, and appraise what your attention is worth.
Beautiful, charming young woman: It's worth your weight in gold. Wether you know it or not, your attention is what makes the whole world go round and round! The desire for your attention is what has motivated mankind to work and produce from day one. Like the song says, "This is a man's world, but it wouldn't be nothing, without a woman or a girl" or the much less eloquent, but no less right on the money mister dave chapelle "If a man could fuck a woman in a cardboard box, HE WOULDN"T BUY A HOUSE!"
beautiful young woman: Almost as valuable as the former, but only in the short run. And as we all know, solid investments require time to grow. Getting your attention is important, but keeping it, less so.
confiden't wealthy man Once upon a time, survival was not guaranteed to the masses, and you were at the very top of the list. the world is different now, and the womenfolk can provide for themselves, still we have evolved faster than our neandarthal pre-dispositions, and there's still a lot to be said for the lasses who want you to like them best of all.
Pretty woman How much longer can you keep it up? looking good like that? the uncertainty will lower your stock.
Wealthy woman: This is a tough one. They intimidate me personally, but that's just cause I'm not much of a man. They're more of a niche market.
Horny, uncouth bums Fuckers like that are a dime a dozen and everyone is sick and tired of meeting them. They don't inspire anyone to do anything of value, and they'd better have some good "game" (i.e. sexual trickery) if they want the attention of anyone who matters to anyone else.
Unattractive women: Sorry ladies, you know where I'm going with this one.

The thing about Australians is...

2004-12-16T08:59:00.000-08:00

they're a hard drinking people. Averaging almost eight liters of ethanol per legal adult per year, they take the title for drunkest anglophones. I guess this means that when they play drinking games, they don't fuck around. Now, anyone who's known me long enough knows that I have never been a big supporter of drinking games. First of all, I take drinking very seriously (can't you tell?) and would never attempt to reduce it to a game, and secondly, I hate the implications that I need the encouragement. But I would have never imagined that a drinking game taken too far could lead to severe internal injuries.
However, Jared brought to my attention an article about australians and a power assisted drinking game gone horribly awry.

A 21-year-old Perth man is lucky to be alive after having his stomach ripped open during a beer-skolling game using a home-made device powered by an electric pump...

It is believed to have consisted of a helmet fitted with a jug from which a hose was attached to a pump that was powered by a power drill.

Another hose from the pump was placed in his mouth and the pump was switched on, pushing beer from the jug down his throat.

The man, a mechanical drafter who did not want his name published, said yesterday that about six other party-goers had used the "jug helmet" before him...

I knew something wasn't right soon after I drank from it. I started spewing up red stuff and was in a lot of pain."...

The man underwent urgent surgery to repair a 10cm tear and was then on life support for a week

The man claims he thought the device would be little different than a funneling contraption. As a mechanical drafter he should have known the differences in power between a pint of beer slamming into your throat with about five Newtons of force in the amount of time you see fit, and a 50 or so watt drill. I'm just glad to know he ended up OK.

I would like to take this opportunity to plug two of my favorite Australians, Arthur Chrenkoff and Tim Blair. These guys are very smart, positive, optimistic, and it would do my pinko friends a world of good to see another side of an issue at least once in a while.
Lord knows academia is no longer gonna help you in that department. Just like academia didnt help our mechanically oriented friend in the "don't rip your own guts apart" department.

The thing about Martinis is,

2004-12-15T19:28:00.000-08:00

... people like the sound coming out of their mouth when they order them, a lot more than they like drinking them. I encounter this problem a lot when working behind a cocktail bar for the Jewish community. (As I have mentioned before, they wrongly call it a martini bar). First of all, there are few who order a martini to begin with. Mostly they like the lemon drops, the cosmopolitans and the sour apple cocktails. And among the few who order a proper martini, most of them sound like they're reading a line from a script. "Vodka martini, straight up with olives". I then ask thm how they like their martini, bcause they have told me nothing useful. they look confused. you can almost see the gears in their head grinding "The guy in the movies orders that all the time, and the bartender knows exactly what to do!" As you can see, i have done nothing but shake and strain drinks all night long behind this bar, this is what a drink "straight up" means. What the hell would make them think that i would start putting ice in their drink if I haven't done so all night long? Well, eventually, they will ask me what I mean when I ask them how they want it. I mean, do you like your drink sweet? Medium dry? or the dreaded "extra dry vodka martini" which really is nothing more than a cold shot of vodka ordered pompously.
Now, ordinarily, I refrain from making fun of what one would call "posers". I generally respect people's desire to present any facade they choose; and being a big phony myself, I would hate to be a hypocrite. however, on this issue, I will call out the poseurs. Not because I resent them for trying to be cool by ordering a drink in a way they think will make them look more sophisticated; but because in this case, ordering your fancy spy drink in such a way has the exact opposite of the desired effect. You see, by ordering this drink in this way, you make it immediately obvious that a) you don't really drink much and b) you're trying to make it seem like you drink more than you actually do, and by extension that you're cooler than you actually are.
My advice to you: Relax, guy. Drink something more your speed, some drink you don't have to recall from a movie. Don't worry about trying to seem cooler. Drinking, anything, will automatically make you cool*. Leave Martinis for the people who enjoy the crisp taste of neutral spirits tempered with the fragrant hug of vermouth.
And also, James Bond notwithstanding, stirring is the right thing to do to a drink of this nature. Shaking it will only "bruise" or unnecessarily water down your cocktail.
-Cheers

*drinking does not actually make you cool. It is actually way lame.

On what love is

2004-12-03T10:58:00.000-08:00

This isn't the sort of blog where I take internet quizzes and paste the HTML to let my readers know more about me, but i found one that was CREEPY accurate. I don't know how the script works, but i reloaded a few times and it gave me a couple of different answers. I will paste the code to my favorite one.


bloodsport is love
brought to you by the isLove Generator

The same input (3 simple questions) also gave hosting is love, food is love and wine is love. How did it know?
Bloodsport will be a controversial one from my friends who THINK they love animals. Not for me though. I love the beasts of the earth more than you can imagine. I love them for all they can do for me, in life, in death and SOMEtimes, in the glorious transition between the two.
Though last weekend, it was in death that they helped me express my love for others in the other manners which the quiz suggests i am prone to doing. It was my birthday recently and taking advantage of all my friends who were in town for the holiday, I threw myself a little dinner party on saturday. The menu was simple. Tablewater crackers with sun-dried tomato spread, ritz crackers with sliced boiled eggs and an olive for Hors Doevures, Cream of asparagus soup, Mashed potatoes and the main course. Now, here is where it gets weird. Some of my friends are vegetarians, so I had to make some casserole crap to fill them up. They seemed to like it well enough. Now, ordinarily I don't approve of vegetarianism. If the Good Lord gave us the cunning and physiology to be at this level of the food chain, and if our society and economy are such that the corporeal luxuries are no longer fiscal luxuries, vegetarianism borders on blasphemous and unamerican! However, being a good host comes above all, so I obliged my dear guests. They were happily fed, all of them (except for Jared who got retarded drunk before the party even started). From this side of the serving table, food and hosting really are love.
But i haven't even told you about the Roast! The gentle bovine that gave his soul so that I may feed my loved ones was a fat and tender one. I marinated it in a sweet mustard pepper sauce, roasted it for a couple of hours, and sliced it thick.
As for the wine that was love, I found a good deal on century cellars cabarnet-sauvignon. It was herbaceous, and a little heavy on the sulfites, but all in all a good deal. I had the leftover wine for breakfast on my actual birthday. It went better with the roast.

Now, some tips on throwing an old fashioned, un-catered dinner party for 12 on a budget.
soup and potatoes can be made in advance with no ill effects to flavor and consistency. Roast meats can be prepared in advance and put in the oven before your guests arrive, Plan to be ready for guests an hour before you asked them to arrive. You will be glad you did. Plan for 90 minutes of cocktails before dinner, and plan for coffee and desert 90 minutes after the start of the meal e.g. Drinks at 6, dinner at 7:30, desert at 9. Also, it helps to have a beautiful hostess to help you greet and serve. It can be done alone, but then you will only enjoy the second half of the party because you will be so busy watering and feeding. I had no such companion, but fortunately, I had some very gracious guests, a bandleader and his blushing bride who took some of the load off. (If any of you gorgeous babies want to be my next hostess, I'm single ;-) six foot four and very well mannered. Other than that, I am all vice and deceit though)
As for preparing drinks at a party, well, see absolutely any other posts on this blog.

Cheers to love

UPDATE: The love generator is totally lame! It only works because there's some LJ account I have up there that I'd totally forgotten about.

Cocktails

2004-12-02T18:22:00.000-08:00

Is the generic term for having alcoholic drinks. Unlike highballs and lowballs, cocktails are hard to make. They're strongly alcoholic and don't have any ice to hide behind. They're about 3-4 ounces, served WELL chilled, and meant to be finished quickly. Five or six effective sips at most. If the cocktail is too much bigger than that, it will warm up before you finish it, and that can lead to trouble. The average cocktail ratio is about 4 parts liquor to one part mixer, chilled and poured through a strainer to avoid the ice. Since BAC is a function of alcohol consumed and the time it was consumed in, these are especially effective and popular in timed situations (Happy hour, cocktails and Hors D'Oeuvres before dinner, etc.)
Much to my chagrin, there in modern ignorant bar society, these drinks are referred to as martinis. cocktail glasses as martini glasses. They are not martinis. Not apple martinis, not sapphire martinis, not lemon drop martinis. And certainly not martini glasses.
A Martini is a gin cocktail softened with vermouth. People nowadays don't really like gin or vermouth. Most people who have a 'Martini' will have a vodka martini much much too dry. Shaken not stirred. That looks nice, especially with the Olives. But it does not taste like a Martini. It's just cold vodka, watered down, that you paid way too much for.
Before I get ahead of myself, there's two different ways to cool a cocktail. James Bond has taken the effort to make them famous, I will make the effort to explain the difference. Shaking is fast and effective, and it tends to crack the ice in your shaker. The harder you shake, the more water is added to your drink. When your drink has no juice or sugar-water mixers, you want to avoid diluting the liquor and liqueur combinations with water. And James bond notwithstanding, Martinis, Manhattans, Margaritas, etc. should all be stirred then strained. never shaken.
Along with the already mentioned cocktails, some other favorites include manhattans, bourbon manhattans, rob roys, gimlets, parisians, cosmopolitans, and my personal favorite drink in the world,
the Aviation.
Look it up. It's obscure, but tasty without being gross, sweet without being sickly, and pretty without being ostentatious.

Lowballs

2004-11-18T09:26:00.000-08:00

Lowball is a generic term that refers to heavily alcoholic drinks with a small amount of juices, bitters or liqueurs of some sort. These are served in shallower, wider glasses in smaller portions than a highball, but still with plenty of ice. They are the good ol' boys of the drink world. They go great on hot summer evenings where a cocktail (to be discussed soon) would warm up much too quickly. Drinking a good lowball might be compared to receiving a good stern talking-to. The kind that lifts your spirits. You have a notion, you take a sip, you learn something new about your brandy or your whiskey, and then you take a moment and think about what you did.
Whiskey (of any sort) goes well with vermouth in a Manhattan on the rocks. Vodka or gin with a spoonful of Rose's sweet lime juice in a gimlet. Sweetened bourbon with some muddled mint sprigs for a julep.
The thing about lowballs is, they tend to be ordered by a more discerning, more demanding less pleasant kind of people. (People like me). The drink should be very good, but if you're unsure about your mix, err on the side of caution. Caution in this case means more Liquor. If you're still not sure, you can take the wind out of the sails of any criticism by garnishing them perfectly. A post on proper garnishment is forthcoming as soon as I can get digital pictures up here again.
Cheers to drinking well with the good ol' boys.

Highballs

2004-11-17T10:33:00.000-08:00

I would like to introduce the first of a four part series on they types of mixed drinks with the kinds of mixed drinks that most people are introduced to drinking in a mix with.
Highballs are the soda-pop of the adult entertaining world (not to be confused with the adult entertainment world, which is vulgar, and shall never be mentioned on this log. except for right then). They are designed to make people comfortable with drinking, which in turn makes them comfortable with your party. They are relatively low in alcohol concentration and high in mixer content. The basic formula for highballs is as follows. An eight ounce glass, on the tall side, filled with Ice, 1.5oz of your selected liquor, or two ounces of a liquor-liqueur combination, and filled again to the top with your desired mix. or your guests desired mix. The ice cubes should be as big as possible to prevent diluting your drink too quickly. Don't skimp on the ice, it's not a trick to give people less drink, rather it's an essential part of the flavor of the drink as a whole. This fact becomes increasingly apparent as you get nearer the end of your drink. If there wasn't enough ice, there will be a boozy-syrupyness sticking to the back of your tongue in an unpleasant manner. If the ice was too small, it will melt over-quick and your diluted drink will become less delicious as you progress.
Popular highballs include the screwdriver, which we all know, the cape codder, often referred to as a vodka cranberry, cuba libre a.k.a. rum and coke, sex on the beach, which is delicious, girly , and delicious. it does in fact deserve a careful mention; .75oz peach schnapps, .75oz vodka, and OJ and cranberry juice to the top.
There are highballs which are drunk I am sure just because people like the nomenclature. Many of those have dirty sounding names like "Sloe comfortable screw against the wall" and as I said before, shall not be discussed in a modest blog.
It's as good a way as any to begin practicing amateur home bartending, but careful. The temptation will be to mix before you have the company of your friends to make sure you did it right. It's all well and good, none of us want to serve our guests a bad drink, just don't make a habit of it.

"You're always saying you're a slave to highballs"
"but I am, potentially"
-This side of paradise

One. Two. Many.

2004-11-15T14:48:00.000-08:00

While searching the web for booze-related knowledge, sometimes I come across some excellent booze-related promotional events. Last week, the good people at Chivas were sponsoring an open bar and whiskey tasting at Pearl, a chic restaurant and bar in West Hollywood. You could sign up for the early or the late tasting on wednesday or thursday, you were allowed to enlist up to three people, but you could only sign up once. Well, I'm not great at math, but this one was easy. I signed up for wednesday, Jared signed up for thursday, we invited each other so we could drink twice. On wednesday I invited a certain friend with whom I had a bet to account for. A friend who had just recently been very upset with me. I thought rivers of whiskey together would be just the thing to smooth over the rough. He ended up canceling on the last minute, but since we were in his neighborhood, he told us to come over after the tasting. Brother Klein would be around, and there was South Park. Score. When we arrived at his house, I suddenly realized the error in not having anything to eat beforehand, but it was too late. The process of gastric dumping had begun, and I had no choice but to hang on for the ride. I was ill, and it was obvious. To make matters worse, I am told i spilled a coke and made a mess on his lovely balcony. The straw that broke the camels back. I received a message the next morning informing me that I was to consider myself persona-non-grata.
So, it was thursday afternoon i had pissed of one of the big Jews, and Jesus, can you believe it? I was going to do it all over again! Whiskey tasting number two was under Jared, and the guest this time was of his choosing.
Allow me now to elaborate on the oh-so-important details of the event. The open drinks at the bar were chivas neat, chivas and water, chivas on the rocks, chivas and ginger ale, and a surprisingly tasty chivas apple cocktail. The cocktail waitresses were very shapely, very pretty, all in black, and most importantly, came by very often to replenish our drinks. The restaurant had indoor space for people to mingle or something, and tables outside for people to enjoy fresh air or cigarettes, whichever they prefered. The tables were under propane-fueled heat lamps, to ward off that chilly night desert air, which made them just right. And the hors d'oeuvres! oh, those appetizers. They included (but were not limited to) grilled ham and cheese sandwich bites (honey-cured ham, brie cheese), fried duck dumpling, roast beef and horseradish on some bread, parmesan crackers with sharp creme cheese, grilled shrimp, spring rolls, &c. Oh, and the music selection was very good two. (they played The gift by Way out West. It's the only specific track I remember, but it's one of those random tidbits that has won a permanent place in my heart. If you believe in electro-music, I suggest you check it out.) This, my friends, is how you get people to remember your brand.
My guest missed out on all this, and it cost me dearly. Jared's guest did not. I got to meet a chill dude whose name was, I kid you not, Swap. He had a good understanding of the value of such a big ticket open bar. And after the tasting he also had a good idea of what to do next. Introduce us to the Manhattan Beach bar scene. We went to some place called Dragon which had a long line, expensive beer, and was much too loud. This was not the place for anything less than a huge rowdy group, and that, we were not. I hate standing around staring at strangers almost as much as I hate strangers. We abandoned hope and drove a little further up the beach. We found a nice quiet and empty place in which to enjoy a nightcap. We did and then really enjoyed the slow cruise home. I was glad to have met Swap.
The moral of the story is: while moderation in all things would be ideal, in a pinch a good averaging of trouble and success will do.

The thing about your first time is,

2004-11-09T08:32:00.000-08:00

sometimes it's embarrassing to remember but impossible to forget. Awkward dialogue, clumsy posturing, nervous sweat, like all things it takes much practice and experience to achieve the very romanticized effect you see in movies. But they never tell you that when they're about to get you started.
The circumstances for my first time were perfect. My best friend's older brother had just graduated from University and he and his seven closest friends (All newly minted mechanical engineers) had planned a trip to Puerto Vallarta. At the last minute there were not one but TWO dire emergencies, and the package was for eight people, so to avoid having to pay very much extra, my Best Friend and I were recruited to fill in the gaps. In the sumer of ninety five, I was thirteen years old and my best friend was fifteen. I was always a late bloomer, and he was always early. At fifteen he looked about seventeen and at 13 i looked about 11. Maybe. This along with the fact that the youngest of the engineers was 23 and the oldest 28 and I certainly had occasion to feel out of place. And there was of course, much ribbing. I wish I could say it was good natured, but much of it was in very mean spirits. And since the Mexican spanish vernacular is rife with double entendre (known in spanish as "albur") I had to watch very carefully every single thing I said and did. Somewhere between the stage a boy feels compelled to dig for treasure and before the stage where he plays with fire, he must go through a similar gauntlet to ensure that he is rightly constructed for the next phase of his life.
The package we signed up for included 4 days three nights stay, three meals a day in the hotel restaurant along with an open bar and an open snack and beverage bar at the beach. I don't need to tell you that 6 out of 8 were more concerned with the free drinks than the free food. Still, even being too young to drink it was a great way to spend $60 USD.
The second day at lunch when I started feeling the warm sunshine in my brain, when the waiter asked me what I wanted to drink, I said half-jokingly a "chi-chi", which is kinda like a pina colada, but with vodka instead. The waiter could not accomodate me, so I asked if I forwent a drink if my older buddy could have two? After I was forced to accept a delicious coke, and the waiter had gone, I received the third of many important lessons on this trip. "You shouldn't say things like that, because it's insulting the intelligence of the waiter. You're too young to get a drink, and if 'anything is going to happen' on this trip, that certainly isn't the way to go about it." (you must imagine all this in spanish)
After lunch, while all this was sinking in, I saw the ward of two babes our group had noticed during dinner walking alone with a new pet iguana (a common thing in vallarta) on a leash on his shirt. Serendipitousley, I said "your iguana is going to die kid" as kind of a joke. I was a bastard back then I guess. When he stopped dead in his tracks and turned to me, looking scared and asking why, I felt bad, and proceeded to tell the youg'un everything i knew about reptile care. Once I had gotten the attention of the women who were taking care of him, Mayito, one of the handsomer engineers stepped in and having had a snake in his own childhood, loaded junor with all the information he needed to care for the reptile the rest of its life. The women, who turned out to be the boys mother and godmother came and introduced themselves. MILF and GMILF then proceeded to pick two of the engineers out of the lineup and made dates with them. Even at 12 I was not Naive enough not to know what went on during beach dates.
The next morning we went out to breakfast and then the beach minus one of the two lucky daters last night who was still recovering. There was a change in the mood of the group. All the focus had shifted away from me and toward the people who had gotten laid the night before. And this time, the ribbing was totally good-natured. After breakfast, while on the beach, I had gotten a surge of confidence like I had never felt before. All of a sudden, when checking out the hot blondes and wondering if any among us (them) were going to go and talk to them, I said I'd bite the bullet and just marched on over there. The women were two hot blondes from Frisco it turned out, and I told them I was with a few young professionals who wanted to practice their english, but were a little embarrassed about their skills. The women were good-natured and waived them over. After it was obvious that my skills of interpretation were no longer needed, I moseyed over to where my own peer was hanging with the oldest engineer of the bunch. They asked me what was going on and I pointed to our party making gestures at the hot blondes. He thought it was hilarious, then turned to me very seriously, and asked if I wanted to share in the caballitos. Caballitos, meaning horseys, is Mexican slang for shots. The way they do it is pour the shot (in a bigger glass with a salt rim) and squeeze a half lime in there, then chase it with a back of coke. Yes Coca-Cola! My friend had already tried one.
My first drink was good. Warm nose, crisp finish and on top of that the favorite seasoning of the Mexican people for all things fresh, Salt and lime. It warmed my stomach and didn't make me gag. After just a couple of shots our heads were already spinning and we were feeling great! My dear friend and I went to our room to wait out the effects and chill while those that were no longer under the attention of the blondes went "sight-seeing".
There would always be more drinks, but this was my first. And by gaw, I earned it.

Hangover's a bitch, huh?

2004-11-03T15:50:00.000-08:00

When you started, you were imbibing very slowly, and then, as you picked up steam, and courage and confidence, it only seemed like more and more people were coming to your Party. It got easier to drink heavily, and you scolded the moderate drinkers for not caring as much as you did about the booze. You showed them what real commitment to the Party was by doing 3 shots and an ice luge, and some of them seemed to understand. But now, the party is over, it's the morning after and you feel like shit. All the wind is knocked out of your sails, and you want to vomit. You can't believe it's over. You wonder if there were any solutions or recipes you could have looked up before you got so into it. It seems the people suffering least from the hangover are the moderate drinkers. They had something else important to do the next day, and just sorta took it easy. They're gonna be fine.
The fact is, there's not a whole lot our scientists know about hangovers. Since throughout all of history, the hangovers have just been seen as just deserts for getting carried away, it hasn't occurred to a lot of doctors that how we react to a hangover might be a big factor in how we develop a tolerance and dependency on alcohol. Some unpopular theories claim that it is actually the first stage of alcohol withdrawal. More common, is a notion that it is a complicated combination of dehydration, malnourishment, and toxicity. Besides the obvious "stay away from booze" advice, there's a couple of things that can be done to head it off at the pass (the ancient Romans believed in fried canaries). Only a few have shown real statistically significant promise in the world of smart scientist people. First and foremost is the obvious, don't drink on an empty stomach. You should drink plenty of water with your booze, vitamins B, and prostaglandin inhibitors, like aspirin or ibuprofen during your party.
Failing this, the symptoms of a hangover vary greatly among the population based on a million factors of physiology, none of which I understand completely, and include Headache (the most common), sensitivity to light and sound, nausea (my least favorite), decreased cognitive functions (even after you don't feel sick), fatigue, diarrhea (eww), and in extreme cases, physical shaking.
By some -probably exaggerated- estimates, the loss to the american economy because of hangover related loss of productivity is about two grand per working adult per year. Most of this loss is, surprisingly, because of moderate, non-habitual drinkers. Drunks are more likely to be able to function close to capacity, even while hungover. So the lesson here is, if you want to avoid being counter-productive, when you start drinking, just don't ever stop.

Cheers to Life, Liberty and security of Property

2004-11-02T08:39:00.000-08:00

Tonight, at about 8pm central time (Cause the mountain and pacific time zones are all a lock right?) everyone in America will have occasion to drink. Either to celebrate, or to drown the sorrows. Cheers to four more years! Cheers to America doing better! Cheers to Hillary in 2008, Cheers to Arnold in 2008! Half of us will be celebrating, the other Half drinking to forget. Politics over pints is a classic of American (and really all civilized nations) life. Tonight, when half are happy and half are sad, I do not want to hear any whining. If I hear "I'm leaving the country cause some redneck won" or "The coward godless communists are in again, I'm going on the welfare" I will never again pour you a drink. Losing is no excuse to stop caring, and tonight half of you will. Lose that is. When the time comes to make the peace, I want the right side of the bar to look left, and the left side of the bar to look right, and all toast to four more years of working hard for what you believe. Because this is still America, and that will always be an option.
Cheers, because they are our countrymen once more.

Cheers... to the end of all curses.

2004-10-29T10:07:00.000-07:00

Wednesday night was a historic moment in Americana. Eighty six years after nineteen eighteen, and eighteen years after nineteen eighty-six, the sun, the earth and moon were in perfect alignment and it would seem that fate was sealed. When it became clear that my beloved National league was simply gonna roll over and make way for history without putting up much of a fuss, I decided to make my peace with this and just find an adequate place to welcome the moment. Mr. Sunshine and I decided to put our heads together and find an appropriate Irish bar. After very little deliberation, we settled on the oldest Irish pub in Los Angeles. We figured it would be a safe bet to house displaced Sox fans in L.A. We weren't trying to jump a bandwagon or anything, just be in a place of good spirits when the time inevitably came. We were right about the Sox thing. Though we arrived early enough to secure two adjacent seats at the bar, the joint was soon full of Bostonians, offspring of Bostonians, and their hangers-on. As we sat there, pitch after pitch, gulp after gulp (black and tan for him, Guinness for me) the feeling of inevitability grew stronger and stronger. As did the feeling of drunkenness. The only complaint I have against this fine bar was their impatience in pouring the slightly delicate Irish brew from a tap. When pouring guinness, it's important to pour half a glass and let it sit till the head rises, you are then to tilt the glass and pour the last of it down the side, so the newer beer is on the bottom therefore minimizing the size of the head, and making sure that it is thick and concentrated on the top. The procedure for making a black and tan is almost identical except the second pour is a light lager. Harp's works well. Our bartender lost his patience and poured the black and tans backwards and the Guinness in one impatient pull. The wait was a little sad, since i kept thinking that this venture out would mark the very end of Baseball for the whole year, and was punctuated only by occasional absences of my comrade to smoke a cigarette outside. During one of his leaves, I noticed a nice-looking bright redhead by the bar looking my way, not getting attention from the bartender. I scooted slightly right implicitly offering her my friends seat to facilitate getting her drink. During the small-talk, I learned this lovely girl, redheaded, fair-skinned and freckled was named Colleen, I believe Gaelic for 'girl'. Believing as I do in stereotypes, and seeing that she could not possibly have fit better into one if she tried, I jokingly asked if she was here to shed a tear for the Cards. "Ha ha, hardly. I'm mostly here to drink pints of Guinness with my friends. If the Sox win too that's awesome." What a woman I could not help thinking! Once Jared returned and she had been served, I thanked her for her company and he thanked her for keeping his seat warm, this Gossamer-Woman disappeared, and we got back to the important business of choosing a proper celebration whiskey for the end of the game. We felt adventurous and decided to try a barkeep-recommended serving of Tyrconnel; to be had from the end of the stretch to the end of the game. When the time came, the bartender served our whiskey and made sure to buy us a round before we left. I should take this moment to remark how much I appreciate a Bar having bartenders that look like they belong there. There were bartenders three, one of them graying and older all very slim, black pants, a white collared shirt and a bartenders apron.
When the inevitable inevitably came, I turned to my silver-tongued friend and asked what the appropriate toast was for this moment, which we would surely remember forever. Without hesitation, he raised his glass and said "to the end of all curses."
"Cheers"

UPDATE: You can read an infinitely more verbose account of the night at Jared's.

My peers drink beers.

2004-10-27T10:23:00.000-07:00

Brother Klein threw a party at his place last Saturday, and since I had to go there straight after work, I decided to try a social experiment. I am not an antisocial person by nature, but like a good meringue emulsion in the kitchen, mix me too fast, and I will not do well. I do best in a large group of people I already know and a few I have yet to meet. This however was not an option at said party. I would hate to go to a party and feel uncomfortable, or worse yet, drink till I feel comfortable and then do something silly. Instead I opted for remaining in my bar-keeping uniform. Stand behind the bar and volunteer to mix guests a drink. I spend a lot of time there, I have a lot of booze there, with the added authority of the uniform I have created a very effective barrier between me and the strangers. I am a part host, and the same rules and expectations do not apply to me. It worked out wonderfully at keeping my anxiety levels down, I fit into a nice role where i was comfortable. That coupled with the fact that most guests wanted a beer from the fridge rather than a highball or cocktail from the bar kept the number of strangers i had to interact with to an absolute minimum. I have lived through 21 Halloweens and not until right before this one did I stop to ponder the advantages in real life of a good mask. If you're looking for a good Halloween costume that will actually give you powers, I recommend 8 feet of oak.

Greyhound

2004-10-22T09:57:00.000-07:00

1.5 oz. vodka
grapefruit juice

Fill 8oz glass with ice, mix in vodka and grapefruit juice. You can give your glass a salt rim to make a Salty Dog
There is a slight bitterness that hides excellently the taste of your booze. This is a highball that goes down easier than most, as a result you always get a little more into you than you thought you might. Grapefruit also contains some fun chemicals knows as furanocoumarins, which prevents certain enzymes in your small intestine from properly breaking down certain chemicals. This makes your drink work harder, as a result you always get a little more out of it than you thought. With surprisingly little effort, you end up feeling happy, contented and warm on the inside.
Ichabod is a four month old greyhound pup who had a broken leg and was about to be put to death. Jason, an old friend of mine who is sweeter than a cask of spanish sherry, could not bear the thought, and rescued him. Jason is a gifted artist with a limited amount of living space. He needs to find a more suitable permanent home for this doggy. Greyhounds are an affectionate breed. No hint of bitterness. Active and sociable, adopting one of these dogs will give you a little more pleasure and satisfaction than you expected. If you live in the NYC area, and have room in your home for a long cool pup, leave me a message and I will express my gratitude by buying you a long cool drink.
Cheers Jason and Ichabod.

Prohibida la entrada...

2004-10-20T14:07:00.000-07:00

a mujeres, menores de edad y hombres uniformados.
The town in Mexico where my kinship lies, Jalpa Zacatecas, is in the state with the most expatriates to the United States. The town is very old. The catholic churches in the center are hundreds of years old. Up to about 50 years ago, the population was very widely distributed, most people lived in surrounding ranches, and the actual town had only a few hundred residents, and only about a dozen surnames that really mattered. Among them, those of my predecessors, Don Martin Sandoval, Don Froylan Sandoval, Don Simeon Sandoval. On Sundays, when the ranchers would come into town for mass and market day, they could also wet their whistles at "Bar La Jungla" or the jungle bar, owned by my great, great uncle Simeon; called the jungle bar because of the taxidermy decorating motif, you see my uncle was an avid hunter and he kept all his best trophies at his bar. His Brother, my great grandfather Martin had a herd of milk cattle, but he tended Don Simeon's bar with his free time. My uncle Simeon raised a semi-free range herd of Zebu which required less attention, so he spent most of his work time at the bar. My grandfather, though a youth, was the steward of the Governor's (Don Leobardo Reynoso) horses at the time, and with his free time backed for the bar. The funny thing is, neither my grandfather nor his father were ever drinkers. Across the street from the plaza, was the competition, a bar that was older than my uncles, in a handsome stone-masonry building.
Though the town looks much different, and has a population of about 22,000, not including a HUUUUGE expatriate contingency, both those two bars still stand. My family being liberal and progressive, willed the land evenly to daughters and sons alike, so the Jungle bar is much smaller than it once was, and next door are two boutiques run by wonderful women. Not all of the old families were as progressive as ours though. The competition that stands across the plaza is still there, still the same size, and still has much the same patronage as it did a long time ago. And in case anyone ever gets a funny idea, it still has the same sign it did half-a-hundred years ago. "No women, minors or uniformed men allowed."

Dear Moments

2004-10-18T10:54:00.000-07:00

Omar at Iraq the model writes about an e-mail advertisement (not a spam, since it was personally written by the business owner) for a restaurant called the 'Coral Beach.' It is long winded, the grasp of english is shaky, but when money talks, it translates very well. The ad is aimed at foreigners doing business in Baghdad. It begins by expressing concern for the safety of potential patrons, it discourages those who do not feel completely safe from visiting. The restaurant has a delivery service to keep potentially discouraged patrons safe in their home. It operates between 6pm and 2am, after the prohibitive temperature of the desert has chilled a little. It seats 155, and you can reserve up to 75% of the seats for a private party for your "Event or dear moment." 25% of the seats will always be available to loyal patrons. Further rewarding your loyalty, after you visit three times, you are eligible for a membership card which gets you discounted prices, as well as priority seating. It is also "the only restaurant with special dancing ground area with Bar for parties." I have never been, and already it is my second-favorite bar on earth.
Some things are not universal, and almost impossible to agree on. Sitting for dinner and drinks with people who are like you, or care about you is not one of them. You'd be surprised how well lamb and company feed the soul. Coral Beach uses this as a very good selling point.

Thought from the owner.

Hopes and Inspiration for peace !

Problems of life are not so acute , important thing is they are understood. As humans we must believe peace is not beyond reach, and we must know ,deprivation, sense of loss, these are things all of us experience in our own space .How we respond to the changes around and how it grinds us into becoming what we become, …it’s a choice yet unknown; . so let us not lose hopes since its part of some one nature, let us all feel good . we try to be in safe yes ,and believe the end of the day is never the end of the world .
The sun must rise tomorrow when there will be peace and love in the air among us.

Please Feel Good Now !

Gorgeous rhetoric with limited syntax and diction. I am unfit to respond or comment on the quote. It is not often I am at a loss for words. so i will just end with a drink that I believe is a good metaphor for this sentiment. This drink is attractive, it has a delicious 'virgin' alternative (no alcohol) which can be enjoyed by observant Muslims at your table, and the drink's name, like our clever capitalist, smacks of hope and optimism.

Tequila Sunrise

1.5oz. Tequila (optional)
Orange juice
Grenadine

In a glass of ice, pour the tequila and the OJ, tilt the glass a little, and dribble the grenadine which will sink to the bottom and make your glass look like a glorious morning, packaged.

The times, they are a'changin'

2004-10-18T01:13:00.000-07:00

"... is the new black."
Any ugly duckling who has ever slipped into her first little black cocktail dress to find a babe on the other side of the mirror, will tell you that there is no new black. Not last fall when it was navy blue, not this fall when it's grey, not next fall when it'll be plaid.
There is no substitute for the classics, but there's replacements. This is true in all walks of life, and the bar is no exception. I like some of them more than others.
"Can I get..." is the new "I'll have..." I hate this one most of all. No you most certainly can not get. If you get your drinks, then what the hell am I doing here? You may have anything you'd like.
"Martini" is the new "Cocktail" Cocktails are stiff drinks served very cold and without ice in a biggish (3-4 oz.) serving. They are meant to be finished quickly and ordered often. Martini is one thing, and one thing only; Gin with some vermouth garnished with olives (in odd numbers for good luck).
Cosmopolitan is the new Martini. There's a million ways to make it, our most decadent pop idols loved them, and they've stuck. Gentlemen are increasingly realizing there's no shame in having a cosmo in public. They're pretty stiff, and you can probably get your lady-friend there to match you drink for drink.
Sour apple martini is the new Cosmopolitan. They're sweeter, stiffer, and come in a more exciting color.
Vodka is the new Gin. Believe it or not, once upon a time the American Constitution forbade something. This made it difficult to distill complex and tasty drinks that require much attention to the subtle balance of ingredients that give it flavor. During the same time period, the number of establishments that served booze tripled. How to meet the demand? Neutral spirits! Take something like grain (or potatoes) and ferment it into alcohol plain and simple, making sure to filter out as much of the flavor as possible. But the process isn't perfect, this stuff still tasted like crap. Solution? Flavor it with juniper berries, and it's like drinking a christmas tree! Nowadays however, we have titans of industry and technology. We can take grains and distill the hell out of them, leaving not even a hint of flavor or aroma. This is good vodka. Potato vodka is rare these days, but you can still find it. The good people at glacier vodka have an exceptional product, as do the folks at Belvedere, called 'Chopin' (incidentally, it is this Chopin that is fueling my entry tonight. It's a Polish vodka, and being a rightie, I am exceptionally pleased with the Poles these days).
Rude is the new Polite. The people who used to say "you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar" never counted on their progeny's ability to manufacture vinegar. Maybe I'm exaggerating; having been raised in a strict, nearly Edwardian home, my standards for good manners may be archaic and unreasonable, but still, a smile and a 'please' will move a mountain outta your goddamn way.
These details of social interaction are always changing but I take it as a testament to the strength of our structure that the niches they fill are permanent. However, if the trend in ill-breeding continues, it may well sneak up on us and undermine our society. So everyone, take a minute to think about being polite and start practicing more. I do believe that a bar is a great place to start.
"Hello sir, may I please have a dirty vodka martini and a cosmopolitan for my lovely guest."

Cheap insurance.

2004-10-13T08:16:00.000-07:00

Some cute girl turned you down. Some sketchy dude just hit on you. The life of the party is sobering up. That blonde bitch with the belly-button ring showed up. Some fool is talking religion.
There are many reasons to leave the party. When enough of these reasons add up, the party is over.
There's some good reasons for parties to end. You run out of booze, it's late, all the girls are gone, the cops have arrived, the feds have arrived, etc. How a party comes to an end is an inextricable part of the story, and helps define the quality of said soiree.
There's also terrible reasons for a party to end. Terrible because they can be avoided. I will be happy to outline the most common so that you may avoid them.
First is the cheapest of insurances. I have seen all types of parties end prematurely due to ice shortage. From cozy little cocktail parties to quarter million dollar rites of passage, no one is immune. Ice is cheap. Calculate how much you will need and then buy (or freeze) at least twice as much! Trust me, it's easier to get someone to drink a bad drink than a warm drink.
'Mixers' tend to run out in parties with people mixing their own higballs. People who don't drink, but feel uncomfortable not drinking can go through a quart of orange juice or cranberry juice just to have something to hold. Protect your favorite louches by preparing home-made syrups to take the edge off the lowballs. Simple syrup is cheap and easy to make, and hard to drink except with a good measure of booze. To make simple syrup, simply stir equal volumes water and sugar over a low flame. Simple sweet and sour is made the same way except with half lemon juice and half water in the recipe. The following liquors go well with nothing but a lot of ice and a splash of sour. Whiskey, Scotch whiskey, vodka, gin (gin benefits from an additional splash of soda), tequila. The following liquors go well with naught but a splash of syrup. Whiskey, Bourbon whiskey, rum, vodka WITH any sweet liqueur, gin with anything citrusy.
One thing that is free to fix is the timing of your party. This should depend on the type of gathering, number of guests you expect and what it is that you're offering them. Larger more expensive parties should not start too early, that will distribute the guests arrival time too much. Smaller more intimate parties should not start too late, this leaves plenty of time for your guests to decide what they may want to do with their late evening (assuming it's a weekend). Some of the best memories (or whatever's left of them) come from a good 'springboard' party.
And finally, lame people. We all know some, heck, some of us are some. Keep them away from social events. People who begin every sentence with "I have" or "I did", people who interrupt, people who judge. Concentrate on those friends of yours worth their habit.

Enjoy your party, and please don't forget to invite me.

Lujuria. Sangre y arena.

2004-10-06T08:50:00.000-07:00

Blood and Sand

1oz. scotch whiskey
1oz Cherry-flavored brandy
1oz. Sweet Vermouth
A splash of orange juice

Shake the scotch whiskey and vermouth liqueur together and pour on ice. Splash the orange juice and finally, dribble the cherry brandy on top.
When I was six, I lived a year in Mexico with my grandparents. On the occasion of my mothers visit from Los Angeles, my family took me to my very first Bullfight. I learned some valuable lessons about empathy and bloodlust that I did not quite understand until much later. I learned a valuable lesson about excise drinks that made a lot of sense right away.
As I sat there, with my chest tight, a lump in my throat, my heart racing but eyes wide open and with a gleam, I saw a guy with a bucket full of ice and coke bottles and thought it might be nice to have one. When he charged me for it it was $500 Pesos. "But they're only $300 at the store." The guy selling them, maybe twice my age, said "Yeah, but I'm the one who brought them to the Bulls."
At the time, I did not know the words "40% markup", but I certainly understood "almost twice as much." I also noticed that my uncle Manuel (an electrical engineer) was spending thousands upon thousands on a round of "wine" for his wife and in-laws. (Mexicans have the bad colloquial habit of referring to all non-beer drinks as 'vino' but my uncle was actually buying tequila.)
I also understood that what made this Coke and that Tequila valuable was the spectacle going on in the ring. It is the greatest show on earth, and I love it. It makes me sad that misunderstandings about the sport will prevent many of my peers and compatriots from understanding me. So, in defense of the indefensible, I'd like to outline the basics of this very calculated punishment without the shrill sensationalism of the activists, or the glossing over of the apologists. This is just what happens, beginning to end.
It begins long before the show, on the Haciendas. Working vestiges of a time when Spain was in charge. They are kept in free range herds, and before the breeding season, the animals are tested and separated in "tientas." The animals are herded and then one at a time sent into a ring with one of the men who run the Hacienda. The heifers are made to chase the cape much in the way you imagine. The bullocks can not be tested the same way, since that would ruin them for an actual 'run.' They are jabbed with a small spear (of course small is a relative term, it is not big enough to inflict a wound that the animal would not recover from by the time of the 'faena' or show) by a man on horseback, and their reaction is gauged and evaluated by the hacendados. After the test, the animals are separated. Those that fail are sent the way of the beef commodities market, and those that show especially aggresive and territorial traits are kept on the ranch. The heifers are sent back to the herd and the bulls are separated into lots of six. these six animals will be together the rest of their lives. Then, many months of attention are paid to them preparing them for the Run. Everything from a good long spirited chase on horseback to separating them one at a time to help them adjust quickly to new and alarming surroundings. All this is an inexact science and some haciendas have a better reputation than others of course.
By the time the bulls are about six years old they weigh half a ton and it is solid muscle. They are transported to the fair about two days before the event and are given little food and measured water to prevent cramping. During this time the bullpen is on public display, and the fans can take a look and decide wether or not this fight will be worth the ticket. They are expensive. Plazas (i.e. bullrings) are divided into first second and third tier. Countries that allow bullfighting are usually hot and include, but may not be limited to, Mexico, Spain, France, Portugal (but they're a story to themselves), Peru, Venezuela &c. Because the run begins at about 4 in mexico and a little later in europe, the sun can be especially unpleasant, so there is a shade built over half of the ring. Seats under the shade cost more, and help separate the rabble from the polite society. The actual 'faena' or test always follows the same proper procedure.
First the participants march into the stadium in a ceremonial manner, there is pomp and circumstance and a band playing the sounds you probably associate with the spaniards.
The torero takes the 'capote' and waits for the bull. In the bullpen, the bull is stuck in the chuck with a ribbon with the trademark colors of the animals ranch of origin. After running around the ring once or twice, the bull then begins to zero in on the torero. During this first phase, the bullfighter must take advantage of the especially large size of the cape to learn everything he can about the bulls pattern of attack. Charges are like fingerprints. When the judge decides the time has come, the picadors enter the bullring. This is the first actual test of the 'game'ness of the beast. How does he respond to physical torture. The picadors (usually two) are men on horseback. The horse is armored, and they sit on opposite ends of the bullring. The men are armed with a spear. The bull is made to charge at the horse from a short distance, and as he tries to gore his target, he is speared in the shoulder no less than twice and IN NO CASE more than three times. This injury is meant to atrophy the muscles that the bull uses to throw his head up during an attack, because the last two parts of the event depend on the bull simply charging forward as close to the cape and bullfighter as he dares.
Yes this makes the fight unfair, keep one important thing in mind, this is not competitive sport in which we are to determine which side is a better match, like baseball. It's an audience that paid good money to see a spectacle, and to see how it was that the one side exploits its vast resources, like Yankees baseball.
Once the picadors have left the ring, 'Banderilleros" enter to adorn the bull with colored dowels called banderillas near as possible to the spot of the previous lancing. If you place them too far forward or back, you will be booed. This is repeated two or three times for a total of no less than six and no more than eight 'flags' on your bull. Here begins the drama of the fight. The bull, no longer able to throw his head up, is then confronted by a bullfighter with a small red cape called the muleta. The smaller size of the cape, and the intelligent nature of the bull means (generally) that every time the bull charges he is increasingly closer to the matador. The passes and technical details involved especially in this part could fill a book. And they do. When the bull has given his all, the judge signals for the end of the run. The bullfighter tries to position the bull, and penetrate him with the sword through the ribcage and ideally into the lungs or heart, ensuring a quick death. If the sword bounces of bone, or becomes stuck in connective tissue, the crowd will boo. If you repeat this mistake, the crowd will boo louder. If you repeat this mistake twice, the crowd will not forgive you and you will not be cheered in the end. But if you are clean, concise, brave and correct, you will receive some commendation. generally performances are gauged by crowd response in the sports pages. they go in the following order of accolade.
Whistles (akin to being booed)
silence.
applause.
ovation.
with enough ovation, the judge is then allowed to give the following awards
One ear
Two ears
Two ears and the tail.
to the bull (and by association his ranch of origin) he can award one of the following.
victory 'lap' of the body around the ring and...
if the bull was perfect, if the matador put on a perfect show, if it is a first tier ring, the bull can be granted a reprieve. This is most rare. Think, pitcher in a perfect game.
This is a slightly detailed account of the events. I would need to hire a poet if I wanted to write about the incomparable feeling from the stands, the lust for violence, the expectation of perfection, the agony of disappointment, the thrill of a perfect pass, and yes the inescapable sadness of knowing six gorgeous beasts shall come to an end today. We do love these creatures, and those who make their living at this feel for them a compassion, gratitude and appreciation the likes of which PETA members could never understand. Death is after all, what makes this an important event, and not just a show.
This is not a defense of what we love. If you want moral justification for exploiting beasts, go read Kant. If you want to intoxicate yourself with a wine that cannot be fermented or reproduced outside its still, visit Spain or Mexico this summer.

Cheers to Sunshine and happy hours

2004-10-01T09:02:00.000-07:00

When one is fortunate, like I am, and has only spectacular individuals as his friends, like I do, one can get very lonesome going lengths of time without seeing some of them, like I get.
But L.A. is an important city, and every once in a while, someone has business here or a reason to visit. This month it was Jared Sunshine.
Since there is no bars to be worked behind on a thursday morning, we decided to take the day for some outdoor shopping and touring of the Venice Beach boardwalk. The street from his house to Venice is Venice blvd. The boardwalk is kinda local-hippie/tourist oriented, but there's a few things you just can't get anywhere else at a better deal as an L.A. local. After the window shopping and before the finality of purchase, we decided to clear our heads with some afternoon Brews. Heads clear, we made plans to go about the unusually gloomy, overcast beach and hop a few bars. First there was the all impressive Hooters Santa Monica happy hour. At first Mr. Sunshine was slightly opposed to the cheesiness of a PG titty-bar, and I could understand. But they have al-fresco tables where you can smoke, happy hour beer and wing specials and on top of that the vidal sassoon academy right next door and all the shapely waitresses to look at, we could satisfy all our neanderthal cravings for about $12.50. It was hard to argue with that. While finishing our wings, we discussed the very first branching of Los Angeles landmark Barney's Beanery and since it was but a short walk away, we decided to finish out happy hour there. The new beanery is a long narrow style bar with mirrors and lots of t.v.'s.
LOTS. I would guess somewhere between 120 and 160, most of them small. They have a few vestiges of what made the original great. Some pool tables, some games, nothing like the West Hollywood flagship. But the menu is the same as is the impressive beer collection. Anything domestic on tap $11 for the pitcher.
There was a time when I took extended periods of Heavy drinking with Jared for granted. I could pick at his smart brain for hours, indulge in his hedonist humanism, argue forever. Taking things for granted is nice, because when sometime in the future you revisit the nice things you doggedly did once, you'll be reminded how good your life used to be and how much you have to look forward to appreciating that you take for granted today.
There's something peaceful about sitting in a train next to a window facing backwards. Looking back at all the things you just missed is hypnotic. Sometimes I wonder if all the bar seats in the dining car face that way.

Euphemisms

2004-09-23T01:59:00.000-07:00

The important ingredient in booze is ethanol, or ethyl alcohol. It is a "light" molecule that is perfectly soluble in water. It's like being on the guest list to the cell party. It can get in without waiting in digestion line. Most of it is absorbed in the small intestine. How quickly you get drunk depends on many factors, but the most influential is how quickly your stomach empties into your small intestine. Once it slips through the membranes, it begins depression of your central nervous system, and your mind and body can begin to lag as your spirit begins to soar. It will dull your senses, including that oh so inconvenient gag reflex. Some will use this time to fill the stomach with a new load of booze, because that's when it is easiest. Result: about the time your first grace period is over, your stomach will be dumping the oh-so-impressive round two into the intestine and shortly, you will be about four times drunker than you'd figured, without having to drink much more. It is these miscalculations which give new drinkers a hard time, and pickled old souses a reason to live. They can get real ugly real fast, and so we could fill a thesaurus with the words we use in polite conversation to refer to this terrible/great feeling.
Tipsy, tight, blind, snookered, blitzed, blasted, done, plastered, plowed, sloshed, tanked, wasted, spent, gone, arse-over-tit, blotto, bombed, crocked, destroyed, hammered, juiced, loaded, obliterated, sauced, shit-faced, smashed, stewed, three sheets to the dang ol' wind man, under the table, you get the picture.
Like mixing a little lemon juice into gin drinks, mixing these euphemisms with our reasoning makes this hard-to-swallow proposition a little easier to, uhm, swallow.

Cheers to the talented Mister T.K. Wang

2004-09-17T01:18:00.000-07:00

There is no friend like the old friend, who has shared our morning days,
No greeting like his welcome, no homage like his praise:

I had an open bar laid before me tonight, totally unexpectedly, but most welcome. It was the bar of a retirement reception. Not full, but chilled tasty chardonay, and hefewizen with a lime will perfect any outdoor summer night. On a perfect summer night it's hard to tell wether the setting is more intoxicating than the brews.
But tonight there was no contest, as this reception was preceded by the final concert of the Los Angeles philharmonic season. This concert of Russian composers managed to intoxicate 9000 people all at once.
The concert was introduced by the director of the philharmonic, saying that it's a melancholy time of year, because the family of musicians, so used to all their time together, would separate and go their respective ways for their time off. But especially melancholy because tonight was the last performance of anyone retiring this season.
And with that, she introduced T.K. Wang.
T.K. joined the philharmonic in 1964, and has been with the first violins through 4 directors, 51 tours, 4000+ concerts, tonight being his last, "Ladies and gentlemen would you please welcome Mr. T.K. Wang"
And he got to walk onstage all by himself, to the roaring applause of the crowd.
They played their concert, and it was a good one. Those Russians are very dramatic, and the setting, America's largest natural amphitheater , was dramatic too.
T.K. is the father of one of my oldest and best friends. Oliver is cool, smart, handsome (not to be a homo or anything, but c'mon he is Half Asian), unbelievably nerdy, and always willing to plunge headfirst into whatever seems exciting. Technology, motorcycles, food, recreationals. Living proof that music is not the only thing T.K. excels at reproducing.
After the concert, I managed to run into T.K. and his lovely wife and daughter. They were very surprised and happy to se me. I was less surprised, but no less happy to see them. I gave them my condolences because their son could not attend. They then invited me to come celebrate a bit with them at the reception his colleagues had planned for him.
And now I get to walk onto a rooftop patio with dozens of the worlds most talented musicians alongside the guest of honor. A waiter offered us wine, and I took chardonay, but by then I was already drunk on my sense of satisfaction. The Wangs of course, had some mingling to do, so I excused myself and went for some Hors D'oeuvres while T.K. introduced his women to the few who did not yet know them.
I was at the buffet, in front of the very same Harpist who nearly brought me to tears not half an hour ago, reaching for a little roast beef sandwich when the Bread top part of it falls, almost mustarding her, then hitting her feet. She then gives me this little look, 'you should be a little embarrassed young man' it seemed to say. I was mortified. But I looked straight at her, smiled, and said "It's about time i jumped on this low-carb bandwagon anyways." She smiles back and says "you may as well, everyone else already has." Whew, this woman does not think I am a toad.
I sat and was joined by Mr. Wang's family for the rest of cocktails. "where is Essa Peka?" asked Mary, his wife. "I noticed earlier, Essa Peka didn't even come" replied her daughter. It took me a second to realize they were talking about Salonen. Whoa. During cocktail hour, T.K. put on some of those Neon flashing sunglasses, he was gifted a backpack (as something of an inside joke by the first violins), and the crowd erupted into chants of 'T.K. T.K. T.K.' more than once.
As cocktails gave way to coffee. T.K. was summoned to cut the first slice of cake, "After this slice, you're officially retired"
He did, and there was much applause. But then, he didn't stop, he started slicing the cake with very much gusto, untill someone suggested to him that perhaps he should let the good people from the Patina group take care of that, since that was their trade, and they might do a better job of it. He conceded. The evening wore on. As the crowd dwindled it became easier to overhear all the nice things people were saying to and about Mr. Wang, all the gratitude for being a good colleague, and a good example and unselfish teacher from the younger violins.
I finished my cake, my coffee and my conversation. I congratulated him one last time, as I said goodbye to his family, who I'd been sitting with.
As I walked to my car, I couldn't stop feeling so lucky to be well acquainted with such an extraordinary group of people, and that I got to share some of this most special evening with them.

Thank you for everything and Cheers T.K.!

Cheers to Mexico, Love and...

2004-09-15T01:25:00.000-07:00

Taking advantage of Spain's problems with Napoleon in 1808, Mexicans began to consolidate an outcry against Spanish rule. When the followers of an insurgent priest, Hidalgo, freed a whole prison (kinda like Bastille day), and apprehended native spaniards a revolution for independence had begun. He yelled a war cry, that is repeated every september 15th at midnight by jubilant Mexicans. September 15th is a National holiday in Mexico, and like all of those, there is universal dry law. No booze for sale. Anywhere.
About a hundred and eighty nine years later, to the date, I was remarking this to one of those most deadly-intoxicating of libations, a beautiful girl.
This became a double anniversary of mine, as it marked the very first time i started falling in love. I say started because, like revolutions, love-falling is a long process. Really, it's more like digging than falling.
Hidalgo, Allende, Aldama y Jiménez, the revolutionaries were betrayed and executed, decapitated and that marked the end of that chapter.
Love sometimes feels like it's over, and you were silly for giving it a try. It's not. You weren't.
The war was picked up in the south by Morelos and many others. They more clearly defined their goals and made much progress, but Morelos too was eventually executed,
After his death there was a lull in popular support and armed effort. In this period, a few especially brave men and movements stand out.
After the collaboration both political and military of two great generals, Guerrero and Iturbide, the tides begin to turn, and insurgents are kicking ass and consolidating. IT'S GREAT!
11 years after the first cry, we have Los Estados Unidos Mexicanos as a sovereign state.
As it turns out, like revolutions, the stock market, and sex, love is best right before it's over.
Unlike revolutions, when it's over you wish it wasn't. And you remember all the good stuff while you're wishing. Over and over.
And here, maybe a theory as to why God gifted man this thing, wine. Because He can sympathize most with not being able to forget. Some things you just can't forget. But if you pull up a stool, and tell me about 'em while I pour you a drink, maybe we can turn remembering into something different.

Viva Mexico!
Viva!

Some drinks you just don't forget.

2004-09-11T21:11:00.003-07:00

They start long before you crack open the bottle, and they don't finish until long after you realize the glass at the bottom is not going to tint anything rose. It was a Tuesday morning when my habit was a beer on Wednesdays. It was bright, and i was rowing. And then in class. And then the class was interrupted. All of them were, the rest of the afternoon. I woke up Dan, and explained to him why everyone uptown was going to have a lot of free time that afternoon, and why we wished we didn't. I told Julia I needed a hug and some headache medicine. She gave me both. Night eventually came, and no one had any more plans for the day except to sit around and hurt. We sat around with my bottle of gin and his bottle of whiskey and a few of them for good company. It was Bombay sapphire with ice in a shapely tumbler, which had been a gift for my 19th birthday. Despite the fragrant, well-spiced nature of the drink, it was bitter all the way down.
Like all days, like all drinks, this one eventually ended, but it never went away.

The thing about Afrikaaners is,

2004-09-07T15:22:00.000-07:00

...they got used to some pretty messed-up stuff back in the Motherland. And tending bar for them is an experience I would not trade for all the shares of the Dutch East India company in the world. There's a small bastion of expatriate south african jews in orange county. They throw nice parties for each other, and sometimes they summon me to tend their cocktail bars. They share a few easily recognizable traits. They dress well, they are willing to travel far for Mitzvahs, they have impeccable if slightly paternalistic manners, and there never fails to be one among them whose breeding deviates considerably from the norm. They are always in the slightest of minorities, and they all deviate in exactly the same way.
Yesterday, an especially nasty Boer, baited me into doing something I had never done before, will never do again, and am really glad I did once.
Here is how it went. After a long and tedious order by an older woman, the kind who'se lived 85% of her life on the sweet side of apartheid, a kindly older gentleman asks me if I can make a margarita. I explain to him that this bar has only neutral spirits, and I cannot oblige. The ol' woman interjects,
"You can't ask them like that, tell him what you want and let him worry about making it.
Tense pause as all the other Americanized guests feel a little awkward, having overheard the wench. Think fast, diffuse, make it okay, say something that makes everyone feel good about standing around at your bar feeling weird.
ME: I'm sorry then, sir, I'm afraid I have no choice but to disappoint you.
HE: That's fine, young man, [Jane], did you hear what he had to say
SHE: You can't take that kind of insolence from them or else they'll get used to it.
and then, as if to prove a point, and cutting in front of all the people waiting patiently,
SHE: You can make me another apple martini.

Now, There's different ways to make them candy cocktails. Vodka, appropriate schnapps, then some amount of whatever filler you may or may not want to use. If you use store bought sour mix, it adds a little more sugar to the mixture, which means you can add more vodka, which means it is stronger, and sweeter. But this cheap sour mix has an unfortunate side effect, when shaken violently, it makes the drink opaque instead of translucent, and on top of that, it makes a little bit of foam at the surface of your cocktail glass. Foam I used to hide the mouthful of barkeep she got for her manners. Before you feel to bad for her, this is the kind of woman who bought the Johannesburg Deluxe 7 series BMW. The one with the flame-thrower option available only in South Africa, to ward off would-be car-jackers. Before you applaud me for my heinous act, a little sympathy for her too. All her life, the people at her service were also under her heel. Some set of circumstances made it easy for this woman to grow up like this. It's hard to judge her. But it was real easy to size her up, and reeeeeeeeeeal easy to spit in her drink.

Someone spiked the punch!

2004-08-24T08:56:00.000-07:00

A luscious louche and old acquaintance remarks on a problem that is not unique. Being accustomed to merrymaking with friends, it's always a little depressing when, because of financial situations you have to lose the habit.
There's an easy way to stay in good spirits, even when the spirits available to you are not so good. A good punch. Here are a couple of tried and true recipes, from good people I know.

Mr. Marcelo's fuck'em up juice

(patent pending)

1 part vodka.
1 part flavored white zinfandel or other blush wine.
2 parts cranberry juice.

I've tried this one myself and a few alternate recipes. It's good. Mr. Marcelo assures me that flavored blush wine is expensive in NYC and not much of a money-saver. All I ever drank in New York was beer, Whiskey, gin and work product, so i cannot vouch for that. But the crap is like 9 dollars a gallon at Ralphs here in L.A. I can't imagine it's too much more than that anywhere. This punch is strong, easy to swallow, and since its sugar comes packaged as fructose rather than sucrose and it's wine is pink rather than red, it is relatively hangover friendly.
It always struck me as funny that Marcelo called it a fuck'EM up juice rather than fuck-you-up juice or fuck-us-up juice. I wonder if he knows something about this we don't. You can invite him to your party if you'd like.
If your friends would disapprove of you if they knew how ghetto you were or if you do more cooking than drinking at your place, you can try this favorite of the people of my people.

Sangria

1 magnum(1.5 liters) of cheap red wine
7oz cheap gin (or vodka, preferably gin)
2 lemons, sliced
2 peaches, sliced
2 bananas, sliced
2 apples, cubed
4 oranges, peeled and cubed
6 whole cloves
half a stick of whole cinnamon

Mix all ingredients well, refrigerate for two hours. Serve in a glass with plenty of ice and 2oz. of mineral or soda water.
For a more intimate group of friends who plan to begin and end an evening at home (a looong evening at home) is one of two IanPunch recipes. Ian is a legend and we'll never be able to do what he does, but i thought I'd share anyways.

IanPunch

1/4 cup of your favorite spice* well ground
a watermelon
Ice cream or yogurt or juice or honey or whatever

let the well ground spice sit in the vodka for 2-3 days, more if possible. Cut a 3 inch hole at the top of the melon and a 1.5 inch hole at the bottom. SLOWLY pour the vodka into the larger hole, watch the fun as some water drains from the bottom. Eat some of the melon, make smoothies with it, chase it with beer, etc. Just make sure you don't have anything real important to do for like, six hours.

*it is imperative that you have the correct favorite spice, as many will ruin this recipe. If you are confused as to what your favorite spice is, please contact me personally.

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

2004-08-22T02:19:00.000-07:00

S. Klein throws THE BEST parties. S. Klein went to Law School at Tulane. Her family loves her very much, and they're always invited to her parties. Her colleagues love her very much, and they always come to her parties. Smart, rich, sexy, important, young lawyers; Oh my!
S. Klein always throws parties with themes, e.g. party New Orleans style... She always mixes delicious punches that go right along with the theme (e.g. Hurricane and vodka, or rum.) She makes delicious Hors'devours right along those same lines. Just imagine, cayenne spiced chicken wings, bread pudding with bourbon sauce, a big plate of Louisiana shrimp. Just imagine!
But that's not it.
At some time, at just the right time, she'll find you and lose everyone else, and talk to you about exactly the right thing, like it matters the most, for the perfect amount of time. And then, before you leave, for some wonderful reason, she'll find you and do it again.
So, in the end, every guest will leave knowing for a fact that their beautiful young hostess was especially glad to see them in particular.
S. Klein throws the best parties!

UPDATE: Going to mass hungover is not the best. Not the best at all.

Cheers to middle school english, grammar and composition teachers,

2004-08-20T09:00:00.002-07:00

because honestly; as they stood there teaching us spelling, verbs, nouns, adjectives, gerunds, tenses, 8-3, year after year, with nothing but our blank stares for gratitude, with nothing but the end of the year to look forward to, when could they have possibly imagined that sitting around writing essays would be the hip new pastime of the 21st century?

well, now you don't have to wait until happy hour to toast each other, because I am including 2 recipes which can be sneaked past the eyes and noses of impressionable young school-kids and discerning principals alike. One is for summer, one is for winter and each recipe can be multiplied to make a pitcher or a kettle full. Because, after all, who wants a disgruntled colleague?

Bloody Mary

3 oz vodka
big pinch of salt
dash of pepper
dash of horseradish
juice of half of a big juicy lime
dash of hot sauce (tapatio works best)
splash of worcestershire sauce
generous sprinkling of celery salt.

Stir together with ice in a big glass, top with 5-6 oz of tomato juice and stir again.
Chill in teachers lounge between classes.
That goes for the drink too ; )

Canelita

6.5 oz water
3 Tablespoons of sugar
half an un-ground cinnamon stick.

Over medium heat, dissolve the sugar into the water. Break the cinnamon stick a LITTLE (Important: if you break it into pieces that are too small, it will be bitter) and stir it in the sugar-water 3-5 minutes. Let cool a minute, and pour into a mug with 2 oz. white Tequila. I can recommend Sauza as a tasty, affordable brand.

-Cheers, Ms. Snyder, Mrs. Novack, Mr. Vail and all the rest of you.

The thing about Manhattan's is, they're hard to make.

2004-08-17T11:32:00.000-07:00

Hey, I like this kid, i can't believe you were going to shoot him. Can you mix drinks?...
...I'll have a Manhattan

Once I took a bartender test, and it involved standing in front of a still not to tipsy panel of judges. I was to try and seem charming and recall a random drink recipe all at once. This would determine wether or not I was qualified to serve booze in exchange for money.

I'll have a Manhattan.

My Luck, the drink was a manhattan. the first recipe I learned, thanks to one of my favorite stories, and my joke was good.
"yo know, the last time I made this drink it was at a halloween costume party. open bar for anyone in a costume. A guy comes up in nothing but apair of levis and orders one. I told him 'listen buddy, the bar is open for people with costumes, but if you dont put on shoes and a shirt, I can't give you service.' 'What are you talking about, I have the best costume in the joint; I'm a premature ejaculation.' 'Say WHAT?!' "yeah' he says, 'I just came in my pants"
and with that I handed them a perfect manhattan Straight up.

Supoib!
Why that's the best manhattan i've ever had!

It was a good drink, said the judges. Thank goodness because there was a lot riding on this, my first Manhattan.

You promised me the best manhattan I'd ever had. Where is your bartender?

All I had to do now was wait and hear I got the job

What have I done to desoive such a flat, flavorless Manhattan?

I got the job, and though it never got me indicted for murder, I did develop something of a habit of arriving late, but not once did I serve a flat, flavorless Manhattan. Everyone always forgave me. No one forgives a bad Manhattan.

Manhattan

2 oz. Whiskey (bourbon if you've got a sweet tooth, scotch if you want to make a Rob Roy)
1/2-3/4 oz vermouth
dash of angostura bitters

shake ingredients GINGERLY untill your drink is cold. Serve straight up if it's cold outside. On the rocks this makes an excellent summer sip. You can do it with sweet vermouth, dry vermouth or even half and half for a Perfect Manhattan, it all depends on what your friends like best. Garnish with a flag.
Note: a flag is made by spearing a maraschino cherry onto a slice of orange.

Supoib!

Um brinde a estes homens

2004-08-13T06:46:00.000-07:00

Portugal perdeu o jogo mas todo mundo gano um pouco. Os jogadores de futibol Iraqies ganaron ontem 4-2, mas mais importante e que nao tiveram horror as torturas de o filhio Hussein depois de o partido.
Nao posso invitar-os uma cerveja porque Mohamed nao os permite ficar bebados.

We're different and easy 'round here

2004-08-12T12:54:00.000-07:00

From this side of the bar we're always learning. By now I can do two things well. Get you drunk, and figure you out. Get your people drunk and figure them out. Repeating patterns can be discerned by the nuanced barkeep, and acted upon next time they are expected with a little bit of preparation. Some patterns are more obvious and predictable than others, and therefore more easily prepared for. These most obvious and predictable patterns of behavior are called "stereotypes" by the unenlightened.

Once upon a time I was behind the bar of a private party with my favorite coworker ever. A pretty, smart, sexy Brit. Favorite for 2 good reasons, the first being obvious and the second being that it made my job a breeze. (Think about it, a nice looking girl with a sexy accent is gonna get 85% of the attention therefore about 75% of the demands made from the bar.)
The hosts were black, the neighborhood was the Bronx, and all of the guests were black. The music was excellent, the dancing was rhythmic, the drinks were flowing cause we did a good job. At the end of the night we were thanked profusely by this charming family with smiles, our wages, plus four dollars in tip between us. On the crazy cab ride home, this wilted flower was livid, having taken this as a personal insult. I brought to her attention the origin of the black community in America, and how this history has left a mark on socioeconomic relationships to this day. As a result, money is used by our different communities in different ways, and not always as a way to say thank you.
The next day, she thanked me for my insight in helping her learn that we left that party with no less gratitude than we've gotten even from our most generous hosts . Always nice to hear from someone older and wiser than myself. (Disclaimer I am younger than almost everyone and wiser than no one.)

I learned that black people love Alize, a sweet brandy concoction. Especially when mixed with vodka.

Alize lowball

3 oz. Alize
3 oz. Vodka

Stir in a glass with plenty of Ice.

Everybody buy these men a drink.

2004-08-11T04:26:00.000-07:00

By now, if you're the last person on earth who hasn't read this blog then you should. But then the next time you run into him, or any of his ilk, you should offer them a pint of cold beer. Or half a six-pack. Neat Jameson whiskey, I bet the officers would love. But that aside, you get CB anything he wants!

Que llegue la hora

2004-08-08T02:32:00.000-07:00

Despues de toda cena decente, es importante que se separen los hombres de las mujeres. Todos sean bienvenidos a la cerveza, pero despues de la cena, que los hombres se sirvan un Brandy, y las mujeres un cafe. Los niños que juegen y no den lata.

Y cuando un niño ya este demasiado grande para jugar, que se siente y se sirva un tequila con los grandes. Y aunque no sea su primer trago, que sea la primera vez que los grandes se fijen como se comporta en esta condicion. Que se calle, que escuche, y que deje caer una broma a la hora adecuada. Y asi, que lo vuelvan a invitar un vino la proxima vez que venga a cenar.

Salud chamaco.

THIS BEER COST SEVEN DOLLARS!

2004-07-31T02:41:00.001-07:00

it's a little flat and not very good. It leaves a bitter taste.

So after that, I avoided the beer at Dodger stadium. But I started going to all the games i could, because I was a new fan of baseball. I had grown up in a home with no appreciation for major league sports of any kind. (I was however taken to my first bullfight at the tender age of six. I loved it. I still do.) But after my buddies dragged me to a game, and I saw this big hoser trot onto the field like an expensive horse who's been overfed, and demolish the 9th inning in 7 pitches against the then world champion anaheim angels, I was hooked!

Who was that? What's a closer? What's a save? How many in a row!? That sounds like a lot. What's the old record?
And as i learned a little more, I started learning player names and habits. One of them caught my attention when at first base he leaped 2 feet into the air to get a guy out and preserve Odalis Peres' no hitter late in the 8th. A CATCHER no less.

One day my aunt Anita died, and as I drove home from her funeral, feeling emotionally pliable, I drove past a

Cheers to icons, old standbys and forgotten classics.

2004-07-30T02:12:00.000-07:00

I know where Hugh Hefner was tonight between 6:45 and 10:00 p.m. A reception and a movie at the academy building on Wilshire. Hef covered the cost of restoring "Tillie's punctured romance" (as well as every other silent picture showcased at the UCLA Festival of preservation), and sat there and watched it with us.

"Tillie's punctured romance" was based on the stage play "Tillie's Nightmare", which I think is a more appropriate title. The movie is about a homely country girl who is convinced by a vagabond gigolo to snag her farmer dad's savings and run away to the city. L.A. of course. The smooth-talking (err, smooth-miming?) Lothario was expertly played by a very young, extremely handsome Charles Chaplin. This was the first feature length (84 minutes) comedy ever produced. Throughout the movie, the slapstick was uninterrupted, and i do mean not even for a split second. But throughout, this comedy told a very sad story about people taking advantage of the each other; stealing; manipulating etc. I notice this about old movies that they tend to be heavy on the tragedy, and light-hearted about reacting to it. I wonder what that says about the audience. Were moviegoers in the past more ready to accept tragedy as amusement? Have we gotten soft? Maybe it's just that so much is lost without dialogue, movies couldn't afford a bit of subtlety either in acting or in storyline. But then again, it was a play first.

We were the first audience to see it in it's entirety and unembellished in about 70 years. There was a five piece band playing a ragtime composition written especially for the screening.

There sat Hef, 12 rows ahead giggling at the non-stop slapstick like the rest of us mere mortals. If the reception wine had been a stronger brew, I may have tried to, by example, encourage people to talk aloud about the movie during the movie. Think about it, if you walk into a theater in 1917, it would never occur to you to hush up and listen to dialogue, cause there was none. The band in the background is loud, and lively like in a pub. Smoking cigarettes was still allowed everywhere and concessions sold beer. Very different than the antisocial entertainment they have become.

If the reception brew had been stronger I may have tried to introduce myself to Mister Hefner. Think about it, I may never be so close to this living icon ever again. He wasn't surrounded by bunnies or mad-partying celebrities or twins like in all the small pictures in the Playboy pages. (The brightly colored pages right before the articles start. Don't play dumb.) Just a bunch of friendly looking people who liked moving pictures.

-Salud

Drinks with Directors

2004-07-28T09:33:00.000-07:00

Recently I was lucky enough to have drinks at the Directors Guild of America building. The cocktail conversation was revolving around the Kubrick film we'd all just seen, Paths of Glory. A movie about a french unit forced into an impossible attack with too few men by a zealous general. The movie did not have a moment of levity from 4 minutes into it until that first cocktail. There's an awful feeling that comes with WWI movies. A certain sense of fatalism. It was the last time trench warfare was fought on such a large scale. It was also the first time machine-gun fire was used as a line of defense. This is no coincidence. Such an effective and affecting movie needed just the right drink. Something strong enough to take the edge off, but not so heavy that it would dull your ability to discuss the movie with people who i could learn from. I decided to celebrate the end of the war movie the way some might have celebrated the end of the war, with a Gin and Cointreau cocktail. Zesty and refreshing just like all the good conversation with strangers. The theme of the night was comparing the incompetent general with our own real life commander in chief. It was a nice thought and it brought people out to the movie, however the parallels stand on shaky ground. The general used his unquestionable authority to put his troops in a hopeless position. The goal was in sight but not attainable. In the case of our commander in chief, his authority is questionable because he undermined the very source of it; his goal is an iceberg that Joe Libguilt only sees the tip of, but most importantly, his situation is not hopeless. When i say his goal, I am not naive enough to pretend it was finding WMD and bringing democracy and utopia. Oil is an important and complicated resource. It has many uses, from reprehensible, (like making the already rich superwealthy) to noble (like helping starch farmers in developing nations make more efficient use of their land). There's a billion different things 6 billion different people do with it, and only very few of those things have "alternatives". And in many of those cases the alternatives are the plaything of the haves rather than an actual alternative for the have-nots. We need this oil. Not we Americans, we humans. To leave the last great nearly untapped oil reserve in the hands of a man whose record with natural resources is less than stellar may be viewed as irresponsible on our part. I'm just sayin'.
The arguments against our President are many and valid. But to simplify it as so many have as "Because he started a war instead of pursuing alternatives to fossil fuels" is glib, sad; a sign of ignorance and perhaps most importantly, dangerous.
A tip for mixing thinking drinks. Anything that has gin and something that tastes like fruit in it, will benefit from squeezing half a lemon into it. Also, avoid big cocktails. If you need a drink with some weight, consider lowballs with large ice cubes to keep them from diluting your drink too quickly.

The Delilah

1 shot of gin
1 splash of cointreau
1/2 lemon

Shake hard, take a twist, rim a glass, and sip quickly.

Cheers to the helpful young bartender

2004-07-16T08:21:00.000-07:00

Remember the good old days when civilized gentlemen showed deference to the late hours of the day by lowering their voices indoors? Well, early evening drinks should be mixed with a similar gentleness. If you would like to adapt your recipes, but don't know how, tell me when your party is and what you're serving and i will be glad to help.

Cheers to the bandleader and his blushing bride.

2004-07-13T17:00:00.000-07:00

When the first of your high school comrades gets married, it's a big night for everyone, not just the bride and groom. After the ceremony, everyone is still in a sort of state of shock; it's official we have married friends. Thank God for the looming cocktail hour.
Drinks after the ceremony have two very important jobs to do for us young guests. First, we have to celebrate appropriately this new and exciting event. But also, as the shock wears off, we need something to replace the shock so we can accept the thought of our buddy's new station in life.
There's all kinds of weddings, and all kinds of ways to offer your guests drinks. The drinks say a lot about the people getting married, and these drinks said some lovely things about my friends at the head table. When you're a young couple planning a less elaborate wedding, it's important to budget the bar first. However, to receive your friends with a cash bar would be uncouth. Come the bounty of California to the rescue. Because of our crippling oversupply of quality grape, Trader Joe's is able to offer a case of wine (delicious wine? Yes! delicious wine.) for about the cost of an hours wages, keeping even your most lushty friends in pink elephants.
J.R. Stout is an accomplished young bandleader who made his 5 piece jazz outfit (minus their leader of course) and their unbelivable Jazz Singer the centerpiece at his wedding. Sauvignon and savoy mix together beautifully.

I don't know much, but I know what I like:

2004-07-08T08:48:00.000-07:00

and I like blogs.

Blogs about T.V. or about getting out of the house. Blogs from the left and blogs from the right. Mirthful girl blogs, and Hard working girl blogs. This one will not be so much about work. But about play. Recreational drinking and recreational thinking. I hope to encourage the pouring of beers, the serving of wine, the shaking of cocktails, or the rounds and rounds of shots with the people that you love best, because this is a blog about keeping bar. I hope to prove it can be done from far away.

-Salud