Lockdown Libations no. 4: Gibson

Can I do two martini posts in a row? With the amount of gin I have, I would say the answer is yes.

But, more than that, I think I’ve discovered a new favourite cocktail so, yes, that’s more than enough reason to do so.

Gibson I

I was recently, gratefully, on the receiving end of a media drop featuring two bottles of liquor from a Quebecois distillery whose products are now hitting the Alberta market thanks to Spur Imports.

The package of holiday cheer featured a bottle each of gin and creme de menthe from Les Subversifs, among other goodies.

The small distillery currently offers four options: vodka, the aforementioned gin, a creme de menthe — which, don’t you dare raise your nose at; this is no mouthwash-evocative booze you used to drink as a teenager at clandestine house or bush parties —and a maple liqueur, each named for an historical Quebecois figure.

Les Subversifs gin

(I’d like to note here that I have been very fortunate in my career to be gifted products to try and opportunities to eat at new restaurants etc. I try to ensure it’s very clear when I’m being gifted something because it’s really important to me to make a distinction between a gift/media event and something I am posting about because I love and truly endorse it. This gin? It very much fits into the category of “gifted but 10/10 would purchase — and likely will.” Also, most of the time that you see me posting on social, it’s because I paid my own money for things. OK, I feel better for getting that out of the way.)

Which means that when I tell I consumed about a fifth of the bottle of Isabelle Montour creme de menthe, it is a legit endorsement of a delicious liqueur that works simply on the rocks, though I will definitely be trying it as a hot chocolate add-in.

But I digress.

Admittedly — and certainly confirmed by the Vesper Martini disaster — I’ve never been much of a martini drinker. I can remember the first I had, with my friend Julie at some bar in Victoria while we were still at UVic for our undergrads. (Pucker readers, it’s the same Julie who introduced me to the beauty of the Whiskey Sour, so any encouraging she did for me to have a martini is entirely forgivable.) Obviously, my tastes have changed a lot in the, cough, cough, number of years since then. But I still haven’t really managed to get into martinis.

Until this one.

Behold the Gibson!

Actually, let’s be clear: behold the Gibson made with Les Subversifs’ Gin Marie-Victorin.*

*Because, let me tell you, if I’ve learned nothing else in recent weeks it’s that some hard liquors are better in some applications over others. One gin is great with tonic, while another is really best where it can shine. And this gin? It’s the latter.

Gibson II

With similar leanings as a London dry, there are undertones of lemon, juniper, cardamom and coriander. But the subversion comes from using parsnip — surely an unexpected ingredient — to lend a slight sweet, earthy note that makes for a very smooth, highly drinkable gin.

The first time I tried it was straight-up… and I liked it.

So I was intrigued when it was suggested I try it as a Gibson. Gin + pickled onion? Yes, I am in.

Cocktail onions

This is not the martini where you skip over the vermouth because you really just want ice-cold gin in a fancy glass. Vermouth is crucial. As is the briney, acidic addition of a cocktail onion.

The ones I had the pleasure of enjoying — eight pearl onions over two cocktails — were made by a former colleague. I had been hoarding them for the last numerous months and, frankly, I’m glad I did. They were waiting for this cocktail. Now it won’t take long for the rest of them to disappear.

Cocktail onions

Like most martinis, the beauty here is in the simplicity and using liquors you genuinely enjoy. (It doesn’t have to be this gin. But it does have to be one you love the taste of, of course.) If I can, I would recommend adding just the smallest, dirtiest splash of pickled onion brine before stirring to chill.

It’s a drink and a snack all in one!

Gibson

  • 2 1/2 ounces gin
  • 1/2 ounce vermouth
  • cocktail onions

Add gin and vermouth to a mixing glass full of ice. Stir until well chilled.

Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with cocktail onion — no judgment on how many.

 

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Lockdown Libations no. 3: Vesper Martini

Hello!

And helllloooooo….

Daniel Craig

No, that’s not entirely gratuitous. There is a point in having Mr. Craig join us here and that’s because he was the impetus for this week’s cocktail.

The streaming service Crave recently added the entire Bond library and I thought it would be fun to watch them in order. So, I started with Dr. No and … guys, it’s so boring! Good lord, movies have changed a lot. So, I changed my tactic and decided to do a mini marathon of all the most recent films, starting with Casino Royale. It is likely my favourite of all the Bond films, for many reasons — no, not just the bathing suit scene — not the least of which is I could listen to Eva Green read the dictionary.

That scene of them on the train? Fire.

Which brings me to the Vesper Martini.

Vesper Martini IV

It’s as much as a plot device as a cocktail — almost a character, even.

Although the majority of the cocktail is gin, what sets it apart from other martinis is the addition of Lillet, a French aperitif made from a blend of wine and citrus liqueur.

I had a bottle in the cupboard of wonders because, cough, cough, I bought it when Casino Royale first came out and I was intrigued by the Vesper. Can we file this under ‘better late than never?’

Vesper Martini ingredients

Most recipes call for Gordon’s, but I don’t have any. This seemed like a good time to crack my Sipsmith gin, which was part of the martini box I purchased during the first lockdown from Proof and to use some of my Schramm’s — an organic potato vodka from Pemberton, B.C.

This is a boozy wallop of a cocktail. More than four ounces of liquor — no filler.

Vesper Martini overhead

And, to be honest, not my favourite. While I can down a Bourbon Old Fashioned, a Boulevardier and a multitude of other straight-liquor cocktails, I struggled with this one. I think the flavour combination just didn’t do much for me.

So, while I’m glad I tried it, I am going to have to find other ways to enjoy Lillet. Perhaps, as the French do, just deeply chilled with a slice of lemon.

(Aside, interestingly, and so very Bond-like, there is a definite debate on whether this is better shaken or stirred. In this particular movie, Bond says he doesn’t care. Some sites argue shaking dilutes too much — which, incidentally, is why Bond does have that preference as it is said he needs to have his faculties about him — and it should be stirred instead. For what it’s worth, I used my shaker, which is why the instructions call for it. I’m sure Bond would be fine if you’d prefer to stir.)

Garnish

Making a lemon twist

Martini pour

Vesper Martini I

Vesper Martini

  • 3 ounces gin
  • 1 ounce vodka
  • 1/2 ounce Lillet Blanc
  • lemon twist

Add the gin, vodka and Lillet to a cocktail shaker with a healthy amount of ice and shake until well-chilled.

Strain into a chilled glass. Rub the lemon twist around the rim of the glass and then add to the drink.

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Lockdown Libations no. 2: Meyer Lemon Margarita

This is the story of two impulse purchases.

Queso and Marg

First, a bag of Meyer lemons I grabbed while grocery shopping. If you know anything about me at this point, you know I love a lemon. And Meyers must be embraced during their short season because that slight sweetness, floral note and thin skin truly set them apart from any standard citrus. (I have some similar feelings to the darkly flavoured blood oranges that also make fleeting appearances on store shelves, but nothing as strong as my excitement on seeing Meyers back again.) (Aside: blood oranges make a fabulous Bourbon Old Fashioned — you’re welcome.)

Squeezed

Second, a container of chili con queso from Empire Provisions.

This was truly unnecessary as I was only there to pick up an order I made online. (Have you tried the Korean sausage? You must. I like to stir fry it, throwing in some thinly sliced green onions toward the end, perhaps some chopped cilantro if I have it, and then put it onto a bowl of rice with a ton of quick cucumber pickles, a gross amount of pickled ginger — though usually store bought, I’ll confess — and some steamed veggies, if I have any. And then, I squeeze over some Kewpie mayo. I know, I know, it’s a bit horrifying. Think of it like the anti-Buddha bowl. But dear god, it is truly heaven — you’re welcome.)

Chili con Queso

Anyway, I was stopping in the fridge/freezer section for a Mexican Coca-Cola and my eye caught by the chili con queso in all of its electric orange-yellow. Did I need it? No. Did I suddenly have an undying craving to eat it? Yes.

Clearly, my subconscious was way ahead of me. I guess it remembered I had a piddly amount of tequila in my cupboard o’ wonders — not to mention three (THREE! Jesus wept.) bottles of Cointreau. (This is why I now have lists taped to the cupboard doors.)

Citrus + tequila + Cointreau = good times.

Good times x chili con queso = excellent times.

That’s just good math.

(Full disclosure: I’m writing this at the end of the margarita and… I think I’m pretty funny right now.)

Salted rim

Meyer Lemon Margarita II

Meyer Lemon Margarita

For all the slushy versions and fancy tequilas available and interesting fruits you can use, a margarita, I feel, is best when simple. See above. And when you have an ingredient like Meyer lemons, you’re halfway home. Sure, lime is traditional. Meyers? Magical.

You’re welcome.

Lockdown Libations achievement unlocked: there were exactly 1.5 ounces of tequila left in the bottle. Not only did I have enough to make this drink, but that’s one bottle not going back into the cupboard!

Meyer Lemon Margarita

  • 1 1/2 ounces tequila
  • 1 1/2 ounces freshly squeezed Meyer lemon juice
  • 1 ounce Cointreau
  • flaky or kosher salt for the glass rim

Set a couple of tablespoons of salt onto a small plate.

Cut your Meyer lemon and use the flesh side to rim your glass. The juice from the lemon will act as an adhesive for the salt.

Swirl the rim through the dish of salt — you can do the entire top of the glass or just half, whatever you’d like.

Put a handful of ice cubes into the glass.

To a cocktail shaker, add more ice, the tequila, lemon juice and Cointreau. Shake vigorously for 15 to 30 seconds, until the vessel is cold to the touch.

Strain the drink into the glass.

 

 

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Lockdown Libations no. 1: Peruvian Elder Sour

I need a project — so sayeth a lot of us right now as we face rising numbers of COVID-19 cases and decreasing ways to be with friends and family.

Peruvian Elder Sour II

I’m not going to make this a whole coronavirus thing, other than to say I need something to do with some regularity to keep myself occupied. And one thing I’ve had in the back of my mind for a few years now is to come up with a way to use all the odds and ends liquor bottles in my cupboard.

There are a lot of them. Like, I’ve-had-to-make-a-list-of-what’s-in-there-to-keep-it-straight a lot.

Liquor list

Liquor Cabinet II

Liquor cabinet I

Many are different brands of the same type of liquor — I have no fewer than six gins, for example. But others are one-offs that I’m not really sure what to do with. Like blueberry vodka and Pisco and two bottles of Cointreau. Yes, two bottles.

So, here we go. Project Lockdown Libations.

The rules are simple — and yes, I need rules. Otherwise the project will fall apart.

Rule no. 1: Each week, I need to make a cocktail. The results of this will be posted here.

Rule no. 2: Each cocktail must use something from the cupboard of wonders.

Rule no. 3: The primary ingredient may not be repeated until every single bottle — lord, help me — is used at least once. (Caveat: they can be used as secondary ingredients.)

That’s it.

Peruvian Elder Sour III

Down the road, I’m hoping to get some local bartenders involved — if you’re game, let me know! But otherwise it’s me, my liquor and Google.

Which led me to this recipe.

Pisco, St. Germain

I wanted to kick things off with pisco, that Peruvian liqueur that falls under the category of brandy, because I’ve had an unopened bottle of it for a few years. I thought I’d make a Pisco Sour — all y’all know I love a sour, but then I realized that as long as I’m using new liquors, I should try to expand my horizons at the same time. Which is how I landed on the Peruvian Elder Sour. Hey! It has citrus, I’m in.

The elderflower adds a nice floral undertone, while the lime adds a little tartness, though not as much as you might think.

Peruvian Elder Sour

  • 2 ounces Pisco
  • 2 ounces St. Germain
  • ½ ounce freshly squeezed lime juice
  • lime wheel or wedge for garnish

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled glass. Garnish with lime wheel or wedge.*
*Which I didn’t because the lime had seen better days and among the points of this project is to use what I have.

Peruvian Elder Sour I

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Paper Plane

Who needs a drink?

For what it’s worth, I don’t think I’m drinking any more than normal even though we’re in the middle of an unprecedented time of pandemic and physical distancing.

The main difference is that I am, of course, doing it alone in my apartment because … well, Covid-19.

Maybe you are too. And maybe, just maybe, you’d like to add something new to your repertoire?

Meet the Paper Plane.

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Fun fact: it has all the hallmarks of a classic cocktail, but it’s actually quite a modern drink — invented by Australian bartender Sam Ross, ostensibly as a nod to the song of the same name by M.I.A.

It was the bourbon that drew me in. Well, and lemon, obviously.

Those two — which form the basis of my entry point into the world of bourbon (via a classic Bourbon Sour) — are a natural pairing. But the drink becomes much more complex with addition of Amaro Nonino and Aperol, which add herbaceous and bitter elements.

The result is a well balanced cocktail that is remarkably easy to make. I mean, it is literally equal parts of four ingredients — one measuring implement (What? Sometimes I don’t want to dig out my jigger. *shrug*), no math.

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Paper Plane

  • 3/4 ounce bourbon
  • 3/4 ounce Aperol
  • 3/4 ounce Amaro Nonino
  • 3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
Add all the ingredients and ice into a shaker. Shake vigorously until the shaker begins to chill.
Strain into a coupe glass.
Garnish with lemon peel, if desired.

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The Best Eats of 2016 – Part I

I’m not going to go on ad nauseum about the annus horribilis that was 2016.

Bad stuff happened. To a lot of us.

Thankfully, good stuff happened too.

Unsurprisingly, for me, that was mostly around eating and traveling and eating while traveling – which, when combined with pretty dresses and patent shoes makes for a very happy Gwendolyn.

There was a month-long trip to the West Coast to visit Tofino and check out good eats there (more on that in an upcoming post), time in Victoria with my best friend and my family, a junket to Cranbrook and Fernie where I ate some amazing Indian food in a very unexpected place, a special trip to San Francisco to celebrate a milestone birthday for a friend, and, of course, an epic return to Japan to see the country I fell in love with when I lived there oh-so-many years ago.

Along the way I ate untold bowls of ramen, found new restaurants to love and dishes that have caused severe cravings for repeat visits.

The year had its tough moments, no doubt, but it was often damn tasty.

Here, in no order, are the best things I ate in 2016. (Part I because, wow, apparently there was more than I initially remembered.)

I can’t wait to see what 2017 brings.

So, Part I:

The main benefit of what I jokingly called ‘funemployment’ was that it made it easy to take off from Calgary. There is some delight in not having to clear vacation days with a boss or trying to manage making 15 days off last across an entire year. I had two weddings out on the coast, about three weeks apart, in the spring and decided to do a road trip out, seeing old friends, exploring some favourite spots and eating lots of delicious things.

Tofino is one of my favourite places in the entire world. (Kyoto is too, and what a blessed year to be able to go to both of these spots.)

There were two nights at the famed Wickaninnish Inn that sits on my favourite beach at the western edge of Canada. The days were spent exploring tide pools and walking the long expanse of sand on Chesterman Beach, grabbing lunch at Tacofino (oh those tacos, so damn good) and generally poking around.

On one of the nights, we were hosted by the hotel to dine at The Pointe restaurant, sampling some of the incredible dishes created by executive chef Warren Barr. Among them, a delicate dish of cured steelhead trout with vanilla-poached rhubarb. The rich fish was neatly balanced by the tangy rhubarb.

Cured steelhead trout with vanilla-poached rhubarb from The Pointe at the Wickanninis Inn at Long Beach.

It was like dinner and a show as eagles swooped past the stretch of windows looking for their own meal and the grey surf broke into white spray against the rocks.

Slightly south, on Cox Bay sits Long Beach Lodge.

When not poking around that beach and the rocky outcropping that borders it to the north, a delicious afternoon was spent in the Great Room, the lodge’s restaurant-lounge hybrid. Cosy and welcoming, guests are invited to grab a board game and settle in for cocktails and snacks, which we happily did, spending a couple of hours battling over Scrabble while eating the lodge’s hot wings (which executive chef Ian Riddick was kind enough to share the recipe for, so those will be happening in my kitchen this year) and sipping Gin & Basil Caesars. When the calendar flipped to 2016, I had only had one Caesar in my life. Now I seem obsessed. And with these ones, it’s no wonder; the basil gives it a nice freshness and the lemon brightens it all up. I couldn’t get enough.

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Victoria will always feel like home to me. I did my undergrad at UVic and make it back at least twice a year to see my best friend, Kirsten. Now that my parents have moved to a quiet spot on the ocean about an hour outside of the city, there’s even more reason to make trips to the coast.

Kirsten and I have our rituals; there is always a lunch at Blue Fox for their Moroccan Chicken Sandwich (with a side of their green apple barbecue sauce for dipping fries in for me), there are pedicures at Sapphire Day Spa, there is a stop at Red Fish, Blue Fish if I’m there in the months when it’s open, a visit to Stage Wine Bar (where the gnocchi is a must-order) and there is shopping.

Since we are always racing against a limited amount of time, we rarely stray from the favourites.

When I was there in the spring, though, we decided to take a chance on somewhere we hadn’t been before but that had been highly recommended: Mo:Le.

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It was a drizzly morning and there was a bit of a wait, so we started with lattes at Mo:Le’s sister coffee shop next door. The great part is then you can take your drink with you when your table is ready.

The menu is a melting pot, with Mexican influences married with flavours from neighbouring Chinatown. It’s an unexpected mix. And it works perfectly.

I couldn’t initially decide on what to order, but, with a helpful server offering her opinion when asked, I went with the Chinatown Ciabatta, a breakfast sandwich with eggs scrambled with cream cheese, that sweet Chinese sausage usually reserved for dim sum-type dishes and a spicy chilli bean sauce.

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On my next visit, I was insistent the itinerary include a stop at Mo:Le. It’s now just become part of the ritual.

Also? Order the Caesar.

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During that same road trip, I met my former mentor for lunch at Longtail Kitchen in Westminster Quay. This spot had been featured on You Gotta Eat Here, so I was already curious about it. I let Shelley handle the ordering; there wouldn’t have been a way for me to narrow down the choices. Pad thai, curry, wings (clearly, I have some things I must always order) and a flatbread-pancake hybrid with peanut sauce. There were no bad choices on that menu.

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No list of my best eats would be complete without a burger, as any of you know me could guess. The one from ‘Camp Upstairs’ – a little bar with an incredibly limited menu that sits above Vancouver’s Campagnolo – may initially seem not that noteworthy.

It’s no frills, for sure, but no frills are needed when something is so expertly made. And these are somewhat cult-like as the bar only makes a limited number per night.

The standard version of the so-called Dirty Burger comes with a beef patty, melted American cheese, lettuce tomato and a couple of pickle coins.

Mine also had fried onions, deeply dark at the edges with that slight sweetness from caramelization.

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This burger is sincerely beefy and juicy with a requisite crust on the patty that adds a gorgeous flavour.

My friend and I split a colossal plate of fries and paired the meal with a perfect Boulevardier, sipping and sharing fries while swapping stories.

A perfect night.

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Stay tuned for Part II, coming later this week, when I cover some Calgary favourites and the best ramen I’ve ever had. Spoiler alert: I had it in Japan.

 

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Meyer Lemon Bourbon Sour and Oh My God, I’m Writing a Book

I’ve been driving around for the last few days with a 10-kilogram bag of sugar in my backseat.

Not even in the trunk — there isn’t enough room between all the flats of diet coke.

Lately, I’ve found myself in a position where I’m going through lots of sugar. Maybe not quite enough to justify purchasing a bag the weight of a small child, but it is a lot more cost effective this way.

It’s not that I suddenly have insatiable cravings for sweet stuff (I will almost always take savoury options over sweet ones when it comes to snacking, despite my love of baking), it’s that recipe testing comes with a lot of trial and error. And that means going through ingredients pretty quickly.

See, I’ve been keeping a small secret. At first because details had to be ironed out. And then because I just wasn’t even sure I believed it myself and finally because I didn’t really know how to even start that conversation.

But here it is: I’m writing a book. A cookbook.

Signed with Veuve Clicquot Rose

(I celebrated signing by drinking some Veuve Clicquot Rose. Sometimes a girl just has to splurge on herself.)

This time next year, people — friends, family, strangers — will be able to walk into a bookstore, or go online, and purchase something with my name on it, with my recipes inside, with my photos illustrating those cocktails, cookies, salads, main dishes and more.

The book contains all recipes that use lemons, limes and grapefruits and it’s called (and I do love this part) Pucker.

When I started this blog five years ago, it was a little side project, a hobby, something to counteract the gloom of covering crime and calamity in the city. These were the years at the height of the gang war and city police were handling upwards of 30 homicides a year. Those days when I worked night shifts, those weekends when I wasn’t listening to the police scanner, I was baking and cooking, photographing and writing, all for the pleasure of it.

Now I get to do all that as my job. And that led to me writing a book as a result.

Life is amazing sometimes.

Let’s have a drink to celebrate, shall we?

How about with a Meyer Lemon Bourbon Sour.

Meyer lemons are slightly sweeter, more fragrant versions of their regular cousins, which are more typical for sour drinks. They work just as well, as long as there is compensation on the simple syrup end of the equation. A sweeter citrus means less sugar is needed.

Meyer Lemon Bourbon Sour

I’ve gone old school with this sour, using egg white in the recipe to create a smooth and frothy cocktail. Those who don’t want to take chances by consuming raw egg can just leave it out. I make it both ways and both are equally good. (Though, admittedly, not using the egg white shaves off at least a minute. You know, if that drink needs to be made quickly. However, if you do use the egg white, may I suggest hanging on to the yolk and making some lemon curd?)

When I first started drinking sours, I made them with whiskey. (Good lord, this blog has come a long way since then. Yikes!) Over the last year, I’ve come to realize that I’m really much more of a bourbon girl. In particular, Buffalo Trace. So, that’s what I use in my cocktails, like this Old Fashioned. But, of course, use what you like, whether bourbon or whiskey.

And  yes, this will probably be in the book.

Meyer Lemon Bourbon Sour I

Meyer Lemon Bourbon Sour

  • 1 1/2 ounces bourbon or whiskey
  • 1 ounce Meyer lemon juice
  • 1/2 ounce simple syrup
  • 1 egg white

In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, combine all the ingredients. Shake well. Strain into a glass and enjoy.

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Bourbon Old-Fashioned

Things have been roller coaster-ish in the last couple of weeks. Some pretty good highs, some devastating lows.

And, while I’m not one to advocate drinking away your sorrows, suffice to say that there were a couple of nights when I got home from work and really felt like I could use a cocktail.

Bourbon Old-Fashioned I

Lately, I’ve been loving the classic Bourbon Old-Fashioned. I had a couple at National back in December, raising a few eyebrows among the group I was with.

“That smells like my dad’s liquor cabinet,” said one friend after taking a sniff.

She may have a point, but I really love this cocktail. So, since then, I’ve kept ordering them. Like at Charcut a couple of weeks ago.

Later, out of curiousity, I looked up the recipe and saw how easy they are to make.

So when the cocktail urge struck, I bought a bag of ice, made some simple syrup and stirred myself a drink.

Bourbon Old-Fashioned III

Bourbon Old-Fashioned

Typically, the recipe calls for straight orange, but I happened to have a couple of blood oranges lying around, so I used slices of that. Of course, use what you have on hand. Although I usually have Maker’s Mark, I recently bought a bottle of Buffalo Trace, which I’m enjoying a lot.

  • 1 sugar cube
  • 3 dashes Angostura bitters
  • 1 orange slice
  • splash of soda water
  • ice cubes
  • 2 1/2 fl. oz. bourbon

In a double old-fashioned glass (or, in my case, whatever glass I have lying around that is clean), combine the sugar cube, bitters, orange slice and soda water and muddle together. Add a handful of ice cubes, then the bourbon. Stir well.

Makes 1 drink.

 

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Blackberry Gin & Tonic

It is unclear to me when I realized I liked gin.

I remember having some in high school – and we’re well past the statute of limitations on that incident, I’m sure – and not being entirely enamoured with the juniper flavour.

At some point between then and now, however, it’s become my preferred liquor. (Though, admittedly, the brand has changed in the intervening years.) Gin and tonics are now my preferred highball.

Although lime is traditional, I like mine with a squeeze of fresh lemon. Sometimes I add in some rhubarb bitters I found at a small shop in Portland, Ore. But even with these minor tweaks, the recipe is essentially the same.

Every favourite can benefit once in a while from a little change, however, so when I stumbled on this recipe for a Blackberry Gin and Tonic while cruising Serious Eats – an excellent online resource for recipes, cooking tips and, perhaps most important to me, reviews of hamburgers all over the U.S. – I bookmarked it immediately.

Blackberry Gin & Tonic I

The scorching heat over the past weekend that had me wilting in my apartment seemed like the perfect time to give it a try. Gin and tonics are a good way to beat the heat, in my opinion, and adding the juicy, sweet and tart summer flavour of blackberry only adds to that.

With my ice and wee clamshell case of some of the juiciest blackberries I’ve ever seen in the grocery store, I set to work.

While I do have a cocktail shaker and set, I don’t have a muddler – a long-handled, often wooden pestle used by bartenders to pound at fruit and herbs to release their flavours. I’m sure a real bartender would balk, but let me assure you that the back of a large spoon pressed against the inside of the cocktail shaker seemed to do a very nice job squeezing out that deep purple juice from the ripe berries.

A little squeeze of lime, some tonic and a large handful of ice then get all shaken up. (I love watching the shaker fog over from the cold as it’s shaken.)

The resulting liquid is berry bright in the glass, even after the tonic is added.

Blackberry Gin & Tonic IV
(P.S. How sweet are these glasses? My little sister has very good taste.)

It tastes of summer and refreshment and of a welcome change to my old favourite.

Blackberry Gin & Tonic III

Blackberry Gin and Tonic

This recipe comes from Serious Eats.

  • 6 ripe blackberries, plus 2 more for garnish
  • 1/2 oz fresh lime juice
  • 1 oz simple syrup (see Cook’s Note)
  • 1 1/2 oz gin
  • 2 to 3 oz tonic water

In a cocktail shaker, muddle the blackberries and lime juice. Fill with ice and add simple syrup and gin. Shake vigorously for about 10 seconds.

Fill a Collins glass with ice. Double strain into serving glass using a cocktail strainer and its strainer or a mini fine-mesh strainer to prevent the blackberry seeds from going into the glass. Add tonic water and stir gently. Garnish with a few blackberries on a skewer.

Cook’s Note: To make simple syrup, combine equal parts water and sugar in a small saucepan and heat over medium heat, stirring, until all the sugar is dissolved. Cool before using. It will keep in a sealed container in the fridge for up to five days.

Edited to add: At a friend’s request, I made these again the weekend this story first appeared in the Calgary Herald. It would be an understatement to say they went over well. This is, hands down, my new favourite summer drink.)

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Sidecar

I love a good retro cocktail.

Sidecar III

Though, truth be told, some times I like just about any kind of cocktail. At Milk Tiger Lounge — where, let me tell you, they make a mean cocktail — I’m particularly prone to ordering the Champs-Élysées. Or, uh, several.

Ahem.

And sometimes I’ll order a Sidecar.

Sidecar IV

But, where the Champs-Élysées is made with ingredients I’m unlikely to ever have in my liquor cabinet — yellow chartreuse is a good example — those in the Sidecar are pretty standard: Cointreau, Cognac and lemon juice.

The thing I don’t usually have is, strangely, ice. My freezer sucks all the moisture out of it and leaves tiny, misshapen cubes with a disgusting aftertaste. So, I rarely make shaken cocktails at home, since it seems a bit silly to buy a giant bag of ice for a drink or two and then have it take up valuable space in my freezer. But I had friends over for dinner last weekend and I knew that gin and tonics would be in order and that would mean ice. And that meant some leftover ice. And that meant it was cocktail time.

Enter the Sidecar.

It’s tart, yet sweet, citrusy and smooth.

And it goes down dangerously easy. Please consider yourself warned.

Sidecar I

Sidecar II

Sidecar

  • 3/4 ounce Cointreau
  • 1 1/4 ounces Cognac
  • 3/4 ounce lemon juice
  • sugar and additional lemon juice for sugaring the rim

Rub the rim of the glass with lemon juice and then dip in sugar.

In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, add the Cointreau, Cognac and lemon juice. Shake well and strain into prepared glass.

 

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Juice of a Few Flowers

Last year was one of celebrations: plenty of new babies and a wedding or two.

That, inevitably, meant many a shower.

Some involved sipping tea out of dainty china cups, others a glass of wine or two, perhaps a tipple of Champagne.

This year is gearing up to be slightly slower showerwise. No weddings on the calendar and only a few friends expecting to add to their families.

Which is too bad, because I’ve just discovered a lovely multi-purpose cocktail.

Juice of a Few Flowers

It’s a drink with a tart citrus punch and a nice kick of vodka. An ice-cold glass, a sugared rim, a sprig of mint.

It’s downright civilized.

So, it’s no surprise then that Juice of a Few Flowers was apparently created in the 1920s by a couple said to give glamorous parties in the East Hamptons.

The original version used gin, but Barefoot Contessa Ina Garten, in her book Back to Basics (Clarkson Potter, $40), has updated the recipe to use vodka.

She notes, though, Gerald Murphy often mixed up the drink without alcohol, pouring it into martini glasses and serving them to the children.

And that makes it a great mocktail for mothers-to-be.

Shower guests and the guest of honour can all sip (relatively) the same thing.

With puckery grapefruit and tart lemon and lime juices, this drink could head toward sour territory, but it’s mellowed by the addition of sweet orange juice, then tempered further with the sugared rim.

Shaken until ice cold (freeze the martini glasses in advance to keep it even further chilled), the drink is smooth and oh-so sippable.

So much so that I don’t think I’ll be waiting for a shower or other celebration to be pulling out this recipe again.

Citrus

Juice of a Few Flowers II

Juice of a Few Flowers

Ina Garten notes if your juicer doesn’t strain the juice, use a sieve to remove the pulp, otherwise it will clog the holes of the cocktail shaker.

  • 1/2 cup (125 mL) freshly squeezed orange juice (2 oranges)
  • 1/2 cup (125 mL) freshly squeezed pink grapefruit juice (1 grapefruit)
  • 1/4 cup (50 mL) freshly squeezed lemon juice (1 lemon)
  • 1/4 cup (50 mL) freshly squeezed lime juice (2 limes)
  • 1 cup (250 mL) vodka
  • extra lemon juice
  • granulated sugar
  • fresh mint sprigs

Combine the orange juice, grapefruit juice, lemon juice, lime juice and vodka in a pitcher.

Dip the rims of 4 martini glasses first in a dish of lemon juice and then in a dish with sugar. Set aside to dry.

Pour the cocktail mix into the glasses, garnish with mint and serve.

This story first appeared in the Real Life section in the Calgary Herald. For more delicious recipes, visit CalgaryHerald.com/life.

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Foxy Lady Rhubarb Cocktails

Some of you may have noticed I have a new header. It had long irked me that in the back of the original photo, I could see a chair leg and a box. I’m sure no one else really noticed, but I did. So, when the uber talented Leah Hennel (a friend and photographer with the Herald; check out her website) asked to do a 1940s-style, black and white shoot with me, I asked in return if she would be willing to reshoot my masthead. I’m really pleased with how it turned out. Looks cleaner, neater and the reds pop way more. I’d love to know what everyone thinks!

I’ve included one of her b&w shots of me below the recipe if anyone is curious. Plus, I had her take a new shot for my “What It’s All About” page, which you can see here.

(One last note: the new header has nothing to do with the catty remarks I wrote about in this post. You will note that my “pleasantly plump” calves, red shoes and red bowl are still very much key elements in the masthead. Because that’s the way I like it.)

Last fall, I drove home to the West Coast for three weeks to chill out with family and friends and take a small side trip to Long Beach. As part of that, I stopped over on Galiano Island for a night to hang out with my grandparents, who have lived on the island for almost as long as I can remember. My grandmother is an amazing gardener and cook. And, man, she knows a good cocktail.

In the late afternoon sunshine, we sat out on the back deck, surveying the expanse of grass, the pond and outbuildings while sipping rhubarb-vodka cocktails. It tasted just like summer. The sour-sweet of rhubarb, bite of vodka and soda fizz was perfection. I had two.

Foxy Lady Rhubarb Cocktail II

So, after I left I found myself thinking often of these cocktails and that early fall afternoon. When rhubarb reappeared at the farmer’s market this spring, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

The beauty of making rhubarb syrup is that you get the gorgeous pink syrup for drinks and the stewed fruit left behind is equally delicious. I like it over plain yogurt, but did indulge once or twice in having it with a healthy dollop of whipped cream.

I also made extra syrup for a pregnant friend. Just mixed with soda, it’s a great mocktail for the summer season.

You may wonder about the name of the drink. My grandmother’s nickname (for which I have no explanation) is Foxy Lady. It only seemed right to name the drink after her.

Rhubarb

Sliced Rhubarb

Stewed rhubarb

Draining the rhubarb

Rhubarb Syrup

Rhubarb and yogurt

Foxy Lady Rhubarb Cocktail

Rhubarb Syrup

  • 4 cups chopped rhubarb
  • 1 cup water
  • Sugar to taste (up to 1 cup, depending on how sour the rhubarb is)

In a saucepan, bring rhubarb and water to a boil. Lower the heat to a simmer and cook until the fruit is soft and the liquid is pink and slightly syrup-like. Add sugar and stir. I started with 1/2 cup. Let it dissolve for a minute and then taste the syrup. Add more sugar if desired. I wouldn’t go much more than a cup, though because rhubarb should be a little tart.

Using a fine strainer set over a bowl, separate the solid rhubarb from the syrup. Let sit for 10 minutes or so to fully drain the rhubarb. Pour the syrup into a container and refrigerate. Scoop the stewed fruit into a separate container and refrigerate.

The stewed fruit is fantastic over plain yogurt or ice cream or topped with a dollop or two of sweetened whipped cream.

Foxy Lady Rhubarb Cocktails

  • 1 part vodka
  • 2-3 parts rhubarb syrup
  • 1 part soda water

In a tall glass, mix together the vodka and syrup. Top with soda and a couple of ice cubes. Stir gently. Serve.

This also makes a fantastic mocktail if you just omit the vodka.

B&W shot by Leah Hennel

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Whiskey Sours

I drank my first Whiskey Sour at the behest of my friend Julie who had spent two years in Ireland where she developed a taste for the amber liquor. That tall drink sipped in the plush lounge of the Four Seasons in Vancouver (two nights of luxury while on assignment in my hometown. L’Occitaine products in the bathroom, three soft pillows on the bed and turn-down service; this is exactly why I never stay at hostels) sparked what would become a several-year quest to find the perfect replica.

There is something deliciously retro about a Whiskey Sour. Makes me want to sing Danke Schoen while prancing around in heels and a frilly, white apron. (And a dress, people, what kind of blog do you think this is?)

I’ve had pitiful recreations at some bars where the bartender believes mixing whiskey and lime-ade will fulfill the need. May I just say, No. No. No. No.

The ingredients

It seems the secret is to have one at a hotel bar and every time I’ve done this, it has been successful. Still, I wanted to give them a try at home, so I was ecstatic when the Barefoot Contessa included a recipe in her latest book, Barefoot Contessa at Home. Her recipe calls specifically for Jack Daniel’s and who am I to doubt Ina? But when I made a batch, I didn’t love them and I wondered if perhaps I wasn’t as enchanted with Whiskey Sours as I once had been.

But I was determined to make them for my pre-blog launch on Saturday night. (And then I got impatient, launched the blog and made it a post-launch.) Another friend kindly offered to donate a half bottle of Gibson’s Whiskey that she had lying around and didn’t think she’d drink on her own, so I decided to make it what that.

I nearly got a hand cramp from reaming the eight limes and six lemons required to make two cups of fresh-squeezed citrus and I was very grateful I had no paper cuts. But it was beyond worth it. Once combined with the sugar syrup and the smooth whiskey, these drinks were fantastic. I think my guests and I made it through the entire batch in the first 30 minutes of the party.

The Aftermath

For the record, I didn’t bother with the cocktail shaker step because I made a pitcher of them and had kept everything in the fridge until just before serving. No one seemed to mind, but I bet ice cold would be even better. In fact, writing about this is tempting me to go squeeze out the rest of the lemons and limes in the fridge for another round.

The recipe comes from Barefoot Contessa at Home.

Fresh Whiskey Sours

  • 3/4 cup Whiskey (use what you like, though my friend Julie — to whom I turn for all things Whiskey — recommends Jameson or Bushmills.)
  • 1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (3 lemons)
  • 1/2 cup freshly squeezed lime juice (4 limes)
  • 2/3 cup sugar syrup

Combine the whiskey, lemon juice, lime juice and syrup. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway with ice and fill two-thirds full with the cocktail mixture. Shake for 30 seconds and pour into glasses. Add a maraschino cherry and serve ice cold.

Note: To make sugar syrup, put 1 cup of sugar and 1 cup of water in a small saucepan and cook over medium heat until the sugar dissolves. Chill thoroughly before using.

Serves four (apparently).

Whiskey Sours

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