Here is our first video for our podcast. It was shot, edited, and published completely on Wayne's iphone using iMovie. We had a great time making it and we hope you use it to make your own amazing Coffee Liqueur. We call it homemade Kahlua, but only so people can relate to what it is. It is Wayne's mom's recipe and she has been making it for years. We hope it helps you make your own amazing cocktail!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Grape Smash
So a few months ago we visited Brian at Myth here in Omaha and he took me behind the bar and taught me how to make this amazing little cocktail. Look for more videos coming soon!
Episode 17
It's the holiday season! In this episode we talk about a few gatherings we had over the Halloween and Thanksgiving holidays as well as some of our favorite cocktails for the season. The picture above is our "Burkey" a bacon topped turkey we made. Keep checking the blog as we will be updating with new recipes and video very soon.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
National Rum Day!
Our friend Chad has been to Mexico dozens of times. He knows the best thing about being in Mexico is having access to Cuban goodies, specifically cigars and rum.
So when we got married in Mexico the first thing he and his lovely wife Kathy did was buy a bottle of gorgeous Cuban rum and some fancy cigars.
The cigars we could live without, but that rum was orgasmic. Buttery smooth, caramel notes, rich and silky. Divine. We drank it neat and we drank it all.
Sadly we can't get that rum here without breaking some really big federal laws, but we can still enjoy National Rum Day!
Drink up, friends!
So when we got married in Mexico the first thing he and his lovely wife Kathy did was buy a bottle of gorgeous Cuban rum and some fancy cigars.
The cigars we could live without, but that rum was orgasmic. Buttery smooth, caramel notes, rich and silky. Divine. We drank it neat and we drank it all.
Sadly we can't get that rum here without breaking some really big federal laws, but we can still enjoy National Rum Day!
Drink up, friends!
Friday, April 29, 2011
The Guiltiest Pleasure
Hey everyone, Wayne here. As you can see by the blatant gap in the dates on our new blog site, Laurie hasn't posted anything for a couple weeks. It's been a bit on the crazy side here at the Bedford House due to some family things, household business and a dash of work insanity. Now life has calmed down and as I write this, Laurie is sitting on our deck with a Manhattan in hand entertaining some dear friends of ours. It's the first actual deck gathering we've been able to enjoy, though the gale-force wind is trying to force everyone inside.Which got me thinking.
At our little impromptu gathering, we made simple appetizers, grilled burgers, offered a veggie platter with spinach dip and pesto filled baked brie. Then one of our friends brought over what I think is the guiltiest of guilty pleasures, chili cheese dip. Yes, the office food-day classic. I'm all about the crafting of amazing appetizers for the perfect get together, but there is something magical about processed cheese food and canned chili melted together in a crock pot of molten goodness. I can honestly say I've enjoyed this dip with crackers, chips, over burgers, on top of eggs, with apple slices and yes, right out of the pot with a spoon. That's right, I have no shame. It's easy to make, especially if you have little time and nothing in the pantry. The magical thing is, everyone (even if secretly) loves it. In fact, I even overheard one of my friends tonight say "I wish I could just stick my face in this." Seriously, if it wouldn't cause third-degree burns, it's not such a bad idea.
I know it's not technically cheese and I realize the chili is probably closer in relation to dog food than real chili, but the combination of these two simple ingredients is something that truly makes a mouth happy. It sticks to the chip (or spoon) is warm, comforting and is somehow delicious. Those that don't think so are either liars, vegans, or have no soul. Or vegans.
So if you would like to make me happy, simply bring a crock pot full of this cheese-like dip to one of our next gatherings. I'll refrain from sticking my face in it.
At our little impromptu gathering, we made simple appetizers, grilled burgers, offered a veggie platter with spinach dip and pesto filled baked brie. Then one of our friends brought over what I think is the guiltiest of guilty pleasures, chili cheese dip. Yes, the office food-day classic. I'm all about the crafting of amazing appetizers for the perfect get together, but there is something magical about processed cheese food and canned chili melted together in a crock pot of molten goodness. I can honestly say I've enjoyed this dip with crackers, chips, over burgers, on top of eggs, with apple slices and yes, right out of the pot with a spoon. That's right, I have no shame. It's easy to make, especially if you have little time and nothing in the pantry. The magical thing is, everyone (even if secretly) loves it. In fact, I even overheard one of my friends tonight say "I wish I could just stick my face in this." Seriously, if it wouldn't cause third-degree burns, it's not such a bad idea.
I know it's not technically cheese and I realize the chili is probably closer in relation to dog food than real chili, but the combination of these two simple ingredients is something that truly makes a mouth happy. It sticks to the chip (or spoon) is warm, comforting and is somehow delicious. Those that don't think so are either liars, vegans, or have no soul. Or vegans.
So if you would like to make me happy, simply bring a crock pot full of this cheese-like dip to one of our next gatherings. I'll refrain from sticking my face in it.
 |
| Peg's Chili-Cheese Dip. |
Monday, April 25, 2011
Episode 12 - 5 O'Clock Lifestyle
Episode 12 - 5 O'Clock Lifestyle
This show features us live on location at Myth, a great little cocktail joint in the Old Market in Omaha.
This show features us live on location at Myth, a great little cocktail joint in the Old Market in Omaha.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Episode 11 - 5 O'Clock Lifestyle
Episode 11 - 5 O'Clock Lifestyle
In this episode we talk about the Hookah! Our favorite shishas, hookah bars and Laurie offers up some Mediterranean appetizer ideas.
In this episode we talk about the Hookah! Our favorite shishas, hookah bars and Laurie offers up some Mediterranean appetizer ideas.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Episode 10 - 5 O'Clock Lifestyle
Episode 10 - 5 O'Clock Lifestyle
In this episode, we share some tequila stories. Let the insanity begin...
In this episode, we share some tequila stories. Let the insanity begin...
Jambalaya recipe for Fat Tuesday
We'll be out and about tonight for oyster shooters and then heading to a house party so I won't be making this jambalaya today, but you should! Like a lot of my recipes, this is a mash up of others I've tried that were successful, but I liked this method in that recipe, that ingredient in the other and well, you get the idea. It's a hybrid. Serve with Louisiana brand hot sauce and beer.
Happy Fat Tuesday!
Jambalaya w/ Chicken, Sausage & Shrimp
12 oz. bacon
½ lb. tasso ham (or other good quality ham), in ½ inch cubes (tasso is a spicy Cajun style ham)
1.5 lb. andouille sausages cut into ½ moons
1.5 lbs. onions, chopped
2 large celery stalks, chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 large red bell pepper, coarsely chopped
1 large green bell pepper coarsely chopped
6 boneless skinless chicken thighs cut into 1.5 inch pieces
2 Tbsp. paprika
1 Tbsp. fresh thyme
1 Tbsp. chili powder
¼ tsp (or more) cayenne pepper
2 bay leaves
1 tsp salt
Generous fresh ground pepper
2.5 C. chicken or beef broth
3- 10 oz. cans diced tomatoes w/ green chilies
3 C. long grain white rice
1 lb. small shrimp peeled and deveined
Old Bay seasoning
½ C fresh parsley, chopped
8 green onions, chopped
Position rack in bottom 1/3 of oven and preheat to 350.
In large heavy Dutch oven cook bacon until brown, but not crisp, add andouille and tasso ham then sauté until meats begin to brown in spots. Add onions, celery, garlic and bell peppers. Cook until veggies begin to soften, stirring occasionally.
Mix in chicken and cook until outsides whiten. Mix in paprika, thyme, chili powder, cayenne, bay leaves, salt and pepper. Cook 1 minute then add diced tomatoes w/ chilies and broth, stir to blend. Add rice. Bring to boil. Cover pot and place in oven until rice is tender and liquid is absorbed 45-50 minutes.
Season shrimp with Old Bay, salt and pepper. Remove pot from oven, remove bay leaves and gently stir in seasoned shrimp, parsley and green onions. Cover and let stand for 15 minutes before serving (this cooks the shrimp w/out over cooking).
Pass around the Louisiana hot sauce to add a bit more spice.
Happy Fat Tuesday!
Jambalaya w/ Chicken, Sausage & Shrimp
12 oz. bacon
½ lb. tasso ham (or other good quality ham), in ½ inch cubes (tasso is a spicy Cajun style ham)
1.5 lb. andouille sausages cut into ½ moons
1.5 lbs. onions, chopped
2 large celery stalks, chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 large red bell pepper, coarsely chopped
1 large green bell pepper coarsely chopped
6 boneless skinless chicken thighs cut into 1.5 inch pieces
2 Tbsp. paprika
1 Tbsp. fresh thyme
1 Tbsp. chili powder
¼ tsp (or more) cayenne pepper
2 bay leaves
1 tsp salt
Generous fresh ground pepper
2.5 C. chicken or beef broth
3- 10 oz. cans diced tomatoes w/ green chilies
3 C. long grain white rice
1 lb. small shrimp peeled and deveined
Old Bay seasoning
½ C fresh parsley, chopped
8 green onions, chopped
Position rack in bottom 1/3 of oven and preheat to 350.
In large heavy Dutch oven cook bacon until brown, but not crisp, add andouille and tasso ham then sauté until meats begin to brown in spots. Add onions, celery, garlic and bell peppers. Cook until veggies begin to soften, stirring occasionally.
Mix in chicken and cook until outsides whiten. Mix in paprika, thyme, chili powder, cayenne, bay leaves, salt and pepper. Cook 1 minute then add diced tomatoes w/ chilies and broth, stir to blend. Add rice. Bring to boil. Cover pot and place in oven until rice is tender and liquid is absorbed 45-50 minutes.
Season shrimp with Old Bay, salt and pepper. Remove pot from oven, remove bay leaves and gently stir in seasoned shrimp, parsley and green onions. Cover and let stand for 15 minutes before serving (this cooks the shrimp w/out over cooking).
Pass around the Louisiana hot sauce to add a bit more spice.
laissez bons temps rouler
I had never even met a Catholic until I moved to this hugely Catholic town many moons ago. Yet since the year I turned 21 I've faithfully spent every Fat Tuesday drinking, whooping it up and…ahem…collecting beads in honor of Mardi Gras.
And while I've drunk my fair share, those sticky sweet daiquiris have never been my thing. Until, that is, I discovered that the Kool Aid colored frosty concoctions that swirl about in those Lucite Icee machines are about as close to a real daiquiri cocktail as I am to converting to Catholicism.
The REAL daiquiri cocktail is 100 or so years old and came from Cuba (as it seems all lovely rum things do). It is also as easy to make and pure as any classic cocktail gets: lime, sugar and quality rum with some ice. Now that's a drink I can get behind.
The daiquiri
So, until Tuesday when you will find me reveling in oysters shooters (raw oysters, horseradish and vodka in a shot glass), eating spicy Jambalaya and swilling the best rum I can find this side of Cuba my advice to you is to let the good times roll, friend.
And while I've drunk my fair share, those sticky sweet daiquiris have never been my thing. Until, that is, I discovered that the Kool Aid colored frosty concoctions that swirl about in those Lucite Icee machines are about as close to a real daiquiri cocktail as I am to converting to Catholicism.
The REAL daiquiri cocktail is 100 or so years old and came from Cuba (as it seems all lovely rum things do). It is also as easy to make and pure as any classic cocktail gets: lime, sugar and quality rum with some ice. Now that's a drink I can get behind.
The daiquiri
 |
Crushed ice 2 tsp. sugar 1 lime, juiced 2 oz. good quality light rumIce in shaker. Add sugar, lime and rum, then shake. Either pour or strain into a glass. Garnish with lime wedge and/or cherry if desired. |
I'd Like to Thank The Academy
The 83rd Academy Awards ceremony is Sunday. Are you planning on rolling out the red carpet and popping a bottle of bubbly in honor of Black Swan or doing an at-home version of Smash Burgers and beers to celebrate The Fighter? Or is it Toy Story 3 cupcakes and Kool-aid with the kids?
It doesn't matter if you've created your own Oscars night party room like Rachel Barry's dads or are just throwing big pillows on the floor so everyone has a place to sit, having people over for a few drinks and to watch the Academy Awards is fun. Also, it's a perfect time to bash...I mean critique celebrities and their taste in clothes.
If you want to add a whole lot of yum to your party, here's a recipe for a bite-sized version of the classic Beef Wellington. They're great with wine (sparkling or no) or cocktails and have a bit more substance than other appetizers so people don't get too tipsy.
Beef Wellies
7 oz. frozen puff pastry, thawed
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. butter
1 shallot, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
¾ C. mushrooms, chopped
2 oz. liver pate
2 Tbsp butter, softened
½ lb. beef tenderloin, trimmed, cut into 1-inch cubes
salt and pepper to taste
1 large egg, beaten
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. On a lightly floured sheet of parchment paper, roll out the puff pastry to a 7 1/2 -by-15-inch rectangle, about 1/8 inch thick. Cut the pastry into 2-inch squares, cover with parchment paper and set aside.
Melt butter in olive oil until foamy then add shallots, garlic and mushrooms. Sauté until fragrant and mushrooms are softened (3ish minutes) and set aside to cool.
In small bowl mix liver pate with 2 Tbsp. softened butter then spread 1 tsp. scant onto each pastry square. Top with mushroom mixture then beef square. Season with salt & pepper. Fold puff pastry over the beef, neatly tucking in the corners and arrange Wellies seam side down on a large baking sheet lined with parchment paper. (At this point recipe can be frozen for up to a week.) Lightly brush each Wellie with the beaten egg and bake for 10-12 minutes or until puffed and golden brown.
No time for all the sautéing? A quicker version is to replace the mushroom and the liver pate mixture with Borsin or any herbed cheese.
Happy Friday!
It doesn't matter if you've created your own Oscars night party room like Rachel Barry's dads or are just throwing big pillows on the floor so everyone has a place to sit, having people over for a few drinks and to watch the Academy Awards is fun. Also, it's a perfect time to bash...I mean critique celebrities and their taste in clothes.
If you want to add a whole lot of yum to your party, here's a recipe for a bite-sized version of the classic Beef Wellington. They're great with wine (sparkling or no) or cocktails and have a bit more substance than other appetizers so people don't get too tipsy.
Beef Wellies
7 oz. frozen puff pastry, thawed
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. butter
1 shallot, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
¾ C. mushrooms, chopped
2 oz. liver pate
2 Tbsp butter, softened
½ lb. beef tenderloin, trimmed, cut into 1-inch cubes
salt and pepper to taste
1 large egg, beaten
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. On a lightly floured sheet of parchment paper, roll out the puff pastry to a 7 1/2 -by-15-inch rectangle, about 1/8 inch thick. Cut the pastry into 2-inch squares, cover with parchment paper and set aside.
Melt butter in olive oil until foamy then add shallots, garlic and mushrooms. Sauté until fragrant and mushrooms are softened (3ish minutes) and set aside to cool.
In small bowl mix liver pate with 2 Tbsp. softened butter then spread 1 tsp. scant onto each pastry square. Top with mushroom mixture then beef square. Season with salt & pepper. Fold puff pastry over the beef, neatly tucking in the corners and arrange Wellies seam side down on a large baking sheet lined with parchment paper. (At this point recipe can be frozen for up to a week.) Lightly brush each Wellie with the beaten egg and bake for 10-12 minutes or until puffed and golden brown.
No time for all the sautéing? A quicker version is to replace the mushroom and the liver pate mixture with Borsin or any herbed cheese.
Happy Friday!
Whisky with an 'e' back
I remember sneaking into Dad's man cave and stealing sips from the bottle of Jack he kept hidden there. I loved how the whiskey burned on the way down and left me feeling warm all over. I still love it.
Clearly, it's my Dad's fault that I'm a whiskey drinking woman and as it's his birthday I thought I'd pay a little tribute to him by waxing philosophic about my first liquor love: whiskey.
When my two sisters and I visited the UK last year we left on Dad's birthday and in honor of him bought a big bottle of Jack to share on the plane (sans tax—gotta love duty free shopping). Until that trip I didn't realize that both Heather and Sammy had similar stories of sneaking snorts of whiskey on the sly. We figured Dad would be proud.
It was on this trip that I discovered the Scots use old American bourbon casks to age some of their scotch. It made me stand a little taller knowing that we are contributing to their long tradition of awesomeness.
I learned another sparkling dinner conversation starter while in the UK: in Scotland, Canada and Japan you drink whisky, while in the U.S. and Ireland you drink your whiskey with an 'e'.
Back to the U.S. and even closer to home in my native state of Iowa they're brewing up small craft batches of rye whiskey. Rye is an American tradition that lost favor after Prohibition but is making a comeback in a big way. The history of American whiskey is peppered with good stories and the Templeton one is no exception.
Since Prohibition days the small town of Templeton, in north central Iowa on Highway 71, has been producing small batch rye whiskey nicknamed “the good stuff.” Back in the day it was a favorite of Al Capone’s and was reportedly smuggled into Alcatraz during his stay there.
During the Great Depression, some of the farmers in Templeton turned to bootlegging to keep their family farms. For almost 100 years the recipe for this rye was kept on the D.L. though it was rumored that there were farmstead stills nestled into the rolling hills of Carroll County that were always producing.
Just after the turn of the new century, a local with family connections to one of the original bootleggers came home to legally share the joys of this American whiskey with the rest of the nation. It took some convincing, but eventually whiskey was once again flowing from Templeton.
The first bottles of “the good stuff” came out in 2006. It was a huge hit and bottles were immediately impossible to find. Last November a new batch was rolled out. They hoped it would be enough, but people are still clamoring for more. Once again, Templeton is so scarce it's like you need mob connections to find a bottle.
But, if you know the right people you can find a bottle. Just last week I met a guy who bought a case of it in Illinois and offered to sell me one. But if you don't have those kind of connections you can try liquor stores and bars in Iowa, Illinois and New York or go online. In fact, check out the Templeton website anyway, it's a fun multi-media site with great stories from some of the original bootleggers: www.templetonrye.com.
Ahhh…whiskey. All this talk of you is making me thirsty.
I raise my glass of the good stuff in honor of you, Dad. Happy birthday. I love you.
To the rest of you: Happy Friday! Go find a bottle of rye, bourbon or scotch and enjoy.
Cheers!
Clearly, it's my Dad's fault that I'm a whiskey drinking woman and as it's his birthday I thought I'd pay a little tribute to him by waxing philosophic about my first liquor love: whiskey.
When my two sisters and I visited the UK last year we left on Dad's birthday and in honor of him bought a big bottle of Jack to share on the plane (sans tax—gotta love duty free shopping). Until that trip I didn't realize that both Heather and Sammy had similar stories of sneaking snorts of whiskey on the sly. We figured Dad would be proud.
It was on this trip that I discovered the Scots use old American bourbon casks to age some of their scotch. It made me stand a little taller knowing that we are contributing to their long tradition of awesomeness.
I learned another sparkling dinner conversation starter while in the UK: in Scotland, Canada and Japan you drink whisky, while in the U.S. and Ireland you drink your whiskey with an 'e'.
Back to the U.S. and even closer to home in my native state of Iowa they're brewing up small craft batches of rye whiskey. Rye is an American tradition that lost favor after Prohibition but is making a comeback in a big way. The history of American whiskey is peppered with good stories and the Templeton one is no exception.
Since Prohibition days the small town of Templeton, in north central Iowa on Highway 71, has been producing small batch rye whiskey nicknamed “the good stuff.” Back in the day it was a favorite of Al Capone’s and was reportedly smuggled into Alcatraz during his stay there.
During the Great Depression, some of the farmers in Templeton turned to bootlegging to keep their family farms. For almost 100 years the recipe for this rye was kept on the D.L. though it was rumored that there were farmstead stills nestled into the rolling hills of Carroll County that were always producing.
Just after the turn of the new century, a local with family connections to one of the original bootleggers came home to legally share the joys of this American whiskey with the rest of the nation. It took some convincing, but eventually whiskey was once again flowing from Templeton.
The first bottles of “the good stuff” came out in 2006. It was a huge hit and bottles were immediately impossible to find. Last November a new batch was rolled out. They hoped it would be enough, but people are still clamoring for more. Once again, Templeton is so scarce it's like you need mob connections to find a bottle.
But, if you know the right people you can find a bottle. Just last week I met a guy who bought a case of it in Illinois and offered to sell me one. But if you don't have those kind of connections you can try liquor stores and bars in Iowa, Illinois and New York or go online. In fact, check out the Templeton website anyway, it's a fun multi-media site with great stories from some of the original bootleggers: www.templetonrye.com.
Ahhh…whiskey. All this talk of you is making me thirsty.
I raise my glass of the good stuff in honor of you, Dad. Happy birthday. I love you.
To the rest of you: Happy Friday! Go find a bottle of rye, bourbon or scotch and enjoy.
Cheers!
Planter's Punch
We finally got the chance to talk with Mark, the Tiki Tender, in Florida (listen to the podcast to hear the full interview) and just in time—it's GORGEOUS here. Of course, it is only February and winter is destined to come back with a vengeance at the end of the week, but in the meantime we've shoveled off the deck, warmed up the grill and are fixin' to drink some rum.
The Tiki Tender generously let us share his recipe for a classic Planter's Punch. As promised, here it is in all its boozy, fresh fruity glory:
Tiki's Planter's Punch
2 oz Myers's® dark Jamaican rum
Juice of 1 lime
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 oz grenadine
1/2 tsp sugar
dash Angostura bitters
Shake with ice and strain into a tall glass with crushed ice. Add an ounce or two of soda water if you like and stir. Garnish with a wedge of pineapple, an orange slice, and a cherry if you are feeling festive.
Happy Hump Day, friends.
Cheers!
The Tiki Tender generously let us share his recipe for a classic Planter's Punch. As promised, here it is in all its boozy, fresh fruity glory:
Tiki's Planter's Punch
2 oz Myers's® dark Jamaican rum
Juice of 1 lime
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 oz grenadine
1/2 tsp sugar
dash Angostura bitters
Shake with ice and strain into a tall glass with crushed ice. Add an ounce or two of soda water if you like and stir. Garnish with a wedge of pineapple, an orange slice, and a cherry if you are feeling festive.
Happy Hump Day, friends.
Cheers!
Martini? Never heard of it.
I turned 30 on the 30th so decided to celebrate my golden birthday with a trip to Greece. The group of gals who came with: Sammy, Michelle, Mary and others, all contributed to the fun and Mary, a well-traveled business consultant, even let us use some of her "miles" to stay in one of Athens' finest hotels.
As you expect from a great hotel, the bartenders were top-notch and poured perfect drinks, including one of the best martinis I've ever had. (Though I may have been a little punch drunk even before the first sip, Greece is a heady place.)
At the time I was just dipping my toe into the pickled vat that is high cocktails and vodka martinis were my upscale drink of choice. I wanted to be a martini-sipping lady. After all, I was turning 30, which is the year of sophistication, right?
Martinis stateside are an everyday occurrence. It never occurred to me the rest of the world wouldn't know what a martini was, especially after having had such a perfect pour at our first stop.
That night we took a taxi to the new hot dance club. It was nestled into the rocks at the very edge of the ocean. We didn't get there until after 11pm, but it being the Mediterranean in the summer the joint didn't start jumping until the wee hours of the morning so we were the first ones there. Fail. Oh well, it was a gorgeous club with lights submerged in the ocean to make the crystal clear water glow. The open-air club was filled with tables upon which we weren't allowed to sit and ottomans we couldn't even look at. They were reserved. Fine by us. Keep the drinks flowing and these girls will happily live up to the friendly American girl reputation.
I ordered a martini from a Grecian beauty who looked at me askance, then handed over a glass of liquor on the rocks. One sip and I sputtered and stammered. This was not a martini. She held up a bottle of Martini & Rossi vermouth and sassed, "Martini, right?" I rolled my eyes and ordered something else while we laughed at her. Obviously she was there for her looks not her bartending prowess.
Another bar, later that night (earlier that next morning?) I tried again, asking the swarthy crystal blue-eyed, dark-locked guy behind the bar for a martini and getting another glass of vermouth. What the hell?!
I learned my lesson. I didn't want to be one of those awful Americans who refuse to accept that cheeseburgers aren't on the menu so I just stopped ordering martinis.
Another day, another sun soaked island. On an explorative shopping excursion Mary and I discovered a small jazz club tucked into an ancient alley. We went back that night and found it populated with a crew of Austrians on a sailing holiday.
They were cute and so were we so naturally we struck up a conversation. Our talk started in New York and quickly turned to martinis. The Austrians weren't surprised that no one had heard of martini cocktails and reported that it was more common in places like Spain and Greece to drink vermouth on the rocks.
Fun liquor fact: vermouth is, in fact, a wine. Though I still think people are crazy to drink it on the rocks.
Another round of brews later one of the mates in our chivalrous Austrian crew shuffled the 15 year old bartendress off to the side, hopped behind the bar and made martinis for us all that whole night.
The moral of the story? Persistence is the key to getting a great martini? Find an Austrian sailor and you'll find a good time? Or, the martini cocktail can unite the world? I vote yes.
As you expect from a great hotel, the bartenders were top-notch and poured perfect drinks, including one of the best martinis I've ever had. (Though I may have been a little punch drunk even before the first sip, Greece is a heady place.)
At the time I was just dipping my toe into the pickled vat that is high cocktails and vodka martinis were my upscale drink of choice. I wanted to be a martini-sipping lady. After all, I was turning 30, which is the year of sophistication, right?
Martinis stateside are an everyday occurrence. It never occurred to me the rest of the world wouldn't know what a martini was, especially after having had such a perfect pour at our first stop.
That night we took a taxi to the new hot dance club. It was nestled into the rocks at the very edge of the ocean. We didn't get there until after 11pm, but it being the Mediterranean in the summer the joint didn't start jumping until the wee hours of the morning so we were the first ones there. Fail. Oh well, it was a gorgeous club with lights submerged in the ocean to make the crystal clear water glow. The open-air club was filled with tables upon which we weren't allowed to sit and ottomans we couldn't even look at. They were reserved. Fine by us. Keep the drinks flowing and these girls will happily live up to the friendly American girl reputation.
I ordered a martini from a Grecian beauty who looked at me askance, then handed over a glass of liquor on the rocks. One sip and I sputtered and stammered. This was not a martini. She held up a bottle of Martini & Rossi vermouth and sassed, "Martini, right?" I rolled my eyes and ordered something else while we laughed at her. Obviously she was there for her looks not her bartending prowess.
Another bar, later that night (earlier that next morning?) I tried again, asking the swarthy crystal blue-eyed, dark-locked guy behind the bar for a martini and getting another glass of vermouth. What the hell?!
I learned my lesson. I didn't want to be one of those awful Americans who refuse to accept that cheeseburgers aren't on the menu so I just stopped ordering martinis.
Another day, another sun soaked island. On an explorative shopping excursion Mary and I discovered a small jazz club tucked into an ancient alley. We went back that night and found it populated with a crew of Austrians on a sailing holiday.
They were cute and so were we so naturally we struck up a conversation. Our talk started in New York and quickly turned to martinis. The Austrians weren't surprised that no one had heard of martini cocktails and reported that it was more common in places like Spain and Greece to drink vermouth on the rocks.
Fun liquor fact: vermouth is, in fact, a wine. Though I still think people are crazy to drink it on the rocks.
Another round of brews later one of the mates in our chivalrous Austrian crew shuffled the 15 year old bartendress off to the side, hopped behind the bar and made martinis for us all that whole night.
The moral of the story? Persistence is the key to getting a great martini? Find an Austrian sailor and you'll find a good time? Or, the martini cocktail can unite the world? I vote yes.
 | |
| Cheers! |
The Hangover
Yup, it happened. My 5 o'clock lasted longer than it should have, I had too much fun and I'm paying for it today with a nagging hangover. You'd think I'd learn, but I never do.
Since the dawn of time people have been finding ways to make alcohol and tinkering with recipes to help cure the after effects, because a hangover demands to be fed. I've heard a list of cures, everyone has their favorite: spicy Menudo (the soup, not the boy band from the 80s), a greasy burger and fries, hair of the dog, usually in the form of a Bloody Mary, the list goes on.
Me? I obsess over spicy tacos. But I never buy those little packets of powdered taco seasoning, I make my own. The secret ingredient is cumin. I heart cumin. Start by sautéing some diced onions and garlic before throwing in lean ground beef. When the burger is browned I add in the seasoning stuff with 1/3(ish) cup of water, tomato juice or stock, turn down the heat and let it simmer for 10 minutes or so.
I really don't really have a recipe, I sort of just sprinkle in ingredients and taste as I go so my measurements are approximate and to taste. Consider this a starter recipe and add/delete as you will.
You know what goes best with tacos, right? Margaritas. Oh damn…here we go again.
Taco Seasoning
Since the dawn of time people have been finding ways to make alcohol and tinkering with recipes to help cure the after effects, because a hangover demands to be fed. I've heard a list of cures, everyone has their favorite: spicy Menudo (the soup, not the boy band from the 80s), a greasy burger and fries, hair of the dog, usually in the form of a Bloody Mary, the list goes on.
Me? I obsess over spicy tacos. But I never buy those little packets of powdered taco seasoning, I make my own. The secret ingredient is cumin. I heart cumin. Start by sautéing some diced onions and garlic before throwing in lean ground beef. When the burger is browned I add in the seasoning stuff with 1/3(ish) cup of water, tomato juice or stock, turn down the heat and let it simmer for 10 minutes or so.
I really don't really have a recipe, I sort of just sprinkle in ingredients and taste as I go so my measurements are approximate and to taste. Consider this a starter recipe and add/delete as you will.
You know what goes best with tacos, right? Margaritas. Oh damn…here we go again.
Taco Seasoning
 |
| 3 Tbsp. Chili powder 1 Tbsp. Cumin 1 tsp. Garlic salt 1 Tbsp. Dried Oregano 1 tsp – 1 Tbsp Cayenne pepper salt/pepper to taste |
Hot Damn It's Chili Time!
I don't care about football (much to my mother's consternation, she's a faithful follower of the Chiefs), but I do love superbowl commercials. Such excess! The money they spend on each millisecond of commercial is obscene, What's not to love?
I usually go to the Superbowl party my friend Angi throws where I drink beer, eat wicked food and watch the commercials. I talk through the football part, usually asking people about the food they brought and finding out what they're drinking. Hey, you would to if you hung out with the people I do. A few of the guys brew their own beer (including Angi's husband) and almost everyone cooks with love and abandon.
I've always thought chili was the perfect thing to bring to any football party and holy hot sauce do I have a great recipe. Hell no, I'm not modest about it -- I've been cultivating this beauty for years now. I am happy to share, though.
This is a thick, meaty chili with no beans and plenty of kick. To cool its temper reduce the amount of fresh chilies, ground cayenne pepper and red pepper flakes. When I make it I usually have 2 pots going, a spicy one and one without peppers (for the kids & wimps). It is one part Cincinnati, one part spicy Texas and one part Mexican mole.
Have a variety of toppings when you're ready to serve, I'm partial to: grated sharp cheddar cheese, sour cream, corn chips, diced onions and diced jalapeno peppers. Corn bread and beer are natural partners for this chli. Happy commercial watching!
Hot Damn Chili
3 pieces Bacon, chopped
1.5 lb. Top round cut into half-inch squares
½ C Flour
1 lb. Ground chuck
1 large Onion, chopped
5-6 cloves Garlic, crushed
1-3 Fresh jalapeno peppers, diced
1-2 Habanero chilies, diced (if you dare)
1 can Tomato paste (dissolved in ½ C warm water)
2 cans Diced tomatoes
2 C Water
1 Beer, any kind (or 1-1/2 C chicken stock)
2 Tbsp. Apple cider vinegar
6 Tbsp. Chili powder
2 tsp. Freshly ground pepper
2 tsp. Salt
2 tsp. Cinnamon
2 tsp. Ground cayenne pepper
2 tsp. Cumin
2 tsp. Red pepper flakes
1 tsp. Ground cloves
½ oz. Unsweetened baking chocolate, grated (1 square)
In a large soup pot cook bacon pieces over medium high heat until crisp, remove to a large bowl. Salt and pepper stew meat squares and toss with flour. Quickly sear stew meat on all sides then remove to the bowl with bacon. Cook ground beef, separating with potato masher or fork, remove to the meat bowl. Drain all but a few tablespoons of grease.
In the same soup pot sauté onion, garlic and peppers until fragrant and onions are translucent, 4-5 minutes. Add tomato paste dissolved in water, diced tomatoes, water, beer (or chicken stock) and vinegar. Stir with wooden spoon, scraping bits off the bottom. Add in all meats. Bring to boil.
Add spices and grated chocolate. Bring to boil then reduce to a simmer for 1 hour or more.
I usually go to the Superbowl party my friend Angi throws where I drink beer, eat wicked food and watch the commercials. I talk through the football part, usually asking people about the food they brought and finding out what they're drinking. Hey, you would to if you hung out with the people I do. A few of the guys brew their own beer (including Angi's husband) and almost everyone cooks with love and abandon.
I've always thought chili was the perfect thing to bring to any football party and holy hot sauce do I have a great recipe. Hell no, I'm not modest about it -- I've been cultivating this beauty for years now. I am happy to share, though.
This is a thick, meaty chili with no beans and plenty of kick. To cool its temper reduce the amount of fresh chilies, ground cayenne pepper and red pepper flakes. When I make it I usually have 2 pots going, a spicy one and one without peppers (for the kids & wimps). It is one part Cincinnati, one part spicy Texas and one part Mexican mole.
Have a variety of toppings when you're ready to serve, I'm partial to: grated sharp cheddar cheese, sour cream, corn chips, diced onions and diced jalapeno peppers. Corn bread and beer are natural partners for this chli. Happy commercial watching!
Hot Damn Chili
3 pieces Bacon, chopped
1.5 lb. Top round cut into half-inch squares
½ C Flour
1 lb. Ground chuck
1 large Onion, chopped
5-6 cloves Garlic, crushed
1-3 Fresh jalapeno peppers, diced
1-2 Habanero chilies, diced (if you dare)
1 can Tomato paste (dissolved in ½ C warm water)
2 cans Diced tomatoes
2 C Water
1 Beer, any kind (or 1-1/2 C chicken stock)
2 Tbsp. Apple cider vinegar
6 Tbsp. Chili powder
2 tsp. Freshly ground pepper
2 tsp. Salt
2 tsp. Cinnamon
2 tsp. Ground cayenne pepper
2 tsp. Cumin
2 tsp. Red pepper flakes
1 tsp. Ground cloves
½ oz. Unsweetened baking chocolate, grated (1 square)
In a large soup pot cook bacon pieces over medium high heat until crisp, remove to a large bowl. Salt and pepper stew meat squares and toss with flour. Quickly sear stew meat on all sides then remove to the bowl with bacon. Cook ground beef, separating with potato masher or fork, remove to the meat bowl. Drain all but a few tablespoons of grease.
In the same soup pot sauté onion, garlic and peppers until fragrant and onions are translucent, 4-5 minutes. Add tomato paste dissolved in water, diced tomatoes, water, beer (or chicken stock) and vinegar. Stir with wooden spoon, scraping bits off the bottom. Add in all meats. Bring to boil.
Add spices and grated chocolate. Bring to boil then reduce to a simmer for 1 hour or more.
Ritualistic
This week has been a busy one. I know you can relate. Early to work and more often than not my 5 o'clock has been pushed to 6 or 7. Sometimes on those nights a cup of hot tea fills the bill better than a Manhattan. After all, household chores have to get done sometime and if it's been a long day one drink leads to four.
Now, now, I know what you're thinking, "It's Friday afternoon and she's waxing on about a nice cuppa? Where's the cocktail talk, lady?"
But really, what I'm going on about is the ritual of 5 o'clock. The habitual steps you take to mentally walk away from the workday. What are those magical things that switch your brain from gnawing over TPS reports to slipping into relaxation?
My mother's best friend was a bank teller during the Mad Men era. This was the age of constricting foundation garments, torturous hair routines and heels for every occasion, including the grocery store. She always said her 5 o'clock ritual was literally stripping off the workday. The minute she walked in the door she would step out of the constraints of work and slide into the comforts of home.
While single and in the throes of my own era of mad men I came up with a little ritual that made me feel civilized and sane again. Living alone for the first time in ages and nursing one or another heartache was, well, disheartening. After my workday was over I would treat myself to a handful of quality crackers topped with good cheese, a glass of red wine and my new found love of jazz. Miles Davis', Cool Blues is still my ultimate home from work album.
Wayne and I use our 5 o'clock time to unwind from the day and check in on how the other's day went. Sure, we each get a few minutes to kvetch about this project or that issue, but it doesn't take long before our conversation transforms from mundane to fun. Our talk of what to have for dinner shifts to whom we'd love to invite over, then to vacations we want to take. Hell, there was one unseasonably warm, early spring 5 o'clock cocktail hour with Rob that turned into us all going to New Orleans for Jazzfest that weekend. Now that's a 5 o'clock ritual I could get used to.
So we want to know—what's your 5 o'clock ritual?
Now, now, I know what you're thinking, "It's Friday afternoon and she's waxing on about a nice cuppa? Where's the cocktail talk, lady?"
But really, what I'm going on about is the ritual of 5 o'clock. The habitual steps you take to mentally walk away from the workday. What are those magical things that switch your brain from gnawing over TPS reports to slipping into relaxation?
My mother's best friend was a bank teller during the Mad Men era. This was the age of constricting foundation garments, torturous hair routines and heels for every occasion, including the grocery store. She always said her 5 o'clock ritual was literally stripping off the workday. The minute she walked in the door she would step out of the constraints of work and slide into the comforts of home.
While single and in the throes of my own era of mad men I came up with a little ritual that made me feel civilized and sane again. Living alone for the first time in ages and nursing one or another heartache was, well, disheartening. After my workday was over I would treat myself to a handful of quality crackers topped with good cheese, a glass of red wine and my new found love of jazz. Miles Davis', Cool Blues is still my ultimate home from work album.
Wayne and I use our 5 o'clock time to unwind from the day and check in on how the other's day went. Sure, we each get a few minutes to kvetch about this project or that issue, but it doesn't take long before our conversation transforms from mundane to fun. Our talk of what to have for dinner shifts to whom we'd love to invite over, then to vacations we want to take. Hell, there was one unseasonably warm, early spring 5 o'clock cocktail hour with Rob that turned into us all going to New Orleans for Jazzfest that weekend. Now that's a 5 o'clock ritual I could get used to.
So we want to know—what's your 5 o'clock ritual?
Bitter, Party of One
Emphasis on the party. Just a dash of bitters makes a Manhattan happy and a Manhattan, in turn, makes a certain bourbon-swilling girl we know happy. The blend of good bourbon, sweet vermouth and a touch of bitters is guaranteed to take the edge off the week.
So let's talk about bitters. Before my friend Stephanie fell in love with a musician and ran away with him to Nashville she used to regale us with stories of the trips to New Orleans her cocktail-loving parents and their friends used to take and how they would bring back boxes of heir beloved Peychaud's cocktail bitters.
I was intrigued. So when fate, in the shape of our favorite bartender Rob Ruter, took Wayne and me to New Orleans for Jazzfest I stocked up on a few bottles and instantly became sweet on Peychaud's. It's lighter than Angostura's and a bit sweeter, too. Like seemingly everything in New Orleans, Peychaud's has a long history. It's been around since 1793 and there are still remaining members of the Peychaud family living in The Big Easy. The Sazerac Company distributes this cocktail bitters (the Sazerac is another ultra boozy New Orleans drink tradition, but that's a story for another day).
If you want to try Peychaud's bitters, come on over for a Manhattan. Or, you can always order it online at www.sazerac.com. Once you're there, take some time to look around--it's a fun website.
Check out this Tasting Table link (http://tastingtable.com/ecs/4779.htm?sid=521461). It's what got me started thinking about bitters today. Seems like more and more mixologists are turning bar kitchens into laboratories and mixing up batches of their own bitters. Being supreme entrepreneurs a few have even bottled their elixirs and are selling them. Cool. I want to turn my kitchen into a bitters making lab now, too.
Happy Friday, people! Go find a drink somewhere cozy and finish this week off right.
So let's talk about bitters. Before my friend Stephanie fell in love with a musician and ran away with him to Nashville she used to regale us with stories of the trips to New Orleans her cocktail-loving parents and their friends used to take and how they would bring back boxes of heir beloved Peychaud's cocktail bitters.
I was intrigued. So when fate, in the shape of our favorite bartender Rob Ruter, took Wayne and me to New Orleans for Jazzfest I stocked up on a few bottles and instantly became sweet on Peychaud's. It's lighter than Angostura's and a bit sweeter, too. Like seemingly everything in New Orleans, Peychaud's has a long history. It's been around since 1793 and there are still remaining members of the Peychaud family living in The Big Easy. The Sazerac Company distributes this cocktail bitters (the Sazerac is another ultra boozy New Orleans drink tradition, but that's a story for another day).
If you want to try Peychaud's bitters, come on over for a Manhattan. Or, you can always order it online at www.sazerac.com. Once you're there, take some time to look around--it's a fun website.
Happy Friday, people! Go find a drink somewhere cozy and finish this week off right.
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