The French 75

French75Proposed by: Jonathan

Reviewed by: David

The first order of business is this week’s drink, the French 75. Like many of the cocktails we have tried there is some dispute as to its origin. The best information points to Paris and a drink named after an artillery weapon because of its hard hitting conclusion and that is the one I like the best. Clearly dating to at least the early part of the 20th century, the French 75 is named after a 75mm howitzer and is a mix of spirit, sweet, citrus, and sparkling wine. There is some disagreement, or at least a difference in taste, about whether it should be made with gin or cognac. Here is the recipe that I decided to use:

1.5 ounce Cognac

.5 ounce simple syrup

.5 ounce fresh lemon juice

Sparkling wine (I used Cava this time)

The idea of proposing a sparkling wine based drink is that we are in that holiday period of drinks that are part of gatherings and celebrations. This drink fills that role wonderfully. Not as basic as a simple pour of bubbly, the French 75 adds a complexity through the cognac and along with that a kick. It may be a factor of suggestion, but the drinks with effervescence always seem to cry out for sipping lest they hit with the quick power of the aforementioned artillery piece.

A secondary purpose of suggesting this drink was to introduce the concept of toasts. The subject would take far more than a simple blog post to explore, but as with the drink, tis the season for such things and there are some basics worth exploring.

Toasts are definitely cultural, and any discussion should include the customs and etiquette that accompany them. Certain countries, think Ireland, are famous for toasts of all types while others, Russia in this case, are cited for a toast before each drink. It can be considered bad taste to toast with water, to not drink after toasting, or to miss out on touching glasses with each person toasting. One of my favorite tidbits is that toasting may have started with mistrust and the partial sharing of drinks to be sure that none of the drinks were poisoned. In fact, it is said that the touching of glasses, the clinking that has become spoken in many cultures, is a sign of trust the drink need not be shared to ensure the absence of poison. The best part of almost every cultural tradition of toasting is the recognition that the sharing of drinks is the sharing of company. That is something I always consider, even if David and I share virtually, as I try each week’s drink.

Almost everyone has a favorite toast even if they do not know the origin. I have always liked the simple “a votre sante” which is most basically translated as “to your health”. Similarly many offer “salud” or “health” to say the same thing, which is the common wish that your fellow drinker experience good health or good fortune. Na Zdrovie is another well-known example of wishing “to your health” although most associate it with incorrectly with Russian toasts (it does not actually translate that way) instead of the Polish Na zdrowie where it actually is a wish for health.

My favorite toast has always been “here’s mud in your eye” although, and probably because, I have no idea what that really means. There are biblical explanations (Jesus rubbing clay in the blind man’s eyes to restore his health/sight), historic (soldiers in muddy trenches), and agricultural (used by farmers for no good darn reason that I have heard). The best explanation, or at least the one I like the best, is that it originates from horse racing. The idea is that the lead horse has clear racing and those that follow have the mud of the race course flying in their eyes as they trail. An alternate, but similar, explanation is that it was a way of saying “so long” before downing the drink and taking off on horse with mud flying back at the other drinkers. No matter what the explanation – here’s mud in your eye!

french 752Here’s David’s Review:

Though I’d never describe myself as a “foodie,” I’ve eaten in enough fancy restaurants to know that simplicity and sophistication often arrive together. A good chef makes salad, asparagus, mashed potatoes and seared scallops so delicious, you may feel as if you’ve never really consumed them before.

I feel that way about the French 75, which, with just four ingredients, offers a bright, refreshing, and novel cocktail. Though the lemon juice makes this drink somewhat reminiscent of a gimlet or even a daiquiri, the cognac gives it more warmth and depth, and the sparkling wine (we used prosecco) gives it a light, celebratory lift.

It seems the perfect accompaniment to hor d’oeuvres and conversation, sweeter than white wine and yet tart enough not to be cloying. After last week’s dense, eggy, homestyle cocktail, this one seemed especially buoyant, more nectar than batter. Using no spices or bitters, the French 75 is direct and natural, the perfect answer to all the heavy food and buttery, cinnamon-y, nutmeg-y, clove-y flavors proliferating this time of year.

Online, like Jonathan, I found recipes that called for gin rather than cognac, but, to me, gin would only scuttle the drink. Introducing botanical and bitter elements would certainly make its flavor profile more complex, but simplicity seems the soul of this cocktail’s appeal.

As Jonathan says, this drink gets its name from a French field gun because it’s supposed to possess a similar kick, but I’m not sure it has much in common with artillery. Quite the contrary, the drink went down very easily. We had it Christmas afternoon just before the meal and regretted that we only had enough lemons for each of us to have one, as the French 75 seems something you could drink a lot of.

While my experience with champagne tells me having many might be a bad idea, you may find your judgment slipping if you like this drink as much as I did.

On the matter of toasts, I received a book devoted to the topic in my stocking, a suitable accompaniment to this week’s drink. Among the information offered is a list of toasts by nationality. My favorites, strictly by pronunciation (because I have no idea of meaning) are: Gan Bei (Gan BAY: Chinese), Hulu pau (Hoo-lee pow: Hawaiian), Heko (hee-ko: Swahilii), and Vô (Voh: Vietnamese). Please don’t ask me any more—they just sound cool.

Jonathan’s Take: The classics, and French 75 is certainly one, never seem to disappoint. Consider adding it to your New Years traditions.

David’s Take: Here’s one I’ll remember and repeat for celebrations ahead.

Next Week (proposed by David):

My proposals haven’t always been so successful, so I’ve decided to embrace being the bold and quirky cocktailian brother. I’m sending Jonathan to the liquor store for Aquavit (a Scandinavian caraway flavored spirit) to create a drink named after Rosalind Russell, the actress most famous for His Girl Friday and the movie version of Auntie Mame. She also married a Danish-American, which may be where she developed a taste for Aquavit, a rather odd ingredient. I hope everyone is up for a challenge—who knows what to expect, besides fun, fun.

Advertisements

The Tom and Jerry

photo-55Proposed by: David

Reviewed by: Jonathan

Batter. It’s a big word in Tom and Jerry recipes, used unapologetically and/or innocently. Like someone saying “Shut up,” when my parents trained me to avoid the expression, I don’t hear batter so innocently. Who drinks batter?

Still, every person I’ve met from Wisconsin talks enthusiastically about holiday parties accompanied by giant bowls of Tom and Jerry and all the hijinks that ensued. So I had to try. Besides, Eggnog is cliché and Tom and Jerry exotic… in a Midwestern way… if that’s not a contradiction in terms.

The history of the Tom and Jerry also intrigued me. You may think it comes from the cartoon, but no. And it isn’t from “Professor” Jerry Thomas, who wrote a famous bar guide, How to Mix Drinks in 1862. Its history goes all the way back to 1821 when it appeared in Life in London, or The Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn Esq. and his Elegant Friend Corinthian Tom. Quite a title.

How Jerry Esquire and Corinthian Tom traveled from London to the American Midwest is mysterious, but the Tom and Jerry is so popular here that you can find Tom and Jerry punch sets in secondhand stores and, in Wisconsin at least, purchase the mix in bottles. I’ve read that you have to have truly frigid conditions to enjoy a Tom and Jerry properly, that it’s a warmer-upper and a lips-loosener for stiff Midwesterners. The stories I’ve heard about Tom and Jerry parties confirm that. One involved a shattered toilet.

I only shared the drink with my family, and I have to report that we were no more raucous than usual, though, if you look closely at the photograph of the drink above, you’ll see my daughter was prematurely ebullient.

Though I worried about this batter stuff, I recognized that creating it was key to the drink and that, without it, you’d have no Tom or Jerry:

The Recipe (for Four):

3 eggs, separated into whites and yolks

3 tablespoons powdered sugar

½ teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon allspice

½ teaspoon ground cloves

4 oz. Brandy or Cognac

4 oz. Dark Rum

Nutmeg to garnish

Whip the egg whites until just barely (and maybe not quite) stiff. Mix the yolks, the sugar, and the spices in a separate bowl and then fold them into the egg whites with a spatula. This mixture is the Tom and Jerry “batter.”

In each cup or mug, add 2 tablespoons of batter, the alcohol, and then fill the rest with hot milk. My wife mentioned that the steamed milk from an espresso machine might be ideal here, but alas, we don’t own such fancy stuff.

The drink should be served with a dusting of nutmeg and hoisted to celebrate the season.

Here’s Jonathan’s Review:

jtop2The initial thought that comes to mind when reading “Tom and Jerry” is of a house cat and the rodent who outsmarts him. This cocktail, as has been explained, has nothing to do with that. That said, however, I know a lot more about that eternal chase and frustration than this drink. I had never even heard of it nor had I ever tried to mix a cocktail that required the basic makings of eggnog.

There is something about concocting a cocktail that makes it both fun and rewarding, and this one requires quite a bit of concocting. I actually had an assistant in my youngest son who helped with ingredients, preparation and some slight criticism of my not quite hard peak whipped egg whites (who knew the skills that are required for serious bartending). The challenge to this cocktail was in that making of an eggnog. Whipped egg whites mixed with blended yolks and spices and finally topped with hot milk. And don’t forget the brandy and rum before it’s all done.

The end result was good but lacked something to make it memorable. It probably didn’t help that Charlotte is having record warm weather instead of the hard cold of Wisconsin and Minnesota where the drink is popular. This is a drink that yelled out to be the warmer that drives out bone chilling cold not the follow up to sweating over whipped eggs in front of an open kitchen window in December.

Jonathan’s take: Loved the pictures that accompanied the recipes, but this one just left me ready for a long winter’s nap.

David’s Take: When I was younger and a less metabolically challenged person, I relished the quarts of eggnog that appeared in our refrigerator and enjoyed them even without alcohol, but something must have changed. These thick Christmas drinks seem a lot.

Next week (proposed by Jonathan):

You would think that almost six months in, I would be running out of ideas but it seems the opposite. New Year’s Eve will follow soon after next weekend’s drink so the proposal will be celebration appropriate. In addition, it’s a great time to talk about toasts. I hope someone besides me and David read this and that folks will use it as an excuse to offer their favorite toast as a comment.

 

Infused Vodka

20131215_163145Proposed by: Jonathan

Reviewed by: David

The popularity of vodka is no doubt related to its neutrality. The most basic of spirits, it is almost entirely alcohol, ethanol specifically, and water. It can be made from a variety of sugars—complex or otherwise. Though potatoes may be considered the classic food to supply the ethanol after yeast digestion, the majority of vodkas are made from grains like wheat, barley, rye, corn and sorghum. Other vodkas are produced using fruits including the popular grape and even exotics such as horseradish, sugar beets and prickly pear cactus.

There are also a huge variety of brands and producers that cover the globe. It seems like there is a vodka made in every country and for that matter in every setting. Moonshine is nothing more than a homemade vodka fermented and distilled then left at higher alcohol content by skipping the “blooming” of added water. The loyalty to certain brands within that variety of producers is a wonder of marketing. Some years ago, I remember watching a magazine style news show that tested vodka brand loyalty through a blind taste test. Not surprisingly, people had difficulty identifying their brand, and, in many cases, their top choice in the taste test was not the one they ordered or bought the most often.

The idea this week was to take that neutral spirit and create unique flavors beyond those so prevalent in the market. Two of the flavors were not so much suggested as they were prescribed – vanilla/cardamom (a nod to The Splendid Table and Lynne Rosetto Kasper) and orange/chipotle. The third flavor combination was left as a wild card for each of us and the proposal included a challenge to use one of the flavored vodkas in a cocktail.

I knew that the infused vodkas I created would start with a classic vodka, but the third flavor variation was a difficult decision. I used a Polish vodka, Luksusowa, which is made with potatoes, although I need to be honest and admit there is no way I could identify it if given a blind taste test. My search for flavor ideas led me to the familiar that differed very little from what is on the mass market to the bizarre and there was no lacking for suggestions. One Pinterest site (I don’t pin myself but viewed it) I found had no less than 54 links to different ideas. The final choice was lemongrass/ginger candy.

It is a little embarrassing to admit that after all that reading, consideration, and some amount of consternation, my final cocktails did not include the wildcard choice. The classic White Russian, and a variant of it, were the cocktails of choice. The first version used 1.5 ounces each of the orange/chipotle vodka and Kahlua topped with two ounces of half and half shaken to provide a froth. A second version was much more seasonal and was a mix of 1.5 ounce parts of the vanilla/cardamom and Kahlua topped with frothed eggnog. The latter was the better of the two, but both benefited greatly from the infused flavors.

Some observations on infusing. It does not take long to impart the flavors of the additives to the vodka and bitter flavors, like the chipotle and orange, need to be monitored to make sure they don’t sit too long before straining them out. Even with the standard 40% alcohol content of vodka, it is a good idea to make sure you start with really clean vessels and to let it infuse in the refrigerator. The final product now resides in my freezer since they are flavorful enough to serve as a simple syrupy shot to party guests. As I suggested while channeling Martha, these would make nice Christmas gifts in a decorative bottle with written cocktail suggestion. Finally, I was going to use this concept to introduce the subject of classic toasts, but with David’s permission will save that for the end of this month.

gypsyHere’s David’s “Review”:

“Infused” means the alcohol picks up the flavor of whatever it contacts. How much time that take may vary, but it’s bound to happen. You could put a used gym sock in a mason jar with vodka and a transformation would occur. As Jonathan reported, the research I did online suggested so many options I had trouble choosing—there was basil-infused vodka and gummy bear-infused vodka and chai and horseradish and honeysuckle and milk and peanut butter cup and tomato…. and doughnut.

My own choice of infusion was Earl Grey and toasted marshmallows, and, within a few minutes, the marshmallows were gone and the vodka smelled and looked like tea. I’m not sure of the chemistry, but the process seems almost instant. I fretted over how long to keep the chipotle or vanilla in the jar, but a few tastes along the way told me—take out the cardamom now, take out the peppers, leave in the orange peels for a bit longer.

The choice of cocktail presented another challenge. No drink recipes call for Earl Grey infused vodka, so coming up with a good possibility required finding complementary flavors, a taste that might meld in some way. At first, I considered mixing each vodka with the same ingredient—grenadine seemed promising—but decided instead any ambitious cocktailian (not-so-saavy as he may be) wouldn’t look for so generic a solution.

I made a Gypsy cocktail, which combines a double part of vodka and a single part of Benedictine. I’ve grown fond of Benedictine during this cocktailian experiment. It appeals to me that, at any given moment, only three people know its recipe. I also like the taste, which is sweet yet herbal, complex and warm.

With Earl Grey, it was too much. The two forces fought and only a bitter stalemate remained. The marshmallow cowered behind the other flavors. The golden brown color lied—nothing mellow here, move along.

vodkasThe second Gypsy, however, delivered much more vividly. To start, cardamom and vanilla seem friendly and, combined with Benedictine, the mixture seemed amiable. I’ve said before that the best cocktails seem to hide their individual parts, and that certainly applied with Benedictine and vanilla-cardamom. Had I tried it without knowing its components, I might have had trouble guessing.

All in all, I enjoyed this process. I’m a little scared of the chipotle-orange vodka, but I intend to use it. I’m wondering now if vodka is my only choice, if some other spirit, rye perhaps, might welcome a friendly complementary flavor for infusing.

David’s take: I’m one of those people who believe vodka is one step from chemical alcohol—flavorless and potent. Infusing is one half-step more toward other spirits.

Jonathan’s take: The infusions really make me want to try making my own bitters, but for now I think I will just keep mixing what I made with eggnog.

Next Week (proposed by David):

It’s time to start the holidays in earnest, and I’m going to propose a Tom and Jerry, which isn’t named after the cartoon characters but has a much more venerable history, especially in the Midwest where it’s the favorite holiday libation instead of egg nog. Plus it’s served warm, a new adventure for us.

The Rum Maple Flip

rmflipProposed by: David

Reviewed by: Jonathan

First, confession: I’ve really no right to call this drink a “flip” because technically it isn’t. A flip includes spirits, sugar, no milk or cream (which would make it egg nog) and, most importantly, an entire egg. I’m only using the white, meaning this cocktail might be called a “fizz.”

However, I’ll keep the name because the modern flip is nothing like the original flip that, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, first appears in print in 1685. That flip had no eggs and included rum, and sugar, and beer. It required submerging a red hot poker in the cup. So, technically, no flip is a true flip. Mine is no less true than any other. So there.

I could use a whole egg. I’ve seen Rocky, so I shouldn’t be afraid. But the essential element of an egg white cocktail is breaking up their proteins by shaking them until they accommodate moisture and air. In less scientific, more gastronomical terms, the white adds a little body and airiness. The fat in a yolk adds gravity, weight, making a drink rich and smooth. That may sound good, but people get squeamish enough about an egg white, and, well, I have seen Rocky.

Some sites split flips into royals (using the entire egg), goldens (yolk only), and silvers (egg whites), so I suppose I could call this cocktail a “Silver Rum Maple Flip,” but that’s too long and my artistic side doesn’t like the clashing colors.

Flips were revived from historical obscurity by Jerry Thomas’ 1862 work, How to Mix Drinks or The Bon Vivant’s Companion. He was first to add egg, suggest a flip could be cold, and create variation with different spirits. In recent years, flips have appeared all over the web and, were you to ask for one in a bar, the bar tender might not look at you strangely… just ask you if you’re sure. You might expect some beer, however, as many flips are beer cocktails.

My version of the flip eschews beer but adds a couple of crucial secondary ingredients, sherry to echo the aged rum, and maple syrup as the sweetener. I hoped to create something not quite holiday-y and yet wintery. I hoped to convince my wife egg whites are okay and add something interesting and important.

The recipe:

maplerunflip2 oz. aged rum

1 oz. medium dry sherry

.5 oz. maple syrup

1 egg white

nutmeg for garnish

Separate the egg white, discard the yolk. Shake the egg white by itself until frothy (30-60 seconds), then add ice and all the other ingredients except nutmeg, shake again. Then strain the drink into a martini or coupe glass and dust very lightly with nutmeg. Serve.

Cocktail history is fun. Forbearers and legacies, early incarnations and current renovations lend each drink distinctive character but, whatever they’re called, you hope they taste good.

Jonathan’s Review:

The week began with an internet search on how to use raw eggs safely in drinks. Even with the realization that a large part of this blog is our desire to try new things, it was still a little disconcerting to use them in a cocktail. The information that is available, though, not only made it seem reasonable but added to the intrigue and interest in the proposed drink.
This is not our first drink to use rum, or a variation, in a cocktail which left white rum, dark rum, British/Naval rum or cachaca as choices already available in my expanding bar. That in mind the recipe called for aged rum so I used that as an excuse to add to the collection when I picked up the medium dry sherry. It seems fairly subtle but that choice really made a difference.

x
One of the challenges of using raw eggs is the multiple steps to building a cocktail. First there is a dry shake with just the egg, or in some recipes the egg and all other ingredients. This recipe called for the former, then a shake with all liquids, and finally with ice before straining into the glass. That was all well and good for the first one I made, but with the second the freshly washed shaker decided to fly out of my hands just as I was finishing. The result was a kitchen sprayed with cocktail that my wife was nice enough to clean as I not so happily prepared another.

x
The final product was well worth all of that tribulation. The complex mix of the aged rum, sherry and maple was completely unique among the cocktails that we have tried. During my research on using raw eggs I had read that some mixologists eschew using eggs as being lazy in building a drink with body, but I don’t know how else you could create that combination of a drink being thick yet light. The final touch that really added to the drink was the slight spice of the grated nutmeg. It worked as much for the initial aroma as it did a taste element.

x
Jonathan’s take: Body, taste and spice all worked to provide a cocktail unlike any other I have ever tried. It didn’t seem possible while building it, but this one is more than worth the effort required.

David’s take: If no one said, “Hey, there’s an uncooked egg white in this drink.” I might not know or worry. Sometimes we just have say, “What? Me worry?”

x
Next week (proposed by Jonathan):

Not to sound too much like Martha Stewart (a cocktail aficionado in her own right), but this week’s proposal could have the added benefit of being options for homemade Christmas gifts if they work. The idea is to create three infused vodkas to drink alone or as part of a cocktail. I’ve suggested to David that we both try three combinations: vanilla bean/cardamom, chipotle/orange and a wild card for each of us to choose. The final part of this proposal is that we each need to create a cocktail using one of our vodkas.

Cranberry Pomegranate Sangria

photo-51Proposed by: Jonathan

Reviewed by: David

What exactly is a cocktail? Seems like an odd question after so many weeks and proposed drinks, but it is important this week. The most basic definition is that it is a spirit combined with at least two other ingredients. Other descriptions expand that and suggest that it is at least one spirit plus a bitter element and a sweet one. What is clear is that all of our proposals thus far can be considered cocktails.

The reason for exploring this idea is that the drink of the week is a Fall sangria. A number of weeks ago I figured out that I would be the proposer for Thanksgiving weekend and started thinking about something that could be made for a crowd. For most Thanksgiving meals, I have tried to find some new way to use cranberries so the proposal had to be some kind of cranberry based sangria. The final thoughts were that the drink needed to be less spirituous than some of the previous proposals and of course complement the Thanksgiving meal.

My question for David when the idea of sangria came up, though, was whether it qualified as cocktail. It includes at least two spirits, although I struggle with the idea that wine or even beer qualifies as a spirit because of the lower alcohol content, sweet and borderline bitter elements so I suppose in its own way does.

There are so many sangria recipes that it was less about choosing one than combining different ideas to create something that met all goals. It also seems that Bobby Flay, of restaurant and Food Network fame, is the creator of many of the sangria variations available in the public domain. The recipe I used is a slight variation on his Cranberry Pomegranate Sangria:

20131128_164130-1

Nothing left but the fruit!

2 bottles red wine (I used Beaujolais Noveau since it is November)
2 cups cranberry juice
1 cup applejack brandy
½ cup triple sec liqueur
Cranberry simple syrup (added a cup of cranberries to a half cup of simple syrup and simmered until they began to split)
1 cup orange juice
Sparkling pomegranate juice
Cranberries, orange slices and chopped Granny Smith apples

Combine all ingredients, except the sparkling juice, and refrigerate for at least six hours. Add the sparkling juice before serving.

It could have been the craziness of hosting Thanksgiving or the popularity of the sangria, but I forgot to take a picture until after all but the fruit was left.

I also completely understand why there are so many recipes as the concept is so basic that it lends itself to variations by wine, liquor, fruit, juices and as in this case by season. I wonder what a President’s Day sangria would be like?

Here’s David’s review:

Adam Carolla markets a product called “Mangria,” a version of Sangria that boosts the alcoholic content by adding vodka to the fruit and red wine. The assumption, I suppose, is that Sangria is a genteel drink, not suitable for the hard liquor crowd.

Though I’m no manly-man, I had similar impressions before trying this sangria. It’s a drink for parties, a nearly-punch alternative to beer and wine and, just as Jonathan said, questionably a serious cocktail. Though you can sometimes order sangria in a restaurant, it’s often a special—because they’ve made a mess o’ sangria—and no one I know makes a single serving the way they do martinis or Manhattans.

That’s too bad, based on this recipe. Besides combining some prominent seasonal flavors, like the pairing of orange and cranberry juice, this cocktail’s addition of pomegranate and some fizz made it celebratory yet fruitful, a good accompaniment to a Thanksgiving meal. I let the sangria mix overnight as instructed by the recipe, which effectively made the parts overlap until, like many good cocktails, the ingredients became difficult to distinguish.

When Jonathan proposed this choice, I worried about the red wine, as most wine coolers or, especially mulled wine, seem too rich and not actually refreshing. I wish I’d thought of using Beaujolais as Jonathan did—I used Shiraz—as it might have made the drink even fresher, but Shiraz seems a spicy red to me and added that element without introducing the cinnamon or cloves that might have been overkill.

As I have for all recipes calling for triple sec, I used Mandarine Napoleon, and it’s quickly becoming my favorite liquor. It’s not at all overpowering and, being a little different from regular orange in flavor, I suspect it worked almost the way the orange rind on the slices did, a slightly—pleasantly—bitter undertone.

One quibble: I wish I’d had the same snazzy system of serving this drink that Jonathan did, a container with a tap at the bottom. We made ours in a pitcher, and, while it was a pretty pitcher, the cranberries kept plopping into people’s glasses. When I reached the bottom and looked at the remaining berries, I had the same thought I have every Thanksgiving. Who the hell ever thought of eating these things? I’m not sure what the fresh cranberries might contribute, as they looked exactly the way they did when I put them in. Though they decorated well, they hardly seemed necessary. If Cranberry Pomegranate Sangria becomes a Thanksgiving tradition in my house, I’ll leave the cranberries out… or substitute something actually edible.

And I’ll make more… as with Jonathan, it was gone before I even had a chance to take a decent photograph. Oh well, that may be the best recommendation of all.

David’s Take: a refreshing and celebratory addition to a wonderful meal.

x

Jonathan’s take: This will be a Thanksgiving tradition. If it’s not there will be some unhappy guests.

Next Week (Proposed by David):

I teach a Shakespeare course at school and have run into some odd drinks in my reading. One is a flip, which, though it doesn’t go by that name, has evolved over time to describe a class of drinks involving a spirit, eggs (I will use egg whites), and spirit. I haven’t decided which flip to try yet, but I’ve settled on rum as the spirit of choice.