drinking problems (one)

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our home bar.

first (and firmly): my habit is to relabel ‘problems’ as ‘opportunities’, but in the realm of alcohol, that doesn’t work. the surest way to know you have a drinking problem is that you seek drinking opportunities. if that’s you, then click on elsewhere; our premise today is that while measured drinking is convivial, being a drunk is loathsome.

first boundary in place, we can look at drinking as part of a healthy and happy life. a tot, a snort, a dram– no matter what you call it (and after sex and money, alcohol has prompted more slang than any other human realm) having a drink is a pleasure. the best way to increase that pleasure is not through greater intake, but with more care, consideration, and confidence.  here are some lessons for the bar. . .

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how we know it’s 6:30.

embrace the ritual.

jb and i love our twilight transitional cocktail moment. most days we sit down together at about 6:30, drinks in hand, and sort out the problems of the world. we rarely have more than one, but our pour averages 4 ounces. we are big guys, and this seems the right amount for a feeling of light expansiveness, without clumsiness or fog. after 45 minutes we move onto cooking; the prospect of flame and knives keeps us in bounds.

name your poison.

adults should have a favorite drink. this is not hard, but seems to produce anxiety. so– first choose among these five basic spirits: vodka, gin, rum, tequila and whiskey. if you’ve chosen one of the first four, skip ahead. if you’ve chosen whiskey: first, congratulations; now go deeper.

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we stopped by the wild turkey distillery back in the fall.

there are five types of whiskey, four (scotch, bourbon, irish, and canadian) based on geography and one (rye) named for its main ingredient. an aside:

seeing how things are made is inherently interesting, so a few months back, jb and i stopped by the wild turkey distillery in lawrenceburg, kentucky. we know now that despite the (massive) machinery, bourbon-making is still intimately connected to nature and weather and heritage, and relies on the highly trained taste buds of old men who wear both belts and suspenders. we learned that there are more barrels of whiskey in kentucky (5.3 million) than there are people (4.4 million). we liked those odds and are now clear where we’ll head come the apocalypse. knowledge is power.

i digress. if whiskey is your thing, taste across its spectrum. this is not a hardship assignment, but is also not one night’s work. ask your bartender to guide you toward lesser known favorites. i do this once in a while, and it’s how i met johnny drum.

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johnny drum, in his native setting (on the bar at feast in louisville).

the nice people at louisville’s ‘feast‘ (a well-stocked dive bar with really good barbecue) are not playing. when i asked them to pour a bourbon that best balances taste and price, a hand went right to the bottle:

johnny drum. hard to find/available by mail order/worth the bother. as i said: an adult can name their poison. you’re welcome.

stock a decent bar.

though we have our defaults, jb and i don’t let custom dull our palates. when it comes to mixology, we mix it up, and that requires a decent home bar. setting one up happens over time, as some essentials are expensive. pop over to 12 bottle bar for sensible guidance. for everything but martinis, we use various sizes of the same basic glassware (it’s nice that these are tempered glass). big ice cubes are smart. googling the phrase ’50 classic cocktails’ led us to a delightful few months of experiments, some new favorites (the sidecar! the rusty nail!) and to the maraschino cherry conundrum.

maraschino cherries are unsettling, but a manhattan is the pits without them. don’t buy the expensive imported ones, unless you have too many twenty dollar bills. and for god’s sake, don’t get the cheap, goopy neon ones. blanch two pints of  pitted sour cherries in salt water. drain and rinse well. bring two cups maraschino liquor and the juice of half a lemon to boil. turn off heat, add cherries and let cool. fills a quart jar. will outlast your fridge.

go further

the greatest drinking song ever? no contest: ‘moon over alabama’ by brecht and weill. if you wonder what i’d like for christmas, a copy of the 1982  bowie single (with brel’s ‘amsterdam’ on the flip side) will do nicely.

the kentucky bourbon trail winds through some of the prettiest countryside anywhere. white wooden fences. exposed limestone layers. grasses blue and green. bourbon. stop the car. stop the presses. just stop.

(next time: day drinking, the perfect party bar, and what never to do with a drink in your hand.)