Blood Orange Bitters

February 26th, 2018 § 0 comments § permalink

Blood Orange Bitters are a magical addition to cocktails produced by a company called Stirrings. HG buys it at the Kokoman wine and liquor store in Pojoaque, a few miles from HG/BSK’s residence. Kokoman has a big selection of bitters as well as an encyclopedic range of beers (domestic and foreign), fine wines, single malt Scotch, etc. Yes, there’s more to New Mexico drinking and dining than Budweiser, tacos and green chile sauce. HG uses the Blood Orange Bitters in a self invented, pre-dinner cocktail HG has dubbed “The Gerald.” It is composed of freshly squeezed lime or lemon juice, vodka, the bitters and a splash of Topo Chico sparkling water. Served on the rocks. Stimulating beverage. The Stirrings company also recommends adding the bitters to the usual whiskey and sweet vermouth for a superior Manhattan. They also suggest putting a sugar cube in a flute, soaking it in the bitters and adding chilled Champagne. Sounds nice. HG will try it with Prosecco.

Hats and Girdles

March 6th, 2013 § 3 comments § permalink

When HG was growing up, men wore hats. Fedoras for the most part and Homburgs for the rich old guys. There was a switch to Panamas (real and faux) during the summer. Some dudes wore straw hats (known as skimmers or katies.) Among kids there was a New York City legend that you could knock, with impunity, a straw hat right off a man’s head if it was worn after Labor Day. (HG Never saw it happen). And, women wore girdles, thus creating the anatomic oddity — uni-buttocks. Only very racy damsels jettisoned girdles for garter belts. (This was HG’s experience. Admittedly, a quite limited experience but not for want of effort.)

It seems men’s hats are making a modest comeback. SJ, always in style, has been seen sporting an attractive fedora. Girdles, fortunately, are at one with the corset and the buggy whip. Gone forever. Cocktails seemed to be disappearing a few years ago in favor of wimpy glasses of white wine or even wimpier glasses of mineral water. Now, hip diners all over the country are demanding creative pre-dinner libations. And, they seem to be willing to pay the price. Are women still cocktail addicts? They were in HG’s young manhood (there were even cocktail dresses designed specifically for the Happy Hour). Many times HG happily observed suburban ladies in Sardi’s knocking off two (or even three) Manhattans or Martinis during a pre-theater matinee lunch. And, they could meet the challenge of alcohol. Lots of smiles. Lots of laughs. But, definitely not blotto. Which was more than HG could say about the Martini swigging macho guys falling off stools at Sardi’s bar.