by Ravinder Kingra
This is the first column of many that I'll be writing for Accidental Vegetables. Each week or so, I'll provide readers with a cocktail recipe and some musings on the finer points of boozy quaffs.

Cocktails & Ice. The former rendered nigh unpalatable without the latter. You can never have too much ice in your freezer, especially when a party looms on the calendar. And the ice shouldn’t be the kind you buy at the 7-11 or the grocery store. That ice has a lot more surface area and therefore melts quicker, watering down drinks in the process. Use the largest ice cubes you can and make sure they are frozen solid. If you don’t have that glorious contraption known as the automatic ice maker you can stockpile ice in a plastic bag or Tupperware container that you keep in the freezer.

Unless a drink has a carbonated component (i.e. gin & tonic, dark & stormy, etc.) I always use a shaker. I am not a member of that crackpot club that believes shaking drinks “bruises the alcohol.” It is true that a shaken drink will be a bit cloudy, but a perfectly clear martini makes me think of rubbing alcohol. Shaking results in a thoroughly blended and chilled concoction; with a slight frothiness into which one can sink one’s teeth. I tend to shake cocktails for at least 20 seconds. The shaker frosts over and the fingers start to go numb, but a small towel enlisted as a shaker cozy will spare the bartender some discomfort.

THE BABY SADIE

Named for my niece. Yes, my niece. No, I don’t think it in bad taste to name a cocktail after a tiny little child. When I heard I was going to be an uncle I decided a drink was in order...to celebrate the momentous news, steady the nerves, stop the tears of joy streaming down my face, and so on and so forth. Celebration indeed.

4 oz. bourbon
2 oz cointreau or triple sec
2 oz freshly squeezed lemon juice
½ teaspoon vanilla
vanilla sugar (optional)

Mix all ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Add ice. Shake until very cold. Strain into frozen martini glasses rimmed with vanilla sugar, if using. Enjoy.

p.s. To make vanilla sugar, add 1 cup of sugar and a one inch piece of vanilla bean to a food processor. Process for a minute or two, until the vanilla has been chopped into tiny little pieces. You can store any extra sugar in an airtight container in your pantry for months and months.

Yields 2 cocktails

So there I was, entrusted by kith and kin to create a libation to whet the whistles gathered for a Christmas fête. When saddled with such responsibility one can find oneself lost in a sea of flips and fizzes, slings and sours. But as Confucius say[sic], “start simple.” At least I think that’s what he meant when he mentioned something about a cricket learning to walk before it could run or a mighty oak tree starting life as an acorn or seed or some such thing. With that in mind I chose as a starting point that archetypal tipple, the martini. It is a simple yet profound mixture (in varying ratios) of gin and dry vermouth; its detractors may be under the impression that it is a mixture (in varying ratios) of paint thinner and jet fuel. I wanted to create something with a touch of sweetness; something smooth as velvet.

Whilst staring at the liquor cabinet I had what alcoholics might call a moment of clarity. I had an idea. I reached for the cocktail shaker and into said shaker deposited a splash of the Clear Creek Williams Pear brandy and a three ponies (ounces) of gin. Filling the shaker with ice I proceeded to shake vigorously for 20 seconds. I strained the mixture into an ice-cold martini glass and took a sip. An amazing, alchemical phenomenon had occurred. The brandy had somehow coaxed from the gin a subtle sweetness. It was well rounded and smooth. It was a revelation.

But a nameless one. For a few days the drink had no name, like a baby left at the door of a nunnery. Its new assemblage of fans (the aforementioned kith and kin) would simply snap their fingers or ask for “one of the those, you know, gin thingies” when the cocktail hour presented itself. Rivers of the stuff were shaken and poured, but still no name. But then it happened, as it sometimes has a tendency to do. Having put away two or three “gin thingies” one night, I poured myself into bed and during this sound, hooch-induced slumber I had the most curious of dreams. As it turned out, in the dream, former First Lady Barbara Bush was a great devotee of the drink I had created, known to knock them back with tremendous zeal at State function and so forth. And so it was. “There is nothing like a dream,” Victor Hugo once said, “to create the future.” May I present--the future, the Barbara Bush.

THE BARBARA BUSH
I’ve added a couple dashes of bitters and a fanciful garnish to the recipe but the drink is still delicious, if less exciting, without them.

6 oz. gin (preferably Tanqueray. If money is a concern, Gordon’s. If they’re about to shut off the power, try my “Home-made” Gin recipe)
½ oz. Clear Creek Distillery’s Williams Pear brandy
2 pieces orange zest or 2 dashes Fee Brothers orange bitters.
Two dried pear chips (optional)

1. Combine first three ingredients in cocktail shaker and fill with ice cubes.

2. Shake for at least 20 seconds.

3. Strain into frozen martini glasses and float pear chip, if using, in the glass.

Yields 2 cocktails

by Ravinder Kingra

The mercury (admittedly, few thermometers still employ mercury to tell one what one needs to know when one requires the services of a thermometer) has begun its yearly descent. The work day now starts and ends in darkness. The Jack-O-Lantern Peeps are nowhere to be found, having been vanquished by those of the Christmas tree and snowman varieties. At a time like this, one finds oneself in need of what the French might call un aide-mémoire, though usually only in diplomatic circles; someone of the English-speaking persuasion might instead bethink oneself of those contented days of summer. Days spent snoozing on the dock, shuttling the cock back and forth over the badminton net, supping the sup en plein air (again with the damnable French), as it were, and so on and so forth.

Here, friends, is an agreeable curative if ever there was one. The long-gone warmth and frivolity of summer will come rushing back to the fore; crashing down like the softest, most wonderful, tart and tangy ton of lemony, boozy bricks one could hope under which to find oneself. The standard home bar may not consider among its faithful members two of the ingredients--the guilty parties involved being limoncello (a lemon cordial) and butterscotch schnapps—but both are available at most liquor stores. Alternatively, recipe for a simple and delightful limoncello substitute can be found on my website, and also here, and here. Entering the "make your own lemon liqueur" industry, however, will take some advanced planning--at least a week or so for the flavors to mix, mingle, and otherwise get to know one another.

So when one’s morning routine requires the calculation of just how many pairs of long underwear into which one will need to stuff oneself, the time has come for one or two Simpaticos.

THE SIMPATICO

4 oz. vodka
2 dashes vanilla
½ oz butterscotch schnapps
2 oz lemon juice
2 oz Limoncello
sugar for rimming glasses (optional)
2 thin slices of lemon, or 2 twists of lemon (optional)

Combine first five ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Add ice and shake for 20 seconds. Strain into chilled, sugar-rimmed glasses. Add lemon slices or twists, if using, and serve.

Yields 2 cocktails

by Ravinder Kingra

Friends, I've just returned from Texas and the news is not good. Fear not, the Alamo is still intact and alarmingly much smaller than I remember it being in Pee Wee's Big Adventure. And so too is the Tex-Mex machine still ably churning out chalupas, fajitas, and taquitos as the mariachis charge you $6 for some tacky song you mistakenly assumed was on the house.

No, the bad news is that it seems one must give up on finding a well shaken, and thoroughly chilled cocktail in the great state that brought us Whole Foods and the assassination of JFK.

I must confess that my sphere of experience was geographically limited to the San Antonio/Austin/Johnson City triangle. But within that small wedge of Texas my traveling companions and I sampled sidecars, old fashioneds, whisky sours, and margaritas; the overwhelming majority of which nearly compelled me to throw the offending drinks, for lack of a better word, into the faces of the barkeeps who were non compos mentis enough to offer them to me in the first place. At one establishment (a modern and stylish Tex-Mex eatery) I ordered its famous "Hand-shaken Margarita" while standing at the bar, thereby having a front row seat to the perplexing show that was to come. Had one blinked at any point during the preparation of my drink one would miss what was surely the loosest interpretation of the words shake, shaken, and while we're at it, hand and margarita. It is true that the cocktail shaker was in the gentleman's hand and it is also true that his hand (and said shaker) did move imperceptibly in the upwards direction and then downwardly the same imperceptible distance, but one wonders how on Earth that twitch could constitute shaking. Had the menu read "Hand-twitched Margarita" I would have perhaps thought nothing of this spectacle. Indeed, I would most likely have turned on my heels and left the restaurant in search of something more in keeping with my standards, however fruitless that search might (did) turn out to be.

What surprised this writer most was the prevalence of such negligent barmanship. I dined at establishments of every stock and strain--from the lowly delivery van-cum-taqueria parked by the roadside in a questionable neighborhood to the award winning palais du gastronomie stuffed to its gills with crystal goblets brimming with Château Haut-Brion, bejeweled socialites tucking into foie gras and lobster, and wheelers and dealers wheeling and dealing while a waiter flambés some sweet treat at table-side. One restaurant had no problem cooking to perfection my $40 steak, yet when it came to my sidecar, all concepts of quality and taste had presumably been dumped into the toilet; the resultant mixture then finding its way into my cocktail glass with a few chips of melting ice. At the boutique hotel where we were to lay our heads my sister and I sauntered into the hotel bar (where the see and be seen see and are seen) expecting our troubles and worries to be driven from our minds with exquisitely executed beverages. "Two whisky sours, my good man," I spoke. Hindsight being what it is, I realized upon taking the introductory sip that I should have instead made the request thusly: "Two good whisky sours, my man." I couldn't help thinking it was no wonder the Alamo fell. Had D. Crocket and Jim Bowie had nothing more to revive the spirits than these sorry bartenders mixing watered down sidecars and neglected margaritas that we had encountered, the defense of the future tourist trap must indeed have seemed an unnecessary venture.

Now, at this point one might feel that all hope is lost, for I'll admit that I've painted a rather gloomy landscape. One might ask aloud, why bother searching for a tipple lest it be a shot and a beer while in Texas? Well, let me pass along to you the final act of our story: Our second to last night in The Lone Star State found our party at a hip eatery in Austin, named Lambert's. As if the cocktail follies to which we'd been subjected had preceded us (and the management felt it their duty to right the wrongs visited upon our thirsts up to that point) we were served margaritas and Pisco sours that would have made the angels sing--or is it weep? I can never remember which is the good one. Perfectly mixed, icy cold, expertly served. At last the stars at night were big and bright, deep in the so on and so forth. So think not of the failures, the disappointments. Remember instead the glorious satisfaction of finding that holiest of grails--a well made cocktail. Remember the moments when you come upon that treasured restorative; when it all works out.

And with that, this week's prescription, The Lady Bird (named for Claudia Alta "Lady Bird" Taylor Johnson, native Texan, and First Lady of the United S. of A.)

THE LADY BIRD

4 oz bourbon
2 oz orange juice, freshly squeezed
1 oz lemon juice, freshly squeezed
2 dashes orange bitters
2 Tablespoons simple syrup
2 pieces orange zest, optional.

Add all ingredients, except zest, to a cocktail shaker. Add ice and shake for 20 seconds. Strain into chilled glasses and garnish with zest, if using.

Yields 2 cocktails

by Ravinder Kingra

Whilst preparing for a Christmas cocktail party this week, I took it upon myself to clean the bar. I had barely trotted out the cleaning tackle and set to work when I noticed that a disturbing majority of the bottles where obscured beneath a layer of dust and debris. And then out of the corner of my eye I noticed that a select and happy few of the vessels arrayed before me were as clean as whistles. The innocent parties in this dusty rebellion were the gin, the bourbon, and the triple sec.

Realizing at once that these are the most often used spirits in the bunch, it became clear that the dust was not the result of polluted living conditions. A surer sign of disuse I could not envisage. It was time to act. No, no. I didn't dust. Heavens, no. I invented a new cocktail. It was high time that I expanded the repertoire, as it were. One can think of it as an alcoholic feather duster, if one is so inclined.

THE AMBER SPYGLASS

Black pepper syrup will add a very subtle kick and some sweetness. Maraschino liqueur, a clear liqueur made from Marasca cherries, is a little tough to find. But it's worth the effort. Cherry schnapps is not a substitute; neither is maraschino cherry juice.

4 oz. gin
2 oz. freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 oz. maraschino liqueur
1 oz. sweet vermouth
1 tbsp black pepper simple syrup
2 cherries, fresh or maraschino (optional)
1 pinch of coarsely ground black pepper (optional)
1 tbsp sugar (optional)

If rimming the glasses, mix together black pepper and sugar on a plate. Rub a piece of lemon around the rim of a glass and holding the glass at a 45° angle to the plate, twist the glass around, coating the whole rim with the sugar-pepper mixture.

Pour all ingredients into cocktail shaker and fill with ice. Shake for 20 seconds.

Strain into chilled martini glasses. and garnish with cherries, if using.

yields 2 cocktails

by Ravinder Kingra

A Happy New Year to you all, dear readers. I trust that those of you so culturally, religiously, or consumeristically inclined received just what was asked for from a certain Mr. Kringle. The resolutions, too, I presume are proceeding apace.

Oh, how kind of you to ask. It was an uncharacteristically low-key Christmas for me. My mother had decided to be in charge of a majority of the cooking for the week's festivities. All I can claim credit for is manning (rather ably, if I do say so myself) the bar and also making a sublime lobster bisque for Boxing Day dinner, as well as a quiche which, if given the chance and with the necessary legal obstacles hurdled, I'd happily marry. However, I digress.

I wish to discuss with you something else entirely. The missus and I decided to host a Christmas cocktail party back in mid-December. We had decided on the hors d'oeuvres that we'd serve (home-made shrimp toasts, Indian zucchini cakes with cashew sauce, white bean and cilantro dip) and we felt that equal time and effort should go into deciding on a drink to make the visitants feel it had been worthwhile dressing in their finery and venturing out on a cold winter night.

A refreshing, elegant, not too boozy tipple was the quarry. Usually I'd serve a Manhattan or a Simpatico (see the November 13th missive below). Perhaps a whisky sour. But my better half and I were hoping for spirited conversation and fun times, not a house full of drunkards. And since our guests may have likely just finished dinner and drinks before making it to our soirée, we thought a lighter cocktail would be appropriate. And since nothing says Christmas party like punch, I had a starting point. The word "punch" comes from the Parsi word for five and traditionally contained five ingredients: a spirit, sugar, lemon juice, water, and spices, herbs, or tea. Here, I chose two spirits, lemon juice, and vermouth and black pepper simple syrup (the sugar, herbs, spices). That's the punch. Playing the role of the Judy is the seltzer.

THE PUNCH & JUDY

2 oz gin
2 oz light rum
1 oz fresh lemon juice
1 oz sweet vermouth
2 tablespoon black pepper simple syrup
Club Soda or seltzer
Ice
2 lemon wedges
2 Maraschino cherries

Combine first five ingredients in an cocktail shaker. Fill with ice and shake for 20 seconds. Strain into two ice filled Collins glasses. Top off with soda water or club soda. Garnish each with a lemon wedge and a cherry.

yields 2 drinks

NOTE: For the party I mixed up a few large bottles of the first five ingredients before hand. Then all I (or a thirsty guest) had to do was add some pre-mixed punch to the shaker, shake it, add it to an ice-filled glass and top it off with seltzer. Easy, peasey, lemon squeezy.

by Ravinder Kingra

Apologies, fellow cocktail devotees, for the lack of postings from yours truly. I trust no one's been standing empty-handed and parched-mouthed at the bar waiting for a new recipe lo these many months.

I've waited to put pen to p. until I could be certain that we wouldn't wake up to find ourselves under a blanket of late season snow. Hopefully I'm not welcoming the wrath of Mother Nature (or Gaia, if one is so inclined) by taunting her like this but I think we're safely in the throws of Spring. So, now that the Sorels and snowsuits are safely stashed in the attic one can concentrate on adding some spring to one's cocktail menu steps, as it were.

Nothing says spring like rhubarb. So that's where it all began; well, there and also with a tipple I'd had at 555 as inspiration. Infusing gin with rhubarb imparts the former with the slightly bitter, astringent, herbal and, not to put too fine a point on it, pink qualities of the latter. The red wine gastrique adds tartness and acidity that balances the sweetness of the simple syrup. The black pepper adds spice and warmth; and the walnut oil contributes a luscious mouth feel and appearance in the form of glistening droplets of oil on the surface of the drink.

I'll insert a disclaimer here for those of you eager to shake up a pitcher tout de suite. The main ingredient requires some planning, namely a one to two week steeping of gin and rhubarb. If you must, simply must have a drink right away, you can muddle a few slices of rhubarb in the shaker before adding the rest of the ingredients. You might need to increase the amount of simple syrup if you follow this route, since the bitterness will be slightly harsh (or forward, in today's wine enthusiast parlance.)

So let us celebrate the thawing of frozen soil, the budding buds on the trees, the tweet and/or twitter of song birds, and so on and so forth, with the Resurrection. Thus, it is risen.

THE RESURRECTION

4 oz. rhubarb-infused gin*
2½ oz. fresh lemon juice
1½ oz. red wine gastrique
1 oz. black pepper simple syrup (or plain simple syrup and a few grinds of pepper)
⅛ teaspoon (a dash) walnut oil
freshly ground black pepper (optional)
sugar (optional)

If using, combine sugar and black pepper in a shallow dish. Rim two martini (or other cocktaily) glasses with the mixture and set aside.

Combine remaining ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Add ice and shake for 20 seconds.

Strain into prepared glasses.

Serve.

Yields two cocktails.

* To make rhubarb-infused gin add two cleaned stalks of rhubarb, diced, to a 750mL bottle of your favorite gin. Let it sit in a cool, dark place for a week or two. Strain rhubarb out of gin and return gin to bottle. Use in your favorite gin recipes, not just in the Resurrection. Note: If you don't have rhubarb-infused gin or the time to make it, muddle three of for slices of rhubarb in the cocktail shaker before adding the rest of the ingredients. You may need to increase the amount of simple syrup by a teaspoon or two since muddling the rhubarb will bring out more bitterness.