Drunken Shakespeare

Yes, you read that correctly. Drunken Shakespeare. In a university setting, what better way could you possibly spend a Saturday night than with a large group of inhibitionless friends hacking our way through the Bard's works? Answer: you can't. It was glorious.

I have always been a Shakespeare buff -- my father was proudly taking me to the theatre as soon as I was old enough to stay up that late. High school English classes were dull, because I was more familiar with the plays than the others students (and sometimes the teacher, too). I wrote my extended essay on Rosencrantz & Guildenstern, the dubious 'friends' of Hamlet. And without provocation, I will happily pick up one of the big tragedies to read through some monologue or other.

And now, my madness is being bolstered by the encouraging warbles of everyone else.

Eminently Shakespearian characters do not like your Pyramus & Thisbe

The booze may not be necessary, but it has been known work wonders. Everyone is more likely to jump in and claim a character for their own, and hilarity always ensues. The centuries-old text comes alive, and sometimes the characters even get a bizarre makeover. Imagine, if you will, Macbeth as played by Marlon Brando. Or Midsummer Night's peanut gallery composed of Statler and Waldorf (OOOHOHOHOHO!).

Since the weather is turning Turk-- uh, cold, on this occasion, I thought some late-Autumn drinks would be appropriate. Something warm and fuzzy. Ultimately, I settled on Mulled Wine and Hot Buttered Rum. Both feel like grown-up versions of tea or hot chocolate, and the alcohol blends well with the other tastes well enough that you almost don't notice it. This calls for caution, of course: Othello is much less eloquent when he's passed out on the floor. But if you serve it warm-to-hot, folks are less likely to drink too fast.

"Is this a dagger I see before me?"

Unfortunately, I have yet to find an exact recipe for mulled wine that works 100% of time. If anyone has one, please let me know! I'm tired of having to wing it, not knowing if it will taste good or not. In essence, I tossed these ingredients in approximated amounts together. Heat -- but don't boil -- them in a pot before ladling them out into mugs.

• 3 bottles Beaujolais // I'd try a Merlot next time
• zest of 3 lemons
• zest of 3 oranges
• juice of 1 orange
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 3 sticks cinnamon
• cloves
• nutmeg
• allspice
• pinch cardamom // don't overdo it. Really

I didn't even have to worry about the Hot Buttered Rum, as one of the night's actresses was adept at throwing it together at moment's notice. I learned later that she got the recipe from the Food Network website, which surprised me; I'm usually suspicious of the kind of recipes one might find there. But thumbs-up on this one -- warm, fuzzy, and delicious. I want to drink this every night of the upcoming Chicago winter. So Cheers to you, Witch #1 / Horatio / whomever-the-hell-else-you-were!

Hot Buttered Rum

• 1 stick unsalted butter, softened
• 2 cups light brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg
• Pinch ground cloves
• Pinch salt
• Bottle dark rum
• Boiling water

In a bowl, cream together the butter, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and salt. Refrigerate until almost firm. Spoon about 2 tablespoons of the butter mixture into 12 small mugs. Pour about 3 ounces of rum into each mug (filling about halfway). Top with boiling water (to fill the remaining half), stir well, and serve immediately.

An Introduction to Alsacian Whites

Recently I have been spending my time exploring many and sundry mixed drinks. Most of these have been posted, and there are a few more coming in a later post (found a great one the night before last night called a "New York, New York" - it is a derivative of a Manhattan and really good). But one of the things I have not been talking about is wine.

This may not be a thrilling topic to many in my audience - most of you probably know enough about wine to know your own preferences (and you don't need me butting in!), but wine is one of my passions so I am afraid I will subject you to my ramblings anyway.

Late last year, Neen and I went to a fabulous Bed and Breakfast in the Shenandoah Valley called Joshua Wilton House. This wonderful little Inn has a great restaurant on the ground floor, and then five delectably cute little rooms on the second floor. The staff is extremely polite and attentive, and the food at the restaurant is fantastic. They get a large portion of their food from Polyface Farm, which many people have heard about when reading Michael Pollan's The Omnivores Dilemma. What that means is that their basic ingredients are fantastic, and their chef does a wonderful job of enhancing the natural flavors without overshadowing them. We stayed there two nights, and we ate at the restaurant both nights (after the first night we felt it was necessary).

But the real reason I am talking about all of this, is that they also have a great wine list. A really, really great wine list. It is not the biggest collection you will ever see, but the bottles are very well selected and the sommelier (whose name is escaping me) selected two knock-out pairings for our two evenings with him. The second one of these was a real shock to me. An Alsacian white that didn't burn the top layer of my tongue off from the acidity.

To explain why this is shocking to me takes just a little bit of an explanation, so please indulge me for a moment. When Neen and I were backpacking around Europe the summer of 2006, we wound up in Alsace during a small town's wine-fest. Of course we made time to go see it - it was a blast, I loved tasting the differences among producers all from the same region. And, of course, since we were walking around with a notebook and asking questions about the wines, nobody charged us for the pleasure of tasting their wine. It was a lot of fun. One of the things I learned, though, was to be scared of Alsacian wine. Why? Because I was tasting their Rieslings, and my tongue had long been trained on German Riesling, which is a different ball game. Completely different. The Alsacian wines were very acidic, and so the only way to make them enjoyable was to age them long enough to tone the acidity down. That meant sweet wines (since these are the wines that they were selling already aged). So, for me, an Alsacian wine had a chance of being good if it was old enough, but a young Alsacian - well, I'm chemist, if I want hydrochloric acid to drink, I can get in lab. It's much cheaper.

So when I said to this Joshua Wilton Sommelier, "I trust you, you should pick," and he comes back with an Alsacian white, my gut falls to the floor and I just want to crawl into a corner and hide. I take a first sip and suddenly the sky opens and an angel descends. Okay, so maybe not. But it was a fabulous sip - the wine, a Marcel Deiss Pinot Blanc, was everything you could ask for. It has an off-sweet body with lots of fruit and enough acidity to give it structure. It was a perfect balance between the sophistication that keeps the mind engaged by a wine and the unadulterated pleasure that keeps the tongue wanting more. The label is still in my notebook.

So earlier this week I opened another of Marcel Deiss's wines. This time a Riesling. I know, after the long description of the horrors of the Alsacian Riesling, I went back to it. I had to try. And I am glad I did. The Riesling was another home-run success for this vintner. Again it showed the fruit of the Riesling, but gave it a sharp, slightly acidic accompaniment that really helped the wine keep me mentally engaged and give it enough body to pair against the food. (I will post about this meal later, because the Poulet Basquaise was a great dish in its own right and the pairing worked really well for me).

If you haven't tried it before I highly recommend something produced by Marcel Deiss. They are more expensive than I will usually pay for a white, but they are wines worth trying at least once (and great for an occasion)!

Friday Drinks: A Repeated Exploration

Yesterday was Friday. The entire day a single mantra was playing through my mind, "TGIF, TGIF, TGIF!" I didn't want to do work - I was burned out from the slow realization that the project I have been working on for the past 6 months might be a complete bomb. That is to say, that I might have to restart from square one. With only a short two months before I leave for California, that is not feasible. It has been a disappointing week. Oh well.

I came home early and worked from home. I was reasonably productive, but I spent more than a moderate amount of time staring at a wall trying to figure out what I will do if it turns out this project doesn't work. For those of you who are not familiar with academic science - we live and die (professionally) by our ability to publish papers. Preferably, really good papers that everyone wants to read. If this project doesn't work, well it will not be disastrous but it would be a blow to what I had hoped to accomplish this year.

So when Neen finally got home, I was ready for a drink. I didn't want anything too stiff, so I decided to continue exploring mixed drinks. Earlier this week we had tried a recipe for a Cosmopolitan that was really disappointing (from my American Bartender's Handbook). So, this time I looked to my Maran Illustrated book on Bartending to see what other recipes might be out there. Along the way I saw a recipe for something called a Bay Breeze that made use of pineapple juice, so I decided to make that for Neen when she got home and have the Cosmopolitan for myself. As it turns out, I made both when she got home, and she finished her Bay Breeze and then asked for a cosmopolitan on top of it. I was impressed. She was tipsy.

Bay Breeze:

Neen really, really liked this one. Again, it was a very light drink. It had 1 oz of vodka to 4.5 oz of fruit juice. The cranberry juice gave it just enough tart to make you really appreciate the flavor of the pineapple juice that was mixed in. It is also very easy to make since it is really just mixed together in a glass with ice.

The only problem with the drink is that it really taste like fruit juice - you don't notice the vodka until it hits you. And if you weigh as little as Neen does, well, it will hit you hard. (Especially once you have already moved onto your second drink).

Recipe:
1 oz vodka
2 oz pineapple juice
2 oz red cranberry juice
1 lime wedge

1. Fill glass with ice cubes.
2. Add the vodka, pineapple, and cranberry juice to the glass.
3. stir together and garnish with a wedge of lime.

Neen inserts: Hey! Just 'cause I tripped over the computer cord doesn't mean I'm a lush!

Cosmopolitan:
The first cosmopolitan we had tasted too strongly of the triple sec and vodka without the easing influence of cranberry juice. Both Neen and I found it too strong, with an almost sickly sweet flavor. The recipe I give below is one I found in the Marlan Illustrated book on Bartending. It has more cranberry juice and lime juice then the previous recipe, and a larger ratio of vodka to triple sec. This one I really, really enjoyed. I will be coming back to it again for a while. I found the flavors intriguing and full, without tasting so strongly of alcohol as to be unpleasant. It was, however, still a stronger drink than the Bay Breeze - so if you are a fan of the really fruity mixed drinks - try the recipe above.

Recipe:
1.25 oz vondka
3/4 oz triple sec
3 oz red cranberry juice
1/2 lime (juice) [this is ~1/2 oz of lime juice]
1 orange spiral (I didn't include it, but there it is in the recipe)

1. Fill shaker halfway up with ice cubes.
2. Add vodka, triple sec, cranberry juice, and lime juice to the shaker.
3. Shake vigorously for 5-10 seconds. (I usually go slightly longer because we tend to like drinks that are a little more diluted)
4. strain mixture into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with an orange spiral.

Return Home: A Little Shaken, But Not Stirred

So, as you have heard, I was off at a conference last week. Before that, I spent the week preparing for the conference. Blogging, I am afraid, fell well into the background. But I arrived home on Friday and had a wonderful time meeting with some of Neen's family in the area and talking with her parents. (I assume it can be taken for granted that I enjoyed the simple act of being close to Neen all weekend. I haven't been willing to let her get out of arms reach all weekend.)

It is always a pleasure to see Neen's parents, and they are always unbelievably kind as guests. As Neen has mentioned, when we host them in our apartment, it often feels like they are doing the hosting! And, they have a habit of bringing fabulous "hosting" gifts with them on top of it. Over the summer one of their presents was a great shaker. It was originally intended for Neen because she had started to make Martinis. I will admit, it has been rather abandoned since we first received it. I don't drink Martinis and since the drinks for the night tend to be my responsibility, it just didn't get used.

That, I am glad to report, has changed. Over the last couple weeks I have gained a keen interest in learning how to mix drinks. I have always associated mixed drinks with going out - it is just never something I have ever seen anyone do in their own house. Of course, as students, Neen and I can't really afford the price-tag associated with going out for drinks as often as I might like. So, we decided it was time to investigate the art of mixology.

I have picked up two books: New American Bartender's Handbook, and Maran Illustrated Bartending. The Illustrated book has a more thorough introduction to the finer points of technique, but does not have a particularly comprehensive drink list. I find that, even as a beginner, I really use the Handbook much more often. It has a discussion of all of the different kinds of alcohols, their origins, and their characteristics. It is also has a very comprehensive list of drinks, which is useful since we don't have a very extensive collection of alcohols I am willing to use for mixed drinks.

The Chancellor
The first drink I tried actually came from an article in Food and Wine. The drink is called the Chancellor and is the invention of Sam Ross.

• Ice
• 2 ounces single-malt Scotch
• 1/2 ounce ruby port
• 1/2 ounce dry vermouth
• Dash of Peychaud’s bitters

(Mix all of the ingredients into a pint glass, and stir well. Strain into a chilled cup.)


I was excited about the idea of combining port and whiskey, though the idea of using single-malt scotch put me on edge. But, since it was my first drink, I figured I would follow the recipe. Big Mistake. The single-malt scotch was ruined, and did not blend well with any of the other flavors. I am just glad I didn't make a full portion.

I, of course, tried an immediate adaptation by simply substituting American bourbon for single-malt scotch. This was a nice change, though the drink was still very stiff. The sweetness of the bourbon melded nicely with the flavors of a young port. I thought about it for a little while, and decided it would make a very nice aperitif if the you wanted to prepare your palate for wine with dinner. Sweeter drinks sometimes make it hard to enjoy a more subtle wine. I have not yet tried it before wine, so I am not sure it will work. But it is certainly worth testing.

Tequila Sunrise

The next drink I made for us was a Tequila Sunrise. Neen and I were making dinner over the weekend, and we decided we would have a drink while we cooked. Usually, I would open a bottle of wine, but this time we decided to try a mixed drink. I flipped through my books and landed on a Tequila Sunrise because it is so simple. I, unfortunately, don't have Tequila, but I do have another Mezcal (in the same family, but from a different portion of Mexico). So I replaced the tequila. It worked well, but the Mezcal I used had a slightly smoky flavor that was a little out of place in the drink. We added a little sugar, though, and it was perfect.

Ingredients:
- 2 oz tequila
- 4 oz orange juice
- 1 oz grenadine

(Add the tequila and orange juice to a glass with ice. Stir. Then add the grenadine slowly. Let it settle to the bottom of the glass. Serve.)


Maiden's Prayer
This is a drink I made for Neen, this weekend. It is a very light drink. It put me in mind of the summer, which for warm day was perfect. I don't think it would be a good companion even for light food (such as chips) because the flavors are so gentle it would be overpowered. On the other hand, for drinkers who don't want heavy flavors (and don't want to taste the alcohol) it is well balanced.

1 oz gin
1/2 oz Cointreau
2 oz Orange Juice
3/4 oz Lemon Juice

(Mix all of the ingredients in a shaker with ice. Shake. Strain into a chilled glass. )

Note: For those looking closely, you will notice that something is written on the Martini glasses we are using. As graduates of the class of 2007, our class decided on the rather unimaginative theme of James Bond (007). The Martini glass has a picture of James Bond with the favorite quote, "Shaken not Stirred." Have no fear, we didn't actually buy these. The University gave them to us and, until recently, they were as neglected as the shaker.


Madras
This is another nice, light drink. The cranberry juice was a nice touch. It gives it a little bit of a tart flavor that balances the sweetness of the Orange Juice. I don't have any vodka in my liquor cabinet, so I replaced it with grappa. I thought it worked well.

1.5 oz vodka
4 oz cranberry juice
1 oz Orange Juice

(Mix all of the ingredients into a large glass over ice.)

Deep in the Heart of Texas you find...Wine and Vineyards!

As D and I keep hinting, but have yet to really explain, we are wine people. We first realized that we were 'more than friends' while tasting Rieslings at a Rotenberg vineyard in Baden-Württemberg, Germany (just outside Stuttgart). I had a summer internship in Geneva and had taken the train up to visit D, a college acquaintance who was doing research at the Stuttgart University. One of his mentors had taken it upon himself to introduce D to classical music and to wine; D gleefully passed on his new-found appreciation as soon as I got off the train. Both he and the Rieslings totally knocked my socks off. One year later, we did a 3 week trek through Europe and brought back over 20 bottles of Wurttemberg wine in our backpacks (I have renowned packing skillz). Two years later, our wine collection topped 100 bottles, not counting the hard liquor, and dominates the central room in our apartment. And right around the three year mark, we'll be moving to the doorstep of California wine country! Life is good.

What really brought all this on is that, while waiting in the airport on Easter Monday, I picked up a copy of the oft pretentious but still delectable Food & Wine magazine. That magazine unnerves me to no end with its ridiculously elite vibe (they only do stories on multimillionaires and the food that their chefs prepare for their "casual" parties), but I find that its recipes are a lot morechallenging and sophisticated than most other food magazines on the market. In the April 2008 issue, Food & Wine did a fairly mediocre travelogue article on Texas Hill Country vineyards. I don't know if I was more indignant at the poor quality of the writing, or more pleased that Hill Country wines are finally starting to get recognized in the mainstream foodie culture.

When D and I moved into our D.C. apartment last September, my Dad gave us a bottle of 2004 "Super Texan" Sangiovese that he picked up in an Austin grocery store. He was tickled by the name and amused that Texas made wine at all -- and was hoping to pass on his appreciation of reds to two staunch white drinkers (we had expanded beyond German whites, but only grudgingly). We laughed, since "Super Texan" is a spoof on "Super Tuscan" -- the Italian term for a Tuscan wine that doesn't conform to their strict wine-making standards. We then jovially took the bottle on a picnic in the Shenandoah National Park... and were completely floored. The red was hearty, sure, not wispy and subtle, but gooood. Not overly aggressive with tannins, yet it still had some body to it unlike so many insipid California Pinot Noirs. D can do more justice to the description than I can, and I may have him edit this post to insert his own perspective. [D interjects: It had some deeper fruit flavors going on (like cherry or plum), but was still very well balanced thanks to mild acidity. It's a perfect sipping red, and yet it had enough structure that it could pair with mild to moderately robust food]. Suffice it to say, it was one of the best reds we'd ever had.

So when we visited my parents in Austin a month later, we were quite excited to go visit the Flat Creek Estate, the vineyard where this magnificent example of American craftsmanship and ingenuity was made. The trip was not disappointing. The winery and its grounds were lovely, the owner was amused by our pretentious vocabulary and our out-of-town enthusiasm (D takes notes when he goes to tastings). We learned that the Hill Country is a burgeoning wine region that is starting to climb on the national radar screen, with vineyards experimenting with different grapes and techniques to figure out what works best. They are clearly still working out the kinks: a Muscato D'Arancia was very orangey but too sweet, and their port was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. What's surprising is how quickly the vineyards are finding their sweet spots: that 2004 Super Texan that we adore was that vineyard's first harvest of Sangiovese grapes! Simultaneously, it takes a real gutsy cowboy to try wine-making in Texas. A bad drought in 2006 means that Flat Creek's Sangiovese grapes were nearly wiped out and they'll have to truck in someone else's -- so our glowing praise doesn't necessarily apply to the 2006 Super Texan!

It's really neat to watch the new emerging wine regions, like the Texas and Virginia. I mean, these regions are not in any way pompous or posh, so their baby vineyards have this real 'down-home' feel. Kind of like food markets: you feel like you're connected to something more than a conglomerate; it's an adventure, you've made a discovery.

Old Wine, Young Wine - Either Way, Don't Whine

I first learned to appreciate wine with a mentor who believed in storing wines for years. A lot of years. On my first occasion eating dinner at his house Laszlo served, in sequence, a wine from 2001, 1985, 1979, and 1974 -- the last three corresponding to the birth years of his guests (this was in 2005). So I appreciate an aged wine when it comes my way.

Last night, since it was Purim (and, as Neen mentioned earlier, this means it is mitzvot to have a festive meal), I opened a bottle of German Riesling from 1998 that I located earlier this year at a wine store around DC at fire sale prices. (Cough... maybe you see where this is going?) As soon as I opened the bottle I was concerned. One of the first things to look at when opening a bottle of wine is its cork. I know it seems pretentious to pretend you can learn anything from the cork, but seriously you can. Take this cork for example, when I first took the foil off the top of the bottle you could see the large amounts of residue that had been seeping out from the cork. Now, this is okay - its good actually, because it means that the cork is wet. This means there should be a good balance of air exchange between the bottle and the outside world. This is how a bottle ages. The problem was, when I removed the cork it was very firm. Why is that a problem? Because when a cork is "wet" it becomes slightly mushy, this is particularly true as cork ages. A ten year old piece of cork that is very firm does not have wine seeping through it, the wine is seeping around it. That is bad. Very bad.

As soon as I poured the wine, my concerns settled like a hard lump in my stomach. The dark, amber hues of the wine are the kinds one expects from a white wine that is much, much older (a wine 20+ years old can have that color) - this wine had definitely been over exposed to air. The nose of the wine, however, showed none of the sharp vinegar notes that usually accompany a corked wine. A tentative sip of the glass was shocking. The wine had over-oxidized, but it had simply lost its stronger fruit character and gained a body reminiscent of sherry. I would not call it a great wine, but it was actually quiet pleasant. Dry, with no flavor on the front of the palate, but a reasonably complex set of flavors on the mid-to-back palate. It didn't have the nutty flavor that is often associated with sherry, but it was still nice enough.

Of course, it wasn't going to pair with dinner at all. So, I still opened a second bottle. This one had been a recommendation from a staff member of a Whole Foods we frequent on occasion - it is an American Viogner, by Pepperwood Grove. It has a fairly gentle nose, but a wonder flavor. Very fruity, light, and complex. Almost more of a summer wine, but given our obsession with the warmth of Spring, it was a perfect match for pre-dinner sipping. (Neen sipped this, while I went after our Riesling sherry - of course we swapped regularly). You can see the difference in colors between the two wines in the photo. The dark colored wine on the left is the sherry Riesling, while the almost transparent wine is the Viogner.

With dinner, unfortunately, neither wine really worked. The sherry was too dry, so against the spicy potato filling of the cabbage wraps it tasted almost corrosive. The Viogner, on the other hand, was too light. It got knocked around by the power of the food. One could only barely taste the wine over the heavy spicing, and really, even then, it was just the flavor of alcohol and some of the acidic bite. Let that be a lesson to me, viogner is not Riesling, and should not be used to pair against strongly spiced food. Ah well, it is still a very nice sipping wine - I just wouldn't recommend it for a food pairing.

Kendall-Jackson Reisling 2005

Tonight, I will not be getting much in the way of work done. Not only is it already getting late, but we decided to open a bottle of wine with dinner, and after the mint julep previously, that has knocked me into the tipsy stage (not a great place to try to get real work done from).


Six Onion Soup and Kendall-Jackson Riesling
Originally uploaded by Neenabeena

The bottle, however, was well worth it. Kendall-Jackson, a common grocery-store label, really does produce a nice, balanced Riesling. I started to enjoy wine by drinking German Rieslings, so I tend towards the picky side with this varietal (okay, I tend towards the picky side with most varietals, but this one is especially bad). This bottle of KJ did not disappoint. The acidity is on the middle-palate, which is very comfortable for stand-alone drinking, but it has enough acidity that it can stand-up against reasonably robust dishes. The fruit flavors are mellow and some-what blended - I could taste green-apple and maybe melon, but nothing else really stood out. The sticker price of $12.00 places it a little high compared to some of its competition, but it is well worth the price (and much safer than most of the $8.00 Rieslings one finds - some of them are great, but it requires a lot of searching to find them).

We had this wine next to a five-onion soup, that Neen cooked. The acidity of the wine let it stand up against the cream that was used to thicken the soup stock. Since the wine is a little light on acidity for a dinner wine, the sweetness and cream of the soup made the wine taste slightly more acidic on the front palate. Overall, a nice pairing - the soup brought out the acidity that the wine needed to function as a refreshing foil to the cream.

Like Mint Tea, But Better...

Today was by far the best weather that DC has had in a long while. Warm enough to be pleasant, with clear blue skies and a gentle breeze. When I got home after work, I spent at least 30 minutes sitting on the porch outside reading a book and enjoying the wonderful weather and the smell of burning wood from a neighbor's fireplace. There are few things that say summer to me more than the flavor on mint (yeah, I know it is at best Spring, but from the perspective of Winter they both seem so similarly... pleasant).


Mint Julips
Originally uploaded by Neenabeena

A mint julep was a necessity to complete the feeling of nascent Spring. I was first introduced to a mint julep by Neen's father (Alabama born) - he showed me how to crack the ice and bruise the mint. My own mixtures tend to be a softer than his, to my palate the perfect mint julep really is related to mint tea (another favorite of mine). The sugar, far from hiding the flavor of mint, actually accents it. The ice and water make the mix a little lighter on the alcohol, taking away some of the over-powering flavor of bourbon, giving the drink a complex flavor.

Recipe:
This is a very easy drink to make, but it is very important that when bruising the leaves one does not break them open (this will give the drink a more astringent character).
1. Bruising: put about 1-2 Tbsp mint leaves (cleaned) into the glass. Add about a teaspoon of water. Using a sturdy spoon, press the mint leaves against the side of the glass. You just need to bruise the leaf (it should turn a slightly darker color when bruised), so don't press so hard that you break the skin of the leaf.
2. Crack ice. This can be done with a machine (if you would prefer), or one can simply crack the ice by holding the ice in one hand and hitting it with the spoon (hold the spoon at the bottom of its handle - the motion is in the wrist).
3. Add the Bourbon. (Proportions here are going to depend on the person - I tend to cover the leaves and then add about half to three-quarters as much bourbon as the volume of the covered leaves.)
4. Add sugar to taste.

An authentic post-collegiate moment!

Here's an authentic post-collegiate post: I have been admitted to my #1 graduate school! Tonight, we had a mushroom risotto and I started baking a chocolate cake (got distracted before the icing stage). I don't remember any of it, except for the truly excellent 2006 Evesham Wood Pinot Noir from Willamette Valley. We're both going to be graduate students next year!!!!

(Later additions on the Pinot Noir) on Wednesday: Wow, it's not only excellent, but it lasts with minimal degeneration. It's a Burgundy-style Pinot, deep and well balanced and NOT insipid like so many overrated American Pinot Noirs. In general, our rule of thumb tends to be that any Pinot Noirs coming out of Willamette Valley tend to rule the roost, and this wine certainly lives up to that assessment.

Surviving Winter with Tomato-Balsamic Soup

Inspired in part by Mark Bittman's post on roasting canned tomatoes (for those of us who are torn between our cravings for veggies and our unwillingness to buy out-of-season shlock), and in part by a recipe recommended by a reader, I made a roasted tomato-balsamic soup last night.

The two recipes essentially got combined -- 3 14.5 oz cans of tomatoes, halved, and roasted for 40 minutes with 3 Tbs. balsamic vinegar and 1 Tbs soy sauce. In the mean time, I sauteed a chopped onion and 5 (!!) garlic cloves, before adding the tomatoes and their liquid and the glass-ful of tomato juice I'd reserved from the cans. Cook a little longer, vroom-vroom it, sprinkle with freshly ground pepper, and the result was served with a green salad, homemade French bread, cheese, and one of the 1990 Bert Simon Riesling Auslese bottles that we've been babying. On a side note, we've finally drunk our way through the bottles with rotten corks, and D is thinking of long-term cellaring 7 out of the 10 remaining bottles. The wine's still got enough acidity left that, if the upcoming move doesn't kill it, it could age quite nicely for another 5 years or so (I'm pulling this number out of my arse).

The soup mostly worked. The vibe was tres French bistro, urbanely vegetarian, and the tomato soup robust. I like the roasting canned tomato technique, it might just get me through the rest of winter. But the proportions dictated by the Kitchen Assistant recipe were a little intense for me... maybe overpowering is a better word. D liked it just fine. Maybe I'll try out Bittman's more delicate thyme seasoning next time.