Liquid : Liquid

Bitter Is Better

MC Slim JB — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 15:00:00 GMT

I vividly remember my first taste of bitters, a swig from a classmate's Campari and soda, which amidst our frat-party Natty Lights stuck out like John Kerry at a biker bar. I sputtered, "That's the nastiest thing I've ever tasted!" Despite its beguiling pomegranate-seed-red color, it was so aggressively astringent that I felt like I'd been knuckle-rapped in the temples. I thought, Who could like this horrible stuff? Well, maybe you. Did you start out swilling lawnmower beers but graduate to craft microbrews? Have you forsaken vanilla-scented Napa chardonnays for crisper, unoaked French ones? Do sweet-flavored vodka cocktails strike you as kids' stuff? If so, bitters could be a welcome new friend.

Skilled bartenders aim for balance in cocktails, a harmony between sweet, sour, bitter, and savory flavors. A bad Margarita clobbers its base spirit with sugar; a great one finely calibrates tart lime juice, sweet orange liqueur, and the earthy agave of tequila. Bitters are a valuable balancing tool in the craft bartender's bag, whether they're of the Angostura school, usually administered in dashes, or the Campari camp, traditionally poured freely as a digestif. Their complexity derives from secret admixtures of myriad botanicals: roots, barks, fruit rinds, herbs, etc. Bitters can star in a cocktail or play a supporting role, adding an ineffable intricacy to otherwise ho-hum drinks. (Indeed, the very word "cocktail" originally implied the presence of bitters.)

Cynar (pronounced chee-NAHR) is one of dozens of amari (Italian for "bitters") produced and beloved throughout Italy. Flavored principally by artichoke, it's lighter and more approachable than Campari, and far gentler than that black beast of bitters, Fernet-Branca. Taken neat, on the rocks, or mixed with orange juice, it's a great aperitif. That's how it's drunk in the old country, and at Caffè dello Sport (308 Hanover Street, Boston, 617.523.5063), the kind of ancient North End caffè where you'll find silver-haired gentlemen chatting in Italian over espresso and cards. A Cynar and soda ($6) is a classic way to sample this amaro's coppery, herbal bitterness and faint sweetness while passing an idle hour watching Italian soccer on TV or the parade of tourists outside.

Cynar is also prized as a cocktail ingredient for its ability to add subtle intrigue to other spirits without overwhelming them. It should surprise no one that the bartenders at Drink (348 Congress Street, South Boston, 617.695.1806) have strong ideas about what to do with it. One fantastic original creation here is the Little Carl ($10), made with Cynar, Sutton Cellars Brown Label vermouth (a unique, amber-hued aromatized wine from Sonoma), fresh lemon juice, and dashes of house-made orange bitters. Floating a hand-carved two-inch sphere of ice garnished with salt, it's an enigmatic wonder that slowly unveils new dimensions a taste at a time.

Less heralded and less hectic is the underrated bar at Central Square's Rendezvous (502 Mass Ave, Cambridge, 617.576.1900), where bar manager Scott Holliday quietly serves outstanding craft cocktails alongside the restaurant's superb New American cuisine. One of his unnamed originals ($10) combines American straight rye whiskey, Cynar, fresh lemon juice, and Peychaud's bitters, all strained into a cocktail glass and spritzed with fresh lemon oil. If you're a bored fan of the Manhattan, this variant will fascinate your jaded palate. It's another fine example of what bitters like Cynar bring to the cocktail table. In our dewy-eyed youth, life is simple and sweet, and so are our drinks. A few years on, when the world has been revealed as more complicated than a vodka and soda, a bittersweet, Cynar-accented cocktail may be just the thing to have in front of you.

Whisky Wise Guy

Kristen Grieco — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 16:00:00 GMT

Boston is full of blue-striped-shirted, Bud Light-swilling guys, but let's face it - that's no way to impress a lady. You want to class it up, but there's that one seemingly insurmountable obstacle: it's scary facing that wall of liquor in a swanky bar, unsure of whether you're accidentally ordering a $100 glass of something that you'll choke down or, worse, ask the bartender to mix with Coke.

Thankfully, your iPhone comes to the rescue again, this time in the form of whisky social network Connosr (connosr.com). That's right, whisky. No "e." The way it's supposed to be spelled.

That's how serious the members are on this London-based website, where you can search for whiskies by country of origin and brand, check out reviews by other users, and examine Google maps to see exactly where that single malt came from. Okay, fine, that last point is trivia. But when the conversation hits a lull and your date starts eyeing the cute bartender (who, by the way, can also tell her where that distillery is located), you'll be glad you know.

We visited City Bar at the Lenox Hotel (61 Exeter Street, Boston, 617.933.4800) to see whether Connosr could come to the aid of two novices faced with one of the best whisky collections in town. Before we got started, we asked bartender Brian Roberts what we could add to our whiskies. Coke? Sour mix?

"Ice," was his response, and we got the message loud and clear. Roberts is exactly the type of whisky purist that Connosr targets. They're obsessive: the kind of people who sniff their whisky before they drink it and taste notes of wet wool or toasted bread where the rest of us just feel a path burned from our tongues to our stomachs.

Using our iPhone, we tapped Connosr's self-proclaimed experts to figure out what to order, sticking with whiskies tagged as "caramel," "honey," and "vanilla," avoiding the two tagged as "sweat." Seeing us struggle with our options, Roberts offered some words of wisdom.

"It's an acquired taste," he said. "But my advice to a beginner is to keep on trying different things. It's like red wine: you might not like the first glass you try, but there are so many different varieties of grapes, you'll find something."

After a little on-the-fly research, we settled on Maker's Mark, reviewed by a user on the site as a great beginner's sipping bourbon - and one that wouldn't give you a headache the next day. Good thing, because we were working here. We ruled out our first choice, Wild Turkey Rare Breed, thanks to the handily available information indicating that it was 54% alcohol by volume. Yikes.

The most useful parts of Connosr are the Whisky Cabinet, where you can "store" the bottles you'd like to try one day, and the tag system, which users employ to assess liquors with descriptions like "smooth," "cinnamon," or the ever-popular way to identify an aged whisky: "peaty." And when you select a bottle, its price will show as well (albeit in British pounds), giving you an idea of whether you'll be able to make your college loan payment this month if you order it.

Between Connosr and a friendly bartender, we were able to assemble an informal but informed whisky tasting - the kind that would make our virtual Connosr friends proud. At least one of us left vowing to dump his six-month-old bottle of Jameson when he got home. Sophisticated palates, here we come.

Great Scotch

Luke ONeil — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 14:00:00 GMT

Thanks to the cyclical nature of cocktail trends, every spirit gets to have its day. Whiskeys are on the rise of late, although aside from the very occasional Rob Roy, we can't remember the last time we've seen a Scotch cocktail on a drink menu. Mixing with a nice single malt is even rarer. And for good reason perhaps. Why would you want to spoil a carefully crafted sipping spirit with a mixer? But don't people do the same thing all the time with high-end gins and vodkas, even older tequilas? Wouldn't working with a quality single-malt Scotch make for a better cocktail experience and maybe open up musty old Scotch to younger people reluctant to order it straight? The short answer, as we suspected, is no. The long answer also happens to be no. That didn't stop us from trying to get a few bartenders around town to humor us.

First we looked to Macallan brand ambassador Graeme Russell to find out what was so heretical about our misguided plea. "Some argue you should only drink whiskey neat," he said. "Others argue you should add water or ice. Everyone should drink it the way they like it, but you should always start off nosing it neat and sipping it neat, and you might learn that you don't want to add anything to it."

We took his advice and sampled a few Macallan single malts at Mooo (15 Beacon Street, Boston, 617.670.2515). Many distilleries in Scotland use bourbon barrels brought over from America. Macallan, on the other hand, uses Spanish sherry casks for the entire process, which accounts for much of the richness in flavor and full body you'll find in a Scotch like their Macallan 12. A few sips into the 12 year and it becomes obvious why you wouldn't want to mix this with anything else. With its blend of dark caramel and butterscotch, it's a complex enough recipe on its own.

Adding water is about as far as Mooo bartender Brad Fichter wanted to go. Even a dash will open up the whiskey, breaking the surface tension of the alcohol. Ice, at the other extreme, pulls everything back together, making the flavors sharper and more compact. The Fine Oak 10 Year worked another spectrum of flavor with a sweeter honey, vanilla, and cinnamon character. Scotch novices would do well to start with this one.

That profile makes the Fine Oak 10 Year better suited for mixing, if you insist, says Russell. "The idea is to keep it to simple tall drinks, ginger ale, soda, lemonade. A lot of cocktails try to mask the flavor of alcohol with fruit or something. In a tall drink, the essence of the Scotch comes through."

At The Last Hurrah (60 School Street, Boston, 617.725.1888), we asked bartender Joe Murphy to make us a Rob Roy with the Macallan 12, and sure enough, most of the complexity we found drinking it neat was lost. "No good spirits are mixed into cocktails," said bar manager Frank Weber. "The purpose of cocktails is to make ok spirits better," he scolded. But do what you want. It's your money. "If you want a Highland Park Scotch 30 Year in ginger ale or lemon juice or cola, I'll make it. But I prefer to see people drink single malts neat, or with a little water to open them up."

Dave Werthman at Westside Lounge (1680 Mass Ave, Cambridge, 617.441.5566) scoffed at first as well. "Although the only way I would order a single-malt Scotch is neat or with a couple of cubes," he said, "certain ingredients can compliment and even highlight the brighter characteristics of a good Scotch while masking the bite." When pressed, he suggested a Cloak and Dagger using 2½ ounces of Macallan 12, ¼ ounce Fernet Branca, juice from half a grilled orange, and a splash of simple syrup. "Both the juice from the grilled orange and the Fernet bring out the natural smokiness of the Macallan while making it more palatable for the novice brown drinker," he said.

So it's doable then, just not advisable. "The main principle is never say never," said Russell. "With younger whiskeys, experiment and try them out. Older ones treat with due consideration. Some of these took us 25 years to make - don't throw that away with a mass-produced soda."

Fall Up Your Glass

Aaron Kagan — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 14:00:00 GMT

It’s getting colder. The nights are getting longer. Clearly, you need to start drinking more wine.

With that snap in the air, you can finally return to some of those richer pours you haven’t had in a while. “As soon as you hit September 1st, it doesn’t matter if it’s 80 degrees out; everyone’s in boots and wearing eggplant and brown, ready to jump into the next season,” says Kerri Platt, owner of The Wine Bottega (341 Hanover Street, Boston, 617.227.6607). “Same thing goes for wine. Even on a day that’s still warm, people come in looking for a big, full red, missing the wine they didn’t drink all summer.”

And with good reason. Fall is the über-season for drinking wine. But what makes a wine particularly appropriate for autumn? There are several factors, including the release date, the flavor profile, the temperature it’s served at, and the food it’s paired with. That means ’tis the season for substantial whites that hold their own with hearty fall menus and reds that are robust but not beastly. Save the real brutes for after you come home from a long commute through half-frozen puddles of car-exhaust-colored slush.

In the Northern Hemisphere, this is the time of year in which grapes ripen and are picked to become the next vintage. Wines from previous years are often released at the same time, so while the new grapes are pressed, the old ones reemerge in fermented form. Fall is also when distributors hold the most tastings, and it’s therefore the time when your local wine shop or restaurant gets fresh ideas for the season.

And of course, let’s not forget our summer drink of choice, rosé. Rosé saw an outpouring of affection in recent months, but it is by no means limited to warm-weather sipping. In fact, a substantial rosé can be perfect for this time of year. Being neither red nor white, rosé embodies transition, just like fall.

“For Thanksgiving, I always want to have rosé,” says Jennifer Ziskin, co-owner and sommelier for La Morra (48 Boylston Street, Brookline Village, 617.739.0007). “A bigger rosé, one that’s a little more round, with more body to it.” Among her favorites are Masi Campofiorin Ripasso ($9 a glass, $36 per bottle) and Tormaresca Neprica ($8 a glass, $30 per bottle).

Platt likes to focus on classic Italian reds like the “island wines” of Sicily and Sardinia as well as wines from Piedmont and Tuscany. She also recommends Barbera, which she describes as having “this juicy vibrancy that’s still fresh but starting to head into that richer, fuller, style.” She recommends the 2005 Mattei Barbera Colli Tortonesi from Piedmont, a steal at just $15 a bottle.

At Sonsie (327 Newbury Street, Boston, 617.351.2500), sommelier Johna Willis notes that palates change as quickly as the weather. “People switch to reds, especially interesting ones like malbecs or some of the Spanish reds. When the weather’s still nice, you can also do pinot.” She adds that the Truchard Syrah ($12 a glass, $48 per bottle), which is slightly dense but still fruity, pairs well with the fig and prosciutto pizza on Sonsie’s new seasonal menu.

Grapes are just one of the many crops experiencing their peak, and there are ample opportunities for complementary food and wine pairings. “It’s time to put more cheese back in your diet, more pasta. Bathing suit season is over,” says Platt. She also observes that fall is an excellent time for a little introspection in the form of some meditative sipping.

“Because it’s the harvest season, my mind turns to organic and biodynamic wine. Not in a trying-to-save-the-world kind of way, but in fall, you start to appreciate what’s around you, especially in New England with the leaves changing. I prefer letting the grapes and the wine tell their own story, and if the farming is done correctly, it’s an interesting story to tell.”

When we asked our sommeliers if there was anything they’re saving for really cold weather, they almost unanimously answered “Amarone,” which is considered the quintessential wine for sipping by the fire.

“That or whisky,” added Platt.

What Not to Drink

Sara Faith Alterman — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 14:00:00 GMT

Taste, as they say, is relative. Not sure who “they” are, exactly, but it’s certainly true that one man’s signature cocktail is another man’s stomach-turner. One gentleman we know, for example, loves to sip ouzo ( a Greek anise-flavored liquor) when out for moussaka, while some here at STUFF can’t for the life of us fathom how a chalk-colored glass of liquid licorice with the word “ooze” in its name can evoke anything but nausea.

We’ve no right to judge, of course. Recently at a wedding, a certain Liquid columnist (who shall remain nameless, ahem) got so drunk on dancing and merriment and vodka gimlets that she fancied it a fantastic idea to sweeten her perfectly sour cocktail of Grey Goose and lime with … grenadine. Portable-hotel-banquet-bar grenadine. Just reached right over the bemused bartender and grabbed a sticky bottle of the neon-colored stuff. Dumped it right in.

Don’t do that.

Actually, don’t do a lot of things.

Trust us when we tell you that you want your bartender to enjoy serving you — or, at least, not to loathe every second of muddling the 16 caipirinhas you’ve ordered for you and your bachelorette party at 10:30 on a Saturday night. We suspected that bartenders at every type of establishment had pet peeves and war stories from behind the bar. So, STUFF chatted with Joe McGuirk of Highland Kitchen (150 Highland Avenue, Somerville, 617.625.1131) about the best rules to live and drink by.

Be seasonal. Now that autumn’s here, it’s time to switch from summer standards. Sure, most bars can make you a mojito in January, but why the hell would you want them to? McGuirk once had a customer insist on one of the popular mint muddles in the middle of winter, and then complain that it didn’t taste very “minty.” Of course it didn’t. Any food would lose its flavor after spending a week on planes, trains, and semi-trucks being transported halfway around the world. Look outside. Does it look like mint-growing weather? If the answer is no, don’t order a mojito.

In fact, use the weather year-round as a guide to what to order. “Somebody ordered a hot buttered rum in June this year,” McGuirk laughs. “What makes you think a bar is prepared to make a hot buttered rum in June? I don’t have pats of butter and hot water behind the bar year-round, folks.”

Be timely. “Drinking a Bloody Mary after ten at night is like wearing white after Labor Day,” McGuirk says. “Plus, a Bloody Mary is a hangover cure. That’s why they exist.”

Just as you wouldn’t kick off your morning with a shot of tequila (unless you’re on Spring Break … or unemployment.), don’t close out your night with a Bloody Mary. Or a mimosa. It’s not a hard and fast rule that certain drinks are appropriate for certain times of the day, and, as McGuirk says, a bartender can and will make you a brunch cocktail if you order it by night, but it just seems … weird. “Instead of Bloody Mary, I’d offer to make a dirty martini,” says McGuirk, “Or, try a different hangover cure, like a Corpse Reviver No. 2. It’s gin, a little Cointreau, Lillet. It’s the same principle as a Bloody Mary.” But maybe a little more appropriate.

Listen to yourself. This is, perhaps, the most important rule of all. And we don’t mean, “listen to your heart, for it will guide you.” We mean listen to yourself, jackass. Listen to what’s coming out of that hole in your face. McGuirk’s favorite story, from about 10 years ago, is about a customer who asked for a Jack Daniel’s and Coke. Made with Maker’s Mark instead of Jack.

McGuirk is still laughing. “I told the guy, ‘Sir, in the future, you can feel confident that Jack Daniel’s does not own the proprietary rights to whiskey and cola. You can order a different whiskey.’ ” Another favorite memory? “Someone asked me for a Seven and Seven once, and when I made it, they asked why I didn’t make it with Coke. When I told them it’s because ‘Seven and Seven’ stands for ‘Seagram’s Seven and 7-Up’ they were shocked. They had never had it ‘that way’ before.... if you have a drink that you like, know what’s in it, so the bartender can make it.”

Any questions?

Stag Party

Sara Faith Alterman — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 14:00:00 GMT

Cocktails and spirits can seem, sadly, gender-specific. How often have you described a cosmopolitan as a “girly drink” or written off whiskey as only for the manliest of dudes? It may be an accidental side effect, but Jim Beam seems keen on boy-girl crossover with its fruity new product, Red Stag bourbon. The Kentucky nectar still embodies that slow, cilia-singeing tingle that coats the throat with smoky liquid fire, but in this new “girly” bourbon, it’s kissed by mellow black-cherry flavor — sure to please cowboys and chorus girls alike. I mean, hell, Kid Rock is a cow-boy, bay-bee, and he’s the official Red Stag spokesman, so there ya go.

So what makes this different from other fruit-infused spirits? For one thing, it doesn’t taste like the cough-syrup and grain-alcohol concoction that flowed freely on the frat quad your sophomore year. This fruity elixir — made with four-year-old Jim Beam bourbon — is only subtly sweet, not cloying, and the warm flavors are perfect for helping your taste buds downshift from summery heat to the gentle chill of fall. Sip it on the rocks, mix it with cola, or add femme panache to a classic Manhattan or old-fashioned. Wanna get kooky? Hit up www.theredstag.com for simple but wackadoo cocktail recipes you can whip up at home. Whatever you choose, Red Stag is definitely worth checking out, just for hard-rock, Kid Rock kicks.

Pick up a bottle of Red Stag at Atlas Liquors (156 Mystic Avenue, Medford, 781.395.4400), Blanchard’s (103 Harvard Avenue, Allston, 617.782.5588), and Supreme Liquor (600 Massachusetts Avenue, Cambridge, 617.661.8629).

Punch Drunk

Sara Faith Alterman — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 14:00:00 GMT

One of the best things about college parties was that booze was always available in mass quantities — foamy suds streaming from an industrial-sized keg, mystery punch ladled from a plastic-lined trash can. Oh, the memories. You’ve grown up, though, and your cocktail vessels should too. One of the harsh realities of adulthood is that it’s painfully déclassé to offer to hold your guests’ feet while they suck PBR upside down from a plastic nozzle. Step up your super-sized entertaining with the Glass Beverage Dispenser ($225–$275) from Koo de Kir (65 Chestnut Street, Boston, 617.723.8111), a rotund, nozzled cylinder that sits atop a sleek pedestal, ready to accept gallons and gallons of your favorite homemade party drinks. It’s available in two sizes (1.5 gallons, 8-by-16 inches; 3.5 gallons, 10-by-25 inches) and is perfect for keeping the booze and conversation flowing, no plastic red cups required.

Souped up

Sara Faith Alterman — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 14:00:00 GMT

September sneaks up so quickly, doesn’t it? And this summer was such a gyp, with the rain and the schizophrenic temperatures — the warm weather just scuttled on by, like a sneaky little bug. If you, like the STUFF staff, are desperate to cram in one last taste of summer before the frost kills your plants (and your spirit), allow us to suggest cocktails inspired by what may be the truest taste of summer: gazpacho.

“But … but … gazpacho is a food!” you may be sputtering to yourself. “It’s chunky! It’s made of vegetables! How can it be a cocktail?”

A little trust, please. We wouldn’t dream of playing some sort of sadistic practical joke on your taste buds, especially where booze is concerned. We take our drinking very seriously.

Gazpacho, a chilled Spanish vegetable soup, is actually the perfect base for light spirits. Traditionally made from raw tomatoes, onions, herbs, and sometimes cucumber, the soup is similar to the base for a Bloody Mary, and it goes terrifically with herbed vodkas. Cocktails incorporating vegetables and herbs have become increasingly popular over the last few years, so why not use gazpacho as a conduit for spirits? A delicious conduit for spirits.

Case in point: the organic gazpacho martini ($12.50) at Prezza (24 Fleet Street, Boston, 617.227.1577). This cool and refreshing drink is an homage to the backyard garden party — Crop Organic Tomato and Cucumber Vodkas are garnished with skewered tomato, cucumber, and pickled onion. Crop spirits are artisanal and eco-conscious, combining smooth flavor with that salt-of-the-earth sensibility best cultivated by earthy-crunchy organic farmers. Crop knows their spirits and their vegetables, which is why these vodkas make such a killer tip-of-the-hat to raw summer soups.

The infusion wizards at Gargoyles on the Square (219 Elm Street, Somerville, 617.776.5300) are all about steeping their own fresh flavors into premium spirits, creating the ultimate in customized boozing. Their gazpacho martini ($9 for a six-ounce serving or $11.25 for a 10-ouncer) is a customer favorite; it has made an encore appearance on the seasonal cocktail menu after blowing the minds — and palates — of Davis Square diners last year. Here, vodka is house-infused with poblano and bell peppers, tomato, bay leaf, and onion and served straight up with a celery salt and Tabasco garnish. A little kick, a little spice, and a whole lot of fresh vegetables, just the way gazpacho should taste. On its own or paired with bar nibbles, this drink is exactly what you need to take the edge off after a long day in a stuffy cubicle.

The Bloody Martini ($13.50) at Meritage (70 Rowes Wharf, Boston, 617.439.3995) is like the gorgeous bastard lovechild produced by a drunken three-way between a Bloody Mary, a gazpacho martini, and a margarita — a blend of house-made yellow-tomato water with Corzo tequila, fresh lemon, and a squirt of sriracha hot sauce for kick. The spice, citrus, and mellow acidity of the tomato marry perfectly with tequila, and if there’s one thing we love when we’re getting sauced, it’s hot sauce.

Making gazpacho cocktails at home couldn’t be easier — if you’ve got a blender, a shot glass, and a craving for veggies, you’ve got a hand-crafted gazpacho cocktail. There’s an endless variety of flavored vodkas out there, great for spiking some homemade vegetable juices and waters. One of our favorites is Herb’s Aromatic Dill Leaf Infused Vodka, which is a little tricky to come by, but it can be ordered at Charles Street Liquors (143 Charles Street, Boston, 617.523.5051). Start by making cucumber-tomato water: in a blender, puree four chopped tomatoes with two peeled and chopped cucumbers and a few healthy pinches of salt, to taste. Line a colander with cheesecloth, set it over a big pan, and pour your fresh tomato goop in to let it strain. Don’t squeeze! Just let it sit, preferably overnight, in the fridge. Voila — cucumber-tomato water. Shake it with a shot of vodka and a ton of ice, pour, and garnish with a few grape tomatoes.

If you’re not that crafty, foodie, or patient, and you just want a quick gazpacho fix, try shaking tomato juice with Square One Cucumber vodka, available at Brix Wine Shop (1284 Washington Street, Boston, 617.542.2749). Either way, you’ll be rewarded with a refreshing summery sip, one last adieu to sunshine flavors before you have to switch to winter warmers.

An Appalachian Appellation

Aaron Kagan — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 12:00:00 GMT

If you’ve spent time in the South (or in the produce section of a Whole Foods), you’re probably familiar with the muscadine grape. Native to the southern United States, muscadines are enormous, thick-skinned globules with an intense flavor that falls somewhere between that of a Concord grape and a purple Jolly Rancher. As you might imagine, they also make an intriguing wine that’s as full of funk as the name of their most common variety: scuppernong.

Would you like to try some? Too bad. You can’t get it in Boston, anywhere.

Call around asking for muscadine wine, and you’ll only be corrected. “You must mean Muscadet,” said nearly every restaurant and wine-shop staffer I contacted. When you insist that there is such a thing as muscadine, you will be met with a long, befuddled pause. “Never heard of it” usually follows.

Even Hungry Mother and Tupelo, the Southern-cuisine darlings of Cambridge, aren’t pouring muscadine, despite their celebration of other regional oddities, like the boiled peanut. Our sophisticated city is rife with vintages from such distant lands as South Africa, Chile, and Australia, and while you can even buy wine from Georgia, the country, you won’t find any from Georgia, the state. That is, unless you special order it, and you should.

Does muscadine have the complexity of a chalky chablis or the depth of a leathery merlot? Not remotely. But it has a distinctive flavor, a sweet, full-fruit taste with an unmistakable twang that you simply won’t find in any other wine, a twang that says “I am not from France; I am from the South — deal with it.”

There’s much talk of terroir these days, especially when it comes to wine, and here is a grape that, unlike most of what we drink, was actually meant to grow on this continent. Muscadines have been here since well before white people, and they still grow wild on Southern soil. Maybe we should stop mimicking European standards; perhaps muscadine is what American wine should really taste like.

Since muscadine has yet to catch on beyond its home turf, much of what you’ll find is inexpensive and produced by small, family-run vineyards. Aficionados could therefore consider almost any muscadine a single-varietal country wine. That means you’re less likely to get flavors faked by additives or wine made from dehydrated grape powder that was shipped around the world before being reconstituted. Reach for a “Big Wine” product in the same price range, and you can’t be so sure.

Have your neighborhood wine shop order you a bottle; we spoke with several, including Downtown Wine and Spirits (225 Elm Street, Somerville, 617.625.7777) and Federal Wine & Spirits (29 State Street, Boston, 617.367.8605), and they were all up for the challenge. Muscadine tends to run sweet, so go for anything with “dry” in the description (and even those will be on the sweeter side). At the very least, you’ll have a good excuse to say “scuppernong” out loud.

Ice Ice Baby

Sara Faith Alterman — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 12:00:00 GMT

Is it a hipster bedside lamp? Some kind of gelatinous intergalactic space monster? Nope, just the most weirdly wonderful ice accessory your freezer will ever have the pleasure of hosting. The iceorb ($16) from Abodeon (1731 Mass Ave, Cambridge, 617.497.0137) is a vertical ice tray that doubles as a bottle chiller — and triples as a conversation starter. The dishwasher-safe silicone contraption freezes 21 cubes at a time in its convex mold and, thanks to the exoskeleton-like design, can hold an additional 30 inside a removable bucket. We love it when aesthetics and practicality collide, on the rocks.

A bright idea

Jacqueline Houton — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 14:54:00 GMT

In college, you mastered the fine artof pumping out term papers by day and partying hard by night. But be glad that your school's curriculum didn't include any required coursework in interior decorating -- let's just say that your penchant for lining up all your empties on that ledge in your dorm room did not attest to a sophisticated sense of design. You're much more mature today, of course, and once you've finished chugging their contents, you now diligently deposit your bottles in the recycling bin. But being eco-friendly doesn't mean you have to entirely leave behind your youthful flair for using booze bottles as decor. The ReMakeIt! Bottle Lamp ($40) offers a major upgrade on your undergraduate recycling habit. Available at Greenward (1764 Mass Ave., Cambridge, 617.396.1338), the kit comes with a lamp base, a cord, and a wire frame; you just have to provide the 13-watt CFL bulb and six bottles from your classiest of craft beers. Practical sorts can use clear bottles for maximum illumination, while funkier folks can use colored bottles to create some cool mood lighting. We can't think of a better reason to polish off a six-pack -- not that we really needed the excuse.

My Thai

Sara Faith Alterman — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 14:00:00 GMT

Most people with half a palate can recognize lemongrass, coconut, chili, and lime as essential components in Southeast Asian cuisine. These complementary ingredients are especially crucial in Thailand, where cooks aim for a harmonious balance of salty, spicy, sour, bitter, and sweet. But enough about epicurean theory — on to the booze! Behind the bar at Union Square’s newly rechristened Ronnarong (255 Washington Street, Somerville, 617.625.9296), formerly known as Great Thai Chef, this seamless melding of tastes is also present in the cocktails, which are inspired by flavors of the ye olde Asian persuasion. The Sake Sunray ($9) is clearly a nod to Japan, a mellow marriage of sake, coconut, chili, sugar, lime, lemongrass, and ginger, along with a splash of soda. There’s no dominating flavor here: it is, once again, a true homage to that feng shui of flavor. A little stronger, and a little fruitier, is the Thai Sangria ($9), a super bright but still somewhat subtle mix of ginger, lemongrass, sake, and rosé — an unusual choice for sangria (around Boston, anyway), but perfectly light and summery. Your cup bubbleth over with the Thai-mosa ($9), made with guava and tamarind nectars tickled with champagne. Each of these cocktails pairs well with food or, if you’re just peckish, the amazing shrimp crisps served up at the bar. (And they’re free! Can we get an “amen” for free snickity-snacks?) Be warned: they look like discs of Styrofoam, but we promise that you’re not about to sink your teeth into packing peanuts. Of course, peanuts are another foundational ingredient in Thai food. Hmmm. Maybe we’re on to something here. No matter what you’re nibbling at Ronnarong, don’t forget to peruse the cocktail menu, so you can Thai one on. Oh man. We’re so hilarious.

Mocktail madness

Sara Faith Alterman — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 14:00:00 GMT

So, you want to squeeze into a bathing suit this summer, but you don’t feel like sacrificing your favorite liquid accessories to do so? It’s a tall order, plumpkin, but it’s doable. Of course, you’ll have to make a bit of a drinking lifestyle switch to swing it, but hey, wouldn’t you rather feel confident when you hit the beach, instead of feeling, well, beached?

Last summer, “skinny drinks” made our annual Hot 100 list, and damn if thin isn’t still in. Of course, if you really want to trim down, cutting the booze out completely is the only way to go. Perish the thought, we know. Hooray, though, for mocktails, those punch-less little punches that allow you to strut your stuff at the bar, drink in hand, but head home at the end of the night with a clear head and a clean conscience.

The Fresh Fruit-Ade ($6) at 28 Degrees (1 Appleton Street, Boston, 617.728.0728) is the perfect balance of sparkle and your favorite summer flavors — fresh lime, mint, and ginger ale over crushed ice make for a mock mojito that gets its kick from ginger instead of liquor. If juice is more your thing, try the Nectar of the Gods ($6), featuring peach nectar, pineapple and cranberry juices, and fresh lime, served 1990s Paula Abdul style — straight up. (Oh yes, we did.)

Fruity and floral, the No. 44 ($4) at Hungry Mother (233 Cardinal Medeiros Avenue, Cambridge, 617.499.0090) combines mint, simple syrup, and fresh lemon juice with Peychaud’s bitters to produce a cool summer sipper that’s light on the tongue and on the belly. Also stellar is the No. 45 ($4), an elixir made with tonic water, honey syrup, and orange bitters that goes down smooth and sweet.

Hidden Newbury Street gems are hard to come by, especially if you’re so familiar with that stretch of the city that you’ve become — yawn! — jaded about the whole ’hood. But we contend that Trident Booksellers & Café (338 Newbury Street, Boston, 617.267.8688) is a fine place to camp out with a beverage while you pore through the pages of a new acquisition or conspire with friends about your Back Bay adventures. Our favorite of Trident’s fresh fruit and vegetable concoctions is the Backache ($4.75), a fizzy delight made from ginger root, apple, and seltzer. It’s so refreshing, so cleansing, so damned delicious, you may swear off of booze forever — or at least until bikini season is behind you.

Grape meets grain: Cocktails made with wine

Sara Faith Alterman — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 14:00:00 GMT

Agonizing over having to choose between wine and liquor tonight? Yes, yes, it’s a tough problem to have. Wine is more appropriate with dinner, whereas cocktails can be more adventurous … a torturous decision indeed. Clearly, cocktails made with wine are the perfect solution.

This isn’t reinventing the wheel, kids — mixing wine with fruit juice, spices, herbs, other booze … it’s all been done for ages, with all varieties of vino. To what extent? Glad you asked. A.J. Rathbun’s new book, the aptly named Wine Cocktails, is an A-to-Zinfandel guide to mixing and appreciating cocktails that show off any vintage of red, white, blush, or bubbly. Jammed with recipes and booze-soaked anecdotes, the book is a witty and funny celebration of libations from across the nation (and other things that rhyme). We’re especially intrigued by the “Rosé Squirt,” made with dry rosé and maraschino liqueur, because it sounds both incredibly refreshing and incredibly naughty. Visit www.ajrathbun.com for more delicious info on the man and the manuscript.

Of course, not everyone’s a DIY kind of drinker. Thankfully, there are wine cocktails aplenty at your favorite bars. Check out the Poire Boy ($11) at OM (92 Winthrop Street, Cambridge, 617.576.2800); it’s made with pear brandy, Mathilde Pear liqueur, and Dubonnet Rouge, an herby wine-based aperitif. The drink is sweetly heady, ripe with luscious pear flavor, and perfect for sipping on the OM patio, which overlooks one of the quaintest side streets in Cambridge.

Sangria is clearly a given here. Wine plus liquor plus fruit juices equals the ultimate wine cocktail, no? Summertime drink menus are brimming with nouveau renditions of this classic Spanish punch, but our new favorite? The Blackberry Sangria ($13) at Sensing (5 Battery Street, Boston, 617.994.9001) features red wine with Pisco, fresh blackberries, pomegranate juice, agave, and cinnamon.

Of course, you could always rendezvous over at, um, Rendezvous (502 Mass Ave, Cambridge, 617.576.1900) with a head-spinning Safe Harbor ($10), a glorious concoction of Cognac, orange juice, grenadine, and white port that will, at the very least, offer you welcome refuge from sobriety. Anchors away, winos!

Hot shot: Tabasco Tequila

Sara Faith Alterman — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 14:00:00 GMT

Considering that the cocktail market has been flooded with “kicked-up” margaritas over the past year or so, it seems only natural that someone, somehow, would come up with a spicy tequila. It was only a matter of time, especially given the recent infusions craze that had bartenders scheming up drinkable (though sometimes just barely) concoctions imbued with herbs, spices, fruits, and, um, pork products. And while they’re not the first to do so, the capsicum-happy pepperheads at McIlhenny Company have teamed up with Heaven Hill Distilleries to create a pre-spiced voodoo juice, no infusion required. Behold … Tabasco Spicy Tequila.

The tequila looks innocuous enough — no toxic cherry-red hues here, just clean, amber liquid that belies the ensuing heat. It’s not a face-puckering torture session; it’s kind of sweet, actually, with hints of habañero and vinegar. Our own Mike Diskin says it reminds him of the “ball buster” shots (made with equal parts hot sauce and tequila) he and his buddies used to do in college. Well boys, Tabasco’s done the leg work for you. Less time mixing = more time imbibing = more opportunities to make out with sorority girls and their grown-up counterparts.

Launched in September, this potent potion has made its way to Boston. Tequila-philes can knock it back, Mexican spring-break style, at Harvard Gardens (316 Cambridge Street, Boston, 617.523.2727), Cactus Club (939 Boylston Street, Boston, 617.236.0200), and Revolution Rock Bar (200 High Street, Boston, 617.261.4200). If you’d prefer to experiment with tequila-based favorites at home, you can pick up a bottle at Charles Street Liquors (143 Charles Street, Boston, 617.523.5051) or Libby’s Liquor Market (575 Mass Ave, Cambridge, 617.354.3678). This agreeably fiery spirit is begging for salt, so naturally, it makes a killer margarita — try adding Cointreau for a pleasing fruity balance. Spice up your hangover brunches by pre-gaming with spicy Bloody Marys, and, for a simple treat, Tabasco Tequila and ginger ale (a “Tabasco Tall”) is a headstrong tango of spice and sweet. Visit www.tabascotequila.com for more recipes.