Sure, you can make pie with summer’s stone fruit bounty, or you could mix it up, like in this take on a classic.
Some times, you want to wander through Brooklyn on a gorgeous spring Sunday, call up one of your favorite people and share a bottle of wine at the hot neighborhood wine bar. All this before heading to said friend’s place to gorge on a large pizza and scream-chew through Game of Thrones. It’s all good, so long as the bottle you’ve fortified yourself with is Broc Wine’s rose-gold Cassia Grenache 2013 Mendocino Rosé. ‘Tis the season, after all. Gotta drink it up before the Hamptons get to it. And there’s no better place to do it than June Wine Bar in Cobble Hill. Delicately floral and bright, the Broc has the soft touch one needs before an hour of teeth-grindingly brutal television. (Pro-tip: While at June, avoid the disapproving gaze of newly minted helicopter moms by steering clear of your bluer haha-material. And don’t trip on the strollers.)
Light, elegant and über-refreshing, the French 75 is the classic cocktail you should be sipping all Spring and Summer. As cocktails go, I love me a boozy fizzy lifting drink, and few are as classic as the French 75. Like all classic cocktails, it’s history is mired in murk and hearsay, but most people agree that it was likely invented in its current iteration 1927, at the height of Prohibition. According to Liquor.com, though, the drink may have roots as far back as 1867, when Charles Dickens would sip a drink called the Champagne cup with a boost of Tom gin. And of course, nothing is new under the sun: adding gin to bubbly (plus citrus and sugar) ain’t really all that creative, but it sure as hell is delicious!
This last month has been quite the doozy and frankly, I’ve been bad at Internet as a result of it. It’s hard to keep up with the blog when there’s so much to do IRL, but let’s give it the whole college try, eh? November was a big month for work: lots of projects, lots of learning. But it was also a fun month of events and press trips. A cruise out to sea—I billed it as the world’s fanciest U-turn—kept me away from the office, while Virginia’s Eastern Shore treated me to waterway adventures in and around Chesapeake Bay, whereupon I ate all the oysters and clams. All o’ dem.
By the time I got off the L in Bushwick this evening, the sky—which had threatened rain all day—released its wet freight. Underground a mere minutes before I butted heads with meteorology, I had already decided to take the long route home, if only to be outside for a short while. I even wanted to go on a run, imagine that. Instead, I was stuck with a drizzly 12 minute door-to-subway-door jaunt. Sigh. Then again, if the worst thing in the world during a light autumn rain is having to take off one’s glasses, well, there’s not really much to complain about. Plus, over the course of my drizzle-stroll, I was able to decide three things:
On Saturday, I was stumbling around a gray Brooklyn, running around conducting errands. Just my luck, the skies decided to open up right as I exited the subway in Ft. Greene/Clinton Hill. Mind you, I have about 20 umbrellas at home (just a rough count). Naturally, I didn’t bring one with me. Sigh. I decided I needed to feed my sweet tooth with chocolate, and luckily, I was across the street from Greene Grape, a well-known specialty grocer. I ducked into the shop for an impromptu mood-lifter and as I perused the shelves, came across this bottle of Grady’s Cold Brew, a “coffee concentrate.” Look at how pretty! Woefully under-caffeinated and wet, with a shift at the bar an hour away, I bought a bottle and went back into the rain.
“I like bars just after they open for the evening. When the air inside is still cool and clean and everything is shiny and the barkeep is giving himself that last look in the mirror to see if his tie is straight and his hair is smooth. I like the neat bottles on the bar back and the lovely shining glasses and the anticipation. I like to watch the man mix the first one of the evening and put it down on a crisp mat and put the little folded napkin beside it. I like to taste it slowly. The first quiet drink of the evening in a quiet bar—that’s wonderful.” —Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye