Easy, fun, and SWANKY

Now someday it may happen that a victim must found you will find yourself hosting a little soirée for a friend’s book launch, and you will think to yourself how nice it would be to have those little plastic plates with the event  printed on them.  But you don’t have them, because a) they’re expensive; b) you only need a couple dozen, not 500; and c) you waited too late to even try to get them.

So you make your own:

Here’s how.

Open your favorite program to make posters/brochures/labels/bookmarks.  I use Apple’s Pages because it has everything I need.

Create a rectangle the size of your label (clear mailing labels are what we’re looking at here.)  I got 2″x4″ labels.  To make it easier to select the rectangles later, make sure that the rectangle is filled with white.  (If you leave it just blank, then you have to click exactly on the border to select the rectangle, and that’s going to be very tedious indeed.)

Now fill it with your text blocks and images and whatever.

One reason I like Pages is that when you’re in “canvas” mode, little blue lines pop up to show you when objects are aligned/centered/etc.

Pro tip: once you get your one label made to your satisfaction, select everything and GROUP THEM so that nothing slides out of place.

Here’s the critical step: flip that sucker horizontally:

Think about it: you’re going to be peeling these off and putting them on the bottom of the clear plastic plate.  You’re going to be seeing the label from the other side.

Now:

  • Duplicate your label across.
  • Align the labels.
  • Group them.
  • Duplicate that row and position the new row.
  • Measure your label sheet and position everything to land on the labels.  My labels were edge-to-edge, but if there are spaces between yours you will have to ungroup the row of labels to position each one.
  • Print on a piece of paper, then hold it up to the light behind a label sheet to see if you got the positioning right.
  • Adjust if necessary.

Once you get all the labels where they need to be, here’s the tedious part:

  • UNGROUP everything down to the level where you can select each rectangle and turn off the border line.  In Pages, it’s called the stroke of the object.  Your mileage may vary.  You’re doing this because you don’t need or want the lines, just the contents of the rectangle.
  • I wouldn’t delete the rectangles themselves, because one day you’re going to want to do this again and will need those borders.  If you’re clever, you can LOCK the position of each rectangle so that they won’t slide around by accident and all you have to do is duplicate the contents.
  • Print the labels.
  • Apply them to the bottom of your plates.

Have your soirée.

your host, the author, some rando

And don’t forget to make your bar as hipster as you can:

And bookmarks.  Don’t forget the bookmarks:

Swanky!

(The book, by the way, is Another Farewell to the Theatre, by Marc Honea, pictured above.  It is published by The Lichtenbergian Press and was designed by me.)

Cocktail update: Turff’s Curve

In the Lichtenbergian tradition, there’s a thing called Successive Approximation.  Some day you will be able to read all about it.  After your Abortive Attempt, you step back and do the Gestalt thing and figure out what’s missing.  Then you fix it.

So it is with the Turff’s Curve.  It was tasty, but it lacked depth.  So I futzed with it.

Turff’s Curve (improved)

  • 1.5 oz Calvados
  • .75 oz Swedish Punsch
  • .5 oz Velvet Falernum
  • .25 oz Averna Amaro
  • 3-5 drops 18.21 Havana & Hide bitters
  • lime slice

Much nicer.

The 18.21 Havana & Hide bitters were a discovery recently at the inestimable Decatur Package Store.  For such a small place, its selection for the cocktail craftsman is phenomenal.  Havana & Hide gives a dark flavor/aroma of cigars and leather—a nice complement to the sweetness of the main liquors in the drink.

New Cocktail: Turff’s Curve

This new drink came about, as so often is the case, by making one antique cocktail and then wondering what else one might be able to use one of the rather specific ingredients for.

In this case, I started with The Widow’s Kiss (from Vintage Spirits & Forgotten Cocktails): 1.5 oz Calvados, .75 oz yellow Chartreuse, .75 oz Benedictine, Angostura bitters.  Quite, quite tasty.

That meant I had the bottle of Calvados out on the counter, and then my eye fell on the newish bottle of Velvet Falernum, a sugarcane-based cinnamony kind of liqueur.  Apple and cinnamon, right?  So 1.5 oz of Calvados and .75 oz of Falernum, and it was very good.

However, you usually want three ingredients, and I thought that the drink, tasty as it was, needed a little depth.  But what?

I went to check out the cabinet and I found Swedish Punsch, one of my favorites.  As it happens, it’s also sugarcane-based, but with a deeper, nuttier flavor.  And lo!

Turff’s Curve

  • 1.5 oz Calvados
  • .75 oz Velvet Falernum
  • .75 oz Swedish Punsch
  • 1 lime wheel for garnish

Stir, strain, garnish.

Why is it called “Turff’s Curve”?  Kevin McInturff has a FaceTubes group called Turffin, and mostly it’s people posting photos of the beer they’re drinking.  I’m an outlier with my penchant for craft cocktails, and when I posted the aforementioned Widow’s Kiss, Turff jokingly complained that I never posted drinks that didn’t require a trip to the liquor store for some new substance.  I felt that this recipe was the apotheosis of throwing him a curve, since it was probable that he didn’t own any of the ingredients.

He of course claims it’s because I described the drink as “Sweetish, with bitter and nutty undertones.”  That, too.

New(ish) cocktail: Honey Please

I was looking through my cocktail notebook last night and decided to test one of my originals that I think I only made the one time.  It didn’t sound as if it would actually be viable; best to make sure, and if not, strike it out of the notebook.  ABORTIVE ATTEMPTS and all that.

As it turns out, it wasn’t an ABORTIVE ATTEMPT, but it was a SUCCESSIVE APPROXIMATION.  The original was simply American Honey and Galliano, but in a burst of inspiration I added Amaro Nonino to it, and now, pending further testing, it works.

Honey Please

  • 1 oz American Honey
  • 1 oz Galliano
  • 1 oz Amaro Nonino
  • 3 dashes orange flower water (optional)
  • basil leaf/lemon peel garnish

Yes, the garnish is a bit twee, but a little showing off never hurt anyone: make two slits in the basil leaf and thread the lemon through it.  If you have a classy triangular pick, stick that through there too.

I’m out of Amaro Nonino, so further testing is moot at this point.  More work is required.

Cocktails: The Best Friend

This one was an accident.

I had copied down a bunch of cocktails from the interwebs, and one of them was called New Friend, ringing changes on a classic cocktail called Old Pal, which in turn is based on the Boulevardier, which in turn is based on the Negroni.  Got that?

Here’s how it goes:

Negroni: equal parts gin, Campari, sweet vermouth

Boulevardier: rye, Campari, sweet vermouth

Old Pal: rye, Campari, dry vermouth

New Friend: rye, Aperol, Cocchi Americano

Yeah, that’s a big jump between the Old Pal and the New Friend, but it works.  You can read about it at Serious Eats.

But then I messed up.  In pulling ingredients, I got the rye and Aperol but then had a brain-fart and grabbed the new bottle of Amaro Nonino, which is not the same as Cocchi Americano.  But the drink was scrumptious, so I finished it before trying the actual New Friend.  (The Cocchi Americano is a vermouth, so it had a brighter, grapier flavor than the mellower Amaro Nonino.  Slight preference to the Amaro Nonino.)

Best Friend

  • 1 oz rye
  • 1 oz Aperol
  • 1 oz Amaro Nonino
  • orange peel

Stir with ice, strain into glass, garnish with orange peel.

New cocktail: the Quarter Moon

Here’s an as-yet unnamed a new cocktail:

Kitteh approved

The Quarter Moon

  • 1-1/2 oz bourbon or rye (bourbon preferred)
  • 1 oz Tuaca liqueur
  • 1/2 oz Averna Amaro
  • orange peel

Shake Stir1, pour into martini glass, garnish with orange peel.

It has a great bitterness to it which includes both the Tuaca’s vanilla/orange undertones and the orange peel’s fresh oils.  A bourbon version would be sweeter than the rye—worth trying!

update: The bourbon version is actually superior!  I’ve named it the Quarter Moon for no good reason.  The orange peel is essential.

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1 Don’t know why I wrote “shake,” when cocktails without citrus juices in them are to be stirred, not shaken.  (James Bond was deliberately ordering his drinks diluted.)

New cocktail: The Early September

Yes, I know I was supposed to blog about travel tips and swag as well as explain to you the different personality approaches to experiencing woo.

Too bad, because I have a new cocktail.

I may not have mentioned that I’m starting to experiment with making my own bitters.  Nothing real yet, but I have beaucoups Mason jars of tinctures:

Things like orris root and quassia and yes, sarsaparilla, all soaking in Everclear™ and ready to be used.

But how?  That was the question.

Recently—I’m going to claim that it came to me during the woo experiences in Sedona—I had the idea to create a thing called “tincture cocktails.”  The concept is very simple: some vodka, some tincture, possibly some citrus, and probably some sweetener.  It’s new, it’s hip, it will sweep the nation.

And after a few mis-starts last night, we have a winner.  (We actually have two, but I have to acquire some caramel liqueur to double-check the second one.)

The Early September

  • 1.5 oz vodka
  • .5 oz amaretto
  • .25 oz lemon juice
  • .25 tsp angelica tincture
  • lemon curl; stevia leaf (optional)

Shake the liquids with ice.  Pour, and garnish with the lemon curl and a bruised stevia leaf.

It’s very tasty and a good start to my new cocktail/bartending empire.

New cocktail: the Franco-American

There is, in the inestimable Ultimate Bar Book, a cocktail called The Parisian (p. 200).  It’s equal parts gin, dry vermouth, and créme de cassis.  In other words, it’s a martini with sweetness.

It was OK, but I thought it could be better, and so we now have…

THE FRANCO-AMERICAN

  • 1 oz gin
  • 1 oz Cocchi Americano
  • 1 oz créme de cassis
  • 1 dash lemon bitters

Stir, don’t shake.  (The rule is that if the admixture has citrus juice in it, shake.  Otherwise, stir.)

Cocchi Americano is a vermouth itself, one of those endless parades of aperitifs that will clutter your bar if you start down that path.  It’s very tasty in and of itself.

Not bad at all.  You could lessen the sweetness by cutting the cassis to 3/4 oz, and/or by adding lemon juice.  (But still stirred, not shaken, Mr. Bond.)

It pairs particularly well with a salty goat cheese, which is what we were knoshing on when I mixed this up.

Cocktails—a new frontier

I’ve been busy.

First of all, you may recall that I blogged about re-jiggering [see what I did there?] the recipe for a margarita calling for árbol chile tincture, among other twee ingredients.  I am now calling it “Dale’s Magic Margarita” and it’s still tasty.  I double-checked it yesterday.  Okay, I triple-checked it.  It was delicious.

I have planted an árbol chile plant in my herb garden, and it’s started producing.  The internet says that the eftest way to dry the chiles is to put them in your fridge, so I’m trying that experiment.  When the summer is over, I shall have enough chiles to make a lot of the tincture, so…

Guess what everyone’s getting for Christmas?

Side note: I ordered a dozen of the 5 oz bottles.  They’re called “woozy bottles” from the what-else-should-we-call-it cap insert, that little plastic thing with a hole in it that you squirt bitters out of.  However, I just discovered yesterday that these are just the bottles, sans woozies.  I found the woozies at specialtybottle.com, where I can see that I will be spending more money in the future as I pursue my new interest in tinctures, syrups, infusions, and bitters.

Today, I set about making a dandelion & burdock syrup.   D&B, as it is not called in Great Britain, is a soda flavor, and I found a recipe for the syrup.  Easy-peasy, and it’s done.

The reason I wanted to make this stuff is to recreate the Root Daiquiri, an especially delicious cocktail from my favorite bar anywhere, Sovereign Remedies in Asheville, NC.  Their recipe also includes sarsaparilla, but oddly that is not immediately available in Newnan, GA, so my first attempt is without it.  More work is required.

It is nonetheless quite tasty.

Root Daiquiri

  • 1.5 oz rum
  • 1 oz lime juice
  • .5-.75 dandelion & burdock syrup

Shake, pour, and serve.

(By the way, the D&B bottle has chalkboard tape on it you guys!  You can find it—along with whiteboard tape—at Office Depot.  Besides being just cool as beans, it’s also temporary: you can remove it from most surfaces.  In the photo above, I’ve trimmed the edges with deckle-edge scissors because hipster.)

My next venture will be to create a tincture of lovage, a cool herb that is kind of a peppery/celery flavor, from which I will make a lovage bitters.  Don’t ask me how I will use it.

I’m back!

Yes, I know—but I’ve been busy.  I spent five weeks in Columbus, GA, as a guest artist at the Springer Opera House in a very lovely production of Born Yesterday, playing the drunken lawyer Ed Devery with as much professionalism as I could scrape together.  The struggle was real, and that’s not the kind of thing I document in public.1  My fellow cast members were boffo, and I think in the end I acquitted myself well.

Sure, I could have blogged about my continuing work on A Christmas Carol—I have made it to the “Finale” and will have it finished by the middle of June—but that’s dull blogging.

I could have blogged about the continuing outrages on the rightward flank of American politics, but Wonkette does that so much funnierly than I do.

Oh well—apologies all round.

So I’m back, and for my first post I’m blogging about a new cocktail, as is my wont.

This is the Molly 22.A, concocted for a dinner party honoring the graduation and 22nd birthday of young Molly Honea, who is now the proud possessor of two useless degrees from the University of Georgia.  She has always demanded requested that I create a cocktail for special occasions, and by “special occasions” she means any get-together that she’s attending.

She likes gin—and we must applaud her perspicacity for acquiring such sophisticated taste in the mere one year she has been drinking alcohol—and citrus, so I started there.  It was fruitful research.

MOLLY 22.A

  • 1.5 oz gin
  • 1 oz yellow Chartreuse
  • .5 oz lemon juice
  • 1 dash lemon bitters
  • optional: .5 tsp grenadine (the real kind); a few drops kava extract

Throw the gin, Chartreuse, lemon juice, and bitters into the shaker.  Shake with ice, strain.

If you have real grenadine, drop that into the glass and let it sink to the bottom.  If you’re a dirty freaking hippie and have kava extract lying around, it’s fun to add that to the mix before you shake it.

Now the fun part:

MOLLY 22.B

Use vodka instead of gin.  It’s a smoother drink, needless to say, without the interest of gin.

MOLLY 22.A.1

Use green Chartreuse instead of yellow.  It’s less sweet and to my taste more layered.

So there you go.  I do have a series of topics I’ll be blogging about, so you can dust off your link to the blog now.

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1 To be clear, I have no problem documenting my struggles and failures, as longtime readers of this blog surely know.  However, I never want my struggles to appear to reflect poorly on others—theatre is a hurly-burly process, and to an outsider it might appear that I’m placing “blame” for my own problems on others in the process.  Nothing would have been farther from the truth.