Liquor in the Cream: The Feminist Pirate

In a semi-regular segment entitled Liquor In The ______ that can’t be too regular because I’m probably drinking right now, I’m going to write to you about all the different ways you can liquor. I recognize that it’s weird, especially for those of you who have actually had a drink with me, because I am what the frat boys would call a “two-beer queer” (what I would call a “no-beer queer,” as I’m gay all the live long day). But I get drunk very easily, is the point. Still, I really really like beer, wine and liquor and want to share that love for the artistry of alcohol with you all, my favorite queers. Let’s lift a pint to alcohol and our Autostraddle community– they go together like wine and soft cheese.

Header by Rosa Middleton

This is a cocktail that I made up out of my mind brain in an effort to use Bittermen’s Xocolatl Mole Bitters.

I’ve had them for, what, three weeks now? And I’ve been in search of a very simple cocktail to try them out with. Most of the recipes I’ve seen that use it have a lot of other ingredients. And I love complicated cocktails with a lot of ingredients! But I just wanted to see how these bitters tasted and mixed, which is hard to pin down if there’s a crap ton of other stuff layered in with it. So I invented The Feminist Pirate – a dessert drink that let’s you taste just a few ingredients, while still being super dessert-y. This is definitely not a cocktail hour drink – this is an after dinner, in place of ice cream drink. It has the look and consistency of a coffee milkshake, but it tastes like rum. Also the name relates to pirates because I turn into Jack Sparrow when I’m drinking rum.

You’ll need:

Dark Spiced Rum (I used The Kraken, which also contributed to the nautical name of the drink)

Cream (or half and half, if you want to lighten it up)

Bittermen’s Xocolatl Mole Bitters

a jigger

a Boston shaker

a Hawthorne strainer

a martini glass

a cinnamon stick (for garnish)

coco powder (optional garnish)

Now for the steps:

1. Chill your martini glass with ice.

2. Fill the metal tumbler bit of your shaker half way with ice.

3. Measure out 1 1/2 oz of The Kraken. Pour it on into the tumbler.

4. Measure out 1/2 oz of the cream. Add that as well.

5. Go with one dash of bitters. One dash is 3-5 drops with the eye dropper that it comes with. You actually might be able to go more on this one if you’re so inclined. Add that to the tumbler.

6. Put the pint glass into the Boston shaker at an angle and smack it to create a good seal. Shake vigorously.

7. Strain into a martini glass. Garnish with a cinnamon stick.

8. Optional – if you want a hearty whiff of chocolate when you’re taking a sip, sprinkle the tiniest bit of cocoa powder onto the surface of the drink. The teeniest, tiniest bit.

And here you have it! A very simple, very rum-y Feminist Pirate. It’s kind of in the same vein as a mudslide except less sweet, more bitter.

P.S. Some runners up for the name of this cocktail were St. Elmo’s Fire, Deck Swabber, and “something with mermaids” because Laneia likes mermaids. Just thought y’all might like to know. I’m gonna go sleep off my Jack Sparrow now.

On Sobriety, Recovery and the Art of Not Dating

feature image via shutterstock

I read this piece at Solo in the 2nd City’s “Home (Alone) For The Holidays,” on Dec 11, 2012, at Beauty Bar, Chicago. Below is my intro and the piece in its entirety.

“Soooo, I’m a lesbian—although, you should know my membership to the Mo Club is in danger of lapsing due to inactivity. But, I’m excited about being here tonight. Thanks to Carly and Melinda for the invitation. This is a big week for me. Just hit my 18th month of sobriety yesterday actually. To mark this occasion, and relate it to the Home Alone For The Holidays reading tonight, I wanted to talk about my dating experiences before and after sobriety.”

This will be only my second holiday season without drugs and alcohol. I started smoking marijuana when I was thirteen. Drinking at fifteen. Ate tons of mushrooms and LSD and E, did K and GHB –basically, as a baby dyke I was nurtured during my teenage years by an electric alphabet soup of drugs. But eventually, I grew older and ended up with a very grown-up, very tired and boring, alcohol and cocaine problem. So, at the age of 30—refusing to believe any other number than 30 is the new 30, because that’s the equivalent of saying ‘lying is the new truth’—I decided to get some professional help for my addiction.

My treatment included outpatient rehab, individual counseling and weekly support group attendance—and when I say ‘support group’ it’s not AA, because AA weirds me out. Instead of 12 steps, my group has four steps. In a world of 12 steppers—and half steppers—yes, I’m a proud quarter stepper. In any case, I remember thinking, going into treatment, about how much better my life would be once I could completely rid myself of my addictions. I thought: “If only I could stop getting so fucked up all the time, I could be more productive. I could better focus on my studies. I could go up a flight of stairs without coughing up a lung. I could go down a flight of stairs without falling down. I could find genuine beauty and peace without having to buy substances that just trick me into seeing that where it doesn’t exist. More importantly, I could be a normal person and have normal romantic relationships with normal women. How novel!”

Early on in my sobriety, my therapists (yes, therapists, plural) and my support group buddies, advised me to avoid dating for six to twelve months while I pursued my recovery. I was told that I would need time to myself, to sort myself out. Sure, some people had partners that helped them through recovery but more often, relationships, even when not primarily negative, were taxing and pulled your focus away from sobriety.

At first, I took this advice to avoid dating to heart, and was comforted by it in fact. At that point in my early recovery, my shitty, alcohol-infused dates and such were still top-of-mind. I wanted to distance myself from them. The last official date I went on prior to my start of sobriety was with a woman I met on the internet. She seemed nice enough on screen. She was funny, smart, educated, according to her profile, we shared the same political and religious beliefs. And based on her profile picture, featuring a round sweaty face and bloated paw-like appendage holding a Miller Lite bottle, we shared some important hobbies, too: namely, overeating and drinking to excess. So, after a little fun back and forth online, we decided to meet for dinner and a couple drinks. A pretty basic date.

It was a cold evening in January. I arrived at the restaurant to find her drenched in sweat. I stuck to her when we hugged hello. I didn’t know why she was covered in sweat: she didn’t say and I didn’t ask. I thought it would be rude to ask, so instead I decided to scan the room for the waiter and quickly ordered the first drink of what would prove to be not enough.

This woman I had thought was so smart and funny in earlier email exchanges had nothing really interesting to say in person and I found myself doing all the heavy lifting during the conversation. No seriously, the beer stein was super heavy and lifting it up after every inane thing she said quickly wore me out. Throughout the date, she maintained one of the strangest facial expressions I have ever seen on a person—and mind you, I am a student of psychology. I’m a social psychologist in training, and have watched hundreds of hours of recorded interviews in research labs in which, under the tutelage of highly trained professors, I’ve observed and analyzed countless facial expressions. That being said, her shit was just weird. Her affect was flat but her eyes were unnaturally wide. Her facial expression looked like a cross between being bored and terrified. Also, she kept yawning. I found it hard to not take that personally. I mean, I’m fucking funny. Shit.

“Oh, sorry about the yawning,” she explained ” I’ve been up since 11 am.”

It was 6 pm.

I thought about offering her some of the cocaine I had brought with me but I was afraid it would make her more talkative and she would just prattle on even more. Sensing both my waning interest, and her own inability to hold a decent conversation, she started to overshare with me; telling me shocking, secret things, asking inappropriate questions, in the hopes that would create a sense of intimacy where there clearly wasn’t one.

“Sometimes I have threesomes with my two female roommates,” she blurted out while the waiter was clearing the table.

“Well, good for you” I replied.

“Have you ever had a threesome?” she continued.

“No, I can’t say that I have.” Swig, swig.

She was relentless with her follow up questions. She asked, “Are you a gold star lesbian?”

I never heard that one before, “Uh, gold star?”

She broke it down, “Yes, gold star. A gold star lesbian is a lesbian who’s never slept with a man. Have you ever had sex with a man?”

“So, there’s a ranking system now? What the hell…” I was turned off by her very bold line of questioning regarding my sexual history. There was nothing cute or flirtatious about her broaching this conversation topic. Rather, I felt as if she were administering an LGBT health survey to me. We were already in Andersonville, taking a health survey in a bar wouldn’t have seemed that out of the ordinary.

Seeing me down my fourth beer in about 40 minutes, she said, “You know, once I drank so much I shit my pants. Has that ever happened to you?”

Silence.

“No, that has never happened to me. I have never shat myself while drunk…or any other time outside of when I was a baby in diapers” I clarified.

The look of disgust on my face was not enough for her to stop talking. She proceeded to tell me about the one time she shat on herself after drinking too much—and then she told me about the three other times she shat on herself while drinking too much. She described in graphic detail, sitting in shit, feeling the shit in her pants, on one occasion, waking up with shit everywhere in her bed…

Instead of just getting up and walking away, I let her go on while I drew up a proper exit strategy. While she nervously yammered on, I focused on my own thoughts. Thoughts like: WHO THE HELL TALKS ABOUT SHIT LIKE THIS ON A FIRST DATE? DOES SHE WANT TO SEND ME AWAY RUNNING AND SCREAMING? WHAT KIND OF TACTIC IS THAT FOR LETTING SOMEONE KNOW YOU’RE NOT FEELING HER? WHATEVER HAPPENED TO JUST CUTTING A DATE SHORT AND TELLING SOMEONE YOU’RE NOT INTERESTED? WHAT KINDA SICK GAME IS THIS? IS IT A GAME? IF not, why would she think this is acceptable? Is she into scat play? UGH, Is this her way of telling me? Wait, am I judging her too harshly? I mean, I’ve done lots of fucked up things while drunk. Shitting my pants is probably the ONLY fucked up thing I haven’t done while drunk. OH MY GOD, does this mean then, that in a way, we complete each other? Maybe I should see where this is going…

I eventually came to my senses and I interrupted her shit tales as I realized she had no intention of changing the topic on her own, “Look, I need to head out,” I said. I threw my napkin down and called for the check. All of a sudden every woman who ever talked about her ex on a first date didn’t look so bad. Being hung up on someone from your past is normal. Shitting yourself, and bragging about it, not so much.

Getting up from the table, both of us heading to the door, she said “I had fun tonight, can I call you again?”

“No!” I firmly replied. “Let’s not…”

She asked, “Was it the shit talk?” She seemed concerned.

“Yes, that was the point of no return when I knew I would definitely not be seeing you again. Sorry.” I left her with some advice, though: “Next time, don’t talk about that with anyone on a first date. Actually, I would say don’t talk about that with anyone. Period. Maybe you should mention it to your doctor though, failure to remain continent could signal a bigger problem—especially for a young woman. You should check that out.”

And so went that shitty date—the last official date I went on while actively drinking.

But, after I had a few months of sobriety, I started to feel like maybe I should get back out there and try dating again. Maybe the six month to a year ban on dating wasn’t in my best interest. Maybe it was more of a suggestion. My sobriety buddies told me that if I wanted to get back out there, I needed to avoid dating anyone who drinks. With this in mind, I approached a woman I met in one of my support groups. We exchanged numbers and yes, some texts of a sexual nature were exchanged.

During the last text conversation we had, I mentioned that my back was killing me—and no, that wasn’t meant to be sexy. I was just complaining after a long day of working at my computer. She replied that if I let her come over, she knew some tricks to make me feel better. The body of her message, proceeded by three winking emoticons, read that she was good with her hands and she could work out the knots in my back. When I playfully replied asking her what else she could work out with her hands, she texted back and said “for $50, I’ll go wherever you need me to go.”

I froze. During our support meetings, I remembered her talking about doing sex work in the past. I thought to myself: Is this what I think it is? Is this woman actually trying to sell me a fingerbang? I had no script for this situation. What do I do? What do I say? I didn’t know. So, I said nothing. And we haven’t texted or talked or otherwise interacted to this day.

The sad part was that the real reason I didn’t take her up on her offer was because $50 seemed kinda steep for that service. Maybe if there was some sort of rewards card or loyalty program… MAYBE. Like buy four get the fifth free. Five finger discount. But I didn’t have that kind of money to waste on get rubbed off. She had me wrong, I’m broke. And I had her wrong, too: She wasn’t interested in me, she was looking for clients.

There were a few more missed connections with other people around that same time I chose to lift the dating ban but shortly after that, I decided to just stop looking altogether. Fuck dating. I’m done. And that’s where I am now.

My sobriety has led me to a new found respect for alcohol, actually. Alcohol helps dull the pain of embarrassment, the realization that these connections I imagined with these women were really just that: imagined. Of course, instead of reaching for a strong, memory-altering salve, I could reexamine my approach to relationships and I could learn to think differently about my love life—but who has time for that shit? Drugs and alcohol provide immediate relief to the hurt of hearing “let’s just be friends” or “BITCH, stop calling me!” Getting high helps soothe you while navigating the ups and downs of the disappointing dating game, including the ups and downs of being mistaken for a John (or in my case, a Jane) and listening to someone you thought you were interested in talk about defecating on herself.

My sobriety buddies warned me that if I violated the ban on dating before I was ready, I might be pushed into a relapse. Instead, I’ve just been pushed into never wanting to date again.

I’m okay with that.

Originally published on SoDamnTired. Republished WITH PERMISSION MOTHERF*CKERS.

About the author: J. N. Reyna is a queer Chicana born and raised in Chicago. She is a writer and researcher currently working toward obtaining her doctorate in social psychology. Broadly, her academic research interests include the self, social identity, and consumer psychology. To stay current with her daily musings, you can find her on Twitter @reynabot and at her blog, http://www.SoDamnTired.com.

Stand Tall and Drink Up: Meet the Lesbian Couple Behind “Genetic” Wine

Larisa Stephenson and Dana Sabin of Stand TALL Wine Co.

Long before Dana Sabin and Larisa Stephenson launched their own wine label in Northern California, they were just two girls playing for the North Shore Women’s Rugby Club in Chicago, full of love and longing. Well, Dana, who is 5’1, was mostly full of her “fear of getting killed.” That fear was obviously unrealized, but she did break her wrist, and luckily her teammate Larisa, a kinesiologist, was on-hand to deal with the injury. “That was my in,” Larisa explains to us over glasses of Pinot Noir in the cellar at Sabina Vineyards.

From that fated union came not only a successful relationship but eventually a thriving business partnership: Stand Tall Wine Company, which uses Sabina Vineyards in Saint Helena for producing and bottling its first wine label, Genetic. We met Dana and Larisa at the estate in what is referred to as “winter” in less temperate climates to hear more about their new company and taste the goods.

me and Autostraddle.com co-founder Alexandra Vega with a bottle of wine

The Little Wine History

Napa is, of course, best known for its vineyards, the first of which was opened in 1859 by John Patchett, a settler who’d been trained in Pennsylvania as a brewmaster and went West during the California Gold Rush. His winemaker, Charles Krug, would eventually establish the valley’s first commercial winery north of St.Helena. By the end of the nineteenth century, over 140 wineries were thriving in Napa Valley, which all suffered a communal setback in the 1920s due to prohibition and an ill-timed phylloxera infestation. After World War II, the wine industry picked back up, with big-name wineries popping up throughout the area, and Robert Mondavi broke away from his family’s Charles Krug estate to launch what is now the Valley’s most famous vineyard. Today over four hundred wineries are currently operating in Napa County, and Napa Valley hosts more than 45,000 acres planted to grapes. It’s a worldwide tourist attraction and a popular day or weekend trip for Northern Californians who like pretty scenery and drinking a lot. California accounts for almost 90% of America’s total wine production.

But only 9.8 percent of California wineries are headed up by women, although it can seem like more because on the whole, the wines made by women are more highly acclaimed based on the ratio of female vs. male winemakers. So it isn’t just being openly gay that make Dana and Larisa’s enterprise unique, it’s also their gender.

When Dana’s job (she’s a Social Worker) moved the couple out to Napa Valley from Chicago, they were surprised by the lack of LGBTQ community in the area, especially relative to the more visibile community in nearby Sonoma. “Moving to Napa from Chicago was a huge change,” says Dana. “It’s not just the few gays that are out here (we love you — come out!), it’s that there’s a lack of diversity, which is stifling in its own way.” Dana and Larisa got involved with the Napa LGBTQ Project, which works to create a more visible, supported community through outreach to local populations and businesses as well as engaging directly with the youth and older adult population. This involvement coincided with their increasing interest in wine and wine-making, which was surely helped along by Dana’s parents, Susan and David, owners of Sabina Vineyards in Saint Helena.

“I got interested in starting a wine company ’cause I wanted to create labels that support causes I believe in and ‘stand tall’ for,” said Larisa. “I also felt like there was this niche market out there that was being neglected by the large wine companies.”

“Larisa obviously had the passion to start this company and after many months of convincing, I realized she was right and this would be a great idea,” says Dana. “She also would not return my iPhone until I agreed to join her on this endeavor.”

A First for LGBTQ-Marketed Wine

As far as Dana and Larisa are aware, Genetic is the first LGBTQ wine label ever produced. (The second, Égalité, from Biagio Cru & Estate Wines, was released in January, and incorrectly touted as the first by news outlets which have since corrected themselves and mentioned Genetic). Genetic is a 2010 Pinot Noir from Willamette Valley, Oregon, and 1% of total sales go towards the Napa LGBTQ Project.  Dana and Larisa hope to donate a larger percentage of sales to LGBTQ causes as their label grows more successful. (We actually connected with them in the first place because of the generous donation they made to our fundraising campaign!) Right now both women still hold down full-time jobs and are pursuing the wine thing in their spare time, which comes with its own challenges, especially in an industry that tends to attract the already-wealthy.

It’s always a challenge to combine business with pleasure, but lesbians have been undaunted by that warning for centuries, Dana and Larisa included. “We’ve definitely had a few more squabbles than we would have had if we weren’t running a wine company,” says Larisa. “However, we made the choice to open a wine company thinking about where we would like to be in the future as a family. At the end of the day, our relationship is stronger because we started this company.”

It certainly seems that way — Dana and Larisa are delightful human beings and a super-cute couple and, despite not being a fan of red wine in general, I found Genetic precisely as intimidating as Dana and Larisa, which is to say: not at all. I love it. If I was a wine expert, I’d note its aromas of wild cherry, sour cherry, blackberry and plum or the “transcendant” ruby and maroon color and then add that it “exhibits all the character of the burgundy with the definite terroir of the Eola Hills in Willamette Valley Oregon.

“We’re surrounded by Cabernet Sauvignon here in Napa Valley, and we wanted to do something different,” Dana said of their decision to make a Pinot Noir.

It was a wise choice. I think we killed a bottle in less than an hour, and went home with extra bottles in tow, which pleased our dinner guests quite a bit:

If you like good wine, lesbians and women-owned independent businesses, you can get your very own bottle of genetic at the Stand Tall website.

Liquor in the Team Pick: I Want To Drink “Writers Tears”

In a semi-regular segment entitled Liquor In The ______ that can’t be too regular because I’m probably drinking right now, I’m going to write to you about all the different ways you can liquor. I recognize that it’s weird, especially for those of you who have actually had a drink with me, because I am what the frat boys would call a “two-beer queer” (what I would call a “no-beer queer,” as I’m gay all the live long day). But I get drunk very easily, is the point. Still, I really really like beer, wine and liquor and want to share that love for the artistry of alcohol with you all, my favorite queers. Let’s lift a pint to alcohol and our Autostraddle community– they go together like wine and soft cheese.

Header by Rosa Middleton

Ali’s Team Pick:

We’re big fans of whiskey here. There’s an entire kitten devoted to where the whiskey comes from. Maybe you’ve noticed.

Photography © jmberman1 2009

That’s why when Writers Tears (which bewilderingly doesn’t seem to have an apostrophe anywhere in it) was brought to my attention (thank you Laneia), I knew we had to share this with the queermo, whiskey-loving world.

Writers Tears is a pure pot still Irish Whiskey, meaning it’s made with both malted and unmalted barley. According to the Writers Tears website:

Pure Pot still came about in 1802 as a reaction to the introduction of Tax’s by the British on Irish Malt Whiskey. Irish Whiskey accounted for 90% of all the worlds exported whiskey and was seen as a cash cow by the British. By introducing this tax they hoped to “Cash in” on their neighbors good fortune. However in an effort to avoid taxes the Irish Distiller decided to use a higher percentage of unmalted barley (as opposed to Malted Barley) into the still.

This style of Irish Whiskey gained in popularity, earning the title “the Champagne of Irish Whiskey.” What does this mean it tastes like? I’m not sure, as I know more about champagne than Irish Whiskey. But according to several reviews, like this one and this one here, and also the tasting notes, you can hope to taste:

– soft punky flavors

– caramel

– honey tones

– no bitterness

– citrus tones

– a soft vanilla

via AK Graphics

And on one thing everyone can agree: it’s amazing Irish Whiskey, the best you can buy at that price point (38 euro). So basically, it sounds fucking delicious.

According to Jim Murray’s Whisky Bible:

There is a wonderfully Irish irony that a whisky dedicated to Ireland’s extraordinary literary heritage should be represented by a label, even a brand name, so punctually inept; it’s almost brilliant. The reason for the Writers(sic) Tears, if from the spirits of James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, George Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde and perhaps even Maurice Walsh, whose grandson became a legendary blender at Irish Distillers, will be open to debate: we will never know whether they laughed or cried.

Yes, I’m team picking it because I, as a writer, cry a lot of tears. And those tears are often paired with whiskey. And I like both Irish writers and Irish Whiskey. This is basically two of my favorite things: nice, smooth liquor and literature. I’d like to drink this whiskey and read a lot of books, together at the same time. So yes, the name caught my attention first, and I think the name is just the bestest. But unfortunately for me it’s not available in the US just yet. Which means that I am left with only one question:

Which of our readers in Ireland would be willing to send me a bottle? [Ed. note: Me too?]

Liquor in the Wine Cellar: Learning Words for Wine

In a semi-regular segment entitled Liquor In The ______ that can’t be too regular because I’m probably drinking right now, I’m going to write to you about all the different ways you can liquor. I recognize that it’s weird, especially for those of you who have actually had a drink with me, because I am what the frat boys would call a “two-beer queer” (what I would call a “no-beer queer,” as I’m gay all the live long day). But I get drunk very easily, is the point. Still, I really really like beer, wine and liquor and want to share that love for the artistry of alcohol with you all, my favorite queers. Let’s lift a pint to alcohol and our Autostraddle community– they go together like wine and soft cheese.

Header by Rosa Middleton

feature image via NY Daily News

Talking about wine can be a bit intimidating. I used to sweat when I walked into a wine shop and had to ask questions. That intimidation may have stemmed from me coming of age in France, where not only did I not know what I was talking about when it came to wine, but also because French was my second language and I didn’t always know how to verbalize what I meant. When I came back to the US, I found that asking about wine was a piece of cake! I got to do it in English! I’d get to pushed to the front of the line whenever my friends had wine questions. Getting good French wine that I could pay for in coins, however, was impossible.

The thing about wine is most of us know what we like when we taste it, we just can’t verbalize what we like about it in a way a wine enthusiast might comprehend us. But how do we try new wines that are similar? How do we discover the new possibilities? And how to we figure out what wine goes with what food? Well, for that, we probably have to ask that sexy queer lady behind the counter. You know. The one who works at the wine shop/liquor store/winery and knows a crap ton about wine. We’re collectively afraid she will judge us. She probably won’t, but it would help to be comfy with the lingo. Helps the confidence and all. I’m going to break some wine terminology down from the point of view of someone who knows what she likes and likes to ask questions, not from the point of view of an expert.

via Wine Folly

Color

White

White wine is typically, but not always, lighter-bodied and less intense. It’s got more of a tang to it. It’s often considered refreshing.

White comes in three variations of color: nearly colorless, pale yellow and gold. These differences can result from the wine’s maturity level, but also a ton of other factors, like how cold it is in Germany where these particular grapes are grown. Or even in the winery’s particular winemaking process.

Pink

This is the least common of the colors and is most often called a Rosé. They’re usually light- to medium-bodied and don’t age well, so they’re usually young and unoaked.

Like white, there are three color depths: blush pink, bright pink and deep magenta.

Red

Red wines are red because the grapes are red or purple. They usually have a high flavor intensity. They are also generally fuller-bodied and more astringent.

As with rosés and whites,  reds come in three varieties: pale red, deep red and dark red.

Normally with any of these, the deeper the color, the more intense the flavor.

Sweet v. Dry

Every wonder wtf dry wine means? I mean, wine is liquid. It’s wet. In wine speak, dry actually just means “not sweet.” Which means where a wine falls on the sweet v. dry spectrum is determined by how much residual sugar is left in the winemaking process. Remember that just because a wine is fruity doesn’t mean it’s sweet – all about the sugar. Most wines are actually dry. There’s also an in the middle category – off-dry. Off-dry just means that there’s a detectable sweetness, it’s just not overpowering. The category is of “sweet” is usually reserved for dessert wines and Moscatos.

Tannin

Tannin is found in all plants and acts as a preservative. It’s astringent and found in many mildly bitter foods (tea and walnuts, for example). Tannins are only found in red wine due to the winemaking process – tannins are in the skins of grapes, which are included in red wines but not in whites. Many people confuse tannic wine for dry. Dry, as stated above, means not sweet. But when a wine is highly tannic, it makes your mouth feel literally dry. Soft wines don’t do this – they’re sometimes considered easier to drink (though that is certainly a matter of personal preference). Anything down the middle is called supple.

Acidity

Ever sucked on a lemon? That’s the part of wine we’re talking about when we’re talking acidity. The taste that makes your mouth pucker up. Wines come in creamy, crisp and tart (low acidity, medium acidity and high acidity respectively). Creamy wines are usually full-bodied (I know, we’ll get to that in a bit). Most wines are going to be either crisp or tart, especially wines produced for pairing with food (they have to be able to stand up to strong food flavors). Grapes grown in cold climates often produce the most acidic wines.

Fruit

This is actually referring to how the wine smells as well as tastes – when we’re talking fruit, we’re talking all the smells and flavors associated with the grapes or fermentation of the grapes. Every wine has a fruit component and they’re all super different. For the purposes of going out and buying what you want, though, just focus on how intense the grape flavors/smells are. Subtle is what one would call the lowest intensity. This includes the majority of sparkling wines and quite a bit of white wine. Flavorful is the middle ground and most wines are somewhere in this range. The last is category here is bold, the most intense fruit flavors/smells. This category houses mostly red wines, but something like Moscato would also be found here. Basically if you open it, smell it, and have the urge to shout “BAM,” it’s probably bold.

Oak

Oak  is the smell/flavor that comes from the barrel the wine ages in. Oak often has a woody/nutty/spicy/earthy flavor to it. Like just about everything else, there are three landmarks on the spectrum that can help you ask for what you want: unoaked, mild oak and oaky. Unoaked refers to wine whose flavor and scent comes only from the grapes because they haven’t been fermented and aged in oak barrels. This is the majority of white wine, sparkling wine and rosé. Mild oak is smack in the middle – this is where most reds live, as well as Chardonnays. Oaky means that the woody/nutty/spicy/earthy smell is one of the first things you smell when you open the bottle. Most wine drinkers associate oak with quality and amount of time the wine’s been sitting in the oak barrel, but that isn’t always the case.

Body

Okay, so we’ve finally got here. This is the term I hear bandied about most. This has to do with how the wine feels on your tongue. It’s about thickness of the liquid. I can’t even with this, I write about sex normally and there’s about a million and half jokes in here about thickness, but I will press on without making them. Wine with higher alcohol content is usually fuller-bodied, so the more alcohol there is present in a bottle of wine, the heavier it’s going to feel on your tongue when you drink it. Sweet wines can also be full-bodied, which puts dessert wines on this list.

When you see people swirl their glass of wine, they’re checking for body. Because it’s about how thick the liquid is, you can tell if a wine is fuller bodied if it coats the glass and appears to stick there. Light-bodied wines, the alcohol on the glass falls down really fast because the liquid is thinner. If you want to see this in action, grab some wine glasses and pour heavy cream into one and skim milk into the other. Then swirl the glasses. You’ll see a huge difference.

Bubbles!

Now when I first started drinking wine, I thought there were two kinds: sparkling and not sparkling. Turns out, there’s three – still, which means no bubbles have been left from the fermentation process. And then there’s sparkling, which we can all know and love as that New Year’s Eve drink of Champagne or Prosecco. Then there’s spritz, which means a very, very faint hint of bubbles. This usually dissipates fairly quickly.

Still Not Sure How To Describe What You’re Looking For?

via Wine Folly

Have you found the word to describe that taste you like in wine yet? No? You can always just march into a wine market and list the ingredients in your dinner. If I’m not terribly sure what I want, that’s what I always do. For instance, my girlfriend invented a soup during Hurricane Sandy that we call (drum roll please) hurricane soup! As this is a made up soup, we didn’t know what wine to pair with it just by googling. But when we listed the ingredients (tortellini, vegetable broth, leeks, onions, carrots, white beans and celery) for the people at Union Square Wine Market, they pointed us in the direction of Scuttlehole Chardonnay (unoaked, light-bodied, and perfect for our soup that doesn’t have really heavy ingredients in it).

The bottom line is you shouldn’t be intimidated by wine vocabulary. It’s just a common ground for us to discuss taste, which is highly subjective.

All The Sources

Much of what I’ve learned about wine, I’ve learned from chatting up employees in wine shops and wineries. The best thing to do is go to events and shops where you can taste a bunch and then talk to people about what it is that you’re tasting and what wines are similar. But here are some of the other places I’ve pulled information from. These are the places you should go if you’re looking to learn about wine from an expert.

Leggy and Luscious from Eatocracy, CNN

Corkbuzz

Wine Spectator

Wine Enthusiast

“Wine Simplified,” by Betterbook on Inkling

Astor Wines (the Vimeo channel)

Wine Terroirs (I just envy this guy’s life.)

Wine Julia

Wine Folly

Ode to My Pantry: Cranberry Sauce Leftovers

Learning to feed yourself can be one of the most terrifying things. Am I about to give myself food poisoning? If I eat this too often will I end up with scurvy? How can I get the most nutritional bang for my buck? Why does this still taste like ass?

With Ode to My Pantry, learn to navigate a grocery store without having a meltdown in aisle three. Give a man a fish and feed him for a day, teach a queer to cook and stave off malnutrition for another semester.

It’s mid-January! The holidays are over and it’s time to get back to real life by taking down your decorations, stashing away your holiday playlists and resigning yourself to eating single course meals again. If you’re anything like my family, you overestimated how much cranberry sauce you could consume in a single meal when you bought out aisle three. Or maybe you found the red crack jelly severely discounted post-Christmas and simply couldn’t say no. Either way, if your pantry shelves are as bloated as my stomach is, you’re starting to get the same buyer’s remorse you felt on Boxing Day when you came home clutching a peplum dress.

It’s easy to get rid of post-Thanksgiving cranberry sauce since December forces you to share a holiday spread with your parents, roommates, significant other(s), family-less friends and/or coworkers every other weekend. You have plenty of sandwich opportunities to rid yourself of the relish, but what happens once you’ve used up your turkey vector? It’s harder (but not impossible) to deplete your stores in January, you just need to scheme a bit more.

Keep the cans stashed by your entryway, ready for the next door-to-door food drive? Show up at every single potluck bearing a can of cran? Practice your cylindrical object stacking skills in preparation for the upcoming roller derby season?

You have to build up your beeramid skills sooner or later.

You could just sit on your stash until next Festive Bird Season or you could try disguising your jelly in a way that doesn’t gobble. Even though the red crack-sauce is most associated with turkey and wintry dinner tables, it can find its way into your kitchen well into spring and summer. Get your handy dandy can opener ready to open your sauce and your mind!

Sweeten Something Up

What is cranberry sauce really besides berries, sugar and pectin? Treat it like such and you’ll find baked goods and desserts can be a lot easier with a can handy.

I personally find store-bought pie fillings sickeningly sweet, but there are tons of ideas that put them to good use. You don’t need to go Sandra Lee and perversely empty a can where it needn’t belong, but you can call in cranberry when you legitimately need a sub. My mom would add a swirl of cranberry sauce into her cheesecake tarts and those post-Christmas treats were always a hit.

Whip out the cranberry jelly next time you need to glaze fruit for a cake or a tart. Dissolve it in boiling water as you would apricot jelly and smear away.

Don’t have time and/or patience and/or resources to make a compote? Melt a can of cranberry sauce with a bit of boiling water, orange zest and Cointreau (or any other orange liqueur) and you’re ready to take on any pancake, waffle or bowl of ice cream that comes your way.

Stash Your Extra Cans at Your Bar

There are worse things you could do than drink your leftovers. Cranberry sauce is the perfect mixture of tart, sweet and fruity, making it an especially helpful substitute when your bar has been depleted by holiday parties. Attack your Christmas dinner’s red remnants with the immersion blender you found under your tree and you’ll be able to get yourself out of any cocktail jam.

Run out of sloe gin? (Or don’t even know what sloe gin is?) I’m a sucker for frothy drinks so if I don’t have all of the ingredients for a Sloe Gin Fizz I’ll make do. The traditional cocktail calls for egg whites to give the drink a frothy head, but drinking raw egg whites isn’t for everyone. If you happen to be vegan or worried about salmonella poisoning, know that your stomach’s safe since the sauce slurry supplies your sip with a similarly sudsy structure.

Shake ingredients 1,2,3,4 and 6 over ice and top with 5 to taste. I should learn to order my lists properly.

Run out of sour mix? Follow Chow’s lead and mash up a bit of the jelly with bourbon, amaretto and ginger ale for a fruitier take on an amaretto sour.

Run out of grenadine? Use your homemade syrup in your next Tequila Sunrise or Sex on the Beach. Keep your kiddies happy as well by using said syrup in their Shirley Temple. Keep a few whole cranberries aside if you happened to run out of Maraschino cherries as well.

Fill an ice cube tray with your leftover jelly to keep your cocktails cool. If you’re a vodka-cranberry type of person, this will come in handy.

Just Eat the Damn Stuff

When in doubt, it’s still jam, damnit. Spoons, bagels and sandwiches are all appropriate vectors. Be merry and keep munching and let me know if you have your own way to use up your leftovers.

Liquor in the Toddies: Hot Drinks for a Sore Throat

In a semi-regular segment entitled Liquor In The ______ that can’t be too regular because I’m probably drinking right now, I’m going to write to you about all the different ways you can liquor. I recognize that it’s weird, especially for those of you who have actually had a drink with me, because I am what the frat boys would call a “two-beer queer” (what I would call a “no-beer queer,” as I’m gay all the live long day). But I get drunk very easily, is the point. Still, I really really like beer, wine and liquor and want to share that love for the artistry of alcohol with you all, my favorite queers. Let’s lift a pint to alcohol and our Autostraddle community– they go together like wine and soft cheese.

Header by Rosa Middleton

This morning, I woke up with a sore throat due to a veritable plague that’s been going around work. Three mugs of tea, still no sign of my voice. I feared it had gone for good, packed its bags and fled to Rio. So, figuring it couldn’t possibly get any worse, I poured some bourbon in my tea and lo, a hot toddy and lubricated vocal chords (I can’t even type the word lubricated without giggling, that’s how awesome these hot toddies are).

Mmmm. Lemon.

I got this brilliant idea because I thought hot toddies were originally used for medicinal purposes. Turns out they weren’t: they were co-opted for “curing the common cold” (they don’t, but we can pretend) in 19th century medical journals. Hot toddies come in two major varieties: without tea (traditional) and with tea (not traditional, but tasty). There is also another major category of with lemon or without lemon. One thing is for certain: you need hot water, sugar (I’m using rough cut demerara sugar cubes), and liquor. Bourbon, Rum and Whiskey are the most common choices, but I even found a recipe for a Tequila Toddy. Basically if it’s liquor, you can probably make it into a hot toddy. For today’s post, I’m making two toddies: one traditional, non-tea toddy and one medicinal, Ali’s Cure For The Lost Voice Toddy.

A Traditional Hot Toddy

You will need:

1 pot

1/2 cup water

2 Demerara sugar cubes

1 1/2 oz Bourbon

a jigger to measure with (please always measure the liquor)

3 slices of lemon, one will be for garnish

2 cinnamon sticks, one to garnish

mugs or another variation on heat-resistant glasses

a muddling spoon

Warm your glasses/mugs by filling them with warm water first (it’s the little things). Boil the water and two lemon slices together. Throw a cinnamon stick in thar. When that business is close to boiling, toss the warm water out of your mug and toss, in its stead, the two sugar cubes and the 1 1/2 oz. of brandy.

Pour the hot water over the sugar and brandy and use the back of your muddling spoon to break up the sugar. Then stir until the sugar dissolves. Garnish with a lemon slice (floating on the surface of the toddy) and a cinnamon stick.

Ali’s Cure for the Lost Voice Toddy

(This may or may not actually help with a lost voice — I am not a doctor, but it made me feel better.)

This recipe is based on this one over at the Kitchn for adult Bourbon cough syrup and this one for a tea toddy.

Chamomile tea (loose or bag, your preference)

a pot

1/2 cup water (we will be boiling this)

a large pinch of cloves

3 lemon slices, one for garnish

tea strainer

1 teaspoon honey

1 1/2 oz Bourbon

mugs or heat-resistant glasses

stirring spoon

Warm your glass with warm water (this is a trick my dad taught me and it has never failed me, that’s why I keep typing it over and over). Boil the water with a large pinch of cloves and two of the lemon slices. When the water is boiling, turn the heat off and put the tea bags in. While that’s steeping, toss the water out of your mug/glass and coat the bottom of the glass with the teaspoon of honey. Throw the bourbon in on top of it.

Pour the tea mixture through a strainer right over top of the bourbon/honey and give it a quick stir to make sure everything is mixed up well. Garnish with one slice of lemon.

I will close with this thought: The traditional toddy wins for taste, the sore-throat toddy wins for making my throat feel better. Cheers!

Make A Thing: Infused Rum

How to Make Infused Rum

Liquor In The Snowflakes: Irish Coffee For When It’s Cold Outside

In a semi-regular segment entitled Liquor In The ______ that can’t be too regular because I’m probably drinking right now, I’m going to write to you about all the different ways you can liquor. I recognize that it’s weird, especially for those of you who have actually had a drink with me, because I am what the frat boys would call a “two-beer queer” (what I would call a “no-beer queer,” as I’m gay all the live long day). But I get drunk very easily, is the point. Still, I really really like beer, wine and liquor and want to share that love for the artistry of alcohol with you all, my favorite queers. Let’s lift a pint to alcohol and our Autostraddle community– they go together like wine and soft cheese.

Header by Rosa Middleton

Irish Coffee is basically all my favorite things: Irish Whiskey, whipped cream and, of course, coffee. I drink 2-3 cups of coffee per day and can think of nothing better than adding alcohol to it.

The thing about Irish Coffee is that it’s only as good as your base ingredients, so even though I’m lazy in the morning and use my Keurig, I went ahead and used the French press and some freshly ground coffee beans for this cocktail. I also emailed my mother and got the recipe she uses for homemade whipped cream (the kind that goes on top of my father’s chocolate cream pie). See, I have this thing about my cocktails. Yes, my machine-made Keurig and commerical whipped cream are good for the everyday, but if I’m going to be enough of a lush to make myself this gorgeous, delicious cocktail, I am not going to make it the fast food of cocktails. I’m going to use solid ingredients because it is going to taste so fucking good. You can use whatever coffee and whipped cream recipe you’d like, but I’m going to offer up my recipes for all the components, not just the cocktail itself. Besides, my mom’s whipped cream is awesome (and also probably similar to all of y’all’s parents’ whipped cream, as there are only so many ways to make whipped cream). I did some sweet, sweet modifications on the recipe used by the owner/mixologist at Little Branch, published in Speakeasy Cocktails.

Supplies

1 1/2 ounce jigger (you guys…I caved and bought myself the jigger I listed in the team gift guide) A muddling spoon
Glasses (the kind made for hot drinks)
mixing bowl
French press
whisk
measuring cup (1 cup)
Measuring spoons (teaspoon and tablespoon)
kitchen timer

Ingredients

Mom’s Homemade Whipped Cream
1 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla

Coffee
2 tablespoons freshly ground coffee beans per person
6 oz boiling water per person

The Cocktail Itself
1 1/2 oz Irish Whiskey per person (I used Bushmills)
2 brown sugar cubes per person

Directions

Start with the whipped cream. Combine the sugar, vanilla, and cream in your metal mixing bowl. If you want a nice, quick whipped cream, use a hand mixer like my mother suggests. Or you could be like me and not own a hand mixer, so you take turns whisking the shit out of the cream with your girlfriend. Beat it until peaks form. According to my mother, the trick is knowing when to stop. Whisk too long and you’ll make butter, and butter does not go well with Irish Coffee. I even whisked a little too short because I don’t want fluffy clouds of whipped cream, but rather a thick, almost-foam for the top of my cocktail. Put the whole mixing bowl in the fridge and move on.

This is the desired amount of peakage for this particular recipe

Now move on to the coffee. Boil the 6 oz. of water per person. Take it off the heat and let it sit for 30 seconds to let it cool off. Scoop your ground coffee into the French press, pour the water over it and set a timer for four minutes. After a minute, stir the crust that forms on the top into the water. Put the lid on, then when the timer goes off, plunge the French press.

Now for the boozey part. Put two brown sugar cubes into each glass and fill half-way with coffee. Break up the sugar cubes with the flat end of your muddling spoon Use your jigger to measure an ounce and a half of whiskey into each glass. Fill the rest of the cup with coffee.

Grab your whipped cream from the fridge. Using a spoon, drizzle the cream onto the top of the drink, trying your damndest not to break the surface of the coffee. Serve to your family/friends/roommates/harem of girls and enjoy! Happy Winter!

Liquor With Holiday Spirit: Homemade Eggnog

In a semi-regular segment entitled Liquor In The ______ that can’t be too regular because I’m probably drinking right now, I’m going to write to you about all the different ways you can liquor. I recognize that it’s weird, especially for those of you who have actually had a drink with me, because I am what the frat boys would call a “two-beer queer” (what I would call a “no-beer queer,” as I’m gay all the live long day). But I get drunk very easily, is the point. Still, I really really like beer, wine and liquor and want to share that love for the artistry of alcohol with you all, my favorite queers. Let’s lift a pint to alcohol and our Autostraddle community– they go together like wine and soft cheese.

Header by Rosa Middleton

Eggnog is my holiday jam. I like all kinds of eggnog. Legit. I’ve never met eggnog that I didn’t like. But then again, I’m a bit of a dairy-monster (see clove monster, related). If you’re a dairy-monster like me, you’ve probably never met nog you didn’t like either, but it’s even more special when we make our own. Which is what we’re going to do today. Why not directly on the holiday you’re celebrating, you ask? Welp, I didn’t know this until the good folks at Wright & Goebel Wine & Spirits told me, but eggnog is supposed to age for at least a week before drinking it for the flavors to really meld together. Some people recommend three weeks. Some recommend a year.  So Straddlers, let’s make some nog.

The traditional eggnog recipe is uncooked, meaning raw eggs. I eat raw stuff all the time – I make a meatless pasta carbonara with raw eggs on top of it. When I ate meat, I ate it bleeding. And raw eggs in nog is actually not that dangerous. However, not everyone should eat raw stuff– if you have a suppressed immune system, for instance. Or if you’re just having bad luck (we’ve all gotten food poisoning before. Salmonella’s much worse). Bad stuff can happen if you eat raw things, especially in the U.S. or other countries where the standards for food production are not so high, no matter how much I argue that raw things = moar flavor. So for the purposes of our recipe today, I’m going to be cooking our ingredients. I personally like raw things better. Raw things = moar flavor. But you do you – decide which version is right for your household. I will be using variations on this recipe and this one.

For this recipe, you will need:

5 egg yolks

3/4 cup of sugar (use superfine because that dissolves better)

1 cup heavy cream (split in half – you’ll need this in two half-cup increments)

2 cups whole milk (split in half – you’ll need this in two one-cup increments)

1 1/4 cups bourbon (I’m using Rebel Yell)

1/4 cup spiced rum (I’m using The Kracken because it has a caramel-esque flavor and also a badass label)

a pinch of salt

1 tsp vanilla (I will probably use more than this, because I fucking love vanilla)

1/2 tsp nutmeg, plus more for garnish

a whisk

a double-boiler, or just a glass or metal bowl and a pot (we’re gonna double boil this ish so we don’t scald the milk/accidentally make scrambled eggs)

a big pitcher to age this in

a week of fridge time

probably a label or something, informing your friends/roommates/family/harem of girls not to drink the eggnog for a week

Directions:

1. Separate your egg yolks from your egg whites. Put the yolks in your metal/glass mixing bowl. Discard the egg whites, or use them to make yourself an omelette.

2. Add the 3/4 cup of superfine sugar. Whisk the egg yolks and the sugar until it’s smooth and creamy.

3. Add half a cup of heavy cream, one cup milk, half a teaspoon of nutmeg and one (healthy overflowing) teaspoon vanilla. Pro tip: use nice vanilla. Always use nice vanilla for everything because vanilla rules.

4. Fill a pot with water and simmer it on your stove. Place the metal mixing bowl top of it and stir the mixture continuously for five minutes. Inhale deeply, because this part smells delicious. This is the part that prevents accidental salmonella.

5. Stir in the other half cup of cream, the other cup of milk, the bourbon and the rum.

6. Transfer your nog to a pitcher with a lid (you don’t want this picking up fridge odors over the next week!). Slap a label on that to let people in your house know that there’s a method to your madness.

7. RESIST THE URGE! You will want to drink it. If you’re like me, you already stuck your finger in it to see if it tastes so much better than store bought eggnog (it does). But let me let you in on the secret that I was let in on: it will taste even better in a week. And I know it’s against everything your mother ever told you to leave eggs and milk in the back of your fridge for a week, but do it! All the alcohol we poured in will preserve them.

8. In a week, stir the nog up real good (your nutmeg will have settled), garnish the nog with more ground nutmeg on top and serve chilled in glasses.

If you want to do this recipe raw, it will actually be easier for you than it was for me. Take out all the fancy middle bits with the double boiler and splitting your milk and cream in half. Just chuck everything together, stir, and chill for a week. Presto! Nog.

Liquor While At Her Family’s For Thanksgiving: Mulled Wine

In a semi-regular segment entitled Liquor In The ______ that can’t be too regular because I’m probably drinking right now, I’m going to write to you about all the different ways you can liquor. I recognize that it’s weird, especially for those of you who have actually had a drink with me, because I am what the frat boys would call a “two-beer queer” (what I would call a “no-beer queer,” as I’m gay all the live long day). But I get drunk very easily, is the point. Still, I really really like beer, wine and liquor and want to share that love for the artistry of alcohol with you all, my favorite queers. Let’s lift a pint to alcohol and our Autostraddle community– they go together like wine and soft cheese.

Header by Rosa Middleton

The Holiday Season. It’s a time for tradition. As a non-normative person, there are a lot of traditions I get shellacked on. I can’t go to my church’s live nativity ever since they hung posters and offered videos on how you teach your sons not to be gay. I can’t eat the turkey on Thanksgiving because I’m a vegetarian. Mashed potato dinner for me! But one thing I can do is traditional alcohol. There’s so much tradition behind alcohol of all sorts, so much history and artistry. And one thing that screams holidays to me is mulled wine.

I was first introduced to mulled wine shortly after moving to Paris. I was strolling in a snow-covered Tuileries with one of my best friends in the world and we stopped for some. So if you’re mulling wine for Thanksgiving or at any other time during this cold season, I hope it conjures up the same frosted, warm feelings it does for me.

Despite mulled wine being a traditional holiday drink, there is by no means one traditional way to make it. There are as many ways to mull wine as there are people who drink mulled wine. Mulling, by the way, is the act of warming a drink while adding spices and sweets to it. Martha Stewart has a take on mulled wine. Jamie Oliver has one too. I’m doing a variation on this recipe. And Alton Brown likes to mull wine for a very long time in coffee percolators which is great because it serves, like, ten billion people.

For this recipe, you will need:

+ One bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. You could really use any red, but Cab Sauv is my favorite red because I am spoiled and like French wine. However, when you mull wine you don’t need to use the expensive stuff! Save expensive wine for enjoying by itself or paired with good food, always. In fact, as Alton Brown says, this is a great way to use up cheap reds you may have lying around the house. And this red? This red doesn’t even have a cork.

Wine that is 7 dollars for the bottle and has no cork? Perfect for mulling. Don’t use nice wine! Use passable wine.

+ A pot to mull this wine in.

+ One cinnamon stick to boil.

+ Two teaspoons whole allspice berries.

+ Two large oranges.

+ 1/4 cup of Brandy, or more generous. I use a generous 1/4 cup.

And when I say generous, I mean generous. The one on the left is the brandy.

+ Honey to taste. I’m using 1/3 a cup, as you can see in the above picture. The reason I say “to taste” is because you may not need to use as much if you’re using a very sweet red wine. But more if you’re using a spicier one.

+ Cloves. Most people use 8-10 cloves, but I am a clove monster. Walk on the wild side with me. Use five healthy pinches of cloves.

+ A lid for your pot. This may not seem like a big deal, but the lid helps keep the flavor (and the alcohol) in the pot. Otherwise, the alcohol will boil off.

+ Heat-resistant glasses or mugs. I’m using Irish Coffee glasses because they look nice.

+ A ladle and a tea strainer.

THROW ALL THAT SHIT INTO A POT. Zest the peel from the first orange into the pot. I use about a fourth of the orange peel. Then peel and break the orange into sections. Break the sections in half to let the juices flow and throw the whole thing in that pot.

In fact, throw everything into that pot. All the things. You guys, I’m drunk on this wine I just made you.

Put it on extremely low heat for 25 minutes, lid on. You don’t want this concoction to boil. You also don’t want to go in there to stir very often because you don’t really want to lift the lid– that lets out the alcohol, which would normally evaporate. But you want to stir maybe twice through this whole adventure, just to make sure everything is mixed up.

While the wine is warming, make yourself a lovely cheese platter. Also warm up your glasses by filling them with warm water.

Also also, prepare your garnish. One of the points of garnishing a glass is to make it smell nice when you lift your drink to your lips. Grab a few cloves and your second orange. Cut the orange in half and then clove the orange in a straight line. Slice off your cloved portion and put a little notch in the meat of the orange. this is where you’ll put it on the glass later. The notch makes garnishing the glass easier.

After 25 minutes, check to see if the wine is steaming. If it is, IT IS TIME. Put your strainer over the Irish Coffee glass and ladle the wine into the glass.

Garnish the glass and serve your four to six guests/roommates/harem of girls/family members. Happy Thanksgiving!

My girlfriend thinks this looks like a dinosaur. So we just made dinosaur wine. You’re welcome.

Three Cheers for Pumpkin Beers (With List of Those Most Beloved by Queers!)

Pumpkin beer is either this thing you have ridiculously intense feelings for or some type of orangey beer trend you don’t understand. Putting a vegetable into a brew probably sounds like a weird idea, but trust me, it’s infinitely better than carrot beer. Although it may seem like a relatively new phenomenon the practice goes back to Colonial times. If there’s one thing that I love about humanity, it’s the resourcefulness shown when turning seemingly random ingredients into good old fashioned alcohol.

Wheat? Let’s make beer. Barley? Yup, beer. Rye? Beer. Pumpkin? Fuck, we could make that into beer too!

I went to Beer School at Beau’s Oktoberfest in Vankleek Hill on the weekend. Even though I went for the charcoutine, growlers of Lug Tread Ale, German whip dances and my share of tiny free hats, I managed to stay sober enough to learn about my one true autumnal love. Dick Cantwell of Elysian Brewing spoke about the brew’s modern reinvention from an experimental throwback to a cult favourite that causes grown adults to erupt in temper tantrums when they failed to get a sip.

This is a 90% accurate depiction of what I look like at Oktoberfest.

A drunken history lesson is all well and good, but that still doesn’t tell me what a pumpkin beer is! Is it beer? Yup. Does it contain pumpkin? Well maybe. Does it need some pumpkin? Sorta. Wait, can I make pumpkin beer sans pumpkin?! Yeees.

Pumpkin beer is a catch-all term for beers that are pumpkin-ish. Although pumpkin beer may seem like a no brainer, it actually can get to be a bit misleading. In the same way that some pumpkin spice lattes don’t contain any pumpkin, some beers don’t contain any pumpkin.You could blame that confusion on Buffalo Bill, the first  modern day brewer to resurrect the style in the 80s. Although he dutifully mashed the gourds in his original brew, he ended up forgoing the gourd in his subsequent batches. In his hands, pumpkin beer became synonymous with pumpkin pie as opposed to the vegetal sphere. Part of me wants to hate him for showing such disrespect for my hallowed gourd, but if it weren’t for him I probably wouldn’t be drinking pumpkin beer to begin with.

For a pumpkin beer to be considered such, most brewers just go with the spirit of pumpkin and the season. Does it remind you of Thanksgiving? Do you wanna curl up by a fire? Did four thousand scarves magically materialize around your neck once you took a sip? Then we’re heading in the right direction. Oversized gourds, canned pumpkin mix, vanilla, brown sugar, tons of ground spices and orange colouring all have their place somewhere under the giant orange umbrella. Brew Do Brew. Some brewmasters will dutifully add the flesh to their mash, kettle and fermenter whereas others will simply finish their ale with grandma’s perfect balance of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and allspice. Heck, Cantwell himself says that pumpkin can be “too vegetal” so that’s why it’s great that Elysian and other breweries are willing to try anything when it comes to balancing out the beast.

Given the loose definition, Pumpkin Beer season has allowed a lot of craft brewers to put on their experimental hats when creating an autumn seasonal. Although beer snobs may firmly rest in Camp Ale or on Team Porter, pumpkin beer transcends all of the labels and can unite these families or tear ’em further apart. Wanna make a chocolatey stout? We could do that. An autumn hefeweizen? Weiss the fuck not? A Mexican themed beer using pumpkin seeds, cumin and chiles? Done. Fill a 500lb pumpkin with ale and tap it once it’s finished? That sounds like a most excellent idea that we’ll make into a tradition.

It’s probably disturbing how many pumpkins I have in my house.

Given how diverse the pumpkin beer spectrum is, of course we have a lot of feelings (positive and not so positive).

Punkin Ale – Dogfish Head Craft Brewery

I love this one a whole lot because of the brown sugar/spiced flavors. It has a perfect balance of pumpkin and brown sugar flavor without being overboard. Good for beginners to pumpkin beers, too. – Zeller

I cry about how much I love pumpkin sometimes. – Carmen

Buffalo Bill’s Pumpkin Ale – Buffalo Bill’s Brewery

Touted as the original pumpkin beer, this was one of the first ones I tried. It’s a good starter pumpkin, with mellow flavor, spice, and tastes like fall. I don’t drink it as often because it can sometimes taste watered down. – Zeller

Pumpkin Ale – Great Lakes Brewery

This one is a thick rich ale. If you aren’t a fan of sweet this one may overwhelm you. The pumpkin, vanilla and cinnamon notes will stick on your tongue, masking the alcohol notes. If you aren’t a fan of pumpkin spice lattes you should run away now, but if you love them you will drink this up.

Mr. Brown’s Mashing Pumpkin Winter Ale – Mission Springs

This is the surprise winter ale that’ll save the day when every other brewer has run out of their pumpkin offerings. Sweet and well spiced, this beer definitely lies in the pumpkin pie end of the scale. There’s a bit of anise and citrus action in there that stops the sweetness from bulldozing your tastebuds. Although it isn’t my favourite, the fact that it dominates the pumpkin beer scene mid-December means it wins by default.

I want my beer to taste like beer. but i’d prefer if my beer were champagne, or red wine, or possibly chocolate milk. – Vanessa

Kick – New Belgium (feat. Elysian)

I’m allergic to an overload of cinnamon (for example, Big Red gum gives me canker sours all over my gums and cheeks) and I find that a lot of pumpkin beers really overdo it on the spices. My favorite pumpkin ale has a blend of sour and Elysian pumpkins. It blends the tang of sour with pumpkin and cranberries. Kick kind of smells like apple jolly ranchers. The sour notes perfectly balance the rich pumpkin spice and hits you in the back of your gums, but leaves you wanting another sip. It’s an 8.5%, so I’m not sure how it measures up to other pumpkin beers, but I usually drink a pint and feel satisfied. Kick is best enjoyed on a warm, breezy Fall afternoon. – Hansen

Pumpking – Southern Tier Brewing Company

One of the best ever. It has a very strong pumpkin flavor and taste, doesn’t taste watered down like a lot of flavored beers are. It’s a pretty spicy beer, but I love that. It tastes like you took a bite out of a piece of pumpkin pie. Who doesn’t love that?! – Zeller

I’m basically The Grinch That Stole Autumn. Any and all things that dare to impede upon my hot weather fall into the category of things I don’t want in my life. This includes but is not limited to: Charlie Brown specials, dead leaves, and pumpkin in my booze. – Fonseca

Citrouille – St. Ambroise

I wish I loved this beer more given that it’s my only option, but unfortunately I find it pretty dilute. If you want to get into pumpkin beers but have some reservations, this is a good test run beer. It’s definitely an easy-drinking beer, but I’d rather just have an actual pumpkin pie and their apricot instead.

Pumpkineater Imperial Pumpkin Ale – Howe Sound Brewing

Malty, rich and balanced. Although there are definite caramel notes, the beer still tastes refreshing without being cloying. I often get annoyed when pumpkin beers have too much cloves since I ordered a beer not a macing. Luckily this one is comparatively light! When I tried this one it won all the points, so the only real comment I could make was a pumpkin drawing.

The tiny glass pumpkin is entirely optional

If we’ve at least piqued your pumpkin interest, what now? Considering how many pumpkin beers there are nowadays, the only thing you can do is try. You could go about it the methodical route and start a blog to chronicle your pumpkin journey for everyone else to enjoy. You could also start a beer diary and use it as an excuse to go on a pumpkin beer tasting adventure/pub crawl with someone you met off of Oh Gay Cupid. Or if you are really truly moved by all of the Festive Fucking Gourd Beer Feelings, hop on some type of transportation type  device and go to the 8th annual Great Pumpkin Beer Festival in Seattle from October 19th to 20th and get your share of their 60 offerings. Either way, let us know your beer feelings or whether there are any pumpkin beers we have to try.

Do Butches Drink Busch? Answers To Your Burning Beer Demographic Questions

Ali’s Team Pick:

Beer and United States politics go hand in hand, both in the current Obama campaign and in my heart. I love both of these wonderful things, which is why this infographic by Mike Shannon and Will Feltus on National Journal is so fascinating. The duo has analyzed Scarborough Research data, which includes interviews with over 200,000 U.S. adults and it turns out that some beers have more Democratic drinkers, while others are enjoyed by a more Republican crowd. You are also more likely to vote if you drink hard cider than if you drink Busch. Who knew beer drinking was such a partisan activity?

After reading this chart, I feel like I need to rebrand myself. Who knew three of my favorite beers (Blue Moon, Leinenkugel and Samuel Adams) were the particular choice of Republicans? But hey, I can take comfort in two things. 1) At least I’m likely to vote and 2) I’ll take a good microbrew over the others any day.

Where do you fall on the chart and does it give you feelings? Vanessa was particularly bummed that she’s a Republican because Samuel Adams said so and vows to switch to her very favorite beverage, non-alcoholic chocolate milk. Laneia talked her off the ledge by recommending Fat Tire. Riese is confused about Amstel Light, as is Hansen about Heineken. Rachel thinks drinking barley wine means you’re queer, and I just think everyone should drink some beer and go vote. I myself am about to enjoy some Shocktop.

cover image via maltintel.com

Oh Hell No: When Your Girlfriend Publicly Hates on You

I call it getting ‘sunned.’

too bad getting sunned doesn’t look/feel like this

sun: (v.) to shame, humiliate and or betray someone’s life secrets in public; to purposefully point out flaws or insecurities in another person to prove a point or make oneself look better.

reference: you “throw shade” behind someone’s back and “sun” them in public.

Ok so now that the urban slang dictionary has been utilized, let’s discuss some thangs.

First of all, no one should ever sun you and if they do, they need to be checked right then and there. Maybe you’d rather ignore it, that’s fine too. Blessed are the peacemakers and whatnot. But I think it’s crucial to respond to such treatment especially when it’s done by a lover, partner (s) or someone you’re in an intimate relationship with however it’s been classified. Anyone that’s obtained your trust, been given access to your body and has been debriefed on all the awesome and personal details on your life, should always respect those privileges and most importantly, they must respect you. They need never make you look like a fool in public or use the public space to tear you to shreds. As if we all weren’t the fragile-est of kittens.

But sometimes we are with people who have no boundaries, are passive aggressively abusive, don’t know how else to deal with their own anxieties/frustrations, they’re on drugs or they’re just fucking bullies. No one knows exactly when it happens, when the queermo of your dreams turns into someone who is gunning for you. It happens though and we tend to put up with more shit from someone we’re dating, involved with, like I said whatever you want to call it, then we do for the homophobic f*cks filling up our Facebook feeds and tv screens.

So the act of the sun will most definitely occur in front of friends, family, co-workers or even just the people at the bar. FYI, ninety-nine percent of the time no one will come to your rescue. It’s not that they haven’t noticed. Trust me, those hateful comments slice through every conversation as quick as a racist joke. They cause two immediate reactions:

1) The Deer in Headlights Wide-Eyed Pause

2) Shared Looks and Nervous Laughter

Half of the people in your circle will assume that this violation of trust is an understood method of joking between you and your significant other. The other half will know full well that you were just sunned and will look to you for the appropriate way to respond. They will take comfort knowing that this exchange was based on an issue in your relationship. They will keep their mouths shut because this is ‘not their business’.

Note: You may have one badass friend who immediately steps up and says something like, ‘Oh hell no, what did you just say?’

This super hero friend may then proceed to remove earrings/favorite accessory, crack knuckles and plant themselves right in your s.o.’s face. Pull them away, buy them a drink and then provide them with one ridiculous ‘i love you’ hug. Then you must go handle your business.

This is so your business. Your life, dignity and self respect are on the line. This is the moment to prove to yourself that better treatment is deserved and anything less will not be tolerated. So let’s slow down a bit. The thing about being publicly humiliated by someone you care about is that it occurs similarly to slight of hand magic. Here it is, right in the open, right in front of everyone’s face and yet, no one is sure of what exactly has happened. Questions like “Was that just a joke?” or “Am I overreacting?” spring up and stall any immediate response to the transgression. While those questions are valid, I find that they are also symptomatic of the fucked up way we are trained to ignore our instincts when being harmed by trusted others. So let’s test the waters.

Example of “Just a Joke” vs. “You Got Sunned”

Scenario 1

You: Yes, I love cookies. I eat them everywhere

S.O.: Now if only I could get this cookie monster to not eat them in bed.

–wink. nudge. everybody barf.-

Scenario 1 is a cute joke from someone who would like you to stop leaving crumbs in the bed.

mmmm coooookies, beetch.

Scenario 2

You: Yes, I love cookies. I eat them everywhere.

S.O.: Yeah, you better keep an eye on that cuz otherwise you’re gonna need that gastric bypass like your mom.

NOT A JOKE. Definitely a crack on you and your mom.

These were two low-key examples, the cuts are often way deeper. Not that fat-shaming isn’t high on the list of serious offenses because it so is and if anyone ever says something about your body, you definitely got sunned and they deserve a serious hip check into the glass (You know, in a non-violent sort of way). I digress. Anyway, cookies aren’t often the impetus for public humiliation. So what do you do when the person who shares your bed and maybe has your heart uses pieces of your life to put you down? And, how the hell are you supposed to navigate that in public?

Listen to your instincts; they exist for a reason. They are your guides through the fuck all of life and we are consistently told to ignore them. We often tell each other to allow room for the benefit of the doubt at all times and sometimes: that is bullshit. I’m not a doctor or a psychologist. I’m just a chick. This is life. We have to share the crazy, the gross and all of the uncomfortable things. Here are a couple of ways to respond to being publicly humiliated. You and your instincts get to decide what works and what doesn’t.

1) Walk Away. Compose Self.

Engaging in someone’s rudeness can create more rudeness and nothing is resolved. Step away with the intention to handle things with a clearer head. If the remark was something just a touch out of hand, maybe you and your partner can deal with it later in private. Maybe you need to step away so you don’t drop the c-bomb or stoop to her level. Take a paus-E.

2) Combo Pause & Pull.

Don’t laugh at the comment(s) or dismiss the offender. Stop talking, give your best “Oh Hell No” face and politely excuse yourself and your person. Find a private space (not directly outside of the bar or in the middle of the library) and discuss the harm they have caused immediately. Process. Be clear that it wasn’t cool. Very very clear. Feel free to regroup, let your person buy you a flower and maybe chill out for a bit.

3) Be Bold.

The offense was not a cute cookie slip up. Your S.O. just shouted out that you used to cut yourself or that you’re weak like your drunk father or something else completely out of line. Maybe they’ve been berating you all fucking night long and you are ready to dive off the edge into nothing because nothing would be better than this. Also, maybe they’re fucked up on drugs or alcohol and this already horrific night will end up in a brawl or a cop car.

* Do Not Go Home With Them

* Call Your People

* Find Somewhere Else to Be

* Do Not Engage – Ignore phone calls, text messages, carrier pigeons etc

* Activate Self-Preservation Mode at All Costs

* Sleep Somewhere Safe

* Make Big Decisions in the Morning by Yourself

I say by yourself because if drugs or alcohol are involved then most likely this person will not remember the offense they have committed. Thus, they will seem like a hungover kitten baby with big huge tears in its anime eyes begging for your forgiveness. Blackouts cannot be the sacred canopy that allows all of the abuse to continue. Also, if they’re not a user or an alcoholic, denial is strong like quicksand and you will be stuck in theirs scrambling to remember why you were hurt in the first place. So go it alone, young soldier of love.

++

Again, who am I to even dole out this kind out pseudo-advice? To be honest, like honest in a way that is making me want to puke, I used to be the perpetrator of public humiliation. Once, I was in a relationship with a charming, beautiful, super funny alcoholic/addict. She pursued me, effortlessly, and then I just chased her around everywhere. She’d bounce to find drugs, low lifes, and trouble and I’d be dying from anxiety and fear and all this fucked up shit. I’d find her in jail, on the floor of a bar, passed out on someone else’s couch or at our doorstep ready to tell me to leave her the fuck alone. Or I’d try to keep up with her and party just as hard as she did or even instigate the partying because I wanted to be part of her world and keep an eye on her and well, it never ever worked.

The drugs and alcohol became such a normal part of our relationship that it was hard to distinguish what was really me or what was me responding to all of our insanity. I loved her and I knew she loved me too. We just lost our way.

I cheated and lied using her addiction as an excuse when I should have just been honest with her.  I also pleaded with her to get help and to stop using and nothing. Absolutely nothing.

If it was going to be like this in private then I’d have to try and gain power/control back some other way.

I took to being the public asshole. I cursed at her and put her addictions on blast, in the public space just hoping someone would notice how much pain I was in. You know what they noticed instead? That I was verbally abusing and publicly humiliating someone and that just made me an asshole. It’s never ok to treat anyone like they’re beneath you.  Cuz they’re not, and my ruthlessness never ended our pain, so what good was it? It just made me more powerless, crazy and mean.  So, here are some words if you’re on the other side of it, especially if you’re responding to abuse with more abuse cuz that shit never works.

1) END IT

Right now. End that shit. If you’re treating someone like garbage because they’re an addict or because they’re abusing you in some other way, please just remove yourself from the relationship. There is no other recourse. Fuck couples counseling right now because you need to help yourself first. Also, their addictions or their passive aggressive jealousy or whatever is stuck up their ass against you won’t go away because you pray to Lesbian Jesus. You can’t change a person by wishing or being the best partner. At this point, things can only get worse. ABORT.

2) Get Some Help, Kid.

I wished someone would have noticed how bad it was and swooped in to save me/us. Maybe I didn’t ask for help in the right way, maybe we didn’t know we had to ask for it. So I’m imploring you to heal yourself after you get out of the fuck. I couldn’t afford therapy for too long — maybe a session here and there. Here’s what I did:

-let her go

-tried to be her friend

-realized we were still toxic

-promised to never again allow myself to be in a position that brought out the evil in me and allowed me to be consumed by the Devil in someone else

-wrote wrote write write keep writing

-surrounded myself with friends that didn’t party with us

-cut ties with significant other sympathizers

-deep breaths

-creative projects like directing/producing a web series, working with kids on a fashion doc, applying to a new job, going to the beach, not doing drugs or binge drinking and just a gentler, softer, sweeter life.

Also, I felt like I should share this story, these tips because to not share things is to allow them to happen to others. I love all of you queermos so much that I’d never forgive myself for not giving the right fucks. I know in my heart and deep in my guts that if it wasn’t for Autostraddle, the site, the staff and the readers, that I’d be cut up, bleeding or fucked up in some corner somewhere wishing life was over. So please feel free to leave comments but I ask that you leave them with love and respect. I ask that you honor the puke-inducing honesty shared and leave your words, pointed or otherwise, with the same love and care.

Bottom Line: Anyone that suns you is lost in the dark. Step away before their darkness swallows you whole and steals your light forever.

Resources:
National Domestic Violence Hotline
1.800.799.SAFE (7233) 1.800.787.3224 (tty)

Communities United Against Violence (CUAV)
415.333.HELP (4357)
San Francisco, CA
The nation’s first LGBTQQ anti-violence organization. Their mission is to prevent and respond to violence against and within the LGBTQQ community. They have a huge variety of resources and programs. Their safety line is one of their strongest resources.

The Network/La Red
617.742.4911(v) 617.227.4911(tty)
Boston, MA
This is a bilingual organization (English/Spanish). They offer services to LGBTQ people and anyone who is part of SM/kink and polyamorous communities. Their hotline is there for anyone who just wants to talk or is looking for safe spaces, temporary homes, and other resources related to leaving an abusive relationship.

The New York City Gay & Lesbian Anti-Violence Project
212.714.1141
New York City, NY
24hr bilingual hotline. Focused on NYC’s LGBTQ and HIV affected communities.

Survivor Project
503.288.3191
Dedicated to the needs of intersex and transgender survivors of domestic and sexual violence.

Special Note: Autostraddle’s “First Person” column exists for individual queer ladies to tell their own personal stories and share compelling experiences. These personal essays do not necessarily reflect the ideals of Autostraddle or its editors, nor do any First Person writers intend to speak on behalf of anyone other than themselves. First Person writers are simply speaking honestly from their own hearts.

Get Toasted: It’s Pimm’s O’Clock!

I’m excited about the Olympics. I lived in Vancouver when we were The Most Important City in the World and I remember how great that was. Seriously, people were high-fiving and car-honking and Cheshire-cat-grinning and so gosh-darn friendly. It was a completely different city to live in! Maybe it was because everyone had a ton of national pride or maybe it was because everyone was sauced. Either way I want it! I debated repeating my Caesar-fueled Van-sperience, but a Canadian cocktail just doesn’t feel right for the London games.

Do you know what is appropriate for London 2012?

That says Pimm’s in case I failed as a food stylist. Via the Fooditarian.

If you haven’t heard of Pimm’s before, it’s about time you did! Pimm’s (No. 1) is a fruity, spiced gin that is served as an apéritif or cocktail base. There are other Pimm’s based off of whisky (No. 2), brandy (No. 3), rum (No.4), rye (No.5) and vodka (No.6), but No.1 is the most readily available this side of the Atlantic.

It’s a quintessential British drink that shows up at Wimbledon, but oddly enough will be missing from the Olympics. Do a Brit proud and drink one on their behalf! Combined into a Pimm’s Cup, the drink brings all the summer-time fruitness of a sangria without the problematic red wine stains! (Trust me, they go down so easily that you’ll definitely appreciate that fact!)

Pimm’s O’Clock parties are awesome since they seem like you put in a lot of effort when you did no such thing. Have one for the Olympics since you can sit back and watch the athletes while everyone else mixes their own cocktails. You’ll still get the credit for having introduced your friends to a new drink, so gather your ingredients and get ready for a bloody good time!

Pimm’s Cup

A Pimm’s Cup recipe reads like an IKEA instruction sheet; it’s just a parts list. It’s less like bartending and more like coercing your friends into setting up your EXPEDIT. In the same way IKEA makes everyone believe they can make a cabinet, you can convince your friends that they can make a fancy cocktail. Unlike an actual assembly party, your guests will still want to be friends with you afterwards and you won’t end up with three leftover screws for your Pimm’s Cup.

Step 1: Mix your Pimm’s.
Mix one part Pimm’s No. 1 to one part Sprite in your largest container. Chill it in the refrigerator or load it with ice. (Note: Pimm’s Cup recipes call for lemonade, which probably makes you think of the yellow beverage sold by your neighbour’s kid for 5¢ a glass. Before you harass their stand, you should stop since the recipe really means “English-style” lemonade which is clear and carbonated. This will confuse the shit out of you until you Wikipedia it or talk to a Brit.)

This looks way more impressive than it should. Embrace your somewhat undeserved compliments. Via the Fooditarian

Step 2: Prep your fruit.
De-stem your mint. Slice strawberries, oranges, lemons, limes and
cucumbers. You could mix it all up in a bowl or arrange them in artful
patterns to impress the ladies.

Step 3: Assemble.
Lay out the Pimm’s mix and fruit once guests arrive and have them take charge of their own glasses. Give them the instructions, “Fill your glass with fruit and top with booze. Remember to eat your fruit.” Hopefully they can handle that.

Step 4: Oh look! You’re done.
See? Now all of your friends think you’re a cultured mixologist. Your only responsibility for the rest of the evening is ensuring an adequate supply of mixed Pimm’s. Luckily the mix is easy enough that you’ll still remember the proportions well into your fifth cup.

Give your guests wide-mouthed vessels so they can reach all of the boozey fruit. Via the Fooditarian.

Have you made it a few times and you want to try something different?

• Add a few slices of ginger or ginger syrup to the Pimm’s mix while it chills.
• Substitute ginger ale for the Sprite.
• Provide additional fruit options like pomegranate and kiwi.
• Add additional gin to reduce the sweetness and up the fun.

Purists may frown at these additions and substitutions, but let’s face it, they were probably going to scoff at your alcohol proportions anyways. The Classic Pimm’s Cup calls for a meagre 1:3 ratio of Pimm’s to sprite. This version is much more, uh, festive. I am all about the fun.

With a glass that size, no one will chastize you for pomegranate seeds. Via the Fooditarian.

So pour yourself a cuppa, turn on the telly to the games and have a jolly good time. Because you know what’s cheaper than a Transatlantic flight and an Olympics-priced cocktail? This.

Get Toasted: Rachel Maddow Cocktail Recipes

Feature image via The Gothamist.

Rachel Maddow. Alcohol. Can you think of two things that make you happier, especially when those two things are combined?

Without further ado, I present to you, Rachel Maddow Cocktail Recipes! Sometimes when I watch Rachel Maddow, I wish I could remember to look up the cocktail she’s making because it looks really good, but then I never do. Maybe you’re like me and you’ve been living in constant regret, but don’t worry, I found ten of them for you! There’s even a bonus bitters + champagne combo at the bottom, you lucky dog you.

Now remember: shake really, really, really well because biceps and cold drinks are sexy, and never, never, never eat the garnish.

Maybe you’ll look like this after drinking all ten of these. via flickr

The Frisco

The Golden Gate Bridge turned 75 years old in May. This drink is to honor the most famous landmark of perhaps the gayest city ever.

Ingredients:

2 oz of Rye
1/2 oz of lemon juice (from real, actual lemons)
1/2 oz of Benedictine
Ice Cubes

Directions:

1. You’re supposed to shake a Frisco (you’re supposed to shake anything with fruit juice in it), but Rachel prefers to stir it. So we’re going with Rachel.

2. Pour into a cocktail glass and enjoy!

The French 75

This drink, named for a French missile shell, is perfect for eating brunch while reading Rachel’s book, Drift.

Ingredients:

1/2 oz Lemon Juice
1/2 oz Simple Syrup
1 1/2 oz Booze (Some people make it with gin, other people make it with cognac. It’s traditional and therefore more correct to make it with gin, but certain cable television news hosts prefer it with cognac)

Directions:

1. Shake shake shake that up with ice.

2. Strain into a champagne glass.

3. Top with champagne.

4. Add the lemon twist (don’t eat the garnish!) and serve.

Cameron’s Kick

This is a classic cocktail that appears in the legendary Savoy cocktail book from the 1930s. Don’t you feel fancy?

Ingredients:

1 oz Scotch Whisky
1 oz Irish Whiskey
1/2 oz Orgeat Syrup
1/2 oz Lemon Juice

Directions:

1. Shake over ice for about a million years.

2. Strain into cocktail glass.

3. Garnish with an orange twist.

via flickr user eric susch

Gin Sling

Rachel made this to commemorate the SCOTUS ruling on healthcare, but you should make this to commemorate that time Autostraddle was broken and you got an error message.

Ingredients:

1 1/2 oz Gin
3/4 oz Sweet Vermouth
1/2 oz Lemon Juice
1/2 oz Simple Syrup
3 dashes of Agnostura Bitters

Directions:

1. Shake the ever-loving life out of it.

2. Pour over ice.

3. Top it off with club soda.

4. Garnish with a lemon peel, wheel or wedge.

Maddow’s Pina Colada Improvement

Sometimes Pina Coladas come out of slushie machines and you drink them out of plastic boots in Vegas, or maybe that’s just me. Anyway, this sounds much better.

Ingredients:

1.5 oz Light Rum
1 oz 8-year-old Bacardi or other nice medium-bodied Amber Rum
1.5 oz Orgeat Syrup (Tessier is best)
4 oz Pineapple Juice

Directions:

1. Blend with ice.

2. Without straining, serve in a short glass.

3. Garnish with pineapple wedge and a tiny umbrella.

4. Serve with short, fat straws.

via fuckyeahdykes

Corpse Reviver II

This drink was once believed to bring people back from the dead. So, that’s pretty exciting, right?

Ingredients:

2 oz Gin
2 oz Fresh Lemon Juice
2 oz Cointreau
2 oz Lillet Blanc
2 drops of absinthe

Directions:

1. Add all ingredients into a cocktail shaker with ice and shake vigorously.

2. Pour into a glass and enjoy your return to the land of the living.

Rachel’s Gin and Tonic

A classic, made even better because Rachel Maddow has put her mark on it.

Ingredients:

Ice
1 Lime
Tonic water
1 1/2 oz Gin
1 oz Cynar

Directions:

1. Fill a highball glass with ice and add 1 lime, cut into quarters.

2. Add 1 1/2 oz of gin.

3. Pour in tonic water until glass is almost full.

4. Add 1 oz of Cynar.

5. Garnish with an orange wedge (optional).

The Rickey

Enjoy Washington D.C.’s official drink, which also happens to be one of the easy and cheap. Coincidence?

Ingredients:

Ice
Seltzer or club soda
Your choice of booze (gin, bourbon, or rye are good choices)

Directions:

1. Fill a highball glass 2/3 with ice.

2. Add 2 oz of booze

3. Cut a lime in half and squeeze the juice of each half into the glass. Then drop the lime halves into the glass.

4. Add a bit more ice and fill the remainder of the glass with seltzer, then sip.

via The Gothamist

The Last Word

This is a classic Prohibition era drink that was once forgotten. As soon as you hear a drink is from the Prohibition era, it makes it so much cooler, don’t you think?

Ingredients:

Equal parts —
Gin
Fresh Lime Juice
Maraschino Liqueur (Rachel recommends Luxardo brand)
Green Chartreuse

Directions:

1. Shake well with ice for longer than you think you should.

2. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

The Gatsby

This drink has the highest ratio of deliciousness to effort, meaning it’s easy aaaand tasty.

Ingredients:

2 oz Heavy Cream (or half & half, if cream seems too rich)
3/4 oz Amaretto
3/4 oz Light Creme de Cacao

Directions:

1. Pour ingredients into a shaker with ice.

2. Shake it like you mean it for a really, really long time. Warm cream drinks are gross and will ruin your life.

3. Strain into a small, stemmed glass.

Lifetime supply of Angostura Bitters?

Bitters bonus:

To celebrate the end of Angostura Bitters shortages, Rachel made this amazing bitters drink. Yum!

Champagne Cocktail

Soak a sugar cube in Angostura Bitters, then top with champagne. Serve in champagne flute.

Get Baked and Toasted: Get Out of Your Gardening Predicamint

Sometimes you look around your garden and think, “Gee… that gardener at Home Depot was 4000% right about the mint. It will take over my entire garden.” You want to go back and apologize for having doubted the Plant Wisdom, but instead you are up to your elbows in Mentha longifolia trying to prevent the plant from choking your poor defenseless tomatoes.

When life gives you tasty weeds, make mojitos! Or mojito like things, because rum isn’t always work appropriate.

Mojito Couscous, Caramelized Peaches and Caramelized Peach Mojito via the Fooditarian. Mojito Granita via Mac and Cheese Review.

Mojito Couscous

Mojito couscous is my go-to dish when the sun is out and I’m too sweaty to turn on the stove. You can cook, mix and serve the entire dish in one bowl! The fact that it has no meat, dairy or eggs means it’s perfect to take on a picnic. Although this salad is full of tasty, it admittedly lacks protein. To balance the dish, you could substitute quinoa for couscous (which would require another pot) or accompany it with tofu.

Ingredients:

– 1 cup of dry couscous
– 2 cups boiling water
– 8 stalks-worth of mint leaves, fancy chopped* (look down for the technique)
– 2 ½ Tbsp olive oil
– ¾ tsp kosher salt
– 1 Tbsp green peppercorns, crushed in your hands
– 1 ½ limes, juiced
– ½ English cucumber, seeded and diced
– ½ red onion, diced

Fancing chopping technique*

Directions:

Place couscous in a bowl in and pour the boiling water over it. Cover with a plate for five minutes. Uncover and fluff with a fork. If the grains are still hard, add more boiling water and recover. Form a well (imagine you’re making a coucouscano). Fill the well with olive oil and mint to extract more of the mint oils, thus reducing marinating time. Add the rest of the ingredients, toss and refrigerate.

Caramelized Peach Mojitos

Peaches add a summery fruitiness to an otherwise classic drink! Plus they double as a filter, preventing you from packing shredded mint between your teeth. Oh and then you have a slightly macerated peach for dessert (if you haven’t gotten your act together to make granita).

For the Caramelized Peach:

– 1 peach (or any firm pitted fruit), halved and depitted
– 2 pats/knobs/units of butter
– 2 Tbsp brown sugar

Melt the butter and brown sugar in a saute pan until bubbly. Place the peach halves in the pan, cut-side down. Let it cook for two minutes and flip. Wait another minute and remove from the pan.

For the Mojito:

– 8 mint leaves
– 1+ shot of white rum (pisco or any other white spirit)
– 1 ½ tsp brown sugar (works as a great abrasive)
– 1 lime, juiced
– Ice
– ½ Caramelized Peach
– ½ can of tonic (I like that the quinine adds a slight bitterness)
– Sprig of mint

Give your mint a slap to break some cell walls and release essential oils. Add the mint, rum and sugar to your glass.

Muddling-type-devices. (Option three is up for interpretation: Crescent Moon Wand or spoon?)

Use your muddling-type-device to crush and grind the leaves for at least 30 seconds. Add the lime juice once the mint is bruised and the brown sugar dissolved. Add ice, the peach half and top with tonic. Garnish with the extra sprig of mint.

Mojito Granita

Adapted from David Lebovitz by Mac and Cheese Review (because chefs like spitchains too).

Most drinks taste better frozen and slushy in the summer. Omar Knedlik knew it and chances are you do too. I’m just going to bet right now that you don’t have an ice cream machine or a frozen beverage churning device. Hopefully you have a freezer and a fork!

Ingredients:

– 2 ½ cups water
– ½ cup sugar
– 2 limes-worth of zest
– 1 cup mint leaves
– 6 limes, juiced
– 3 tablespoons rum
– 5 mint leaves, fancy chopped*

Simmer the water, sugar and lime zest in a saucepan until the sugar has dissolved. Steep the mint leaves in the sugar solution until the liquid has cooled. Strain the solution into a shallow container suitable for the freezer. Mix in the rum and shredded mint. Place the pan in the freezer and wait an hour.

What your pan scraping technique says about you.

Scrape the pan with a fork to break down the larger ice crystals and shove it back in the freezer for an hour.
Scrape the pan with a fork to break down the larger ice crystals and shove it back in the freezer for an hour.
Scrape the pan with a fork to break down the larger ice crystals and shove it back in the freezer for an hour.
Scrape the pan with a fork to break down the larger ice crystals and shove it back in the freezer.
Fluff.

Congrats! YOU MADE SUMMER SNOW. Now shove it in a glass and woo a fancy lady.

* Haha, made you chiffonade.

The Semi-Official “Real L Word” Season Three Drinking Game

Well, it’s Thursday, July 12th, the day I’ve been dreading since the moment I heard that The Real L Word would premiere on Thursday, July 12th. If you’re just tuning in, here’s the gist: I hate this show (and reality TV in general) but unfortunately am apparently quite adept at recapping it and because said recaps garner ‘mad hits’ for this website, I persevere.

However, recapping The Real L Word requires massive doses of mind-altering substances. One of those substances is alcohol. I’m tempted to make a Real L Word Drinking Game that advises you to drink excessively if you plan on watching The Real L Word, but when I did that for Glee, I ended up drinking so much that I had to not drink again for another two weeks.

I also considered Brittani’s suggestion of “drink every time you see a black person,” but I don’t feel like that would get you drunk enough to watch this show.

So, here’s the game! Add your suggestions in the comments.

REAL L WORD SEASON THREE DRINKING GAME

ONE DRINK

+ Cast member declares that they are in love

+ More than two of Whitney’s ex-girlfriends are in the same room/scene

+ Anyone has sex in the shower or other body of water

+ Every incident of “Whitney Self-Inquiry” (e.g., “Will I hook up with Sara? Maybe.” “Do I have feelings for bananas? I do.” “Do I even fucking care anymore? No I don’t fucking care.”)

+ Camera equipment or camerapeople are visible onscreen

+  A cast member’s friends nod in apathy as the cast member dishes out exposition in their direction that’s supposed to masquerade as an actual conversation

+ The “east coast / west coast” “rivalry” is mentioned or a cast member discusses the differences between the two cities.

+ Any appearance by former Real L Word cast members

+ Any appearance by an Autostraddle-associated human

+ Cast members engage in extensive shit-talking about Romi

+ Kiyomi’s girlfriend or Whitney’s girlfriend registers a complaint regarding the amount of time/attention she has been given that evening

+ Anyone references or engages in sex with a dude

+ Anybody is wearing earrings you could fit your fist through

+ Kacy & Cori are in a scene that does not take place on their couch, at a restaurant or at the doctor’s office.

+ A member of Hunter Valentine says “tour”

+ There’s a shot of Romi’s bare breasts

+ Kacy & Cori’s cat makes an appearance

+ Blatant product placement (including bars & parties)

+ Hunter Valentine song appears in a scene that Hunter Valentine isn’t in

+ Somer is late for something

drinking opportunities

TWO DRINKS

+ The entire cast is in the same room / at the same event

+ Somebody cheats on their significant other

+ Somer is on time for something

+ 

THREE DRINKS

+ Somer quits or is kicked out of Hunter Valentine

+ Alyssa talks about herself in an interview

+ The show inspires you to cry real tears

+ LA FASHION WEEK

Emily Dickinson At Last Call, and Other Delightful Drunk Texts

Rachel’s Team Pick:

Everyone likes to exclaim over the tales of the canon’s hard-drinking authors, because it’s true that some of the best literature we enjoy today was brought to us thanks to some pretty serious bar tabs. But many of literature’s greats passed on before they ever got to experience the best/worst/most revelatory part of heavy drinking: drunk texting! What would the best writers in history write if they were drunk and also using a keypad, whether T9 or Swype? Luckily, thanks to Jessie Gaynor, a poet at the Iowa Writer’s Workshop, you can find out. (Also, this comes to us via the Paris Review. Which means that the Paris Review now publishes fictional drunk texts. Bless their hearts.)

Fantastic, right? Mostly it serves to arouse curiosity. What would Borges be? Faulkner? Virginia Woolf? Ten points to Gryffindor for the first person who can do a passable Judith Butler!

Experiments In Sobriety or “This Is When I Admit That I Have A Drinking Problem”

Two nights ago I woke up still-drunk on my couch at 7 AM, wearing my coat and the taste of cigarettes with one ringing thought: What the fuck?

I hate the word alcoholic. It’s weird and sterile, like a strange vestige of a time when mental illness meant state hospitals and probably reality looked like Mad Men with fewer well-tailored suits.

I grew up in bars, literally, but never heard that word, not once. It’s the ultimate taboo of drinking culture. What wasn’t taboo? Pouring a heavy-handed vodka tonic before hopping behind the wheel on the way to anywhere. The plastic 1.75L ghost always lurking underneath the workbench like some northern star of sickness. Feeding your 10 year-old daughter quarters so she could push them into the dusty solitaire game down at the far end of the bar, assuming you were on the way to a bar, which usually you were.

Back to that word. I’m not crazy about it; I’ll be the first to admit that. My therapist claims that I used it a few weeks ago to describe myself, but I called her bluff immediately. She might have been bluffing, but it might have just slipped out. A lot of things feel like slipping. Slipping between one drink and six, slipping through the day without eating a thing. Slipping seven months forward in time before realizing that you didn’t go more than a single day without a drink, usually three.

That kind of routine is a mundane, slow burn fuse, which in a way is the opposite of an explosion. No one notices. You don’t notice. By all accounts, I don’t even seem like a huge partier, or even the biggest drinker I know, but I do know that something’s always felt a little different. It’s like I’ve got an internal switch that flips and not everyone has it, and if you don’t it’s almost impossible to explain. Sometimes it flips between my first and second drink. Sometimes it flips first thing in the morning. The easiest way to explain it is that I’ve always felt like a drinker, a word that resonates with the same truth as the word ‘queer’ or my first name.

No one notices. You don’t notice.

I started drinking younger than most people I know. I grew up enduring the slings and arrows of an abusive home life, but more than trying to escape that, I think it was just about living in the suburbs and wanting to feel something. Being gay was a stone in my throat, but I didn’t even acknowledge that it was there at all ’til I was 17 or so. I started drinking heavily when I was about 15, I think.

Around that time I spent my school nights chatting on AIM with my best friend, doing shots of vodka alone in our little blue glow-lit suburban solipsisms. We spent almost every night like that, and it didn’t ever seem weird or troubling or anything, it just happened. Our parents had better things to worry about I guess, and maybe we did too. Every morning we went to school and made perfect grades and no one noticed anything; we didn’t even notice anything. By 16 we were doing the same thing but stirring a bunch of pills into the mix, which is a very stupid thing that I actively discourage you and anyone you love from doing. My friend’s mom had chronic pain, lost her leg in a car accident in her youth, and our other friend’s mom was a hospice nurse, so it was almost too easy to come by any kind of prescription medication you can imagine. If we had something really strong like oxycontin we’d usually parcel it out carefully, like some kind of fucked up rations, but everything else we just took as we came across it. I remember spending a lot of nights itchy and looking up at my ceiling fan, wondering why nothing felt like anything.

That year, on one of our mundane blurry nights, my best friend overdosed. We were chatting online that night, which is just about the most unpoetic thing ever… it’s hard to even write about it — there’s an extra gloss of surreality that makes it hard to touch. The night he OD’d he didn’t seem more fucked up than usual; we usually started misspelling things as the night blurred on. But this time he didn’t wake up the next day. Ten years later, I don’t even remember how I found out. The next few months felt like gravity collapsing in on me, I’m not even sure it all happened or how it did or why. After he died, I occasionally felt it all in sharp jags, but more often I didn’t feel anything at all… not a single thing for days. Drinking felt different after that too, but it’s hard to say how. Everything shifted, reality suddenly had many, many moving parts.

Two years later, I went to college. I kept most of that story under wraps. I drank like a college student. Stupid shit happened sometimes, just like it would to anyone. I graduated. In 2008 or so, I started going a few months totally sober off and on. Everything was a tumult for a while there, but it didn’t feel like it. My drinking got louder, with more overt self destructive overtures. I was younger then, we all drank like idiots, so I still blended in for the most part. Still, I was in a therapy program, and at some point it was mandated that I attend AA, which I did for a meeting or two — a gay AA group in a neighborhood with nice shade trees and brownstones. I bought the big book and the little book or whatever, but then just started lying about it because it was a hassle and total abstinence of any kind tends to not be a thing that resonates with me.

Things were pretty stable for a while, but then this whole thing — whatever this thing is — came back, in a more insidious way. I became a person who keeps my shit together, but doesn’t always remember a whole lot. If you bring up the details, I’ll go along with it while tamping down the creeping horror of losing entire chunks of an evening — or of a month.

But there’s a subtle difference that comes into focus.

It’s particularly sharp around 3:00 on a workday afternoon. I don’t have coworkers, so every day is a DIY happy hour. And it’s not like I ever wonder if I feel like drinking, I just wonder where I feel like drinking. The part of me that grew up swinging my legs at a bar stool still loves swinging open the door on a new dive and settling in at the bar like I’ve been showing up for years. The part of me writing this right now wonders if I shouldn’t have a drink before I edit it.

It’s like taking the bus, a sort of invisible thing in-between two other places.

I do most of my drinking alone, which makes it not feel like drinking at all. It’s just a thing I do on the way to doing something else. It’s like taking the bus, a sort of invisible thing in-between two other places, and it isn’t very interesting so it’s not really worth talking about. Because if a tree falls in some shithole bar, and no one is around to notice, it’s not much of an anecdote, now is it? It’s a potent facilitator, that feeling of being shimmery and translucent all the time, of not having witnesses. It’s easy to think whatever you want. It’s even easier to let those blind spots blot life out, seep outward like a drop of ink on a cocktail napkin.

None of this feels particularly sad or particularly anything, in retrospect. In fact, I wouldn’t be thinking about it at all excepting a couple of factors. One: This month is the five year anniversary of my dad’s death. He died at 50, a grownup frat boy with a big heart but a quick snarl. Drinking, smoking, and drugs didn’t do him any favors. Two: I decided to quit drinking, at least for long enough to take a step back and see if that’s what I want. So far, it’s been a funny slow motion sort of struggle. It feels like stage combat, or like watching a character in a silent movie try to wrest something out of another person’s arms. No momentum at all, and no volume either. All I know is that I want to stop the slow seep of that ink blot — and I wouldn’t mind having a little company.

Special Note: Autostraddle’s “First Person” personal essays do not necessarily reflect the ideals of Autostraddle or its editors, nor do any First Person writers intend to speak on behalf of anyone other than themselves. First Person writers are simply speaking honestly from their own hearts.