Oh cocktail, how do I love you? Some may say I love you too well. But, recently, through some breaks in my enjoyment of you, I have found that I have so many of the same ideas and rantings with you as without you. Oh brain, you are truly a wonder.
Before I left London for Brooklyn, we made a couple of lovely Sunday cocktails. I am more of a wino, in recent years, but I do love Irish whiskey and a well mixed cocktail is alright with me. On that first Sunday it was Bloody Marys. Now, I am not always a fan of the Bloody, often it is just made poorly at your brunch places. I have since found a favorite spot for a great Bloody, Stone Park Cafe. It is very close to my place and they make a kick ass Bloody. I took a page from their book and mixed up a fierce Bloody for our London at home brunch.
 |
| Tasty, colorful, soothing, yum. |
I used the hand blender to mix up and the potion. G did the garnishing and the drinking to help out. So, what goes in, tomato juice (said in the British toemahtoe way), black pepper, tobasco, horseradish, worcestershire sauce, celery salt and some port or brandy or both. I blended up those basics with a little red juice and started taste testing my way to amazing. We used Stoli for the kick and dropped in a couple caperberries along with the celery and lemon and then dropped out to a blissful Sunday cuddle.
Not one to be outdone, on the next Sunday, G made me a hot toddy that made all that ailed me drift into the background. We made it with Irish whiskey, honey, lemon, clove, ginger, hot water, and fresh ground nutmeg. The magic of the toddy is a gorgeous all over body experience. It feels like the toddy's warmth spreads through and fills all of the cracks and crevices that need warming within you. The instant relaxation of the hot steam and whiskey lends a slitted eye, am I stoned?, feeling and a languishing speed to it's consumption.
 |
| The cloves are swimming about shouting weeeee! |
I did warm mine up with boiling water. I then thought, maybe if the hot water had a ginger tea base, the warming up process wouldn't leave a wateriness in your cocktail. Just more lovely flavor without more alcohol. But, come on, I did have a second one and drifted through a Sunday night movie while G made a veal stock from a French cookbook we work from sometimes.
 |
| Our bits going into the water. |
 |
| The veg only made everything better |
The thing about the veal stock is it sounded wonderful. I had been trying to locate the stock bones of veal for a while so that he could try this. We ended up at The Ginger Pig, a fantastic butcher in London with a premium pricetag. They had the scraps we needed. G prepped and began the cooking down of the stock. It takes some time. The entire place had a rich scent, the air was warm and comforting. Well, it cooked and cooked and really came out wan and disappointing at the end. After all the effort and expense, I just figured I would improve upon it and not let it go to waste. I tried to add something to it, salting a bit and thinking of what to do to improve on what was almost flavorful. Well, we did have some pork belly for dinner a few nights later and I just took those bones and cooked 'em up in the veal stock. Blasphemy? I don't know. It did come out richer and with more to it. Is is worth doing again? I probably won't. I will stick to my easy chicken stock that I make after we roast a Sunday bird. That stock is so rich and simple and just gives me an old timey feeling of using every bit of the food we buy. I grew up with my Granpy's garden and a Great Depression hangover of utilizing every scrap of food around. I love the satisfaction of having only bones to discard and for those bones to have no flavor that could still be wrung from them.
