and a happy New Year!
With the year coming to an end, I figured I should give a small update. 2019 was a big one for me, and in a lot of ways, I feel good about the choices I have made during the year.
Anyone who has followed along with my cocktail philosophy knows that I enjoy pure drinks. Simple drinks. I like a classic cocktail as close as . . .
It all started as I was making my second Negroni of the evening in between flips of a big ol' steak on the grill. I had flipped the meat, put the lid back on my trusty Weber, started the timer, and ran upstairs to mix up another round.
The problems with making and drinking Martinis outside become evident almost immediately if you happen to be a purist like I am often accused of being.
Any amount of time that lapses while the drink sits in a cocktail glass can be detrimental to the overall temperature. So, to mix up the drink and then navigate from the . . .
Feel free to unsubscribe
I am going to come clean about something: I like the premade Margarita jugs at Costco. There is one in my fridge right now. You can unsubscribe below.
If you are still with me, I'll explain. I enjoy a bad margarita. I like gross stringy Ninja Turtle style cheese pizza, inferior Mexican food, and all the harmful snacks . . .
I'd rather be in the backyard
People drink for all kinds of reasons, good and bad. Some say that is why a bar is recession-proof: people will drink whether they are happy or sad. I much prefer being in the happy camp, but I can't seem to get satisfied at the cocktail bar.
My favorite drinking experiences haven't occurred in bars at all, far from . . .
Next month I turn thirty-one years old. Last year when I entered my third decade of life, everything felt the same as it had before except for the intensifying joint pain and reliance on probiotics. When midnight rolled over into a new day and my thirties, I was already asleep (by choice) in a cabin in Naubinway, MI. Waking up in . . .
The reddish-brown dot soaked deep into his white Oxford shirt. He knew right then it would never come out. No amount of washing, soaking, or dry cleaning would free the blemish. The shirt would be forever marked with Angostura Bitters as a stamp of his commitment to adding them to an Old Fashioned.
From here on out the . . .