Sometimes you get just what you want

A cold and sleepy Sunday afternoon in Chicago. Running errands with mundane to-dos crackling on my mind. I took a break for sitting and settling with an afternoon stop at Bridgeport Coffee. Instead of a pot of herbal tea I got a cappuccino.

From the brown mug to the thick head of foam --> perfection. In the moments before ordering did I recognize a cappuccino-shaped hole inside? Is satisfaction having that unique lack filled? Should it be filled perfectly, exactly full or leave a sliver that I seal with satisfied recognition of my own need?

I can appreciate the shadow dancing on the wall.

dirty, nerdy, purty thirty

I have been celebrating my big birthday for over two weeks. A bar hop, a make-up lesson, a cozy cabin stay - I've done a lot of celebrating because I have much I'm grateful for.

The drink that kicked it all off was The Nordic Track at Maria's Packaged Goods and Community Bar. It's gin-based balanced by a sweet liquor and brightened with a slapped sprig of dill. The description read as a drink that I may not like, but I trust the bartenders at this lounge. The drink enlivened me like an everyday polar plunge.

I am celebrating small, seismic shifts. At 29, I was afraid to ride a bike. At 29, I thought only in monuments. At 29, I thought I AM this way or that. 

In thirty, I hope to find moments and wee sprigs packed with stinky, energizing essence.

Sazerac Sunday

The blues are more amusing and ridiculous in faux noir.

Fat Tire, tiny burger, skinny fries, and football at Jimmy's. Must be fall.

livin the dream

I walked by a 7-11 on my way to one of the free music Mondays in Millenium Park last summer and remembered Slurpees and how awesome they are. My stepdad used to be obsessed with them and my mom, sister, and I knew that if we wanted to be really nice we'd bring him one on our way home from running errands. In my vast experience, a round of Slurpees makes everybody happy.

Being on my way to music in the park, I had booze in my hand and on my mind. Slurpees are delicious; booze are delicious... boozey slurpees! I'd bring this idea up pretty every time I saw a 7-11 over the past two years. Today I actually did it (25/100).


The full plan for my post work Friday was amazing.
1. Get Slurpee (a mix of flavors - hopefully something blue)
2. Add tequilla
3. Ride home on the water taxi while sipping boozey slurpee

While it's unfortunate that the water taxi ride fell through, I just grinned while walking to my bus with this flavor rainbow.

monday night

I forgot about how the time outside of work spins. It goes. Go, go, goes. There's so much wonderful boring shit that I want to do.

Painting my toe nails, writing letters, shifting paper from place to place on my desk.

Cooking dinner, using coupons, reading books.

Bally's, The Wire, iPod.

Gardens, lists, happy hours.

And, sometimes, La Croix (24/100) as nightcap. I think its not blasphemy but alchemy.

west coast adventure: cocktails

Though the drink of choice for the trip was wine, we managed to fit in a few cocktails. We focused on the classics. The first cocktail I had was a dry gin martini (19/100) at Tosca in San Francisco.





The martini was perfect - so cold and appropriately sized. This wasn't a jumbo martini glass that tips out of your hand and sloshes everywhere. Those big gulp glasses are meant to contain all the juices, puckers, and sugary adult candies that people call martinis. Bah humbug. Nah, mine was all gin and vermouth, baby. And, as it should be, if I had three of 'em, you woulda found me under a table. Granted, Tosca had outstanding tables (large, round red vinyl booths) and it would have been my great pleasure to end up underneath 'em. I liked that bar.



It is also worth nothing that my mom had her very first gin and tonic at Tosca. The first of her entire life. Can you believe it? Her second was at Carrie's house in Portland after day tripping around the city. Carrie imparted some valuable wisdom - gin in the summertime, whiskey in the fall. So simple and beautiful, I almost take it for granted.





Another gin drink that simple and sublime is the Negroni (20/100). I ordered this at Clyde Common because they had a Barrel-Aged Negroni on the menu. Unfortunately, they were out of it the night that I was there so I just had a traditional, fresh made drink. Someone please go drink the barrel-aged version because it sounds stupendous.







As rules are made to be broken, I strayed from gin and had (scotch) whiskey in the summertime in a Rob Roy (21/100) at the Doug Fir. Ain't that place relaxed-classy-kitschy-fun? The atmosphere begged a Rob Roy - Drewars, sweet vermouth, and a Maraschino cherry. Yes.

The next two drinks I debated putting in the wine blog, but one's a total classic and the other should be.

Mom and I started our last day in Portland with mimosas (22/100) at Broder. I brunched at this spot with Emily on my last visit west. While the food and drinks were just as delicious as last visit, I spent much of the meal wishing Emily could be brunching with us. Alas.

Finally, I sampled a new favorite drink on this trip - the bicicletta (23/100). I know that I might be parital because I've got a little crush on my bicycle right now. I also recognize that alongside house-made salami, I might have declared Tang my new best drink.

But this mix of white wine, Campari, and club soda is a party in my mouth even without the cured meats or the two-wheel cruisin round town. I know because I've been sipping a homemade bicicletta while simply sitting and typing away.

it's not that serious

Egad! I've had so many note and sidenote-worthy drinks since June 21st. And yet I've raised my blog cup to a mere 16 of them. 16?! I still have two more installments about the trip out west (cocktails and caffeine) to write. And there's a backlog of post-trip bevvies to pour over... Zounds!

40 days from the autumnal equinox and 84 drinks to document.

relax.


The beginning of summer was marked by these:

A mix of diet and cherry coke (17/100) in a big ol' plastic cup at a BBQ joint near the Warren State Dunes in Michigan. After a day of lounging by the lake beach, this bad boy was perk perfect for a new-freckled drive home.

A Nalgene full of water (18/100) from my first bike ride by the lake.

west coast adventure: wine

My mom and I love wine. The Dionysian deliciousness helped inspire the whole vacation. Yes, like all the other lady tourists, we did wine tours and tastings in Napa, the amusement park for grown-ass women. It's crowded, a bit nauseating, full of over-priced souvenirs, and giddily fun.

We had a lovely start with Sterling Vineyards, which many travel guides refer to as the Disneyland of wineries. As you would expect, the wines weren't much good. Except for the Muscat Canelli dessert wine (13/100) which I could slurp down Capri Sun-Style. The best part of Sterling was the ride in to the tasting room: a gondola through the sky with amazing views of California countryside. It was better than the flying Dumbo rides.

We closed our first day of wine tasting at the Frank Family Vineyards because they serve champagnes (14/100). Coincidentally, Rich Frank, one of the owners of this winery, was a long time Disney executive. There were no rides except the bubble buzz.

On our way out to the coast, we happened upon the Francis Ford Coppola winery in Geyserville. While my mom got to see William Shatner at the airport, drinkin' Frank's Director's Cut Zinfandel (15/100) was as close as I got to any stars while in Cali.

Our final winery visit spun out of serendipity. We drove up from Northern California until we wanted to stop and landed in Eugene, Oregon. A woman at the motel recommended a Thai restaurant nearby. The waiter at the restaurant recommended an Oregon Chardonnay from King Estates (16/100) that's just the style my mom likes - more crisp than buttery with little oak.

We found out that King Estate Winery was right outside of Eugene, focused on sustainable practices, and had a restaurant to boot. Yes, please. We partook of an informative winery tour, unpretentious tasting, and a lunch with veggies grown on site. This was a winery that my mom actually considered buying wine from, but they didn't ship to Nebraska. You can't mail the magic kingdom.

west coast adventures: beer

My mom and I ate, drank, walked, drove, and boated our way from San Francisco to Victoria, British Columbia. The mission was to not have one. Accomplished with joy and relaxation.

Somebody forgot to pack summer so we found fall out west. Within an hour of arriving in San Fran, we found ourselves in jackets sipping Anchor Steams and slurping chowders. It sure was nice to drink this old standby of a beer in it's hometown.

(8/100)

Most of the beer that we drank was consumed, appropriately, in Portland, Oregon. We drank some very nice local beer at the LaurelThirst while listening to some bluegrass with my dear, Cindy. Unfortunately, the good beer escapes my mind because we followed them with tallboys of Hamm's (9/100). Happily predictable, Hamm's.

We toured all over Portland and Sauvie Island with one of my oldest friends, who goes by Caroline but I know as Carrie. To sustain us on our island travels, we got some Beer Chips and Henry Weinhard's Root Beer (10/100). The root beer was amazing - just what I want real-deal root beer to taste like. Carrie cautioned me against the alcohol-containing Weinhard beers. I didn't drink any cuz I trust my friend.

I trust her because she's got good taste. Carrie took us to Pambiche, a Cuban restaurant, for dinner. I washed down my Ajiaco, a delicious stew, with their Michelada Cubana (11/100). As advertised, it was "an ice cold Dos XX Amber beer prepared with special spices, fresh lime and clamato juice served on the rocks with salt." It packed a bit more citrus-y punch than I wanted, but started me on a Michelada kick that's sure to last all summer.

The last beer I had was at the Bard and Banker, a Scottish pub in Victoria. The inside of this place is quite fetching. I'd love to reserve one of their snugs for a session. After a morning of shopping and touristing in the sunshine, the pint of Vancouver Island Brewery's Sea Dog Amber (12/100 ) with a side sit in the cool was a real winner.

noshing very very fast

I guess it wasn't truly brunch that me and my family went to at Nightwod since we didn't consume any booze in the morning time. I did, however, leave the morning meal on a crisp caffeine cloud. Servers refilled cup after clean-lined cup with Intelligentsia coffee.


7/100

first bike ride downtown

I drank some Bushmill's with a few ice cubes and decided to, as Nike once advised, just do it. On the way, the tires spun liquid courage, liquid courage, liquid courage.

Rewarded:




6/100

happy solstice

Marcus and I made this drink up and sipped on the porch after spending a day at the lake beach. It has no name but tastes like summer.

Shake four parts tequila, two parts pomegranate juice, and one part orange juice with ice cubes in a shaker. Put two ice cubes, a squeeze of lime, and about one part sparkling water in two high ball glasses. Fill each glass with juice and tequila mixture. Enjoy.

5/100

celebrate good times, come on

The school organized a party to help us almost-Masters celebrate our hard work. For $25, we could embark on a boat cruise with unlimited food, drinks, and views of the Chicago skyline. A boat cruise? What a treat!

But then the day was overcast and rainy. And when I walked onto the boat, my classmates were already seated and eating the buffet food. Shouldn't we mingle and chat? No? Ok, I guess I'll get a drink then. The unlimited drinks were limited to Miller beers and Tisdale wines in red, pink, or white. Tisdale goes for $3.99 per bottle at my local wine store. Kenny G playing in the background, I grabbed a glass of white, a plate fulla food, and harrumphed into a seat. I assume this is what all cruises are like - (near) strangers trapped together in badly carpeted rooms trying to get the most of the money they've spent while grasping at fun.

The waiters filled and refilled glasses with red, pink, and white. Smooth jazz gave way to pop hits. Just like that - people went from early dinner to early dancing. The rain cleared while my head grew fuzzy. I mingled. I chatted. I had a handsome backdrop.

I stopped grasping and started having.

4/100

for the midwestern southerners

The Mississippi Punch we made was equal parts cognac, bourbon, and rum shaken with a bit of sugar and lemon juice. Poured over ice and garnished with raspberries, it's a sipper.

Sit in the sun on the porch and greet the slow, sweaty haze with a spreading smile.

3/100

the sweet taste of success

I'm gonna take the bold stance here that no good can come from blue curacao.

After winning a charity pub quiz the other night, my team was treated to a round of "smurf piss" shots.

Appetizing, eh?

2/100

introducing: 100 drinks of summer

Though I haven't seen 500 Days of Summer nor do I own any music by She and Him, I followed the masses to Millenium Park to see Zooey D. and M. Ward play a free show a few nights ago. Crowded onto a blanket on a cozy patch of concrete, my friends and I chatted, picnic-ed, and drank wine out of Solo cups while the sweet music drifted over us.




Though not officially started, it has begun.

1/100

what is the making of memories?

Tonight I had a lovely alfresco dinner at restaurant with a BYOB policy. After a few beers, a salty terrine, and the fall of darkness, we opened the bottle of wine I brought. A name so clumsy - Wrongo Dongo. It's nice for a $7 per bottle wine and I was going to describe it but why? You can find it here and here and here.

You can learn baseball stats or record producers or all the varietals of wines and hold them tight in your mind. But you know they are best, fist unclenched, shared. I hold none of that tight but instead experience just the sips. Why can I not conserve, preserve, then serve? What does the fleeting do?

coffee for here, coffee to go: negotiating presence and distance at Valois

Finalizing final finals. Drinks of celebration soon to follow. In the meantime, a snippet from a Community Ethnography paper:

Before I left the restaurant, a pair who were both clearly together and not together came in. A middle-aged, bobbed blonde in pink was trailed by a wiry, dirty-haired Black woman draped in an over-sized coat with a large stain across it. In a croaky voice she asked the woman in pink, “Won’t you please by me a cup of coffee?” I looked down at my table to avoid eye contact and interaction. Then I overhead her saying almost triumphantly to the kitchen staff, “She’s gonna buy me a cup of coffee.” Without missing a beat, a Valois staff member trumpeted back, “Go wait outside, go wait outside, go wait outside.” Though taking her time, the bedraggled woman walked toward the door, talking perhaps to herself or to others in the restaurant along the way. Almost out the door, she stopped in front of a mural of an elaborate metal gate opening into a bright floral garden. Gazing up, she leaned into and against the wall with her hands, creating one side of an A-frame, as if trying push open the gate further. A Valois employee with a to-go coffee cup in his hand led her out the door. He waved her away from the building while holding the door open for stately Black couple both clad in pinstripes. The couple and the employee exchange a few words and shake their heads. Soon they separate as he goes back to work, they come into eat together and alone, and I look for a moment at the gate and garden mural.

we are total trendsetters

Thanks to my good buddy, Sarah Sherman, for sending this my way. Bourbon and Brine, baby.

anticipation

Just last week, we had some of the first days of real spring. In the evening, I could kick-back with my feet up on the porch, sipping a tasty brew. Fat Tire's malty, caramelly goodness sits well with the shitty-pretty view from the deck of alleyways and, if you look hard to the left, the whatcha-talkin-'bout-Willis tower. On the porch, my mind and mouth are free to wonder beyond the sometimes strangling realm of social policy.

Once I finish school, I swear I won't spend all my time relaxing on the porch singing the praises familiar beers and letting my mind get flabby. Nay! I will challenge myself with the discipline of continuing education. I will learn about bitters and vermouths and liqueurs. Like a fool, I have overlooked these quiet sidekicks of classic cocktails. I too firmly fawned over the seeming heroes of these drinks - your whiskeys and gins. Yes, these get you drunk but that's reductive. What makes classics classic are the roundness and depths of these pack-a-punch drinks. Thank you, Longman and Eagle, for reminding me and letting me revel in your Vieux Carré, an earthy mix of Old Overholt rye, punt e mes, Landy cognac, Bénédictine, and aromatic bitters.

ontological security

"If some ritual - the ceremony of tea among the English for example - is an exact repetition of that which I observed yesterday and I shall observe again tomorrow, then the present moment is the past brought to life again, the future anticipated."
-- Simone de Beauvoir

Spring Break '010 USA!!!!

Spring Break elicits a certain silly joy in me. Thinking about it makes me giddy - actually giddy. I think part of that is because of what it is not. Spring Break is not the school or work that harshly demarcate its boundaries. It is not the claustrophobia of winter nor spontaneity's summer. It is not a given, and I will not let 'em take it away.

Drinking Bicardi Raz and watching Finding Nemo on the big screen is not the same as being at the beach.

Drinking a cup of Metropolis's coffee as big as your head and chasing it with a vegan scone does not make you a savvy, self-deprecating intellectual. (though you will think very very fast.)

Drinking a shot of whiskey followed by a shot of pickle juice does not make you vomit.

What was not was amazing. Unlikely and likely combinations erupt in a thousand little bubbles of joy.

i probably should have known about this earlier

Chicago Bar Project. I should probably be a stringer for this.

i can sympathize

Walking to class today (in the second-to-last week of my second-to-last quarter), I saw the remnants of someone's private moment. On the sidewalk side-by-side sat a 22 of Old English and a pint of Ben and Jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Clearly, this raises a number of questions. Ruminate accordingly.

kindred

Two sets of dear friends visited in January. Visited Chicago in January. Clearly, I am loved.

Eben and I are truly at our best together on a porch, beers in hand, music playing, and time stopped or spread. Alas, the Adirondack chairs are yet to be purchased and snow's all that sittin on the porch. So when Eben and Anna visited, I had to plan some indoor activities. Many of them involved beer including a tour of Half Acre Brewery.

Half Acre's brewery tour was free yet they still pumped us full of free beer. Amazing, tasty, complex free beers. The kind of beers that you wouldn't want to have as an everyday beer but you would because the Half Acre folks are so knowledgeable and charming. The beautiful foamy head on this hoppy afternoon was that Half Acre doesn't want to expand. They don't want to get big. They don't want you to drink their beer everyday. Hallelujah.

Eryn lost her scarf, but we still found fun

Just a day into the oh-ten new year, I had the good fortune and good company to sample a new drink. Glogg! A drink made all the more exciting by the fact that there's an umlaut in it. (I don't know how to type an umlaut.)

Glogg is a Swedish mulled wine. Of course, I've had mulled wine before, but the familiarity of this drink is part of what makes it so special. It was slightly sweeter than similar drinks I've had and was finished with raisins and almonds that wait as tiny alcohol-soaked treats at the bottom of your mug. It didn't suprise me but enabled me to appreciate nuances of a drink I've had, but haven't had, every winter.

I want to recline in the moments and tastes and spaces where familiar and new meet. Here we have experience yet fresh perspective. Like having a dear friend in your new(ish?) city. I was reminded about why I love my neighborhood bar. We went places I've never been, but they seemed intimate and comfortable. And I was able to softly detect the ways she's changed yet remains true.