Category Archives: Cocktails

It’s been about two and a half years since I stopped drinking alcohol, and in that time the mocktail has successfully supplanted the cocktail in my life. Some drinks lend themselves to such a transformation, and the Amber Jewel is one of them. (It also helps that I don’t quite remember the first version because that’s generally what happens when alcohol is involved.) To that point, the ingredients and method to the original Amber Jewel cocktail have been lost in a happy haze of the first and only time it was served, way back in 2011. At the time, it utilized a saffron mango tea for the base, a generous amount of ginger vodka, cointreau, a simple syrup, and a secret ingredient (coming in a sentence or two).

It was an exquisite concoction, one that kept us spellbound in the entry room, and we never got any further that first night (until the skinny dipping began). Garnished with star anise, which looked both starry and spidery, it lent a discomfiting aspect to the cocktail glass, the whisper of licorice mingling beautifully with the few drops of that secret ingredient, which I shall now reveal as, wait for it… root beer. That night, by the sixth or seventh round, we eschewed the complicated and precious parts and ended up downing glasses of vodka with a few splashes of root beer.

We recently revisited this infamous drink this past weekend, when JoAnn joined us for an end-of-winter weekend. It seemed the perfect time to resurrect the Amber Jewel, but in revised and updated mocktail fashion. Missing the saffron mango tea bags of the first version, I decided to go a more gingery route, creating a star anise/ginger simple syrup, a base of ginger lime seltzer, and the requisite splash of root beer. Lighter without all the liquor, it was a refreshing revamp of a drink that brings back some hilarious memories. Here’s the recipe of the ginger/star anise syrup, which can be used in any number of drinks (and you can easily omit the star anise if a hint of licorice isn’t your thing).

• 1 cup sugar (brown sugar may be used for a darker hue and richer flavor)
• 1 cup water
• 2 inches fresh ginger root, peeled and sliced thinly
• 1 star anise pod

Boil for ten minutes, stirring sporadically, then strain and cool. Keeps for two weeks.

After two years of not drinking any alcohol, I don’t really think about it that much anymore, until it comes up and someone says, sometimes sheepishly, that they have cut back on their drinking too. It’s almost like a secret that, once revealed, everyone starts talking about as if it was the standard all this time.

Thanks to mocktails and a desire to broaden the customer base, bartenders and restaurants have wizened up to offer much more of a selection of non-alcoholic drinks. I’m not one of those people who demands that the world bend and bow to my lifestyle, so if a bar or restaurant doesn’t offer specific non-alcoholic choices on the menu, it’s not a big deal. Same thing with being around people who drink – I’m not the sort who requires everyone or anyone around me to abstain, and I’m perfectly comfortable being the only person in a sea of hundreds who’s not drinking. That’s getting further and further from the norm, however, and every day it seems I hear from someone else who has stopped drinking.

There are more of us out here than we may realize, and while such numbers don’t always make a difference, sometimes they do. It may be that the people you’re with are waiting for someone else not to partake in imbibing. I didn’t realize how strong social pressure could be for others, as that is, unlikely as it may seem, not something that ever influenced my drinking. As a grown adult, I’ve always made my own decisions and have rarely been swayed by public opinion. The only pressure I felt to drink was doled out by myself, and once I took that out, stopping wasn’t such a big deal.

For others, though, who find comfort in having a drink in hand and the social-inhibition blunting of a stiff cocktail running through their blood, drinking may be a comfortable way of blending in and not standing out. In certain situations it’s just easier to take the damn shot than make a scene, even the most minor of scenes, of switching it out. When you become known as a non-drinker, it’s less of an issue.

For all those who are cutting back, or doing a Dry January, or simply saying no to one drink at a time, this is a friendly reminder that you’re not alone. 

A mostly unremarkable anniversary occurs today, as this marks two years since I had a drink of alcohol. I say unremarkable not for its nature – not drinking, particularly in the midst of a pandemic, is a pretty impressive feat – but for its relative unimportance in my life. As my parents get older, and I see more people closer to my age pass away, it just seems like not drinking is rather a minor thing compared to all the other awful stuff happening. That said, I’ve been told this is something to honor, and so I’m taking this time to give a brief description of what worked for me in case anyone else is looking for ways to try out a booze-free lifestyle. 

First, there was the desire. I had to want to change my drinking habits and lifestyle, and after a few years of not getting the same thrill or effect from alcohol, it was time. No one else can do that for you. 

Second, I had to discover why I was drinking in the first place, and for me it went back to social anxiety and self-medicating during the uncomfortable moments. I needed a therapist to bring out such realizations, and then I had to dig into my own past to figure that out. 

Third, I had to find something to occupy my time and thoughts in the first few weeks when not drinking felt somewhat foreign. For that, I took a free Yale course on happiness, which gave me something to do on the weekends and evenings, and I also began my meditation practice every day. 

It was a system that kept me engaged and occupied, taking my mind off of drinking while addressing the root cause of it. (Suzie also remarked that I was a bit of an anomaly for being able to do it rather easily, so I can’t say that this will work for everyone or anyone for that matter – it was just what worked for me.)

And so, on the start of my third year of sobriety, I’m taking this moment to honor what has become a simple part of my life. (I’m also happy to talk about any of it in more detail, so don’t be shy in reaching out if you want to try it.)

PS – Old cocktail glasses and bottles can make charming little vases for seasonal floral beauty.

Marline gifted me a bottle of Ritual’s Gin-Alternative, which also came with a handy list of mocktail recipes, including this Greyhound-inspired flash of brilliance, which incorporates grapefruit juice and a simple rosemary syrup. Andy’s not a fan of rosemary, so I only have a single plant of it hidden in the backyard, but I love it, and a little goes a long way. I used two parts sugar, one part water, and two hefty sprigs of rosemary – boiled it for a few minutes, then strained and cooled it. You don’t have to boil it for long, as overcooking certain herbs sometimes turns them bitter, as happens with some tea.

With some fresh grapefruit juice and tonic, the juniper bite of real gin wasn’t horribly missed, and this was a refreshing end-of-summer delight. Pushing for an extension of summer, I sat by the pool and languidly sipped the afternoon away. Rosemary forms a nice bridge between summer and fall, as does this mocktail.

Forgetting the frozen daiquiris amid the debauchery of Bourbon Street in New Orleans (my unfortunate introduction to the daiquiri) I have finally come around to the elegance of a properly-made version of this classic cocktail, with a mock spin. 

Like the bastardization of the martini, there are myriad variations on the daiquiri, so I went back to the one of the most basic versions, using a non-alcoholic rum substitute from Lyre’s. Even when I was drinking, I never drank much rum, so I couldn’t tell you a bad one from a good one, which boded well for this ‘White Cane Spirit’ – and partly why I loved this. (I’m guessing anyone who knows rum would find it a piss-poor substitute, but in this instance, as among many, ignorance is bliss.) 

In my case, using two parts of the white cane spirit, one part of fresh lime juice, and 3/4 part simple syrup (I used some leftover lavender syrup for this one), I shook it all up on some ice, the strain did into a pretty old cocktail glass that I found in Ogunquit a few years ago. Crisp, refreshing, and alcohol-free, it made for a thirst-quenching glass of freshness that I downed in a few seconds and instantly wanted another. 

Summer still lingers, in the air, in the glass, in the month of August…

A bitter orange Italian soda gives the thrust to this March mocktail, which consists of that and the juice of a single fresh orange. I figure if I’m going to indulge in some soda, I might as well add some Vitamin C to it. I’ve been trying to add more liquids to my daily diet in an effort to get a little healthier, and to bone up for my first COVID vaccine this week.

That liquid plan comes on the heels of reading some information that the average adult should have about 100 ounces of water per day, which translates to ten tall glasses. Fortunately, I’m a big water drinker anyway, but this is still about four or five more than I usually have – which is a lot at first, and the bathroom must be nearby if you’re going to try this. Even errands can be dangerous. I’ve only been at it for a few days now, but I’ve noticed a bit more energy. That could be due to the extra sun and warmth though – spring adds it to my step. 

The juice of the blood orange, despite all possibly negative connotations that the idea of blood has, is a thing of beauty. This simple mocktail is just some mandarin seltzer combined with the juice of two blood oranges. It’s as pretty as it is simple, and these days I’m all about both. (An easy citrus twist does wonders for any presentation too.)

It’s been well over a year since I had any alcohol, and strange or natural as it may be, I haven’t had a hankering for any in all that time. The other day, however, I did have a craving for olives, so I tried some Seedlip – marketed as an alcohol-free approximation of gin – and studded a toothpick with three queen olives. I swirled it on some ice, added a hefty dose of olive juice to make it a little dirty, and set it up in the traditional martini glass. It looked perfect, but looks are often deceiving when it comes to these sorts of things. Mocktail hour was on, and I took a sip and wondered if it would trick my tastebuds into believing it was anything like the juniper wonder. Verdict: not at all. It was actually rather disgusting, with tinges of pepper and cucumber that worked against the olive centerpiece. I’ll try it again come summer with something that utilizes cucumber. 

For this one, I plucked the olives from their branch – they were all I was after anyway – and threw the rest down the sink. Next time I’ll forego the fancy glass and just set up a proper charcuterie board. My tastes are different these days. 

Having largely written off this holiday season (to try to do anything in 2020 is pure madness) I find myself in the happy predicament of finding any little brush with joy a bonus. Such was not the case with this try at a holiday mocktail. I’m still overestimating what my memory holds, so I thought I could casually put together something akin to this drink, but I failed to consult that post or the recipe itself, and so ended up with a bland and yet-still-nasty concoction that neglected the use of blood oranges, and substituted the seltzer with a fruit soda that was not quite right, making it both too tart and somehow finishing with an element of sickly sweetness.

The lesson being that this is not the time nor year to mess around with classics, no matter what sort of semi-successful motions I might have made with the jello salad. For every innocuous switch, there is a change that alters and ruins whatever magical alchemy exists in a balanced group of ingredients. Stray but a little… 

For this pretty mocktail, the old ‘look-but-please-don’t-drink-me’ adage holds true. Typical of 2020, when so little substance hides behind such monumental piles of shit. That’s ok. Maybe we have learned a few things, gotten better at life by looking a little deeper at ourselves, our flaws and faults, our blindness to our biases, our genuine efforts at being better people. A closer examination of things is often uncomfortable, but always leads to improvement, or at least awareness. That’s the beginning. And so I continue the holiday season by raising this mess of a mocktail and asking you to toast to the start and continuation of something wonderful. Something better. 

Here’s what the Phony Negroni looks like when you use a blood orange – it’s a bit deeper and richer in hue than the one that uses a typical orange. I prefer this, as it steers the color closer to the traditional, where Campari adds such a rich shade. We will stock up on blood oranges this season. Such prettiness deserves to be repeated. 

It’s been almost a year since I had my last alcoholic beverage, and in that time I must admit to feeling much better both physically and mentally. In addition to that, I’ve been lucky enough not to really miss it all that much – and if I can give up drinking in 2020 then I can pretty much do fucking anything. The only time I felt a slight tinge of wanting alcohol was when the seasons shifted and the idea of a Negroni drifted across my radar. It was probably my all-time favorite cocktail, and I loved it in the spring, and most especially in the fall, when its bitter orange flavor cut through the colder air and warmed the interior of my belly.

I remember several specific moments that happened around a negroni – a fall afternoon before a Madonna concert with Suzie in New York City, an October evening at the Front Porch while waiting for my parents and Andy to join me for dinner, and the flight of Negronis at Cinquecento with Andy on a Boston date night. It holds a special place in my heart, and was the one thing I missed. Especially in late August, when the weather shifts into something cooler, which also happened to be the night of crazy lightning storms right before my birthday this year.

Andy and I were in Boston, trying out the new Terra restaurant at Eataly. We’d only dressed for summer because the day had been so stifling, and by the time the storms descended, we were seated and chilly. The idea of a proper Negroni suddenly seized me, with its bitter bite and bright red coloration. It screamed coziness and warmth and fall in the best possible ways. My cucumber mocktail arrived, and while it was delicious it was slightly too sweet. Designed more for mid-summer than the end of it, and definitely not a cool, stormy night. Andy’s twist on orange soda arrived, and he took a sip and immediately offered some to me, saying it was strange but good.

I waited a bit and then took a sip. Immediately I perked up. This was it! The taste I’d been craving, the slight sting of bitterness that had proven elusive all these months of mocktail-making. It was the closest I’d come to finding a drink that tasted like the tricky Campari element that forms the main thrust of a Negroni. The soda was called Ginger Baladin – produced in Italy and the closest approximation to Campari that I have found. Locating the remaining bottles that Eataly had in stock the next day, we brought them all home, and proceeded to order a bunch more from their website. One can never have enough Negronis for fall.

While it stands alone as an aperitif and Negroni substitute, I added the juice of an orange for a deeper citrus flavor, and a couple drops of bitters for added, well, bitterness. A few days later I tried it again with a blood orange, which worked even better, lending it a deeper red color more reminiscent of the original inspiration. My Negroni fix was fixed, and fall was suddenly a whole lot brighter, and more brilliantly bitter.

Certain cocktails simply can’t be made into mocktails – the martini, for example, or the Manhattan. They rely too heavily (in these cases solely) on alcohol for taste and make-up. There are other cocktails that lend themselves to virgin versions, those with some sort of mixer or other liquid accoutrements. The Virgin Mary is a great example of this, and in this post I hope to show you that a margarita can also be one of these, even if there is no tequila or cointreau in it. 

Fresh lime and lemon juice lends it the requisite tartness and flavor, while a secret ingredient gives it a spicy tang. For me, a margarita has always been about the salt rim anyway – once that is in place you may not even notice the lack of liquor. 

I found the following virgin margarita recipe online, and tweaked it a bit. The secret ingredient is pickle juice, though I used the juice from some pickled jalapeños instead, because I enjoy a little kick to my margaritas. 

VIRGIN MARGARITA

• 1 oz. fresh lime juice
• 1/2 oz. fresh lemon juice
• 1/4 tsp. agave syrup (or simple syrup)
• 1/8 tsp. pickle juice or jalapeño juice
• 3 oz. lime seltzer or tonic

Shake up all ingredients except seltzer in a shaker with ice, pour over more ice into a margarita glass rimmed with salt and lime, then top with the seltzer or tonic. It’s amazing what that secret ingredient can do to trick the tastebuds.