The Bitters

Two pinches in a dash. Two smidgens in a pinch.

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In honor of Kublai Khan's rise to power, I'm eating an open face bacon egg and Romano cheese.

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I was bouncing around the US last week, and right before I got on the plane to leave home I bought a couple of Six Point Hi-Res. When I got back home, I opened one to celebrate. Now, as someone who's had some "interesting" experiences pounding a few too many Resins on a Brooklyn roof (don't ask me how I descended the ladder to the ground), I was somewhat afraid of Hi-Res's boozy powers and hopped wiles. But I feared for nothing. Six Point's crafted a balanced, if gigantic, imperial triple quad mega IPA that is more of a hopped malt wine than a beer. Noted some creamscicle hints in the nose, too, which was interesting. 

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This weekend, I was one of the suckers lucky ones who paid for got the privilege of a sneak peek at Brooklyn Brewery’s inaugural (B)rooklyn (Q)uarterly (E)xperiment brew, Wild Streak. The bourbon barrel–aged Belgian amber started, apparently, as one of the brewery’s “ghost bottles’” which were limited release beers that were distributed at whim and to friends, but now you can get a bottle for yourself. It's worth the price of admission, but it definitely ain’t cheap. I found myself very much enjoying the interplay between the rounded effervescence provided by champagne yeast, and the more prickly assault that the wild yeasts’ carbonation gave the mouthfeel. —JD

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The other day when I went to Dough Loco, I braved taste disaster and bit into this raspberry sriracha donut. Good god: a contrapuntal melding of sweet and savory atop a massive ring of fried dough? "Holy shit," I said, "this is awesome." I wasn't incorrect.

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An anonymous colleague gave me a vial of homemade orange bitters, adapted from the recipe here: bit.ly/KEkdaW. She added a star anise to the mix. We'll see how it sparks up a martini later.

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It's cold as the balls that make up a snowman here in NYC, and while some lucky folks took the day off as a snow day, you can improve any snowy workday with a pint of oaked beer. Or a half pint, if that's what on offer.

Had this lovely specimen at lunch: Captain Lawrence's apple brandy–barrel Smoke from the Oak, which was surprisingly apple-y and sparkly for being a barrel aged smoked porter. As you can see from this highly saturated photo-graph, it's a dark beer with not so much of a head; you can't taste the apple, malt, almonds, brandy-heat, or wood. But it's all there. Or was. Until I drank it.

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Seattle's Elysian Brewing Company makes some mighty fine product. In addition to their staple IPA, they teamed up with Sub Pop in 2007 to commemorate the label's 20th anniversary, releasing the aptly named Loser—still a successful brew six years on. But it's their Bifrost Winter Ale that's the best this time of year: spiced apple, orange, and grapefruit sticks out at the nose, with a caramel maltiness that goes down light and smooth. Rock on, Elysian, rock on.

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'Tis the Season: the Holidaze are upon us! 

Likely, you've made it to whatever remote suburb your family (or s.o.'s fam) lives, be it by train, bus, rail, or car. Likely, too, you've planned for ways to combat the doldrums: a good book, a stack of DVDs, board games, work (why?), Game Boys, recipes or cocktails. 

Or if you're like some, you haven't planned at all. What you've planned on is to do absolutely nothing—simple, unfocused and relaxed time with family/friends, filled with food, conversation, and whatever can be bought on a whim at the local farmer's market and craft ale shop.

Here are a few picked up in suburban Western PA:

Mission Brewery IPA Tastes like what I would consider a typical, above-average American beer: strong smell of hops with a thick, bitter, malty taste. It's pretty no-frills and might be great on draft... but, eh... to be honest there's not a lot to say bad about this beer, but not a lot to rave about, either. Mission seems to be playing it a little too safe, and might have benefitted from a little more experimentation, a little more kick. 

Great Divide Rumble Oak Aged IPA The oak aging works really well with the caramel and vanilla maltiness, with a lovely aroma of pine and hops. Great Divide have turned the IPA on its head with this—in a good way—but I feel that some IPA purists (ie, assholes) will be disappointed.

Buffalo Bill's Blueberry Oatmeal Stout I was expecting to be disappointed with this one, but found it to be a welcomed surprise: the blueberry hits your nose at first crack, but after pouring it's full-on cocoa, coffee, oatmeal and yes, blueberries. It's not so much a stout as it's a fruity porter, and if it wasn't for the carbonation I'd be drinking another.

Stoudts Revel Red Hoppy Ale Damn, what a malty stink! Not super hoppy, so the name is a lie. (Note to label designer: you made it look like a Christmas/Winter Ale.) Caramel malt and buttery notes. An OK beer I doubt I'd try again.

Bell's Oarsman A traditional sour mash that starts strong (a flavorful tart kick) but ends on a lackluster malty note. It feels only half there, like there should have been more character to the hops. Worth a try, and probably something I'd revisit.

Other beers were purchased and consumed, but it's the holidays, so what am I doing on the interwebs? More importantly, what are you doing on the interwebs, reading this blog? Don't you have better things to do? Read this shit at work like the rest of the world!

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!

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Magic Hat outdoes fortune cookies because they give you the advice upfront and because they soften the blow by following wisdom with a bit of beer.

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The only thing better than starting your day with coffee is starting your day with coffee and Kentucky cream.

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What's not apparent about this chocolate bar is that it makes miniature explosions in your mouth. In a good way. #PopRocks

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One day this weekend, I was in a very bad way after one point five too many sazeracs the night before, and I found myself in the early afternoon chewing my way through an extremely spicey (thanks, horseradish bits) bloody mary at Bearded Lady. When I’m booze-fuddled, the toe-curling tang of horseradish sets off miraculous sparks in my head. At BL, they top off their already loaded bloody marys with a generous garnish of housemade pickles: potent, zippy stuff stuff that is much appreciated. However, the bloody mary’s kick was nothing compared to the jolts I got from the samples of two liqueurs the bartender poured for me after I singled out a bottle of Malört on the shelf. “You like weird? Try this.”

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It feels extra classy to drink Bols from a miniature, frosty tulip.

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Thanksgiving Potlucks for Shitty Cooks

It’s Thanksgiving potluck season, and that either means you (like us) will be slaving away in the kitchen to produce sumptuous dishes that sweat with animal fats and glisten with salty gravy, or (like many) you’ll be sweating like a nervous pig on auction day as you try to come up with something to mask the fact that you can’t tell the difference between a skillet and a saucepan.

Thankfully, we’re here to help. And for most of these Thanksgiving shindigs, the important (and difficult) things like turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberries, and potatoes are taken care of by someone who takes inordinate pleasure in showing off their cooking (also, like us). But all those main dishes take time and energy and leave their cooks with depleted resources for taking care of everything else that is necessary for a proper, gut-busting feast. Here are some things you can bring to the table that other people may have overlooked in the mad scramble to finish the gravy, brown the gratin, and carve the bird.

Decent bread. Yea, the pungent, natural levain kind, fired in a commercial oven so its crust is, well, crusty, while its crumb is sumptuously tangy and moist. People can make this at home pretty easily, if they have a dutch oven and an unoccupied stove to put it in, but, this being Thanksgiving, that probably isn’t the case. So, offer to bring a couple loaves. (Olive batard, anyone?)

Hor d'oeuvres. These are easy because you can pay someone else to do them for you. Get some crackers and cheese, or a spread of nuts, some cornichons and pickled onions, berries, or something else to nibble on while you drink something loosening before getting down to eating the main course.

Martinis. Gin and vermouth, stirred with ice, strained and served up with the garnish of your choice. If you’re reading this sentence, you can make a martini. And if you really can’t, bring an aperitif wine.

Fancy vanilla ice cream. To go with the pumpkin pie someone else baked.

Port or sherry. For after dinner sipping. (Still bring the martini and/or aperitif.)

Pumpkin beers, and a pumpkin beers zine. Because who doesn’t want to read about the pumpkin beers you just brought?

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Be the first on your block to own a copy of the limited edition, perfect-read-on-your-bus-ride-home-for-Thanksgiving copy of THIS IS A ZINE ABOUT PUMPKIN BEERS. Written, designed, and hand-assembled by The Bitters. $3 postage paid. Get yours through PayPal here.

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I’ve been comparing certain gins for everyday use. In the past, I was a New Amsterdam partisan, because it is cheap and because it plays well with citrus: it’s what I have used to test out many of the gimlets and fitzgeralds, in all their variations, I make, if only because it seems like a remarkably good deal. And it is, and it doesn’t offend, and, sure, it cheekily cashes in on the Breukelen zeitgeist even though it is distilled in Cali. But, swapping in a more robust gin puts muscles onto your drinks. And you know what? Muscles are good.

Where New Amsterdam is definitely an affordable, smooth spirit that has no major faults—it’s solidly unremarkable in every way—Broker’s is bigger and meaner, with more booze and a harder-edged flavor. In a word, it’s ginnier. Not in a bad way—there are no harsh ethanol notes or off flavors—but comparing a simple recipe varying only the two gins (I made a gimlet with Peychaud’s and sipped the two side by side), Broker’s makes itself present in a drink’s overall impression while New Amsterdam fades to the background.

This isn’t completely surprising: New Amsterdam is 40 percent alcohol, where Broker’s is 47, and Broker’s claims to be made in a pot still (whether this is strictly true or marketing speech for running neutral grain spirits through a pot still on a final distillation to instill botanicals, though, is hard to say).

Given that the difference in price between the two bottles is about three bucks, it’s better to go with Broker’s. Assuming you want to taste the gin in your gin-and-juice.

—JD

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Awhile back, I made an excellent platter of mac and cheese, using the methods that Aki Kamozawa and H. Alexander Talbot outline in their book Ideas in Food. Basically, the “methods” boil down to two very simple things: using evaporated milk instead of a roux for the base of the cheese sauce, and soaking the dried elbows for an hour before cooking them. Variations abound (you could incorporate mushrooms—or, better, lardons or bacon—into the sauce or bread crumb crust), but the base is simple enough that you can pull it off in half an hour, if you have presoaked the pasta. So. There is no excuse for not fattening up for winter.

The can of milk imparts a carmelized richness to the dish with no added effort, and soaking the macaroni for an hour does something to the pasta that makes it that much more toothsome: al dente, sure, but also pleasantly pliant under teeth. And both are extremely easy to incorporate into mac-and-cheese recipes.

But swapping out the milk for the roux makes me wonder what else can be put together in this fashion. I used to make a lot of creamed tuna by combining a roux with garlic, onion, and the contents of a Chicken of the Sea can; maybe a smaller can of condensed milk would work there too. Or, maybe potato gratin could be that much easier.

—JD