For some people, the Kentucky Derby is a day of horse-racing. For others, it's a day of hat-wearing. For me—and, I imagine, for far more than belong to those other two categories—it is a day of mint juleps, the iconic Derby drink of strong bourbon and sweet mint over crushed ice, a sophisticated snow-cone served, classically, in a frost-covered silver cup. Keep reading »
Credit: Helen Rosner
As I settle onto a bar stool at Vesuvio Cafe in San Francisco's North Beach neighborhood, the bartender pours me just what I've come here for: a perfect pint of Anchor Steam beer. It's brilliantly clear, deep amber in color, and capped by a bone-white head of foam. Savoring its crystalline-sugar sweetness, all I can think is how far this beer has come. Keep reading »
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On a recent Sunday afternoon, I found myself with a house full of guests—half of them ready to start cocktail hour, the other half still recovering from a bit too much fun the night before. Casting about for a concoction that would function equally well as an afternoon drink and hair-of-the-dog remedy, I settled on the Corpse Reviver No. 2: equal parts gin, lemon juice, Lillet blanc, and Cointreau. An ice-cold nip of this elixir is refreshing, astringent, and strong enough to perk up the senses—reviving, indeed. Keep reading »
Credit: Helen Rosner
Brother and sister Alex and Natasha Pogrebinsky hail from Kiev,Ukraine. At their 2-year-old restaurant in Long Island City, The Bear, Natasha makes the kind of Eastern European food that's as delicious and soul-satisfying as my Ukrainian grandmothers' was, but also smart, fresh, fascinating. This isn't peasant food; it's intellectual, upscale, urbane. It harkens back to the Kiev of the siblings' noble ancestry, one traced back to the 13th century. But it's also, in a good way, just very New York. Keep reading »
Credit: Helen Rosner
When it comes to cocktails, New Orleans is America's most spirited city The cocktail may not have been invented in New Orleans, but it was perfected here—the city, in keeping with its abundant joie de vivre, has given rise to some of the nation's most spectacular and beloved libations. Keep reading »
Credit: Todd Coleman
In 1838, Antoine Peychaud Jr. opened an apothecary in the French Quarter. There he served a remedy for stomach ailments made by mixing brandy with a proprietary tincture of bitter gentian root soaked with botanicals and other spices in high-proof alcohol. The combination was soon in demand across the city, and eventually became the basis for one of New Orleans' first cocktails, the Sazerac. Keep reading »
Credit: Todd Coleman
As a teenager in India, thandai was the forbidden delight of Holi—the colorful Indian spring festival where friends, family, and even strangers hurl clouds of pink, green, yellow powders at each other and spray jets of colorful water. On any other day of the year, thandai, literally translated as 'something that cools', is just a sweet, creamy milk drink, flavored with almonds, pistachios, and cashew nuts to boost immunity, spices like fennel, pepper, cardamom to aid digestion, rose petals for detoxification, milk to strengthen bones, and poppy seeds and melon seeds to lift spirits. But on Holi, when the refreshment is served as a way to cool off after playing in the hot sun, it traditionally comes with the addition of bhaang (a derivative of marijuana)—a single ingredient that not only turns thandai into a truly merry drink, but something that made it a whole lot more exciting (and forbidden) for my teenage self. Keep reading »
Credit: Nidhi Chaudhry
In the last gasps of cold weather, my favorite brew to drink is porter. The lean ancestor to stout, swarthy porter has plenty of rich flavor and creaminess to go with the final crop of root vegetables and last spoonfuls of hearty cold-weather stew, but in its lighter, livelier character, it presupposes the warm days to come. A superb version is Deschutes Black Butte Porter, an ale of such layered deliciousness, I had to stop mid-sip, to tell the truth, and write this little paean to it right away. Brewed amid its namesake evergreen-clad peaks in Bend, Oregon, it's a porter made with a rainbow of malts, from pale to wheat to chocolate and more, all of which add their own flavors: nutty, roasted, toasted, grassy, and with just a hint of zingy hop bitterness to prop it all up. There's even a yeasty, funky Bourdeaux-like note to it. All this at only 5.2 percent alcohol? It's the middle of the day in March. Is it time for a porter? Yep.
Growing up, there was always a giant box of black licorice sitting on my grandmother's living room table. For me, this box was an evil temptation: I hated those rubbery, black cords of supposed candy, but every visit, I'd try again hoping that the sweet offer of "candy" would reward my tongue. Yeah, right. It might as well have been a stalk of fennel. Keep reading »
Credit: Helen Rosner
This story starts not so long ago, when I was living the carefree life of a young expatriate in France. (Or we could put it another way: This story starts not so long ago, when I was mired in existential crisis whilst trying to extricate myself from work visa complications in France.) I was spending many a two-hour lunch break mulling over my future, the edge of which was approaching with alarming swiftness. At the time, two options presented themselves: Fight against the bureaucracy to stay in Grenoble, the charming Alpine town where I was living, or throw up my hands and move to Paris, the City of Light, the hip, canal-crossed Paname. Keep reading »
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