Author: Andria Lisle

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Music Music Features

EarthGang: Staying Fresh On the Road

CREDIT: Anthony Supreme

When I catch up with EarthGang, they’re in Albuquerque, New Mexico, halfway through their first headlining U.S. tour. It began on February 1st in Seattle and winds through Memphis for a gig at Minglewood Hall’s 1884 Lounge on Friday, March 2nd before ending in Vancouver, Canada, nine days later.

The Atlanta-based hip-hop duo, individually known as Doctur Dot (real name: Eian Parker) and Johnny Venus (Olu Fann), takes a moment to reflect on their last major road stint, 52 dates with Ab-Soul that began in 2014.

“Last time we were supposed to play Albuquerque, we couldn’t even afford to get to the New Mexico show,” Dot says.

“It really was a grind,” Venus adds. “Some shows, we pulled up moments before getting onstage. We were changing clothes in the car, or just pulling up and hopping on stage. It was about being out on the road and getting our music out there — getting our feet wet, getting onstage, getting our fan base.”

The two are looking forward to arriving in Memphis. They namecheck Juicy J on their newest single, “Nothing But the Best,” and are fans of local trap artist Blac Youngsta, and count Three 6 Mafia and Al Green among their influences.

“We have fun on the road,” Venus says. “Right now, the most challenging thing is creating downtime, sanctuary, self-care — looking into yourself and looking after yourself. When you’re traveling through all of these different time zones and everything around you is moving, getting five minutes of silence, or just two minutes here and there to take a walk, balances out the constant influx.”

As EarthGang, a cosmically clever, ambitiously intellectual, and highly-textured deviation on the current boom-bap revival, Venus and Dot are garnering national recognition. They formed the band as high school students in southwestern Atlanta in 2008 and continued the project as they both completed degrees at Hampton University. With likeminded Atlanta artists J.I.D., Jordxn Bryant, and Hollywood JB, they formed the indie imprint Spillage Village before signing to J. Cole’s Dreamville label in late 2017 and immediately releasing a pair of EPs, Rags and Robots, that propelled them to the top of many best new artists lists.

Along the way, EarthGang built a devout following of music critics, crate diggers, and fellow musicians. Way back in 2014, 2DopeBoyz, the blog bible for rap fans, posted a headline that read “Meet EarthGang, an Atlanta Duo Who We’ve Been Sleeping on for Far Too Long.” The four years that have elapsed since — an eternity in the music business — might have crushed lesser artists, yet Dot and Venus refuse to be flummoxed.

“People say that overnight sensations take 10 years,” Dot says. “Jimi Hendrix played with the Isley Brothers for years before he became Jimi Hendrix. Prince did so much work at the ages of 13 and 15, yet didn’t make his debut album until he was 18 or 19. It’s par for the course, and it continues to build the legend.”

Citing the three EPs that EarthGang have released on Dreamville — the latest, Royalty, dropped last Friday — Venus says the duo strives to be “passionate about what we’re saying: Be deliberate, but don’t take it too seriously.”

“We just want to amplify life,” Dot says, likening the listener’s experience to “walking through an art gallery. You’ll make your own assumptions based on what you hear. We just put these paintings in front of you. We hope y’all enjoy it.”

Royalty, which features shrewdly intuitive autobiographical lyrics rapped over jazzy riffs, soulful harmonies, and gospel-inflected chords, has already reaped comparisons to Atlanta hip-hop pioneers like OutKast and Goodie Mob.

Those kind of parallels “don’t matter, to be honest,” says Venus. “There’s a whole generation of adults right now who were born in 1999, and they don’t even know OutKast. We make our own stuff. We have our own sound and our own producers who we work with. We’re moving forward.”

“Whether it’s brushing my teeth or taking a shower, I’m going to do it uniquely,” Dot says. “It’s going to fully be an expression of myself, no matter what my influences might be. I love doing what I do, purely for the sake of doing what I do.” Anything less, he asserts, and “you’re basically a fraud.

“With our deal at Dreamville,” Dot continues, “we’re more hands-on than ever. We like to have things the way we like to have them, and nobody else understands [EarthGang] enough to do it the right way. These days, everything is copied and pasted, everything is posted, and everything is recorded. And right now, we need authenticity.”

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Sit! Drink!

CREDIT: Ivan Mateev | Dreamstime.com

Last Friday, the world ushered in Chinese New Year, kicking off a two-week celebration for the Year of the Dog. The 11th animal on the Chinese zodiac, Year of the Dog people are loyal, popular, honest, and just. They’re tenacious and they never, ever give up. I’m happy to say that I’m a Dog, just barely — I was born in late January 1969, which places me in 1970 on the Chinese calendar.

So, last week I decided to toast myself with a series of Dog-worthy cocktails, starting things off with a classic: The Greyhound, a tart and simple combination of vodka and grapefruit juice, served over ice. The Greyhound is an old drink. It first appeared in Harry Craddock’s Savory Cocktail Book in 1930, which makes it over 600 years old in dog years! I made mine with a new organic vodka, Leaf, made from Alaskan Glacial Water, and a splash of my favorite pre-squeezed grapefruit juice, Indian River Select. From there, I migrated to a Salty Dog, using pink Himalayan salt on the rim of my glass.

Since I still had most of a bottle of grapefruit juice on hand, it was a no-brainer to mix up a round of Salty Chihuahuas a few nights later. All I had to do was substitute tequila for vodka. My brand of choice, the clean-tasting El Jimador, made for a delicious citrus cocktail on a rainy February night.

Ivan Mateev | Dreamstime.com

Salty Dog

A few days later, I switched things up with the Pomeranian, a rose-hued drink made from vodka (pomegranate vodka is recommended, but I used an unflavored variety I already had on hand), triple sec, grapefruit juice, and pomegranate juice.

Online, I found one more canine-themed grapefruit cocktail, the Pit Bull. The drink combines vodka, fresh-squeezed lime juice, grapefruit juice, and lemon-lime soda (I used Sprite Zero). I couldn’t find out the pedigree for this drink, although a quick Google search yielded the horrific sounding Pitbull On Crack, which combines half-shots each of vodka, Jagermeister, Bacardi 151, and Wild Turkey bourbon. I prefer my drinks leashed. Because I’m an honest Dog, I’ll admit that I didn’t have the bodaciously botanical Bulldog Gin in my liquor cabinet, although the complex-tasting, quadruple distilled boutique gin is readily available at local stores. That didn’t deter me from serving a few rounds of French Bulldogs to a friend who came by for, uh, Yappy Hour. The drink consists of Bulldog gin, elderflower syrup, simple syrup, crème de cassis, and sage leaves. I substituted Tanqueray and used Monin Elderflower Syrup — the latter was purchased on Amazon — and both, combined with the fresh sage, created an aromatic cocktail that took just a few minutes to shake and strain into lowball glasses. Maybe mine is more of a mutt, but the recipe adds some much-needed variety to my home bartending repertoire.

I’m not a big whiskey drinker, but if it’s your thing, there are plenty of canine cocktails to choose from, including the Hound Dog, found on Bon Appétit, the Bulldog Smash, a peachy variation on the traditional Whiskey Smash, and straight shots of Jameson’s the Blender’s Dog, a fruity Irish whiskey.

I’m not known as a martini lover, either, but I have to award the Bloodhound, a cocktail even older than the Greyhound, best in show. The drink, which first appeared in the 1917 recipe book The Ideal Bartender by pioneering African-American bartender Tom Bullock, the son of a slave and an ex-Union soldier, is currently enjoying a resurgence. It’s an easy recipe to master: Simply shake Dry Vermouth and Sweet Vermouth with gin, ice, and a few crushed strawberries, then strain the concoction into a coupe and garnish with a fresh strawberry.

When it comes to wine, dogs rule, too. At local shops, I found an Australian Cabernet Sauvignon called Yard Dog Red, and several varieties of white and red wines hailing from a Virginia vineyard called Chateau Morrissette. The winery welcomes dogs, hosts an annual Black Dog Summer Music Festival, and bottles up popular red and white varietals, including a Riesling blend called Our Dog Blue and a spicy, smooth Black Dog Red. Now, that’s something to bark about!

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Music Music Blog

The Dixie Dicks: Having Their Way With Country

While a quick Google search turns up such events as the Gay Ole Opry, begun in 2011, the subgenre of queer country music has been dominated by one artist, Phranc, for the last three decades. There are a handful of stars who have come out—namely Chely Wright, Brandy Clark and Ty Herndon—but the Nashville music scene is still, uh, dominated by straight guys in blue jeans.

Next week, Memphis group the Dixie Dicks throw their proverbial hot pink cowboy hats into the ring with the release of an EP, Vers. A record release party, labeled “Love Sucks and So Do the Dixie Dicks,” will take place at Bar DKDC on Valentine’s Day—Wednesday, February 14—at 9 pm. Produced by Kevin Cubbins at Pansy Foote Studio, 300 copies of the EP will be available on pink vinyl.

There is nothing average about the Dixie Dicks, although their self-deprecating demeanor onstage would have you think otherwise. Their musicianship, which harkens back to the folksy, bluegrass style re-popularized with the release of 2000’s O Brother, Where Art Thou?, is top-notch. Lyrically, Vers is a hoot, jam-packed with sing-a-longs about how “No one likes lesbian drama” or double-entendres like “You call me daddy while I feed you this meat.” Rather than sides A and B, the vinyl is labeled sides Top and Bottom. Get it?

I caught up with guitarist Brandon Pugh and percussionist Joel Parsons earlier this week (banjo player Brandon Ticer, who his bandmates declare is the only “real” musician in the group, was on tour as keyboardist for the New York-based rock band Wheatus).

“It’s fun because we’re all gay, but none of us are hooking up with each other,” said Pugh, who runs the organic Delta Sol Farm in Proctor, Arkansas. “I’m a camp counselor-level guitar player. I love country music, and I love bluegrass music. I still listen to a lot of that late-1980s early ‘90s country that I grew up with. I love Tanya Tucker, the Judds. Miranda Lambert—I’m obsessed with her now. She divorced that Blake Shelton guy, and he’s been a jerk about it. Meanwhile, she’s the last one at the bar—she doesn’t care, and she’s owning her shit.”

Pugh sees performing in the Dixie Dicks as an opportunity to “reclaim the weird stuff that happened to us [growing up], like being gay at a Christian camp.”

Their songs, he said, “are pretty crude—not parent friendly. At rehearsals, we’re cracking each other up. And then whoever says the dumbest, funniest thing, we’ll add it to the lyrics.”

Parsons, an artist and curator who runs the Clough-Hanson Gallery at Rhodes College, maintains that while the Dixie Dicks started as a lark, the band is taking the joke “very seriously.”

“To be completely honest, I know almost nothing about making music.,” Parsons continued. “My dad was a drummer, and I grew up around percussion. Brandon Pugh sustained interest in music in a self-taught way, while Brandon Ticer is an excellent musician who elevates our playing to another level. It’s a nice mix—we don’t get bogged down in arrangements or making it super-slick.”

When recording the EP, the Dixie Dicks wanted “everything to sound like as much fun as we’re having,” Parsons said. “Let’s not get too tight, or too perfect. Let’s leave some flubs and mess-ups and hootin’ and hollerin.’”

Some of his strongest childhood memories, he said, are riding in the backseat of his grandparents’ Lincoln Town Car around his hometown of Rogers, Arkansas, listening to George Jones, Dolly Parton and Reba McIntyre.

“I left that behind, but now I’m able to come back around and flip it,” Parsons said. “I can live inside this music that I didn’t think had a place for me. The Dixie Dicks are really, honestly a hundred percent country and really, honestly a hundred percent queer. Being onstage feels a little bit naughty, which makes it so much fun. Country music is so gay—we have a list of at least 50 songs which just need this word or that word changed to be queer. Like ‘Rock Me Daddy Like a Wagon Wheel’—they write themselves, we just have to tune it and sing it!”

Parson sees the Dixie Dicks as not just a way for him and his fellow musicians to reconcile their own identities as gay men, but as a reclamation of place for any Mid-Southerner who has come out of the closet.

“We have a really good mix of people at our shows: A hardcore contingent of badass middle-aged women, and people who come because it’s a gay thing to do, and a safe place to go. Then we have people who love the songs. I don’t think there’s been a huge country music following among the local [LGBTQ] community, so it’s been fun to watch them embrace their southern side,” Parsons said. “It’s something that a lot of people, including me before this band, have been a little hesitant to do.”

Cubbins, the producer, agreed. “That’s the most brilliant part of it—the Dixie Dicks go beyond one single audience,” he said. “There are so many layers to their songs, so much energy and spontaneity, yet so much attention to detail.”

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Music Music Features

Preston Shannon

For nearly 30 years, Memphis musician Preston Shannon plied his craft on Beale Street. A top-notch guitar player and entertainer, Shannon’s ability to combine raspy, soulful vocals, stinging guitar riffs on his hollow-bodied Gibson 335, and a sense of showmanship that was equal parts T-Bone Walker and Prince, earned him the sobriquet King of Beale Street. His presence there was only outshone by his reputation as a musician who always paid attention to younger talent and seemed more than willing to lend a helping hand.

Diagnosed with cancer last summer, Shannon quit performing before the holidays and passed away on Monday, January 22nd, at the age of 70. At his funeral last Saturday, he was eulogized as “an ambassador of Memphis who was comfortable anywhere in the world.”

Shannon was born October 23, 1947, on the outskirts of Memphis in Olive Branch, Mississippi. Interviewed for a 2016 Living Blues cover story, Shannon recalled picking cotton as a youth in Olive Branch and tuning into music by Albert King, B.B. King, and Bobby “Blue” Bland over a transistor radio. “At nine, I could go to the field and play in the cotton, but when I turned 10, they gave me my own personal sack,” Shannon recalled. “We could only listen to music when we’d go to sleep at night.”

His family settled in the southwest Memphis community known as Boxtown when Shannon was 11, and he soon began performing music in the Church of God in Christ (COGIC). By the 1960s, he was guitarist for a group called the Memphians, who recorded a seldom-heard LP at Royal Studios and released three sought-after singles, including a funk instrumental called “Breakdown.” In the 1970s, he played in a bar band called Amnesty and backed R&B singer Shirley Brown on the chitlin’ circuit before striking out on his own.

If you talk to Shannon’s bandmates and peers, three words dominate the conversation: Talent. Generosity. Support. Bassist John Williams, who backed Shannon at Rum Boogie in the late 1980s, remembers the guitarist as “a great entertainer who had the total package — the chops and the vocals. Maybe he could’ve had more success out of town, but Preston wanted to make noise for Memphis, to stay here and make it happen,” Williams says. “He always took care of his band here. If he went to Europe by himself, he always made sure we had plenty of work while he was gone. Even when he had to quit playing for good, he made sure that Tommy [Peters, manager of B.B. King’s] kept the band on. They’re still there every Sunday and Wednesday.”

Trumpeter Marc Franklin, who gigged with Shannon for years, says that Shannon brought authentic blues back to Beale Street. “Preston was that performer who really wanted to make people happy. He was so good at reading audiences and interacting with them. Modern blues has lost some of that. Now, it’s a lot of guitar shredding and screaming. Preston taught me how to put on a good show over and over again, whether it was for 20 people or 2,000 people.”

Jackie Clark played bass behind Shannon from 1999 until 2012, and produced his last album, 2014’s Dust My Broom. During his tenure with Shannon, Clark recalls a veritable who’s who of special guests who sat in with the group, including Tom Jones, Darius Rucker, and Buddy Miles.

“The funny thing about Preston is that he was successful in his own way, even though he never achieved mainstream success,” says Clark. “He wasn’t affiliated with a label, and he handled his own business. Sometimes it seemed like he preferred to protect his own band rather than become famous. He was happy when he was onstage, and everything he did was authentic. It was all about the feeling. He knew how to captivate a crowd with his energy, and even though I didn’t have the best stage presence when I started out with him, my energy was always high because of his energy. That was the draw.”

Dropping in on one of Shannon’s gigs, “was like walking into a party,” guitarist Joe Restivo says, noting that Shannon was constantly employing young up-and-comers to keep his band fresh — and making the rounds to other clubs after his own gig ended for the night.

“He was legitimately interested in what guys like me were doing,” Restivo says. “He’d see me on the street and ask, ‘Where ya going, how ya been?’ It wasn’t just small talk — I’d tell him about a gig John Williams and I were going to have, and he’d actually show up. Some artists of his stature might not do that. He’d say something like, ‘I like you, young man. Keep it up!’ Maybe he’d sit in with us, or I’d end up doing some pick-up gigs with him. It meant a lot.”

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Low-Carb Booze

CREDIT: Edith Layland | Dreamstime.com

I’m currently on a low-carb kick. Food-wise, that means bread, pasta, and some vegetables are out. Thankfully, I can still drink, within reason, but those missing carbs are making me a cheap date, indeed. And the amount of protein I’m eating makes finishing even one glass of booze a Herculean feat.

If you’re doing a modified Whole 30, keto, or a straightforward low-carb diet, it can be difficult to navigate your way through a bar menu. Anything with a nectar or juice base is off limits. Diet colas are allowable, but be careful — all that fake sweetener can lead to cravings for the real thing.

I’m still routinely sipping on my gin and diet tonic water, with a splash of lime. But I’ve discovered that as my taste buds change, I really prefer the tartness of tequila and club soda. Other liquors that work on a low- or zero-carb diet are rum and brandy. Try mixing any of these with soda, seltzer, or diet tonic water. Garnish with lime, fresh cucumber slices, a sprig of mint, basil, or even rosemary.

Edith Layland | Dreamstime.com

Online, I found a recipe for a sugar-free gin fizz that contains just one gram of carbs. I skipped the teaspoon of artificial sweetener and combined two ounces of gin, ½ ounce lime juice, and an egg white in a cocktail shaker. I shook for two minutes, then poured the now-frothy concoction into a chilled glass and topped it with club soda. The cocktail was a fancy addition to the bunless lamb burger I grilled for supper one warmish evening last week.

White Russians are also a no-brainer for low-carb drinkers, thanks to the heavy cream included in the recipe. The adaptation I found online at Verywell.com requires that you make your own low-carb coffee liqueur several weeks before drinking, so consider yourself warned.

A low-carb Bloody Mary can be made much more quickly. Simply bypass the store-bought mix for your own, made from tomato juice, fresh lemon juice, celery salt, hot sauce, and Worcestershire sauce. Use a smaller glass (a highball glass works well here) filled with ice, and combine a jigger of vodka with up to three ounces of tomato juice and the accompanying seasonings. Garnish with a celery stick, cornichons, and a few feta-stuffed olives.

I’m waiting for the avocados resting on my countertop to ripen enough to create a round of avocado margaritas. There are dozens of recipes online, but the best one, inspired by a margarita served at Austin’s famed Curra’s Grill (which will forever be known as the restaurant where I dined at a table next to Randy Travis) is found on Bon Appetit’s website. You simply puree one pitted and peeled avocado with tequila, a little triple sec, lime juice, fresh cilantro, a pinch of cayenne, and plenty of ice. If sugar is an issue, skip the triple sec.

Make a low-carb “purple drank” by combining blackberries, ice, and fresh-squeezed lime juice in the blender. Add the clear liquor of your choice. The tartness will cause you to sip slowly and savor the taste. That’s a good thing — it’s easy to get sloshed when you don’t have a carbohydrate foundation to absorb all the alcohol. Your liver metabolizes slower when it has ample supplies of glycogen, a byproduct of glucose that is derived from sugar and carbs. When you’re eating low-carb, any alcohol in your system will be instantly metabolized, which makes you feel drunker sooner.

If wine is your thing, drink Champagne, which has just 1.5 grams of carbs per five-ounce glass. Sauvignon Blanc is your next best bet, coming in at 2.7 grams of carbs. If you’re a red wine lover, go for the Pinot Noir, which has 3.4 grams of carbs. Stay away from the sweeter wines at all costs, including Zinfandel, Moscato, and Riesling.

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Music Music Features

Farewell to Wild Bill’s (Updated)

For many years, you could often find me at 1580 Vollintine, in a sleepy strip mall in the Klondike neighborhood. There, at the juke joint known as Wild Bill’s, it felt like the party would never end. Many of us took out-of-town friends there. Cyndi Lauper, Yo-Yo Ma, and filmmaker Alejandro Gonzales Inarritu were among the many luminaries who visited over the years. Director Dan Rose shot a scene there for his underground epic, Wayne County Ramblin’ (featuring Iggy Pop), casting two-thirds of the Gories and Lorette Velvette as the house band. Everyone reacted with the same fervor: Wild Bill’s was unlike any other place on the planet.

“We had people from all different countries visit every weekend,” says vocalist and author Charles Cason, who emceed at the club. “I remember when I was performing at B.B. King’s, the tourists went up and down Beale Street and saw everything they needed to see, and then they’d ask where they could see pure, unadulterated down-home blues. We’d always recommend Wild Bill’s.”

In the early days, you flung the door open to Wild Bill himself — William Storey, a native of New Albany, Mississippi, who came to Memphis in 1937, started driving a cab in 1948, and began running nightclubs in 1964. He eventually opened Wild Bill’s in the early 1990s. Despite his sobriquet, Wild Bill was a somber cat. He’d eyeball you, hold up a number of fingers based on the size of your group, and once you handed over the cover charge, he’d slide off his stool and guide you past the band to a seat at one of the three long rows of card tables that lined the room.

They sold cold 40-ounce beers and hot fried buffalo fish and fried chicken. When the dance floor got hopping, waiters Buddy and Mike strode up and down the room with giant plastic chitlin buckets, collecting tips. The band was typically an amalgamation of groups like the Hollywood All-Stars and the Blues Busters, with plenty of special guests and pick-up musicians thrown into the mix.

For a white person like me, Wild Bill’s offered a glimpse of a Memphis that others thought had dried up and blown away decades before. The smoky milieu was home to a unique black subculture, dominated by people of my grandparents’ generation — and I always felt welcome. Its proximity to the Rhodes College campus made it a haven for college kids wanting a taste of the real blues.

“Wild Bill’s was like church, with its own congregation,” says musicologist David Evans, who recorded most of the club’s musicians for University of Memphis label High Water Records. “In the 1980s and 1990s, there were a few clubs like that, but Wild Bill’s was just about the last one standing. These clubs were for the black community. White folks started visiting, and I think at Wild Bill’s, whites became a large factor, once they discovered it.”

The Hollywood All Stars on High Water Records

House guitar player Levester “Big Lucky” Carter died in 2002, leaving a large hole. Storey himself died in 2006, leaving the club to his wife, Lerlene, who ran the joint for several more years. Keyboardist William “Boogie” Hubbard, who had honed his craft backing up the likes of Memphis Minnie, passed soon after. And in 2012, effervescent bassist Melvin Lee died, leaving drummer Don Valentine as one of the few original members of the house band.

In more recent years, Wild Bill’s was run by a woman named Michelle (who did not respond to queries for this story). Around the first of the year, local stations ran stories about the club’s demise. According to news reports, landlord Rashad Alasdi pulled the plug on the venue because rent hadn’t been paid since last May. Cason contradicts that report, asserting that the property owner was actually behind on property taxes.

“It had to be something extremely crucial for [the club owner] to close at a time like that,” Cason says. “Here it was the weekend of New Year’s Eve. It was going to be a full house, wall-to-wall. And on December 29th, we suddenly got the notice that it was closed. The feds had enough consideration to call ahead and let her know that the taxes were way behind and they were coming to lock down Wild Bill’s. They suggested she carry out her stuff in advance — otherwise, everything inside the building would be confiscated.”

Evans laments Wild Bill’s closure, noting its impact on the local music community. “The musicians were part-time,” he says. “They made all right money, and most of the people who came to listen to them were their friends. It was also an incubator of talent, where younger musicians could sit in. Some musicians might have gotten their start at Wild Bill’s, or found the impetus to keep playing. Wild Bill’s kept Memphis blues going in the black community on a weekly basis.”

UPDATE, Feb. 17, 2018: Wild Bill’s Reopens.
Two days ago, Facebook followers were greeted with the following post:
“We’re baaaaaack! Come get your fill at the NEWLY REOPENED Wild Bill’s this Friday and Saturday night! Same great place, same crazy people, same cold beer, same hot music… only we’ll be starting a little earlier this time around for those of you who can’t wait to get dancing! Don’t call it a comeback. We been here for YEARS!”

The bar’s phone number remains disconnected, but by all indications the club has indeed been revived. Charles Cason, the emcee quoted above, was as surprised and delighted as anyone by the news. In celebration, we offer this tasty video from nearly twenty years ago…

Farewell to Wild Bill’s (Updated)

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Sailor Jerry Rum: Legend in a Bottle

Sailor Jerry Rum might evoke visions of native girls beckoning on Hawaiian beaches and deeply tanned sailors at Fleet Week, but the day I talk spiced rum with Sailor Jerry brand ambassador Daniel “Gravy” Thomas, the view outside my office window, Memphis is frozen under an inch of ice and snow. Yet I gamely whip up a Sailor Jerry Hot Chocolate to sip during our conversation.

Thomas, a Philadelphia native, lives what he likes to refer to as a “360 roll” working for Sailor Jerry. He’s a natural evangelist for the brand — like the spiced rum’s namesake, Norman “Sailor Jerry” Collins, he’s an enthusiast of hard work, good times, tattoo art, music, and the do-it-yourself ethos. This week, he’s celebrating what would’ve been Collins’ 117th birthday; the American icon was born on January 14, 1911.

What exactly does being a brand ambassador entail?

You can find me in the morning at the local distributor, speaking to a sales team and telling them about Sailor Jerry working with Iggy Pop, or explaining what a shave-and-a-haircut pop-up is, or talking about an upcoming motorcycle event.

I’ve brought in a tattoo artist to a conference room, and asked, ‘Does anyone want to volunteer?’ They’re the ones selling the brand, so I want them to understand the ethos of it. Do they know what the brand is up to and where we’re going? Do they know that we hit a million cases last year? I give them the 101 on Sailor Jerry: Why we are a spiced rum, why we’re 92 proof. I break it down so they can be well-equipped when they talk to the bartenders.

Then I might run over to a news station and do a drink segment. Later, I’ll go to the local bartenders’ guild and talk to the bartenders who are movers and shakers in the community. We make sure that waitstaff know what the hell they’re saying. We’re not that pirate, we’re not that sea monster — we’re the O.G. Then I might host a party — maybe something with a band or a DJ. The next morning, I get up and do the admin work — all the recaps and expense reports.

It sounds more like a way of life than a career.

Yes! It’s working with tattoo artists and musicians who love that spirit of “I’m going to live life my way; I’m gonna get all in with what I do.” I come from that generation of hustle, when people were out there street-teaming it. There was no social media back then. I got my start because I was skateboarding down the street and walked into GYRO [Worldwide, a Philly-based advertising agency that became Quaker City Mercantile, the creative team behind Hendrick’s Gin and Narragansett Beer, as well as Sailor Jerry Rum] to visit a friend. Someone said, “Yo, I like your tattoos. What do you do?” Next thing you know, I was doing events.

How did last year’s hurricanes affect your rum production?

Our rums are sourced from Puerto Rico, and we’re good; our supply is steadfast. It’s blended stateside in Edison, New Jersey. We’re very proud to be employing American workers.

What’s your preferred way to drink spiced rum?

I’ve got my low-brow way and my sorta high-brow way. I like a taste that’s a little sweet and a little sour, so I’ll do a shot of Sailor Jerry with a pickleback. I also really enjoy a Sailor Jerry ginger daiquiri that’s garnished with candied ginger. Jerry loves ginger; it’s full of vibrant Caribbean spices that go extremely well with it. It’s not that old-school rum and cola flavor that reminds people of what their parents’ parents drank. This has the tasting notes of a true brown spirit, comparable to a whisky or a scotch.

It’s 25 degrees in Memphis; what about drinking spiced rum in wintertime?

It’s perfect for hot toddies or hot chocolate. Or a Negroni, a Manhattan, or an Old Fashioned. You can use it like any good brown liquor.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Au Pear: Drinks With a Fruity Edge

Pears are having a moment. My interest in the winter fruit, a staple of holiday gift baskets, was piqued in late November, when I discovered a recipe for a sparkling pear sangria on the website The Kitchn. There, the cocktail was touted as a Hanukkah crowd pleaser, but it’s simple enough to make for any gathering. Core and slice a few green pears (Bartlett or D’Anjou), and toss into a pitcher filled with Prosecco (or cava), pear liqueur, lemon juice, and seltzer. Don’t have pear liqueur in your liquor cabinet? St. Germain Elderflower liqueur will do.

Ever since sampling that crisp, elegant drink, I’ve noticed pear cocktails popping up everywhere. Downtown, Automatic Slim’s has a Peartini (made with Absolut Pear) on the menu; on the other side of town, East Tapas & Drinks has a version of the pear martini that includes an infusion of ginger. At Alchemy in Cooper-Young, you can sip a concoction that includes pear puree, pear vodka, and Prosecco.

A bottle of that Absolut Pear, which you should be able to find on the shelf of your favorite liquor store, is something I recommend having on hand this time of year. The subtle flavor addition makes the tedium of January a little easier to tolerate, especially if you use it to create drinks like the Tuscan Pear, which I found on The Spruce. This cocktail, served in a lowball glass, is an easy blend of pear vodka, limoncello, a ginger liqueur (if you have it), simple syrup, and orange juice. If that’s not your style, check out AbsolutDrinks.com for inspiration: You can make a Pears Mule, a pear and mango Collins, a Pear Fizz, and much, much more.

You can also make your own pear vodka, if you have the time. Simply core up to 10 pears and cut them into wedges, place in a sterilized jar, and cover with vodka. Seal the jar, and place in a cool, dry place for at least two weeks. Strain, and decant into a bottle.

Or just make a spiced pear syrup. Via their food blog, Nerds with Knives, Matt and Emily recommend chopping a few sweet pears and combining them with a cup of water, ½ cup white wine, a cup of sugar, a cinnamon stick, star anise, and a strip of lemon zest to make a variation on simple syrup. Once that’s done, use it as the base for a Spiced Poached Pear Cocktail, a blend of vodka, Lillet Blanc, spiced pear syrup, and fresh rosemary.

The website for Tito’s Vodka, one of my favorite brands, has their own recipe for a Spiced Pear Cocktail, which also has a spiced syrup for the base. This one is flavored with cinnamon sticks, fresh ginger, a vanilla bean, allspice, cloves, and star anise. Combine a half-ounce of the finished product with an ounce of Tito’s, and a half-ounce each of pear liqueur and pear nectar. Shake, pour into a martini glass, and top with Champagne or Prosecco.

It’s also easy to make your own roasted pear puree: Just core and slice two Bartlett pears, then roast them until they begin to caramelize. Toss the pears into the blender with a few tablespoons of fresh lemon juice and 1/8 teaspoon of ground cloves. Now you’ve got the base for a bourbon-pear mixer, made by adding a cup of puree to two cups of bourbon and ½ cup maple syrup. Refrigerate the mixer for up to four hours, then use it to make a sparkling bourbon pear cocktail by topping the mixer with sparkling wine. Drink enough of these, and you’ll see a partridge in a pear tree, even though Christmas was last month.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Warm and Wonderful Drinks for the Holidays

The end-of-the-year holidays are upon us.

This year, for some reason, the mad dash to New Year’s Eve feels like the end of days. Maybe it’s strain caused by the political clime, anxiety about North Korea’s newfound nuclear abilities, or just a general discomfort about the money I’m piddling away as I prepare for Christmas. Whatever it is, I find myself stressing — and drinking — a little more than normal.

One thing I won’t worry about is how to entertain this holiday season. And no, I’m not locking the front door and turning out the lights. Instead, I’m plugging in my trusty slow cooker, and filling it full of booze. I think it’s something Barbara Stanwyck might’ve done in the 1945 romantic comedy Christmas in Connecticut — in which the formidable actress portrays madcap journalist Elizabeth Lane, a single woman who masquerades as a Martha Stewart of the post-WWII era. Lane didn’t know her way around the kitchen, but she knew how to fake it well enough to have a ridiculously fun holiday. Slow cookers didn’t appear on the market until five years after Christmas in Connecticut debuted, but had they existed, Lane would’ve used one to keep her cocktails simmering.

Last week, my co-columnist Richard Murff offhandedly mentioned an Alabaman he knew who filled a coffee urn with a mixture of vodka and Red Hots and tried to pass it off as a holiday quaff — an Elizabeth Lane gaffe if I’ve ever heard one. I’m happy to report that for the rest of us, there are much more sophisticated slow cooker cocktail recipes available. They make entertaining much simpler, too — instead of mixing individual drinks, you can combine the ingredients beforehand and let them meld while you mingle with your party guests.

Last weekend, I got slightly buzzed on Southern Living‘s Orange Spiced Cider. The drink — a combination of apple cider and dark rum, spiced up with cinnamon sticks, cloves, allspice, nutmeg, an orange and ¼ cup brown sugar — takes a little prep work, but it will make your kitchen smell delicious. Boil everything but the rum in a pot on the stove, then strain and discard the solids. An hour or two before your guests arrive, pour the concoction into your slow cooker, add the rum, and let it simmer. Put out a ladle, some cinnamon sticks, and your best coffee mugs.

Over at Delish.com, I found a slow cooker recipe for a familiar party grog: that old favorite called mulled wine. This drink is made directly in the slow cooker — all you need is a bottle of red wine, apple cider, cranberry juice, sugar, cranberries and oranges, plus the usual spices: cinnamon sticks, cloves, and star anise. Cook on high for at least 30 minutes, and serve warm.

Cranberries, oranges, and cinnamon sticks also make a mean Hot Sangria. You’ll need two bottles of Rioja, a cup of brandy, peppercorns, and a few more ingredients to make your cocktails pop. Find the recipe — and some great serving ideas — at the website Inspired By Charm. Pro tip: Serve these drinks in clear glass mugs, if you have them. This is one beautiful drink!

For a lighter take on mulled wine, pour a bottle of Riesling, a few cups of apple cider, and ¼ cup honey into the slow cooker. Tie a knob of fresh ginger, some allspice, and a few cardamom pods into a piece of cheesecloth, and cook everything on low for 3 to 4 hours. Just before serving, stir in ½ cup of Calvados. Serve this Mulled Reisling Punch (the full recipe is available on Better Homes & Gardens‘ website, bgh.com) with a garnish of apple slice and a cinnamon stick.

There are also dozens of spiked hot cocoa recipes online that are suitable for the slow cooker. My favorite is a Baileys Irish Cream Hot Chocolate. You’ll want to start this recipe a few hours before serving. Just put 8 ounces of high-quality semi-sweet chocolate into the slow cooker, along with ½ cup each of unsweetened cocoa powder and sugar. Add a tablespoon of vanilla extract (I recommend Mexican vanilla for extra flavor), 1 cup of heavy cream, and 6 cups of milk. Cover and cook on high for 90 minutes, stirring every half-hour. Once everything has melted, add a cup of Baileys to the mix.

Serve with marshmallows or a dab of whipped cream. Sip, ideally, while you’re watching the family unwrap their presents on Christmas morning, or while you’re curled up on the couch watching a holiday classic — my favorites are Holiday Inn, The Man Who Came to Dinner, and, yes, Christmas in Connecticut. Thanks to the Baileys, and the effects of the slow cooker, this drink will warm you from the inside out, making for a very merry holiday.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Give Booze. It’s Always the Right Size

I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in a week. I have pneumonia, and my nightly toddy has been replaced with steroids, antibiotics, and endless rounds of cough syrup.

I’m still thinking about booze, though — when I can keep my eyes open, I’ve been using my strictly enforced downtime to complete my holiday shopping. In some cases, that means making shopping lists of items like a traditional bottle of Kahlua for a friend, or the de rigueur locally-brewed growlers that I export personally from Memphis to my brother in rural Georgia. In other cases, that means searching virtual store shelves for something that looks truly unique.

If you’re a film buff like me, you’ll love the labels used by the vineyard Killibinbin, located halfway around the world in Langhorne Creek, South Australia. A few of the bigger liquor stores in town stock Killibinbin Sneaky Shiraz, which was bottled in 2013. The wine inside the bottle tastes fruity and crisp, while the bottle label features a very noir drawing of a dame in a trench coat on the label. Priced at under $15 a bottle, I’d pair it with a Blu-ray of a Hitchcock flick, or a copy of John Huston’s 1941 masterpiece The Maltese Falcon. Granted, Sam Spade is more of a whiskey drinker, but the Sneaky Shiraz is still a classy gift.

Along the same lines, a case of Francis Ford Coppola’s Director’s Cut — either a Chardonnay or a Zinfandel — would make a great gift alongside a box set of The Godfather. “I like to drink wine more than I used to,” Vito Corleone sagely noted to his son, Michael, in Coppola’s sprawling Mafioso epic. Your lucky recipient can make it through all 539 minutes of the organized crime saga and have a few bottles left over.

Shopping for a world traveler? The black-and-white vineyard maps that grace the bottles of Portuguese imports from Churchill’s Estates are so elegant that these bottles don’t need wrapping. Churchill’s Estates Douro 2012, a peppery red wine, can be procured locally for under $20 per bottle.

Globe trotters might also appreciate a bottle of Boarding Pass, a Spanish Shiraz by R Wines that comes emblazoned with a fun, but no-nonsense blue-and-white label. I’ve found it on local shelves for just under $20.

Graphic design lovers should seek out the popular Willamette Valley, Oregon, vineyard Mouton Noir. The winery has a great-looking — and tasting — line of reds and whites from the mid-2010s that run between $16 and $42 per bottle. Look for their O.P.P. — Other People’s Pinot, an earthy and spicy Pinot Noir with a simple white label slapped on the bottle. It retails for $21, while the winery’s Mouton Noir Lieu-dit 2013, which bears a charming, if crudely-rendered, black sheep on the label, sells for $25.

Stroll down any good shop’s aisles, and you’ll see it all, including bottles bearing blooms, bicycles, birds, and time bombs. Be aware that purchasing a wine by label alone can backfire on you — sometimes the product inside tastes underwhelming in comparison to the kitschy artwork on the outside of the bottle. For under $15, it’s worth the experiment. For much more, I recommend deferring to store personnel, who generally excel on solid recommendations at all price points.

In some cases, I’m eschewing labels altogether: For a group of girlfriends, I’ve purchased Memphis-centric “We Grind Here” foam sleeves from a local purveyor. As soon as I’m well enough to resume my shopping in person, I’ll purchase cans of wine (Underwood, at $7/can) to slip inside each koozie. The Grizzlies might not be doing well, but these will make great stocking stuffers, and they’re perfect for popping into your purse for an outdoor hang-out. Don’t tell Santa, or my doctor, but I went ahead and bought a koozie for myself, too.