Author: Andria Lisle

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Go Local for Thanksgiving Drinks and Dinner

If you’re like most Americans — me included — you’re probably about to sit down to a hyper-local Thanksgiving with a heritage turkey that roamed Tennessee fields, pecans that just fell from the tree, and sweet potatoes that were purchased directly from an area farmer. So why, then, would you look to Europe for your Thanksgiving wine?

Yes, I know — this time last year, I extolled the virtues of Beaujolais nouveau, a fruity French wine. For this week’s feast, however, I plan to give thanks while celebrating the best American drinks I can afford.

It’s a no-brainer to support the winemakers of northern California, who are now in the process of assessing the long-term effects of last month’s devastating wildfires. According to the Los Angeles Times and numbers reported by the Wine Institute, an industry advocate, only 10 of 1,200 wineries in Sonoma, Napa and Mendocino were destroyed, and 90 percent of the 2017 harvest was complete when disaster struck, but the region needs a boost. Short of a vacation to Napa Valley, buying their products will help winemakers and staff return to normal. Some wineries are also pledging a percentage of sales directly to fire victims. Look for Iron Horse Vineyards 2012 Gratitude, a pinot noir and chardonnay blend — $5 from every bottle sold goes to the Redwood Empire Food Bank. The entire proceeds from bottles of Limerick Lane’s 2014 Syrah Grenache, meanwhile, go to the North Bay Fire Relief Fund.

If you’d like to experiment without breaking the bank, the Top 100 Best Buys for 2017 at Wine Enthusiast lists plenty of affordable domestic wines that will shine at your special meal. The Glenora 2015 Riesling, which hails from the Finger Lakes region, costs just $14 a bottle. Or, for the same price, you can pick up Duck Pond’s 2016 Pinot Gris, which was bottled in Oregon’s booming Williamette Valley. Three out of the very top five wines selected by Wine Enthusiast‘s critics come from these shores: The A to Z 2016 Riesling, another Oregon wine; Woodbridge by Robert Mondavi 2015 Pinot Noir, a California wine; and Columbia Crest’s 2015 Grand Estates Syrah, which comes from the Columbia Valley region of Washington State.

Wine sales aren’t permitted on Thanksgiving Day, so unless your cellar is already well-stocked, you might have to expand your horizons to drink local.

With a few cups of Kentucky bourbon and an hour or two head start, you can make a gorgeous Earl Grey-Bourbon Punch. I found the perfect recipe in the November 2016 edition of Bon Appetit. Bonus points if you use local honey and rosemary sprigs cut from a bush in your own yard.

Food & Wine has a recipe for a Hard Cider Sangria that looks deliciously festive and can easily be made with local ingredients, beginning with one of the small-batch ciders brewed by the fabulous Long Road Cider Company. Pick up a bottle at their headquarters in Barretsville or at various locations around town, including Miss Cordelia’s Grocery on Mud Island and the Madison Growler Shop inside Midtown’s Cash Saver.

That hard cider can also be combined with cognac in a Collins glass for a drink that the writers at Epicurious have coined “The Fall Spritz.” Or pair hard cider with Tennessee whiskey, simple syrup, an orange slice, and a few dashes of bitters for a drink that Maxim magazine dubbed the Fall Fashioned.

If all else fails, pick up a six-pack or growler of Memphis beer on your way to dinner. Look for Memphis Made’s Rye Felicia or Fireside Amber, Wiseacre’s Gemütlichkeit Oktoberfest Marzenbier, the High Cotton Chocolate Rye Porter (perfect for those who want to skip pecan pie), or Ghost River’s Citra Smash. Ranging from yeasty and toasty flavors to the seemingly ubiquitous pale ale, any of these have attributes that earn them a seat at the Thanksgiving table.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Chile Today

I’m more of a diehard traditionalist than an experimenter when it comes to cocktails. I like what I like, and my liquor cabinet is stocked with standards that you’d find anywhere. It’s not even a cabinet, per se, but two trays — one on a cart in my dining room, the other on my kitchen counter. The dining room tray contains varietals that I use less often, such as Vermouth and Cachaça, and the kitchen tray bears the basics — gin, tequila, and vodka — plus whatever I’m into at the moment.

Right now, that moment is spicy, thanks to Ancho Reyes Verde, a chile liqueur that has migrated from Mexico to Tennessee liquor store shelves this fall. The elixir, which has roots in Puebla de Zaragoza, Mexico, actually dates back to 1927. It just took 90 years to find its way to Memphis, thanks to Milagro Tequila’s Daniel Schneeweiss and Moises Guindi, who unearthed the forgotten recipe that utilizes Puebla’s signature crop, the ancho chile.

Ancho Reyes Verde is made from chiles that were harvested early, then fire roasted while still green. They’re soaked in neutral sugarcane spirits for six months, mashed during the maceration process, then filtered through mesh and paper. The 80-proof greenish-amber liqueur that results tastes fresh and bright and packs a twangy, unforgettable kick. It’ll do all the heavy lifting for drinking this fall.

The versatile liqueur mixes well with clear liquors, such as tequila, gin, or vodka. It packs a welcome punch that elevates cocktails like margaritas and gimlets to a higher plane. Like citrus zest, the flavor of a vegetable you’ve just picked in your own garden, or the promise of a crisp fall afternoon, it adds a transformative zing that, until you taste it, you don’t realize that you’ve been missing. Think of it, as L.A. Weekly food writer Brad Japhe says, “as bartender’s Sriracha … a way to infuse spicy flavor into any recipe.”

The herbaceous flavor of Ancho Reyes Verde makes it a perfect match for Hendrick’s or any of the boutique gins on the market. I love the Ancho Gimlet, which combines equal parts of Ancho Reyes Verde, Hendrick’s, and lime juice with a half-part of simple syrup. The ingredients are shaken with ice, then strained and garnished with a cucumber slice to cut the heat.

I don’t have a juicer, but I’d love to try a Night of the Iguana, a cocktail that calls for two ounces of Hendrick’s, ¼ ounce Ancho Reyes Verde, ¾ ounce celery juice, 1/3 ounce cucumber juice, ¾ ounce lemon juice, ¾ ounce simple syrup, and a pinch of sea salt. Like the Ancho Gimlet, all the ingredients are shaken with ice, then garnished with cucumber.

Quick and easy is more my speed, which is why I gravitated toward the vodka-soda-Verde recipe I found on Food & Wine‘s website. The recipe calls for 1 ounce vodka, ½ ounce of Ancho Reyes Verde, ½ ounce simple syrup, and ¾ ounce fresh lime juice, plus a dash of Angostura bitters. The ingredients are shaken and stirred, then strained into a tall glass with ice and topped with club soda and a lime wedge. Right now, it’s my current favorite Sunday afternoon drink, part of my recovery ritual after spending an intense hour on the soccer field as part of the over-35 women’s indoor league.

Ancho Reyes Verde also works well in a daiquiri as a counterpart to a good white rum, or in a traditional margarita. Add it to anything citrus-based, such as a Paloma or a Greyhound. Get crafty, or transform your favorite traditional cocktail recipe. It’ll knock your proverbial socks off — I guarantee it.

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Music Music Blog

Hell on Earth: A Memphis Tradition Returns

Misti Lombardi

My memories of Hell on Earth, Misty White’s Halloween institution, are hazy, yet visceral: Observing Tav Falco as he morphed into a deadpan caricature of Charlie Chaplin while leading the Panther Burns through a chugging interpretation of an old rockabilly hit; standing, enchanted, as I watched Neighborhood Texture Jam perform surgery on a sex doll stuffed full of dog food; gazing at Bob X’s perfectly wrought florescent posters while Jim Duckworth’s guitar cacophony wailed in the background.

For me, the pinnacle of Hell on Earth was the early 1990s, when it was de rigueur to drop a tab of LSD or gorge on pot brownies as the circus went on around me. Hell on Earth typically drew together the best—and worst—of Memphis music, with stellar homegrown talents like Alex Chilton and Luther Dickinson sharing the stage with one-off groups that disbanded as quickly as they formed. Plywood Doghouse, anyone?

From her home in Toulouse, France, White—now known as Misti Lombardi—says that her favorite Hell on Earth moment was that Neighborhood Texture Jam performance, dubbed “Unnecessary Surgery.”

Hell on Earth: A Memphis Tradition Returns

Other favorite memories include “wiping entrails on the leg of Steve Selvidge’s velvet bell bottoms while he was playing!” says Lombardi, herself a veteran of iconic Memphis bands the Hellcats, Alluring Strange, and the Zippin Pippins. “[And] when Al Kapone played, all the Admiral Fishdart appearances… Hell on Earth 4, when Reverend Horton Heat played, and he wore my halo later.”

This week, Lombardi is returning to her adopted home of Memphis—she was raised in Arkansas and moved here with her twin, Kristy White, when they were teenagers—to reprise Hell on Earth at Bar DKDC on Sunday night.

She’s been in Toulouse for several years, after meeting and marrying Philippe Lombardi, a French musician and producer who passed away unexpectedly in 2016.

At Hell on Earth, Lombardi will perform with her old Hellcats bandmates Lorette Velvette and Su Hartline, Panther Burns drummer Ross Johnson, Velvette’s husband and Memphis Flyer music editor Alex Greene, Jonny Ciaramitaro, and another one-time Memphian now residing in France, Harlan T. Bobo.

Lombardi’s been working with Bobo in Toulouse at a recording studio called Swampland, where they’re putting the finishing touches on Worth the Wait, an album Lombardi started recording with her late husband three years ago. The album, engineered by Lo Spider, is expected for release at Christmas on her new label, Misty White Music.

Hell on Earth takes place at Bar DKDC at 964 S. Cooper this Sunday, October 29, from 10 pm to 1 am.

Mike McCarthy’s film, Destroy Memphis, featuring extensive footage of the Zippin Pippins, will screen tonight at Malco’s Studio on the Square, 7:00 pm. Misti Lombardi will perform before the film.)

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Spooky Spirits

CREDIT: Eugene Bochkarev | Dreamstime

Whether you’re hosting friends for Halloween fun this weekend, sipping drinks while manning the candy bowl for trick-or-treaters, or ringing doorbells with your own costumed kids, I urge you to get into the “spirit” of the season with a specialty cocktail.

Go for the jugular, and try making a deep purple or red drink that would make Dracula salivate. Martha Stewart’s website has a recipe for a crowd-pleasing Spiced (and Spiked) Concord Grape Punch, which combines vodka with Concord grape juice, cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, nutmeg, and simple syrup. An alternative is Real Simple‘s Vampire Punch, a blend of Campari, gin, orange juice, club soda, simple syrup, and pomegranate seeds.

Saveur, meanwhile, offers the Little Devil, a mean blend of tequila, mescal, cherry liqueur, agave, lime juice, and Ancho Reyes ancho chile liqueur, a major flavor booster that I plan to write about in a future column. Traditionally served in a rocks glass, the Little Devil could be decanted into a Mason jar for door-to-door trick-or-treating. Thanks to the Ancho Reyes, the drink packs a nice heat that will keep you warm on a crisp fall evening.

You can also use that cherry liqueur to mix up a classic Blood and Sand, a Scotch and vermouth concoction named for the 1922 silent film starring Rudolph Valentino. Or “bloody” your beer with a michelada-like recipe I found via Bon Appetit‘s website, which combines tomato juice, lime juice, hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce, and light beer in glasses rimmed with a blend of salt and red pepper flakes.

If you prefer your Halloween more silly than spooky, I recommend making the Jack-O-Lantern, a nice cocktail to nurse while you’re greeting trick-or-treaters at the front door. The drink is simple to make, but, thanks to its bright orange color, feels particularly Halloween-y. Just pour 1 ounce cognac, 1 ½ ounces orange juice, ½ ounce ginger ale, and ½ ounce Grand Marnier into a cocktail shaker, then strain into an old fashioned glass over ice. Top the drink with an orange wheel that has a lime peel poked through it to create a “pumpkin stem.”

Eugene Bochkarev | Dreamstime

The devil is in the details: Rim your drinking glass with lime juice and colored sugar, found in the baking aisle of the grocery store. Make eyeball garnishes, using large, seedless grapes augmented with blueberry pupils — or get the same effect with pitted olives stuffed with chunks of baby carrots. If you have time, peel radishes to create a “bloodshot” effect, then use a melon baller to scoop out enough space for a halved pimento-stuffed green olive, which makes the perfect iris and pupil. Stick any of these on a toothpick, then drop them into your martini glass for an instant fright.

If you’re pulling out all the stops for a costume party, place dry ice under your punch bowl, and fill and freeze surgical gloves to make ice cube “hands” to cool the concoction inside it. Or, if you’re serving hard cider, create shrunken heads by carving faces into Granny Smith apples a few days before the party, then float them in the cider.

What I don’t recommend for Halloween: drinking Zombies or any variation thereof. The name sounds apt for Halloween, but a Zombie can take most mortals from a good time to a black-out drunk faster than you can say Victor Frankenstein. And the last thing you want to have happen this weekend is to turn from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde. Save the Zombie for another night. Drink safely, and have fun!

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Drinkin’ NOLA

It takes a certain mindset to drive into New Orleans 48 hours before a hurricane is expected to make landfall. I left Memphis after work last Thursday, wavering a few times before gassing up and heading south. My destination was the 13th Ponderosa Stomp. South-bound traffic was nonexistent, and five hours later, I was parking my car on Carondelet Street, the lyrics to Louis Armstrong’s “Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans” ricocheting through my head.

Ace Hotel bar

I settled into the Ace Hotel’s Lobby Bar and ordered a Sazerac. I’m not normally a whisky drinker, but the complicated cocktail — allegedly America’s first, created by Antoine Peychaud in a French Quarter watering hole in 1838 — seemed appropriate. Spicy yet slightly sweet, it was the perfect sipping drink.

I slept in on Friday and failed to make it to Frenchman Street to visit Old New Orleans Rum. The distillery, in business since 1995, produces the highest-rated rum on this continent. Their Cajun Spice Rum, which is steeped with cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, cloves, ginger, vanilla, chicory, and cayenne, provides my favorite base for a Dark and Stormy. God only knows why it’s not currently available on liquor store shelves in Memphis, but whenever I’m in New Orleans, I try to buy a few bottles to import into Tennessee.

I stayed at the Ace, where I was due to moderate a panel discussion with Carla and Vaneese Thomas on Friday afternoon. Beforehand, I guzzled a Tanqueray and tonic, served in a go-cup at Josephine Estelle, Andy Ticer and Michael Hudman’s southernmost outpost.

That evening, I walked around the block for drinks and dinner at Herbsaint, Donald Link’s restaurant, audaciously named for the anise-flavored liqueur, another New Orleans creation. I was meeting friends and I made sure to arrive early to enjoy a drink in the restaurant’s small but elegant bar. Truth be told, due to the impending storm, the bar had more diners than drinkers, and within seconds of my arrival, I was sipping a cucumber-garnished Pimm’s Cup.

Pimm’s was an excellent choice — it paid homage to my dining companions, guitarist and roots music concert organizer Rupert Orton, author and music critic Andy Perry, and Harry Grafton, a bona fide English duke and Orton’s partner in the annual Red Rooster Festival. All three hail from the United Kingdom, as does the original Pimm’s Cup. Yet it was a bartender at the Napoleon House, a New Orleans establishment located approximately one mile north of Herbsaint, who popularized the drink in the American South.

Less than 10 hours later, I was headed back to Memphis. After dinner, I’d listened to — and danced to — one of the most eccentric musical line-ups ever assembled, including Roky Erickson, Archie Bell, Roy Head, the Gories, and Doug Kershaw. But the second night of the Stomp was cancelled, and Mayor Mitch Landrieu had ordered a mandatory curfew for his Crescent City citizens.

I was filled with regret as I drove, lamenting the dozen or more New Orleans watering holes I hadn’t visited: The Parasol Bar, hidden in the Irish Channel. The dimly lit Chart Room, one of the dive-iest places in the French Quarter. The Marigny’s Hi Ho Lounge, Kajun’s Pub, and Siberia, which lie a few hundred feet apart. D.B.A., the Saint, and Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop. A trip to Martin Wine Cellar on Baronne, which has an excellent deli as well as a full-service liquor store.

Fortunately, for everyone who lives in New Orleans and the rest of us who have had the pleasure of drinking there, Hurricane Nate decided to spare the city that care forgot. The Carousel Bar still turns; Sazeracs and Pimm’s Cups are still poured by bartenders who have seen — and heard — it all. I’ll head back soon, because, as Louis so perfectly put it, “I’m wishin’ I was there.”

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

It’s shrub season.

CREDIT: Fedor Kondratenko | Dreamstime

Cocktail shrubs, or homemade drinking vinegars, have been around on these shores since the Colonial era, when, during fall harvest, fruits and berries were preserved in apple cider vinegar for use during the winter months. The practice, which has its roots in 17th-century England, evolved over the next 200 years until recipes looked much as they do today: Pour a bit of cider vinegar over some fruit, herbs, or berries to infuse for several days; strain the fruit and add honey to sweeten; then use the resulting concoction (named as a variation of the Arabic word sharab, which means “to drink”) as a cocktail mixer.

Shrubs flourished during America’s first 150 years, thanks in large part to apple cider vinegar’s reputation as a formidable home remedy, then fell out of favor once refrigeration became de rigueur at the turn of the 20th century.

Today, as part of the still-flourishing farm-to-table movement and spinoff hobbies like home canning, beekeeping, and backyard chicken farming, cocktail shrubs are having a moment.

Locally, I’ve seen them on the menu at Loflin Yard, where pineapple shrub is an integral ingredient in the rum- and cardamom-flavored There’s a Baby Hippo at the Zoo. McEwen’s offers a vodka-based pear and thyme shrub cocktail, while Felicia Suzanne’s will pair bourbon, vodka, gin, rum, or tequila with their rotating menu of house-made fruit shrubs and a splash of club soda.

At home, cocktail shrubs can add an enormous flavor impact on a very low calorie count.

Fedor Kondratenko | Dreamstime

Last time I placed an Amazon order, I added a few bottles of Calvit’s Shrubs, a boutique Minneapolis brand, to my online shopping cart. Online options run the gamut from variety packs to 16-ounce bottles that can be used to flavor non-alcoholic drinks or boozy cocktails. I chose the Beet/Ginger drinking shrubs with Szechuan pepper and the Tomatillo/Tamarind drinking shrubs with hibiscus flowers. Both flavors are made from real fruits and vegetables, packing a lean 35 calories per ounce.

This weekend, I opened both bottles for a taste test. Each looked appealingly healthy in that chic craft farm kind of way; neither tasted great on its own, due to their main ingredient, apple cider vinegar. When I combined an ounce of each with an ounce of vodka, and topped the glass off with club soda, magic happened.

The Beet/Ginger cocktail boasted a deep red color. It tasted tangy, earthy, and peppery — all at once, tingling my nose as it went down. The Tomatillo/Tamarind cocktail was a paler pink. It tasted a little more complex and slightly sour — but not in a bad way. Sipping it, I felt as if I was drinking a robust health tonic rather than a Saturday night cocktail. It was a sensation I appreciated so much that I drank two in a row.

Calvit’s represents just the tip of the iceberg online, where you can also find cocktail shrubs in the following flavors: peach habanero and apple ginger (both from Twisted Shrub, which also hails from Minneapolis); cranberry (from the Michigan-based McClary Bros. brand); and Asian pear (from Californian brand Crafted Cocktails).

You can also make your own cocktail shrubs while spending a minimum amount of time in the kitchen. The simplest recipe calls for two cups of fresh or frozen fruit and two cups of apple cider vinegar. Combine both in a large screw-top jar, shake for 10 seconds, then place in a dark pantry for a week, shaking daily. Strain the liquid through a double-layer of cheesecloth and funnel into a clean jar, adding
1 ½ cups sugar and shaking to combine. Store the jar in the refrigerator for one more week, shaking daily until the sugar has fully dissolved. Experiment with fruits, vegetables, berries, and sweeteners.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Best Drinks for Indian Food

Every September, when most people begin ordering pumpkin spice everything, I go full-tilt for Indian flavors. Crisp, cool mornings make me yearn for butter chicken, coconut stew with garam masala, vegetable curries, and kormas.

Thanks to the intrepid recipe writers at The New York Times, I’ve discovered that Indian cooking is not unlike Creole or Cajun cuisine: start with a trinity of garlic, onion, and peppers, then add protein, vegetables, liquids, and layers of spices.

I know my variations on traditional Indian food are lacking authenticity, but they taste delicious. And regardless of origination, the heady, complex tastes that result in the pot are deserving of thoughtful beer or wine accompaniments.

Beer-wise, my favorite for Indian food is, not surprisingly, a good IPA. India Pale Ale got its name from British brewers who made their product for export to India. So-called “India Ale” made its debut in Madras and Calcutta in 1827; within 15 years, the hoppy, high-gravity beer which was specially formulated to survive the overseas journey, became equally popular on its home turf. I prefer Wiseacre’s Ananda, brewed less than two miles from my front door.

When pairing wine with Indian cuisine, listen to the experts: Everyone from the editors at Food & Wine to the sommeliers at Wine Folly recommends that you counterbalance the spiciness of the food with slightly sweet wine that’s served cold. Rosés go exceptionally well with vindaloos, and the acidity of Reislings perfectly set off the flavors of curries. Just stay away from anything oaky. Many spices that are essential components of Indian food, it turns out, contain tannins. Cloves, tarragon, cumin, and cinnamon all contain the astringent biomolecule, which makes high-tannic wines — especially reds — a poor choice for pairing. Always go crisp and zippy, and avoid dry wines.

Indian flavors also carry over to cocktails. It’s easy to doctor up a homemade lassi, the Punjab region’s frothy, yogurt-based drink. Bon Appetit has a recipe for a frozen rum-mango lassi that’s as simple as making a margarita. Just combine 1 ¼ cup fresh or frozen mango slices, ½ cup of gold rum, ¼ cups each of fresh lemon juice and honey, 2 tablespoons of plain Greek yogurt, a pinch of kosher salt, and ½ teaspoon of ancho chili powder. Pulse in a blender, add 4 cups of ice, and puree until smooth. I frequently make a slight variation, using peaches instead of mango and adding ½ teaspoons each of almond extract, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

Tamarind, a shrub that produces an acidic, pod-like fruit that’s popular in Indian food, makes a great cocktail base. You might have to work a little to locate tamarind juice (I recommend checking the Asian or Mexican aisle of the grocery store, shopping at an international market, or ordering from Amazon), but filling a highball glass with ice, 1 ½ parts each vodka and tamarind juice, and 3 parts lemon-lime soda couldn’t be easier.

Turmeric, ginger’s brilliantly colored and more pungent cousin, is a key ingredient for making curries. It also amps up a drink. On Liquor.com, I found a delicious cocktail called the Lunar Eclipse. The drink takes 24 hours to prepare, because you must infuse vodka with a stick of chopped turmeric overnight. Once you’ve strained the infusion, combine 2 ounces of vodka with 1 ounce carrot juice, ¾ ounces of both honey and lemon juice, and 2 dashes of Angostura bitters. Shake in an ice-filled shaker, strain into a rocks glass over ice, and garnish with a celery stick.

Don’t have time for that? Try a turmeric gin and ginger. Add 4 ounces gin, ½ teaspoon ground turmeric, and the juice of ½ lime to a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake and strain into highball glasses filled with ice, then top with an equal amount of ginger beer. Drink, and repeat.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Doubling Down: Two-ingredient Drinks for Every Occasion

CREDIT: Oleg Magurenco | Dreamstime

I’m 10 days into a three-week kitchen renovation, and boy, do I need a drink!

The dog’s nerves are frayed from all the people coming and going, and my nerves are shot from making sure he doesn’t get out the front door while all the people are coming and going. My throat feels constantly parched from the thick dust that’s hung in the air after demolition. Life is upside down — I can’t find a clean coffee cup, let alone a jigger or my cocktail shaker. And last weekend, my mom came to town for a four-day visit.

We ate all our meals out, enjoying tart gin gimlets at Second Line and pouring our own glasses of “chicken wine” — La Vieille Ferme — straight from the box during a boisterous dinner with friends at Arepas Deliciosas. At the Crosstown Concourse opening, we sipped pinot grigio as we took in the crowds. Then we’d come home, inspect the kitchen progress, and vacuum the living room before sitting down for a few rounds of Rummikub. Inevitably, we’d both want one more glass of something before bed.

Apologies to my mother, but we made do with vodka-tonics, sans even a slice of lime. My fault entirely, but the countertops, kitchen sink, and my knife drawer disappeared a day earlier than I expected. We used our fingers to stir our glasses, mercifully filled with ice from the refrigerator now parked in the middle of my dining room. The dining room table, in case you wondered, is now in the living room, blocking a bookcase. The day she left, the tonic ran out, and I moved on to the exotic bottle of A’ Siciliana, or Limonata di Sicilia, which some blessed soul had left in the fridge. It was an outstanding mixer while it lasted.

Now, I’ve turned to the internet, desperate for easy drinks that require no garnishes, tools, or frills. My go-to, gin and tonic, is out, because I refuse to use bottled lime juice, and I have no idea where my cutting boards are. Because of my mold allergies, I can’t drink wine as often as I’d like. To my astonishment, I’ve found a number of two-ingredient cocktails that fit the bill for a kitchenless house.

Oleg Magurenco | Dreamstime

First, there’s the Paloma, which is made with equal parts tequila and grapefruit-flavored soda. No need to even measure properly — I just eyeballed my glass as I poured in a few fingers of El Jimador over ice, then topped it with an equal-ish amount of Toronja Jarritos, purchased at the corner store.

Continuing the grapefruit theme, I’ve also been enjoying an old standby: the Greyhound, or, as I like to call it, “a Salty Dog without the salt.” Truthfully, this is best drunk in a rocks glass, but my cocktail glasses are in a box somewhere, so I rinsed out my coffee cup and used it instead. All I needed for a Greyhound was ice, a little vodka, and a lot of grapefruit juice. Inspired by a photograph I saw on the lifestyle website MyDomaine, I even added a sprig of rosemary, pulled off a bush in my front yard.

One night last week, I picked up a can of Coca-Cola (a rarity in this house) so I could enjoy a Kalimotxo, a red wine-based drink I’ve mentioned here before. It turns out that the secret to a good Kalimotxo, if you’re in the midst of a disruptive home project, is to use a bottle of screwtop wine, no particular vintage required.

During a trip to Fresh Market to stock up on deli items, I was inspired to buy a few bottles of ginger beer. Afterward, I enjoyed a run of Dark and Stormies, made with Goslings Black Seal rum, which, truthfully, were not as good as they could’ve been since they were missing the fresh lime. Once the ginger beer ran out, I turned to rum and Coke.

Mercifully, the end of this insanity is in sight, and by Labor Day, I hope to be unpacking. Soon, I’ll be able to have fresh lime wedges anytime I want, and I’ll be able to easily put my hands on a highball glass, a shot glass, or any of the bar accoutrements I’ve come to depend on. My first drink will be accompanied by a toast to the workers who demolished and (hopefully!) rebuilt this hodgepodge kitchen space — and my second will be drunk with a promise to never take such luxuries for granted again.

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Eclipse Drink Suggestions From Quintron

During these trying times, it’s tempting to look at next Monday’s solar eclipse — the first to be visible on U.S. mainland in 38 years — as a scary omen: the dragon devouring the sun, as the ancient Chinese imagined.

When the sky darkens and the sun’s corona can be seen shining from all directions around the moon, it’s easy to think of the phenomenon of “totality” as a harbinger of the end of the world. And there’s no one better to talk about doomsday drinking with than New Orleans-based musician and inventor Quintron, who is headed to Nashville, the largest American city in the eclipse’s path, to perform at Third Man Records on Monday at exactly 11:58 a.m. There, Quintron and his weather-controlled drone synthesizer Weather Warlock, which last made a Memphis appearance at Gonerfest 11, will create a special soundtrack for the eclipse at an event billed as “Occulting the Sunn.”

You’ve spent a lot of time in Memphis, mostly performing at the old Hi-Tone on Poplar and the new Hi-Tone on Cleveland. Got a favorite bar to drink in when you’re in town?

I haven’t really done a lot of bar-hopping in Memphis. I drink when I’m on tour, and then I don’t go out to bars when I’m not, because I work in a bar every night.

Quintron

What’s in your cup when you’re onstage?

I never drink before I play, ever. I always start drinking at the eighth song of the night, and I always drink whiskey. Because I play organ, I’m sitting and bouncing around, and beer is too foamy. I drink good American bourbon that’s slightly watered down, on the rocks with maybe a splash of soda water.

From your music to your inventions, which include the Drum Buddy and Weather Warlock, you’re an incredibly creative person. Does drinking help when you have a creative block?

Well, everybody’s different, but I definitely think it does. The main benefit of drinking alcohol during the creative process is that it’s almost like getting a free second opinion, but a second opinion from yourself through the goggles of drunkenness. Drinking can eliminate that certain fear that exists in your thinking, whether you’re writing lyrics or creating new stuff.

Do you have any recommendations for drinking during the solar eclipse?

I think it’s silly for me to recommend what other people drink, honestly. It’s such a personal choice — it’s related to where you are in life and where you are in your head. I’ll probably be drinking something memorable — something aged, maybe wine. I always feel like beer is for fun and barbecues and birthdays, and wine is for those contemplative events that are more time imbued. So, perhaps I’ll be drinking wine or a fancy old bourbon. Wouldn’t it be nice to drink an old Scotch from as many years ago as when the last full solar eclipse in Tennessee was?

Uh, according to Google, the last time that a total solar eclipse was visible from Nashville would’ve been in 1478.

Let’s drink a bourbon from the 1500s!

Any thoughts on other weather-themed cocktails?

All of that stuff seems trite, although actually I’ve always liked a Dark and Stormy. It’s that ginger flavor. I didn’t know of their existence until craft cocktails got popular again and they popped up in New Orleans, where we have weather-themed everything.

Like Hurricanes?

Fuck that shit. Hurricanes are sweet, gross, headachy bullshit. Look, I’m sure some pretentious bartenders are going to invent some ridiculous eclipse-themed cocktails this weekend. If you want to drink during the solar eclipse, go for quality. Splurge, people! This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing!

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Food & Wine Food & Drink

Tomato Sauced: Beyond the Bloody Mary.

CREDIT: Kudryavtsev | Dreamstime

The worst time I embarrassed myself in front of a bartender wasn’t what you’d expect.

I was in New Orleans. It was Ash Wednesday, and over the previous few days, I’d caught more beads than I could count at the Mardi Gras parades that passed down Magazine Street. Before driving back to Memphis, my traveling partner and I stopped into Juan’s Flying Burrito with friends for a round of tacos. I ordered a Bloody Mary to ease the pain of the multiple-day party and asked the bartender if she could make it “light on the vodka.”

The stares that came my way made me feel as if I’d knocked into the DJ at a dance party, and my friend ribbed me the entire way back to Memphis. I didn’t care, though — I was too busy trying to hold my still-aching head below visibility level as he drove, the scenery on I-55 flying past the window.

All that said, I still enjoy a good Bloody Mary — and I drink mine at regular strength these days. But why, I recently wondered, wasn’t I drinking other tomato-based cocktails? So I sized up the summer bounty at Memphis Farmers Market’s newest pop-up market, MFM Squared, which occurs every Wednesday evening in Court Square. I purchased sweet and tart tomato varieties of every shape and size, with tints that ranged from ruddy pink to deep purple.

The choice can be overwhelming, so keep this tip in mind: yellow tomato varieties are usually the sweetest, while green varieties can be the tartest. Pink and red tomatoes are usually well-balanced between the two flavor profiles. Ask farmers for their “ugliest” tomatoes, which may be cracked or misshapen, but still taste delicious.

Kudryavtsev | Dreamstime

Then I headed to the internet, where I found dozens of cocktail recipes.

First, I tried the exotic-sounding Summer in St. Leonard, a vodka-based drink that uses fresh tomato watermelon water as its base. Found on Bon Appetit‘s website, the recipe was simple enough — puree four large tomatoes with approximately two pounds of watermelon and a tablespoon of salt, then strain the pulp through cheesecloth to make a gallon of “water.” Combine three ounces of that concoction with an ounce of vodka, stir with ice, then strain into a coupe glass. The drink was so light and refreshing that I enjoyed several throughout the week as the temperatures soared into the upper 90s.

The Tomato Margarita recipe I discovered at SeriousEats.com utilizes a similar juicing method. To make a post-work margarita, I pulsed an overly-ripe Cherokee Heirloom beefsteak tomato with a cup of tequila, then strained. I skipped making the fennel salt the recipe called for, although it seemed simple enough — I just didn’t want to turn on my stove long enough to toast the fennel seeds. Instead, I used a lime wedge and kosher salt to salt the rim of my tasting glass, then poured three ounces of tomato tequila, two teaspoons of agave nectar, and fresh lime juice into a cocktail shaker and added ice. I shook it, strained it, drank it, and immediately made another one. More savory-tasting than my go-to margarita recipe, this cocktail quickly vaulted to the top of my list.

Another cocktail I really enjoyed drinking and making: The Rickey Tomato, found in the pages of Food & Wine magazine. A differently acidic take on the traditionally lime-based Gin Rickey, this drink appealed to me because there was little prep work to do before (ahem) enjoying the fruits of my labor. All I had to do was muddle three very ripe cherry tomatoes in the bottom of a mixing glass, then add one and one-half ounces gin, three quarters of an ounce of St-Germain, an ounce of Vermouth, and a pinch of sea salt. I shook the ingredients with ice, then strained into a highball glass with fresh ice. I garnished the glass with a cherry tomato and a sprig of cilantro, and drank.

The cocktail tasted like summer in a glass.