Ye Shall Know the "Troot"

It's been kind of a funny weekend of human observation.

In desperation for extra cash, I was prompted to contact the Census Bureau to see if they need my help with field work in the neighborhood. While I do not relish the idea of going door to door and harassing negligent residents to fill out the form, I'd be fine with any clerical or phone work they'd need me to do. But in order to get work, I first had to take a half hour standardized test, basically to see whether I possess basic common sense, along with some math and organizational skills.

I did this Saturday afternoon right here at the Carroll Gardens library. I was seated at a table with five random, cash-starved people, and there was lots of down time between filling out forms, taking the test and waiting for it to be scored. Next to me was that guy who tells everyone what they're doing wrong and how to get it right, and in front of me was that woman who hums to herself and can't to anything without commenting out loud, such as writing down her address. It's perfect they found each other because she doesn't listen to directions and he loves giving them.

So by the time we were all waiting for our scores, he pushes a pamphlet for his Christian Scientist (a term I never understood, considering they categorically don't believe in most things scientific) church to her and they have a loud conversation about sinning and finding the "troot" (his repeated, heavily Brooklyn-accented pronunciation) within yourself. With all this Godtastic talk, I am in hell. While playing with my iPhone in attempts to ignore them, I look up and meet eyes with two others at the table, who smile nervously. Finally one kind man interrupts and wants to discuss the test questions, some of which were admittedly weird. Like, which of these words is synonymous with "controversial?" He managed to distract them till I could pick up my test and leave. If I ever see him again, I am so buying him a cocktail!

Speaking of, the rest of the weekend was very boozy and fun! Saturday night met up with Phil (you might know him from previous posts such as Bottles and Bruce) and a bunch of our neighborhood friends and my ex-Morrell peeps at the Waterfront Ale House on Atlantic. After that crazy afternoon, felt great to ease into that scene and catch up with old pals. It's always funny to get this crowd together, because we all geek out in our own ways. Phil likes to tell us which beer on draught is "showing well" while Tom and Brett discuss the wines they've tasted lately and what they ate with them. I miss working with those guys, even if not the job itself.

Sunday was the Dizzy Fizz Pre-Tales Blogger Brunch at Rye House. A gathering of Twitter peeps, booze bloggers and local mixologists hosted by Herbsaint and Tales of the Cocktail to get us in the mood for promoting the big July event in New Orleans, that is, for those of us going, ahem. Above is an Herbsaint drip in the proper glasswear. Cubes and water melt slowly into the spirit below. We got to keep the glasses!

This is the spirit in a very delicious Herbsaint Fizz. Kind of like taking a Shamrock shake to greater heights!

Was hoping to hang in a corner with Rob and a couple of our mutual friends, but Selena Ricks, who helped organize the event had us in assigned seats, which ended up being very fun. Sat with a few people I already knew, and it encouraged me to mingle with those I didn't. Unlike throwing together random, cash-hungry would-be public servants, it had to be OK if we all like to write about booze, right? Well, if anyone there was looking for the "troot" within them, they kept it to themselves.

We're Just Plain Smart

Well, kids. I have good news and bad news. The good news is Rob and I were starting to really rock on the cocktails! The bad news is, we came to a mutual decision not to take the live Bar Smarts exam next week in DC. The main reason is, we did all the work for the Wired program, we completed the Modules, we passed all the online quizzes, we know the spirits, we get the paradigms for the different types of cocktails (stirred whisky-based ones, sours, martinis, collins, fizzes, etc), but taking three whole days to drive to and from DC and pay for a hotel room and gas for a one-day exam suddenly seemed like an unnecessary expense in both time and money. At the end of the test, whether or not we passed really wouldn't matter that much in the long run. Neither of us plan on becoming mixologists on a professional level, we just wanted to learn. And that we did. As far as I'm concerned, mission accomplished!

Please don't be disappointed. We didn't give up. We are just being practical. Now that we have the basic skills, the real fun begins. One of the reasons Rob and I became such good friends is we both love to taste and learn about new spirits (and in my case, also wine). That will always be in motion. Plus, nothing like experience to really hone a new skill.

Besides, my friend is suddenly VERY busy. I'm very proud to report that Rob's bar, Idle Hands, is finally in possession and remodel work is under way!  Rob will be opening the underground Rock and Roll Speakeasy-type space (the joke is that the 'Speak Loudly,' Billy Hurricanes will be upstairs) on Ave. B with pals Marc Shapiro and Dave Cianco. Hoping to welcome the pubic by Memorial Day weekend, the boys have their work cut out for them. Having gandered at the space, I can tell you, amid all the highfalutin booze joints of late, with the limited space and the rules and the waiting, they're here to make drinking fun again. Can't wait, fellas!

Disassembly Required

Tuesday: Back to Rob's for more Bar Smarts practice. It's noon. I'm thinking maybe we should watch the DVD's that come with our kit before we embark on more mixology. I know there just HAS to be a better way to disengage that shaker. Seen plenty of skinny hipster bartenders get them open with little effort. It can't be for lack of upper body strength on my part. 

Module 3 is lead by Master Mixologist Dale DeGroff, cocktail historian Dave Wondrich and the previously mentioned Winegeek founder, cocktailian Andy Seymour. They take us through all twenty-five classic cocktails that we have to know backwards and forwards, the proper techniques, barwear, etc. And FINALLY, where to hit the bloody shaker so it separates and people can drink! Heel of the hand smack below the rim of the metal part, et...voi-effen-la!

Turns out banging it incessantly on the counter is about as productive and satisfying as doing so with one's head against a wall. Separates nine out of ten times. That one time outta ten's a nasty bitch, but it eventually goes.

A quick trip up to Kalustyans for some bitters and a stop for fresh citrus and we're off! Kris came home from work just in time for a fresh mojito, and soon Marc and Jay joined us to watch the Yankee/Red Sox game as Rob and I tried to keep up with this small, but thirsty crowd. A couple more new drinks were tried out such as a Gin Fizz (not to be confused with the Ramos version with egg whites, this is more a gin sour), Sidecars, Mai Tais (now that we have the key orgeat syrup ingredient), Sazeracs (the rye version), more whiskey sours (a version with, another without egg whites), Bourbon Collins (iced tea-like and refreshing) and Old Fashioneds. Jay requested a Bourbon Mojito, which ended up being a GREAT idea. Think Mint Julep with more citrus. Then my piece de resistance, a Pisco Sour, shaken with egg whites, swirled with bitters. Now I know all you experienced mixologists aren't too impressed, but considering how little I knew at the beginning of the day, I'm pretty proud of my accomplishment. And it tasted mighty fine.

Shake Some Action

When we last left our intrepid mixologists, things were looking pretty messy. Hopeful, but messy.

But I'm happy to report that we're hitting a groove. A reason I haven't posted in a while is we had to take a brief hiatus while my mixology partner, Rob, took a job in L.A. for a couple of weeks and I spent that time trying to figure out the general stuff of life and come up with a game plan. But more on that later.

After both of us passed our first Module of Bar Smarts (see previous post), which was essentially a history of distillation, we made our bar purchases and really set to work.

The first day was last Friday. Thumbing through our spiral-bound bible, we settled on four cocktails. (Don't worry, much of this was sacrificed to either our brave "assistant," Rob's wife Kris, or sadly, the kitchen sink): Negronis (mine shaken with ice, served up, his stirred with ice), caipirinhas (both too sugary for my tastes, and we needed better limes), Blood and Sand (which is blended scotch, in this case, Chivas Regal 12, orange juice, sweet vermouth and cherry heering. And as gross as it sounds unless it's made with bourbon. THEN you have a drink!) and finally, a true whiskey sour with fresh lemon juice. Makes all the difference.

By now we are much more sure-footed with the mixing and the shaking. Massive accomplishment when the ingredients actually land IN the mixing glass... But, and those of you who know me will find it hard to believe, I just couldn't "break the seal." That Boston Shaker just wasn't coming apart for me once I was ready to pour out my drink. Rob had figured out a method with very precise hand placement and a lot of pulling, but that wasn't working for me at all. I gave my shaker a solid dent banging it in frustration against the counter to break the vacuum, but that didn't work either.

I was starting to get panicked flash forwards of making a caipirinha for someone like Andy Seymour during the test and failing because my shaker stayed closed shut like a bad steamed mussel. I clearly needed practice. But I also suspected there was a trick to it. I'm thinking we need to watch the DVD's. Either that, or take up body building.

That Was Then, This Is So

Yes, it's been over a month since my last confession. These dreary winter days, some setbacks in my personal life and overall lack of career stimulation have given me a functioning case of the blahs. Or what someone I recently met at a party referred to as "confident apathy."

At least the weather finally stepped up and snowed on New York City in earnest. Weather reports all winter promised our "Snowmageddon" or "Snowpocalypse" and then we only got a slushy dusting. This time, seventeen inches in Central Park, baby! That's what the lady said.

But two bits of good news are beginning to emerge from this indifferent haze. My friend Rob and I, on a whim, then a full on dare, decided to dive head on into the Bar Smarts mixology program. It's an intensive, industry invite only, course created by a team of respected cocktailians (Pacult, Seymour, Olson, Degroff, Wondrich and Frost) to teach  expert drink making as well as thorough knowledge of base spirits and overall bar tending savvy. We have to completely memorize 25 classic cocktails and figure out how to adapt them, be expected to pick random spirits out of a blind lineup and look really comfortable making this happen. Consists of at home discipline with four online quizzes, then a big sit down and hands on exam in DC end of April.

Sounds easy, but there is much to do and learn. While my spirits knowledge is pretty high, I am no mixologist by any stretch. I have never used a Boston shaker. I have never muddled anything besides my own thoughts (or at times, perhaps the thoughts of others). Until the other day I had never even made my favorite cocktail for myself, a Manhattan. What is considered one of the easiest stirred drinks to execute.

Oh, the comedy. I described this first pass as me channeling both Inspector Clouseau and my mother (who in the 1960s famously poured an entire bowl of salad dressing into a drawer while distracted in conversation with a dinner guest). This should be easy: 2 oz. bourbon or rye (used Sazerac, which gives it a spicy edge), 1 oz. sweet vermouth, 4 dashes bitters. Stir with ice, strain, serve in chilled glass. Well, I somehow missed the mixing glass with the jigger and managed to toss a lot of rye alongside it. Had to guesstimate how much needed to be compensated to equal the right measurement. Then my "dashing" technique was called into question by Rob, who said I was "dropping, not dashing." All in the wrist, I suppose. Well HE knew what to do. I'm just sayin'. Got everything in there and stirred. Poured the ice out of the waiting glasses. Held the strainer over the mixing glass, tipped over the glass and voila! Manhattan all over counter. (Years ago I made an apple "Floor Pie." This is "Counter Manhattan." Or perhaps a "Staten Island?") We at least had enough left to sip. Rob made the twist. As though whittling bark from an oak tree.

But hey, they tasted good.

We'll get better.

I hope.

Oh, and I found a way to get to Scotland in May! There have been some wee drams there with my name on them for a long time now. I so deserve this.

Confident apathy morphing into nervous excitement. Um, yay. I mean, yay!

EASE PACE

Don't look now, but your EASE PACE is showing!

I saw this sign just now as I was walking down Broadway after a fantastic lunch at Artisanal with my dear friend Lisa. It's in the former Unique Boutique space, or The Wiz if you need a 1990s reference, been pretty much empty since then. For so long, in fact, that it's papered and re-papered so that only those letters of what I assume were a "LEASE SPACE" sign show.

An unintentional, slightly subliminal message. "Slow down," it says to me. "Stop forcing things." I have a bad tendency that I think I inherited from my father. No matter how much I try not to, I basically want to control the universe. I want to rush into space and grab planets and spin them out of axis so things come my way when I want them. "Not cool," the universe says back to me. "You wait your turn like everyone else. Now stop futzing and drink your cocktail. There's a good girl."

I've been impatient this month. And therefore not very productive. The job front is dead at the moment and not writing and pitching as much as I set out to do that first hangover-free January 2nd morning. Wish I had better news. Been a little tired of getting together with people and hanging my head when they ask that inevitable question. Come on, guys. It's a running gag now. I'm your lady of leisure. "What did you do today?" They ask. Trust me, today, this Friday in January, is remarkably not unlike it was exactly this time last year, minus the uterus, maybe.

I also got a fortune cookie this week that said, "Don't worry about losing. If it's right, it happens." Oh Fortune Cookie Factory Worker, how you know me so well!

OK, Inner Pilot, time to lift up again. Maybe I can't control the universe, but I can figure out how to navigate around all those clouds.

Decadence

Ladies and gentlemen, my parents, Carlotta and Dave. The photo was taken on New Year's Eve, 1970. Which means my mom is three month's pregnant with me and clearly having what they call a "European Pregnancy." Yes, it does look like she's wearing curlers, but alas, that is the mod chandelier they used to have in the background. This might be my favorite picture of them ever.

I'm really not that much of a Sum Up kinda gal. Here we are at the end of a decade again. And everyone is making their useless pop culture Top 10 lists. Top 10 Albums, Top 10 Movies, Top 10 News Events (which now morphs into reality stardom when at the start of the 2000s it was still actual news, remember our collective naivte?), Top 10 Movies, Top 10 Reasons to Make a Top 10 List...

Of course, a lot happened in the world around me that had a big impact. But I'm sharing my personal history here.

The dawn of the millennium was the twilight of my marriage. The fall of the Towers also coincided with the death of a beloved grandmother, only a year after the first one died. The ownership of an apartment was the money pit of despair. The season of hope and change brought unemployment and emotionally complicated health problems.

But there is the good stuff. I found Bruce Lee Kitty the very same day my husband and I began to call it quits. I got dumped the same night I met the person who became my best friend (OK, he also dumped me once, but the kids are alright now). I learned new skills with even better ones to follow (I can only hope that with rejection comes reward with perseverance). Those health problems are going to be the subject of a damn good article, maybe even a book someday.

So sure, after the year 2000, Radiohead's Kid A still holds up while All That You Can't Leave Behind by U2 left the joke in the title. But what I really learned the past ten years is:

1) stop with the drama
2) start with the fun
3) learn from mistakes while leaving past behind
4) when it's cold, wear a hat
5) listen to the signs telling me I need a break
6) never stop learning
7) prevail
8) no hair product truly seals out humidity
9) that last drink is probably a bad idea
10) (but not least) my friends are awesome