What I Ate For Dinner

Making cocktails is like cooking with liquor. Except the recipe is (classically) always the same: something sweet, something sour, something strong, and a cute garnish. That's basically it. And yet, at-home bartending used to seem like a high-risk, high-reward venture to me. Unlike the $4 whole fryer chicken, alcohol can set you back. And as much as I try to deny aphorisms, it seems like you get what you pay for with the potables even more so than with the edibles (debatable, but . . .). Sometimes you luck out and are initiated into the inner circle of a tasty Reposado's intimate cadre. Other times, you're left with a $25 bottle of barely sampled Rumplemintz for which you wonder what you can get on Craigslist. So I used to try all my new boozes exclusively at bars. If I were curious about something, I'd leave the pros with the bottle and decide for myself over a more modest sampler-size rocks glass. Then I realized that's stupid. For what you pay for two cocktails (and sometimes shots), you could well nigh take home a whole fifth (or more!) from Safeway. So now I roll the dice in the "Liquor Isle" pining for untasted ecstasies at the bottom of whatever bottle's on sale. Salut!

I must say that for most traditional cocktails, one ought not jigger with a good thing. Classic cocktails are classic for a reason. And yet, for me, there are moments when it seems something might be a bit more to my taste than the dogma of the old school. We shall encounter such moments with the Manhattan and Caipirinha tonight. With apologies to purists, I am not sentimental about these drinks--how could I be? I'd never had either of them a month ago. Instead of an apology for what may be deemed heresy, however, allow me a mere explanation of my methods.

Manhattans are easy. They require only cheap ingredients, and none of them (save the garnish) need be fresh, so they're easy to have at the ready. Traditionally stirred, I shake'em. Mostly because I usually make them two at a time, and it's easier to shake two at once than to stir them. And because I don't yet have one of those long curly spoons made for stirrin'. Oh well.

Drop three ice cubes in the shaker. The ice both chills and dilutes this assertive sip. Add one to one-and-a-half shot(s) of rye, half as much sweet vermouth (half-ish shot), and one dash of Angostura bitters. That's for one drink. Shake it up and pour into a Martini glass. As for garnish, I go with fresh blackberries. I simply despise the traditional maraschino cherry, although this makes me a blasphemous bartender in the eyes of some.

A Caipirinha is easy, too, but you'll need Cachaça (a Brazilian rum-style liquor). Traditionally, you muddle lime slices, add simple syrup and Cachaça, then shake and pour into a rocks glass over ice. I've tried it that way. Maybe I goofed it, but I could not abide the pulp and mangled limes. So I do it almost like a martini or margarita, which may mean I've 'naturalized' this south side fave'. Anyway, I start by adding a dab of simple syrup (or agave nectar, which is what I usually have on hand) to the bottom of a martini glass. Roll in with the juice of one half lime that you've passed through a strainer to remove pulp. Then add a shot to a shot-and-a-half of the Cachaça. Stir, and garnish with a twist of the lime peel. I add an ice cube since this one's best cold.

Cocktails are a wonderful addition to any meal, although too often forgotten in the bustle of food preparation. Tonight, we focus only on our potent pals, and point out a few tips and tricks for garnishes that dress the drinks up. For our first installment of "What I Drank After Dinner," we'll limit ourselves to piña cola, grapefruit margarita and what I'm calling the "Mid-Missouri Rambler." More to follow . . .

First, the garnishes. A semi-frozen lemon twist can add color, texture and interest to any drink involving lemon juice. Simply shave off a section of lemon rind with a channel knife from the circumference of a halved lemon, twist, scrunch and freeze. You really only need to freeze these for about 20 minutes; as such, their natural oils will remain vivacious and available to season your drink while the juice will coagulate to maintain the structure of the twist.

Second, the coconut salt. Add salt to shaved coconut and allow the mixture to mellow overnight (or at least a few hours). This will give you a dry, salty garnish with body and a hint of sweetness to all sorts of drinks. This mixture modifies the full-on saltiness of the typical margarita rim, without resorting to the sugary coating of some piña coladas.

For the piña colada: Start with chopped and shaved, fresh pineapple and a few ice cubes in a blender. Add Malibu and Bacardi, then blend. There are also coconut-flavored pastes available in the grocery store, as well as fresh coconut, with which to contend. I find that turning fresh coconut into workable coconut milk is more work than reward, and that the pastes don't really surpass the Malibu. Hence, the above ingredient lineup. Blend until smooth but still with texture, and serve in a snifter with coconut salt rim and a sprig of pineapple leaf for garnish.

For the grapefruit margarita, start by garnishing the rim of a martini glass with coconut salt and freezing. Then drizzle a thimble-full of Agave nectar in the bottom. Add three parts grapefruit juice to one part lemon juice, then tequila. For effervescence, add seltzer water (sans high fructose syrup), and serve.

For the Mid-Missouri Rambler, start with chilled hibiscus tea in a coconut salt-rimmed tumbler. Add rum and grapefruit and/or lemon juice. This is a great summer drink, so add seltzer water for a fizzy boost. Serve chilled.