Apple & Cinnamon Bourbon Hot Toddy

It’s raining outside. Remember all of those complaints about how it was November and I still had a sweat-stache? Well, now those complaints are replaced with the fact that my lawn has turned into a bog, and how much my golden retriever is into mud. She’s like really really into it. This isn’t great for me. It’s also not great for her once she realizes that she’s going to be met with the cold side of a hose before she’s allowed to gallop her fancy-ass inside.

This rain also means it’s gosh-darn cozy. As a first in our little family, we purchased and mounted an entire evergreen tree in our living room before the first of December. We strung lights as the rain thwacked at the windows. We reminisced about all of the ornaments we put onto the tree. We paused when we realized how many ornaments we have are cat themed. Also, how many framed photograph ornaments of ones dog is too many? I made soup out of the leftover thanksgiving turkey and the broth that I made from the bones in my new pressure cooker. We ate pie recklessly by the fire, like a couple of Bears seeking calories before hibernation. Christmas carols happened. Then, I bought a poinsettia. Then a garland. We hung an advent calendar. I’m thinking about stringing lights in our archways. Let’s just say it all escalated quickly. And, in a fit of holiday cheer and  couch snuggling… between viewings of The Holiday and In Bruges we drank these hot toddies. We kept repeating the phrase “Toddy with a hot-body” and chuckling a lot. I don’t even know. It felt right. […]

Cinnamon Maple Bourbon Sour | A Holiday Cocktail

Note: This post was written under the influence of a Cinnamon Maple Bourbon Sour. Although delicious, they may influence you to write an open and loving dialogue directly to Bourbon itself. I just thought you should know. I apologize if you feel awkward. I know I do. Carry on…

Hello, Bourbon.

Funny to run into you here. We just keep on meeting like this, don’t we? I’m into it.  I’d much rather run into you than say, Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I ran into that dude a lot in college. He was a real headache. So, what I’m trying to say is… It’s nice to see you.

It’s no secret you’re one of my favorites. I’ve infused you with apples and you helped me celebrate my birthday. I’ve poured you over muddled raspberries in the summertime. I’ve mixed you with champagne in times of celebration. We’ve been through a lot together. I sometimes just keep it simple and sip you straight up. After all, you’re just as pretty without all that makeup (I hear flattery gets you everywhere–is it working?). […]

The Heatwave | A Whiskey Cocktail

You guys!
It’s Tuesday and it’s totally almost a long four day weekend! It’s almost Fourth of July, people. Or in grown-up world “America is cool, but it’s even cooler that I can BBQ these ribs in my underwear while enjoying the sweet freedom of a whiskey cocktail on a Thursday” Day. God Bless America.
Pete and I have been gearing up by trying to find the perfect summery cocktail combo. It’s hard work, but someone has to do it.  Let us do that heavy lifting for you. We’ve come up with something pretty great. Muddled raspberries mixed with lime, ginger beer and whiskey. Summery magic? Yes indeed.
We sat around sipping guzzling our creation trying to come up with a name. Since we were both sweating semi-profusely, draping our bodies carefully in juxtaposition to an AC vent,we decided to call it The Heatwave. It’s hot. I know, I’ve mentioned this. But, really. Complain, complain. We need cocktails. […]

The Whiskey Sour | How To Combat Awkward

Hey, Friends! Let me introduce you to the peanut butter to my jelly, the spaghetti to my meatball, the polar bear to my top hat! This is Peter. He is my husband. He usually sits idly by eating my recipes and humoring me by laughing at my jokes. Today he wants to talk to you about booze. Take it away, Pete…

I didn’t grow up drinking hard alcohol. To be clear, I also didn’t grow up (from childhood) drinking. I’d probably be surlier and have more scars. When I started drinking, it was generally beer that went down my gullet, probably due to the Dutch blood pumping through my veins.

It wasn’t until I met my wife’s parents for the first time that I really acquired a taste for something more refined. Sure I’d downed some watered-down vodka tonics and dabbled with gin in college. I even insulted an old, Danish family-friend by suggesting his 30-year old Scotch tasted like rum (I was all of seventeen at the time). In essence, my alcoholic reference shelf was stocked with beer until my mid-twenties.

Gina first introduced me to her parents far before any standard of social norm or traditional scheduling. We’re talking about three to four weeks after our first date. And this wasn’t a matter of “hey, my parents are in town would you like to come to dinner?” Rather, this was “hey, I’m 400 miles from home and I’m sitting awkwardly across from your imposing, Italian father in their beautiful home.” […]