During the day, you’re a minivan-driving, soccer game-refereeing, steak pre-cutting, hair-detangling, Wiggles-listening, Wubzy-watching, spit-up-wearing, school lunch-preparing, diaper genie-cursing, mac-and-cheese-making shell of your former self. After the kids go to bed, though, when it’s time to relax on the couch with a box of Mallomars, and watch some 30 Rock on DVR…who are you, exactly? Sometimes it’s hard to remember. Herewith, a brief attempt to parse it out, based on your chosen mode of self-medication.

Can of inexpensive, retro-y beer (such as PBR, Schaefer, Bud, etc.)
How to make it: Hit up any 7-11 outside of the wealthy enclaves of the Northeast, and hand over four bucks for six col’beers. Or go to any bar on the Lower East Side of Manhattan where facial hair and APC jeans are in abundance.
What it says about you (unironic version): I can pound this s@!t fer days, son!
What it says about you (ironic version): Yes, actually, I am the bassist in LCD Soundsystem.
Crunk Factor: Low and slow.

Gin and Tonic
How to make it: 1 part gin, 2 parts tonic water (if you feel like splurging, this stuff — which you can find at Whole Foods — is real good). Garnish with a wedge of lime (no lemon!). Serve in tall glass, over plenty of ice.
What it says about you: I am civilized. Also somewhat risk averse, politically moderate, and did I tell you I went to college in New Haven?
Crunk factor: Moderate to high.

The Vodka Soda
How to make it: 2 oz vodka, topped with soda water. Garnish with wedge of lime. Serve in tall glass over ice.
What it says about you: Whoa, check this out: I think I’ve found a way to get drunk without really having to taste the alcohol.
Crunk factor: Sneaky high. (more…)

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Now that the swampy, soupy weather has officially arrived, it’s time to share a few heartfelt words about something near and dear to our hearts: the evening drink. When we got married, someone gave us one of those full-on Pottery Barn cocktail kits, the ones that come with the ten-gallon martini glasses and silver-plated shaker, stirrer, strainer, tongs, and beveled serving tray. Twelve years later, it’s still in the box. In the basement. Under piles of baby clothes and bank receipts we have yet to shred. That’s not because we don’t drink; with a 6-year-old and a 8-year-old underfoot, there’s nothing—and this is going to sound bad, but really: nuh-thing—we enjoy more than a taste of medicine at the end of a long day. The truth is, we’ve never busted it out because we’re not fans of the fussy drink. We don’t believe in cocktail hardware, and we don’t believe that having people over for dinner should include said people being forced to sit in your kitchen for twenty minutes, watching you craft a cocktail from fresh-squeezed kaffir limes, muddled mint leaves, and turbinado sugar. As you probably know from reading this blog, we tend to follow a pretty straight-up philosophy on food, a philosophy that also happens to apply cocktails: few ingredients, good ingredients, simple preparation.

Which brings us to the Dark and Stormy.

Having not grown up with a yacht, a family compound on the Vineyard, or a Roman numeral after my name, I had no idea this drink even existed for the first thirty-three years of my life. And can I tell you how I now mourn for those years? The Dark and Stormy is everything a cocktail should be: damned tasty, of course, but also fizzy, cold, summery, citrusy, and very, very easy to make. (more…)

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