Carrot preserve: More delicious than it sounds

The other day our friends Tom and Kathy brought the most beautiful, bright orange jam to our house for dinner. (They also brought a block of heavily salted French butter, but I could probably write a book about how great that was. So I’ll abstain.) They didn’t tell us what it was made out of, and it took a couple of tries before I finally recognized it: Carrots. What evil genius came up with that idea?

The French, that’s who. And because they are French they also add cognac to it. Yes. It is truly spectacular on crusty toast with a heaping smear of butter. Here’s the recipe, courtesy of Kathy, who got it from some unidentified jam-making lady on the teevee.

Carrot Preserve

1 pound carrots, sliced
2 cups sugar
Juice of 2 lemons
Zest of 1 lemon
10 almonds, chopped
2 tablespoons cognac

Boil carrots until tender; drain. Run through a food mill or blender to puree. Return to saucepan and add sugar, zest and lemon juice. Cook until sugar is dissolved. Add almonds and cognac. Cool. Yields approximately 20 ounces.

The magical 1940s drink finder: Week 2

Week 2, no. 37: The Gibson.

I am a regular consumer of Gibsons. My favorite in Boise is at the venerable Gamekeeper Lounge, which makes an extremely dry (you don’t even have to ask) Beefeater Gibson with three onions (again, no asking). How does the 1940s version compare to the Gamekeeper version?

It’s for drunks! That’s how it compares.

The recipe calls for four jiggers of gin and one jigger of vermouth. For one serving. Yeah. So either one jigger did not equal one shot back then or these people were hammered all the time. I mean, I’m not going to judge. There was a war going on, or a post-war period going on. Either way, it seems like you would need regular lubricant to keep the gears going, you know?

So was vermouth better in the 1940s? Because I’m a fan of it, don’t get me wrong, but a jigger is a lot. I don’t believe in this “whisper of vermouth” tactic that has taken hold for gin drinks since the 1990s. What’s the point? Either add vermouth or don’t. Don’t be a wuss. That said, a full jigger is a commitment. You have to like your vermouth to make that happen. I would suggest the very excellent (there’s a reason it’s the standard) Martini & Rossi dry vermouth. Consistently delicious.

And since we’re talking about consistent, we can’t forget the garnish. There is nothing worse in cocktail world than a cocktail onion without crunch. There’s a local bar that pickles their own onions. How do I know they do that? Because they taste awful and are limp. Don’t be that gal. Top your Gibson off with a crunchy, pungent onion that would make Roger Sterling proud. I like two brands: Mezetta, which makes really tasty and inexpensive cocktail onions, and Sable and Rosenfeld’s Vermouth Tipsy Onions. The latter is more sweet than the former, so pick whichever you prefer.

You can’t go wrong with a Gibson. Unless you drink all five jiggers of alcohol in one sitting. That’s just crazy talk. Or a challenge, take your pick.

The magical 1940s drink finder

Our friends Brian and Kathleen have long been in the business of keeping us shnockered. They persuaded us to register for crystal Hefeweizen glasses. Their wedding present to us was a beautiful cabinet bar. This year, on our anniversary, they gave us this 1940s bartender’s friend.

You can clearly see that it is awesome. Each drink is numbered; you just dial up what you want. The recipes, being about 65 years old, are a little different. They say that you can date a martini recipe by its ingredients; this one still calls for a fairly hefty amount of vermouth. And what’s a Mamie Taylor? You ever had one? Me, neither.

Since I’m in the public service business, I’ve decided to feature a drink a week from this handy guide. I’ll include a little history of each cocktail and tell you whether it’s worth your time and effort. And the recipe, of course. I know, I know. You can thank me later.

First up: The Earthquake.

1/3 whiskey

1/3 gin

1/3 Pernod

Shake well with ice and strain into glass.

History: The first drink to go by the name “earthquake” was created by the painter Toulouse-Lautrec (at least that’s what Wikipedia tells me). It was a mix of absinthe and cognac. The more modern cocktail is the one listed above.

Review: Quite possibly the worst drink I’ve ever had. Even worse than that one time I was in Rhode Island and ordered an Old Fashioned and the bartender got mad because he couldn’t find bitters and took it out on me by making the drink half bitters when he finally did locate them. I don’t know what it’s like to go blind from alcohol, but I’m pretty sure that it tastes like this. Looks like Mountain Dew, takes like death.

OK! More next on this topic next week!

I’m drinking the Kate Spade Kool-Aid

I’m sure the Kate Spade Kool-Aid, if it existed, would probably manage to be tri-colored, like neopolitan ice cream in a glass. I’m sure it would also taste of a perfect Pimm’s Cup and sparkles and happiness. Because Kate Spade is all about being vibrant and excited and fun, and I am so falling for all of that right now.

The ad for the company’s new perfume, Twirl, stopped me in my tracks the other day. (That’s it up there.) Maybe it’s because I had just read a great interview with the model who posed as the face of Charlie in the 1970s and 1980s and it reminded me of the same spirit: having fun, being in control, being a woman. What Kate Spade is selling is very American, and it’s certainly refreshing to think about bright colors and being girly and on top of things after two years of negativity and doubt. The brand somehow manages to be preppy without being stuffy and referential without being nostalgic. Every product is practical while also maintaining whimsy, which is a tall order indeed.

There are a lot of things that are going on the birthday and Christmas wish lists this year. Take note, family.