Summer. Punch. That is All.
So. Summer is here, more or less, and that means that you need to break out the punches. Not that dreadful stuff made with Sprite and sherbet and the worst possible vodka, but a nicely-made, Victorian-style punch, served in that punchbowl you never get to use, or a repurposed pickle jar, or whatever other sort of urn you happen to have around. If you don’t have the matching glasses that once came with your punchbowl, teacups make a weird and elegant substitute, as do Mason jars. I have been in Portland for a couple months for a writer-in-residency sort of affair with Portland State...
Read MoreHerbs. Now.
Buying herbs at the grocery store is a sign of defeat. Not defeat, even, because defeat would suggest that you tried and failed. It’s more like inertia. Because really, if you can’t grow a few herbs, you have just given up on having any kind of interaction with the plant kingdom or the parcel of soil around your home. This is the year to change that, and the reason to make that change is because there are so many very nice cocktails that just require a pinch of some herb or another. A cocktail should be an impulsive decision, one that doesn’t require a trip to the grocery store. If...
Read MoreA Summer Drink in February. Because I Refuse to Wait.
Frozen berries. Mint. Lime. Rum. Not exactly a February drink. And yet I could not resist. I told my cousin Helen that I’d make a special drink for her birthday when I was in Texas last week. But as it happened, she couldn’t make the drive from Austin to Dallas, which is understandable, what with her having a job and responsibilities and all. So Helen, this is the drink I didn’t make for your birthday. I should have just gone ahead and made the drink for the rest of the family, but time was short and I just didn’t get around to the liquor store and the...
Read MorePut It in a Mason Jar.
“I hear you’ve got mojitos in there,” a friend said, looking down at my tote bag. We were in Blue Lake waiting in line for Mary Jane: The Musical. “Shhhh. Don’t say that so loud, or everybody will want one.” I had more than mojitos in my bag. I had three mason jars filled with the most exquisite combinations of summer fruit and booze imaginable. I figured I had enough for the six of us, plus a few hangers-on, but the last thing I wanted to do was to run out of drinks before intermission. Once we got settled on the lawn, I started to wish I had brought enough for the entire...
Read MoreBooks by Amy Stewart
The Drunken Botanist
Recent Comments