Beer Mimosa

Maybe I'm too lazy, or maybe I'm too busy, but whatever the reason, I simply haven't jumped on the beer cocktail bandwagon yet. Leah's definitely had her hands full with incoming produce from our awesome farmer: scapes, black caps, and soon, plums.

Those black cap (black raspberry) cocktails are CRACK. We've gotten a lot of people completely addicted to them, and now they want, want, want and we sell, sell, sell. Stop by the Lounge this week for a fix.

But back to beer. Typically, I'm a purist. I like my gin on the rocks with no mixer, my wine in a glass with no spritzer, and my whiskey swigged straight out of the bottle. Beer is no exception. So when Frederic at Cocktail Virgin (Slut) announced that this month's Mixology Monday theme is beer cocktails, I knew I had some work to do.

Or not. Because the day before I read Frederic's post, I actually made a beer cocktail. It wasn't on purpose. I was just too lazy, I mean, busy, to go out and buy champagne when I had a craving for a mimosa. I opened the fridge, and next to the orange juice was a can of PBR, beckoning me to take a risk.

Ice cold PBR and orange juice. Weird, or genius? It worked for me. The recipe is complicated. so pay attention:

PBR Mimosa, aka The Lazy Girl

PBR

orange juice

champagne flute

Open the can of PBR. Take a swig from the can. Fill your champagne flute halfway with PBR. Chug some more beer from the can. Add orange juice to the PBR in a champagne flute, take a sip, and proclaim loudly, "This is the shit! It tastes just like a mimosa. Who needs champagne?"

Wood Pairing

Dear Felicia,

I know spring is filled with all kinds of great stuff like planting herbs and watching flowers bloom, but I just got a shit-ton of firewood delivered (shit-ton [shit tuhn] - noun 1: five cords; 2: 4ft by 8 ft by 20 ft pile of wood). I'd like to know what alcohol you recommend pairing with this task.

Signed,

I Want to be Stacked

Dear Stacked,

You are definitely going to want a drink for this job. Think wood. A high-end bourbon, a smoky scotch, a nicely-oaked chardonnay, or a tannic cabernet saugivnon. Or go rugged and do a couple of shots of Jim Beam; that's one of my work boot favorites. Beer also pairs well with wood. There are some great scotch ales on the market, like Oksar Blues Old Chub. If it's raining, consider a boilermaker.

You're going to need all the help you can get.

Love,

Felicia

Berry Chocolate Beer

Beer cocktails are on the to-do list. We love beer. We love cocktails. We shall love beer cocktails.

Last year on Valentine's Day, one of our bartenders mixed Young's Double Chocolate Stout with Raspberry Lambic and big bang kapowey. A star was born.

When you care enough to drink the very best.

Berry Chocolate Beer

1/2 Young's Double Chocolate Stout
1/2 Lindemans Framboise Lambic

Serve in a pilsner glass.

Open thread: What are you drinking on Valentine's Day this year?

Mixology Monday: Anti-Vermouth

This month's Mixology Monday, hosted by Cocktailians, challenges us to post a tasty vermouth cocktail recipe. Vidiot says we can use any aromatic, fortified wine. So being the rebel she is, Leah created a cocktail, um, without vermouth.

Since Leah is in the midst of a three-week root canal with complications, she gets to be a beast and not follow the rules. You've got a "Get Out of Jail Free" card, I tell her. I don't argue with a woman who has a wild look in her eye, who is pacing the hallway like a panther, and who says it feels like someone is splitting her jaw open with a hacksaw. Vicoden is child's play, she tells me, downing a shot of whiskey and popping open a bottle of Brute. That's right, Brute with an "e."

We became acquainted with Ithaca Beer's Brute last week at a lovely beer-tasting dinner at Cornell hosted by Hotel School students and Ithaca Beer's brilliant master distiller, Jeff O'Neil. The Brute proved to be the life of the party: a citrusy sour ale the color of champagne, served in a flute, and paired with some biting cheese.

Okay, it's not even close to fortified wine, but Brute IS brewed with champagne yeast. And with a bouquet reminiscent of a barnyard, Brute certainly could be deemed "aromatic." One taste, and Leah decided Brute would make a great vermouth substitute.

The result? You can call it an Ithaca Negroni. I call it a Brutoni. Leah calls it a Bitchtooth: equal parts gin (we used Plymouth), Campari and Brute. The sour and bitter and gin blend together perfectly, and the cocktail has a tad of sparkle to it, not unlike a Sparkling Negroni that I saw on Rachel Ray's website a few minutes ago. It was an accident. I really don't hang out on Rachel Ray's site. Unless I need to find a good thirty minute meal. Leah says stop talking about Rachel Ray.

Not in Ithaca? You lose. Brute is a beer that goes beyond beer and into the realm of the extraordinary. Get yourself to the Ithaca Beer brewery to try some, or have a friend send you some. Either is a worthwhile endeavor.

Ithaca Negroni

1 ounce Plymouth gin
1 ounce Campari
1 ounce Ithaca Beer's Brute

Stir with ice. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Road Trip! Adirondacks Again

Once a year, Leah and I jump off the grid and land in the middle of nowhere in the Adirondacks for a week. The fall is a quiet time up in them there hills, with no screaming mosquitos or buzzing children to bother us.

Our adventures this year brought us into close proximity to merganzers, ruffed grouse (grouses? grice?), an angry pileated woodpecker, red squirrels, old growth pine trees and Lake Placid Ubu Ale. Rich and malty, this dark red beer tasted great with a bleu cheese burger and eggplant parm from the Adirondack Mountain Grill in Indian Lake.

Back at the cabin, we drank a lot of Heron Hill Chardonnay, plus one of Leah's birthday gifts from bartender Melissa, Westmalle Dubbel Belgian Trappist Ale, which paired delightfully with sourdough bread and cheddar cheese.

Ironically, a hike in the Finger Lakes National Forest yesterday brought us into close proximity with a moaning black bear. OK, we didn't see the bear directly and I'm not sure the park ranger believed us, but the only other thing that could have been making that hair-raising noise is a zombie, and I doubt a zombie would want to hang out in the forest since human brains are scarce. What, you don't believe me either? Go to this site on bears and scroll to the last sound clip. If what we heard wasn't a bear, then from what I can tell from my extensive (five minutes of) web research, Bigfoot is hiding out in the Hector's National Forest. You heard it here first.

Speaking of birthdays, Felicia Atomic Lounge turns 5 years old tomorrow. What is that in human years?

Boilermaker

Hopefully by the time you read this, the sun will be shining in Ithaca. If not, we will just have to accept the latest fashion trend: Rain is the new sun.

Over the past few months, umbrellas have been accidentally and shamelessly abandoned at Felicia’s Atomic Lounge; most of them are shiny black or navy blue, with the occasional hot pink, red polka dot or blue striped umbrella intermingling with the drab. While inspiring fashionable raincoats and designer umbrellas, the rain has not been inspirational in the creation of sunny summer cocktails.

We fall back instead on one of our old standbys, the Boilermaker. A Boilermaker is a simple concept: a shot of whiskey with a beer on the side. A tradition maintained by our grandfathers and their grandfathers before them, the Boilermaker is the perfect drink to blend your mood in with the drizzly landscape.

Amelia’s tasting tip: Whiskey tastes best when drunk out of one of your dad’s old, beat up rocks glasses.

Leah’s tasting tip: Try Dogfish Head's Raison D'Etre mahogany ale with a shot of Glenlivet scotch.

Boilermaker

1 beer
1 shot of whiskey (or tequila or vodka)

Drink. Mope. Hope for sunshine.

PBR Ashtrays

Since you all can't seem to stop stealing the ashtrays from the outdoor benches, galldarnit,we discovered a solution for these financially frugal times. For just five cents, we can make our ashtrays out of empty PBR cans, endlessly supplied by our $1 PBR Recession Wednesdays.

My design is the PBR pinwheel, taking a mere one minute and eight seconds to make, and requiring no skill or power tools, thank goodness, because I would probably cut off one of my fingers. A pair of dull scissors does the trick. (For the ashtray, not to cut off a finger.)

Leah, not to be outdone by my brief and rare display of craftiness, took much longer to design her PBR ashtray which resulted in a more classic retro look. After her initial creative time investment, she, too, was able to complete each ashtray in under two minutes.

Now if you steal an ashtray, at least it will be a fashionably cool one.

You owe me five cents.

Road Trip! Elk Creek Cafe

Recently Leah and I took a road trip to Elk Creek Cafe in Millheim, Pennsylvania for a music festival. "Where is Millheim?" Leah asked. "Must be in the middle of nowhere," I answered. And it was. Twenty-or-so miles from Penn State, Millheim is in the heart of farming country. We awoke Sunday morning to the sound of pigs squealing and the clop-clop of Amish buggies heading to church. Our breakfast at a friend's farm house consisted of sausage, eggs and veggies from their own pigs, chicken and fields. And smack in the middle of Millheim, where all you would hope for is a general store, we found the Elk Creek Cafe and Aleworks.

The Elk Creek Cafe is a bustling, high energy cafe and brewery with locavore bistro-style food and a whole lot of amazing brews on tap. On both Saturday night and Sunday afternoon, the cafe was packed with people who appreciated good music, good food and damn good beer. I sampled every one of the beers from my friends' glasses, and I settled on the Double Rainbow IPA which had a generous amount of hops and a tantalizing fruity aroma (IPA has been my beer of choice these days). Leah, not one to be tied down, danced from beer to beer and enjoyed the Great Blue Heron Pale Ale, Elk Creek Copper Ale and Brookie Brown.

Yes, it is in the middle of nowhere, about a three hour drive from Ithaca. But the Elk Creek Cafe is good enough to be a destination by itself. The cafe has music most weekends, with Ithaca favorites the Horseflies, Hank Roberts and Wingnut all making appearances there in November and December. Local band The Jive Bombers are also a must-see. Need a place to stay? Check out The Three Porches bed and breakfast. And when you go, be sure to bring me back a growler of that IPA.

Road Trip! Brooklyn

We took a wild road trip to Brooklyn last weekend with our band, the Black Eyed Susies. Did we have fun? Let's just say that watching the sunrise in the city is a beautiful thing. Leah and I stayed in Park Slope and after dragging our citygirl a**es out of bed, we got to visit some restaurants in the neighborhood for the most important meal of the day: brunch.

Ithaca is painfully short on brunch spots, so it was a thrill to have so many places from which to choose. Our good friend and fellow musician Jan Bell guided us to Little D's on 7th Ave on Saturday. As a potato pig, I felt a bit unsatisfied with my generic hash browns and soggy toast, but Leah's biscuits with sage-mushroom-sausage gravy were brilliant. On Sunday, we hit up Steinhof's cafe at 7th and 14th Streets for a hearty serving of German sausage and some well-endowed potatoes that really put out, perfect for a potato whore such as myself.

Our band played at two DUMBO establishments: 68 Jay Street Bar and Superfine. We ate dinner twice at Superfine and enjoyed super entrees including Mexican chicken-lime soup, penne with garlic and squash, and my favorite, bucatini with bolognese sauce. We can't report on any cocktails (booze+banjo+bass=bad) but the beer of the weekend was definitely Sugar Hill Ale from the Harlem Brewing Company. It was malty, well-hopped and all around tasty. Highly recommended by each one of the Black Eyed Susies, and those girls know beer.

Mixology Monday: Guilty Pleasures

What do you get when forty or so expert mixologists get together online to blog about cocktails? Usually some truly amazing, over-the-top drink recipes. Today, not so. October's Mixology Monday, hosted by Stevi at Two at the Most, has brought out the shameful secrets of what some of the world's top mixologists drink in the closet. The theme? Guilty Pleasures. In other words, what do you love to drink that you don't admit that you love to drink? What is your "comfort drink?" Your Kraft macaroni and cheese of cocktails? Your tuna noodle casserole of martinis? Your tater tots of spiked beverages? Your grilled American cheese with Campbells tomato soup of drinks? You get the picture.

Some familiar themes have been popping up today on blogs all over the web: the fuzzy navels of our younger years, pina coladas, anything mixed with Coca Cola, anything blended with ice cream. Personally, I left all of my drinking guilt behind when I turned 21. My guilty feelings are currently reserved for making my girlfriend cry, or running over a squirrel. I do, however, enjoy some beverages that would fall into the "I don't get no respect" category.

Like vodka, for example. I love vodka. Dirty vodka martinis or orange vodka and tonic, love 'em both. You might think drinking vodka is nothing to be embarrassed about, but you would be surprised to see just how many fancy-schmancy mixologists turn up their noses in vodka's presence.

My most cozy flannel shirt of the alcohol world, however is Pabst Blue Ribbon and a shot of Jack Daniels. Let's face it. It is not always safe to order a martini or even a mixed drink at an unknown bar. How often do you pick up a cocktail menu and see ingredients like Smirnoff Cherry or Sour Apple Pucker? When in doubt, I order some Mr. Daniels and a PBR (I prefer it in a bottle but it is more hip to be seen with a can). I actually really like them both a lot, and they are easy on the wallet. And if I want to keep my cocktail artist facade, PBR looks great in a martini glass.

Road Trip! Adirondacks

Imagine the scene: A lakefront rustic cottage accessible only by boat. Loons, beavers, bald eagles, and the occasional bear sighting. Pure wilderness. One would think that a paddle into the nearby middle-of-nowhere town would find a snack shack or maybe a diner. But instead, the only restaurant for miles is the upscale Lodge on Lake Clear.

The Lodge on Lake Clear in the eastern Adirondacks is owned by husband-wife team Ernest and Cathy Hohmeyer. Cathy's ancestors built the lodge in 1886; Ernest's European family bought it in 1965. Together they fuse fresh Adirondack produce and local game with old world dishes.

Dining at the lodge is more than a meal; it is a whole body experience. Guests start their evening in the "rathskeller", which is German for "I have a selection of 150 rare imported beers in my dark basement where there is a big, stone fireplace and overstuffed chairs." Unable to choose, Leah and I decided to split the smoked beer sampler.

First up was the Saranac Rauchbier. It proved to be a pleasant lager, with only the slightest hint of smoke. Next was the Schlenkerla Rauchbier Maerzen. It was by far the most phenomenal of the beers, and definitely my favorite flavor of the night. This hearty beer had the aroma of smoked bacon with a light fruit flavor in the background (I could have had a few more of these. Would go well with breakfast, too). The last beer was Aventinus Weizen Eisbock. This complex, slightly sweet ice bock tasted of toasted malt and barley and was a great beer with which to wrap up our beer hour.

It was almost disappointing when it was time to leave the rathskeller and venture upstairs for dinner, but the aromas coming from the kitchen quickly made me forget my hesitation. Let me warn you: If you do not eat meat or game, the Lodge is probably not the restaurant for you. You will be happier buying a box of pasta and a jar of Ragu from the nearby general store to take back to your camp. As a recovered vegetarian myself, I overwhelmed myself by ordering the sauerbraten, local beef that was marinated for three days in a crock before being cooked in a wine sauce. It came with killer dumplings. Next time I would try their vegetable strudel.

Leah got the game sampler which came on a loooong platter with cornish hen, quail, and what she referred to as "the most beautiful sausage balls I have ever laid eyes on," which the waitress later told us were made with cute furry woodland critters such as rabbits. The sausage hopped quickly into her mouth. Though the quail was headless, Leah was convinced it was staring at her and for some reason could not bring herself to eat it. This is the problem with eating game: frequently it is served still resembling its natural state in the forest, making you honestly face up to exactly what you are eating. Kind of like frog legs.

Our prix fixe meals also came with hearty beef dumpling soup, salad and a side of fermented red cabbage; appetizers and dessert cost extra. We were too full for dessert, but if we had room for anything else, it would have definitely been more beer. My only complaint of the evening is that the coffee (which we took back down to the rathskeller to drink by the fire) was lukewarm at best, and i prefer mine hot enough to burn the flesh off of my tongue and require asbestos gloves to pick it up. Total cost of the meal: $120 before tip.

While I personally would not consider the Lodge on Lake Clear a destination all by itself (though they do have some fantastic lodging), if you are in the Adirondacks, it is worth at least an hour drive (or paddle) to get there, even if all you did was drink beer in the rathskeller. Remember, it is so dark at night in the Adirondacks that you can't see your beer in front of your face when you are paddling home. Be prepared for some good arguments (-Where the hell are we? -What do you mean where are we? I thought you knew where we were!) and make sure you leave your cottage light on.

Road Trip! Collegetown

While Collegetown is technically a part of the city of Ithaca and only about a quarter mile up the hill from the Commons, this neighborhood feels miles away from downtown. Many Cornell students never venture beyond the invisible boundary at the top of Buffalo Street. When I was a Cornellian (two decades ago!), I had no idea downtown existed until I was a senior. I'm serious. Common sense is not a requirement for admission to Ivy League colleges. In the same vein, townies often choose to avoid college hangouts and the steep hike up the hill, made pseudo-famous by early Little Rascals episodes involving go-carts careening out-of-control down this very slope.

That said, the Chapter House is a great excuse to give your thighs a workout. In fact, they were featured in this month's Imbibe Magazine in the article "100 Best Places to Drink Beer in America."

Our reason for visiting the Chapter House last night was to have a final toast with our former bartender, Nat, on the eve of her embarking on a permanent journey to foodie heaven (San Francisco) with her partner, a fully loaded moving van and two mentally unstable cats. More on Nat in my next post.

Chapter House has one of the best beer selections in Ithaca, with over 30 brews on tap. Leah and I both started with a pint of Wachusett Blueberry. Leah went back for a second. Unfortunately, my sense of taste has been off since I had a cold a few weeks ago, and the blueberry flavor was too mild for me to completely appreciate. I chose the more burly Saranac Black Forest as my second pint. Our friends were drinking Victory Golden Monkey (which tasted remarkably like bananas), Rogue Dead Guy and a lot of pints of Strongbow Hard Cider.

Having not eaten since breakfast, Leah and I then set out on foot in order to find somewhere in Collegetown that was open at 10pm on a Monday night. Our usual haunts, the ABC Cafe and Vietnam Restaurant (best Vietnamese we have ever had), were sadly closed, as was Nat's favorite Korean place, Four Seasons. We ended up at a Japanese restaurant we had never been at before, Miyake. We were a little nervous that we were the only people in there, but decided we were up for an adventure. Here's our review: excellent food with artful presentation, a little pricey for C-town, but the service was exemplary. Leah had the avocado salad and a something-dragon roll (it included shrimp tempura) and I had the spicy tofu appetizer followed by a yam roll. We liked all of it, and it was easy on our beer-filled late-night bellies. They were out of the 375 ml bottle of sake that we ordered so the owner gave us the chilled house sake for free. Nice touch. Total for dinner before tip came to $38 for two. We will definitely go back to Miyake, as long as we can get our lazy booties up the hill again.

Bar Incident: The girl with the weird hair

Part I: Red Stripe's Story

It was nice and quiet in the Hussman Cooler. And cold. I like the cold. It's how I remember things being my whole life. I liked that I was surrounded by my peers, really close but not touching. Orderly. Predictable. That was my life. Hangin' out with my peeps, just chillin'.

And then the woman with the blue streaks in her hair reached in, pulled me out of the cooler and popped my top off. It was simultaneously shocking and a release. That's when it happened. She handed me to that b*tch with the weird hair. That girl's sweaty, angry fist wrapped around my middle too tightly. Her hand was hot, demanding. The girl slammed me down on the bar to root around in her pockets. I looked around the bar desperately, but there seemed no escape. Could someone else pick me up? Maybe I could topple myself over? I tried to rock side-to-side but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed.

Suddenly the girl's hand was gripping me painfully again. As she raised me up to her lips, her foul-mouthed, negative-nancy, spoiled brat lips, I knew my fate was sealed. It was over, and my last precious moments of existence would be in the stomach of the b*tchy girl with the weird hair.

Part II: The Bar Stool's Story

I saw it all happen but I didn't care. I'm a carefree, spin-any-way-the-wind-blows kind of guy. You should see the shit that happens in this bar. Like the time the guy sitting on me was feeling up the guy next to him while his girlfriend was in the bathroom. Or the woman who got drunk and fell off of me, then tried to drive home and ended up in a ditch. It's a bar for god's sake. Things aren't always pretty. The girl with the weird hair? That was nothing. Sure, she didn't say please, or thank you for that matter, and she threw her tip down like it was a chore, but whatever. You gotta relax and let these things go.

Me? I'm here to serve. Sit on me, prop your heels on the rungs, spin a little, move me to the other side of the room if you want. I'm easy. That girl was just another drop in the slop bucket. Haha! Get it? Slop bucket. A little bar humor there. I am so funny.

You got to be easy-going to survive in a bar night after night, putting up with all the crazy regulars. Frankly, I like the company. The more the merrier. We all have to let loose sometimes, you know? And what better place than at a bar? If you can't be yourself here, then what's the point? Lighten up, that's what I say. Don't worry so much. Life is too damn short.

Road Trip! Seneca Lake

In recognition of the exodus of the Felicia bartenders who have been with us the longest, known to the drinking world as Sharon (Shay) and Nat (Gnat), Felicia rented a limo earlier this week and the whole Felicia gang headed over to Seneca Lake. For those out-of-towners reading this blog, Seneca Lake is the deepest of the Finger Lakes located in, you guessed it, the Finger Lakes region of New York. Armed with two of Felicia's best bottles of champagne which lasted less than the 30 minute ride to the first winery, the dolled-up Felicia staff piled into the limo for a night on the town, er, small town. Though Felicia clearly stated to Right Limousine that there would be 10 people on the excursion, the limo definitely only seated 9, leaving one Felicia to enjoy sitting on a lap or the hump on the floor. This fact became less uncomfortable as the night wore on and intoxication levels increased.

Felicia's first stop was beer tasting at Wagner Vineyards and the adjoining Wagner Valley Brewing Company in Lodi, NY. While the wines at Wagner remind you why you need to be cautious in buying wines from the Finger Lakes, their beers are quite tasty. The Sled Dog Doppelbock was proclaimed the staff favorite.

Second stop: Chateau Lafayette Reneau Winery in Hector, where the wines were surprisingly good. Felicia has noticed more of them on local restaurant menus lately, especially their Riesling.

Felicia's next stop was the Village Marina in Watkins Glen whose ambiance can best be compared to a crab shack. Here the staff cooled down from the breeze off the lake as they drank beer (exception: Woody drank Red Cat!) at a picnic table on the shore. Appetizers were ordered and snarfed down by the tipsy crew; however Felicia would advise you to stick with beverages at this location since all of the appetizers were deep fried and tasted, well, like a deep fryer.

Dinner stop: Wildflower Cafe in Watkins Glen, home of Rooster Fish Brewing Company. Felicia really likes Rooster Fish's beers, especially the nut brown. However, the cafe was out of all of the brews except one. Strange. So the gang tried ordering from their non-local bottle menu, but they were also out of pretty much everything on there, too. Even stranger. The burgers were great, but the beer selection was obviously disappointing for a brew pub.

The details of the rest of the trip got a little hazy after Melissa bought us all a shot of Jameson (some of us recall a full moon Trumansburg) but hey, all bartending bonding experiences require a shot of whiskey, don't they? The night was deemed a success by all, and no one complained the next day about any lingering painful effects from the adventure, except for mourning the lack of beer at Rooster Fish and the heartbreak at saying goodbye to two of Felicia's own. Nat and Sharon, thanks for your excellent taste in cocktails, mixology skills and years of dedicated service to Felicia.

Black Heart Guinness

Dear Felicia,

What should we do, Felicia? We want to be burly. We want to be gruff. We want to be manly. But we secretly love foo-foo drinks. How can we maintain our masculine images with pink drinks in our calloused hands?

Signed,
Misunderstood Burly Men

Dear Misunderstood B.M.,

Felicia feels your pain. The pressures on men today are enormous. If you do not drink cheap beer, you risk being judged harshly by your peers. Fear not, oh-rough-and-tumble-yet-secretly-sensitive men. Felicia has a solution for you. The Black Heart Guinness puts hair on your chest, looks good in a dirty hand, and fools everyone who would not suspect the added chocolate liqueur and cherry juice. Your vulnerability will be our little secret.

Black Heart Guinness

10 ounces Guinness
1 ounce crème de cacao
¼ ounce maraschino cherry juice
maraschino cherry

Pour crème de cacao and cherry juice into pilsner glass. Top with Guinness. Add cherry as garnish, unless you are trying to maintain rugged image. Special thanks to Felicia Sharon for creating this man-meets-kitten cocktail.