We are in a long stretch right now. School over, camp not yet begun. Very little break from children.
Very. Little. Break.
(Overheard in my house this morning: “PLEASE. PLEASE just leave me alone when I’m in the bathroom. Please. I’m begging you. Just a few minutes. Please. I NEED PRIVACY JUST FIVE MINUTES OF PRIVACY RIGHT NOW!!!!!!”)
Actually, what I need is a drink. A stiff one. Which brings me to my new boyfriend, Mark Bittman.
Mark Bittman is my boyfriend not simply because his cookbook, How to Cook Everything, is one of the best kitchen purchases I have made. His recipes are simple to master, they call for few ingredients, and they rarely require precise attention to detail. (I’m not the only one who likes it; the book spent a whoppin’ 130 weeks on the Los Angeles Times Cookbook Hot List. His other cookbooks ain’t bad either).
Mark Bittman is my boyfriend not simply because he believes you don’t need expensive gear to be a good cook ($200-$300 should do it says my smart, frugal beau. To which I reply “You mean $221.95 – $321.95, honey!!! Can’t forget your cookbook, among the best evah, Sweetums!).
Mark Bittman is my boyfriend not simply because his recipe for a no-egg vanilla pudding is fast, simple, and super tasty, particularly when made with an actual vanilla bean and local, whole-fat milk (yes, this recipe uses cornstarch. Yes, cornstarch is processed. But I still put this in the category of more-or-less from scratch, and if you do, too, you should try it tonight. It takes 20 easy minutes, and you probably have the ingredients on hand).
Mark Bittman is my boyfriend not simply because, despite selling millions of copies of cookbooks, he once declared his own kitchen to be “terrible… one of the worst kitchens ever,” and still had no interest in spending $30,000 to fix it up.
Mark Bittman is my boyfriend not simply because his philosophy on meat is the same as my own: the modern stuff is creepy. Eat less, and make it quality, says my Pooky.
He is my boyfriend for all of those reasons, it’s true. But this week, he is my boyfriend because he taught me how to make MUCH NEEDED sour cocktails without recipes. His column in the Times, Add a Splash of Ad-Lib, breaks it down and makes bartender-quality cocktails seem so, so simple.
His formula: Booze + something sweet + something sour = 80% of drinks. In the right proportions, of course, and he’s there to help with that.
Read this article if (a) you appreciate the occasional gimlet or kamikaze and haven’t the faintest idea how to make them, (b) you are going slightly mad in a between-school-and-camp limbo, and you, like me, need a drink right about now, (c) you find premixed high fructose corn syrup-laden drink “mixes” just plain icky, and prefer simple cocktails with pure ingredients, and (d) you don’t smirk too much at the idea that you can call any liver-busting cocktail “pure.”
….We interrupt this blog for a quick note to my mother: No, mom, I will not be drinking vodka while home alone with the children. I promise. My readers won’t either. No, they won’t drink and drive. They are smart, responsible adults. I promise. I am, too. Yes I am! Am so!!! Jeesh….
In that same article, Bittman compares making a good drink to making good food:
The parallels with cooking are clear. You can start with good ingredients, or not. You can start with someone else’s recipe (on which there are usually a score or more variations) or make the cocktail your own. The point — and this clearly comes from the perspective of cook, not bartender — is this: Why not make cocktails from scratch, ignoring the names and acknowledging your preferences? Why not treat the margarita like a dish of pasta with tomatoes, assuming a few given ingredients but varying them according to your taste?…it’s very empowering.
His post inspired some snarky responses, like this one from a guy who uses words like “egregious” and “bizarre” and “unconscionable” about the post (Dude! Lighten up! He’s talking to folks like me, who don’t have the slightest idea how to mix up these spirits and don’t want to resort to a T.G.I. Friday’s Blenders margarita mix! Besides, you don’t seem very nice. I’m betting my boyfriend is WAY nicer than you).
Now I’m off to shepherd small people to the local swimming hole. In between helping small people not drown, I will daydream about cosmopolitans and sidecars, all served to me by a loincloth-clad Mark Bittman.
Yeah, that Mark Bittman totally does it for me, too!
I didn’t even finish reading the article on Wednesday before I went online and saved it to my Times file. I shall be concocting from his formula all Summer (and probably well into Fall, too!)
You can’t have Bittman, I’ve already claimed him.
Am heading to said swimming hole and am contemplating a thermos of Amy-tinis for the adults!
As if the mention of Bittman himself wasn’t enough, as soon as I saw the word *sidecars* I knew I had to read the article.
The week between the end of school and the start of camp is the longest of the year. Cheers!
While Bittman is fantastic, this is the mixological phenomenon that has currently captured my imagination:
http://nymag.com/restaurants/recipes/inseason/45776/
TWBernard: WOW. I wasn’t expecting that. You’re kidding me, right? Holy, moly, I don’t even know what to think about that one. Try it. No seriously, please try it. Let me know how it is.
I once drank a homemade pork schnapps in college on a dare; it made me puke after one shot. I’m haunted by that, frankly. Could I do a bacon-infused cocktail, even with beloved maple syrup? I dunno.
Wow.
I’m not kidding. I never kid about bourbon.
When I get around to trying it, I’ll definitely give you a report. With summer upon us, this experiment will likely wait for cooler weather, when bourbon drinkin’ is more appropriate.
I hear you on the “very.little.break” issue. I have banned the word bored from the house and I if I hear it, a “chore reward” is given, no ands, ifs, or buts.
But what was I thinking when I decided “we” didn’t need any camp between the end of school and our vacation? It *is* enough to turn to drink, isn’t it? I’ve got an endless list of things to do before we go away, yet I am barraged with constant requests to go to the pool, the beach, the county fair, have a non-neighborhood friend over, watch TV, watch TV, and watch TV. Did I mention “can I watch some TV? Something on the Discovery/History channel so I’ll learn something?”. Yeesh! Why is it that watching the TV is the only request that doesn’t require my participation? When I say “read a book” I get a scowl and sulking. So far I’m not giving into the TV, but man, I know what you need about wanting some relief!
I have great insight now why my mother sent us each to the bathroom in turn, gave us a drink of water, and gently “pushed” the three of us out the door and locked it behind us. These days that would be considered “abuse” by some. Now I consider it “sanity”.
Oh. My. Major paradigm shift happening here! Drink-mixing without all the icky bottled fructose poisons? I could be tempted. . . .
Ali, sorry Mark Bittman has been MY boyfriend for many years. Oh, I guess I can share.
Of the hundreds of cookbooks in our house the only two I really use are “How to Cook Everything” and “The Joy of Cooking.” Amazingly, they have taught me more than my hippie chef husband.
By the way, I just had six nine-year boys over for a sleepover. You think you need a drink? I need the whole friggin’ bottle.
PS. A hello shout out to Mr. Bernard above! Say hi to the wife and kiddo for me.
Robin- Your hippie chef husband reads this blog, too.
I know.
Now, now, Ali and Robin, no need to fight. There’s plenty of my non-additive-polluted hot bod to go around, you lovely things.
Let’s drink a toast to mixin’ it up, keepin’ it surreal, ladies.
I heart MB.
What I don’t like about MB’s recipes is when he gives you variants of a core recipe, they are presented like puzzles. I want to be able to glance at it and not have to figure out what “Margarita but with vodka and lime instead of lemon” means.
I was recently using the basic pie crust recipe from his How To Cook Everything book, and I was trying to make a double crust and I had lard I wanted to use up. I actually had to rewrite the recipe because otherwise every time I’d look a the variant, I’d have to stop and reread the whole thing.
I haven’t read the article yet but I will. We don’t use drink mixers in our house but I do use tonic. Tonic is probably bad, huh? I’ve always been a little freaked out about it because it contains quinine and I don’t know anything about quinine except for it’s relationship to malaria. With all the mosquitos up here, I figured a little quinine might not be so bad. Oooo…I am havng tonic guilt now. Damn…tonic has to be bad.
I make a mean caipirinha though! I tell you Ali, you come to Minnesota and I will keep you very happy with caipirinhas and locally grown foods! I promise! Book that ticket now!