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Read all about it
With a mix of history, trivia, and recipes, drink books range from academic to practical
BY RUTH TOBIAS

It makes historical sense that Americans’ drinking habits should be somewhat rough-and-tumble compared to those of the oenophilic Europeans. After all, let us not forget, our forefathers waged a revolution over (among other things) prohibitive import taxes on rum: we had to fight for the right to party. And we’ve been swilling, chugging, guzzling, moonshining when we had to, and all-around knockin’ ’em back ever since.

Of course, American tastes have matured noticeably in the past few decades: wine spritzers are washed up, microbrews are mainstream, grappa is de rigueur. Meanwhile, in response to our developing awareness, publishers have saturated the market with all manner of histories, handbooks, and guides relating to the craftsmanship, culture, traditions, and trends of drink and drinking. Some are scholarly, some silly; some are practical, some esoteric; some offer insight, others mainly hangovers. Here are a few that span the range.

Martini, Straight Up: The Classic American Cocktail, by Lowell Edmunds (Johns Hopkins University Press, 184 pages, $55.95). This is a compelling (if occasionally precious) profile of precisely the sort of tension in the collective American psyche described above — between the will to worldliness and the allegiance to frontier spirit, between cultivation and wildness — as viewed through the prism of the "perfect" martini. As such, of course, it is also a meditation on the martini as a prism through which our culture, in all its paradigm shifts, can be viewed; indeed, Edmunds contends, the martini is inconceivable independent of the way it reflects the society that created it. Above all, the martini mirrors "the fundamental contradictions of American life" through its association with both the "civilized" and the "uncivilized," the decadent and the pure. Edmunds (by day a classics professor at Rutgers) does a highly entertaining job of showing how easily these categories blur — whether with an analysis of Hemingway’s simultaneously macho and sensitive, virile and emasculated martini drinkers or a retelling of the joke about "a mountain climber who mixed himself a martini ... [by] shout[ing] ‘vermouth’ in the direction of the neighboring mountains. When the echo came back, he held up his glass and in this way obtained a sufficient amount of vermouth."

Strangers to the drink might be frustrated by the absence of recipes, strangers to postmodernism by claims like "the role of the garnish is to be the ‘other,’ " but aficionados of both the martini and its culture will appreciate the tribute to this distilled spirit that is a distillation of spirit, namely American.

Party Shots: Recipes for Jiggle-iscious Fun, by Mittie Hellmich (Chronicle Books, 96 pages, $10.95). A danger to itself and others, Party Shots is an adorable, candy-colored little guide to that lethal libation known as the gelatin shooter. Accompanied by delightfully kinky illustrations of little bunnies and kittens wearing party hats and holding balloons, the text may concern the concoction of Jell-O shots, but the subtext points straight to the corruption of innocents — out of whose hands this book should obviously be kept. Which is really no discredit to this genuinely informative and entertaining primer. A thorough introduction describes the merits of flavored versus neutral bases, the physics of garnish suspension, and the "tilt-and-slide technique." Sprinkled throughout the book, meanwhile, are all manner of juicy tidbits: take the factoid about the scientific study that actually measured the shimmer of gelatin against EEG output, or the tips on using insects as ingredients in "Fear Factor shots" (cinnamon schnapps and ant eggs: the next Champagne and caviar?). The recipes themselves are inventive and surprisingly appealing, as with the Coquito Nog Shot that blends eggnog, rum, vanilla, and coconut milk (plus unflavored gelatin, of course), or the Atomic Tonic, a gin and tonic with a triple twist of lime in the forms of sorbet, juice, and gelatin. Seems Jell-O is not just for juveniles, or delinquents, anymore.

The Great Margarita Book, by Al Lucero with John Harrisson (Ten Speed Press, 160 pages, $15.95). By contrast, the recipes in The Great Margarita Book are laughably tedious — or rather, the recipe, since 90 of 98 are exactly the same, save for featuring different types of tequilas and orange liqueurs. The book’s value lies rather in the author’s sheer enthusiasm for tequila, which leads him to provide handy data, both hard and anecdotal, on a spirit whose history and attributes have until recently gone rather under-appreciated on this side of the border. Know your plata from your reposado from your añejo tequilas? Or tequila altogether from pulque or mezcal? How about your distillers — not just Cuervo, but Chinaco, Sauza, Herradura? If not, here’s your consumer guide. Curious about the production of tequila, from its beginnings in Aztec ritual to today’s highly regulated Mexican industry? If so, this is the resource. The book even has the makings of a cultural study as Lucero, a Santa Fe restaurateur, deconstructs the ever-popular but oft-misunderstood titular cocktail, ingredient by ingredient (down to the ice and salt) and legend by legend (usually centered on some eponymous, fiery-tempered paramour). And who knows — perhaps the more you learn, the more you too will spurn the latest triple-layer tutti-frutti frozen-margarita mix in favor of Lucero’s purist method.

The Saké Handbook, by John Gauntner (Tuttle Publishing, 256 pages, $12.95). In a similar vein, The Saké Handbook is no peek-a-book, but rather a serious reference work for fledgling connoisseurs of Japanese "rice wine" (something of a misnomer, as it turns out, for reasons the author explains). Organized, meticulous, and comprehensive, Gauntner’s guide identifies the many varieties of sake; explains in detail the complex procedures by which it is made; offers purchasing and sipping guidelines; rates and recommends brands; and even provides reviews of Tokyo "sake pubs," complete with street maps; of course there’s a glossary, too, to teach you your kaori from your kuchiatari (that is, fragrance from flavor). Simply put, the book’s straightforward, substance-over-style M.O. makes it a solid acquisition for the home mixologist’s library.

Mr. Boston Official Bartender’s and Party Guide, 65th edition, revised and edited by Renee Cooper and Chris Morris (Warner Books, 272 pages, $10.95). Of course, any such library worth its salt must start with a comprehensive bartending manual. But which one? Given that there are hundreds, the recommendation of a pro like Peter White — a long-time local ’tender who now co-owns Rouge — is indispensable. As it happens, White is in the process of writing his own bar guide, but publication is still two years away. When asked what he would recommend in the meantime, he admits that "if I were stuck without my notes, I’d say the Mr. Boston guide. There’s a series, and the nice thing about them is that from city to city people tend to have different names for different drinks, so they maintain a regional identity." Granted, our region’s identity historically tends toward that of the teetotaler, but to rest assured that’s not the case here, you need only to turn to the appendix on party planning, which includes a chart that allows for three-plus drinks per guest — at a luncheon. And then there’s the simple fact that the book contains more than 1000 recipes, from classics to, well, anything but (take the coffee old-fashioned, with bourbon, bitters, club soda, instant coffee, and powdered sugar, or the Purple Mask, with vodka, crème de cacao, and grape juice — gulp).

Of course, should you wish to learn anything about a given drink beyond its recipe — where the Naked Pretzel got its name, for instance — you’re out of luck; you can’t have 1000 drinks and know their histories too. But otherwise Mr. Boston is comprehensive. There’s a complete introduction to equipment, stemware, staples, condiments, and common techniques (such as muddling), as there is to each of the foremost spirits. There are separate sections on beer and wine, containing brief glossaries. There are even sidebars containing drinking games, puzzles, and famous quotations — such as FDR’s pronouncement upon the repeal of Prohibition: "What America needs now is a drink." If he only knew.

Ruth Tobias can be reached at ruthtobias@earthlink.net

Issue Date: Fall 2003

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