Weekend Drinks, Blizzard Edition: A Standard Guide to Getting Plowed

The snow is snowing. The wind is blowing. But I can weather the storm. What do I care how much it may storm? I’ve got my drink to keep me warm. That’s right—Snowpocalypse 2016 is officially upon us (at least for those of us in the mid-Atlantic), so what better time to offer these drink recipes that are guaranteed to reduce Cabin Fever. You did stock up with sufficient booze and mixers, didn’t you?

So assuming you’ve got no place to go—and certainly no place to drive—and are itching to try something other than a screwdriver or a vodka-soda, try out these libations recommended by yours truly and a few of my colleagues who clearly have a drinking problem.

Senior Editor Andrew Ferguson writes in:

Someday, somewhere, someone will invite me—I just know this will happen!—to appear on one of those really cool panel discussions at a prestigious university where big-time journalists discuss the very nature of journalism itself. I already know what I’m going to say. “James,” I will say (because the moderator of the panel will be James Fallows, either him or Michael Beschloss; maybe Gergen), “what is a journalist? Some people say a journalist is a public servant. Some consider the journalist a self-righteous pest. Still others say the journalist is a tool of the capitalist elite. “But here’s my answer, James: ‘The Journalist is a cocktail!'” And a damn good one. It never fails to warm the snowbound home. Its base, of course, is gin. Pour four ounces of the stuff into a cocktail shaker half full of ice. Add one ounce each of sweet vermouth and dry vermouth. According to the New York Bartender’s Guide, an ounce of Triple Sec is called for next. But here in Washington we’re facing a once-in-a-lifetime storm. Put away the Triple Sec and substitute the pricier but much more delicious Grand Marnier. After a big squeeze of fresh lime, stir vigorously for fifteen minutes—okay, one minute. What you will end up with is, among other things, a whole lotta cocktail. So split it in half, straining it in to two (iced) cocktail glasses. No garnish necessary. With cocktails in hand you and your companion can toast the hack of your choice.

Managing Editor Eric Felten, the former drinks columnist at the Wall Street Journal, raves about Black Velvet, also referred to as “Blackers”: Very simply pour champagne (or a comparable sparkling wine—no, I am not talking about Cook’s) into a glass of Guinness (or a comparable stout) applying a 50-50 ratio. Drinking historian Gary Regan, however, recommends 4 and a half ounces of chilled champagne into a flute followed by an ounce of stout. Give both a try. Experiment! Before you know it, you’ll be hearing the snow plow rumbling down your road. Or it could be in your head.

(Speaking of Gary Regan, the spirits legend concocted a drink involving two ounces of cognac, half an ounce of peach schnapps, and half an ounce of Jägermeister—stir and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. It’s called Blow My Skull Off.)

If you have the ingredients—and I readily admit this may only be the case with serious imbibers, mixologists, and hipsters—here’s one that was given to me by a favorite bartender of mine, Fabian Malone: Take two ounces of bourbon, half an ounce of Amaro, half an ounce of Cocchi Americano (I can see you rolling your eyes!), and three dashes of orange bitters in your shaker. “Stir that bad boy for 45 seconds,” Fabian says. Then serve on ice with a rustic slice of orange. Three of these and you’ll be feeling mightier than the Plow King.

Don’t have all the ingredients? Here’s a simple one: Warren’s Irish Cream on the rocks. Of course you will have to be lucky enough to own a bottle of this cordial manufactured exclusively by TWS staff writer Michael Warren. I believe mine is marked 7/150.

And finally there’s senior writer Matt Labash, who says, “As a committed bourbon drinker, I believe all drink recipes, whatever the season, should adhere to the formula that Wild Turkey’s master distiller, the great Jimmy Russell, once gave me for a mint julep”:

You have to have a sterling silver mint julep cup, and 200 milliliters of Wild Turkey 101 proof. You got to shave the ice in that mint julep cup—you don’t want to put it in crushed. Then you go down to the spring where the fresh mint’s growing, and early that morning, you take eight to ten leaves of the fresh mint. You put it in, you mash it up to get the juice, then you take about a teaspoon of powdered sugar and enough water to dissolve it. Let it sit for about ten minutes, so you get the sweetness of the mint flavor. Then you strain it into your shaved ice. You take a sprig of mint, with all the leaves, and stick it down into the cup, ice and all. At that point, you walk to the back of your porch, throw it all away, and drink the 101 Wild Turkey straight.

“Replace Wild Turkey with Maker’s Mark (just don’t tell Russell I said so), and that about covers it,” says our senior writer, who at this very moment is convinced he is at Churchill Downs.

Happy Snowpocalypse!

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