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About Ramblings of a Hopeless Khowaga

Welcome to my Web site. My name is Chris, and I’ll be your host. I\'m an opinionated, snarky, gay academic with a predilection for the history, the Arab world, languages, photography, food, and music. I live in Austin, Texas. You can read more about me, learn 100 random things about me, and if you’re wondering what the heck a khowaga is, click here. Feel free to browse, read, and leave comments!

Tag: ‘alcohol’



In search of the perfect maitai

Sunday, April 20th, 2008

I wasn’t such a good blogger this week. Michael IM’ed me at one point to tell me that my blog just wasn’t the same without photos of Hawaii pasted all over it, and I can emphasize. I’ve been trying to get a little more color in these pages, and somehow “work sucks” doesn’t inspire much color. Or commentary.

So…

Ray and the tikis

Ray’s birthday is coming up next month. I had already promised our friends that we would have a tiki party when we got back from Hawaii, and somehow the tiki party and Ray’s birthday got mixed together, so now we’re having a tiki birthday party for him. Planning it has been remarkably fun because there’s so much tiki party crap out there. (Seriously — there are some hard core tikiphiles out there. Check out konakai.com to see what I mean.)

The most important items on the menu for any tiki/Hawaiian themes party, however, are the drinks. You’ve got to have tropical drinks, and the sort of classic beginning for a Hawaiian drink is a maitai.

Looks Hawaiian, don’t it?

The problem, as I have discovered is … well, numerous-fold.

First off, there is such a thing as maitai mix on the market. However, I have recently developed something of an issue with drinks that are mostly colored corn syrup. Seriously, the next time you hit the grocery or liquor store, look at those margarita and piña colada mixes and check out the inclusion of “high fructose corn syrup” as one of the ingredients. There are very, very few that use anything else — I like Stirrings, which uses cane sugar, but man, it’s expensive. I recently started making margaritas with fresh limeade from the grocery store. They’re pretty damned good if I do say so myself.

The next issue is that no two people seem to be able to agree on what actually goes in to a maitai. The bartender cheat sheet that we have at home gives the following recipe:

1 part light rum
1 part dark rum
2 parts pineapple juice
splash of grenadine
garnish with cherry, pineapple slice, umbrella, and any other flair floating about the house

I find pineapple juice just a little too bitter on its own, so I’ve been using pineapple/mango juice. It comes out nice and fruity with a little bite to it:

So, while I was perusing the above tiki Web site and its myriad of links, I decided to get some inspiration for other drinks to serve at the party. You’ve got to have Blue Hawaiians, because they’re blue. You can’t go wrong with blue drinks at a tiki party.

However, I was a bit puzzled/alarmed to discover that one site, which claims to be engaging in the search for the definitive maitai recipe, included these words: “the original maitai included only lime juice. For this reason, anything that includes any other kind of fruit juice (orange, pineapple) is not a real maitai.”

Who knew?

Now, speaking blunty, some of the recipes I’ve found are just cheating (you don’t use orange juice, you use orange curaçao or triple sec). But I dutifully tried some of the recipes just to see how they came out … and wound up adding the pineapple juice anyway because they came out so bitter.

The other problem is that the “definitive recipes” include things like orgeat — almond syrup — and something called “rock candy syrup.” I know of a place locally that probably carries them, and I’ll check them out … and the first thing I’m going to do is look at the ingredients to check for high fructose corn syrup. If I want my guests going into diabetic shock, it’ll be from the food, thank you very much.

Otherwise, I’ll just stick with my current recipe, which is:

2 parts dark rum
2 parts light rum
1 part lime juice
1 part orange curaçao
a good helping of pineapple/mango juice (roughly 4 parts)
a splash of grenadine
flair

Shake and serve over ice.

On to testing the next recipe. This is the kind of homework I can get with! :mrgreen:

So — anyone have other tiki drink suggestions?

Just say no to Jaeger

Monday, August 6th, 2007

Too many posts from people extolling the virtues of Jaegermeister lately. What is it with Jaeger?

Yesterday, Ray and I stood in line at our local Subway (for … ever … ) behind a guy with a Jaegermeister key lanyard hanging out of his pocket. It went so well with his massive earring – one of those ones that requires you to drill a hole in your ear that would leave Ndebele tribeswomen drooling with envy — and his requisite Blockbuster Video employee polo shirt.

This is in addition to Danny’s comment the other day about Jaeger curing what ails you, and now Daniel’s getting free Jaeger bomb shots. What is it with this stuff? It’s like it’s following me around, taunting me. I am resisting the temptation to find out. No Jaeger for me. I know too many stories about Jaeger that end with projectile vomiting.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sit over here with my bottle of ouzo and console myself. So Nyah. :wink:

There always has to be a morning after

Monday, February 19th, 2007

It’s quiet in the office today. I always enjoy made-up holidays like Presidents Day, since the State of Texas shuts down, but us poor lonely peons at the University get to come to work as usual (we’re only considered state employees when it comes to budget cuts and losing our dental insurance and stuff like that). I shouldn’t complain too much – they do give us a week off at Christmas, and when the governor remembers we occasionally get part of Good Friday off, too.

Anyway.

I’m still a bit out of it today. On Saturday night, we had a joint birthday party for me and our friends Bianca and James (James’ birthday was last Monday, Bianca’s was Friday, mine was Saturday), and I remember … parts of the evening. I’m cursed with the ability to remember just about all of the stupid shit I do when I’m drunk — I do recall that there was dancing (and I must have been really drunk because I only dance when I’ve lost all of my inhibitions), and there was conversation with people, and there was much drinking. Much, much drinking. Did I mention the drinking?

Some of my work pals came by, which was fun because the ones who came are the ones that I like and who can actually cut loose and not spend the entire evening talking about work stuff. There was Lisa and Michael and Michael’s boyfriend Victor and Beverly and her husband David, and then Kathy and her boyfriend Chris showed up, and I felt a little sorry for Chris because he looked a little lost and I was too drunk to do anything about it. But still, all very cool people whose company I enjoy and nary a word about anything going on at the office, except for the occasional snide comment about the co-worker who drives us all crazy (and, once they’d started catching up with me on the number of drinks consumed, there were actual impressions.)

It was kind of nice that all the ‘right’ people came — I mean, I love my boss (we’ve been friends longer than he’s been my boss), but if he and his wife had showed up, they would have spent the entire evening standing in the corner trying not to look horrified. Even better, they were all nice enough to pretend I didn’t make a total ass of myself when I saw them today. (I don’t actually think I did make an ass of myself, but it’s rather hard to remember, exactly. Did I mention the drinking?)

And then because I’m not 20 anymore, I finally crawled out of bed … literally … at around 11 yesterday morning, and I’m not entirely convinced that I wasn’t still drunk. I don’t tend to sleep well when I’ve been drinking, and I usually have really restless dreams, the kind that involve me talking out loud and saying interesting things in my sleep that I can’t recall later. Ray says I that I woke up him by screaming, “You want the bathroom? Fine, take it, you fucking bitch! See if I care! You always get what you want!” Usually he wakes me up if I start talking in my sleep, but this time he decided to see where I went with the conversation. I think I scared him. I was certainly a bit scared when he repeated the conversation to me later (when I was awake).

The worst thing is that I kind of remember that dream, and I don’t remember anything about a bathroom. Paging Dr. Freud …

The other ever-so-slightly irritating thing is that when Ray has been drinking, his hangovers always manifest themselves the same way: he wakes up at, like, 6:30 in the morning, wide awake and energetic. I’m more of a pull-the-covers-over-my-head kind of guy. He likes to bounce around and play with the dog and poke me to get up and it would be kind of cute if the first reaction I could think of weren’t to grab the nearest pillow and beat him senseless with it (fortunately for him, it would involve moving so there’s no way it would actually happen).

So, at some point I graduated from the bed to the sofa. Following the requisite morning-after lunch of grease and anything that goes with it, we spent most of the afternoon parked on the sofa watching a lot of bad television (at one point I was seriously in danger of watching Bring It On for the 500th time … I don’t know what it is about that movie, but when I’m flipping channels and it’s on, I just get sucked in … ).

And then in the evening, we had the über-depressing triumvirate of The Departed (good, but bloody), Rome (really bloody, but we did get to see an awful lot of Allen Leech, who plays Marcus Agrippa, and for that we are very grateful. Thank you, HBO), and Battlestar Galactica (any show about the few survivors of the genocide of the human race would be a downer, but last night’s was even more depressing than usual).

And so. Today is quiet at work, which is just the sort of Monday you need after a weekend like that. And shortly, I get to go home, which makes it even better.

I hope you’re having a quiet day at home, at work, at the President’s Day sales, or wherever you happen to be…

Greece does it again …

Thursday, October 26th, 2006

Well, my ancestral countrymen have done it again: Greece has scored another victory.  This time, however, they didn’t win the Euro Cup in football — they’ve won an EU court ruling that says that only Greece (and the Greek part of Cyprus) is allowed to produce an alcoholic beverage and call it “ouzo:” Greeks toast EU ruling that ouzo belongs to them – Yahoo! News

Greece, for those who have been paying attention, previously won the right to be the only EU state allowed to produce cheese called “feta.”  Whatever it is that they’ve been producing in Denmark looks like feta, smells like feta, and crumbles like feta, but according to the EU ruling, it ain’t feta.  (Which raises the question: what is it?)  And that stuff that we get here in the states is usually from Wisconsin, and they call their product feta.  Sucks to be Denmark, I guess.  (That’s OK — the Danes still have one of the highest standards of living on earth, and they can remind the Greeks of that as often as they can.)

The question in my mind is how much of a problem ‘bootleg’ ouzo is, exactly.  Nearly every Mediterranean culture has a version of the anise-flavored liquor that’s clear when it’s pure and turns cloudy when you add water.  The Arabs call it arak, the Turks have their rakı (which is barely distinguishable from ouzo — ouzo is just an eentsy bit sweeter), and in Italy it’s a syrup called sambucca.  But I guess when you’re on a roll …

More Power, Cat

Wednesday, September 20th, 2006

I was reading the New York Times online, as I am want to do on a daily basis because it’s a hell of a lot cheaper (read: free) than getting it delivered to my front door in Round Rock, Texas, and one of the articles reached out and caught my eye. It’s called 9 Lives and Counting: Cat Power Sobers Up.

Who is this Cat Power, you ask, and why did this article catch my eye? Well, as it turns out, Ray and I went to see Cat Power (bka Chan Marshall, formerly of the Go-Gos) at Stubb’s on Sunday night. She’s a bit of a weird one, that Cat. She was with a large backing band – The Memphis Blues Rhythm Band – and she seemed a little odd on stage.

She danced around like a ballerina – one with about 3 minutes of training – and did these weird hand motions, and sang at really weird angles to the microphone that simply can not be good for someone trying to belt out tunes in her low voice (she sounds like the lead singer of Cowboy Junkies). She smoked during the performance (the truth being that Stubb’s is one of the few places in Austin where you can still get away with that), and had one of those dark brown amber bottles within close reach for most of the performance. It was definitely one of the more odd performances that I’ve ever seen – like Grace Slick odd, like at any moment she might sit down on the edge of the stage and chewing us out for letting George W. Bush get elected president.

20cat CA1

Well, this article in the New York Times sheds some light on a lot of her weird behavior (I’m sorry to have missed the show where she spent lots of time talking to a squirrel – it sounds like it would have been fun).

Painfully shy, she’s been battling depression and exhaustion, and went into rehab earlier this year. Gee, no wonder she wasn’t that chatty on stage. Who wants to introduce a song with “So, here’s one I wrote while I was going through withdrawal. It reminds me of good times”?

To her credit, Cat Power did mention at one point during the performance that the beer she was drinking was O’Doul’s (non-alcoholic) and that she’d be happy to endorse the product, in case anyone from the company happened to be in the audience.

And the performance? She was pretty good. I couldn’t sing one of her songs from memory if you asked me to, but the band was rocking and she was perfectly happy to be out there, giving it her all.

Although she might want to consider some ballerina lessons – it really is never too late to start!

 

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