A Kentucky Bourbon Mule combines the best parts of a Moscow mule (tart and spicy juices!) with the depth of bourbon and freshness of mint.
As I mentioned in our last post, the weather here in Houston has been downright beastly. Conditions that make you hesitate before you venture somewhere that isn’t air conditioned. Unless it’s outside to grab a handful of mint to make these delightful Kentucky Bourbon Mules!
My introduction to the mule (albeit the Moscow variety) came at my sister’s wedding. It was their signature cocktail, and while I’d seen the drink on various menus, I’d never ordered one as I’m not too much of vodka drinker. Well that was my mistake. They were great! The tartness of the lime, the spiciness of the ginger beer, and of course, the inhibition neutralizing vodka, come together for one refreshing beverage. (I even danced.)
But the Kentucky bourbon mule came later…
These boozy popsicle mimosas (poptails!), served in a glass of sparkling wine, are like: Hello inner child. Have a drink.
Here’s a conundrum for you: summer weather makes me crave refreshing treats. Frosty cocktails seem like the perfect way to chill out. Yet the hot weather warms up my cold drink.
But (first world) problems are the mother of invention. How do you keep that mimosa from getting luke-warm and less-than-refreshing? You could add ice, I guess, but that waters down the drink. Um, ridiculous. No, the answer is something similar but far superior. And just downright super fun.
Boozy popsicle mimosas…or poptails, if you prefer.
Lemon basil gimlets: the only summer cocktail you’ll ever need.
To all you thirsty readers, searching for the perfect drink to slake your summertime thirst, your quest is over. This lemon basil gimlet is the recipe you’ve been looking for. Don’t believe us? We dare you to mix up a batch, and step outside on a hot day, and not declare this drink perfect and refreshing.
Ok, perhaps that’s a little too cocky, but we love this drink so much that we REALLY want everyone to try it. So as a personal favor to us, please stop what you’re doing and go get some lemons and basil.
You can tell your boss we excused you.
The origin of this drink traces back to 2005. Liz and I were dating at the time, and I had flown up to Portland to visit her over the summer. The last night I was there, we went out to dinner at Pok Pok. By now, Pok Pok has established a small empire of restaurants and bars spanning the country, but back then, it was just one of Liz’s favorite Thai restaurants. This may be the only occasion that we tried a place before it hit the big time (adjusts hipster glasses and suspenders). Regardless, it was a great dinner, and the first time I had seen lemon and basil combined in a drink. Sadly, we weren’t old enough to order cocktails, but the basil lemonade they offered made a huge impression on me. The flavors were just perfect, and it was extremely refreshing. And apparently I couldn’t shut up about, because when my mom spotted a recipe for lemon-basil syrup two years later, she remembered me talking about the drink, and keyed me in.
This spicy paloma is easy to make with a little jalapeno simple syrup, or a pepper-infused tequila – plus it goes down super smooth with any Mexican food!
I meant to post this earlier. Alas, life.
This was a crazy busy week for me. In fact, I am currently writing this post on a layover at the St. Louis airport. But I can’t complain – good to have a job, even if sometimes people tell me I “look tired.”
But you know what this week needs? I know. Because I just spent the last 15 minutes walking around the St. Louis airport looking for it.
This shouldn’t be hard, ya know? Airports always have plenty of spots to purchase overpriced booze. (In fact, this same trip educated me that in Kansas City, for the low low price of $7.79, you can purchase a bottle of beer and WALK AROUND THE ENTIRE AIRPORT WHILE DRINKING IT. Does that happen at any other city in the United States?) (No I’m honestly asking…)
And yet, somehow, my mission was quite difficult in St. Louis. There were two brewpubs in my terminal, and while I am normally all about the beer, I was in such a tequila mood that I questioned their acceptability for a layover. (Have I mentioned it’s been a long week? Don’t judge me.)
Irish Coffee with Bailey’s Whipped Cream is hot, cool, bitter, and sweet: an all-around perfect drink.
My junior year of college, I studied abroad in Ireland. It was amazing and beautiful and generally good craic.
I don’t think I ever drank Irish coffee in Ireland.
I can’t say why. Recent research leads me to believe that Irish coffee IS actually made and served in Ireland (unlike, say, the Irish carbomb, which seems to be delicious yet extremely American). And I have since learned to love the Irish coffee. But it was only post-Ireland that they really came into my life. This, obviously, disappoints me.
I can say I’ve had Irish coffee. I can’t say I’ve had Irish Irish coffee. Different? Maybe, maybe not. But I always like to add adjectives when I can.
Am I allowed to say it’s an Irish Irish coffee when I make it, and I am, in part, Irish? Close enough?