Measure & Stir

A Craft Cocktail Blog for the Home Bartender that Focuses on Original Creations Drawn from Culinary Inspiration.

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Postmodernist Cuisine: Galaxy Cocktail, Mermaid Cocktail Best Hot Instagram Trends Rainbow Food Spirulina Charcoal Healthy Superfood


The hot new thing, I’m told, is Instagram, and I have been spelunking this Cthonic hellscape so that you, my readers, can spare your delicate sensibilities. Instagram food becomes a genre unto itself, because it propagates under different constraints from actual food. In meat space, food trends are driven by deliciousness, availability, and ease of reproduction, but on Instagram, they are subject only to selective pressures along the axes of color and photo composition.

In short, the idiosyncrasies of the platform establish the norms for the content it supports. As bored white collar workers on your commute, I know that you are hungry for pictures of neon pizza milkshakes, and as a social media mogul, you know that I am hungry for attention, which I quantify in likes and pageviews. Note that neither of these things will sustain us.


Photo Credit: Heston Blumenthal after he stayed up all night reading Jean Baudrillard.

I have about four seconds to grab your attention as you scroll through your feed, and in those four seconds, I have to entice you with slightly more than half a square inch of glowing pixels. You’re not going to click on something brown. Consider the garish monstrosity above, a classic example of what Instagram does to food. Does this actually look appetizing to you in any way?

Close your eyes and imagine you just got home from your job browsing facebook, fully two hours from the last time you ate an industrial simulacrum of a muffin, and you come home to this visual tour de force, poly-scintillant dye leaking mineral hues into the bread, the cheese stringy and dry from being overcooked, the bread somehow under-toasted at the same time.

Does it get your gastric juices flowing? Ah but I intuit that many of you are trying to double tap your screens.


We are all, by now, aware of the treachery of images, We know that the rainbow sandwich above, is not a sandwich in fact, but merely a picture of a sandwich. However, I claim that it is not even a picture of a sandwich, it is a picture of a dramatic portrayal of a sandwich. Regarding the subject of the photo above, there was no point in its lifecycle in which it was intended for human consumption.

That “sandwich” might be edible, but it does not constitute food. You already know this, too, because it never even occurred to you to ask: what does it taste like?


Top Instagram influencers focus test the next iteration of Soylent

I, culinary chromonaut that I am, have prepared and eaten technicolor foods, and I assure you that they all taste the same, i.e., like nothing. You may be thinking, “It’s a grilled cheese, it tastes like a grilled cheese, I didn’t wonder because I know.” You are mistaken. For various psychogustatory (term of art) reasons, it is a flavor void.

If you put red food coloring in Chardonnay, even wine experts will tell you it’s Pinot Noir. We think orange juice dyed green tastes like limeade, and we think coffee in a white mug tastes sweeter than coffee in a blue one. Long time readers of measure and stir may remember this eldritch horror. I served three completely different drinks, all colored with squid ink, and my guests could not tell the difference between them.

I’m told this is largely determined by expectation and cultural conditioning. I have no doubt that if you had been raised in a society that always only served green orange juice, and orange lime juice, your predictions and experience would be reversed. Ultimately, the source of our gastro-optical predictions does not change that we have them.

Social constructs exist because they are useful, and the fact that a norm is socially constructed in no way necessitates its malleability. Long before food dyes were used to enhance the colors of agricultural products, farmers practiced the venerable art of plant husbandry, and you can be sure that they chose to breed those plants which bore the most visually appealing fruits.


Adulterating foods to make them prettier is nothing new. French patisseries used to color their blancmange with arsenic and 16th century Germans would literally burn you alive for using yellow colorants to move counterfeit saffron.

What, intrepid reader, would they make of mermaid toast?


Vibrance Slider -> All the Way Right

I harbor no contempt for Ms. Waugh. Her creations are beautiful and she well deserves any fame, accolades, and liquor endorsement contracts she has accrued. With a couple of mini cookie cutters and a jar of Blue Majik, you, too, could hop on these hot Instagram trends. 1000 likes, here I come!

Unlike the rainbow grilled cheese, mermaid toast has no illusions. It’s toast and cream cheese and gold flakes. As with the grilled cheese, you could, technically, eat it, but then you could technically eat an airplane. Blue Majik contains twenty-two times as much iron as spinach, but your typical airplane contains one hundred metric tons. And it flies!

Tired: Blue spirulina is the new healthy superfood.
Wired: Cessna-150s are the new healthy superfood.

Many uninitiated plebs are shocked to learn that the color of their precious Campari comes from crushed up Cochineal bugs, but yes, food dyes come from surprising places. At least we stopped using red lead. Blue Majik’s marketing team claims that it is 64% protein, and that this fact, along with its nutrient density and anti-oxidant content makes it desirable. 64% protein times a 1 gram dose is, in fact, 640 mg of protein. It’s a substantial meal for a Cochineal bug, but we humans have much greater caloric needs. The health benefits of anti-oxidants are also wildly overstated.

Twenty-two times as much Iron as spinach! so maybe, uh… .05 mg in a typical dose. You’d be much better off with some Flintstones gummies, though I admit they don’t photograph well. The perennial popularity of Campari is due to its appealing red hue, and the viral success of Blue Majik is mostly due to its vibrant color. How do you sell useless “chemical” food additives to people who are aspirationally into food purity? Academic.

It costs $4 for a 4oz bottle of blue gel dye, $65 for 50g of a proprietary spirulina blend. But who cares how much it costs, it’s all about that hashtag #healthyfood. If you’re the sort of person who eats photographs smoothie bowls, you’re going to buy Blue Majik for the same reason I’m holding ethereum: #fomo.

Rainbow food isn’t real food, crypto-currency isn’t real money, and blue majik’s dubious health claims are an accent mark to its success.


Perhaps nothing exemplifies the ascendance of rainbow food more perfectly than Starbucks’ recent Unicorn Frappuccino. I promise, they did not achieve this color with blue spirulina and beet powder, and no one cares.


Photo Credit:Jacques Le Merde after she got stuck in an elevator with Matt Perger

This creation was vomited from forth from the collective unconscious of Instagram, which reached out with its glowing prismatic tendril into the minds of Starbucks’ marketing department, and used them as an avatar for its x-pro filtered thoughts.

“That looks delicious, I want one,” thought no one, ever. But one of the joys of logic is that the antecedent can be true regardless of the validity of the consequent. All marketing is about selling symbols. The signified is dead, the signifier is the only thing that matters, as reddit will attest.

No one expects symbols to point to real world objects. That kind of alignment has been gone for decades, but it took mass participatory media before we could find that consciousness in the average person. Artists and authors have known about the signifier/signified divorce since the 1950s, and their works have diffused into our culture, but the Instagram filter is the apotheosis of postmodern awareness.

We’ve been coloring our foods for much longer than we’ve been photographing them, but in the past it was always about enhancement; a greener pickle, a redder steak, a yellower saffron. The goal was to bring the manifestation of a symbol into closer alignment with its idealized form.

Rainbow food stems from an altogether different animus, from a desire to sever any link between ideal and instantiation.


Given all that, I wanted in. Whereas my mixological journey started as a quest for flavor and technique, it ended (or perhaps plateaued?) with the realization that narrative (set and setting) is the ultimate arbiter of taste and enjoyment. Aesthetic preferences are mostly fashion, loosely constrained by biology. As one wag put it, “I am not of the opinion that food has to taste good in order to be good.”


Photo Credit: Johan Moe

Mermaid Cocktail
6 oz coconut cream
1 g blue gel dye or Blue Majik or whatever
In a blender, combine ice and coconut cream. Reserve half.
Add the blue dye, and blend up the rest.
In a hurricane glass, layer the blue and white slush, and then give it one small stir.
Top it with a black coral tuile* and a pink straw.
Do not drink.

*Tastes like nothing, made by frying oily flour in more oil.

This cynical recipe is not exactly the truth. The truth is I used some rosé and simple syrup and tried to make something kind of refreshing. I actually did try blue spirulina (though not blue majik) before giving up and using gel dye. The taste was fine, but it was also incidental to the recipe. Anything that won’t spoil the color is fine.

Another popular Instagram color scheme is “Galaxy”. This consists of black, blue, white, and sometimes, purple. I did not use any purple, but I had some beet powder out in my work space, just in case.


Photo Credit: Johan Moe

Galaxy Cocktail
2 oz good amaro (or not)
2 oz white rum (or not)
1 oz lemon juice (or not)
1 oz orange juice (or not)
1 oz coffee liqueur (or not)
.5 oz simple syrup (or not)
3 oz coconut cream
1 g blue gel dye
1 tsp activated charcoal
a small dish of heavy cream
Blend half the coconut cream, rum, lemon, sugar, and blue dye together in a blender, and reserve in the freezer.
Blend the other half of the coconut cream, charcoal, amaro, and coffee liqueur.
Carefully layer in an oversize coupe glass and garnish by flicking little dabs of heavy cream on top.
Drink (or not). It tastes like sound and fury, signifying nothing.

In fact I did try with the second one (did I?) but it just didn’t matter. Nothing could punch through the overwhelming void of black and blue ice.


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How Bout Some Hot Chocolate Huh?

To be honest, I don’t have that much to say about this. Is a hot chocolate a hot toddy? It’s one of those wacky philosophy questions; irrelevant, precious, and decadent, like the Gettier Problem. I made this drink by request, since after Johan made his chocolate entremet, he had a big bowl of leftover sour cream dulcey chocolate mousse, and let’s be real, the cocoa bean is his dark master.

To make the chocolate base, we used whole non-homogenized jersey milk, and melted in chopped up feuves of Valrhona Araguani 72% and Valrhona Caramellia. To the chocolate base we added Frangelico, George Dickel Rye, and Angostura bitters. For garnish, we used a dollop of sour cream mousse, which Johan describes in pain-staking detail.


Hot Chocolate (Cocktailish Proportions)
.5 oz Rye (George Dickel)
.5 oz Frangelico
5 oz Hot chocolate milk
1 Dash Angostura Bitters
Garnish with a healthy dollop of Sour Cream Dulcey Chocolate Mousse

Remember, your drink is only as good as the worst thing you put into it. When your drink is mostly milk and chocolate, that means you need to use good milk and good chocolate.

An unfortunate quality to hot milk drinks: they seem to make the burn of strong spirits more pronounced. If you pour the booze much heavier, the drink becomes less soothing and more abrasive.

Hot Toddy Lesson Five: Use a lower ABV when lengthening with milk.


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My Toddy’s So Buddha-Licious: Rye, Buddha’s Hand, Lemon

Note: While you read this post, please bask in the glow of this early 2000s pop smash, Bootylicious by Destiny’s Child.

I know, I just did a Buddha’s Hand Cocktail, but then I realized I had an opportunity to make a drink with the best name in the history of my blog.

In last week’s post, I tried to capitalize on a complex harmony between dill, citrus, salmon, and aquavit. For this hot toddy, I wanted to get back to the essence of the Buddha’s Hand. At its heart, a hot toddy is pretty close to a classic punch, but with the “weak” element heated. Your classic punch is 1 part sour, 2 parts sweet, 3 parts strong, 4 parts weak. This is usually rendered as lime juice, simple syrup, rum, and water, but if you make that drink, it doesn’t feel quite right:

1-2-3-4 punch?
.5 oz lime
1 oz simple syrup
1.5 oz rum
2 oz water

After shaking with ice, you can expect your 3 oz cocktail to gain about 2 oz of water. Personally though, I prefer .75 oz of lime, and .5 oz of sugar, for a 1.5-1-3-4 sort of ratio. Well, times and tastes changes. Anyway, all of this is a long lead up to say that a classic punch is usually made with an oleo saccharum, and in this instance, the classic punch ratio ended up being perfect. Perhaps oleo saccharum isn’t as sweet as 1:1 simple syrup?

toddysobuddhalicious Please note that the rosemary above was completely decorative, sandwiched in between two separable glass pieces in the unique serving vessel that we found for this drink. A stemless cocktail glass sits snugly inside a glass bowl, insulated by a layer of air. Not only is this perfect for keeping your drink warm, but it has a bulbous shape that reminded me of a laughing Buddha. Of course, one of these Buddha Tiki Mugs would be even better.

My Toddy’s So Buddha-Licious
1.5 oz rye (Dickel)
1 oz Dilled Buddha’s Hand Oleo Saccharum
.5 oz lemon juice
Top with 2 oz boiling water and float a single star anise inside.

As you will recall, the Buddha’s hand oleo from last week had some dill in it, but by the time I made this drink a couple days later, the dill flavor had mellowed substantially. I chose rye to further blur the flavor of dill in the drink, a job it did admirably owing to its pickley notes. Lemon flavor is similar enough to Buddha’s hand that it can play a supporting role, while leaving the oily fragrance of its lead to be the star.

This drink captured the flavor of Buddha’s hand with a lot of purity. In a way, it tasted like an idealized Buddha’s hand might, if only the fruit had flesh to go with its unctuous skin.

I got away from winter spices this week, which allowed us to focus on the core composition of this style. Hot Toddy Lesson Four: A toddy is a classic punch.

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The Last Word Ice Cream Sundae

I made this in collaboration with my friend Johan from Moedern Kitchen, and this content is cross-posted there.

last word sundae 2

This is not my first foray into the world of cocktail-inspired ice creams. My first was not up to snuff, and never made it to the web. My second was Mai Tai Soft Serve, which you may remember. Today, I am proud to share an ice cream Sundae inspired by one of my favorite classic cocktails, the Last Word. This drink is famous among cocktail enthusiasts, and as a Seattlite, it has a special place in my heart, since it was re-popularized in the modern cocktail renaissance by our very own Murray Stenson.

To make this ice cream sundae, we wanted to do something ambitious. It’s easy to get carried away when dealing with modernist techniques, and I think you will find that we did not exercise any restraint at all.

Just to review, the last word is a drink composed of equal parts:

The Last Word
3/4 oz London Dry Gin
3/4 oz Maraschino Liqueur
3/4 oz Green Chartreuse
3/4 oz Fresh Lime Juice

The green Chartreuse is really the key to this drink, as it is the source of its unique flavor. Even so, the combination and the balance are such that every element is a first class citizen. We went through several iterations before we settled upon this arrangement. What is the right way to marry an ingredient to a preparation? I confess I do not have any formal method for making these decisions.

The base of an ice cream sundae is the ice cream, and for that reason, it seemed fitting to use the base spirit of the drink, which in this case is London dry gin. As I have noted before, actual spirits do not come through strongly when added to an ice cream base. We can achieve much more flavorful results by using the root flavors of the spirit, rather than the spirit itself. To make a London dry gin ice cream, we used a hint of gin, but we steeped coriander, orange peel, and juniper berries into the cream. I don’t have the exact ratio, but this will get you pretty close. Note that we use the same base recipe as in Johan’s licorice ice cream.

last word sundae 1

London Dry Gin Ice Cream
650g Whole Milk
225g Sugar
200g Egg Yolks
150g Heavy Cream
50ml London Dry Gin

Before combining the ingredients to make the ice cream, infuse the milk with gin botanicals. In a pan, toast up 2 tbsp of coriander seeds and 2 tbsp of juniper berries, until the oil starts to bloom on the juniper. When the berries are shiny, drop all of the spices into the milk, and gently heat on a stovetop for fifteen minutes along with one fat orange peel, trimmed of pith, then strain.

A good ice cream sundae should contain many layers and textures. Moreover, the last word, although quite spiritous, is a citrus-driven drink. It needs to the acidity and the punch of fresh sour lime juice. To achieve this end, we made a lime juice curd using this lemon curd recipe from chefsteps, subbing lemon for lime, and omitting the gelatin. I cannot stress this last point enough. In our first attempt, we used the optional gelatin suggested in the recipe, and wound up with a disgusting congealed mass.

For the maraschino, we made a zabaione, which Johan called by some incomprehensible Norwegian name (eggedosis) that he will probably edit in here.

Maraschino Zabaione
3 Large Egg Yolks
100 ml Heavy Cream
Sugar and Marschino to Taste
Integrate using a mixer (or a whisk, if you want to work on those arms), and load into an iSi whipping cannister. Charge it up and shake it.

For the green chartreuse, we made a fluid gel. Modernist techniques often feel like solutions in search of a problem, but in this case, a chartreuse gel was exactly the thing. We adapted this recipe from chefsteps as well, substituting fresh orange juice with green chartreuse, and omitting the citric acid. The texture and mouthfeel was unusual, but it felt very at home in a sundae, filling in the same space where one might otherwise find chocolate fudge sauce.

At this point, we had all of the elements, and a variety of soft viscosities, but a sundae also needs crunch, contrast, and texture. To this end, we repeated some of the flavors, and expanded on others. Ice cream wants some kind of cookie or crumble, and we opted to use two.

The first was a cinnamon shortbread, which we crumbled up and used as the bottom layer. I used this recipe from Serious Eats.

Cinnamon Shortbread
9 ounces (about 1 3/4 cup) all-purpose flour
8 ounces (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened, plus a little more for greasing the pan
3 1/2 ounces (about 1/2 cup) confectioners’ sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
A healthy outpouring of ground cinnamon.

Don’t overmix the cinnamon in the shortbread, in order to create a marbled effect. I don’t know how much I used, but you’ll know it’s right when you see it. Cinnamon may seem like an odd addition to the dessert, but it complements and expands on the cinnamon flavor that is present in green chartreuse. It does not repeat perfectly, but it does rhyme.

The second cookie was a tuile, which also came from Serious Eats.

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons (4 1/4 ounces) sugar
1/2 cup (1 3/4 ounces) sifted cake flour
2 large egg whites
3/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 stick (2 ounces) unsalted butter, melted

We integrated this, allowed it to cool, then spread it into a thin layer on a silpat using an offset spatula, and baked it at 176 C until it was just brown all over, about 12 minutes. For the final plating, we just shattered it into pieces.

In addition to cookie textures, we added a couple of soft and chewy elements. The first was dried sweetened pineapple, compressed with a citrusy new age gin called Uncle Val’s Botanical. To make this, we bought dried sweetened pineapple chunks in bulk from a supermarket, and compressed them in a chamber vac with a shot of gin. The longer you leave them sealed in the bag, the softer they get. We let ours sit for about two hours before draining them. They kept in a jar for quite a while afterwards, and had the texture of soft gummy candy. We chose pineapple because it pairs wonderfully with lime, maraschino, and green chartreuse, but in truth, the pineapple was mostly covered by the gin.

Finally, we topped it with falooda seeds soaked in a mixture of London dry gin and water. These are popular in some asian and Indian desserts, and they have the amazing property that they will soak up any liquid in which they rest. They are sometimes colloquially called frogs eggs, but they have a similar texture to modernist caviar made with sodium alginate. Since they soaked up a little gin, they were the perfect vehicle to give a tiny boozy kick to the dessert, which was otherwise lacking.

The composition of the sundae was as follows, from top to bottom:

  • Gin-Soaked Falooda
  • Tuile Pieces
  • Maraschino Zabaione
  • Green Chartreuse Fluid Gel
  • London Dry Gin Ice Cream
  • Lime Curd
  • Citrus Gin-Compressed Pineapple
  • Cinnamon Short Bread Crumbles
  • Served in a Cocktail Glass

This was a lot of work, but the result was something truly special.


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Seventh Inning Stretch: Root Beer, Bourbon, Salted Peanuts, Oksusucha

It’s getting cold again, and that means its time for my favorite family of mixed drinks: the hot toddy. What is a hot toddy, exactly? For me it’s a feeling you get when it’s rainy and cold outside, and you bring a glass of steaming, aqueous whiskey to your lips. When it’s done right, it warms you to your core.

And yet, the recipe is flexible. At its most essential, it consists of lemon, sugar, whiskey, and boiling water. That is a decent hot toddy all on its own, but it can be a bit plain. When I make it that way, I grate fresh cinnamon and nutmeg over the top, and garnish with a fatty orange peel.

Today, I wanted to do something a little different.


This is baseball-inspired hot toddy that I threw together on a whim. This follows my standard hot toddy formulation, which I will be expositing for you at some length over the next few posts.

We start with a base spirit, and I chose to use Bourbon, because it is the all-American choice. I wish I could say it went deeper than that.

In order to evoke the theme of baseball, I made a root beer syrup by boiling star anise, cloves, and sassafras in a syrup made with 1 cup of water, 3/4 cup of white sugar, and 1/2 cup of brown sugar. Brown sugar is not as sweet as white, but the syrup is still a little rich this way. I finished the syrup with citric acid, to balance the sweetness.

In order to evoke popcorn, I lengthened this drink with 옥수수차 (Oksusucha) — Korean roasted corn tea. It doesn’t taste quite like popcorn, but it hits the right notes and joins the bourbon’s corn flavors to the sassafras’ herbaceousness.

To finish it off, I rimmed the toasted peanuts, ground with salt and sugar to taste. I admit the rim was a little sloppy, but the oily peanut clumped in a way that was difficult to work with. Drying this powder out, either by letting it sit out uncovered, or (maybe? by mixing it with a bit of tapioca maltodextrin) would probably help it form a more consistent coating. Even so, it was delicious.


Seventh Inning Stretch
1.5 oz Vanilla-infused Bourbon
.5 oz Root Beer Syrup*
4 oz 옥수수차 (Oksusucha)
Salt peanut rim
Build the drink in a mug, finishing with still near-boiling oksusucha.

Root Beer Syrup
1 cup water
3/4 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 tsp sassafras bark
1 tsp star anise
5 or 6 cloves
Bring to a boil, then simmer for ten minutes, then strain. Finish with 1 tsp of powdered citric acid.

When the drink was still piping hot, it had a bland flavor and alcohol burn. Once it cooled down to a comfortable temperature, the flavor was a bit muddy on the sip, but with pleasant roasty corn notes that gave way to a medium-bodied root beer finish. As the drink cooled, it became a little too sweet.

Hot Toddy Lesson One: pay close attention to your serving temperature. There is a perfect window, and you need to find it.



Mai Tai Soft Serve Ice Cream

Hey guys, I hope you’ve been staying cool this summer. Me? I’ve been keeping it -196C with some homemade ice creams and a dewar of LN2. I’ve been especially interested in making small batch ice creams out of some of my favorite classic cocktails.

For my first foray into the world of the glacier, I tried to render a Mai Tai into frozen dairy, and the results were sweet and refreshing.

mai tai icecream

I used this Chefsteps soft serve recipe as my base, and unto this, I added the flavors of a classic Mai Tai; rum, orange liqueur, orgeat syrup, and lime.

Obviously, you can’t pour a bunch of lime juice into sugar and milk, so getting the lime flavor just right was the biggest challenge in producing this dessert. Instead of lime juice, I used essential lime oil, and a little bit of grated lime zest.

Moreover, I have learned in previous experiments that even highly reduced spirits do not stand up to the bold flavors of milk and cream. My approach, therefore, is to add strongly flavored oils and essences to the ice cream base instead, to mimic the flavors of my desired cocktail ingredients. Orange oil is much more effective than cointreau; juniper berries and coriander seeds steeped in milk will convey a much bolder flavor of gin than gin itself.

I chose to use a soft serve base because I wanted this to be a lighter ice cream, and because I was afraid the flavor of the custard would stomp on the already complex tapestry of the Mai Tai. To amp up the rummy flavor, I replaced the white sugar in the base recipe with Demerara sugar, to mimic the flavor of the rum. The end result still didn’t have enough rum flavor, (a good mai tai makes rum the hero) so I ended up serving the final output in a cocktail glass floating on top of a little El Dorado 12.

Also, and I cannot stress this enough, garnish it with a spring of mint. A Mai Tai without mint barely qualifies. Smack the mint in your hand and slap it all around the interior of the glass before you nestle it on top of that ice cream. Yeah girl.

Mai Tai Soft Serve Base
225 g Whole Milk
100 g Demerara Sugar
95 g Heavy cream
12 g Nonfat dry milk powder
3.5 g Salt

1 TBSP Torani Orgeat Syrup
A small splash each of essential lime and orange oils
Grated Zest of 3 small limes
375 ml Dark Rum
50 ml Cointreau

Reduce the Rum and Cointreau on a simmer down to 100ml total, stir everything together, and allow the mixture to chill in the refrigerator for at least two hours. Then make it into ice cream using an ice cream maker or a stand mixer, LN2, and a blowtorch. Obviously, I favor the technique that lets you play with the most dangerous toys.

Stay frosty.

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Fourth of July Cocktail: Make America Flow Again

This is just a quick, four-day-late post to talk about my 4th of July drink. This one was shot gonzo-style (i.e., on my phone), served to a large crowd, and primarily about image. So basically, it was just like politics. Independence day is all about the red, white, and blue, so I decided to bring back that old resort classic, the Lava Flow, and garnish it with an attention-grabbing comb-over of blue sanding sugar.


And honestly, that’s all there is to it. We had initially tried rimming the glass with blue sugar, but with this style of glass, that did not provide the density that I desired for maximum visual impact. Sprinkling blue sugar on top proved to be both more striking and simpler to execute.

For the puree, I blended a cup of raspberries, a cup of strawberries, and ~6 oz of raspberry jam, and stored the puree in a squeeze bottle. This produced both a richness of flavor and a thick viscosity, ideal for coating the outside of clear plastic party cups.

for the smoothie, we used compressed pineapple, made in my friend Johan’s chamber vac. It didn’t affect the final drink in any noticeable way, but it signaled our molecularly gastronomic values. The plating was the most interesting part of this drink, I am sure you will agree.

Make America Flow Again
3/4 Cup of compressed pineapple
8 oz light rum (Bacardi)
4 oz Trader Joe’s Coconut Cream
3 oz lime juice
2 oz simple syrup (1:1)
2 Cups of ice
Blend it up, and pour it into a clear glass with red stripes of berry puree. Top with blue sanding sugar.

All of the above measurements are approximations, except the rum/lime/sugar. Perhaps ironically, I never measure my smoothies.

The most frustrating thing about this drink is that it tastes better if you swirl it all together, and that completely ruins the aesthetics. Personally I’d rather preserve its beauty, but most guests opted for the stir. Populism vs. elitism, I guess.

Happy (belated) fourth.