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Brian Dressel and Bill Norris are to be thanked for swooping in and offering locals and visitors alike a respectable haven from both the allures and threats of sixth street night life. The interior speaks of a boy's club of the likes of Mad Men - dark, plush leather booths, a heavy dose of printed wall paper, dark wooden floors still ripe of stain, and minimal lighting - let's not neglect the only mention of food - a sausage to table program available upon request... After buzzing in and being escorted to your table you are offered simple paper menus. Be prepared to read so that you might make an informed order. If busy, tables are limited to two hour stays so do make the most of it. Simple rules are stated - no cell phones, nothing illegal, and don't get too frollicky.
After much debating, I tried the "lovebirds" and "joe buck" house drinks. Lovebirds really shines with sparkling rosé, tequila, and bright notes of watermelon-taragon. All drinks come in traditional and appropriate glasses. Our server was handsome and appropriately thoughtful and reserved, but I must admit another server did not seem dressed or prepared to play the part of the dedicated mixologist proprietor, so much so that I was convinced someone snuck in off the street to play what would have been a hilarious trick.
The drinks were top-rate - gorgeous pairings, rich scents, boozy, and easy to get to know. I think I may be craving more fantasy from my trip to Midnight Cowboy... candlelight? A discreet live singer whispering a lamentful tune? Should all the drinks be prepared at table? Please make no mistake, I enjoyed my evening, perhaps its success lies in its ability to create longing in its guests - a yearning to have more of the same - drinks worth toasting and the quiet conversations they stir.
Brian Murphy: Shhhhh! Is that the ghost of J.S. Giguere sharpening his blade?
Legend has it the ghost of Jean-Sebastien Giguere haunts the south goal crease of Xcel Energy Center, and that you can hear the bygone bogeyman sharpening his stick like a scythe whenever an opposing netminder bores into the Minnesota Wild’s psyche.
Jake Allen is no Jiggy, who tormented the Wild with three shutouts during Anaheim’s four-game sweep in the 2003 Western Conference Finals, but the plucky Blues goalie is this close to becoming Minnesota’s 2017 grim reaper after his spectacular 51-save performance secured St. Louis’ 2-1 overtime victory in Game 1 of this already captivating quarterfinal series.
There is a fine line between the Wild granting Allen his due and allowing him to cast a spell over their stymied shooters. One heartbreaking loss does not constitute a debilitating crisis, despite the predictable social media angst spewing from an understandably fatalistic fan base.
Now, if Allen is an octopus again in Game 2 Friday night and the Wild squeeze their sticks into sawdust on the bench, call your shrink.
“I don’t think he’s in our head,” center Eric Staal insisted Thursday, barely 12 hours after the Wild were victimized at midnight. ““We’re just going to continue to do what we do.
“I think we’re going to get some breaks around the net. He made some good saves. He played well. I think if we continue to do what we do, get around that net, play the way we can, we’re going to get something, for sure.”
The Wild were not just stating the obvious to maintain appearances. Their confidence is genuine, and it should be.
Minnesota monopolized the puck, tilted the ice and produced a week’s worth of quality scoring chances over four periods of electrifying play.
“The key is not to let them get too down,” coach Bruce Boudreau said. “I do think we played a pretty good game. It was a real man’s game, battles everywhere out there. But it’s one of those games that could have gone either way.”
Fragility doomed the Wild during the Mike Yeo era, so it was ironic that the half-season Blues coach reaped the rewards of his team’s steely resolve in the face of Minnesota’s relentless pressure.
Meanwhile, the Wild reported for duty Thursday “ticked off,” according to Boudreau.
“I don’t think they were, ‘Oh, woe is me’-type thing. Just let’s get back at it, and let’s go.”
Boudreau, on notice to exorcise his own playoff demons, struck a note of self-deprecation at the end of his news conference when he was asked whether the Wild were healthy.
“As far as I know,” he said. “Mentally, I’m a basket case.”
Losing home ice advantage will do that. Still, the Wild are not in free fall. Not yet, anyway. They do not have to make any wholesale repairs to their well-tuned engine.
They jammed the accelerator from the opening face-off and did not let up for more than 58 minutes, forcing overtime with 22.7 seconds remaining on Zach Parise’s gut-check goal with Devan Dubnyk on the bench for an extra attacker.
Sure, they need to battle through the Blues’ unapologetic dragnet to pounce on Allen’s generous rebounds and finish around the net. And the Wild cannot expect to just flip the switch and dominate again without putting in the work.
The only way to chill a hot goaltender is to keep the heat on full blast.
“It’s going to be a test of will,” defenseman Ryan Suter said. “You’ve just got to stick with your game plan. You can’t deviate from what you’re doing. Just keep going.”
Teams can preach day and night about discipline, puck control and playing as a five-man unit, but playoff series always seem to pivot on a goaltender stealing a game or two. Allen took the loot in Game 1, and the Blues were sheepishly counting it the day after.
“Jake was unbelievable I think everybody knows that,” said captain Alex Pietrangelo. “Got away with a win there.”
Allen’s play was merely a continuation of his late-season surge.
He was 16-7-2 with a .938 save percentage and three shutouts after Yeo took over in early February, when Allen was mired in a six-game losing streak. That included a 2-1 victory March 5 at Xcel Energy Center.
Fourteen years ago, Giguere and his Michelin Man pads shattered the Wild’s confidence and their Cinderella slippers during an historic postseason in which he set an overtime playoff shutout streak of 168 minutes, 27 seconds.
TM Happy Hour: A Classic Gin Cocktail
Bill Norris, of Alamo Drafthouse and Midnight Cowboy, pours one out for the Pegu Club, the beloved New York cocktail mecca that has permanently closed in the wake of COVID-19.
Often referred to as Austin’s father of craft cocktails, Bill Norris has been slinging clever concoctions to slake the thirst of his customers for nearly two decades. As the beverage director for Alamo Drafthouse and its more than forty locations, he has also developed numerous associated bar concepts, including Austin’s award-winning Midnight Cowboy. Norris is the latest bartender to participate in Texas Monthly‘s summertime video series, TM Happy Hour, with new installments from some of the state’s best bartenders every Friday through mid-August. With Texas bars closed right now in the fight against COVID-19, we are also promoting each mixologist’s charity of choice. Norris references the Alamo Family Fund, which has distributed more than $750,000 to members of the Alamo hospitality staff since the start of the pandemic.
Offering a nod to one of New York’s stalwart cocktail meccas, the Pegu Club, which recently closed its doors permanently in the wake of the coronavirus turmoil, Norris has selected the eponymous cocktail. “The Pegu Club’s reach and importance can’t be overstated,” he says. “Its alums are a who’s who of the contemporary cocktail world none of us would be here without the work owner Audrey Saunders and her team did over the years.”
The Pegu Club
3/4 ounces fresh lime juice
3/4 ounces orange curaçao, such as Pierre Ferrand Dry Curaçao or Grand Marnier (something with a cognac or brandy base works best, but in a pinch—or a global pandemic—Cointreau or similar will work too).
2 ounces of a traditional London dry–style gin
1 dash angostura bitters
1 dash orange bitters
Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice and shake hard for at least 10 seconds. This drink is best very cold. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with a slice or wheel of lime.
A New Cocktail from Midnight Cowboy
The Austin speakeasy’s updated menu, themed around the art of conversation, features the striking Paradox.
Amid Sixth Street’s bluster and noise, Austin’s clandestine Midnight Cowboy (313 E. Sixth 512-843-2715) enables civilized discourse. The reservations-only speakeasy has even themed its new menu after the art of conversation (the Icebreaker, the Awkward Pause). General manager Tacy Rowland’s recommendation, the Paradox, is a dry, bitter, and lightly smoky spring sipper. Says Rowland, “It’s an adventurous study in appealing contrasts.” Now, that’s a talker.
1½ ounces Campari
1 ounce orange juice
½ ounce blended Scotch
1 dash hopped grapefruit bitters
2 ounces framboise lambic
Shake all but lambic for 4 seconds with ice, then strain over one large ice cube into a double-old-fashioned glass. Top with lambic stir gently to combine.
‘Midnight Cowboy’ and the very dark horse its makers rode in on
The director was coming off a flop and coming out of the closet. The producer’s wife had taken the kids and left him. The screenwriter, whose career had been ruined by the blacklist, was scraping by writing second-rate schlock. The lead actors seemed all wrong for their roles. The Polish cinematographer had never shot a feature before and was learning English as fast as he could. By the time the movie finished shooting, the studio chiefs were so mad at the filmmakers for going over budget that they were barely speaking to them.
Sometimes it takes a bunch of misfits to make a masterpiece, which is what happened 35 years ago when “Midnight Cowboy” became a Hollywood sensation, not to mention the only X-rated movie to win the Oscar for best picture. “Midnight Cowboy” was more than an underdog it was the longshot of a lifetime -- John Schlesinger, the film’s director, was so convinced it would be ignored on Oscar night that he didn’t even bother to show up. A cautious institution even in the best of times, the Academy Awards at the end of the 1960s was only dimly aware of the ferment that was transforming the culture outside Hollywood. The year before “Midnight Cowboy” won, the best picture had gone to “Oliver!”
Though 1969 spawned a host of daring breakthrough films, including “The Wild Bunch,” “Easy Rider,” “Medium Cool” and “Bob & Ted & Carol & Alice,” none qualified as best picture nominees, an honor reserved for more traditional fare, such as “Hello, Dolly!” and “Anne of the Thousand Days.” The odds-on favorite for best picture was “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” Early on awards night, “Butch Cassidy” director George Roy Hill put his arm around “Midnight Cowboy” producer Jerome Hellman. “Don’t feel bad,” Hill told him, feeling gracious. “My people tell me we’re going to win, but I want to congratulate you anyway. You made a good little movie.”
By night’s end, “Midnight Cowboy” had not only won the grand prize, but a best director Oscar for Schlesinger and a best adapted screenplay Oscar for Waldo Salt. “I was so sure we weren’t going to win I didn’t even prepare a speech,” Hellman recalls. “I probably only said 10 words. It must’ve been the shortest speech in the history of the Oscars. I didn’t thank John [Schlesinger] or the actors or my mother or father. All I remember is going to the Governors Ball and seeing [screenwriter] Ernie Lehman, who ran up to me and said, ‘Tonight, you’re the king.’ It was just one of those special times when the academy somehow recognizes greatness.”
Coming in the same year that saw Woodstock, the Manson murders, Altamont and the Chicago Seven conspiracy trial, “Midnight Cowboy’s” box-office success and subsequent Oscar triumph signaled the stirrings of a generational upheaval in Hollywood. Seen from the vantage point of today’s risk-averse studio system, “Midnight Cowboy” seems more exotic than ever, a film that symbolizes the burst of creative energy that brought Hollywood into a tumultuous new era.
Cult circuit to cinema classic
Published in 1965, James Leo Herlihy’s “Midnight Cowboy” was an obscure novel about the unlikely friendship between a New York street hustler, Ratso Rizzo, and a Texas dishwasher, Joe Buck, who’d come to the Big Apple to make a killing as a stud servicing sex-starved society women. It hardly seemed like movie material, even though the book had become something of a cult item -- Jon Voight recalls reading it when he was doing summer stock and, most importantly, Schlesinger was a huge fan.
Schlesinger’s interest gave the book a special cachet. In the mid-1960s, the English filmmaker was at the cusp of greatness, having directed two much-praised pictures, “Billy Liar” and “Darling,” that made Julie Christie a star and captured the new spirit of pop Britannia. So when Schlesinger phoned Hellman and asked if he’d produce, Hellman jumped at the chance.
“The book had a lot of things against it too, especially the sequences of very direct homo-eroticism, but it was a very powerful story,” Hellman recalls. “John and I had a very candid conversation -- I knew he was gay, but hadn’t come out -- and he made it clear he didn’t want to make a gay movie out of it, that he saw it as an oddball love story.”
Hellman bought the book rights and took them to United Artists, where he’d made a film previously. United Artists was a shrewd choice for a difficult project. The Miramax of its day, having made projects including James Bond films, Bergman movies and the Beatles’ “A Hard Day’s Night,” it was a studio renowned for its willingness to work with gifted artists on risky material. Like Hellman, UA’s production chief, David Picker, was a Schlesinger fan. He flew to London, met with the director and put up $1 million to make the picture.
That was the end of things going smoothly. Schlesinger and Hellman auditioned a number of writers, including Gore Vidal, who told them the book was rubbish, saying, “I did it all in ‘The City and the Pillar’ years ago -- why don’t you make that instead?” They eventually hired Jack Gelber, an off-Broadway playwright who dropped out after doing a lackluster first draft, telling Hellman that “the movie will never work if Ratso Rizzo has to limp.”
Looking for a replacement, Hellman was willing to cast a wide net, which is how he met Salt, a screenwriter who’d been in eclipse for years. He’d graduated from Stanford at age 18 and been the youngest writer on the Metro lot in the late 1930s. But he’d also been a proud member of the Communist Party. Salt was writing “The Crimson Pirate” for Burt Lancaster and producer Harold Hecht when he was called to testify in 1951 before the House Un-American Activities Committee.
After he was named as a Communist, Hecht promptly fired him. Blacklisted for the next decade, his marriage fell apart, he drank heavily and struggled to make ends meet, writing for TV under the pseudonym of M.L. Davenport. In the mid-1960s he finally landed a job under his real name, hired by none other than Hecht, the man Salt’s daughter, actress Jennifer Salt, describes as “his nemesis and his savior.” In 1968, Salt’s agent, George Litto, who’d been loaning him money to keep him afloat, insisted that Hellman read 30 pages of a new script Salt was writing. Hellman was astounded -- it had all of the staccato rhythms and soulful spirit he wanted for “Midnight Cowboy.”
Hellman still vividly recalls the man who showed up the next day in his office, a man who only a year before had been so depressed about his career prospects that he’d threatened to jump out of his apartment window. “Waldo was beaten up -- his nose had no bridge left, as if it had been punched a bunch of times. He looked more like a longshoreman than a Hollywood screenwriter.” Quick-witted and articulate, Salt had already written a detailed memo about his adaptation plans. Hellman sent Salt’s memo to Schlesinger, who replied by telegram: “Hire him and start work at once.”
For Salt, who went on to write “Serpico” and win an Oscar for writing “Coming Home” before his death in 1987, “Midnight Cowboy” was a shot at redemption. “He’d been taking all these crappy jobs for films he took no pride in when along comes this movie that’s the real deal,” recalls Jennifer Salt, who ended up playing a key part in “Cowboy’s” flashback scenes and moved in with Voight during filming. “He was just full of excitement and energy, working with people that had faith in him.”
Soon-to-be-stars in alignment
Hellman already had one actor in mind to star in the film. When Gelber began work on the script, he’d sent Hellman to see an off-Broadway British farce called “Eh?” that starred Dustin Hoffman, then an unknown, as a Liverpudlian foreman of a boiler room. “I remember going to see ‘Hard Day’s Night’ about a dozen times to get the accent right,” Hoffman recalls. “I got a big write-up from Walter Kerr in the New York Times, who compared me to Buster Keaton, which was great, although I had to go and see a Keaton film to figure out what he was talking about.”
By the time “Midnight Cowboy” was ready to go into production, “The Graduate” had arrived. But like many off-Broadway actors of his era, Hoffman felt ambivalent about celebrity. “The truth was, I saw ‘The Graduate’ as a setback, because I was determined not to be a star,” he explains. For him, Ratso Rizzo was the very sort of grimy character role that might dispel the idea emanating from some “Graduate” reviews that Hoffman, as he puts it, was simply “some nebbish [Mike] Nichols had found who was like Benjamin Braddock.”
Hoffman desperately wanted to work with Schlesinger. The question was whether Schlesinger wanted to work with him. Having seen Hoffman only as a rich preppy in “The Graduate,” the director needed some convincing. Hoffman had spent a lot of time with his scruffy acting pals Gene Hackman and Robert Duvall, drinking coffee at 2 a.m. at a seedy 42nd Street automat frequented by Ratso-like bums (“We didn’t call them homeless people then”). When Schlesinger met him there one night, he found Hoffman in character, with a three-day beard, disheveled clothes and a Bowery accent. After a few minutes Schlesinger told him, “Why Dustin, you do fit right in.”
Voight didn’t have it so easy. Unknown outside the theater world, he had to do a screen test opposite Hoffman with several other actors, including Michael Sarrazin. At first, Schlesinger thought Voight was wrong for the part, saying he looked like a blond Dutch boy. Sarrazin got the role, but when his agent held out for more money, Hellman was so infuriated that he slammed down the phone and persuaded Schlesinger to look at the audition tapes again. After watching Voight again, Schlesinger said, “The more I see these tests, we may have been spared a terrible fate. I think Jon is our cowboy.”
Voight vividly recalls that after Hellman told him Sarrazin got the part, “I was crushed. I felt sick to my stomach. I walked around like a wounded animal for a week.” Then he heard that Schlesinger might want to talk again. He went out for some groceries and on his way back, in the rain, he ran into a homeless ex-boxer who lived in the neighborhood. He bought him a bottle of Scotch and made him a sandwich at his apartment and told him he was waiting for a phone call that might change his life.
“It took the pressure off me,” Voight recalls. “This guy had it a lot worse than me, so I felt a lot more at ease.” When Schlesinger called and asked to meet, Voight and the old boxer did a victory dance in the apartment. “I ran out and left him with a tuna-fish sandwich and the Scotch and told him, ‘Don’t go out in the rain, but if you have to, here’s a coat.’ ” When Voight got the part, full of youthful bravado, he told Schlesinger, “You made the right decision -- I’m going to be terrific.” For his ticket to stardom, he received $17,500.
Before filming began in New York, Hoffman and Voight spent weeks in rehearsals, improvising scenes with Salt, who would tape the sessions on a Wallensack reel-to-reel recorder and weave them into the script. The relationship between Hoffman and Voight was as complicated as the relationship between their characters. Voight and Hoffman were creatures of 1960s off-Broadway, where artistic purity was held in far higher esteem than the blandishments of Hollywood.
They were also intensely competitive. Voight had been the first to win acclaim, earning raves for his role opposite Duvall in Arthur Miller’s “A View From the Bridge.” His success did not go unnoticed by Hoffman, who was the play’s assistant director and Duvall’s roommate at the time. “I’d be giving Bobby notes and I’d see Voight, with one eye on the mirror, putting on his makeup, and one eye on me, watching me work with the other actors,” Hoffman recalls. “He may have thought I was critical of him, but it’s more of a matter of him not being in the club -- I just didn’t feel as comfortable talking with him as I did with some of the other actors.”
Of course, when Hoffman became Benjamin Braddock the balance shifted. “Jon had been the rising star in the theater, but after ‘The Graduate,’ it was Dustin who was the star,” recalls photographer Michael Childers, whose long relationship with Schlesinger started just before the film began shooting. “They were very competitive, but it wasn’t bitchy. Everyone was just trying to do their best work.”
Hoffman compares it to a boxing match. “We were like Marvin Hagler and Sugar Ray Leonard, two fighters going at it. We knew the movie depended on the bond between us. All through shooting, we’d say to each other, out of the side of our mouths, like a fighter in a clinch, ‘Buddy, is that the best you can do?’ ”
The film was a huge artistic leap for Schlesinger, who’d been depressed for months after the failure of his previous film, “Far From the Madding Crowd.” Having never worked outside of England, he was fascinated by the giddy pop culture of late-1960s America. Friendly with the Warhol crowd, Childers took Schlesinger to a party at the Factory, where the director met Viva, Ultra Violet, Taylor Mead and Paul Morrissey, all of whom ended up in a sequence where Ratso and Joe (along with a young Brenda Vaccaro) attend a psychedelic Factory-style bash.
One day, scouting locations on 47th Street in Manhattan, Schlesinger saw a man fall on his face 20 yards away and watched, flabbergasted, as people kept walking by him, not stopping to offer assistance. “John couldn’t believe his eyes,” recalls Hellman. “He instantly said, ‘By God, that’s got to be in the movie!’ ” A fan of the unsentimental neorealism of postwar Italian films, Schlesinger wanted the film to have a documentary feel, as if the camera was eavesdropping on the action. Hoffman’s famous “I’m walking here!” scene was, as the actor recalls, “done with a hidden camera and radio mikes -- it was pure documentary.”
The film’s young Polish cinematographer, Adam Holender, whom Roman Polanski recommended, was also eager to work in a cinema verite style. Shooting the scenes where Joe Buck arrives by bus in New York, Holender relied on his own experience. “I shot the New York skyline just the way it looked when I came from Poland a few years before. It made a big difference that John was from London and I was from Poland. We saw a lot of things with fresh eyes.”
“Midnight Cowboy” was an especially personal film for Schlesinger. He felt an emotional connection with the characters’ identity as wayward outsiders. And though he admired his actors, Schlesinger didn’t feel comfortable with his tough-as-nails New York crew, who had never taken orders from an openly gay man before. The tension was often papered over with humor. Hoffman recalls the first assistant director, wearing shorts and exposing his hairy legs, telling Schlesinger, “We’re ready whenever you are, my queen.” Schlesinger would retort: “You’ll be out someday soon, luv.”
“We all sensed John was coming from a very personal place on this film,” Hoffman recalls. “He was the outsider -- he’d been ostracized because of his being gay. And here he was telling a story about two degenerate losers, but what he was saying was, ‘Don’t look at what they are, look at who they are.’ He was determined that we should feel what they had in their souls.”
By the time the film was finished, it had gone considerably over budget. UA’s unhappiness evaporated after the studio brass saw the final print. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. The studio didn’t even blink when the newly organized MPAA ratings board gave it an X rating. “They were a great studio,” Schlesinger, who died in 2003, said in a 1999 interview. “They simply left us alone. If it had been like it is today, with previews and focus groups, things would’ve been different.”
As people who make movies will attest, there are simply times when a film lives a charmed life. Even the movie’s signature song, Fred Neil’s “Everybody’s Talkin’,” was a fluke, discovered by chance in a stack of demo tracks. When Hellman contacted the singer, Harry Nilsson, he was working as a bank teller to make ends meet. Even though UA had trouble booking the film in some cities because of its rating, “Midnight Cowboy” ended up being one of the biggest hits of the year. Its best picture triumph certainly turned heads at the MPAA. As UA’s Picker recalls: “Right after it won the Oscar, they re-rated the movie. We didn’t even ask them. They simply called one day and said it was now an R.” (Hoping academy members might be squeamish about “Cowboy’s” rating, 20th Century Fox had run ads for “Hello, Dolly!” reminding voters of its G rating.)
Today “Midnight Cowboy” is viewed as a classic -- it’s getting a deluxe DVD rerelease next month. But like most breakthrough art, it polarized critics and audiences alike. The film won plaudits from the New York Times and the Los Angeles Times, but other critics, including Pauline Kael, Roger Ebert and Richard Schickel, panned the film. Some critics thought the film’s portrait of America was too harshly satiric. Others simply thought the movie was sordid. At some screenings, there were wholesale walkouts. When Schlesinger took it to the Berlin Film Festival, the film was met with boos. “It turned out the audience was full of Maoists who felt we’d made a frivolous film instead of an antiwar drama.”
Winning the Oscar was obviously a career highlight for nearly everyone involved, especially Salt, who showed up on stage, like a ghost from another era, in a custom-made velvet suit with satin lapels. He was handed his statuette by Voight, who was presenting the best adapted screenplay award. “For Waldo, you can only characterize it as coming back from the dead,” says Hellman. “It gave him a whole new life.” For Voight and Hoffman, the film meant stardom. For Schlesinger, it launched a decade’s worth of bravura filmmaking. For Hellman, who’d been broke when he started the movie, the Oscar meant never having to struggle to work again.
Perhaps the sweetest moment came several years later when the filmmakers were guests at a posh film seminar hosted by Judith Crist, then a leading New York critic. “Judith got up in front of a packed house and read her original review of the film, which brought the house down since, needless to say, it was incredibly negative,” recalls Hellman. “After she was done, she threw up her hands and said, ‘How could I have been so wrong?’ As a filmmaker, you couldn’t ask for higher praise than that.”
Toasty Parmesan Chickpea Salad.
Were you wondering how many packages of bacon I have in my fridge right now?
Because the answer is four. Four packages. One less package than I had yesterday.
Sometimes I can be a bit excessive.
Would you still be my friend if I told you I buy butter in bulk? How about if you saw the purple tie-dyed scrunchy I wrap my hair up with when I wash my face at night? Or the catastrophe that I call my closet? Or even worse, my makeup drawer, dusted with bits of glittery Midnight Cowboy? That’s an Urban Decay eye shadow by the way. I don’t hoard burly men wearing cowboy hats in the middle of the night inside my dresser drawers.
Or the fact that I made a strawberry peach crumble and ate the entire thing in 24 hours?
Or what if you knew that I forgot to shower for two days? Wrong? Mr. How Sweet thought so. I didn’t mind.
How about if I told you that I toasted these chickpeas in bacon grease? Good? Bad? Indifferent? Appalled?
Raise your hand if you believe that bacon should be rewarded with a national holiday. Twice a year even. I’d celebrate. I’d throw the party. You’re all invited.
This chickpea salad is a dream come true. And yes, my vegetarian friends, I will use the word ‘salad’ loosely. Because I can only get away with frying something in bacon grease and calling it a salad so many times. It’s bratty. Nobody likes a brat.
The way I see it, this chickpea concoction should be at the top of your list. It has fiber. It’s kinda crunchy. It has green peppers and red onion and garlic that have been sizzled in salty bacon grease, in turn making it slightly reminiscent of a cheesy pizza coated with bacon crumbles. It’s sprinkled with freshly shaved parmesan cheese that holds everything together like glue. Savory, creamy glue. Delicious right? Don’t worry. Tastes much better than it sounds. Note to self: buy a thesaurus.
Toasty Parmesan Chickpea Salad
1 15-ounce can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese
a bunch of freshly chopped parsley
Heat a skillet on medium heat. Add bacon and fry until golden. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper towel, leavng grease in the skillet. Add onions and green peppers to the bacon fat, and cook for 2 minutes.
Make sure chickpeas are dry and toss with paprika and pepper. Add to onions and peppers, stirring and toasting for 5-7 minutes. Add garlic and cook for one minute. Turn off heat and add parmesan cheese and parsley. Sprinkle on bacon. Serve immediately.
Would you still be my friend if I told you this really only served one person? I was a little hungry.
Midnight Cowboy Chocolate Chip Cookies
1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or leave ungreased and set aside.
2. Into a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt and set aside.
3. In a stand mixer or with a hand mixer set on low speed, beat the peanut butter and shortening until creamy. On medium speed, add the granulated and brown sugars and beat until light and lump free. Beat in the vanilla and then the eggs, one at a time, until fully blended, scraping down the sides and bottom of the bowl as necessary. Turn off the mixer, add half the flour mixture, and beat on low speed until blended. Add the remaining flour and beat until blended. Stir in the oats, chocolate chips, pecans, and coconut.
4. Drop by large tablespoonfuls onto the prepared baking sheet, leaving 21/2 inches between the mounds of dough. Bake until golden brown, 15 to 17 minutes. Cool for several minutes on the baking sheet before transferring to a rack, or carefully pull the parchment paper from the pan and place it, along with the cookies, on the rack.
From Holiday Baking. Text copyright © 2005 by Sara Perry. Photographs copyright © 2005 by Leigh Beisch. All rights reserved. First published by Chronicle Books LLC, San Francisco, California.
This Midnight Cowboy Chocolate Chip Cookies recipe is from the Holiday Baking Cookbook. Download this Cookbook today.
6 Craft Cordials for Your Cocktails
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Ask for a definition of the word “cordial,” and you’re bound to get a bunch of different (and frankly confusing) answers or possibly even more questions in reply. Is it a spirit or liqueur? Does it even contain alcohol at all? Can the category encompass any possible answer to these questions, as long as the liquid in question contains sugar?
The answer to the latter question is essentially yes. On the website of the TTB (the government bureau that designates what’s permitted and what’s not in the realm of booze), the official definition doesn’t do much to clear things up, other than specify that a cordial must contain 2.5% sugar by weight. In the section that delineates and explains spirits classifications, where there are no fewer than 41 drilled-down different definitions of whiskey, the focus on cordials gets as murky as a louched glass of pastis. There are 21 different types listed, but the focus is on what they’re made of (gin cordial, brandy cordial, sloe gin) and the maximum ABV (typically 60 proof, or 30%, although once talk of anise-flavored spirits begins, it appears entirely up in the air). The legal definition uses the words “cordial” and “liqueur” interchangeably, calling the category a “flavored spirits product” that makes use of fruits, flowers, plants, juices or extracts of any of the latter.
But there’s something particular and important implied in the category’s name. The word “cordial” all but instructs you to serve it as something special to be sipped slowly or used thoughtfully in a cocktail made and presented with care. “To be cordial is to be courteous and pleasant,” says Nicola Nice, the creator and owner of gin cordial Pomp & Whimsy. “And they make you think a little of etiquette, don’t they?”
These half-dozen bottles fill that role beautifully via freshly picked fruit, a bevy of botanicals or simply a carefully considered pivot of spirit base.
Tequila Rose Drinks
Choose from 41 drink recipes containing Tequila Rose.
Learn more about Tequila Rose in the drink dictionary!
99 Roses (Shooter) 99 Bananas Schnapps, Tequila Rose Beauty and the Beast (Shooter) Jagermeister, Tequila Rose Blushing Nipple (Shooter) Baileys Irish Cream, Tequila Rose Brain Hemmorhage (Shooter) Grenadine, Peach Schnapps, Tequila Rose Candy Rose (Cocktail) Cranberry Juice, Midori, Tequila Rose China Girl (Cocktail) Frost Brandy, Sweetened Condensed Milk, Tequila, Tequila Rose Damn Rose (Shooter) Dekuyper Hot Damn 100 Proof Cinnamon Schnapps, Tequila Rose Dead Rose (Shooter) Jagermeister, Tequila Rose Festering Wound (Shooter) Grenadine, Starbucks Coffee Liqueur, Tequila Rose Fire Berry (Cocktail) Goldschlager, Tequila Rose Floating Rose (Cocktail) Sprite, Tequila Rose Flowerery Screw (Cocktail) After Shock Liqueur, Dekuyper Hot Damn 100 Proof Cinnamon Schnapps, Tequila Rose G-Spot #2 (Shooter) Blackberry Brandy, Tequila Rose JagerRose (Shooter) Jagermeister, Tequila Rose Kick In The Cahonies (Shooter) Amaretto, Tequila Rose King Of Hearts (Shooter) Chambord Raspberry Liqueur, Crown Royal, Tequila Rose Ladies Cream (Cocktail) Godet White Chocloate Liqueur, Tequila Rose Mad Jawa Valentines Day Massacre (Cocktail) Banana Liqueur, Dekuyper Hot Damn 100 Proof Cinnamon Schnapps, Milk, Sambuca, Tequila Rose Midnight Kiss (Shooter) Bols Blue Curacao, Tequila Rose Neopolitan (Shooter) Baileys Irish Cream, Kahlua, Tequila Rose Pink Bunny Of Carbanaugh (Cocktail) Amaretto, Half and Half Cream, Tequila Rose Pink Mexican (Cocktail) Coconut Rum, Cream, Tequila Rose Pink Pussy #2 (Shooter) Dr. McGillicuddy's Fireball, Tequila Rose Pink Titty (Shooter) Cinnamon Schnapps, Tequila Rose Sex Me Up Cowboy (Shooter) Butter Shots, Irish Cream, Tequila Rose Sex With A Redhead (Shooter) Bombay Sapphire Gin, Dekuyper Hot Damn 100 Proof Cinnamon Schnapps, Tequila Rose Sex with Rose (Shooter) Dekuyper Razzmatazz, Midori, Tequila Rose Slippery Johnson (Cocktail) Creme de Banane, Di Saronno Oringinale Amaretto, Tequila Rose Something Naughty (Shooter) Banana Rum, Tequila Rose Sour Rosie (Shooter) Sour Apple Pucker, Tequila Rose Steamy Apple (Hot Drink) Apple Cider, Tequila Rose, Whipped Cream Strawberry Martini (Martini) Creme de Cacao, Tequila Rose Strawberry Paradise (Cocktail) Jack Daniel's Whiskey, Kiwi, Peach, Tequila Rose Strawberry Rose Margarita (Cocktail) 7-Up, Strawberry Margarita Mix, Tequila Rose Summer's Strawberry Rose (Cocktail) Bacardi White Rum, Strawberry Mix, Tequila Rose The Checker Flag (Cocktail) Milk, Tequila Rose Thorny Love (Shooter) Grenadine, Half and Half Cream, Orange Juice, Pineapple Juice, Tequila Rose, Vodka Thorny Rose (Shooter) Peppermint Schnapps, Tequila Rose, Tia Maria Train Wreck (Shooter) Tequila, Tequila Rose TRIO (Shooter) Mozart Liqueur, Tequila Rose, Whipped Cream XXX (Shooter) Stolichnaya ( Stoli ) Strawberry Vodka, Tequila Rose, Triple Sec
Things would go better if you to left a note.
LouisaDembul on March 27, 2014:
I had never heard of coke in cake before, must try it! Actually sounds like a good combination.
justDawn1 on March 18, 2012:
Coca-Cola &amp Chocolate! Two of my favorite things! Can&apost wait to try this!
anaamhussain on August 16, 2011:
I use the same recipe but i use coffee instead of pepsi..This is the first time I have heard about pepsi in a cake.Sounds exciting, the next time I am using pepsi.Let&aposs see the difference in taste. Thanks for sharing the recipe :)
anonymous on July 22, 2011:
such a fun lens. hmmm. coka-cola cake? very interesting
Padaneis on June 07, 2011:
Very interesting. I didn&apost know about that. Going to try to cook it asap. Bests.
bidzinger on April 25, 2011:
Wonderful lens! Thank you for adding my lens to your featured lenses! I have added this one to mine! Have a great day!