Serious refreshment.

Summer 2010, thy name is gimlet.

I've been drinking gimlets right and left this summer, and I can't think of a good reason to stop. I make mine with fresh lime juice, simple syrup and Plymouth gin, and they're just about the most refreshing thing I've tasted in a long, long time.

I've been tinkering a bit with my recipe, and have finally settled on a ratio of 4 parts gin, 1 part lime juice and 3/4 part simple syrup. Confusing? Perhaps. But I've given the recipe in ounces, tablespoons and teaspoons, so hopefully it will be a bit easier to size up. (If you size it down, I'll be a bit disappointed in you. Just saying.)

Queenie's Gin Gimlet

4 oz. gin
1 oz. (2 tbs.) lime juice
3/4 oz. (1 tbs. plus 1 1/2 tsp.) simple syrup*

Place 5-6 ice cubes in a cocktail shaker. Place your cocktail glass in the freezer. Add all three ingredients to the shaker and shake well - but not too vigorously - until the outside of the shaker is coated in cold condensation.

Remove the glass from the freezer and strain the cocktail into it. Garnish with a lime wedge, if you so desire.

Serves one. If you want to make a whole bunch, you could totally use a pitcher. Stir vigorously.

*To make simple syrup, combine equal parts granulated sugar and water in a saucepan. Set the pan over medium high heat and cook, stirring, until the sugar is completely dissolved. Stored in the fridge, simple syrup will keep for a couple of months. I make two kinds; one with granulated sugar (for lighter drinks) and one with turbinado sugar (for more robust drinks).

The (food) moments that shaped my decade.

The aughts are coming to a close tonight, and I've decided to join the frenzy of lists appearing across the interwebs. Mine is a fairly personal, navel-gazing sort of list; instead of naming the biggest events in the food world in general, I've decided to focus on the most significant moments of my food- and drink-centered life over the last decade.

I turned 21 in 2000 and graduated from college in 2001, so the aughts have encompassed my early adulthood, my twenties. They're the years I spent finding my home (Hello, New York!), my career (user experience research and design, for now) and my taste (Sriracha, bacon and Vietnamese food, FTW!). In fact, it's pretty darn hard to distill the most important moments of my eating life down to a list of just ten top ones, so please forgive me for any that seem like I'm cheating by, say, essentially granting a tie to every single moment of my 2006 trip to Europe. Please?

All right, here goes!

Number 10: My first taste of Far Niente's Dolce.
As you all know, I am a huge fan of dessert wines both funky and sweet, and particularly of those that combine the two. Before I tried Sauternes or Banyuls, though, I drank Dolce - which is America's most delicious answer to the former. I still remember my first sip, which took place one boozy Saturday night in 2004, at Ouest with Nick and Louisa, when Nick ordered a 375 ml bottle for the three of us to share. I'd never tasted anything quite like it - syrupy, but not sickly, and infinitely musky and complex. I'd go on to tour the winery in 2006, where my mom practically had to restrain me from buying a whole case.

Number 9: Dinner at Alinea.
This one just made it in under the wire, happening as it did in November 2009. My first (and hopefully not last) dinner at Alinea was predictably delicious, and - despite the giant spoiler effect of following Grant Achatz's restaurant for years - surprising and exciting. It was a meal unlike any other I've ever eaten, one where craftsmanship was present in every bite and whimsy never once trumped flavor. A truly incredible experience.
Number 8: Discovering the wonder of Vietnamese food.
Gradually, over the last eight years, my Asian cuisine of choice has slowly shifted from Chinese, to Thai, and finally alighted on Vietnamese. The original Asian fusion, Vietnamese food combines Asian ingredients and flavors with French technique, and has given us such culinary delights as pho (a noodle soup like no other) and the currently super-trendy banh mi, a sandwich full of terrine, herbs, pickles and pate, served on that most French of breads, the baguette. It's slightly funky, thanks to the ever-present fish sauce, but also refined, thanks to a balance of flavors and textures. And I just can't get enough.

Number 7: Making banh mi at home.
Speaking of Vietnamese food - but, seriously, folks...I'm including this past summer's banh mi-fest not only because the results were delicious, but because I think it marks a culmination of the collaborative cooking and exploration Louisa and I have done together. We push one another to try new and different techniques and ingredients, using our time together each summer to tackle a couple of new projects. These banh mi, for which we made everything from scratch - even grinding our own meat - save the bread, are our proudest achievement to date. A repeat performance is planned, and we'll be upping the ante by baking our own baguettes.

Number 6: Ditching vodka for booze with actual flavor.
Just as there's a place for water in the pantheon of great beverages, there's one for vodka. That place, however, is not in a cocktail, and certainly not in a martini. If there's one thing for which my boozehound side is most grateful to the aughts, it's the cocktail craze, and, in particular, the resurgence of brown spirits and gin. Gin is just...better. As is bourbon. And dark rum. And...everything. Vodka is great in a Russian restaurant, served ice cold alongside caviar, but that's about it. I know some of you disagree, and that's your perogative. But, you're, um, wrong.

Number 5: Discovering Thomas Keller.
Obviously, I didn't discover Chef Keller, but he didn't mean much to me before, oh, 2003 or 2004, at which point I became obsessed with eating in at least one of his restaurants. Since then, I've cooked from three of his cookbooks (Bouchon, The French Laundry and Ad Hoc), eaten at three of his restaurants (Per Se, Bouchon and Bouchon Bakery) and become a devoted fan. His mashup of American ingredients and know-how with classic French technique may no longer be revolutionary, but it's still revelatory: I dare you not to fall in love with Bouchon's entire menu. Go ahead - in fact, I double-dog dare you.

Number 4: Joining eGullet.
I joined the internet food fray in 2005, when I became a member (and, eventually, a staffer) of eGullet. For a time, it was my absolutely favorite place on the web. Full of interesting, smart people who knew a ton about home cooking and the restaurant world, it was where I first stretched my food-loving wings, and, in particular, my food-writing muscles. It's where I learned about Sriracha and how to make puff pastry. It's where I learned how to take decent photographs of food. And, most significantly, the two week-long foodblogs I did there in 2006 and 2007 gave me the confidence I needed to start my own blog, which is coming up on its (gasp) third anniversary.

Number 3: Making my first mayonnaise.
I read Amanda Hesser's memoir Cooking For Mr. Latte when it first came out in 2003. It was a sweet book, but I was more interested in the food than in the love story, and was determined to become as sophisticated an epicurean as Ms. Hesser herself. Thus inspired, I made my first mayonnaise from her recipe, and have been whisking ever since. It marked the first time I ventured into truly classical, technique-focused cooking, and the deliciousness of homemade mayonnaise convinced me that (most) shortcuts are, indeed, for suckers.

2. My trip to Europe with Louisa.
Louisa and I spent two weeks in Prague, Strasbourg, Champagne and Paris in 2006. The trip cemented us as best friends, thanks in great part to the enormous amount of bonding we did over food and drink. Whether it was duck in a Prague pub, flutes of Champagne in a Reims tasting room, or steak tartare in Paris, the food we ate and the sights we saw created a common set of memories and experiences that will be ours, alone, forever. It also happens that the trip included two of my top meals of all time (at Chez Yvonne and Camille in Strasbourg and Paris, respectively), the best eclair in history, and the most satisfying doner kebab ever. All in all, two weeks that will live in memory - actually, in perpetuity, thanks to the internet.

1. Shopping at the Union Square Greenmarket.
Blame it on Dan Barber, Michael Pollan - whomever. For a myriad of reasons, I started shopping seasonally and locally a few years ago, and have no plans to go back. Oh, sure, I still buy frozen vegetables, and I do buy cucumbers out of season - not to mention the occasional flown-in fish. But, thanks to New York City's incredible Greenmarket network, I've been able to do a remarkable thing: support local businesses, reduce my carbon footprint, and make super food - all at the same time. Nothing's changed my eating habits more drastically in the last decade than my effort to shop as much as possible in Union Square (or at one of the other Greenmarket outposts around the city), and, for that I am grateful.

So, folks - if you've managed to stick it out this long - what were the formative moments of the aughts for you? Share in the comments - and Happy New Year!

What are you drinking?

Season Three of my current favorite television show premieres tonight. That's right, it's time to re-join Don, Betty, Peggy, Joan, Pete and the rest of the Mad Men crew for another season of debauchery, advertising, overwhelming social change and, of course, cocktails.

As you all know, I love a good cocktail. When I sit down to watch tonight's episode, I will be partaking of a gin gimlet (gin, lime juice, sugar), most likely made with rhubarb simple syrup. Gimlets are Betty Draper's drink, and I feel it might be the right occasion to express solidarity with my fellow Bryn Mawr grad.

So, what will you be drinking tonight? An old fashioned? Scotch, neat? Do tell!

Photo courtesy of Men.Style.com.

Cocktails for a rainy Wednesday.

When Pegu Club opened on Houston Street in 2005, New York's cocktail renaissance was in its prime. Milk & Honey and Flatiron Lounge had been slinging classic, perfectly crafted concoctions for a few years already, Little Branch opened that same year, and hot on Pegu's heels came Death & Company, followed by PDT.

Almost four years into its young life, Pegu has two personalities - sedate, sophisticated cocktail lounge, and obnxiously loud SoHo hotspot. The former is in effect on weeknights and early on the weekends, while the latter is on impenetrable display on Friday and Saturday evenings.

If you go on a weeknight, though, the emphasis is still on the cocktails, which are as good as ever.

Last Wednesday, after battling the rain and in the delightfully, intellectually bawdy company of Louisa and Deidre, I enjoyed a few of Pegu's creations - one was an old favorite, and two were new (to me, at least). First up, a Fleur de Paradis: gin, Champagne, St. Germain (an elderflower liquer) and lemon juice. To. Die. For. The gin and champagne nicely balanced out the sweet, floral St. Germain, and the lemon juice kept things nice and tart. Plus, it was garnished with pansies!

Next up was a delicious take on my go-to, the Manhattan. This version is called the Little Italy, and features the traditional rye and sweet vermouth, but adds a dash of Cynar, an artichoke-flavored liqueur (which lends some savory complexity). Served up with two delightfully boozy cherries, it's a Manhattan for people who find Manhattans a bit too sweet.

Finally, to finish things off, I went for a Zelda, named for Zelda Fitzgerald, and appropriately tart and tangy. Gin, muddled cherries (which lent an opaque, pink color) and lemon - heaven on earth, and a nice contrast to the rich bitterness of the Little Italy. Don't let the girly color fool you - this drink is all woman.

Gin is sin...and I like it.

I'm not really sure where the vodka craze came from. Some say its roots lie in the deadened taste buds of modern America, some say it's just the result of excellent advertising on the part of TBWA (on behalf of Absolut, of course). According to those theories, Americans are either without taste or just plain malleable.

Either way, I blame the vodka craze for the fact that I didn't even taste gin until my mid-20's. My mother never had it in the house, and I grew up viewing it as the drink of degenerate, 19th century Englishmen and -women.

For shame, truly, because gin is AWESOME. There is no better word to describe the fantastic concoction of alcohol and herbs that is a quality gin. Right now, I'm enjoying a gin martini (which, by definition, requires vermouth, and if you don't think so, you're wrong) - 3 ounces of Plymouth, a tablespoon on Noilly dry, stirred vigorously with ice, and garnished with some lemon zest (I don't really like olives.). And it's fabulous - complex, herby, smooth, delicious.

So please, please - next time you're out, stop yourself from ordering that vodka soda and go for a gin and tonic instead (assuming the place has decent gin - most places at least have Tanqueray, which makes a good G&T). You'll be thanking me.