Goodbye, Bristol

Dearest Joe,

Other than asides, we don't often talk about our personal lives on this blog,  but I'm breaking that little unwritten rule this afternoon. Sometimes big changes in your life seep into everything, like giving birth, leaving a job, or moving. I'm not giving birth (surprise!), but I am leaving a job that I love and moving to a new town.

It's come time for me to say goodbye to Bristol, VA/TN. I've lived there for several years and have enjoyed it immensely. It's an adorable small town with a main street that is becoming vibrant again after many years of neglect. I'll miss a lot of things about it like the lovely new brewery, Studio Brew, where you and I spent our first Valentine's Day. Or Blackbird Bakery, the bakery where we've eaten a near-lethal number of donuts. Or any of the other great downtown businesses like Machiavelli's, Eatz (where I've never had a bad meal!), or the many great antique shops.

Bristol's historic sign, which straddles
State Street  and lights up at night!

I'll also miss the people I met while working at the Birthplace of Country Music Museum, where I've had the pleasure of working since June 2014 as the first full-time Curator of Collections and Digital Media. The time I spent helping open the museum, writing foundational policy,  creating two special exhibits, planning concerts, and carrying out organization and preservation tasks with volunteers have been incredibly rewarding. I've also loved getting to know my great colleagues.

BCM is an award-winning museum and I have some brilliant
colleagues there. If you haven't visited yet, you should!

Despite missing all of these things, though, I'm excited to start a new chapter in my life in Pittsburgh with you, Joe. Still, it's always hard to leave friends, a place that you know well, and a challenging, rewarding job.

So this cocktail post breaks with our format and doesn't use our featured liquor. Instead, I've tried to find a cocktail that reminds me a bit of Bristol.

The obvious choice, of course, is something with a Tennessee whiskey in it. But we use so much bourbon in our drinks on this blog (and in our regular lives), that I wasn't sure I wanted to drop money on a bottle of whiskey. I've also always been partial to Virginia for many reasons: I was born and raised there, It's absolutely gorgeous year-round, history and culture are literally all around you (Monticello, Mount Vernon, Williamsburg, and all the great stuff in and around D.C.), and it's becoming an increasingly blue state. I could've sprung for a bottle of Bowman's Virginia bourbon, but that also seemed silly -- bourbon, despite what Virginia Tourism will tell you, is not really our thing in the Commonwealth.

So what does Virginia do well? Virginians have been making wine for years, ever since Thomas Jefferson tried (with much difficulty) to grow wine grapes at his home, Monticello. Now there's a thriving wine industry that has lovely semi-dry whites like traminettes and viogniers, other, more familiar whites that taste different than their West coast cousins, and a bevy of reds and red blends.

But even before T.J. tried to grow wine grapes, George Washington was enjoying another, now antiquated spirit at Mount Vernon, his Virginia home: applejack. Applejack, also known as apple brandy, is made from apple cider which is fermented, then heated and distilled, then sometimes aged in oak barrels. The Laird & Company Distillery who still distills applejack, holds the first commercial distillery license issued in the United States. In The Drunken Botanist, Amy Stewart claims that, after receiving a gift of applejack from the Laird family, George Washington wrote them to ask for the recipe, though he may or may not have made his own apple brandy at Mount Vernon. While Laird is based in New Jersey, and has been since the late 1600s, they still use 100% Virginia apples for their apple brandy.

So, wine and apple brandy combine to create a delightful drink (thanks, Internet!) that's slightly sweet, delightfully complex, and perfect for spring and summertime sipping on the porch.

1 1/2 oz. Laird's Apple Brandy
3/4 oz St. Germain
1/2 oz. freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 oz. Virginia sauvignon blanc

Shake all the ingredients together then strain into a glass garnished with a slice of a Virginia-grown apple, if you wish.

The finished cocktail next to a Pointer Brand purse made by L.C. King,
who has been manufacturing in Bristol for almost 100 years!

So goodbye, Bristol. I'll miss a lot of great things about you and have lots of fond memories, but it's time to move on.

July liquor: Sage

Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be.  

-- Walter Benjamin, "Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction" (1936)

This month it was my (Dave's) turn to choose a liquor, and I've been enchanted by the Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction distillery. They took the same name as a famous essay by Walter Benjamin that, in 1936, began to theorize what kinds of changes reproducability and capitalism would bring upon Art. In the end, Benjamin muses, art wrested from its connection to ritual and tradition becomes inherently political, since it is "designed for reproducability." 

And, in that sense, it is an apt moniker for the Art in the Age distillery, which prides itself on being sustainable and local. They have preserved original buildings on the site of their distillery and use regional grains and local botanicals in their drinks. 

I'd wanted to use their Rhubarb Tea liquor for our April liquor, but alas, they were sold out at the fancy Bristol liquor store. I think, though, that was a stroke of luck, because their Sage liquor (which I got partly because you, Joe, have a thing for sage) is delicious. 

It's not entirely sage-based, though - the name Sage seems to come from the fact that it is based on the writings of Bernard McMahon, who served as a botanical advisor to Thomas Jefferson. The botanical play on words is just right - hipsters like the Art in the Age kids love puns. 

So, this month's liquor, unlike Pernod from May, is delicious and drinkable and, I think, will become a staple of our liquor cabinet. 

Dave's tasting notes:

Smell: Citrusy. Lemony. Although the description of "furniture cleaner - think Pledge™" sounds like a damning condemnation of Sage, it really isn't. The scent is subtle, but certainly citrus - but not an indeterminate citrus - definitely lemon.

Consuela or Dave? You decide, America. You decide. 

Out of the bottle, Sage takes on different properties. It's sweet and herby and minty - a heady combination, a bit like Bénédictine, but less heavy. 

Taste: A boom of herbs. So many herbs with a citrus finish. But the primary flavor is herbs, and it is absolutely delicious. [Joe is typing this for Dave as he dictates. Quoth Dave: "Gosh, I should've written my dissertation like this. 'It's good', but make it sound better than that." Joe considers career as stenographer.]

"I've got 'It's good'. What next?"

Joe's tasting notes:

Smell: "This smells like tea*!" I proclaimed. Dave looked at me like I was batshit crazy. To wit: I do tend to say things that don't, on the surface, seem to be rooted in reality. Upon closer inspection, however, I am often correct in my initial batshit observations. Once poured into a glass, however, Sage takes on an entirely different profile. All its herbaceous qualities bloom, though lavender** is the principle nose for me.

Taste: Go to a plant nursery and direct yourself to the herbs. Take a look at all those herbs. Alllllllll those herbs. So many, right? Imagine that those herbs explode in your mouth, a veritable Hiroshima on your palate. But imagine that instead of your face melting off in the fallout, it feels instead like the most delicious smörgåsbord of herbaceous delight. This is what a sip of Sage is like. The dominant flavor for me is still lavender, but it rounds out into a truly spectacular and complex combination of Every Herb I've Ever Loved***.

Mouth, meet Sage.

* As it turns out, Sage is made with black tea. BOO-YAH.
** Dave also looked at me cockeyed when I swore I smelled lavender. Gentle reader, do you not think I deserve, at the least, a "You're so smart, Joe!" from Dave or, even better, a dozen oatmeal raisin cookies (my favorite!) at the most? Please leave a comment below telling Dave what I deserve. Do not let me down.
*** All The Herbs. ALL OF THEM. 

Who killed Laura Palmer?

Dear Dave,

I have never seen the television show Twin Peaks, but I remember it being a large part of the zeitgeist when I was in 8th grade.

Here's what I knew at the time:

• There was a character named Laura Palmer who was murdered.
• The show was supposedly quite weird.

Here's what I know now:

• There was a character named Laura Palmer who was murdered.
• The show was directed by David Lynch, so it absolutely, positively has to be weird. 

Have you ever seen a David Lynch film? 

I've seen one. 

It was called Mulholland Drive. 

I liked it, but I didn't understand it. At all. 

Anyway.

For Bénédictine month, I chose to make a drink called Twin Peaks. 

Frosty & aloof - like the show?

Ingredients:

• dash of Triple Sec
• 2 measures bourbon
• 1 measure Bénédictine
• 1 measure lime juice

When flipping through cocktail recipes, I initially wanted a gin-based mix... but once I stumbled upon this lovely, my heart was sold. 

C'mon. You know me. 

Bourbon. 

I have a Pavlovian response to it. 

It can't be coincidence that this drink is called Twin Peaks.

There's a remarkable complexity to it, and according to the Wikipedia plot synopsis, so, too, does the television show. 

However... I didn't taste the Bénédictine at first. I was slightly disappointed. 

But my disappointment didn't last long, because - goddamn - this is an incredible cocktail. And that's not just the alcohol speaking.

Ok. 

Maybe it is. 

Because this is one boozy drink. 

It's hard to describe the cocktail. It doesn't taste like bourbon. It doesn't taste like Bénédictine. It doesn't taste like lime. This indicates one thing: these ingredients complement each other beautifully, creating the perfect mix. 

There are moments where you might detect a hint of each ingredient, though. Here's the lime, tickling your tastebuds as the drink lingers on the palette. Here's the Bénédictine, intoxicatingly mysterious, holding your interest with its complex combination of flavors. Here's the bourbon, being the big, bossy badass it is - announcing its beautiful headiness amongst the combatting flavors.

Dave, I love this drink. It's the perfect combination of profiles: a sharp sour note, a mellow sweetness. A big hit of flavor. Even though we're at the tail end of winter (though you wouldn't know it with the unseasonably warm day we're having - I'm enjoying an evening on the balcony as I write this entry), I can safely say that this cocktail would be perfect for a summer twilight. A lovely end to a lovely day. 

It is a five-star drink, through and through. 

Also: I didn't read too much about Twin Peaks. The brief synopsis I read was enough to make me think that it might be a show we'd enjoy. 

Even if it is just a weird excursion into mindfuckery. Kinda like the drink.

Love,

Joe

PS: While writing this article, I was listening to the new Amanda Palmer single, "Machete", on repeat. It's a bit of a meta-reference. How so? Amanda Palmer's debut solo album was titled Who Killed Amanda Palmer?, a sly reference to Twin Peaks. It's refreshing to know that her solo output is as good as what she did with The Dresden Dolls. 

Nerdy Librarian Citations

Whitaker, Julie & Ian Whitelaw. A Pocket Guide to Cocktails. Bath: Parragon Books, 2006. Print. 

"Twin Peaks". Wikipedia. Wikipedia, 2016. Web. 10 March 2016. <http://en.wikipedia.org>.