proofreadingbooks:

The literature: erinmorgenstern's THE NIGHT CIRCUS (requested by obsessivereaderandwriter​)

The libation: The steaming mug appears in front of you without warning, the clear glass rippling with condensation. The night is glittering, frosty; you accept the mug gratefully from the hands of the smiling vendor with the ivory hair. She waves you off as you reach for your billfold. “Our compliments,” she says, and her eyes flick down to the crimson silk scarf tucked tightly under your chin. You smile and tip your hat, turn back to pick your way through the first-time visitors, eyes turned towards the Menagerie, where you plan to stay until dawn.

She watches you go. She loves serving the rêveurs, enjoys the intimacy of shared knowledge, enjoys passing the mulled cider from her hand to theirs, a flash of red granted to the devotees from the object of devotion. It’s a silent acknowledgement of the symbiosis between the entertainer and the entertained, an unspoken thank you.

She stirs the cider, inhaling the fumes. It’s simple, but she takes pride in her recipe, which she’s been adjusting here and there ever since the rêveurs started visiting. One quart apple cider plus one quart cranberry juice (for tartness), simmered over low heat with 1/4 cup maple syrup (she stocks up when the circus travels through Canada). For the spices, a cheesecloth packet of whole cloves, allspice berries, star anise, cinnamon sticks, the zest of a lemon and an orange, and a handful of tea leaves - she finds that the visitors like the caffeine to help them get the most out of their night. She adds a cup and half of spiced rum as well, to increase the warming effects of the cider. Each mug she serves is garnished with a cinnamon stick and fresh cranberries - and if you look closely (very closely) - you’ll see she’s enchanted dancing figures in the silvery steam, two lovers entwined until they vanish into the night air.

Photo © BLS

A very exciting thing, readers - erinmorgenstern herself made mulled cider tonight!

The literature: erinmorgenstern's THE NIGHT CIRCUS (requested by obsessivereaderandwriter​)

The libation: The steaming mug appears in front of you without warning, the clear glass rippling with condensation. The night is glittering, frosty; you accept the mug gratefully from the hands of the smiling vendor with the ivory hair. She waves you off as you reach for your billfold. “Our compliments,” she says, and her eyes flick down to the crimson silk scarf tucked tightly under your chin. You smile and tip your hat, turn back to pick your way through the first-time visitors, eyes turned towards the Menagerie, where you plan to stay until dawn.

She watches you go. She loves serving the rêveurs, enjoys the intimacy of shared knowledge, enjoys passing the mulled cider from her hand to theirs, a flash of red granted to the devotees from the object of devotion. It’s a silent acknowledgement of the symbiosis between the entertainer and the entertained, an unspoken thank you.

She stirs the cider, inhaling the fumes. It’s simple, but she takes pride in her recipe, which she’s been adjusting here and there ever since the rêveurs started visiting. One quart apple cider plus one quart cranberry juice (for tartness), simmered over low heat with 1/4 cup maple syrup (she stocks up when the circus travels through Canada). For the spices, a cheesecloth packet of whole cloves, allspice berries, star anise, cinnamon sticks, the zest of a lemon and an orange, and a handful of tea leaves - she finds that the visitors like the caffeine to help them get the most out of their night. She adds a cup and half of spiced rum as well, to increase the warming effects of the cider. Each mug she serves is garnished with a cinnamon stick and fresh cranberries - and if you look closely (very closely) - you’ll see she’s enchanted dancing figures in the silvery steam, two lovers entwined until they vanish into the night air.

Photo © BLS

The literature: Lauren Beukes’ BROKEN MONSTERS

The libation: While journeying through the twisted world of Lauren Beukes’ Detroit, you may find you need a little fortification to ground you and bring you back from the world of dreams.

(Don’t open the fridge.)

Let us make you a Deer Hunter. First, we muddle a strip of orange peel and 2 cloves. Don’t be shy. Then add 1 1/4oz Domaine de Canton ginger liquer, 1oz sloe gin, 3/4oz Glenfiddich 15 year, 1oz lemon juice, and 1/2oz cardamom & black pepper infused honey. Shake well with ice and strain over fresh ice. Garnish with an orange twist.

(Don’t open the fridge.) 

We should warn you, it packs a kick. After drinking, please make responsible decisions regarding getting tattoos (especially of birds), going to art shows with large crowds, using pottery kilns and other dangerous machinery, catfishing, venturing into abandoned warehouses, and using social media. 

Photo © CLV

The literature: emilystjohnmandel's STATION ELEVEN

The libation: After the collapse of civilization, what drink would you miss most? Surely you can scavenge plenty of wine and whiskey that’s kept perfect well (and even aged nicely) in basements and pantries - you could even make yourself a hot toddy with it, warmed over the fire.

But just think - you’ll never drink an ice-cold beer again. Want some citrus to mix with the last of your vodka? Unless you’re in Florida or California, you’re SOL. After the ants get to the granulated sugar, you can’t even make simple syrup. Bloody Mary? Sure, if you’ve got the tomatoes, but where are you gonna find Worcestershire sauce?

Of course, it’s not all bad - there’s fresh fruit when you can get it, and preserves, once you’ve figured out how to can produce without giving everyone lead poisoning. You can set up a still, teach yourself to make beer and wine and liquor. But those tiny luxuries - bitters, liqueurs, ice in the middle of summer? They’ve gone for good.

So raise one final glass to our opulent age, before the flu comes. Pour an old-fashioned, while you still have a choice in whether or not to be. Moisten a sugar cube (it comes in cubes!) with 2-3 dashes of Angostura bitters (they still make that!) in the bottom of a glass. Stir till the sugar’s dissolved, and add 2oz good spicy rye and a laughably huge ice cube (ready whenever you are). Garnish with orange peel, imported just for you from the farthest corners of the country. Stir, inhale, enjoy.

Survival, as they say, is insufficient.

Photo © Punch

The literature: Steve Almond’s AGAINST FOOTBALL

The libation: ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL? Then grab the chips, clear the couch, crack open an ice cold Bud Light® (official sponsor of the NFL!)…

…and pour it directly down the toilet. Neither watch football nor drink Bud Light® until the NFL figures its shit out, Jesus.

Photo © elvissa

The literature: Yann Martel’s LIFE OF PI (requested by theinfinitespaceage)

The libation: Two cocktails do I present to you, dear reader, and you must choose the one which speaks to you of the existence of a higher, more refreshing power.

For the first, rim your vessel with sea salt. Fill about halfway with Sixpoint Bengali IPA, and top up with grapefruit juice. Stir gently and deliberately until the seemingly at-odds flavors meld together into a peaceful coexistence. You’ve left home. This is the Salty Tiger.

For the second, rim your vessel with kosher salt (the vessel is unchanged, the location is). Mix two parts grapefruit juice with one part blanco tequila with two parts tonic water. Add a dash of bitters and stir. You’re on dry land. This is the Salty Perro.

The same ingredients recombined can lead to such different outcomes, but we must each choose our own path. I leave it to you to decide.

Photo © Cook the Story and Serious Eats

proofreadingbooks:

The literature: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s AMERICANAH

The libation: Were you so impressed by Adichie’s TEDx Talk sampled in Beyoncé’s “Flawless” that you ran out to buy yourself a copy of her most recent novel, AMERICANAH? Of course you were. For Adichie, Bey, yourself, us, and every amazing woman, there’s the Good Food Stories' Dirty Shirley, because you're a grown woman (uh-huh) - you can do whatever you want:

  • 1.5oz vodka
  • 3/4oz homemade grenadine (heat 2 cups pomegranate juice & 1 cup sugar in a pan, stirring until sugar is dissoved. Reduce heat to low & simmer until reduced by half, then cool. We know you never waste a drip.)
  • 1/2oz cherry Heering liquer
  • 1 can 7-Up
  • 4-6 sour cherries soaked overnight in 1/3 cup grenadine

Stir together vodka, grenadine, & Heering, then divide between two small glasses filled with ice. Top up each glass with 7-Up and stir again. Garnish with cherries. Raise a toast to your Obinze or Jay and then get drunk in love and turn that cherry out.

Pink is the flavor. Bow down, bitches.

Photo © GFS

Just over here reblogging ourselves, because good lord, Beyoncé:

The literature: NECRONOMICON: THE TALES OF H.P. LOVECRAFT

The libation: On what would have been the author’s 124th birthday, we bring you something R’lyeh, e’speciallyeh delicious. Combine 2oz Kraken dark rum, 1oz elder(gods)flower liqueur, 1oz fresh lime juice (the green, sticky spawn of the stars), and a dash or two of Angostura bitters. Recite the incantation (Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn) while shaking with ice. Serve in a rocks glass, garnish with a tentacle twist of lime.

Pair with a dinner of odori-don, if you’re feeling brave in the face of the indifferent universe. And please, summon the Great Old Ones responsibly.

Photo © Mike McCune

Anonymous said: canadian whiskey

Yes.

Sorry, what was the question?

12 notes

The literature: David Foster Wallace’s A SUPPOSEDLY FUN THING I’LL NEVER DO AGAIN

The libation: Absinthe. Mistakes were made.

We’re not serving you absinthe. We’re not serving anybody absinthe. We can’t even look at absinthe. We can’t even look at the color green. We’re going to serve ourselves a bacon, egg, and cheese, and go back to bed for a couple days.

Photo © jb