Coffee and Karma

If you were to speak of me with any of my old friends, you probably wouldn't be too far into the conversation before the word "cynical" was put into play.  While I like to think of it as a realist approach to life, many misinterpret me to have an overly-jaundiced view of the world.  It's not a glass half empty/full question, it's more that I'm focused on where the next drink is coming from.

You'd think that any realist approach would negate a relationship with religions, superstitions, ideas of karmic balance, etc.  That's not quite the case because I, like all people, have a spiritual side to me and I spend a lot of internal time considering big existential questions. My realist side prohibits me considering karma as some kind of cosmic ledger sheet with transactions that are totaled at the end of the day.  I think good and kind things are the way to live your life, regardless of payback.

Sometimes, though, you are confronted with evidence that's a little hard to ignore.

This morning, in a rare twist, my commute got me to my office well in advance of my first meeting of the day.  Rather than settle for office-brewed coffee, which is perfectly fine but never spectacular, I realized I had time for a trip to Joe Coffee to score a latte and pastry before chaining myself to my desk.  Walking past one of the little-used entrances to my building, I saw the homeless guy who sometimes camps there out of the wind.  He looked even more disheveled than usual and was fidgeting and picking something off his clothes.  Realizing I was going to buy a 4$ coffee of all things and this guy hadn't probably had anything to eat today, I reached in my pocket and gave him the wad of one dollar bills I was carrying, figuring I could always use my debit card for the coffee.  The guy looked up and nodded when I handed him the cash, then retreated into his own internal world.

I continued on to the coffee shop and, frankly, I was wondering how the homeless guy had made it through this particularly brutal winter.  I wasn't paying attention when I got in line and ordered my coffee and pastry, so I didn't see the handwritten sign explaining their internet was down and it was cash only to pay for items.  It's always embarrassing to be caught out without a way to pay for something and I quickly asked the barista to cancel my order.  Before she could do so however, the woman in line ahead of me stepped in, saying, "I'd be happy to buy that for you.  I know how that feels."  I thanked her profusely and she replied, "Just pay it forward."

"You're not going to believe this..." and I told her about my morning.

On the way back to my office, the homeless guy had already left, hopefully to use my money to buy himself something to eat.

The incident didn't make me less of a realist and I still don't think karma is a cosmic vending machine, but it's nice to know that the world can be a better place if we're all a little kinder to each other.

Snowed In

In honor of the weather and the snow and the polar vortex, I stocked up on some Pendleton Canadian Whiskey for the day off.  It's been a while since I've tasted any, since last year in Montreal, and I was pleasantly surprised. Light and slightly sweet, it has plenty of spicy overtones.  I went to liquor.com and searched cocktail recipes containing specifically Canadian Whiskey and they came up with four.

You can find the list here:

http://liquor.com/base/canadian-whisky/

So far today, I've tried the Citius, Altius, Fortius and the Flanders. I think the absinthe overpowers the first one bit, although the combo provides a fresh, citrusy drink with an anise edge.  The Flanders, basically a Manhattan with Canuck spirits, is an easy-drinking variation with hints of maple.

It's perhaps telling that I have these ingredients on hand, but it's made for a relaxing snow day.  I may try the other two recipes before the end of the day.  Cheers, Canada!

On The Boulevard

If you saw this Wednesday's NYT article on the Bouulevardier cocktail, you may have been intrigued to try one.  If you haven't seen it, you should check it out here: 

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/29/dining/the-boulevardier-is-back-on-the-menu.html?_r=0

This cocktail is a variation on various whiskey-based cocktails which are part of my standard drinking menu.  The Manhattan is the most basic, then it spins out to variations like the Compass Rose or the Vieux Carre.

I tinkered with the Boulevardier a little, and this is one totally bomb-ass result:

The Brookline Boulevardier

Chill a cocktail glass with crushed ice.

In a mixing glass, over ice, combine:

1 oz Dad's Hat Cask Strength Single Barrel Rye

1 oz Jim Beam Signature Craft 12yr Bourbon

1/2 oz Carpano Antica Vermouth

1/2 oz Aperol

2 dashes No. 11 Orange Bitters

Stir until well-chilled, at least 30 seconds. Empty your cocktail glass of crushed ice. Strain the cocktail into the glass over a slice of blood orange for garnish.

Substitute ingredients as necessary or get over to my place and I'll mix you one.

Chilled Perfection

Despite my previous railing against difficult to source ingredients and twee cocktails in general, I have found what may be the perfect expression of the martini known as the Vesper.  For the Bond fans, my apologies for swapping brands, but Gordon's Gin isn't what it once was.  This is my current recipe, and it's kicking off my weekend quite well. 

Chill a martini glass with crushed ice and a small pour of absinthe. 

In a shaker, combine with ice:

1 oz Aviator Gin

1 oz Dogfish Head Jin

1 oz Kettle One Vodka

1 oz Dolin Blanc Vermouth

2 shakes Angostura Orange Bitters

Shake vigorously until well-chilled. Empty your glass of ice and absinthe. Strain the cocktail into the seasoned glass. Ba-boom! Chilled perfection.

Reading. You know, like, books?

I miss bookstores.

I know there are still bookstores around, but it's harder and harder to find one to actually spend time and browse in.  When I find one, I make a point out of going in and I almost always buy SOMETHING, even if it's something small.  The independents that are still struggling along deserve help to stay afloat, because at this point, they're the true believers.  So I pay my tithe every time I enter.

Like I say, often it's something small.  When in Manhattan, I try to get to the Strand just because it's the Strand.  They don't need my help to stay afloat, really, but I like buying books in actual stores, browsing and succumbing to impulse.  Two weeks ago, I bought a copy of Catcher in the Rye.  Why?  Well, I managed to skate the entire way through school, college, and grad school without it ever being on a reading list and I never got around to it.

I always suspected that it was something you had to read at a particular time in your life for it to hold real meaning, and now I'm halfway through, with my suspicions pretty much confirmed.  Still, I'm enjoying the book because it has a sense of place for me.  Amazon can put a smile on the box, but I won't ever think "hey, I got that when I was in NYC meeting with potential film investors."

Don't get me wrong, Amazon works.  I use them.  But I still like the real thing: a store stocked with knowledge and opinions inked on paper, staffed by an eclectic bunch of devotees.