Cocktail Porn

[jmfangio]

Resurrecting a long dormant thread to show off my latest Ebay score - a vintage Playboy Club martini pitcher and glasses set. Now I just need some silk pajamas, a robe and a pipe.

And seven blonde girlfriends. Just to complete the look.

Edited January 7, 2008 by jmfangio (log)

[KatieLoeb]

And seven blonde girlfriends. Just to complete the look.

Let us know how that works out for you. When you come up for air...

[Alchemist]

Cocktail Porn. Graphic content, to be consumed by cocktail geeks 21 years of age and older ONLY. There are no graphics, but it's graphic.

They sauntered in to my bar, short skirts, long legs, deep thirsts and shallow eyes. I stood behind the stick, oiling my swizzle stick polishing my rocks glasses. It was a slow Monday afternoon; my only company was Girls, Girls, Girls, the Motley Crew song playing over and over again on the broken jukebox. Hips rolling, like a pony kegs tumbling down a staircase, they made their way over to the barstools, and in unison each threw a leg over one, showing me their Amaretto Sharon Stone Sours. With more giggles than a 7th grade girl’s school Sex Ed class, they ask me “We hear you have a cocktail called LOVE, can you make it?"

“I have just the thing for both of you lovelies.” I reply smooth as 5 times rectified, 23 degree (F) Vodka with 25% dilution of triple filtered water that came from fist sized chunks of ice freshly pulled from a -3 degree (F) True freezer. “It will warm you all the way down, molten velvet dripping down to your diaphram…and send chills up your spine at the same time.”

I slide down the bar and grab a bottle of Mathusalem, it’s curvy neck feels good in my hand, like a sexy Smurfette. I construct Treacle, telling the Brunette on the left the story of the Treacle. How Treacle used to mean an antidote for poison, and that Treacle was what the Mock turtle ate in Alice in Wonderland. Her eyes gleamed as she lapped up the cocktail lore.

I flip a 30 oz metal shaker off the bar and it lands in my slightly moist hand with the sound of a naughty girl getting her just desserts. I usually give naughty girls a Dominicana (Rum, & Coffee Liqueur stirred then heavy cream floated on top) for dessert. The Blond on the right is aching for something creamy, but long, and stiff, something that will satisfy her cocktail lust. Into the shaker I contribute the luscious white of an organic, free range egg, three quarters of an ounce of fresh squeezed lemon juice-Led Zeppelin’s whole lot of love coursing through my mind “Squeeze My lemon, till the juice runs down my leg”-, an full, opulent ounce of simple syrup (one on one, vanilla the swingers would say), and two and a half ounces of Lairds Bondage Applejack, 100 proof (a cocktail doesn’t get much stiffer than that). I Mime shake the Apple Blow Fizz with my right while stirring the Treacle with my left; they titter at my dexterous multi-tasking, and the Blond Bombshell Raises an eyebrow and murmurs archly.

“That kind of skill would be very useful in our house, it’s a mansion called Manage a Trios”

I snap the shaker open with the sound of a pinball game matching. I carefully select 5 perfectly shaped Kold-Draft ice cubes, which I donate to the shaker. “Your French is Magnificent,” I say. “You are quite the cunning linguist.” I rock the shaker slowly, and then build speed quickly. It sounds like The 6 train barreling into Union Square, fast and hard, and over in the time of a quarter back on prom night.

I set the shaker on the bar, reach into the freezer and pull out a 6” shard of ice; it’s girth formidable, which I slide into her Collins glass. I give the Treacle a twirl, and set it in front of the Brunette. I grab protection, against the ice falling out of the shaker. With Hawthorn strainer in place I pour the Apple Blow Fizz into her glass. “Here is the stiff part,” I say. “And here comes the long…” I open a soda water and drizzle it down the side while turning the glass using only the cheat. I grab an apple, -a Honey Crisp- one so fragrant that Eve would have been kicked out of Eden much earlier if it had been on the tree, and slice a piece off for garnish. I put it on the rim of the glass and it cleaves the espuma looking like a dirty painting by Georgia O’Keefe.

For the Treacle I undress an orange all at once, the peel crumpling to the bar like a cheerleaders prom dress at the foot of a Motel 6 bed. I squeeze some essential oil on the lip of the glass then coil the skin around the chunk of ice in her Double Old Fashioned, Libby #435-624, a perfect serpentine garnish to match the apple in the other. I consider ordering them a plate of ribs to round out the original sin motif of this round.

In unison they lick their lips, and hoist their libations. As the liquid hits their tongues their eyes close, their toes curl, Goosebumps blossom on their golden arms, and a deep satisfied shudder rumbles through their bodies.

The Bombshell opens her eyes. Eyes that look like she just woke up somewhere wonderful. Baby blues full of epiphany. With the back of her hand and wrist she wipes the rich, mother of pearl foam from her top lip with the nonchalance of Tracy Lords, and says to me.

“Thank you sir may I have another.”

[Alchemist]

Is this necrophillia?

[johnder]

hey that looks familar! Nice framing job. Mine is still sitting in the corner unfortunately.

[johnder]

There is a great picture from the event at Astor Center last night where PDT had the honor of making drinks with an all star crew which included

Gary Regan, Charlottte Voisey, Julie Reiner, David Wondrich, Audrey Saunders, Dale “King of Cocktails” DeGroffl, Jim Meehan of PDT, Leo DeGroff. Sasha Petraske, Giuseppe Gonzalez and Kenta Goto and Eben Freeman

There group photo is up over at Grub Street here.

[KatieLoeb]

:sniff:

I guess my invitation got lost in the mail....

I wish I'd known about this. I'd most definitely have rearranged my schedule and come up to attend this event. Sounds like it was awesome.

[maggiethecat]

Cocktail Porn.  Graphic content, to be consumed by cocktail geeks 21 years of age and older ONLY.  There are no graphics, but it's graphic.

   

That's quite the cocktail of erotic double- entendres and euphemsim, Toby.

[Kent Wang]

I was well amused by it. You should consider a whole series of these.

[KatieLoeb]

Toby's prose could make a girl want for a good <ahem> stiff drink and a cigarette afterward.

Brilliantly done, Toby. You have such a way with words.

[Alchemist]

Cocktail Porn.  Graphic content, to be consumed by cocktail geeks 21 years of age and older ONLY.  There are no graphics, but it's graphic.

   

That's quite the cocktail of erotic double- entendres and euphemsim, Toby.

←

Damn, I was going for erotic cocktail double-entendre.

[Alchemist]

Rob Roy sat astride his massive black stallion looking down on Shirley Temple with a haughtiness that just made her blood boil. She had first seen it when he brought her, against her will!, to this horrible little town so far west of her beloved Madison Ave.

She stomped her foot petulantly. “I will not, ever, in this lifetime work in that saloon of yours!” Arms akimbo, and lower lip stuck out as her exclamation point.

“Well” Rob Roy countered, “We’ll just see about that.” His strong cowboy hands caressed the saddle horn between his legs, furrowing Shirley's brow a little more because she couldn’t understand why her belly went all gooey sometimes around this man she so disliked.

“Just because you won me in that poker game against my dear sweet Pa-Pa, does not mean you own me.”

“Why yes Miss Temple that is exactly what it does mean. I am truly sorry your dear, sweet pa-pa is a degenerate gambler who can’t hold his licker, ’sept if he hired her from one of those Bowery brothels.” He chuckled, enjoying being lewd in front of Miss Fancy Knickers.

Shirley stomped her little foot again, turned on her heel and stormed off with Rob Roy’s laughter ringing in her crimson ears. “I’ll get him for this, and for every other humiliation he has put me through.” She vowed.

All through the night she tossed and turned plotting vengeance, dreaming of revenge, figuring how to give that mean Rob Roy his come-uppance.”

The next morning she was behind the stick, a phrase she had heard Rob Roy use many times that she couldn’t think of let alone utter without going all pink around the cheeks. She was Polishing glasses, organizing liquor bottles, Wiping down the beautiful Mahogany bar when Rob Roy came down the stairs, shirtless no-less, a cat who just ate the canary grin on his face.

From an open door on the second floor came the sleepy voice of Marta Ini, a half Mexican half Italian whore, who had recently taken to Rob Roy’s bed for free. “Carino, Please you bring me some coffee of the Irish?”

“You’re gonna get some black coffee, and a second helping of Scotch, and you’re gonna like it.” He called back, followed by her titters.

He bellied up to the bar his powerful shoulders blocking out the sun coming in from the window, Rock hard abs slashed this way And that with knife wounds, and love bites that were as fresh as the cream that had just been delivered and was sitting on the bar perspiring slightly in the gentle morning heat.

“You’re gonna make me two Ramos gin fizzes right now, fast and hard, and every morning here after I expect four of them to be on the bar, just shaken, the bubbles from the seltzer still jumping enough too tickle my nose. And the head better be spectacular. Every morning, awesome, stellar head is what I expect. If you aren’t hot, and glistening then the head is no good.” He was trying to make her blush, trying to make her squirm and bite her lip with em- bare assed- ment.

She smiled prettily, and put her plan into effect. Her plan was to become the best darn barkeep west of the Hudson, Squirrel away some cash, to buy her freedom, and then get back to her beloved little brownstone on Grammercy Park.

“Mr. Roy,” She began, fluttering her eyelashes and putting a little western lilt in her voice so as to be pleasing to the ear of this savage who had no more manners than a guttersnipe from the Five-Points.

“I’m new at this so if you wouldn’t mind walking me through this gin fit thing today I will have it ready for you tomorrow.”

Rob Roy, who everyone called Roy, looked with suspicion at this purring kitten before him, who just yesterday was as wild as a puma caught in a trap.

“It’s a Gin Fizz, a Ramos Gin Fizz, Elixir of the gods, a blessing to all have woken up after a night of whiskey and women to a head full of bumble bees, and a stomach as delicate as the skull of a baby chick. Jeeze woman you sure don’t know squat for a girl who went through collage. Take that there shaker and put it open side up in front of you.” He began, wondering where this was going and getting up on the balls of his feet ready to duck in case any eggs, gin or orange flower water came sailing his way.

“Now with one hand crack one of those eggs that Farmer Macdonald just brought us, getting only the white in the shaker.” As she struggled not to get in any shell into the tin, Roy continued. “That Old Macdonald, he has a chicken on his farm.” He hummed a little diddy (da-da-da-da-da-da-Duh) to himself and decided he should make a song out of it sometime. “So I first had the Gin Fizz of the Ramos coupla years back when I was down in N’awlenz. It was hot, hot as the hinges of hell… Good work, now donate an ounce of that fresh Macdonald cream to the shaker… When I was walking around looking for some liquid refreshment. I stumbled upon this tavern in a rather seedy part of the crescent city, a bar that still to this day brings joy to my heart when I think about it…OK, now contribute 2 ponies of that Old Tom Gin, the juice of half a lemon and half a lime, a spoon of powered sugar...”

“You getting all this?” Roy fired at Shirley who was running around looking for things, dropping things, sometimes spinning in one place. “Now supply 7 drops of orange flower water. You don’t know what orange flower water is? It smells as good as a Parisian Trollop, and is as strong as her pimp, so be careful, 7 drops, no more no less. So I walk into this bar, and belly up, my shiny boot on a brass foot-rail, a Black Cherry Royal Roll to brace my elbow. I was going to order a whiskey but then I noticed everybody in the bar had these long thin drinks that looked like they could satisfy the thirst of a man 2 weeks out in the desert. The drink was as pale and white a ladies thigh. I ordered one up, asking his barkeeps pardon, but what was this concoction called? The saloon master said it was a Ramos, that’s all he called it, like everyone in the world should know what it was and it’s name.”

Shirley stood before him her bosom heaving, a shaker in one hand a big lump of ice in the other. She closed her eyes, brought the tin to her nose and inhaled heaven. Fireworks went off behind her eyes. Images of languorous picnics in warm butterfly filled meadows, and slow deep kisses on that plaid blanket filled her brain. She dropped the lump of ice in the shaker, placed the other, smaller tin on top and brought the heel of her hand down on the edge to create a seal.

Even though she had never been a saloon, or tavern, never stepped foot in a bar or a blind tiger, she knew what to do. She brought the cocktail to shoulder height and started rocking in slowly; slow and steady like a hansom cab containing a dandy and his mistress, hidden in central park after the opera. She speeded the motion up, gradually building, reminding sweet Shirley of the bonnets of the workingwomen in the alleys near W .11th Street. The sound of the ice reached a cacophony, like a team of horses, barreling down on you, their hooves sparking on the cobblestones. The sound itself intoxicating, the clatter of danger, the ice chips whispering against the inside of the shaker with the joy of lover’s sweet nothings.

Roy stood there gob smacked. He beheld this little whipper-snap of a thing behind his bar; panting and wobbly, dew drops of perspiration trickling down her décolleté. Her hair was coming out in wisps giving her the freshly f#!ked look.

She snapped the shakers with the suddenness and force of a public knee-trembler. She grabbed a tall thin highball glass, and strained the Ramos into it. With the patience of a professional she wrung the last drops of espuma from the bottom of the tin. She added spurts of soda water until the creamy head stood 8 turgid inches from the bottom of the glass. Her eyes were far away and dreamy as she reached for her first cocktail. Roy stood stock still in his tracks, watching the proceedings in slow motion.

She grasped the glass around its base, feeling the heft and girth hard in her hand. As she hoisted the fizz all got quiet for Shirley. The bouquet hit her when it was half way to her hungry lips. Her eyes closed partially, the glass came to her lips and ecstasy crashed on her tongue. Cool silky Ramos shot across her taste buds, electrifying them, and slid down her throat. In her haste, her longing, her need she had brought the glass up a little to fast. The creamy, perfumed head stuck to her upper lip, and just a few drops snuck out from both sides of her mouth. The drops stuck in her hair and rivulets down her long swan neck and into her cleavage.

Her vixen eyes bored into Roy, and she daintily wiped the corners of her lips in a no-nonsense gesture. She cocked her head, and with confidence and drawled.

“I think I’m gonna be just fine behind your stick Mr. Roy.”

[Alchemist]

This is the top of a pullmans shaker. The little arrow spins to point to the cocktail contained. Then the waiter would carry whole shaker to the table, shake...

Then the top of the shaker becomes the drinking vessle, and the strainer is built into the bottom. Wicked, wicked sexy. This is by far my favorite piece of bar ware.

Toby

Sorry, had to rub some vasaline on the lense for the soft porn look.

[jmfangio]

That is sweet! But, now I'm in trouble. I Googled 'Pullman's cocktail shaker' for more info, and came across this gallery of beautiful vintage cocktail shakers. I'd better hide my credit cards.

Hey, we could all chip in and get David Wondrich the 'Esquire Man' shaker!

[KatieLoeb]

Bringing this back to the "show us your stuff" aspect rather than the lovely prose, here are my latest eBay finds that have just arrived.

Set of four vintage shakers. Paid about $30 with shipping for all four. I particularly like the one with the red stripes and the mixing blades at the bottom.

Never used set with six short glasses and shaker. A bargain at around $18 with the shipping. Very pretty etched flower design on them. One glass had a tiny flea bite on the rim I was able to file out. This set will be a birthday gift for a dear friend that loves to entertain and serve a proper cocktail before dinner. I hope he likes it. I suspect he will.

And my personal fave, and the biggest bargain of all:

These are just gorgeous and are in absolutely mint condition. I won this auction for .99!! With the shipping these lovely crystal glasses came out to less than $2 per stem. I can hardly wait to use them. They're even prettier in person.

[Alchemist]

You freaking scored! nice work.

I do believe that the blades are for crushing ice and over-muddling, the fact you could do a wicked Queens Park Swizzle is just a bonus.

Toby

Edited February 13, 2008 by Alchemist (log)

[KatieLoeb]

Thanks Toby! I'm feeling pretty self satisfied at the riches I found. I really didn't mean to go on a shopping binge. I was really just looking for a birthday gift for my friend. It's his 60th coming up next week, and he loves proper table top accoutrement. He sets a lovely table to which I'm oft invited for dinners. Being I'm his favorite 'tender, it only seemed appropriate to get him something cocktail related. I'm really hoping he likes it.

The crystal stems with the etching are so pretty I can't stand it. They'll definitely be my "photo shoot" glasses for any future cocktail pics.

[slkinsey]

To echo Toby, I believe the thing with the blades is actually an ice crusher and not a cocktail shaker/mixer.

[lucylou95816]

Katie,

I have that same shaker with the blades, in my kitchen with all of my other vintage cocktail shakers. I too went on a binge several years ago and purchased about 12-14 shakers. *As I look up at them all dusty*

[KatieLoeb]

Thanks for the info, folks. I'll test drive the shaker probably next weekend and let you know how it works as an ice crusher.

My shakers are inside a cabinet, so they get a little less dusty. Doesn't mean they couldn't use a good dusting though...

[Alchemist]

I recommend using gin, lime juice, and simple syrup with a dash of bitters for the best de-dusting. Repeat, with variations, twice to thrice a week. As the old adage goes, A rocking shaker gathers no dust.

Toby

[KatieLoeb]

...As the old adage goes, A rocking shaker gathers no dust.

Toby, you are my hero!

[bostonapothecary]

...As the old adage goes, A rocking shaker gathers no dust.

Toby, you are my hero!

←

sound advice, all the money you save on lemon pledge wipes and feather dusters you can spend on better whiskey...

[jsmeeker]

I recommend using gin, lime juice, and simple syrup with a dash of bitters for the best de-dusting.  Repeat, with variations, twice to thrice a week.  As the old adage goes, A rocking shaker gathers no dust.

Toby

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digging into my recent memory banks, this sounds familiair I think this is called a Bennet Cocktail? Do I have that right, Toby?

[thirtyoneknots]

I recommend using gin, lime juice, and simple syrup with a dash of bitters for the best de-dusting.  Repeat, with variations, twice to thrice a week.  As the old adage goes, A rocking shaker gathers no dust.

Toby

←

digging into my recent memory banks, this sounds familiair I think this is called a Bennet Cocktail? Do I have that right, Toby?

←

Technically a Bennet is completely unsweetened.