A Drink and a Smoke

I have taken up a new hobby over the last few months.  Late in the week, most often on Fridays, I wrap up work at a reasonable hour to spend an hour or so relaxing quietly with a cigar and a coffee.

Technically speaking, this isn’t a new hobby – I have smoked cigars intermittently since a girlfriend brought me back a box of Cohiba Churchills from their factory in Havana.  I later married her, but it wasn’t only because of the cigars. Yet, I digress.

I consider this a new hobby because it has become regular, about weekly – although I wish it were more often.  In the ordinary course of events, my Friday diversion takes me to a tobacco shop tucked into the corner of one of the ubiquitous strip malls of northern Virginia’s suburbs. It’s not a large store, but what it lacks in size it makes up for with a fantastic selection and more importantly, a small lounge.

It is here, where amidst leather chairs, wood paneling, and the gently rising cloud of smoke that disappears in the quietly humming ventilator, that I lament the past work week and devise plans for the coming weekend.

The only problem with my newfound haven: it’s a tobacco store and not a bar; thus, a notable absence of adult beverages. In place of my usual Talisker I must make do with a medium decaf from a neighboring Starbucks. In the grand scheme of things coffee isn’t the worst substitute in the world.  A dark roast drip or espresso-based Americano pairs decently with a bolder robusto-style cigar.

As anti-smoking laws continue to decrease the number of smoking lounges, this trade-off – enjoying a cigar with a coffee rather than a real drink – will be all the more commonplace.  As it stands, there are only a handful of bars in the DC metro region that permit cigar smoking, making it all the more difficult to enjoy a cocktail and a smoke out on the town.

Thankfully it appears more smoke shops and tobacco lounges are popping up, not in large numbers, but enough to offer additional options to casual smokers who are flexible with their drink of choice.  Those shops also seem to be setting space aside for a sitting area and introducing weekend beer and wine tastings to enjoy while smoking.

More importantly to me, perhaps, are the warm weather and longer days, which encourage me to freely smoke on my new patio, and drink whatever I choose.

Grilling Out

There are few things better than cooking outdoors, over an open fire, with a drink in hand.  Whether it’s a nicely marbled New York Strip, burgers, chicken, or vegetables, most food tastes better flame kissed with a touch of char.  And lording over one’s culinary kingdom with a beverage makes the act all the more enjoyable.

Sadly, it took nearly six months for me to acquire a grill after moving last year, resulting in much wasted time; especially because my wife encouraged me to buy one the weekend we moved in (and kept on encouraging me pretty much every weekend that followed).  This summer’s extended daylight hours thus disappeared, lost to my indecision and trepidation bordering on intimidation.  How could I, a father of two in my early 30s not yet know how to grill?  Certainly this made me less of a man.

Thankfully, I eventually pulled the trigger and bought a grill.  Or rather, the trigger was pulled for me.  My wife, fed up with my perpetual procrastination and excuse-making, simply bought one herself.

“Do you like this grill?” she asked, handing me our laptop open to an Amazon.com page.

“Sure, it looks nice.”

“Good, because I bought it today.  I was tired of waiting around for you to do it.  It’ll be here in two days.  It’s probably a bit more than you would have spent, but I think we’ll use it a lot, and it got good reviews.  You’re welcome.”

“Ok.  I’ll look into getting a propane tank tomorrow.”

A few short days later, I learned I have quite the knack for grilling.  While standing there, watching the flames flickering, I began thinking: what determines what I drink while I grill, an activity mostly involving (a) standing around and (b) drinking.  I settled on three key factors: weather, or more specifically temperature; time, which is to say, amount of food to be cooked; and finally, and perhaps most importantly, mood.

Here, an example or two might be helpful.  Let’s say I’m cooking hot dogs for lunch on an autumn weekend afternoon.  Temperatures are seasonal – sweatshirt weather – and cook time is short, about 10 minutes, including time for the grill to preheat.  A beer is a reasonable (and obvious) choice.  However, since it’s only lunchtime, what about a mug of coffee with a touch of whisky to better keep brisk fall breezes at bay?

Or, let’s say I’m grilling steaks for dinner.  Would I rather pour a dram of scotch while cooking or leave that to be enjoyed during or after the meal?  How about an apéritif instead?  Can they legitimately be enjoyed while grilling?  I can’t find a rule or opinion against it, but it just feels off; Campari or Fernet Branca, members of the bitters family, seem to be the only appropriate choices.

This is my conundrum: a light-hearted knot to untie while passing time away in front of the fire, if watching your food cook isn’t distraction enough.

Britain’s National Drinking Problem?

“Drunk or not, I have the best. hair. ever.”

Several years ago I wrote a post on an Economist article analyzing the decline of Britain’s humble neighborhood pubs. An unfortunate occurrence, but one not difficult to understand when considering a frustrated economy that leaves consumers with less disposable income.  That, coupled with an overall decline in beer consumption, the traditional staple of any public house.

Yet that decline hasn’t resulted in less drinking. On the contrary, it appears that Britain has a national problem with drink. And the problem isn’t only with booze, but with the political discussion surrounding it.

First, let’s discuss the booze problem, placed within a geographic context: “Like most chilly north European countries, it has an ancient tradition of getting blotto. But Britons manage to combine Scandinavian bingeing with liver-pickling Mediterranean levels of consumption.”

If such a problem does exist, how can it be fixed? Increased regulation appears often in these situations, but perhaps properly understanding the problem might be a best first step. “Britain’s noisy youthful drinkers, who attract most of the public ire, are in fact a diminishing part of the problem.” Instead, this latest attempt by legislators to mandate health choices is much like its past attempts: “Britain’s battles with the bottle have always involved a heady mixture of anxieties about health, morality and social class.”

The problem thus appears more complicated than it first seemed. Might there be a confluence of factors responsible for Britain’s love affair with drink, such as geographic and economic considerations? “Growing prosperity and urbanisation were likelier causes of both drunkeness and its critics, because they brought rowdy commoners into greater proximity with gentler inebriates.”

Is British society doomed? In the Economist’s opinion, the worry is overblown: “This class-infused tension is discernable in every major campaign against drink that has followed: from the 18th-century crackdown on the ‘gin-craze’…to the high-minded Victorian temperence movement, and the exaggerated popular concerns over ‘binge Britain’ of today.”

Moveover, critics and naysayers completely fail to acknowledge the social benefits the bottle brings. “Britain’s buttoned-up society gets a lot of precious bonding and cheer from the bottle, which is too often ignored in the public browbeating.” Bonding and cheer, a way for us to blow off steam, to unwind after a day’s work, to make new friends and grow closer to those we have. Intangible benefits that produce happiness and revelry, benefits that bind society together.

I’m Zozzled, Let’s Blouse!

Let’s take a another trip back to the 1920s and Jazz Age drinking, back to the world of Lois Long, Prohibition, and the cocktail’s infancy – to those early days full of new optimism following World War I.

Recently, Philadelphia’s National Constitution Center opened an exhibit titled, “American Spirits: The Rise and Fall of Prohibition.”  In addition, Edward Rothstein wrote an excellent analysis of the politics and culture surrounding the 18th Amendment’s passage in his New York Times article.  But I want to focus instead on Jen Doll’s recent piece in the The Atlantic Wire.  Ms. Doll “scoured the Internet for a list of twenties-era words and phrases that we need to add to our contemporary conversations.” Her list included the following (mostly) drinking-related terms:

I have to go see a man about a dog. To go buy whiskey.

Let’s blouse. We’re out of here.

Ossified. Drunk, probably from having been on a toot, or a drinking binge. Also: splifficated, fried, blotto.

Phonus balonus. Nonsense. (Related: baloney = piffle).

Upchuck. Vomit, probably after too much foot juice or giggle water. (Synonymous: to pull a Daniel Boone is to vomit.)

Zozzled. Drunk.

Ms. Doll goes so far as to suggest that “if you don’t request extra foot juice [cheap wine] tonight at that dive bar where you order the subpar pinot grigio, you are doing something wrong.”  I, on the other hand, recommend a little self-awareness as to avoid a slap in the mouth (or worse, accusations of hipster-hood and/or douchebaggery) from your local bartender.

Rather, do yourself a favor and limit these words’ usage to your home bar, around those who already know your most obnoxious and annoying habits: like using 1920s slang whilst drinking.  Also, writing the word whilst.

Barbara Holland’s Wasn’t the Grass Greener?

Author Barbara Holland’s books are frequently referenced here at The Hip Flask. Most importantly, her words were the inspiration for this blog’s inception, which builds in no small part on her philosophy on the importance of drinking and lamenting. Today, I recommend another book by Holland titled, Wasn’t the Grass Greener? Thirty-Three Reasons Why Life Isn’t as Good as It Used to Be.

This book (the latest entry to my Recommended Reading page) takes the form of a list: 33 people, activities, places, and home furnishings that represent a by-gone and sorely missed period of American history. Among these, and most importantly, are those items and ideas concerning drink, which thanks to Ms. Holland’s love of the bottle, are plentiful.

Most notably her book addresses the absence of taverns and liquor cabinets, which are each increasingly difficult to locate. Holland’s initial thoughts on taverns – in her sharp-witted prose – begin with Andy Capp:

“In Andy’s world there are only three scene changes—his pub, his living room, and the street in between. Sometimes he tries to entice a lass at the bar. Sometimes he brings his wife, to swap acid comments with the bartender. Sometime she awaits him at home, in curlers, with a rolling pin. The story line has a mythic simplicity, and endlessly repeated escapes to conviviality and returns to domesticity.”

Andy’s British attitude on booze, passing only between home and tavern, encapsulates perfectly Holland’s desire for America, the relationship a serious drinker should have with his favorite pub, tavern, or bar. And once you arrive at your favored location – if such a place still exists – Holland believes (as I’ve previously argued) that the television is largely responsible for ruining a quiet drink, alone or with friends.

“Television is noisy. It makes casual conversation an effort and confiding in bartenders too loud to be confidential. Even with the sound turned off, television is distracting. Images squirm around on the screen. A row of people at the bar, confronted by television, tend to ignore each other and stare at the set. The whole purpose of the tavern fades: why be here at all?”

If you choose or must drink at home, a well-stocked liquor cabinet is therefore necessary. Yet even this is becoming a vestige of another time, one that doesn’t center on fitness, efficiency, or productivity. A liquor cabinet was once a symbol of hospitality, where conversations began and acquaintances became friends. And it’s not only liquor cabinets that have disappeared in today’s modern houses, but pianos, desks, radiators and porches, even playing cards and other “old things” – whose sole purpose centered on relaxation, socialization, and deliberation.

Although I enjoyed Holland’s extensive reflections on all things alcohol, my favorite passage from this book was found in the chapter titled “Cities,” which provoked a chuckle when considering my family’s recent addition: “New York was where we wanted to live when we were finally grown up, and drink martinis and stay out past bedtime, not where we wanted to take the toddlers for a weekend of family values.” The God’s honest truth to be sure.

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Please visit The Hip Flask’s Recommended Reading page for other books on drinking culture I’ve enjoyed.