Lovey's Making Old Fashioneds for Cocktail Hour
And I don't mean a Wisconsin Old Fashioned. Plus, nostalgia for 'Punk Rock Girl', beach reads and why people are moving to Peoria.
Happy Friday, y’all! We made it to Cocktail Hour.
It’s been a crazy week for me. I filed two — two — stories for the New York Times this week. I literally went from zero material on Tuesday morning to a full-fledged story on Wednesday night. Whew!
Plus, I got to dive into very sexy things like “insured cash sweep accounts” and FDIC deposit insurance limits. But I am reminded how much I love the reporting process and talking to people.
So for our drink this week, I’m going back to an old fave: The Old Fashioned. It is our go-to drink during the winter, and Lovey1 makes my favorite iteration.
First though, I think we need to discuss something very Midwestern: The Wisconsin Old Fashioned. Did you know they were a thing? Yeah, me neither.
The Bestie™ and I were sitting in a bar in downtown Milwaukee, having just arrived from Michigan on the Lake Express ferry (it takes 2.5 hours to cross Lake Michigan), and I was ready for an Old Fashioned, my go-to drink if I’m not ready to head straight into a bourbon, neat. It’s a simple mix of bourbon (I prefer rye), sugar (light!) and bitters, served iced cold. Simple, yet so terribly easy to f*ck up.
Anyway, I look over and see the bartender tarting up my humble Old Fashioned like it’s Fancy and her momma is about to turn her out. There is fruit. And muddling. And 7-Up.
What in the bloody hell is happening here, I think.
But my brain can’t react fast enough to stop it. The Bestie™ looks on in horror as the bartender places a highball glass in front of me and drops a skewer of maraschino cherries on top.
I've had this version of an Old Fashioned too many times in the Midwest, in nice places like this and in joints where I ought not have been ordering anything more than a shot or a beer.2 When I’ve gotten these undrinkable abominations, I usually assume it is an untrained bartender or some miscommunication.3
But this time, I needed answers.
So we turned to the Google Box and discovered that this is called a Wisconsin Old Fashioned. This variety is made with brandy, sweet soda toppings and lots of fruit.4
“Wisconsinites are conservative people, skeptical of trends and unimpressed by the worldly ways of the rest of the country,” Robert Simonson, author of The Old-Fashioned, and a Wisconsin native, told Wine Enthusiast magazine. “Once they find something they like, they stick to it and see no reason to change,” he says. “The brandy Old Fashioned wasn’t broken, so they never fixed it.”
I cannot co-sign the Wisconsin Old Fashioned — too sweet! — but I have mad respect for a people with such deep loyalty in the face of sheer wrongheadedness. It’s like being a Lions fan.
So, instead, I am offering you Lovey’s Old Fashioned recipe, which he perfected during the pandemic. It's a take on the classic that is both more bitter and has more depth thanks to the molasses simple syrup he substitutes for the sugar cube muddled in bitteres that most recipes call for.
We use simple syrup because I'm not somebody who remembers to stock sugar cubes, whereas I can cook sugar and water as easily as pouring a glass of wine5. We also make our own orange bitters, but that's a story for another day. Until then, you can buy them at most liquor stores.
Lovey’s Old Fashioned
Ingredients
2 oz. rye whiskey
1 bar spoon simple syrup
1 bar spoon molasses simple syrup
3 dashes Angostura bitters
2 dashes orange bitters
Orange peel for garnish
Directions: Combine rye whiskey — or bourbon, if that’s your preference — the simple syrups and bitters in a glass with ice. Stir until cold and slightly diluted, ~ 20 seconds. Strain into a glass with ice.
Extra credit if you use a giant ice cube. They aren’t just cocktail pretentiousness; large, single cubes don't melt as fast and are better for dilution. But don’t waste your money on the fun Death Star and Skull molds. They don’t keep their shape long enough to matter. A basic square or sphere is perfect.
Simple syrup directions: Combine equal parts sugar and water in a saucepan. Heat until the sugar is fully dissolved. (5ish minutes) Cool. Store in the refrigerator.
Molasses simple syrup: This is, essentially a dilution. Pour equal parts molasses syrup and water into a saucepan. Heat until fully integrated. (5ish minutes.) Cool. Store in the refrigerator.
WHAT I’M READING: Beach Reads Ahoy!
Spring is almost here, which means it’s time to start thinking about what you’ll be reading this summer. (Some people game plan their gardens and planting; I game plan my summer reading list.)
For me, a beach read is all plot, plot, plot; I want something that moves. Mix in a little mystery, a little romance and a healthy dose of good writing, and I’m staying in my shady spot until the book is done. And with the Libby library app, I can easily download my next delicious diversion. (Thankfully, Lovey is an excellent drink butler and keeps me fortified.) Here are a few of my recent raves.
📚 Code Name Helene by Ariel Lawhon. Historical fiction based on a real woman who led the French Resistance in WW2 wearing Victory Red lipstick. (For real.)
📚 The Last Train to Key West by Chanel Cleeton. Key West, Labor Day weekend, 1935. A hurricane threatens the island. Three families changed forever. I devoured it and immediately downloaded the two other books in her Cuba Keys series.
📚 Best Laid Plans by Gwen Florio. Mystery with a female protagonist who discovers how strong she can be. Revenge! Bears! Murder! Gritty and fun; not gory. When you're done, check out her Lola Wix series.
📚 Hello, Summer by Mary Kay Andrews. Great beach read formula by one of the masters of the genre. Girl forced to return home to deal with *the past*, a potential love interest, home renovation, and a whodunit!
📚 Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins. You’ve probably watched Daisy Jones and The Six, the Amazon Prime adaption of her book. (You haven’t? It’s fun! The book is better.) So don’t sleep on her followup, Malibu Rising. Siblings left to raise themselves. Surfing. Girl power. Rockstar dad. Family secrets.
📚 Songs in Ursa Major by Emma Brodie. Another literary novel with even more family secrets. Plus rock and roll! Romance! Scandal! Nostalgia! Based loosely on the relationship between Joni Mitchell and James Taylor. When I watched Daisy Jones & The Six, I actually kept wanting it to be the plot for this novel.
📚 The Summer Wives by Beatriz Williams. Fizzy. Dizzy. 1930s society set on the New England coast. A baby. But whose? Star-crossed lovers between the locals and the summer people.
PIECE OF ADVICE: How to Say No to “Grabbing Coffee”
Do we really have to go back to networking and coffee meetings and brain pickings? Harvard Business Review says you can say no to the energy vampires!
If you receive a request that seems unreasonable given your relationship to the seeker, you can let it go, the same way you might ignore an offer from someone wanting to buy your house when it isn’t listed for sale.
We’re all experts at something. Tell me your piece of advice by leaving it in the comments or emailing it to amy@barheart.us. I’d love to include it in an upcoming edition.
3 THINGS I’M READING ON THE INTERWEBZ
“How a TikToker Brought Hundreds of Transplants to Peoria” by Anna Kode in The New York Times
“The idea of a $50,000 house was not anywhere on my radar. It was not something that I knew could even exist,” said Ms. Munguía, 30. “I showed my partner and was like, ‘hey, would you ever consider moving somewhere else?’”
It was 2020, and Ms. Munguía and her partner were living in the Seattle suburb of Renton, Wash. Life felt like a slog — the rent for their 800-square-foot apartment was $2,000 a month, and the thought of ever owning a home seemed implausible.
“In 2016 I Wrote a Poem That Went Viral. My Marriage Was Never the Same,” by Maggie Smith in The Cut
As I told a reporter from the Columbus Dispatch, my hometown paper, “I feel like I go into a phone booth and I turn into a poet sometimes. Most of the other time, I’m just Maggie who pushes the stroller.” But my marriage was never the same after that poem.
One night, lying next to me in bed, my husband told me I was famous. He said it quietly in the dark. In his inflection, I heard sadness. I heard you’re not the same anymore, you’re gone somehow.
“I’m not famous,” I said. “I just wrote a famous poem.” It wasn’t the same thing.
I said it as a kind of apology, as reassurance, because I felt like I’d been accused of something. In my inflection, I hoped he’d hear I’m the same, I’m just me, I’m right here.
Loving New York magazine’s “are u coming?” newsletter about NYC nightlife.
Do I live there? Not anymore. Do I want to move back? Call me when the real estate market crashes. But it reminds me of that delicious time in my twenties when these could have been my adventures. Even the fashion is eerily similar to my late 1990s stylings.
WHAT WE’RE BINGEING: Crime Scene Kitchen
Crime Scene Kitchen was officially renewed for a second season and is scheduled to start this spring. So I’m bringing back this recommendation from former Bar\Heart editor Caitlin Cruz.
This baking show is exactly what you would expect from its name. Each week, four teams face off to reconstruct a baked good based on clues found in the “Crime Scene Kitchen."
Joel McHale is a truly forgettable and sometimes aggravating host, but the teams, made of pairs, are fun to root for. YouTube phenom Yolanda Gampp and chef Curtis Stone are tough-but-fair judges, and the “crime scenes” make for interesting puzzles. It airs on Fox, but my girlfriend and I just watched it all on Hulu in three nights.
MUST HAVE: Shaker Lids for Mason Jars
Of course, you don’t really have to have the things I put in the “must have” section. But once upon a time I was an editor at a high-end magazine for very rich people and each week we ran a “must have” section where I, a girl from a trailer in rural Colorado, told said rich people what to buy. I included things like $7,000 whiskey sets. Because, why not? Here in Bar\Heart, I often tell you about the things I fall in love with, that change my life — or that I wish would. But again, I once told people they needed a $7,000 whiskey set, so YMMV.
I swear, this is not one of those hipster, farmhouse chic things6. No, this is a for-reals-and-trues life hack.
Have you ever tried making a cocktail in your fancy, design-forward cocktail shaker only to discover...you can’t get it open? Yeah, me, too. You can learn to bash it open like a bartender does — or you can just use a mason jar with a shaker lid.
I swear, this is as God herself intended them to be used even though the packaging says the shaker lids are for storing spices. (Sort of how vibrators are marketed as back massagers.)
Here’s how it works: For shaken drinks, like last week’s Paper Plane, pour in all your ingredients, add some ice, screw on the shaker lid and top; and shake vigorously for about 30 seconds. Pop the top and strain into a glass. Voila! Deliciousness.
It works equally well for making several stirred drinks at once, such as Lovey's Old Fashioneds. Add a handful of ice to the jar; measure in the ingredients; and stir, stir, stir! (You don't even need a fancy cocktail spoon; a regular teaspoon is long enough to do the trick.) When it’s good and cold, screw on the shaker top and strain into a glass with ice7.
Sure, a mason jar isn’t as pretty as that cut glass mixing vessel West Elm keeps showing you on Insta, but this one has a hidden benefit: If you trade out the shaker top for a basic canning lid and ring, you’ve got a roadie!
Your Weekly Cute Critter: Marcellus!
Meet Sir Ringo, the octopus who lives in the Belle Isle Aquarium near my house. The public voted to name the new resident Sir Ringo. I don’t love it. So I call him Marcellus, after the giant Pacific octopus in the delightful book Remarkably Bright Creatures. Marcellus is a curmudgeon, and alternating chapters of the book are told from his perspective. I loved getting to spend time inside his imagined brain.
Now I like to go visit Sir Ringo, errr, Marcellus, and hang out with him and imagine what types of capers he might get up to. You know they’re really, really clever, right?
Ok. That’s it for this week.
See you on Tuesday with, I believe, part two of paczki madness!
P.S. If you enjoyed this, I love to know. Feel free to leave a comment below. And share this with a friend!
P.P.S. A friend just posted a photo of her daughter on South Street in Philadelphia. (Fuck. How did that happen. She was just five and giving me double rocks hands! You might know it as hook-em-horns; but we are metal.)
Now I can’t get the Dead Milkmen’s “Punk Rock Girl” out of my head. I, personally, never took a walk to Zipperhead. I did take a walk to Imi Jimis and Wax Trax in Denver, though.
For those of you just joining us, Lovey is my husband’s nickname. Almost everyone calls him that, not just me.
No shade; I love me a dive bar.
I always taught Michigan State students how to make a proper Old Fashioned, lest they use their bartending powers for evil.
Internet articles tell me the fruit may or may not have been added during prohibition to hide the poor quality of the hooch being served.
Pro tip: Do not buy simple syrup at the store. It’s too easy to make at home. Just mix together 1 part sugar and 1 part water in a saucepan (Ex: 1 cup to 1 cup.) Heat over medium until the sugar crystals dissolve Let cool; store in the refrigerator. Same story for molasses simple syrup: Just mix 1:1 molasses and water, cooking on low until combined.
To be fair, I do use mason jars as drink glasses at home because, well, I grew up canning, and I still can, and I have so damned many.
Extra credit if you use giant cubes; they don't melt as fast and are better for dilution. But don’t waste your money on the fun Death Star and Skull molds. They don’t keep their shape long enough to matter. A basic square or sphere is perfect.
I love your column! I read it and feel I just met a new interesting friend at a bar and we had a great conversation and I hated to leave.
I really do have a hard "no fruit" rule for old fashioneds.