    "Eating, drinking and carrying on..." -- Adelaide Brennan Shop New Orleans! Help the city of New Orleans and its people by doing your Christmas shopping there, online, from these links. You'll be adding much-needed dollars to the local economy. Thanks!!
Auld lang syne. It's been a rough year. The debacle of this nation's government and its behavior notwithstanding, for the first eight months it was a pretty damned good year, actually. The last four months have been ... difficult. In part, this weblog has served as great therapy for me, allowing me to feel as if I was doing something for my city, no matter how small. Helping keep people informed and in touch with the local situation, if by no other means than pointing them in the right directions, helped me and from the volume of email I've received, helped a lot of other folks too. Thank you all. Thanks to the participants in the comments section, too. (Well, all but one or two ... for those others, who seem intent on wallowing in their own blindness and hatred, I can feel pity, but that's about it.) In New Orleans, they're partying in the Quarter and lowering the gumbo pot at midnight. At our place, we're going to spend New Year's Eve at home, in the company of some of my oldest friends from New Orleans and their kids, eating and drinking and talking about old times and the new challengess we all face, and being thankful for all that we have; everyone's safe and healthy, and that's what's important. Have a happy, safe and healthy New Year, y'all. Be good. Punch! If you're going to throw a party, make punch. It's easy, tasty (if you pick the right one), and you don't have to spend all night mixing drinks for people. The key is finding the right punch. As our friend Dr. Cocktail points out in his excellent recent post on punches, simply go to CocktailDB, enter the word "punch" in the search box and you come up with 98 of them. I found even more looking through some of my old cocktail recipe books. Still, as interesting as many of them looked, I wasn't exactly lighting up with excitement. We had some folks over for a holiday party last night, and the punch was the talk of the living room. This is yet another of the pleasures of life for which we must thank Dr. Cocktail, who in the above article finally provided the recipe for the best punch I've ever had, one that dates back to the early 19th Century and which in 1893 was named "Columbian Punch" at the first world's fair, the 1893 Columbian World Exposition in Chicago, which celebrated the near-quadricentennial (so they were a year late, big deal) of Columbus' "discovery" of America (Natives: "Um, you can't discover us, we already live here!" Columbus: "Do you have a flag?"). I'll research and attempt a few other punch recipes that looked interesting, but out of at least two dozen recipes I studied this week, none was as interesting as this. It's fantastic.
This is unbelievably good, and not for the faint-hearted either (i.e., it's mostly booze). Rather than shriek, "J'accuse! You stole me idea, you young cur!", Doc was, of course, flattered that I had made the punch, as to the best of his knowledge no one other than him had made this stuff in the last hundred years or so. For the rum I used a fifth of Appleton Estate, topped off with some Myers' Dark to make a quart. For the brandy I used Courvoisier VS, which was on sale for $19.99 for a 750ml, in a lovely gift box with two narrow brandy-and-soda glasses (such a deal). You, of course, have a bottle of green Chartreuse in your bar (along with a bottle of the yello variety) because, although pricey, they last a long time and are indispensible for any number of truly extraordinary cocktails. Green Chartreuse makes an excellent post-prandial digestivo as well. "How long did it take you to find that tea?" Oooo, long. (God, that was bad. You are allowed to strike me now.) That was, in fact, one of Doc's questions last night ... "And where did you manage to find the oolong tea for the punch?" "Well, it was kind of a bitch, actually." In my ignorance, I kept looking for little boxes of it in supermarkets, actually expecting to find oolong tea bags. No go. Even the big, expensive yuppie grocery paradise that is Gelson's didn't have any (although white tea seems to be the big trendy thing now). I knew that there was only one place that'd take care of me, and should have gone there in the first place: Bamboo Tea House in Pasadena. Not only did they have oolong tea, they had eight different oolong teas for me to choose from. Fortunately, the nice lady behind the counter was an expert, and helped me choose the Amber Oolong from Taiwan, after describing the characteristics of the different teas and allowing me to smell all of them. I admitted that it didn't have to be particularly delicate or special, as it was an ingredient in a punch (she seemed a bit nonplussed at that), and a standard, garden-variety oolong would do just fine. I was fascinated by the tea's appearance; it seemed to come in little dark green rocks. The "rocks" were actually tightly curled whole tea leaves, which unfurl beautifully after the boiling water hits them. About a tablespoon per cup, she advised, and give it several minutes in the leaves. The leaves are also apparently good for four batches of tea. "Drink the first cup," she said. "It's good ... but second cup is better." She was right. We saved the leaves in the fridge and brewed another pot this morning. Lovely, lovely stuff. We'll have more later tonight. The Green Family tree. "Imagine this was your mother," said Rena in her dKos diary highlighting CNN's extraordinary story of the Green family of New Orleans' Lower Ninth Ward. "Every scourging lash Hurricane Katrina could hurl landed on the Green family's back. Broken levees, shredded houses, a dead matriarch, a drowned baby, Convention Center cruelty, sniper fire, oblivious officials -- across four generations, they lived it all. Theirs is a story of loss and love." 
From Rena's diary:
This horror, and all the other stories like it, prompt the biggest question of 2005 for me: How are we ever to be the same after this? (The short answer: We won't be.) George Bush's "moral clarity". Via Greg Saunders at "This Modern World" weblog, and Atrios: "Former British Ambassador to Uzbekistan Craig Murray is defying a gag-order and publishing torture memos on his blog relating to the coordination between the Uzbek, British, and American governments. As Kos says, it's brutal."
Saunders: "Here's what the partnership looks like in action."
Saunders again:
Answer these questions, apologists. It's gonna be a bad year for the Bugman. An outstanding piece of reporting by the Washington Post tells us more of the things Tom DeLay is going to have to answer for in 2006:
And they say it's all legal. Uh huh ... well, DeLay's a genius at laundering money, but then the money from this so-called "grass-roots advocacy group" was used to buy attack ads aimed at Democrats? And paid a bullshit salary to his wife? And he bought a house to hang out in? And he was bought off by the Russians? And Abramoff is in the middle of it all? "When Abramoff sings," said Steve M. in an email this morning, "it's going to be Wagnerian." Squash him, Brunnhilde. [ Link to today's entries ]
O'Neil Broyard, 1937-2005. I had heard a rumor of this a few days ago, and was waiting for confirmation before I said anything. Sadly, that confirmation came this morning from the Times-Picayune via Michael. O'Neil Broyard, the owner of the legendary Saturn Bar on St. Claude Ave. in the Ninth Ward, passed away on December 22, five days shy of this 68th birthday. He had been sick on and off for the past four to five years, and had been known to close the bar as early as 8pm on a Saturday night because he wasn't feeling well. 
Back in October I posted a wonderful, long interview with O'Neil from the Southern Folkways Alliance, and it's time to read it now if you haven't before. Here's the excerpt I posted in October:
Thanks for the Saturn Bar and all those beers, O'Neil. Meme time. Bored at work? Me too. I ain't got no vacation time left, so I'm stuck here; the place is nearly deserted and my phone hasn't rung once all week (except for Mom and Dad calling yesterday, and that certainly wasn't work-related). I meant to bring in a few DVDs to watch today, but I forgot, so I crave distraction. I rarely participate in these blog-meme things that keep going around like common cold viruses and their resulting phlegm, but unfortunately found myself sucked in. I saw this one on Poppy's journal, and it looked like fun. Here's how our game is played: Open your music player and set it to shuffle. Write down the first line of lyrics from each of the first 25 songs that come up. (Skip any instrumental pieces.) Let people guess, and then underline or strike out songs as they are correctly identified. Well, I cheated a little, 'cause I just went backwards from the current song I was listening to on my iPod through the previous 25, instrumentals excluded. I weeded out songs that give away the title in their opening line, to make it more challenging. I've also included songs that are in languages other than English as bonus items. I'll still count it if you guess a song that has a zillion versions, even if you don't guess who did the version I was playing (as if you'd have any way of knowing anyway). And no Googling the lyrics, or else you're a big cheatin' bastard. Ready? Okay!
Okay, there are a few hard ones in there ... Game of four. Argh! More meme madness! Everyone must be seriously bored this week; even Tom Tomorrow is doing it. Okay, well, this'll fill three minutes:
Okay, now what? [ Link to today's entries ]
Can the restaurants save us? You know, that hoary old saying that New Orleanians don't eat to live, we live to eat, has probably never been truer than it is now.
Read the whole thing, about the crowds outside Parkway Tavern, the daily party that is dinner at Clancy's, the restaurant regulars tearing up and telling wait staff how much it means to them that they're there, open and that everything -- at least inside the restaurant -- is perfect. Food goes a long way toward healing the soul, now more than ever. Yum yum yum. Ah, it's time for those endless year-end Top Ten lists (I'll undoubtedly add one or three of my own), but it's okay when they're as luscious as this. Here's the list of the top ten recipes from the Los Angeles Times' Food Section:
I remember reading several of these and thinking, "Ooh! I want to try this!" and never getting around to doing it. Now's my second chance (man, I wanna do that pork shoulder next weekend after New Year's). Quote of the day. From Roy at Alicublog:
How things change ... [ Link to today's entries ]
Mr. Bingle saves Christmas. Over the last four months the Los Angeles Times has been doing a great job keeping New Orleans in their headlines, pointing out the still dire situation there and making sure that their readers don't forget what New Orleanians are still going through. Today they posted a surprising and touching story of our beloved Mr. Bingle, and how he helped save what would have been a pretty dismal Christmas this year.  We also come to find out that the voice of Mr. Bingle, the symbol of Christmas to three generations of New Orleanians, was Jewish. How 'bout that? (Oscar Isentrout died 20 years ago, alone and penniless, and was buried in an unmarked grave; just this month, a donated headstone, engraved with the image or Mr. Bingle, was placed at his grave in Hebrew Rest Cemetery.) And then, there's this. Happy holidays. Fear destroys what bin Laden could not. An op-ed by Robert Steinback from the Miami Herald:
I'd give almost anything to hear a presidential candidate speak like this. [ Link to today's entries ]
Cocktail of the season: It's official! The yet-unnamed holiday cocktail I came up with the other day now has an independent taster, a thumbs-up and a name! Paul Clarke at The Cocktail Chronicles was kind and trusting enough to give my new drink a whirl and came away impressed. (Thanks!) He doesn't think I should tinker with it any more, so I won't. Given that it has a similar development history to the Hoskins Cocktail, in that I wanted no one ingredient to predominate and for them all work together toward the whole, and that in both cases Wes tried the first attempt, said "ehh" and suggested swapping proportions between two ingredients whereupon the bell rang, the lightbulb lit and we shrieked "Eureka!", I ain't touchin' it no more. I wanted the holiday season in a glass, and I guess I did all right. (I like it, anyway.) The acid test, of course, will be when I make one for Dr. Cocktail next Friday. Oh, and the name? Just as I was about to bestow upon this drink the well-intentioned yet supremely dopey name "Bingle Cocktail" (named, of course, for Mr. Bingle, beloved New Orleans Christmas mascot), Wes thought better of it. The name he suggested evokes Christmas, especially Christmas eve, but also the recent New Orleans spin on the old tradition that expands the feasting of la veille de Noël all season long ...
Serve on Christmas Eve, throughout the Twelve Days of Christmas ... or whenever you want. "And why the feck are you posting to your weblog on Christmas Eve?! Flat on my back sick since I got home from the radio station Thursday night, all day yesterday (killing my plans for my day off) and although feeling a tad better today, still staying inside and taking it very easy. Going a little stir-crazy to boot. I'm medicated up the proverbial wazoo, resting rather intensely and hope that I'll be able to drag my slightly-recovered carcass out of bed in time for Christmas Eve services tonight, and dinner at Saladang Song (gotta love the ethnic restaurants that are open Christmas Eve ... beheaded ducks optional). Joyeux Noël! Nollag shona dhaiobh! Feliz Navidad! Mele Kalikimaka! [ Link to today's entries ]
Happy Holidays to everyone! (Well, almost everyone.) Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Good Solstice, Joyous Kwanzaa ... whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope you have a happy one (except if you're Bill O'Reilly). And to all my fellow New Orleanians ... 
(Thanks to Peter for sending the picture.) "All right, that's it ... everybody get dressed. We are going OUT ... to eat!" (In the immortal words of Darren McGavin.) For the first time in my life, that's what we're doing on Christmas Day. (Nobody felt like cooking.) No, we're not going to the Chop Suey Palace for beheaded duck, but behind the Orange Curtain for New Orleans food. Ralph Brennan's Jazz Kitchen is open, and this is the guy behind Mr. B's, Bacco, The Red Fish Grill and Ralph's on the Park -- great stuff. We've been to the Jazz Kitchen a number of times (and I still dream about that Pannéed Veal topped with Jumbo Lump Crabmeat and Artichokes), and I love it. It'll make me feel better to be there, since I couldn't make it home to New Orleans for Christmas this year. I'll have food porn on this by next week. Y'all have a great holiday meal! New Orleans foodblogging. Via Robert, a new food weblog called On the Line in New Orleans offers a behind-the-scenes look at the state of food in the city. It's written by Betsy Andrews, a writer for Food and Wine magazine who's on assignment to do this in New Orleans for the foreseeable future. What a fantastic idea.
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