Andrew's Movie Cocktail Guide

It's easy enough to pop open a Pabst Blue Ribbon while you watch Blue Velvet, or to pour a shot or six of whiskey for just about any Western film ever made. But some films have more complicated beverage accompaniments. That's where Furdell Dot Com comes in.

Bonfire of the Vanities
I just saw this famous flop, which inspired this post. In one moderately memorable scene, a character orders Sidecars, even though he's not supposed to be drinking.

Incidentally Wikipedia has some excellent pages about cocktails, the Sidecar included. Unfortunately, a lot of great obscure drinks are nowhere to be found on Wikipedia -- but any time a drink has a Wikipedia page, there seems to be a lot of information.
Wikipedia says the Sidecar is equal parts brandy, Cointreau, and lemon juice in a glass with a sugared rim. Some web sources seem to think you'd be fine with a lesser brand of triple sec, so presumably you could substitute any orange liqueur you have lying around. But to have a proper Bonfire of the Vanties sidecar, you must use Courvoisier. (And it's a safe bet they didn't cheap out on the orange liqueur.)

The Big Clock
This is one of the lighter film noirs ever made, and one of my favorite films. It's a lot of fun, and it introduced me to an excellent drink: the Stinger. It'll get you drunk and freshen your breath all at once!
It's easy to make -- it's just three parts of any brandy mixed with one part of white (that means clear, in liquor parlance) creme de menthe, shaken and strained like a martini. (Drinks like this, containing a base and a liqueur, are called "duos." Bring that up in conversation to look worldly.)

In the film, the overworked main character goes out on the town with his demonic boss's lover, mocking said boss's obsession with the color green by purchasing green things. In a bar, they order a number of Stingers -- "with green mint". The bartender is visibly upset. He takes a sip late in the scene, and finds the drink repulsive. I've never tried a Stinger with green creme de menthe myself, but if you want to do it right for the movie, that's how it should be done.

Basic Instinct
Alcoholic, coke addict, tourist killer, and all around sub-par police detective Michael Douglas falls off the wagon by ordering a drink called a Blackjack. In fact, he orders several double Blackjacks.

This one poses a problem. I've tried to order a Blackjack in a bar before, and nobody ever knows what I'm talking about. (I get some funny looks when I order a Stinger, too, come to think of it.) Furthermore, Google can find you several different recipes that identify themselves as such, but no two of which have a single ingredient in common. Weird. Is it (1) gin, kirschwasser, and creme de cassis? (2) Scotch, Kahlua, triple sec and lemon? (3) Kirschwasser, brandy, and black coffee? (4) Blackberry brandy, regular brandy, Jägermeister and heavy cream? God, I hope not.

Let's settle this method once and for all, democratically, using the Google recipe method. I'll Google the word "Blackjack" with each combination of ingredients to see how many hits I get.

(1) 518 pages;
(2) 532 pages;
(3) 21,000 pages;
(4) 975 pages.

That worked better than I thought it would. It wasn't the recipe I was pulling for, but it's settled: a Blackjack is some combination of kirschwasser, brandy, and cold coffee. This would come out the right color, but most recipes call for it to be shaken and strained -- Detective Nick Whatever drinks it on the rocks. Also, it seems unlikely that a guy into such extreme levels of vice would favor such a girlie drink. Maybe it's just a random word that Joe Eszterhas thought sounded drink-like. I'd say, if you're going to pair this drink with the movie, punch it up by substituting kahlua for coffee, and throw some vodka in there. On second thought, maybe you should just have a beer with this one. I think they drink beer in this movie.

Die Another Day
In most of the Bond pictures, Agent OO7 is pretty predictable with his drinks. He likes his vodka martinis shaken not stirred, of course -- as if anyone stirs a martini. And he likes unreasonably expensive champagnes -- who doesn't? But occasionally he finds himself in the odd exotic locale known for its local drink, and as Bond will tell you, when in such a land "one should delve deeply into its treasures." (Imagine Roger Moore saying that in the most sleazy way possible -- referring to a harem of Egyptian women as well as to a local liqueur -- for a less memorable scene from The Spy Who Loved Me.)

Die Another Day sends Bond to Cuba, where he drinks, thank you Jesus, the Mojito. This is a drink I know how to make, dammit. It's a rum drink with lime juice, mixed with mint and sugar -- delicious, but most people can't drink more than a couple of them because they're so sweet. My very scientific recipe called for 20 crushed mint leaves, 7 tablespoons of sugar, 6 limes (or, if you have the patience, 18 key limes), and 10-12 ounces of rum for a batch of what turned out to be about four Mojitos. When you're ready to serve it, add a splash of soda (I usually used generic Lemon-Lime soda). I liked to go crazy with the garnishes, to highlight each of the non-alcoholic ingredients: a spring of mint, a half of a key lime, and a few inches of sugar cane (which doubles as a chewable stir).

Casino Royale
I was pleased that they adapted, for the latest Bond film, one of the more memorable scenes from the source material, in which Bond orders a very strong, very big drink that he names the Vesper after the sneaky broad he's falling for. The vodka martini is so obvious -- the Vesper should be the drink you associate with James Bond.

Unfortunately, you'll never taste the Vesper the way Bond did (which is perhaps all the more appropriate -- you can't kill people like James Bond, so you shouldn't be drinking his drink either, Poindexter.) Originally, Bond's very specific recipe called for a lot of Gordon's gin, some vodka, and Kina Lillet, these days (and even when the book was written) just known as Lillet.

Vodka and gin are both less potent than they were when Bond invented his liver-busting drink; Gordon's gin, ordered by name in the novel, is probably not appropriate anymore. But the real problem is Lillet, which underwent a change for the less bitter in the 1980s when its quinine content was lowered. You could add some quinine of your own, or Angostura bitters, but it'll never be quite the same, will it? As Bond says in the end of the novel and the film, "the bitch is dead."

Do not trust Pup when it comes to foods

It turns out my most humiliatingly bad gamble in Vegas this year was the money I plunked down at the Beef Jerky Store for a big bag of candy labeled "Happy Plum." Pup assured me that this stuff was delicious -- sweet on the outside, sour on the inside. Sounds great, right?

Well, Pup, if you like a candy whose top Google hit is a site called Bad-Candy.com, you gotta start thinking about not recommending candy to people.

At first it tasted mildly sweet; then it tasted exactly like lots and lots of salt. I mean, like if salt could be made to taste more salty, that would be Happy Plum.

I brought it into the newsroom to trick other people into eating it. Apparently they did, and they hated it, but there's still plenty left over. It's a big bag. I should've just bought more buffalo jerky.

My brother: The greatest

I'm stuck at work on election day, with no dinner break. And, unlike previous years, my employers are not providing food.

Well, let me tell you from experience that there are few pizzas tastier than the one sent long-distance by a sympathetic brother.

A bittersweet chili competition for me

The first annual KEZI chili cookoff happened today. Something like a dozen crockpots full of chili, some terrible, some mediocre, and some made by me.

I was worried early on when I discovered that everyone else had electric crockpots and hot plates to keep their chili warm. Mine had the sun. So, about an hour and a half into it, my chili had cooled down considerably...this may have cost me votes.

Had presentation been a consideration, my halved and seeded jalapeno/fresno pepper arrangement would certainly have won first prize; indeed, it got a close-up during the first 6 o'clock weather segment. Weatherman slash local celebrity John Fischer, an avid gardner, was impressed by the squash and carrots in my recipe, and even asked me a few questions on camera. (I explained that my job is to do the jingle when his seven-day outlook comes on the screen.)

My friends and I agreed that the best chilis were mine (#8) and #12, which billed itself as "tex-mex". I also liked #2, which I figured for a third place finish.

Of course it didn't turn out that way. #7, a chili by all acounts too sweet, finished first in a landslide, only approached by second-place finisher #5, a fine but mostly uninteresting chili. Both of these chilis got more than double the number of votes of the third-place finisher. Votes cost $1 each, and the top prize was a $200 gift certificate, so I suppose some strategic ballot-stuffing may have been at hand.

Third place would have been #2, but apparently she had left the cookoff early and was therefore disqualified. So, on a technicality, I squeaked into third place from my rightful spot at "distant fourth", and received a $100 gift certificate to a coastal resort called Embarcadero.

Yes, yes, "congratulations" and so forth, but I'm very bitter. Fourth place? Come on people! That was some dynomite chili I put together! It had buffalo and lamb in it! And Rogue Chipotle Ale! Was anyone else up at 4am preparing their chili so it could simmer for twelve hours? I think not! The top prize went to a guy who froze his chili! FROZE IT!!!

Well, I told myself I'd be happy as long as I won something, but clearly that's not true. It doesn't help that I managed to win only while still losing. Bah I say. Bah!

Uh oh.

KEZI is hosting the First Annual Chambers Communications Chili Cookoff on Tuesday...which just happens to be my day off. All I can say is, those other chilis better bring it.

Boo...yah.

Ann Coulter vs. Pie

Evil crackpot lunatic Ann Coulter was recently hit by two delicious, creamy custard pies. Said Coulter after the assault: "Oh, a wiseguy eh? Nyahh nyahh -- woo woo woo woo woo woo! You knuckleheads."

Little known Furdell fact: once, my then-roommate bought a cocunut cream pie and then slammed me in the face with it in the parking lot. Just getting hit with a pie wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't put so much force behind the damned thing.