When it comes to brown liquors, it’s easy to feel like you’ve seen everything there is to see (and, frankly, a few things you never wanted to see—we’re looking at you, Fireball). One can become resigned. Depressed. In short, jaded. 

A little while ago, while enjoying a weekend in Baltimore, we wrote up a guide to one of our favorite cities for Cool Hunting. Among the featured locales was Dylan’s Oyster Cellar– in the spirit of Summer Fridays, we encourage you to check out this pop-up before they pop-down in August. 

We get it– you’re a purist. You like your denim raw and your leather full-grain and natural. You don’t do mixers, and you turn your nose up at ice. Flavored liquors? Don’t even joke. 

Like most folks with a predilection toward the exquisitely handmade, we tend to lament (loudly, after a few drinks) the general lack of DIY know-how these days. Lucky for us, the folks at MAKE TRIBE are on a mission that just might shut us up (quite a feat). 

It may be too darn hot for everyone’s favorite sport but, contrary to popular belief, it’s still not too hot for whiskey.

Folks, we’ve got a confession to make: we thought we loved rye. We’d tried just about every one we could get our hands on and enjoyed it all, and so we said without hesitation “we love rye”. But recently, something happened. 

Not to brag, but when it comes to the hard stuff, you know what you’re talking about. You know your whiskey from your whisky, your scotch from your “notch”. You’re comfortable tossing around terms like “sour mash” and “peaty”. 

So, it’s cold out. Real cold. Pretty much too cold to make us want to do anything but make ourselves a nice drink and sit inside with a few friends, trying to forget how cold it is.

For whatever reason, January is traditionally the time of year when we re-ignite our burning love for the Bloody Mary. Maybe it’s something about the end of all those holidays that leads to us requiring the hair of the dog a bit more often, or maybe we’re just internalizing “The Winter of Mixed Drinks” by Frightened Rabbit more deeply than usual due to the weather…who knows.

We made the mistake of not sharing with you the cocktail we made at our last party– and we promised ourselves that this oversight wouldn’t happen again. 

In case you missed it, here’s the interview I did with Mayur Subbarao of eclectic East Village bar Amor y Amargo (translating to “Love and Bitters”), up now over at A&H. 

With any luck, since it’s the 4th of July and all, you’re already a few drinks into celebrating. However, if some unfortunate thing has been keeping you from your patriotic duty thus far, allow us to make a suggestion in the form of the following recipe.

Ever since you were little, people have been telling you how bad secrets are– your mom, your elementary school teacher, the local conspiracy theorist. 

At first glance, you may be wondering why you’re looking at this. It doesn’t appear to be either liquor or menswear. It doesn’t appear to have a selvage line or chain stitching. It doesn’t even appear to be alcoholi– wait. 

There are few things more uniquely American than rye whiskey (we should know). But sometimes certain traditions get lost in the shuffle of history– ask even a big-city bartender what ryes they stock, and you may well receive a blank stare in response. 

We once met some German guys (no, this isn’t the beginning of a limerick) who insisted that the only respectable way to open a bottle of beer was by slamming the neck of it down on a countertop or table, catching the lip of the cap on the edge in the process and thereby jimmying it free. 

We’ll be the first to admit it– as tasty as a nice glass of your preferred vice-on-the-rocks may be, liquor doesn’t, y'know, solve problems. But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t some situations in life when a nip of something could be welcome, or even advisable. 

The first time you had a gin and tonic–it was right after you finished your first year of college, and your dad mixed you one the minute you got in the door, as if this had been a long-decided upon reward for finishing out the year–you believed that all G&Ts were created equal. 

As much as you enjoyed the holidays as a kid–-snowball fights, present overload, hot cocoa–-, even then you knew that there was something special in it for the adults as well. On Christmas Eve, after you kids had been herded upstairs and tucked in tight, something distinctly festive went on. 

OF GRADY'S COLD BREW

OF MORRIS KITCHEN

OF HOUSE SPIRITS DISTILLERY

OF TENNEYSON ABSINTHE