#LiteraryCocktails & Mocktails
by Andrew Adamson ~ Design & Text by Lisa Kristel

Chantha Nguon & Kim Green ~ Slow Noodles ~ The Weave When you desire flavor, one of those commodities you crave beyond measure… When you recall years of hunger, or that feeling of helpless limbo, a “nowhereness,” turn to this #LiteraryCocktail. It is not like the “new Saigon, tasteless and colorless, devoid of flavor. It is unlike the recipe for theoretical utopias and its simple process of subtraction, of removing choices. Instead, it allows room for flavorful ingredients and memories of home. While unrelenting trauma is a recipe for anxiety, depression, and far worse, we’ve woven this recipe to offer relief.

The Weave 1 oz Hendrick’s Gin / .5 oz housemade lemongrass-makrut lime leaf syrup / .5 oz fresh lime juice / equal measures of love and care / 2.5 oz chilled Brut Prosecco

Method: Remember, don’t rush. Time equals love, and love equals deliciousness. Remove the peel and roll the soft, skinless lime against a tile so you can squeeze out every drop of juice—as if this is the only lime for thirty kilometers of rain-choked forest …or Long Island suburbia. Measure the first three ingredients into a mixer with ice, and be sure to add the love and care. Like the secret to making broth rich and clear, they will add depth to this #LiteraryCocktail. Shake to weave the flavors together into something strong and light, tough and resilient. Strain into a wine glass over fresh ice. Top with prosecco and see it sparkle and cut like diamonds, like you and the women you’ve nurtured—no longer pliant or delicate. Garnish with a weaving sword …or a thin lemongrass stalk… and a strong sense of self-reliance.

Now taste. Savor its fresh lime and sugar, a drink juicy, clean, and crisp enough to quench even the deepest [malarial] thirst. Let these flavor memories bring laughter, not tears.

 Best served with rice and a dash of resolve. …and a bowl of crunchy lotus seeds.

Tim Tomlinson / This Is Not Happening to You / The Poetry of Ahhhhhh According to the LSU Agriculture Center, hibiscus thrive in brown-black Louisiana loam, with or without the addition of…something pink-green. We hope this #LiteraryMocktail turns out to be as effective an antidote to thirst as an ice-cold forty and as far-flung as possible from whatever volumes and mixtures of alcohol ancient Saturday-night debaucheries led your character to consume. And its ginger kick may engender genius, discovered, at last.

The Poetry of Ahhhhhh 2 oz hibiscus tea / .75 oz fresh puréed ginger / 1 oz fresh lime juice / 1 oz agave / thyme

 Measure the first four ingredients into a mixer with ice. Now hold it to your ear and shake. Listen to that reassuring [knocking], the audio anesthetic of it, the promise of its wet sizzle, soon to be slipping down your raggedly parched esophagus. Strain into a highball with fresh ice and garnish with a sprig of thyme, or whatever weed you find pushing up from the dirt under the nearest banana tree. With this #LiteraryCocktail, there’s no need to suspend disgust. Go ahead and take a sip and…Ahhhhhh.

 Suggested accompaniment: Avocado, bitten, or no. Optional: Extra-Strength Tylenol.

Kevin Boehm ~ The Bottomless Cup ~ Indigo Dream When the future you have in mind is too tenuous to voice… When the pressure becomes smothering… When you’re touching tables, firing on the fly, in the extreme weeds… When you’re fucked and you don’t have the first clue how to begin the unfucking… It is quite likely time to mix up this #LiteraryMocktail for some much deserved solace. It’s a tribute to Indigo. Its flavors are reminiscent of the sushi served there; the song we’re playing is the one that always received a collective cheer, and the color is a deep indigo blue. (Young man, we are also beautiful liars.)

Indigo Dream 2 oz Seedlip Grove 42 N/A Spirit / 1 oz Yuzu / .75 oz miso soy caramel / .75 oz egg white

Measure ingredients into a mixer with ice. Add a generous amount of ambition and adrenalin, tempered with a dose of self-awareness. Shake as a reminder of your own past rudderlessness, the motion like the spin and whir of your panicked heart, and STOP. Let everything settle and… strain into a coupe. Garnish with candied ginger. Taste and discover the legitimate peace and balance of flavors. Pretty righteous, no? Do a quick Quadrinity check and let that massive chip firmly in place on your shoulder—that phantom parrot to your itinerant pirate—fly away.

Serve with a shot of Chicago’s infamous Malört, but since that’s both smothering and intoxicating, let’s send that flying too.

Though Justin could not be there, we still served his delicious #LiteraryCocktail, based on a recipe from his book:

Justin Burke ~ Potluck Desserts ~ Torchbearer This #LiteraryCocktail is a tribute to your grandma’s good friend Shirley, to her wild spirit, her famous cake, and especially, her zest for life. It is not a cobbler, a buckle, or a sonker; it’s not a slump, a dump, or a trifle. But it is a yum-yum, a lush, a delight! Like your cookbook, it is a celebration to uplift you, a torchbearer meant to bring your story to the world—and into our little corner of Oyster Bay.

Torchbearer / 2 oz Smith & Cross Traditional Jamaica Rum / 1 oz fresh mandarin orange juice / .75 oz pineapple juice / .25 oz simple syrup / 1 oz egg white / 3 drops orange blossom water

Measure ingredients into a mixer. Add some resilience and advocacy, strength and defiance, and… ice. Shake until grief and loss melt into growth and pride, and keep shaking until you break those boundaries [once] deemed “necessary.” Strain over fresh ice into a collins glass. Garnish with torched, expressed orange zest [for life] and a mint leaf. Sip and taste the flavors of your version of Shirley’s cake—baked to share with your chosen family. Savor the layers of texture and depth [that were once] hidden from view and are now outloud, publicly and proudly acknowledged.

Best served with foods that come in 9×13 pans and foil tins. And for dessert, though you’re not big on literal rainbow representations, a mini rainbow-version of Shirley’s Cake. (We know you appreciate a bit of satire.)

The Reading & The Room

Open Mic Readers:

Rapid-Fire Q&A

We baked Shirley’s Cake from Potluck Desserts and served it in Justin Burke’s honor to all the authors because #YeahYouWrite that night, we celebrated our chosen family. We were so sorry Justin wasn’t there with us!

Each author received their own custom mini-cake. Though he’s not big on literal rainbow representations, we know he appreciates satire, so Justin’s was a rainbow. Kim received a fish to represent much of the food in Chantha’s memoir, Slow Noodles; Kevin’s cake was a golden Michelin star, and a rat got into Tim’s so we don’t know what it was supposed to look like.

Meet the Authors:

Thank you, Tim Tomlinson, for joining us on May 11.