It's Friday and I promised you a cocktail. But in rebooting my computer, my last two weeks' worth of photos somehow disappeared, so I can't tell you about the wildberry gin I have been infusing. Long exhale. Mopping of brow. It's too hot to despair. The perfect solution? Exhorting you to make one of my all-time favorite summer cocktails: the Lovage You Long Time. You can do it! You can do it!

Don't got no lovage? Try infusing the simple syrup with a combination of celery leaves and stalks instead. The rest is just fresh lemon juice, Hendrick's gin, celery bitters and plenty of ice. A couple of these and the living will, indeed, be easy.
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I was glad to see the back of 2012. I know I was not the only one. It was a year in which I saw friends struggle with unemployment, with drug problems, with depression. My darling husband, locked in battle with chronic, acute stomach pain, finally saw a glimmer of hope at the prospect of undergoing an experimental fecal transfer (yes, just what it sounds like), only to find out that the FDA has just banned them until stool—newly defined as a drug—has been properly tested. WTF.

I keep reminding myself that we are not defined by what happens to us but by how we respond to what happens to us. I am focusing on humility, grace, gratitude and joy. I am remembering that slow and steady wins the race. I am confident that this, too, shall pass. Meanwhile, I am taking the bitter with the sweet. Including in my cocktails.
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The Rickey, a mixed drink featuring lime and not much sugar, was originally created in the 1880s with bourbon by Washington, D.C. bartender George A. Williamson, purportedly in collaboration with Democratic lobbyist Colonel Joe Rickey. Thus the name. Years later, mixed with gin, it became something of a worldwide sensation. Change that to rum, add a little mint and it’s basically a mojito. I first came to know it in the delis and little corner “spas” that dotted the East Village in the 1980s. (Remember those days? I was making $250 cash a week and living in a 3-bedroom-2-bath apartment on Avenue A that cost $1,550 a month. Total. And I had really big hair.) There, it was a huge glass stuffed with halved, squeezed-out limes, plenty of sugar and lots of ice, then topped off with seltzer. Not necessarily the soul of sophistication, but damned refreshing on a sweltering New York City afternoon. I've brought it to a slightly different place with the addition of a ginger-infused honey syrup (you can sub simple syrup, or even superfine sugar) and a splash of bitters, but it remains a thirst-quencher of the first order. Spike it with gin, and it's the perfect summer cocktail.
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Salt is in the zeitgeist. Although the stuff has been around literally forever (read this book on its fascinating history), it's being particularly fetishized at this moment. No fewer than 3 people gave me salt this holiday season, bringing my collection to 18 different types! A couple of the gifts came from the same store: The Meadow, on Hudson Street in New York City. Jennifer Turner Bitterman and her husband "selmelier" Mark Bitterman founded this boutique in Portland in 2006. It specializes in salt, chocolate, flowers and wine (though on a recent visit I noticed only bitters; more on those later). The assortment of salts is truly mind-blowing. From Bengal Blue to Smoked Red Alder, there are more than 100 types, sourced from all over the world. The most instantly striking thing in the store are blocks and slabs of pink Himalayan salt, big translucent pieces for cooking and serving food. You can arrange sashimi on a chilled brick of the stuff and watch the edges of the fish turn pale and firm as it actually cures right there. Or heat a block on the stove or the barbeque and grill thin slices of flank steak for a unique and delicately salty flavor. I can't wait to try this!

Meet lovage (Levisticum officinale), known to the French as céleri bâtarde, or fake celery. It really is like celery but without the stalk; its lush leaves have a very similar green, herby, slightly salty flavor. Since it's considered a "magic bullet" companion plant—one that improves the health of all surrounding plants—it always has pride of place in our vegetable garden. It's second only to capers in its concentration of quercetin, a plant-derived flavonoid that has anti-infammatory and antioxidant properties. The Greeks and Romans chewed lovage seeds to aid digestion and, perhaps because of its name, lovage has been used in tonics and potions to conjure up true love. An infusion of the seeds is said to to erase freckles, although it may also cause photosensitivity. The plant grows easily and quickly; pinch it back to make it bushier and to deter the flower spikes. Once they start showing, the flavor becomes quite strong. Use the leaves to make a compound butter, in soups and stocks or, our favorite way, in a simple syrup. This is ideal for cocktails or simply mixed in with sparkling water for a refreshing summer drink.
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Do you think it's borderline Stepford to offer a house cocktail when you’re entertaining? It's actually easier on the host because you can make it ahead of time and then you're not playing bartender. Plus it gives your guests an option beyond their usual white wine or beer or whatever. I invented this one for our July 4th party and it was quite a hit. (Especially with me. After downing several, I did my Edie Beale imitation, singing God Bless America a la Ethel Merman and waving a lit sparkler around the yard!) It's a bit like a jacked-up Pimm's cup. I dubbed this drink “Smashing Summer” because of the muddling required and for obvious reasons beyond that, and I think the ingredients add up to a coolly refreshing high-summer cocktail.
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