- Main: January 2008 -

Yes, yes, also known as a "murse." I don't consider myself normal, and yet even I don't easily flaunt entrenched cultural norms. I've flirted with the idea before. This latest urge may push me over the edge. Not that's it's a far drop: in more pedestrian cities, "messenger bags" are accepted, and only a step from handbags and the dreaded "murse." Wait, stop. We need a motivation. Let's see what's in my pockets.

• Wallet
• Keys
• Phone

That is literally all that will fit before my pockets bulge unattractively, as though filled with severed fingers. I don't want that. You don't want that. The above are the essentials, right? What more could a semi-masculine guy desire? Ooh, ooh, me! Choose me!

• Camera
• MP3 player
• Sunglasses
• Notebook
• Pen
• Book
• Kitchen sink

Those are just the items I find myself missing every day, actually. I am in the process of finding something that'll work and not look totally ridiculous. It's a trick, but here's the secret: nylon. I am certain to get flak, even if I choose a bag with huge spikes and chains covering its surface. I can deal with that. I'll whip my camera out of my handbag and shout, "Yeah? I'll take a photo of you right now, motherfucker!"

That'll show 'em.

Jamie Boudreau, over at Spirits and Cocktails, recently posted his experiments with the Waldorf, specifically testing the new-to-market absinthe, Taboo. His review of Taboo was interesting, but I was more interested in a cocktail that uses a full ounce of absinthe!

For those who don't know, absinthe is quickly regaining use amongst mixologists, and is even legally back on the market in many countries, including the US. The only absinthe legend that remains true is that it's a quality and complex spirit. It's a bulldog, though -- easily the most strongly-flavored spirit on anyone's shelf -- and is usually only used in dashes. Even in dashes, it tends to dominate a cocktail over ounces of other spirits. To see an ounce listed in a cocktail is akin to seeing "pour yourself a shot of absinthe and cancel your appointments for the evening."

Much to my surprise, this cocktail manages the absinthe better than expected. I've never tried Taboo, so perhaps, with it, Jamie's proportions are balanced. To my taste, the absinthe is still too dominant. I decided to try different proportions, and was pleased with the result.

Waldorf

• 1½ oz Bourbon
• ½ oz Absinthe
• 1 oz Sweet Vermouth
• 3 dashes Angostura Bitters

Stir with ice, strain into cocktail glass.

This is a bit more balanced while maintaining a strong absinthe focus. Even so, with a less powerful bourbon than Stagg, which I used, I might consider tapering off even more on the absinthe. This might also be due to the strong, traditional absinthe I use, Jade 1901. A lighter absinthe might well work better with Jamie's proportions, I don't know. I do know this is the perfect cocktail for someone who loves absinthe.

Ted Haigh's novelty-sized book, Vintage Spirits & Forgotten Cocktails, is required reading for any mixologist. Although many of its cocktails aren't quite forgotten to the hobbyist, his writeups are informative and his tweaks to the recipes are balanced. I've mixed about half the cocktails, so far, and have found none so exciting as the Twentieth Century. This cocktail balances its far-disparate flavors almost by magic.

Twentieth Century

• 1½ oz Gin
• ¾ oz Lillet Blanc
• ¾ oz Creme de Cacao (white)
• ¾ oz Lemon Juice

Shake with ice, strain into cocktail glass, garnish with lemon twist.

This cocktail was invented and named back when the twentieth century was something to boast about. Actually, it was named after that marvel of engineering, the Twentieth Century Limited. Ted Haigh says this cocktail tastes like Art Deco. I agree. My favorite cocktails are time machines to the past. This cocktail is a steam-powered time machine with gentle curves.

The creme de cacoa is what interested me, upon first reading the recipe. I can count the number of good cocktails using cacoa on one hand. I can count the number of great cocktails using cacoa on one finger: this cocktail. The chocolate is just a subtle afterthought. It tastes like opening your grandmother's spice cupboard and getting a whiff of her baking chocolate amongst the other smells.

On that note, I mixed my latest Twentieth Century using Aviation gin. Aviation is a quality gin, but its flavor profile is difficult to mix with. Its coriander and cardamom notes are almost overpowering in many cocktails, including gin's signature Martini. Aviation works beautifully in this cocktail, however. My only regret is having to use Hiram Walker creme de cacoa. It's deuced hard to find good creme-style mixers, in the US. Please let me know if you have any tips.

I had to get a haircut, Saturday. My guy is awesome, technically. He's just a creep. I wouldn't want to get a haircut from him in a dark alley, y'know? I guess that's pretty unlikely. I couldn't even find him, for a while: he quit the usual salon, near my house, and nobody there could tell me where he went. My next two haircuts were far substandard, reinforcing my good opinion, creepiness aside. Then, one day, there he was again -- no explanation.

This was my first haircut with him since he returned. At first, things were normal. After the cut, he glanced surreptitiously around the room and smuggled non-salon-endorsed, unlabeled product out of his cabinet with which to style my hair. You see? Creepy. And then, once I'd admired his masterful-as-always job in the mirror, he said, "You can just settle up with me, actually." Hm? I was confused at first, and it must've shown, because he clarified under his breath: "The salon takes a ridiculous cut, man."

He wanted to cut out the middle man, eh? I was down, for sure. I'm a fan of anything out of the ordinary. There was a problem, though. I don't carry cash. "Hmm, okay. You can drop by sometime next week." That was even better. Now, I get to saunter into the salon sometime, slip him some Jeffersons, and saunter out. It'll be just like Ocean's Eleven, except in a salon rather than a casino. Maybe creepy stylists aren't so bad. You go in as a customer, you come out as Danny Ocean.

Another year, another Lunar Policy. Except this time it was two years. This one, however, is inspired not just by the desire to fiddle with a new web design, but by a seemingly-enduring new hobby of mine: mixology. The problem with past Lunar Policies was their subject matter: me, personally. I'd usually rather type that stuff up to amuse a friend in an email than post it depersonalized. For that reason, while there will be some, you won't see a lot of personal posts on this Lunar Policy. You'll see mixology.

What's mixology? Mixology is the art and history of the culinary cocktail. You see, cocktails used to be an artform on par with the culinary. These days, they're junkfood-inspired, one-dimensional, and sickly-sweet. They're candy for adults who never matured. A sophisticated adult prefers a cocktail with a subtle, often difficult, but always balanced flavor profile. These are what mixologists pursue through the rediscovery and application of past techniques. To do so, they must collect or concoct many old and uncommon spirits, liqueurs, and bitters. The hobby, then, is a pleasant mixture of research, collection, experimentation, and, of course, the enjoyment of a well-mixed cocktail. Cheers!