liqueur

ASTROLIQUOR for August 3-9—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

You’re gripped by a sudden ambition to improve your mind, Aries, but you don’t have the time to take classes or study. With family/friends quick to compete for your spare time, self-improvement seems like a luxury. Is it worth it? Write out one of those pro-vs-con lists to get clarity. Maybe you don’t need to add any new activities to improve yourself. Maybe you just need to subtract half a bottle of Skyy from your daily intake.

Taurus, there’s a birthday party in the stars this week—be careful not to forget about it or the celebrant may not forgive you. Do you have an electronic calendar or diary to remind you? Or do you just need to dial back the vanilla vodka and banana liqueur? Those products aren’t so conducive to good recall.

Air things out at home this week, Gemini, and not in a figurative way. Your house smells like someone painted the walls with a bucket of Malibu-Frangelico-Bailey’s vomit. It’s oppressive—how can you think in such a fetid atmosphere? Go out if you need to, regardless of the weather. Get drunk enough that you don’t notice the funk when you get home.

Life feels smooth this week, Cancer. You’re making good professional contacts as well as potential romantic ones, which makes you feel happy and expansive—and in turn leads to delusional spending. Now’s the time to stock that bar with less mainstream items such as blackberry schnapps and white creme de cacao. Quick! Get to the liquor store before your inner accountant wakes up.

Leo, the stars feature friendship this week, so make some playdates for yourself. A Gemini in particular will grab your attention. Your intuition about this person is spot-on. Give it time (maybe even until 2013 if such a year comes to be) and the relationship will deepen. With life so satisfying, your drinking sinks to a dull roar. I see you sipping port or blackberry brandy and not having to throw it up.

Just when the week seems to be swimming along uneventfully, Virgo, you face a bar fight. Oh no! But maybe it’s not all bad…if you get roughed up sufficiently you may be able to sue for damages. This will pay for some home-improvement expenses in September or October—and/or a new supply of vodka and Blue Curacao.

Libra, the alarm clock is starting to feel like an enemy. Late nights, especially when fueled by raspberry Stoli and triple sec, are taking their toll. Did you know that passed-out sleep doesn’t give you the proper rest that sober sleep does? OMG! It’s true. Try drinking earlier in the day so you can sober up by bedtime and get some good Zzzzzs.

You’ve been feeling hampered lately, Scorpio, but this week you finally get to break free. Get outside, take a walk, call a friend. Get rid of useless possessions that weigh you down. Drop some work- or family-related responsibilities…whatever it takes to break the “trapped” cycle. And if those ideas don’t work, get into the vodka.

Sagittarius, you may be the consummate multi-tasker, but not this week. The fewer projects you take on, the better you’ll manage them. Your brain cells have taken an Absolut beating lately. Scratch driving from your list of activities—even on sober mornings you’ll have trouble focusing, never mind texting. If you can survive until Friday, you’ll meet someone who thinks you’re cute.

Do you have an old friend you’ve been forgetting, Capricorn? Make an effort to send a note or a small gift—or just visit with a gin bottle. The stars suggest (ominously) that you don’t have much time to make this gesture…your friend may move away, write you off, or kick the bucket. If you put it off, you may end up consoling yourself at the bar (Saturday’s the best day because someone there will be into you).

Aquarius, you still need to keep the purse strings drawn fairly tight. You may have renewed your mortgage unfavorably, or otherwise committed monthly installments for some expense or other. This doesn’t bode well for the awesome bar you covet. Sadly, this isn’t the week to invest in exotica such as kiwi liqueur to fill out your collection. The stars recommend cheap swill, at least until next month.

Pisces, this is a week for reinvention, which will make you insufferable for friends and family. You reassess your hobbies, your travel ambitions, and your liquor cabinet. Not content to down a beer with old friends, you find yourself at unfamiliar bars, ordering rounds of Jagermeister and dancing while people fling coins at you. Are you being a douche? Only your bartender knows for sure.

ASTROLIQUOR for May 4-10—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

Aries, deep down you really want to fall in love. Luckily for you the stars are lining up to grant your wish. Sometime between now and June you’ll fall head over heels in a sickening, poetry-writing, gooey romance. Of course ouzo and vodka will be involved, but it’s still the real deal! So get ready to tell your spouse about it and lawyer up.

Taurus, although you’re good at putting friends and family to work, you have trouble accepting help from strangers. This week you have to go outside your comfort zone, however, and recruit a colleague for an important task. Although this person has historically been a dick to you, he/she can be loosened up with some Red Bull and rum. Don’t think of it as taking advantage—you’re building karma for your coworker, so pass the flask.

Those psychiatric sessions are paying off, Gemini, balancing your emotions and turning you into something of a charmer. On your habitual drunken early-bird visit to a garage sale you discover that both an Aries and an Aquarius are taken with you. What a lovely dilemma! Make sure you follow your heart—when your head is full of cognac and vodka it’s too easy to pick randomly.

You’re in good spirits this week, Cancer, having solved a few nagging mental problems and discovered unknown inner strengths. You’re learning not to compare yourself to others, and to appreciate Canadian Club even when your neighbor is reeling around his yard with Crown Royal. You’ll have a nice flirtation with someone this week, but I’d leave that neighbor alone.

Leo, look carefully at your text messages and emails this week. Every communique, no matter how terse, contains subtext. Understandably subtext gets lost when you’ve spent the day sipping from a jug of Bailey’s, Goldschlager, and creme de menthe, but try to pay attention. In particular a colleague may be seeking your approval. It’s just good politics to play along.

You have a thing for an Aries, Virgo, even though you don’t actually like this person. This bad situation gains unfortunate traction from an ever-present travel mug of amaretto-and-Bailey’s coffee that you replenish furtively from a makeshift bar under your cubicle desk. Perhaps you should get some air before you decide to visit the supply closet with your Aries friend. No car keys for you!

Libra, you’re contemplating a self-improvement program featuring long walks. Not only will this make your body fit; your brain will benefit as well. Pickled as you’ve been all winter, you should gain some clarity pretty fast! It’s a new dawn for you, being sober throughout the day, but don’t forget to reward yourself later with some Irish cream and butterscotch schnapps.

Fear and hope take turns swooping in on you this week, Scorpio. You don’t have the funds to bail you out if your current business plan goes pear-shaped, but what the hell—you’re used to living this way. Not too many people have the stomach to hang with you, and that’s not a bad thing. Gambling looks dangerous this week, so stay inside and mix something up:

  • 2 oz bourbon
  • 2 oz vodka
  • 2 oz Tia Maria
  • 2 oz grapefruit juice

Sagittarius, the world looks very pretty this week. Your positive energy is at a peak, so how about a joyful blender drink?

  • 3 oz peach schnapps
  • 3 oz raspberry liqueur
  • 3 oz Frangelico
  • 3 oz cream
  • 1.5 cups vanilla ice cream
  • 4 oz raspberry jam

Puree that business up and let it cool your brain. You may need a walk afterwards, but the world will still be pretty—just spinning too.

Impetuous you’re not, Capricorn—at least not usually, but there are some weird stars in your chart causing you to be extra-gregarious and generally unprofessional. For instance, any cube farm worker knows vodka makes the best odor-free flask drink. So why is yours full of brandy and creme de menthe? Nobody’s gonna believe you just brushed your teeth. Watch out or you’ll need a box for all your stuff!

Aquarius, you normally enjoy risk and danger but sadly you’re having trouble finding it. Superfluous energy torments you, causing you to hit on drunken Geminis at early-morning garage sales and generally bother people of all star signs. Meanwhile, a Sagittarius is bothering you, out-talking you even and making you uncomfortable. Chill out and avoid a fight. Cherry brandy for you.

Pisces, people think you’re pretty down-to-earth. But this week you go nuts and freak out at your family. It might be an intervention or some such gathering where emotions tend to run high. Then again, it might be a wedding or a funeral. Whatever the event is, expect to be escorted away from it quite forcefully, perhaps while vomiting vodka.

Liqueur-filled Easter eggs—beyond my talents and then some

My Fellow Inebriates,

The success of any project depends on three factors:

At first, making our own liqueur-filled Easter eggs seemed like an ingenious idea. We have:

Time—What the hell else does my mum have to do? (Ouch! Has someone ever taken their fingernail and flicked you on the ass? Ouch!) To rephrase: she’s home all day with a four-year-old who needs to be constantly engaged and who would find DIY Easter eggs delightful (if you ignore the booze component). Check.

Resources—My mum is a fiend for and hoarder of chocolate. If she hasn’t already reallocated valuable grocery/booze funds for chocolate, she can be persuaded to invest in some. Besides, her ass requests it. (Owie!) As for the necessary booze, I can get my dad to buy it; he loves going to the liquor store. Check.

Talent—Supposedly, when it comes to making desserts, my mother knows her shit. And she’s had a lot of practice managing four-year-olds in the kitchen. Check.

So I was optimistic, my fellow inebriates. By Easter we could have liqueur-filled eggs!

But my parents were hesitant. They questioned how liquor really fit into our Sunday morning Easter egg hunt with the kids. They said they didn’t really care for liqueur chocolates. They said I was being a nuisance.

And suddenly my project triangle looked like this:

I felt my own optimism dwindling. But oh well. Nothing for it but to dive in. How the hell do you make liqueur-filled chocolates anyway?

According to the most comprehensive instructions I could find, you need a lot of equipment, including:

  • a scale that can measure to the gram
  • an instant-read digital thermometer
  • two 9”x13” baking dishes
  • a metal mesh strainer/sifter
  • a silicone pastry brush
  • four to eight boxes of cornstarch (!!)

OMG! Now our triangle looks like this:

Yes, that’s my mum’s finger.

I’ve always wondered how they get fillings into chocolates. Cadbury has been milking the Caramilk Secret campaign for years. Do they:

  • freeze the filling and then coat it with chocolate?
  • create the chocolate molds in two halves, pour the filling in, and seal the halves together?
  • somehow create hollow chocolate shapes and then inject the filling in?

None of the above, although Cadbury engineers considered the first option, only to dismiss it because it was too expensive and time-consuming. Instead (are you ready for this?) they pour the chocolate into a mold, then add squares of solid caramel, to which they then add a natural enzyme that converts it to a liquid, by which time they’ve already sealed it in with a final layer of chocolate.

Wow! I’d find that really interesting if the filling were booze instead of caramel. But it’s irrelevant to the manufacture of liqueur-filled chocolates.

Back to the ingredient list. You may be wondering what the hell all that cornstarch is for. According to  the instructions, you have to dry it out thoroughly, then make a big bed of it, then use objects to make indentations in it—in our case, Easter-egg shaped cavities. Which means we also need to buy an Easter egg shape.

This is fast becoming a drain on our alcohol fund.

Okay, so you make your shapes in the cornstarch. (Note: no open flame near the cornstarch. It can make fireballs.)

That cornstarch is going to go everywhere. If I get near it I’ll look like Cocaine Bear. Just a little less fierce.

But the next part is even scarier for a small, flammable bear. Next we need to use a saucepan to cook sugar to a specific temperature (holy shit, the tolerance is, like, 3 degrees; we are totally gonna mess this up). Then, once the mercury’s hit that ultra-specific line on the candy thermometer my mum says she bloody well isn’t going to buy, THEN, hallelujah, we can add the liquor. Then we have to stir it at the perfect pace or risk inducing crystallization. OMG! Did I mention we’re going to mess this up?

At this point we should be beside ourselves with anxiety. We’ll need to fend off an eager four-year-old from the stovetop part of it and, at that critical period of temperature measurement, find some other source of entertainment for her, all the while covered with white powder (at which point a cop will probably knock on the door to bestow parking tickets on us, misjudge the situation and bust us for possession). BUT, assuming we make it to this point, now we have to fill the molds with our mixture.

THEN we have to sift cornstarch over the candies (or just shake it off our bodies onto them). And THEN we have to wait 3-5 hours. OMFG!! Did I mention there’s a four-year-old in the kitchen? What do you think she’ll say when we tell her we have to wait 3-5 hours? How many freaking times can she watch Tangled?

Okay, so assuming we survive all that, THEN we have to flip this mess over and leave it overnight.

The next morning we can pull the candies out of the cornstarch and coat them with chocolate.

Photo: Steven Joyce

Up against this recipe, our small resources, limited time, and minuscule talent come up short. My mum says I’m on my own—there’s no goddamn way she’s going to make liqueur-filled Easter eggs. Ever. She says I can damn well get one of those big Nestle eggs, jettison the Smarties from inside and fill the whole thing up with Laguvulin, and good luck.

Sounds like a plan.