5 scary ideas from the freaky mind of Martha Stewart

My Fellow Inebriates,

Like anyone with a shred of common sense, I am freaking terrified of Martha Stewart. Just one glimpse of her faux-smile-concealing-untold-depths-of-cruelty and I get the shakes. So it’s no surprise that Martha knows how to make some scary cocktails, even if she doesn’t know she isn’t exactly pulling off that haircut any more (that’s for my Nana, who pretty much digs Martha except for the ‘do).

Was she hardened by the Inside, or is Martha Stewart just that naturally spine-tingling? Check out some of her creations…

Sinister Cider Cocktail

You need some weird stuff to make this martini, including sanding sugar, whatever that is (is it edible?) plus an apple, if you haven’t crossed over into the liquids-only territory we true alcoholics inhabit.

Lychee and Grape Eyeball Martinis

Martha tells you how to make frightening garnishes, but leaves the martini itself up to us. Let’s mix a triple.

Black Lagoon Cocktail

OMG, some people say this is the stuff that courses through Martha’s veins. But, hey, with four ounces of vodka in it, who’s quibbling?

Swamp Sips

It’s slimy! It’s murky! It’s rimmed with file powder, whatever the hell that is. And it has tequila in it. Gimme that swamp mix.

Pina Ghoulada

This rum-based coconut-cream cocktail is designed to appeal to blood-drinking monsters. Martha specifies “good-quality rum.”

Okay. Okay. I, er…OMG, I LOVE Martha Stewart!! I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT MARTHA STEWART!!! She totally rocks that hairstyle and, OMG, does she ever know how to mix a drink!

I would get hammered with Martha any day. Morning, midnight, whatever.

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Who says cotton candy’s just for kids?

My Fellow Inebriates,

You’d think there’d have been something interesting in the backpack my parents used throughout their day at the Pacific National Exhibition, but its contents were in fact so boring that no one bothered to clean it out. Still, it seemed sensible to check for some booze. Could they really have managed eleven hours of kiddy rides, farm animals, dog shows, and carny people without a flask? I didn’t think so.

But apparently they had drained the flask while walking the fairgrounds. Typical. I clambered right into the pack and found nothing but old popcorn and pink cotton candy. This latter item my dad immediately grabbed. He needed, I kid you not, something that wouldn’t require chewing for breakfast before a 10 a.m. root canal, and he thinks oatmeal is really gross. (I do too, but have you ever tried adding a tablespoon of Jack Daniel’s to your bowl? Try it.)

Most people, when they see cotton candy, do one or even several things:

  • They salivate, imagining a much yummier product than it actually turns out to be.
  • They wonder how many insects have gotten swirled up into the floss.
  • Their teeth hurt. They they wonder if they need a root canal.
  • They wonder which is worse: denying the kids a quintessential carnival treat, or letting them consume a bag of sugar, additives, and stray bugs.
  • They wonder how a bag of it can cost five freaking dollars.
  • They wish cotton candy contained at least a little alcohol.

Okay, maybe most PNE visitors don’t think that. For those who do, there’s a post-fair solution. Get the kiddies into bed and whip up a Cotton Candy Martini.

Now, you can’t get cotton candy just anywhere—at least not near LBHQ—so if you’re going to pull off this drink, you’ll have to visit a fair. Perhaps a relatively mainstream one like the PNE, or maybe a nasty little midway with multi-nippled circus geeks gobbling chicken heads and gropists throwing knives at each other. Either way, be sure to escape with some candy floss.

One other piece of foresight is necessary: have some sub-zero (sub-32 if you prefer) Smirnoff in your freezer. After a day of freaks with meter-long armpit hair offering you deep-fried Mars bars, you’ll want that vodka to be ready. And Smirnoff is only really tolerable when it’s near-freezing.

If, unlike my parents, you have any sort of respectable bar, you’ll have all the other items, or at least improvisational ones. Grenadine? Coca-Cola? Vanilla rim sugar? Sure…. Not at my house, perhaps, but I hope this stuff is at yours. Here’s the recipe:

  • 8 ounces of freezing Smirnoff vodka
  • 1 tablespoon of cola
  • 1 teaspoon of Grenadine
  • A chunk of cotton candy (about 2″ x 2″)
  • 2 small chunks of cotton candy for garnish
  • Vanilla cocktail candy rim sugar

Rim the glasses, load your martini shakers with ice, toss in the first four ingredients, and close tightly. Shake it like a carny wigging out on paint thinner. The cotton candy will disappear like a pickpocketed wallet. Strain the concoction into your sugared martini glasses and garnish with tufts of cotton candy. UNLESS your dad ate all of it for breakfast before having a root canal.

Strawberry Shortcake Day? Is this, like, a thing?

My Fellow Inebriates,

I had no idea June 14 was Strawberry Shortcake Day until I looked at the stats today and saw that 53 people had found me via that search term. (Of course they would have been annoyed to find a not-so-PG-rated FRÜLI review, but oh well.)

Thankfully Strawberry Shortcake isn’t especially popular at LBHQ. (Wish we could say the same for Wonder Pets.) Judging by the number of people who somehow find this (this!) site by questing after that sugary, insipid, fruit-obsessed character with the disproportionately large head, there are plenty of parents out there enduring a pre-K Strawberry Shortcake plague and evidently obliging their tots by typing it in as a search term.

She might actually be less tolerable than a Care Bear. One thing’s for sure: there are better uses for strawberries than ordinary shortcake. How about a Boozy Strawberry Shortcake?

Photo: Stephanie Diaz

Okay, so I’m not a big solids fan, but a dessert laced with cointreau is cause for exception. Let’s get started. Do you also have a four-year-old helping you? All right, then. You might want to take a belt of cointreau now rather than later.

Start with five to six strawberries. The ones they ship up to us from California are mutants the size of apples, so I’ll use five. You have to hull them and slice them, then soak them in 1 tbsp sugar and 2 tbsp cointreau.

This last bit must be a misprint—we’ll use 2 cups.

While these things are sitting, whip up some cream, adding some of the strawberry liquid. (Holy shit, that’s a lot of liquid if you follow my directions.)

Then you need to make the shortcake part, which involves a lot of measuring and kneading and baking, etc. Maybe we’ll leave this part out.

Depending on how drunk you are, assembly may or may not challenge you. There are three things to layer, two of which are supposed to be solid. If you’ve been liberal with the cointreau and jettisoned the shortcake step, you won’t be able to layer this while sober, never mind sky-high drunk like yours truly.

So just throw all those cointreau-soaked strawberries into the whipped cream and enjoy. Happy Strawberry Shortcake Day 🙂

And if you don’t have a four-year-old to impress, just cut to the chase with a Strawberry Shortcake Martini.