The Cradle Will Rock

Tonight was one of the best rock and roll experiences of my life. I didn't meet Keef backstage or at the bottom of a coconut tree, nor did I eat sushi off naked women in Tokyo with the boys in Metallica. I didn't even run into Patterson Hood in the men's at the recent Seattle Drive By Truckers show.

Tonight I rocked out with my five year old daughter and got real feedback on who rocks and who is too slow, too rocky (whatever that means), and totally rockin'. Since most of her musical time has been in the car with some dubious adult musical supervision with playlists ranging from Shakira to Pink to Anastacia I've been concerned how things might turn out for the little.

Out of sheer desperation and hope, I'd bought her a seriously bitchin', pink, Hello Kitty Strat for her birthday and even tried to teach her a few chords but a full scale electric is probably not the wisest form of musical encouragement for the under five set.

So when she suggested we put on some of Daddy's music and dance, I was filled with a weird combination of excitement and fear. Would she love the Stones and hate the Old 97s? Who knew. I've been sadly remiss in playing much music around her for the last few years as I felt talking and relating was likely a more worthy exercise than brainwashing my musical taste into the poor kid.

My technique was simple, give her a several ounces of benadryl, a few dozen sugar cubes, a small trampoline and crank up the Bose system. OK fine, there was no benadryl, just a half dozen Paul Neuman O's. Turns out the best trampoline bouncing tunes for my child were the first two Van Halen records, some random Zeppelin tracks (I tried like thirty...Heartbreaker was big), a bunch of Old 97's cow-punk rockers, the new Hold Steady record, and a couple of tracks from Thin Lizzy's greatest hits. Come on who can resist Cowboy Song? Sadly the Stones were a bust but I didn't fully get them until I was 20 so what can you do?

When I was a kid, my folks played incessant Stones, Beatles, CSN, Simon & Garfunkel, and various and sundry folky things and it made a lasting impact on me. My dad's fleeting interest in Ray Coniff never touched me. The moral of the story is that the lasting bands are just that...passing pop music will become a fleeting memory but the visceral reaction of a great song will affect your kids the same way it did for you. Just ask Elise about Runnin with The Devil.

Spirits in the Night

I've always felt there was a seasonality to enjoying wine and spirits. A Tavel or Navarra rose wouldn't make too much sense in the dead of winter but when it's balmy and humid in the dog days of summer, it's the perfect pairing with grilled fish and vegetables. Same goes for damp Autumns and Burgundy or winter chills and Bordeaux inspired blends.

In Seattle, the days get short and damp in early November and almost without warning you leave your home in darkness and return home in the same bizarre vortex of despair. To me this is where the seasonality of gin martinis and the joys of all things tonic-induced come to a close. This is where our winter friends, bourbon, scotch and rye move in. Although they may appear brooding...truly they are gentle, unassuming and frankly relatively polite.

Think about the names of our fall friends here and the emotions they evoke. The Manhattan, Rusty Nail, Old Fashioned. What's not to like? OK you don't want to step on a rusty nail but hell in a glass it must be good.

I was recently in New Orleans with some friends and tried the Sazerac in its native environment...repeatedly. This cocktail dates back to the 1800s and was reportedly invented by Antoine Amadie Peychaud, a Creole apothecary who sold a mix of aromatic bitters to relieve ails of his clients. He ultimately mixed his bitters with French brandy, a bit of water and sugar and the drink was born.

Rye, Absinthe and bitters can be pretty tasty as it turns out. I sampled dozens looking for the perfect expression but there really wasn't one. The absinthe or herbsaint is a defining factor as is the rye. Many of my colleagues thought the drink was cough-syrup inflected shite. Fortunately I love them and won't pass judgement: shitheads.

One final thought as I close out. For all the bartenders and brown booze advocates. A public service announcement: brown alcohol should never be shaken, shook or tormented. It gets bruised, hurt feelings and shows its disdain in your glass. If you order a Manhattan, Sazerac, or Old Fashioned and your barkeep is violently shaking your drink like Mr. Scientology in the movie Cocktail either politely correct him/her or get violent if necessary. Remember you ordered the drink, he doesn't know any better.

P.S. I love the transition to fall drinks though rumor has it excessive snoring and/or sleep apnea may attach themselves to these lovely libations and cause certain marital distress.