Savory Mint Lassi

D and I recently rewatched all seven seasons of The West Wing, start to finish. We loved it when it aired, we've loved it the other five or so times we've watched it, and I gotta say, the show stands the test of time. Late in season 7, it dawned on me that I'd spent days - nay, weeks - of my life watching that show. For sanity's sake, I decided not to calculate how much of my life I've wasted watching tv in general, and instead declared that as soon as West Wing was done, The Year of Reading would commence. A cleanse of sorts: less tv, more books. The Year started at the perfect time, since spring is in full bloom and our deck is a positively joyful place to relax after a long day or whittle away a weekend morning. So far, I've made my way through Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage (a wonderful book of short stories by Alice Munro, highly recommended); The Imperfectionists, about journalists in Rome, which I also loved; and The Lowland, Jumpa Lahiri's latest. I'm working my way through The Goldfinch now, and it feels like a winner. Next up: another Alice Munro book, The View from Castle Rock.

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We got smart this year and planted our mint in the front of the house, where we get loads of sunlight. The stuff is like a weed, and so far, I can't get enough. We did plant one pineapple mint plant out back, since it's a shade lover, and it's done great even with minimal sunlight; if you've got a shady outdoor area, I recommend it. The picture above is my first harvest of the stuff, and it's mildly minty and quite lovely.

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One of these days, our beautiful spring will turn to summer. It may not be hot yet, but DC summer sneaks up on you when you're least expecting it. This year, I'm coming into June prepared. I've got a summer's worth of cold, not-so-fussy drinks that can stand up to even the most energy-zapping heat. In case you're already weathering the heat and humidity, here's drink the first: a sort-of traditional savory lassi with mint.

Mango lassi was my first love, but in adulthood, I've come around to the virtues of the savory yogurt beverage. When we visited Istanbul back in 2007, Ayran was our daily companion. It's basically a thin, salty yogurt drink, and people swear by it as a hangover cure. A while ago, a friend got one of those juicer contraptions and made me a savory avocado-yogurt smoothie, which was a bit on the why-is-this-not-solid side, but still  tasty. But lassis are my favorite. They're not only savory, they're spiced -- that is, if you're bold enough to toss some mustard seeds into your drinking glass.

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(This seems like the right place to mention that the first couple times I made this, I dumped the toasted spices straight into the yogurt, as you see above. That's fine, but it results in a less-than-smooth lassi. I've taken to grinding them before adding, which makes for a smooth, clean drink.) If the spices-in-your-drink concept freaks you out, I'd gently nudge you to take a leap of faith. They're an understated addition to the glass. It's nothing like drinking curry. Really, it's a refreshing, non-sweet drink that takes the edge off of summer.

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Now I'm rambling; may be time for another glass.

Savory Mint Lassi Adapted from Melissa Clark Serves 2

12 ounces (1 1/2 cups) sheep's milk yogurt or plain tangy yogurt 1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds pinch of any or all of the following, as available: nigella seeds, black mustard seeds, fenugreek seeds (all optional) 1/4 cup mint leaves 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper 1/4-1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, to taste zest of 1 lime juice from 1 small lime wedge pinch brown sugar

In a small dry saute pan, heat the seeds (cumin and any others you're using) until they start to pop. Then grind them in a spice grinder, or crush in a mortar and pestle. You can skip the grinding step, but your seeds will stay a bit chunky in the lassi.

Combine all ingredients (start with just 1/4 teaspoon of salt) in a blender and blend until smooth. Alternatively, place all ingredients in a large jar and use an immersion blender to blend. Add a couple tablespoons of water if you're having trouble getting the mixture to emulsify.

Taste lassi, and add more salt and/or lime juice to taste. Serve in tall glasses over ice.

Ruby Campari Fizz

The other night, we met friends for dinner at a restaurant we last visited almost exactly one year ago: Range, in Friendship Heights. We went last February, for my birthday, with a few close friends. The restaurant was brand new and very on its game. We had a fantastic meal and even better drinks - some of the best I've had in the city.

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This time, our meal was less memorable: the servers were green and very conspicuous, awkwardly explaining and pointing (very closely!) to every element on the plate, interrupting our conversation at what seemed like all the worst moments, and insisting on giving us their spiels when we clearly already understood the concept of small plates. (Restaurants: for heaven's sake, stop with your spiels! Let us eat cake!)

But the drinks. The drinks! They were still as wonderful as I remembered from one year ago. I had an old-fashioned glass full of scotch, pumpkin shrub, and bitters with a hint of cayenne. And D, well she had the most intense drink of all: basically a big glass of whiskey, with a hint of maraschino and bitters. But mostly whiskey. The strongest, least smooth Old Fashioned you've ever had. And what was it called? The Mother-in-Law. Of course.

Before we go any further: I love my in-laws. Got that?

But that's a well-named cocktail. It makes you laugh when you drink it. It sticks with you long after it's gone. And if you liked it, you'll know exactly how to order it next time.

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Which is why I felt compelled to rename drink I served for brunch this weekend. The original version is called the 522 North Pinckney, which is one of those names that you only understand if you recognize that it's an address, and then go and know the person whose address it used to be.

Turns out, 522 North Pinckney is the former address of Brian Bartels, who co-owns Fedora, a Greenwich Village Bar, with Gabriel Stulman, who used to run the front of the house at the wonderful Little Owl, in the West Village, and also owns another Village spot called Joseph Leonard, where apparently Brian Bartels mixologizes. (Word? Now it is!) And that's where 522 North Pinckney comes from.

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But I've never been to Joseph Leonard. I've never been to Fedora. I've never met either of these (surely fedora-ed) fellows. And I guess I figure that unless drinks have names so common and ingrained that calling them something else misleads people (i.e. bloody mary; mimosa), a cocktail's name should evoke something you understand. Is Ruby Campari Fizz the most brilliant name ever? Ha. But you hear it, and you know what you're about to get.

Behold, the Ruby Campari Fizz:

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Ruby because your glass is about one-third red grapefruit juice. Campari because it's a prevalent flavor, and the other special liqueur in there - St. Germain - is too unwieldy a name to slap on a cocktail. Fizz is Prosecco or Cava, because you don't need to splurge on Champagne to have a happy new year.

It's a mighty strong way to ring in 2014, whether in the evening, served in flutes, or over New Year's brunch, in a coupe or the like. It's pretty and sparkly and cheery. I hope this coming year is all of those things and more, for all of us.

Happy New Year, friends. Cheers!

Ruby Campari FizzAdapted from the bar Joseph Leonard, via Bon Appetit

Makes 8 servings

3 red grapefruits 1/2 cup St. Germain (elderflower liqueur) 1/4 cup Campari 1 750-ml. bottle Prosecco or Cava (go with something inexpensive)

Set a strainer over a large bowl.

Halve grapefruits. Squeeze 5 grapefruit halves into the bowl. If you want your cocktail pulpy, transfer some of the suspended pulp from the strainer into the bowl. Press on remaining pulp and seeds to release any juice, then discard the pulp and seeds. You should wind up with approximately 2 cups of liquid.

Cut the remaining grapefruit half into two. Then slice one of the grapefruit quarters into thin slices along its cross-section. You'll use these slices to garnish the glasses.

Add St. Germain and Campari to the grapefruit juice. Transfer to a pitcher, and refrigerate until ready to serve (at least 1 hour if possible).

To serve, divide grapefruit mixture equally among 8 glasses. (If serving fewer than 8 people, pour about 1/3 cup of the mixture into each glass.) Top with Prosecco or Cava. Set one cross-section slice of grapefruit on each glass, and serve.

(Keep grapefruit mixture chilled before serving, or make up to one day in advance and chill thoroughly.)

Cucumber-Gin Slushies

Here's one good thing about living in DC: this time of year. This time of year is usually a month or so long, but 2013 has decided to be obnoxious and stubborn about sending winter on its way, and so we find ourselves in late May -- it's almost June -- occasionally wearing scarves in office buildings that clearly didn't get the memo and insist on blasting the A/C to the max. But at last, the cold has passed. It's now that special time in DC where there's warm sun and cool breeze at the same time. Not one to let this fleeting time pass me by, I've been taking some long walks. A couple weeks ago,D and I strolled all the way from our corner of northwest all the way to Eastern Market for dinner. No better way to prep for a big night of pasta-eating and wine-drinking.

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DC also has some affordable (coughnot) housing with outdoor seating, and we're lucky enough to have a deck. Now is the season to brush off that patio furniture and settle in with a drink outside. Fortunately, the long weekend provided ample opportunity to bask in the sun and pretend to be sophisticated with some shmancy cocktails.

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But you know what DC does not have, like at all? Affordable alcohol. My friend Josh (he of Mutabbaq-making fame) alerted me to the fact that just a hop-skip north, in MoCo, my beloved Bulleit and Hendricks, and plenty of other stuff could be procured at a fraction of the price the robbers in DC charge. So this weekend, I put on my driving shoes and headed to liquor mecca. (Do you think prim and proper Montgomery County would like this nickname? Methinks not.) And there, I purchased what can only be called a full bar worth of product: two kinds of gin, a Haitian rum that Josh recommended, two vermouths, a vodka, and I probably could keep going but I will stop, to avoid total embarrassment. But people, it was like Christmas, it really was. By the time I'd left the store, I'd already decided which bottle to open and what to use it for. It was the right call, and this weekend, it can be yours.

1-gin slushie

For what do beautiful, breezy, sunny, weekend days call for if not a clean, crisp, alcoholic, adult Slurpee? That's essentially what this is. It comes by way of Heidi's wonderful book, Super Natural Every Day, but with some detours and adjustments, as Heidi apparently wasn't as desperate for a non-mocktail as I was.

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Heidi's version is a cucumber cooler. Naturally, I added gin. I also upped the lime, subbed sugar for some of the honey (cheaper) and left it in the freezer because I never really liked it when my Slurpee melted. Some things never change.

Cucumber-Gin SlushiesAdapted from Heidi's recipe in Super Natural Every Day

Makes 1 big pitcher, which serves about 4 with a few dribbles left; might want to make a double batch

Notes: Heidi likes lemon cucumbers, which I've never encountered. She says 1 is about 10 oz. of cucumber, which is how much you need for this recipe. I used English cucumber, which she also blesses - but mine were the most monstrous of cucs; I needed only 2/3 of a cucumber for the recipe. If you can't weigh your ingredients, don't worry; this cocktail is supposed to relax you, not stress you out. Aim for a normal-sized English cucumber or 3-4 baby cucumbers.

10 oz. cucumber, partially peeled; see headnote 1/2 c. cold water 3 c. ice cubes (about 1½ trays) 1/3 c. mild honey or sugar Juice of 1 lime, more to taste 5 oz. gin (no need for the fancy stuff here) 1/4 tsp. fine-grain sea salt 5 leaves fresh mint, optional

Combine all the ingredients in a blender. Pulse until smooth, frosty, and free of ice chunks and honey globs. Pour into a pitcher, and store in the fridge or freezer for up to 1 hour before serving.

The Tom and Jerry

In the words of Amanda Hesser, this drink is not for delicate flowers. It's a bit like eggnog, but my god, it's so much better. It's foamy and fluffy, hot and sweet and plenty alcoholic. If you're one of those types who craves a hot toddy from time to time but laments the fact that they can be so watered down and boring, well then: I have just the drink for you.

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Friends, meet Tom and Jerry.

This drink requires some effort to put together, but isn't that what the weekend is for? Futzing around in the kitchen to make something awesome? Methinks yes.

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The Tom and Jerry is made by whipping egg whites and egg yolks separately, mixing them back together, adding plenty of rum and brandy, and pouring hot milk overtop. If you're making drinks for a crowd, just pull out your electric mixer and have it do the hard work for you. You can certainly make this for one - as I did when I photographed it - but it's tough to whip just one egg white with an appliance. I whipped both white and yolk by hand, because I am awesome. In unrelated news, my arm would like to take a nap.

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Still: worth the effort. And I say, why wait for New Years to serve something like this? It's March. It's the weekend. I think that's reason enough.

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The Tom and Jerryadapted from Amanda Hesser's The New York Times Essential Cookbook Makes 1 serving

1 large egg, separated 1 teaspoon sugar (more to taste) 2 oz. rum (Amanda recommends white; I only had dark) 1 oz. brandy 3/4 cup hot milk (preferably whole milk, preferably foamed) Freshly grated nutmeg

In a clean bowl, beat the egg white to stiff peaks. In a separate, medium bowl, beat the yolk until it is thick and pale yellow.

Pour the white into the bowl with the yolk in two stages, stirring gently to combine them without deflating the mixture. Then pour the mixture into a Collins glass or other tall glass. Add sugar, rum, and brandy and stir gently to combine. Then gradually pour the hot milk into one side of the glass, stirring gently as you pour. If you foamed the milk, spoon the foam overtop. Finish with fresh nutmeg. Serve immediately.