Recipe for a Beiruti Julep

Last night I threw a housewarming party, which ended up being a total blast. Part of the success was due, in part, to a cocktail I created for the night. The drink, which I’ve dubbed a Beiruti Julep, is a play on a Mint Julep and Middle Eastern lemonade. The drink was such a hit with the non-Bourbon drinkers at the party that I figured it might be fun to share the recipe. The recipe works even if you substitute Bourbon with a dark, molasses-heavy Rum. 

Things you need:

3 Large Lemons
2 Large Limes
1.5 Cups of Dark Brown Sugar
4.5 Cups of Ice Cold Water
1.5. Tsp of Ground Clove
1 Tsp of Black Cardamom (preferably in pods)
2 dashes of orange-blossom water (you can usually get this at a Middle Eastern grocery store for less than four dollars) 
1 dash Angostura Bitters
1 huge bunch Mint
1 bottle of good quality bourbon (depending on your price point, Evan Williams is a solid mixing bourbon under 15 dollars). 
1 Pitcher
Crushed Ice

Instructions:

Juice lemons + limes into the pitcher. Remove seeds.

Using a pestle + mortar, ground up the cardamom and clove and add them to the citrus juice in the pitcher. Add the brown sugar. Stir slowly so that a thick syrup forms.  I really love the taste of cardamom, so I definitely would add more once the initial syrup is formed. But that’s your call.

Add 1/2 bottle of the bourbon.

Slowly add in the ice water. Start with 3 cups. Stir and taste. Depending on how stiff you want the drink to be, you may not add the last 1.5 cups of water.

Add one dash of the orange blossom water and bitters. The orange water is strong, so stir and taste before adding more. 

Stir the drink and let it sit in the fridge for a few hours. Serve over crushed ice and with a giant sprig of mint.

Enjoy!

triciawang:fyi - I love Christina Dennaoui’s blog Modern and Im/Material Things. I don’t know her personally, yet , but it feels like we would be good friends if we ever met. She’s super geeky intellectual, crisp, no bull-shit, & silly.

Tricia has me all figured out. It’s nice to know that my personality actually comes across in my writing. And based on the breadth of her blogs (including her awesome blogs about digital culture and urbanism) and her penchant for photos of Pho (see what I did there?), I also think we’d be friends. So go read Tricia’s blogs (all of them)!

Are you wealthy enough to afford cuts of [insert farm name] [insert special breed of pig] slow poached in [insert another farm name’s] [insert special type of milk] served with greens from [insert urban rooftop garden]? Then you are eating like a White Person. Do you feel really good about yourself while you’re doing it? Then you are a White Person.

Did this seriously get published in GOOD.is without someone telling the author that the “white people” phenomenon she is referring to is a product of class status, globalization and  cross-cultural growth? I understand being provocative can help drive interest in an article, but how can you talk about class without actually using the word class? The author states that “white people food” has a lot to do with money but then continues to subsume the issue of economic capital under the category of race. Each of the author’s arguments about well-reviewed restaurants in New York and their relative proximity to or location in Manhattan has everything to do with money not race. Manhattan is an island of the rich and poor; the middle class is mostly priced outside of it. Call it “Rich People Food” if you must because that’s at least a little more accurate. 

To be clear, there is indeed a relationship between race and class status. That relationship is not really explored in the article. People with enough money to be foodies are “whites.”  What about the issues of cultural appropriation and fetishism inherent in the author’s definition of “white people food”?  The whole article reads  like something between white guilt and post-colonial studies for dummies. 

Food has become the premier marker of social distinctions, that is to say—social class. It used to be clothing and fashion, but no longer, now that ‘luxury’ has become affordable and available to all.

Via “Let Them Eat Cheetos”

Via The Society Pages

Texans were polled about what they thought people from specific regions of the world ate on a daily basis based on their experiences with the cuisine. The left side of the graph represents the stereotype, the right represents what people from that group actually eat on a daily basis and the middle is the overlap between the reality and the stereotype. 

I’m Lebanese and I eat everything on the Venn diagram save for the Hookah. No one “eats” a hookah because I’m pretty sure the glass would scratch up your throat. Also, no Lebanese person calls it a hookah. The water tobacco pipe has three names in the region:

Turks and Westerners call it a hookah

Egyptians call it a Shisha

Lebanese (Libnanis) call it a nargyle (pronounce nar-gee-lah).

From “Texan Concepts of Ethnic Food”

Today is day one of my month long (modified) raw food detox. Last October, I completed a raw food detox because I felt like I needed to hit a reset button, mentally and physically. I ended up feeling great and I lost 20lbs. The success of the last detox has inspired another one. 

The great thing about this detox is that it allows for things dark chocolate, red wine and some cooked meat. The governing principle of the detox is to eat only foods in their natural state and to combine foods into groupings that are the most conducive to digestion. No sodas or chemical laden products. If you suffer from IBS, this is a great diet for you.

If you’re interested in what a daily meal plan looks like, here’s mine:

Breakfast: 8oz Pomegranate Juice or 8oz of fresh fruit, black coffee. 20 minutes later, whole grain toast with unsalted butter, avocado slices and cinnamon. 

Lunch: Salad with red quinoa, corn and red peppers. Citrus-sumac dressing.

Snack: Lara Bar

Dinner: Whole grain pasta with veggie medley. Grilled white meat or fish.

Via the LA Times

9. Resto: As well as resy and a good many other inane abbreviations. Resto, which is presumably for people who can’t be bothered to write out ‘restaurant,’ sounds like a cross between a rest home and a pasta shape that someone thankfully reconsidered. At least e.v.o.o., though stupid, still makes sense, as it is an abbreviation of a long string of words and it is useful to distinguish between a mis cup of this expensive stuff and a cup of more pedestrian olive oil in a restaurant kitchen, when you’re scribbling stuff out with a Sharpie while taking reservations.”

Do people actually use the word “resto”? I could see the word in the context of a sentence like the following” “Omg, I ‘ll totes make a resy at the resto lates today.” Then again, I probably  will never hear a sentence like that because I like to befriend people who won’t butcher the English language.  I require all of my friends to bathe on a regular basis and speak in complete sentences.  I’m setting the bar high, I know.