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The Best Miller High Life I’ve Ever Had

First off, I must admit, I detest most mass produced American beer. I’d rather go thirsty than drink a Budweiser or Miller Lite. But sometimes, the forces of the universe come together in a way that can make even a crappy bottle of beer taste like liquid gold from heaven. On this particular night, in this particular place, my bottle of Miller High Life rivaled the finest champagne. What!? How? Why? The reasons are many. But let me set the scene…

The place – Earnestine & Hazel’s Bar in Memphis, Tennessee. It was HOT out, and hot in the bar, as well. Memphis heat in the summertime somehow feels exponentially hotter than it should due to some insane screwup in the Lord’s system for maintaining a proper humidity level in the atmosphere. Sweat is a constant companion. All attempts to escape it are futile. Earnestine & Hazel’s probably has some form of air conditioning, I’m not sure. I do know that the warren of decrepit rooms upstairs is kept company by a single floor fan in the hallway, a floor fan that feels great if you’re one foot away from it, but is maddeningly ineffective at any other distance. Does it sound like a crappy place to be? It’s not. It’s a run down mess of an amazing place, seeped in soul, awash in memories, sweating out years of alcohol and dancing and music and ghosts and sex (Disclaimer: the building is a former brothel, no sex took place at the establishment on this particular night, at least none that I’m aware of).

This particular night was a Sunday night, which is jazz night at Earnestine & Hazel’s. The scene is straight out of a Treme episode (if Treme were set in Memphis rather than New Orleans), musicians hanging out loosely at the bar and at tables around the small area set aside for the band, alternately drinking beers and standing up for effortlessly enthusiastic solos. The band was on, coming together in waves, improvising, coming back to the melody, darting off again. They added to the heat in the air, the sticky humidity.

So we’ve got a hot Memphis night, a hot old dive of a bar, a hot jazz jam, and… oh, yeah, the main accompaniment to that Miller High Life – a hot “Soul Burger.” There is no menu at Earnestine & Hazel’s, unless you consider that taped-on sign above the flat top grill to be a menu. The Soul Burger does indeed have soul, thin patties pounded down, chopped onions and pickles, mustard, a crisped bun, all crunched together into a moment of burger righteousness. So now the setting is complete. Hot night in Memphis, hot dive bar, hot music, hot burger – the conditions are right to elevate just about any beer to savior-status. While Earnestine & Hazel’s is light on air conditioning, their beer fridge works very, very well. So this particular beer, an ice cold Miller High Life, “the champagne of beers” (of course!), was given every benefit in life, every opportunity to make his momma proud, and he delivered. This was the Miller High Life to beat all Miller High Lifes. Liquid gold from heaven, with a side of soul.

(Speaking of soul, check out my post on seeking soul in the Memphis dining scene, over at Creative Loafing’s Omnivore blog)

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What the heck is water ice?

Water and ice are two things that go very well with drinking in the South. Water to keep you hydrated, to bring out the flavor in a particularly strong bourbon or whiskey, to create… well… ice. And ice to cool things down, from sweet tea to cocktails to a bottle of wine to a bucket of beer. The term “water ice” sounds so absurd, so idiotic, that it must be either a mean trick created by Northerners or one of the many expressions for snow used by the Eskimo. Well, it turns out that it WAS created by Northerners, but it’s no mean trick. The origins of the term are murky, but it seems to be centered around Philadelphia, where the term “water ice” is basically another name for “Italian ice.”

Rita’s, which started in Bensalem, Pennsylvania, over twenty five years ago, used to be called Rita’s Water Ice. They now use the more generic “Italian ice” description, or simply “ice,” for what they make, as they roll out franchises across the South (including 12! locations in Georgia) and come across folks like me who are likely to think they’re nuts for calling something “water ice.”

In Memphis recently, I came across a water ice truck, an offshoot of a retail shop there called Parker’s Water Ice. I actually like the fact that they still call it “water ice” – and are willing to risk confused faces and angry Southern stares. Their water ice was great, as was their “gelati” – a term which Rita’s and Parker’s use to refer to a combo of soft serve ice cream (or custard) and water ice. Confused yet? Good.

No matter what you call it, water ice is delicious (if made well, with good ingredients, as both Rita’s and Parker’s do). And it should catch on in the South like sweet tea has all over the rest of the country – like wildfire.

A pineapple and cherry gelati at Parker's Water Ice truck
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What To Do With All That Extra Bourbon!???

If you’re reading Thirsty South, you’re probably thinking, “WHAT extra bourbon?,” as there is no such thing as too much bourbon in our book. Nevertheless, finding alternate applications for this superb spirit is sometimes as much fun as just sitting down for a sip of it. When we saw a recipe for Bourbon Butter Pecan Gelato over on Imbibe.com, we knew we had to give it a shot. And the results were fabulous, an ice cream (I wouldn’t call it gelato) that weaves together the warmth of bourbon, the nutty crunch of pecans, and the, well, butteriness of butter into one sinfully sweet treat. We followed the recipe pretty much as is, but had to top it off with an extra drizzle of Evan Williams Single Barrel bourbon as well. You can never have too much bourbon, you know.

 

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Sangria in the Summer

A big party with lots of friends from the neighborhood is the perfect time to break out some sangria. Not too stuffy or serious. Enough fruit to keep the white zin crowd (and the vegans) happy. And visual appeal out the wazzoo. Don’t believe me? Check it:

This is a batch of white sangria jazzed up with vanilla seeds, some white cranberry/peach juice from the fine folks at Ocean Spray, and a secret ingredient – Dolin Blanc vermouth – which adds some really nice depth under the fruity sweetness. This was a bit improvised, but the idea for the the vanilla and white cranberry/peach combo came from an old Bon Apetit recipe. Here’s the Thirsty South version, perfect for peach season in the South:

White Sangria with Vanilla and Peach

1 bottle Riesling, preferably on the dry side
1 1/2 cups Ocean Spray white cranberry and peach
1/2 cup Dolin Blanc vermouth
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
2 fresh Georgia peaches, cut into wedges
1 lemon, sliced into rounds
1 orange, cut in half and sliced into rounds
a bunch of raspberries

Mix first 4 ingredients in a large pitcher. Scrape in seeds from vanilla bean; add bean and stir to blend. Add in peach and citrus. Cover and chill overnight. Add raspberries before serving, pour over ice.

Now, this batch of sangria went way too quickly, but there was plenty of sangria-infused fruit left in the pitcher. We happened to have a few bottles of Savida Sangria sitting around, and poured them into the pitcher to keep the party going. Savida is actually based in Atlanta, and they are among the best options out there if you’re looking for a ready-made sangria. They use good quality California wine and real fruit juice, and work well when you’re in a pinch for something quick. Salud!

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A White Elephant at The Gin Joint, Charleston

There was one primary cocktail destination (OK, and a few secondary destinations as well) on our recent visit to Charleston – The Gin Joint – and the experience did not disappoint. Their cocktail menu is creative, diverse and expansive. The feel is that of a comfortable, modern take on the speakeasy. The service is knowledgable and friendly. And the drinks are perfectly executed.

A local friend had recommended one particular cocktail that The Gin Joint is known for – their “White Elephant.” There’s no relation here to the White Elephant that features vodka and creme de cacao; owner/bartender Joe Raya informed us that this one is a twist on the classic Hemingway daiquiri which had its origins in 1930’s era Havana at one of Hemingway’s haunts, the El Floridita Bar. The twist in The Gin Joint’s drink is that it replaces white rum with a tequila blanco, and the name comes from Hemingway’s book titled “Hills Like White Elephants.” That book is set in Spain, but it’s the Mexican tequila that sets this drink apart – our version included Espolon Tequila Blanco, which lends an earthiness to the drink that balances the sweet citrus incredibly well. The other key ingredient is Luxardo Maraschino Liqueur – accept no substitutes!

Here you go, The Gin Joint’s recipe for a White Elephant, followed by some photos to give you a feel for this great little bar in Charleston, South Carolina.

The White Elephant
1.5 oz tequila blanco, such as Espolon
3/4 oz fresh lime juice
3/4 oz simple syrup
1/2 oz fresh grapefruit juice
1/4 oz Luxardo Maraschino Liqueur

Shake all ingredients well over crushed ice, strain into a chilled glass. Garnish with a Luxardo Maraschino cherry if desired.