In my bartending days (20+ years ago) I think I only made 2 or 3 Old Fashioneds. It just wasn’t a popular drink in the 90s. I made countless B-52s and Kamikazes, but I digress. I always thought the Old Fashioned was something for old folks and best left to them.

Fast forward 20 years…

A couple of years ago at the annual Fumare cigar lounge Christmas pop-up I saw my friends drinking a cocktail that curiously looked familiar. It wasn’t until a year later, when I saw them drinking it again, that I decided to order one for myself.

And I was pleasantly blown away.

A premium Old Fashioned is a particularly lovely cocktail. Since Christmas last year I’ve been experimenting with different whiskeys and bitters, even different garnishes and sugars. I’ve made hundreds of Old Fashioneds in the last six months. I’ve finally settled on my favorite recipe and it’s rather traditional.

So here it is:

• One sugar cube
• 5 shakes of Angostura bitters
• 2 oz of Rittenhouse rye whiskey

Combine in a highball glass, muddle items until sugar cube dissolves. Add a ball of ice (I like to use these molds). Garnish with a cherry (I like Luxardo) and a twist of orange peel (I like to use blood orange). Stir. Enjoy immediately. Make a few more. Pass out.

I like rye. Oh my, do I like rye. I find it much more interesting, way more complex, than bourbon. I like the tangy spiciness of rye. Rittenhouse is a damn fine rye for mixing drinks (and it’s 100 proof, woowoo!!). Of the countless bourbons and whiskeys I’ve tried in my Old Fashioneds over the last 6 months, Rittenhouse is the tastiest.

I have quite a collection of bitters now. Among the more recognizable: Regan’s, Fee Brothers, Peychaud’s, Angostura. The Regan’s is bitter indeed, but not much else. The Fee Brothers is too strong of cinnamon and sugar. The Peychauds is overpowering of anise. Only Angostura is able to both complement and tame the spicy Rittenhouse.

If you are still using those cheap pink fake Maraschino cherries from the dessert isle then shame be upon you. Go get some Luxardo cherries, plebe. That’s all I have to say on this subject.

And if you really want to be pinky-in-the-air then use some brown sugar cubes. I don’t really notice much difference between these and the pure cane sugar cubes, but you may be able to impress your guests with the brown.

Seriously, go get some Rittenhouse rye. It’s not great neat or on the rocks, but it is fantastic as a mixer. And use it to make some Manhattans while yer at it!

 

Last week my cousin Mike died and I barely knew him.

Mike’s mother and my father are siblings, but they aren’t close. Growing up, I didn’t spend any time with her family. I only have a vague memory of going to her house once when I was a small kid. And I think I remember my cousin Mike being there.

In high school, by accident, I happened upon my cousin Mike at my favorite surfing spot–Shark’s Cove in Capitola, near the end of 41st St. I remember my cousin telling me, as I paddled furiously into a wave, “Tee if you don’t catch this wave I’ll have no respect for you” with a huge grin on his face. Even though Mike had position, he let me have the wave. I caught it, and rode it into the cove. After our surfing session Mike invited me back to his apartment. I thought it was weird, and yet kinda cool, that he was rebuilding a classic motorcycle…in his living room.

Fast forward 20 years and I have another vague memory of discussing fly fishing on Putah Creek near Vacaville and Davis, where we both lived at the time. Maybe it was on Facebook, or in e-mail.  Perhaps at a family gathering. I don’t recall clearly.

And that’s it. That’s all I remember. That’s all I got. Just those three times.

Yesterday my dad texts me that my cousin Mike died of cancer. Mike?  Mike Knepp?  I had to Google his name. I found out that he was 64.

64. Geez. My mom was 64 when she died. Mike was 64 already? I had no idea. I haven’t seen him in 30 years. I didn’t know he was sick. Obviously we weren’t close.

So why is this hitting me so hard?

And it *has* hit me hard.

I spent all day yesterday and today thinking about my cousin Mike. Trying to remember. When did I last see him? When did we last talk? What did I know about him? I wish I could remember more.

If I only have 3 memories of him, did we have a relationship? He was family, we were kin, he was my blood, and yet I know next to nothing about him, and now he’s gone.

It was a missed opportunity.

Mike and I had 17 years difference between us and our parents weren’t close. And yet I felt a connection with him. Surfing was a huge part of my life in my teens and twenties and we accidentally found ourselves on the same wave near Santa Cruz. And when we both tired of the crowds at the beaches we retreated into the peace and solitude of fly fishing. Maybe we did have a connection, maybe not. Maybe it’s just my imagination.

No.  We *did* have a connection. It was real.

After Googling Mike, I found out that he was a woodworker, a guitar maker, a general contractor, an artist, a painter, a photographer. I knew half of those things. The point is that Mike had lots of interests, lots of hobbies, lots of careers–just like me.

I wonder if things could have been different, would we have been closer? If I had pursued a relationship with Mike, maybe I would have known that he was sick. Maybe I could have told him that I never forgot surfing with him on the California Coast. Maybe we could have fly fished together. Maybe we could have been friends.

I’m left with this feeling of regret and remorse for something I never had. Mike and barely knew each other. We were blood and we surfed together once and that’s about it.

But now that he’s gone I’ll never get that chance to get to know him. I’ll never get that chance to tell him that I liked him. And for that I am sorry.

Farewell, cousin.

https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/sacbee/obituary.aspx?n=michael-anthony-knepp&pid=191438415