#buzzballz

#buzzballz

The redesign, led by New York-based Legeard Studio, turns what was once a fairly standard hotel entry into something more along the lines of a design-forward hangout you'd actually hang out at.

Named after a community-focused cafe in Dublin, this drink has a flavour profile that brings to mind berry compote and scones. It's delicious as a single serving, or make a big batch and serve as a punch to share with friends.

But then the playoffs arrive, and you and I are reminded of what makes twilight football-outdoors and on grass-special. You start off in broad daylight as both teams fuck around for a quarter or two. Then the sun slowly begins to bleed away, taking all distractions along with it as it sinks below the horizon. Now we're in primetime, when everyone is watching. Now every player on the field is in the spotlight, and you, the viewer at home, are dialed in.

Used to strain ice and other ingredients out of shaken cocktails, a Hawthorne strainer is a small, flat, spoon-like gadget with holes plus a coiled spring around the edge. You simply fit it over the rim of a glass or shaker tin before pouring liquids through. It's essential for cleanly separating the cocktail from the ice without spilling or creating a mess during the pour.

I prefer frozen for blended drinks like daiquiris and margaritas; they add chill and texture without watering down the flavor. Fresh berries are better for drinks that are muddled.

While one of the bartenders at the legendary Connaught Bar in London mixes your martini tableside, you're invited to choose your bitters to complete the drink. Lavender, perhaps? Or would tonka, coriander, or cardamom please you? Oh, what about the house-developed Dr. Ago's? Whatever your choice, you feel special for having collaborated on your order. But in truth, the selection process is so carefully planned by the Connaught that they're still behind the wheel. It's customization and control in perfect balance.

just before we collectively stumbled into this shitty timeline marred by "fake news" and idiot fascism, a journalist did that thing that journalism used to do: hold power to account. In this case, the power was Big Bay Leaf, and the reporter was Kelly Conaboy, writing for the Awl on a "vast bay leaf conspiracy" that-then as now-cons well-meaning home cooks into buying weird leaves that taste and smell like "nothing."