When it was happening, I didn’t think much of it. I was at a party at my Aunt Celia and Uncle Maurice’s house and happy to be there. Parties at my different aunt’s and uncle’s houses were always good (except for the trying to get my parents to leave part), but in different ways. They both involved good-byes followed by an hour or two of singing, followed by more good-byes and then more song. One had piles of comic books and big comfortable chairs to read them in and a hill up the street to roll down into traffic on a Big Wheel™; the other had a huge back yard and crazy realistic looking marzipan fruit that looked way better than they tasted and bowls of really, really good gummy bears on every side table. As you can tell, I was a very profound child with complex needs.
Anyway, I was walking through the kitchen, sent to get a glass of ice or maybe searching for some soda or a box of crackers for the cheese and I remember my uncle taking a large wood bowl out of a cabinet and setting it on the counter. He peeled a garlic clove and then smashed it against the inside of the bowl, circling the perimeter multiple times with the clove. One of those throw-away moments that doesn’t register at the time but you return to again in later years.
My uncle was an epicure.
When I discovered the Thin Man movies I had a brief moment of recognition of my aunt and uncle in these characters and in that recognition realized that it was part of why I moved to New York City: the good life, the bon vivants, the quick wits and the people who owned specific bowls for their salads that they seasoned with smashed garlic cloves. That world seemed much more the place for me than the shopping malls and the endless driving of the suburbs that I desperately wanted to escape. As you can tell, I was a very profound 17 year old with complex needs.
My uncle gave me my first taste of a Sidecar – a bad one, as he was quick to point out – with too much Cointreau tipping the balance from the perfect medium between sweet and tart to a treacly sweetness.
I have since spent many nights with sidecars in my hand, all with interesting outcomes. Tonight I made one for my Uncle Maurice, in thanks for the world he introduced me to.
Sidecar
fresh squeezed lemon juice
Armagnac (traditional is Cognac, but this is what I use)
Couintreau (or orange liqueur of your choice)
- Using the three ingredients in equal proportions, but perhaps leaving a splash less of the orange liqueur out of the equation, shake strenuously with ice in a cocktail shaker then pour into a cocktail glass with a sugared rim. Lemon rind garnish is optional.









