In August of last year, I became the luckiest guy in the world when Christine Nylin accepted my proposal for marriage. Being the dork I am, I set out to make up a cocktail symbolizing the event. I named it The Union, which not only highlights the joining of two into one, but also happens to be the name of the restaurant where I tend bar.

That cocktail has gotten a lot of play recently, the recipe popping up on different web sites, magazines and recipe collections. And now, it has another moment in the sun, for on a spectacularly beautiful August 3rd in Seattle, I became even luckier the luckiest guy in the world when Christine became my wife.

In that spirit, I offer up our recipe to share with you. Check it out after the jump.

There are some people who it is just plain good to know. When you're in college, for example, the guy with a truck is incredibly helpful, and when you go in to business, the understanding accountant and the slightly unethical lawyer are almost necessities.

A few years ago, my friend John became one of these fabulously helpful people. A lifelong resident of southwest Virginia and a trained chemist, John had a skill set that was uniquely wonderful: he knew how to get hold of moonshine, and he knew how to test it for impurities. While the grain liquor (or "likker," if you prefer) that I got from John wasn't all that cheap, it was completely flavorless, and I soon discovered that it made the perfect carrier for various fruits. Within a couple of months, I had a collection of incredibly delicious infused cordials that I would mix with seltzer or tonic water to produce light, moderately alcoholic spritzers with insanely pure tastes.

The boozefest that is Tales Of The Cocktail has been everything I thought it'd be, and I have to admit it's nice, for the moment, to be relatively sober. You see, you can't go very far in New Orleans without being tempted to have a drink. When you throw the world's biggest cocktail and spirit schmoozefest/symposium, it is definitely hard to hold on to your sobriety. Not that any of us want to, of course.

This is just a reminder of something I posted earlier, but should you be interested in following the goings-on at this fantastic event, there is a cocktail blog called, literally enough, Tales Blog. The contributors are bloggers like myself, and we'll be consistently updating the site with differing interpretations. Should this particular site fail to fully scratch the itch, each blogger will also be updating their personal sites, and I strongly encourage you to check them out. They are, in no particular order....

. . . and I know a few of you do during the dog days of summer, here's an alternative to that ubiquitous coconut libation.

The original Painkiller has its genesis in the wonderfully named Soggy Dollar Bar, on the island of Jost Van Dyke in the British Virgin Islands. Since there is no dock for sailors to tie up to, they are forced to swim to shore. Of course, the money gets wet so the proprietors had the novel idea of stringing up a clothesline to air-dry the money. So there you have it, the Soggy Dollar Bar.
The owner, a British expat named Daphne Henderson, became locally famous for a cocktail she dubbed The Painkiller. Though it's recipe was kept secret, the rum she used has it's own interesting back-story.

I've got a bias against infusions. I admit it, and I feel so much better for having gotten that off my chest. Why the bias? I'm not sure. Maybe it has something to do with altering the integrity of a spirit. Maybe because everyone with a mason jar has got some science experiment going on behind the bar. Maybe I'd just rather taste the fresh flavors of the fruit/herb/vegetable rather than the vodka-soaked version.

Oh, I know. Most of them don't work. Up until about a month ago, I would have said none of them work. Then, I got to taste Tequila Por Mi Amante.

I have to thank and give credit to Paul Clarke for this one. Paul has introduced me to quite a few cocktails and cocktail ingredients, and I'm a better bartender for having read his site. He is, in my opinion, the best blogger on cocktails on the whole internet and one of the best writers on this topic in the world. Bookmark his site. Go ahead, I'll wait. . . .

Do you have a personal blog? Yes, I do. It's Movingatthespeedoflife.blogspot.com. Longest URL ever! I've been meaning to change it for a long time. I get carpal tunnel symptoms every time I type that thing in.

What is your day job, or rather, what do you do when you're not drink blogging? I bartend at Union restaurant in Seattle. Ethan Stowell, the chef and owner, has recently been nominated for a James Beard award (Best NW Chef) and was named among the ten best new chefs of 2008 by Food and Wine magazine. It's an exciting time to be at the restaurant, that's for sure. He gives me freedom behind the bar, so I'm doing my best to offer cocktails that can stand up to all the hard work the kitchen guys are doing. So many restaurants/bartenders just mail it in when it comes to cocktail programs. I want Union to be different.

How long have you been blogging with Slashfood and what is your favorite post? Been here since February, I think. Prior to that I blogged for AOL Drinks. My favorite post is the recent Mint Julep post, mostly because of all the beautiful quotes I pulled and that video link brings a tear to this old bartender's eye.

Do you have any non-food-related, non-blogging hobbies? Hobbies? Who has time for hobbies? Does reading count? Does going out on the town?

I know the Kentucky Derby was last month, and by some measures the venerable Mint Julep only crosses our radar then and then only. But when the day is hot and the thirst is mighty, I'd strongly suggest banging out a Julep. In continuing with the mint in cocktails theme, I'd like to cobble together a love letter of sorts to perhaps America's most iconic cocktail. . . an ode to the Mint Julep, in quotes and in a video link:

"They say that you may always know the grave of a Virginian as, from the quantity of julep he has drunk, mint invariably springs up where he has been buried."
Frederick Marryat, 1839

"....that the mounds of ices, and the bowls of mint-julep and sherry cobbler they make in these latitudes, are refreshments never to be thought of afterwards, in summer, by those who would preserve contented minds."
Charles Dickens, while traveling in America, 1842

"If the mark of a great cocktail is the number of unbreakable rules it generates, then the mint julep may be America's preeminent classic, edging out the martini in a photo finish.
William Grimes, 'Straight Up Or On The Rocks'

Nothing signifies late spring/early summer better for me than to see a bartender muddling mint for a cocktail. The light, clean flavors of mint bring a certain delicacy and refreshing quality to a drink, whether it be in the iconic Mint Julep, the omnipresent Mojito or any number of classic or new creations. On a hot summer day, nothing beats a cocktail elevated with the crisp flavor of mint.

Given its fragility, mint is an easy herb to abuse. I've been to a number of bars and home parties where the bartender or host absolutely punish the mint, leaving a bitter, limp cocktail that loses all its intended charm. Truth be told, a great Julep or Mojito is harder than you'd think. Personally, I struggled for a long time with mint cocktails, simply because, like most people, I didn't understand what I was dealing with.

Despite evidence to the contrary, Cinco de Mayo is not Spanish for 'another excuse to get totally faced.' What Cinco de Mayo has come to signify in this country, however, is exactly that. Just like we knock back Guinness on St. Patrick's Day and gorge ourselves on beer and brats during Oktoberfest, Cinco de Mayo has become our way of showing appreciation for our Mexican neighbors in the best way we know how; by getting slobber-faced.

This upcoming May 5, we'll be raising glasses of tequila. So let's take a minute and find out exactly what is in that glass and clear up some misconceptions.

Love cocktails? Spirits? Want to know how to make your own bitters, infused syrups or tinctures? Interested in bartending techniques or the history of the craft? Or, heck, do you like to drink? Brothers and sisters, have I got an event for you. . .

Tales Of The Cocktail is the only event of its kind. From July 16-20th bartenders, spirit representatives, notable authors, mixologists and enthusiastic barflies will gather in New Orleans to celebrate, attend seminars and drink a whole bunch of hooch. Tickets are available on the TOTC site. Hope to see you there.

Additionally, I've been invited to be a participating writer for the all-star blog site that they are putting together for the event, Talesblog.com. In the coming months, we will be previewing the events, seminars and notable participants of this wonderful event. I guarantee you won't find a giddier bunch.

No bar can be complete without them (heck, for my money, no bartender can be complete without them). Every bar has at least one bottle stashed somewhere, and more and more, the hallmark of great bars and bartenders proudly displays at least a half-dozen, not including ones they've made themselves. Each variety lends a complexity impossible to find anywhere else and almost always elevate each cocktail into something special.

So what, exactly, are bitters, and why are they so important? Well, first, there are two kinds, potable and nonpotable. Potable bitters generally double as digestifs, something you drink after dinner. Fernet-Branca and Campari are two famous examples of potable bitters. The ones we're talking about here are nonpotable (which means they're not meant to be consumed on their own). Bitters are, in general, made from a witches-brew combination of herbs and citrus blended with alcohol, and were intended as remedies for all sorts of ailments, particularly those involving the stomach. Why are they important? A friend of mine and master bartender, Jamie Boudreau, likens bitters to how a chef utilizes salt, as essential an ingredient as there is in any kitchen. Each type of bitters available lends it's own unique characteristics to a cocktail.

For the sake of introduction of these products, we're going to limit the flavor wheel to the three most common.

For the first time in years, I won't be bartending this St. Paddy's Day. For the first time in years, I'll be on the other side, elbowing my way to the bar and signaling to a hapless, overworked barkeep that I, Keith Waldbauer, believe it's time for me to get my drink on.

And after all this time, boy am I ever thirsty.

So, what am I drinking? There will be Guinness, of that you can be sure. And, sure, I'll down a Tullamore Dew, two if I start feeling it. If the night gets away from me, I may even be talked into that Irish Car Bomb my friends are pushing toward me. First thing, though, let me tell you, I'll be tipping back a Tipperary.

Is it a typical Irish cocktail? No, not really. There's the Irish whiskey in it, of course, and then there is the name, which comes from both a town and a county in Ireland. It has a green tinge to it as well, courtesy of Chartreuse, a French liquer made by Carthusian monks since the 1700's.

So why a Tipperary on St. Paddy's Day, then, if the associations are rather slight? Because, my dear friend, while everyone else if fattening up on too much beer and slobbering over too many shots, you'll be at the end of the bar with a classic, 90 year old cocktail in your hands, taking your time with a well-balanced beverage. And with juuust enough Irish elements to keep you in the spirit of the moment. Here's my version of the Tipperary:

Tipperary

2 oz Irish whiskey (I generally use Bushmills)
3/4 oz sweet vermouth
1/4 oz green Chartreuse

Stir well, strain into a chilled cocktail glass. No garnish required here.

Slainte!!

We have a 29th of February this year, making this a Leap Year ... making Friday a Leap Day. So what does that mean?

Well, we have an extra day to put off preparing our taxes (yes!), and an extra day standing between us and summer (boo!). Just like the Olympics and Presidential elections (yeah, we get yet another day of political sniping, too), Leap Years come every four years. It also means it's time to dust off an old classic cocktail called, ingeniously enough, the Leap Year Cocktail.

This hibernating little fellow comes courtesy of the Savoy Cocktail Book, first authored by Harry Craddock and remains, 78 years after publication, a benchmark for tradition-minded bartenders and scholars alike. There are over 750 recipes in the book, a few of which have notations augmenting their worth. I'm going to lift the entire quote regarding the Leap Year.

This cocktail was created by Harry Craddock for the Leap Year celebrations at the Savoy Hotel, London, on February 29, 1928. It is said to have been responsible for more proposals than any other cocktail ever mixed.

Well alrighty then! That's quite a feat considering the little bugger pokes its head out of the ground every Presidential cycle, but okay, I won't quibble with anything reaching its 80th birthday. The recipe is after the jump, taken from a more modern perspective from Gary Regan's excellent Joy of Mixology.

It's Mardi Gras and Carnival season (already!) so pop some vitamin C if you're still nursing your New Years hangover because, dang it, it's party time!

The quintessential Mardi Gras cocktail is, no doubt, the infamous Hurricane. The history of the Hurricane is rather murky, with some cocktail chroniclers pointing to its purported invention in the 1940's at Pat O' Brien's as a way to alleviate the enormous amounts of rum shoved upon him by his distributors. Others cite the 1939 World's Fair in New York at the (ahem) Hurricane Bar. Whether or not it was actually invented at O'Brien's, certainly the credit for the continuing popularity of this drink belongs to that establishment. If you go today, you'll get a pre-mixed version instead of one made with real fruit juice, so maybe stick to whipping up this cocktail at home.

The Hurricane

• 2 oz. light rum
• 2 oz. dark rum
• 1 oz. fresh orange juice
• 3/4 oz. fresh lime juice
• 2 oz. passion fruit juice
• 1/2 oz. simple syrup
• Grenadine to taste

(I personally prefer this drink without it, but several recipes recommend throwing in some pineapple juice, anywhere from 1 to 2 ounces. It's your call.)

We here at Raising The Bar are shamelessly dedicated to helping you enjoy your nights out on the town and improving the drinks you pay for. We also believe knowledge is power, and the best place to start is with cocktail books.

The first cocktail book I ever saw belonged to my parents. I'm not sure how old I was, but doubt I'd hit puberty yet. Anyway, being fascinated with the secret world of adults and, more specifically, anything forbidden to me, I filched a cocktail book from the bar and daydreamed about knocking back all the cocktails with funky and exotic ingredients. There was the Adonis with orange bitters and sherry, the White Russian (which my mom loved) with something called Kahlua and, oooooh, a drink called (snicker) The Bosom Caresser.

That book was the classic Mr. Boston's Bartender's Guide, with the red cover and the engraved portrait of man in a top hat, presumably ol' Boston himself just itching to get you soused. It's perhaps the most ubiquitous cocktail book in the world. Look up the skirt of most bars in America and you're bound to find a Mr. Boston's that collecting dust, but ready to save a bartender's ass if a weird or forgotten drink is requested, as it has been doing for 73 years. In fact, that should be that book's tagline: Mr Boston's Deluxe Official Bartender's Guide ... Saving Bartender's Asses Since 1935.

Cocktail books aren't just for bartenders. There are wonderful books out there that shine a light on the darkened corners of cocktail history and, at their best, re-introduce delicious vintage recipes that had long ago been unfairly put out to pasture, just waiting for some geek like me to get thirsty enough to try them. Below is a list of books which do just that. Now, the list is far from comprehensive. The purists and the dorks (like me) will shout how no list is complete without Jerry Thomas, they'll pooh-pooh any library without Gary Regan, and insist one can only truly begin with the mythical (but out-of-print) Jones Guide or the storied tomes by David Embury or Ted Saucier. However, the six books listed below are, in my opinion, excellent places to begin, each with their own quirky merits: