This Mulled Spice Cranberry Muffin recipe is a moist muffin that’s perfect on a winter day or night. The mix of cranberry and cinnamon from the mulling spice creates a delicious, savory muffin!
“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks (Cassis Orange in this episode) that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.
Episode 5 Details:
An Easy, Squeezy Night Out
Parasite children are unmarried, employed, adult children that live with their parents to save on expenses. In Japan they put a huge stress on many parents who have not planned to cover the living expenses of their adult kids and often need to go back to work just to make ends meet. This is their story and the story of the popular drink, The Cassis Orange, that embodies everything parasite children stand for.
Transcript of Podcast:
*This is the entire podcast episode in written form. Do not read if you want the audio version to be spoiled.
The bartender looked at her and pointed at the empty glass. Ema giggled, turned to her girlfriends, and raised an eyebrow. It was time to decide. Should we stay or go? The girls looked at each other and shrugged. What else did they have to do tomorrow? And this place was as good as any.
The lights were dimmed and created an atmosphere that enhanced their faces. Music, the popular plays of the month, thrummed on in the background loud enough to hear but not so loud that they couldn’t hear each other talk. And the bartender was cute. Ema looked back at the bartender, nodded and giggled once more.
The rest of the girls followed suit too. One more round. Why not? Just like the last. They go down fast after all.
Which, was a recipe that matched most of their lives. Life in the fast line filled with the latest fashionables from the luxury brands that had popped up in surprising numbers over the last decade. A decade ago she wouldn’t have been able to afford the Gucci bags either. But, her career had blossomed and, like so many others her age, late 30s, she’d succeed in offsetting one of the biggest expenses most people face – a housing expense.
No mortgage. No silly repairs and maintenance. Appliance costs were zero. Yet, she wasn’t renting either! She’d found a savvy solution. The money saved she pumped back into the economy via fancy bars and restaurants like this and portable arm candy in fashionable designs like the bag she carried tonight. I mean…why not? She was young. Live a little!
The stressors of homeownership were for the birds…or, more precisely her parents, who she coincidentally lived with in order to avoid those big life expenses. Who could blame her really? The economy was in shambles, bankrupt by prior generations. Owning a house was expensive, not to mention limiting, and so much work.
Ema was not alone. Of the five friends, including her, that were at the cocktail bar tonight, two of them lived at home and four of the five of them were single and didn’t want to ever have kids. She wasn’t sure, but she felt that, that number was pretty accurate.
Come to think of it, it had to be. She knew wayyyy more people who were without kids at her age than with them. She shrugged as another round of the colorful, tasty drink arrived. Oh well, she thought, it doesn’t matter.
Of course, her father Ken would likely disagree. Although Ema didn’t know it, he’d even referred to her as a Parasite Single. He hadn’t come up with it. It was something he read in the newspaper, an interview with some writer who remarked on the incredible trend of young men and women moving back in with their parents and draining them of their welfare checks and hard earned savings.
It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford to live on their own either. They could. They were college educated and had great paying jobs. Affording rent or a house was not an issue. Well, not an issue if you didn’t want to buy a sports car or designer clothes. It was a shrewd move, of course. Save on household expenses to spend more on entertainment and luxury.
For Ken, he hoped that Ema would figure it out. While he appreciated having her around in her twenties he always thought she’d find a man and get married. Instead she spent most of her time with her girlfriends, drinking at the bar…what was that drink they liked so much again?
He could never remember. All he knew was that it was ironic. It tasted like anything but alcohol, an easy sipping drink, as casual as the lives they lived.
The drink was rooted in a sweet, dark red liqueur. A very specific fruit was crushed and soaked in alcohol. The irony is that this liqueur came from a country with high standards for drink. It was a lowbrow drink, the poor person’s swill used to aromatize and soften cheaper wine.
This modern version came about in the 1840s, but an altered version of the drink existed before that. It just didn’t exist to sweeten sub par wine.
And if someone had told you that a hundred and fifty years later it would be used to create a simple 2 ingredient craft cocktail that sold for double digits to young kids with enough disposable income to spend their nights, most nights, eating out at fancy restaurants and paying for meals and drinks from plastic cards stuffed into designer handbags, they would have laughed at that too.
But, here we are. Ema in a bar, sipping on the cold, tasty drink that entirely masked the taste of alcohol. A parasite single, as defined by her country, but feeling more duped than anything. Go to college, they said. Get a job, they said. Be strong, independent, and female, they said.
You don’t need marriage.
Or a man.
Cheers to that.
With an orange drink that softened the cloying burn of hundreds of years of history with an easy escape. After all, this is the easy age. The buy what you want age.
Who could be bothered to pay for such things as houses and furnaces.
Just the thought of it seemed repulsive. Especially when, Ken would foot the bill.
But, Ken didn’t like to foot the bill. In fact, he wanted nothing more than his little girl to get out of the house and find a good man. So, he did what any concerned parent would do.
He went to dating conventions. Put on by matchmakers, and packed into hotel convention centers, Ken talked to other parents…who had a similar problem as his….a parasite single that wouldn’t find a new host to suck on.
After all, for generations and generations there had always been a pattern. Grow up. Find a significant other. Get married. Settle down. And move on with your life.
But, for men and women alike, this wasn’t the case anymore. So concerned, and annoyed, parents like Ken went to dating conventions to find out how they could set their single kids up with each other and get them out of the house once and for all.
Was it so bad to want their kids to experience the joys of loving and committing to another human instead of a sports car?
Where was the harm in that?
Ken didn’t know. But, he didn’t know he was part of that 20% category that wanted to enjoy his golden years but instead found himself financially support a grown ass child that had become so disillusioned and disconnected with reality that she was incapable of being a fully functioning adult.
Was society at fault? Driven by media and culture, did the quest for pelf create an entire generation, or two, of maladjusted kids who didn’t know how to function in society?
Had the government bankrupt their futures in exchange for their own through policies that hindered, handicapped, and didn’t give a fair shake?
Or, was this just another generation that had its own problems, like every other generation. But, instead of dealing with the problems of the day, this generation turned to a tall cocktail glass filled with squirt of orange juice and a French liqueur, an easy going drink that didn’t even taste like alcohol.
You could put them back, one after the other, and barely taste a thing. Then stumble home and key open the door to mommy and daddy’s house, where you could drop into bed and wake up the next day to do it all over again.
Parasite Singles.
A problem that has led to this country earning a spot at number 212 in a list of 227 for country birth rates.
A birth rate of 1.37.
Far below the 2.1 number needed for a country to maintain its population.
Below even the point of no return. 1.6.
Get below that number and a civilization will continue declining until it goes the way of the woolly mammoth, or the caveman….
A well dressed caveman with a Prada purse and Nissan supra, to be more precise.
And that’s why people are worried about Parasite Singles in Japan and the generation that would rather spend it’s money on the
Cassis Orange Cocktail
Instead of a house.
One, is a sign of stability and a future.
The other, is 5 ounces of orange juice mixed with 2 ounces of that blackcurrant liqueur Creme De Cassis from Burgundy, France and the future.
For parents like Ken it’s a reality he faces daily.
This Christmas slush is a variation of the classic brandy slush, which is popular throughout many parts of the midwest. And when made with Sam’s Glow mulling spice mixes, it’s easy!
Mulling spices include, to name a few, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, orange, and allspice. These spices, when added to slush make a delicious, unique, holiday slush. But, just don’t let the Christmas flavors fool you! This slush is good anytime the weather outside is cold, which may seem like a contradiction since it’s a cold drink. But, try it, and let us know what you think.
“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks (Daiquiri in this episode) that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.
TLDR; – Daiquiri Recipe
2 oz of white rum
1 oz lime juice
3/4 oz simple sugar
Combine, shake, toss over ice and garnish with a lime.
Episode 4 Details:
Democracy, Famous Writers, and Copper
A few strong drinks to start the day, a pouch of tobacco in your pocket, and a good buzz from a Daiquiri before heading to the mines and putting in an honest day’s work sounds delightful. Or, how about writing all morning and pulling up a stool at your favorite bar, a bar made famous because your Ernest Hemingway and you invented a version of the Daiquiri.
Transcript of Podcast:
*This is the entire podcast episode in written form. Do not read if you want the audio version to be spoiled.
The guests would arrive soon and there was no time to waste. They had come a long way. To counter the stifling heat and humidity, Jennings needed something refreshing. Then it struck him, as he took a moment to ponder how to delight his guests. Normally, he’d offer gin but he was out of that. He needed something different. Something…unique. That they had never had before.
He ran his hands through his hair. Or rather, he started in the middle of his head and, following the deep part of his hair line, spread his hands down to either ear and flattened his dark hair. Jennings still remembered the first time he’d made the drink and he grinned to himself as he walked.
He was average height and skinny, looking quite dapper in a seersucker suit. Born in the East, son to a multi-generational legacy of politicians and (fin – en – seers) financiers, Jennings was educated at a prominent school and employed by a steel company before making his way overseas and spending the rest of his life working for a multi-national iron company.
He thought back to before his arrival here, when Theodore took a famous group of soldiers up a hill and made way for American business to travel over in droves and capitalize on an untapped mine of business opportunities. Capitalism, baby! World democracy, oh yeh!
The hill Theodore took his troops up was just that. A hill. But, the hill sat on top of a ridge line. And on top of the ridge line there were block houses and cannons. To get to the ridge line also meant going through trenches and barb wire.
On the day when that famous American force took the hill, almost 20% of the troops were killed or injured, despite outnumbering the enemy 16 to 1. They fought the uphill battle against cannon fire and bullets whizzing by their heads until they finally took the top and secured victory.
These volunteer cavalryman came from throughout the southwest of the United States and ended up here, as infantrymen. Shortly after their decisive victory the war ended and the businessmen appeared.
Their path now cleared by blood, they devoured the country like junkies looking for a fix… Oh! Apologies…. I meant, they entered the country like good stewards spreading democracy.
In their spread of democracy, they found a people and a land ripe for the taking. This is what brought Jennings to the Sierra Maestra Mountains on the southeast short of Cuba to a small town that bears the name of this drink.
They lived lives of luxury too. Jennings was testament to that. A substantial salary. Tobacco rations. The landscape. Gorgeous. The culture. Beautiful. It’s no wonder that famous authors, including one manly hunter, lived here as an old man by the sea, and, with a voracious appetite, stuck to a firm daily diet of an altered version of this drink made just for him in a bar that today bears a statue of him in commemoration.
All of this didn’t matter right now though for Jennings. As he walked to the tienda, smothered by the tropical humidity, he had a plan. The drink he had in mind hadn’t disappointed in the past. Not the first time when, after him and another visiting engineer had finished inspecting the copper mines he was in charge of and needed a sweet reward.
They’d taken what they had on hand, a clear liquor, and combined it with some other local ingredients. It was a hit then, and a hit after, at the Venus Bar, where, on most mornings, him and his engineer pals would imbibe in this tart treat before heading over to the mines.
Now this was the life! A few strong drinks to start the day, a pouch of tobacco in your pocket, and a good buzz before heading to the mines and putting in an honest day’s work doing work that would protect hard working miners who carved copper out of the ground under dangerous conditions.
This carefree attitude of Americans at the time was summarized perfectly by another figure, who rose to fame a few decades later. F. Scott Fitzgerald, in his first book, where he penned this drink in print for the first time ever, spoke of love warped by greed, hedonism, and status seeking.
Even though the book is over 100 years old, the theme rings true today. Maybe more true than ever. One has to wonder. But, not to judge. That’s now what I’m here doing. I’m just having a drink and telling a story about a man, Jennings, who, in desperation, with limited ingredients, created a new cocktail.
He didn’t know it at the time, but when he left the tienda and walked home through the sticky heat carrying a bottle of this local liquor, and two other ingredients, that he would be solidifying a drink that, a decade later, would end up being a favorite among the navy.
For practical reasons of course. The military is always practical. So, what better way to have your drink and your health than by sipping on something served ice cold with citrus that could ward off the dreadful scurvy, which was a real fear for the navy at sea.
But, before the drink gained national recognition, it started humble, with a company well known in its home country but not too well known elsewhere. Jennings Cox stayed in Cuba until 1913, drinking this drink until his failing health forced him to return to the US.
By this time the drink he created and first named the “rum sour” was international. The name softened too, and the drink took on variations. Like the version Hemingway had daily when in Cuba. Or, any of the other tropical versions around today.
The drink grew in complexity to meet the insatiable and evolving needs of youthful patrons who threw down bills like pocket change and slurped back crushed ice versions in red, blue, and orange.
Maybe they sought to be transported back to the beginning and leave the cold, impersonal concrete cities behind for the warm beaches and sunshine of Cuba. Lamenting they were born in a different time. A time with less culture attached to the drinks slung in bars that all looked the same and only varied in their zip codes.
The clear rum with a burning, pungent flavor, cut by an added sweetness. It could make patrons wish they were in that small beach town in Cuba that became the drink’s namesake.
So could the original version – clear Bacardi rum, sugar, limes.
Created somewhere on the spectrum of reckless joy and sheer luck.
The Daiquiri.
Named after the beach town of Daiquiri.
Which was near Santiago De Cuba, where Jennings Cox worked as head engineer of the copper mines.
Which were operated once more after Teddy Roosevelt led his famous Rough Riders, who, ironically, did not ride on horses since they could not be easily shipped overseas from America, but instead ran on foot through trenches, cannon balls, and bullet fire, to take the ridge of San Juan Hill, secure the posts there, and, ultimately the victory in the Cuban War for independence,
which the US had intervened in…. Out of the goodness of their hearts, no doubt.
