___ No matter which holiday, holiday drinks present certain challenges to the art of mixology.  Most often, they are not driven by normal culinary objectives like taste and balance.  Usually, there are other considerations, like color or certain seasonal ingredients.  I know this because I’ve created or adapted a number of them: a pumpkin pie “martini” for Thanksgiving; a red, white, and blue-layered drink for the Fourth of July; and all the rest.  Don’t get me wrong, these things work because people order them and say, “Yum!”  And let’s not get snooty about it, that’s a valid assessment of a successful concoction.

But my objective is not just yum and done; it’s about classically crafted cocktails using ingredients that happen to be on hand or easily obtainable.  As my Christmas – Hanukah – Winter Solstice gift to Guerrilla Cocktail fans, I’ll provide two recent recipes I put together.  The first one really has nothing to do with a holiday except it was spontaneously created on Thanksgiving Day.

_ It’s the household chore that gets put off, the homework assignment I don’t want to do, and the root canal I’m not looking forward to.   

I have put myself into a corner with this whole blog thing.  I have promised to report on all the spontaneous concoctions I put together, and that includes a few words about the place we went to, the food we got, and any other drinks we may have ordered.  Full disclosure is such a bear.  No wonder elected officials have such a hard time with it – but don’t get me started on
that!  So, to evade a little more, I’ll start with a little history
With all the electronic newsletters and emails I get related to the bibulous world of spirited drinks, it was impossible to not know that December 5 was Repeal Day.  That was the date in 1933 when the 21st Amendment was ratified, declaring an end to The Noble Experiment of Prohibition.  If I look at the goings on in politics, today, I wonder if there aren’t other equally questionable initiatives being thrust upon the citizenry with grand but dubious intentions destined to end with costly unintended consequences.  But instead of dwelling on such daunting _thoughts, my mind actually wandered to wondering about Paris in January of 1924.

This was the Paris of The Lost Generation when literary, artistic, and intellectual giants meandered from café to café warming themselves by the fires of open braziers.  The likes of Ernest Hemmingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Gertrude Stein, just to drop a few very prominent names, would have certainly made their way to Harry’s New York Bar at 5, Rue Daunou.