It is that time of year again, and I don’t mean the time for Christmas songs or raking leaves, not the time that the mittens come out or the hot chocolate is stocked. For me, this time of year has quite another flirtatiously nostalgic meaning: Halloween Cocktails. It is this enchanting time of year when I don the imaginary witches’ hat (okay, maybe not so imaginary, since I do own a few…) and begin brewing and stirring and cackling while I drop a bit of this and a splash of that into libations and concoctions of a mysterious kind.

Last year was all about the Purple People Eater, a cocktail that was as sweet as a jolly rancher and went down like kids’ koolaid. Lots of jolliness accompanied that one. Oh and I made a special point to stir a ghost into oblivion; I called this misshapen white cocktail the Liquefied Ghost. Half the fun is naming them, after all. What’s the other half? Brewing them and handing them to suspicious looking guests.

This year I have been working on a special concoction, something spooky and sour, sassy and smart. I imagine a spider hissing and flailing until it wilts into the bottom of my glass. Sunken Spider. Drunken Spider. Smashed Spider. Black Widow. Wilted Widow. What to call this spooky Halloween drink? The jury is out: did the spider sink because it is past its prime or because it primed the pump? Is this scary spider dead or drunk? Either way, with legs dangling over the sides, it leaves much to be desired. And so it goes with haunting libations.

I need your help: what would you call this drink? One of the names listed above or another? Black Widow is a placeholder, a temporary name for this laughably leggy drink:

Black Widow
Cream de Cassis
Vodka
triple sec
fresh lemon juice
Pomegranate juice
licorice strings

For two cocktails (or one cocktail shaker): 2 parts cassis, 3 parts vodka, 1 part triple sec, 1 part lemon juice, 1 part pomegranate. Sorry, even though I bought a little measuring glass for shots, I never seem to use it. I make cocktails with ratios. If I were over my skillet, each ‘part’ would translate to a ‘glugg’ of olive oil. Just think in fractions: for the Black Widow, your shaker is 8 parts. Go from there. Too much of this, too little of that: trust me, the spider really won’t care one way or another.

This entry was posted on Monday, October 22nd, 2007 at 8:40 am and is filed under drinks, halloween. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.