drinks

NINETY PER CENT OF THE TIME, I find myself drinking water, which doesn’t sound very exciting, and certainly wouldn’t make for an engaging drink chapter. But there you have it: I drink a lot of water.

Water is a drink I actually try to jazz up on occasion. For example, I sometimes infuse a jug of cold water with a handful of hibiscus leaves. I enjoy that, strained, with frozen berries over ice. When winter citrus is in season, I slice a few oranges, lemons, tangerines, and cumquats into a jug and fill the jug with ice and either sparkling or still water. Summer calls for pressing watermelon through a sieve to extract the juice and mixing it with equal parts water. Also refreshing is lemon and cucumber in a jug of water. The addition of a slice or two of ginger doesn’t hurt, either, and a splash of fruit syrup in a well-chilled flute of sparkling water is hard to beat.

Beyond that, I’m a bit particular about drinks. I find myself most excited about light, bright, refreshing beverages. I buy a certain Prosecco by the case and have adopted it as our house wine. I love its subtle tart-apple notes and the way it dances around my mouth. I like to explore different pilsners and also saison-style beers—summery, often enthusiastically carbonated, and easy-drinking. Or, dry French ciders—complex, beguiling, and a fun alternative to sparkling wine. The heavy, super-juicy, high-octane wines with alcohol levels at 15 or 16 per cent just don’t go with my style of cooking, so I generally pass them by.

On the fancy beverage front, my repertoire is short and spritzy, and none involve hard alcohol. I’ve included a handful of those here, alongside a number of favourite non-alcoholic refreshers.