When I was a kid, I loved action movies - nay, I was obsessed with them. When my friends and I shot each other up with our Super Soakers in the summer months, I was Bruce Willis in Die Hard, I was Steven Seagal in Under Siege. When the Super Soaker battles turned to snowball fights, I was Sylvester Stallone in Cliffhanger. (Hey, our cap guns jammed in the cold weather. We had to make do.) It didn't hurt that my grandfather, in addition to owning the first home bar I'd ever seen (and it was a beaut), also housed a prodigious collection of movies he'd recorded off the TV, many of which were R-rated and as gory as any underage boy could hope for.

All of this came rushing back to me when I took this week's issue of Entertainment Weekly out of the mailbox. I thought, "Hey, finally a list I can get behind." And then I saw Spider-Man on the cover. I fucking hate Spider-Man. But no matter - EW does manage to be pretty bang-on with its selection here (although the entire Renny Harlin oeuvre is sadly glossed over - what, no Long Kiss Goodnight? But it has Geena Davis in a platinum blonde fright wig and too much eyeliner!).

The rundown:

1. Die Hard. No suprise here.

2. Aliens. Better than the original, and by a significant margin (particularly the director's cut, which isn't quite so anxious to get to the good stuff). I'd consider it more sci-fi than action, but it's got plenty of shooting and slimy special effects, so why not.

3. Raiders of the Lost Ark. I have a theory as to why adventure movies are so perenially popular - namely, the best ones simply lift off and take you on a ride. You can't not enjoy yourself. Raiders piques our interest from the word go, sets up its premise with minimal fuss, and effortlessly entertains us for an entire two hours, moving like a roller coaster through thrills, chills and spills. That said, do people really consider this an action movie? It's rated PG, for crying out loud. Come on, we have standards to maintain.

4. The Road Warrior. This is the second one, right? Still haven't seen it, but it's on my list.

5. The Matrix. You know, so much of the action in this movie feels like cheating. Everything is CGI-heavy, smooth, crisp, not a speck of blood or strand of hair out of place. The lobby shootout scene is cool in that 1999 let's-show-off-the-DVD-player sort of way, but I prefer my action to look like it was done in the midst of real peril. Bruce Willis looked like he'd been through World War II after an hour. Keanu Reeves just looks bored.

6. Seven Samurai. Pretty much the blueprint for modern day action movies, particularly heist flicks. It's still entertaining, and the photography is still breathtaking.

7. Gladiator. No, I am not entertained. Gladiator is more boring than a dog's ass. I hated it when it won Best Picture and I hate it now. Not even Russell Crowe's pecs can save it, and that's saying something.

8. Saving Private Ryan. I've only seen the first 15 minutes, but the cheeseball graveyard scene at the beginning of the movie pretty much turned me off from watching the whole thing. Oy, Spielberg. He'd be the world's greatest director if he didn't go for the easy sentiment every 20 minutes.

9. Hard-Boiled. Haven't seen it, on my list.

10. Terminator 2: Judgment Day. You know, this movie is some seriously downer shit. Kid lives with foster parents because his mom is in the loony bin, Mom lives with nightmares that a cyborg from the future is trying to kill her, cyborg comes back to protect the kid, they all go off on a road trip to kill the guy that created the cyborg in the first place, and then the cyborg kills itself anyway as the kid wails in despair over losing his friend. I mean, the first movie wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs either, but yeesh. I think Linda Hamilton smiles exactly once in the whole thing. On the plus side, great effects. They did this stuff in 1991, y'all. It still boggles the mind.

11. Speed. I've always found this one a little overrated, but it's fun. Good pacing, sharp dialogue, and Keanu comes as close to genuine acting as he's ever been.

12. The Empire Strikes Back. A New Hope just seems so flat compared to Empire, doesn't it? It's as if early test audiences for the first movie were all, "More of everything!" And Lucas was all, "Sure, okay." And then he released the best sequel in the history of sequels. Shit like that doesn't happen anymore.

13. The Wild Bunch. Another one on my list.

14. RoboCop. Hee. Anyone remember the RoboCop vs. Terminator Game Boy game? Just me? Alright, then. Haven't seen the movie in years, but #14 seems a bit high.

15. Enter the Dragon. I have no interest in Bruce Lee movies, but I suppose I should see this.

16. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Ah yes, the movie that should have won Best Picture over Crapiator. (Shut up, I'm tired.) Wonderfully acted, directed, and staged. Calling it an action movie almost feels like missing the point.

17. The Bourne Supremacy. I didn't see this one - I was a bit underwhelmed by the first. But EW makes it sound pretty good, so it's on my list.

18. The Adventures of Robin Hood. The 1938 version. Interesting choice.

19. Goldfinger. Certainly the best of the early Bond films - great set pieces, killer dialogue, fun all the way through.

20. Kill Bill - Vol. 1. Still one of my favorites. Unlike Grindhouse, which tried too hard, this is an actual grindhouse-style movie - it's trash, but in a good way. Every scene is charged with energy, the intangible kind that comes from a filmmaker bursting at the seams with enthusiasm for his craft. Tarantino loves movies, he clearly loves toying with his audience, and he loves telling a story - which this movie does, arguably better than any of his previous films. Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs felt too enamored with their own cleverness; Jackie Brown was too rote and by-the-book (literally). There's something more honest, more refreshingly urgent about Kill Bill - it's a tongue-in-cheek popcorn movie played dead serious by all involved, which makes it more dramatically involving than it has any right to be. That said, Vol. 2 really makes the whole enterprise work, while Vol. 1 is mostly just action - but very, very good action.

21. Spider-Man 2. Speaking of unwelcome CGI. I'm sorry, I can't take a superhero who moves around like Gumby seriously. And Alfred Molina with the mechanical octopus arms...ay yi yi. They should have just given the whole movie to Pixar. The script is ridiculous, too - there's a line between enjoyably corny and plain stupid, and this movie crosses it one time too many. Plus, Kirsten Dunst. Please make her go away.

22. Predator. Another one I haven't seen. I hear it's okay.

23. Drunken Master II. See above.

24. Lethal Weapon. Ah, Mel Gibson before he went crazy. "I'm too old for this shit" before it became a worn-out catchphrase. Buddy-cop flicks before they became stupid as a rule.

25. The Incredibles. This list is far too family-friendly. Good movie, though, and I like how Pixar stretched a bit with the more mature themes and more intense action. And they still have the best voice casting directors in the industry.

So does anyone actually want to see Live Free or Die Hard, other than for the camp value?

Okay, so I just wanted an excuse to take a picture of this admittedly very pretty drink. The Tequila Sunrise is fun to revisit now and again. It's old school. It's refreshing, particularly on a 91-degree June day (ay, dios mio). And it hearkens back to a time when vodka hadn't taken over the entire mixed-drink stratosphere, allowing party-hearty Californians (or Floridians, depending on which fuzzy origin story you choose to believe) to partake in a tequila drink that didn't involve lime or salt of any kind.

I suppose the correct garnish for one of these is a slice of orange, but no dice here. I use canned OJ, and I didn't have any fresh oranges on hand. (When I'm feeling flush, I buy Tropicana. Does that count?) But in this kind of weather, after a few sips you probably won't care. It's cold and in a tall glass - what more do you want?

(An aside: I decided to try Sauza Silver tequila at a whopping $32.05 Canadian per fifth [the LCBO's tequila selection is way overpriced, and ludicrously small at that] instead of my usual Olmeca Gold. I haven't yet tried the Sauza in a Margarita, but for now I can say that Olmeca seems to work better in a Sunrise. The flavor is more mellow and mixes better with the orange juice. Anyway, Sauza isn't worth the extra three dollars, IMO. But I digress.)

Tequila Sunrise
2 oz tequila (Sauza Silver)
orange juice (fresh if you care, canned if you're lazy)
splash of grenadine

Add tequila to an ice-filled highball glass. Top with orange juice. Pour grenadine quickly down the center of the drink, so that it hits the bottom and then floats up to make the gradient effect. Try to use clear glasses instead of the dark purplish tinted ones I did, particularly if you're going to be taking pictures. For a blog, say.



This drink reminds me that I want to try making my own grenadine some time, since the commercial stuff is hella sweet and tastes nothing remotely like pomegranate.

One of my early goals when I first entered the world of cocktail mixage was to eventually tackle my fear (or rather, apprehension) of gin. I like the smell of gin, and I appreciate its unique qualities when I taste it by itself. But whenever I make a cocktail with it, I almost always find I'd rather be drinking something else. Perhaps my palate just hasn't become accustomed to it yet, perhaps the Tom Collins really is just a lame drink. All I know is that my experiment with a Gin & Tonic ended up tasting like bile in a glass, and my mixing glass broke when I tried making a Gin Fizz. A sign from above, perhaps? Fine. I'll stick to rum.

Which is where the Cable Car comes in! I ordered some new bar equipment online recently, including a new mixing glass, a proper jigger (up until now I've used a souvenir shot glass from the Luxor in Vegas), a bar spoon, and most importantly, a channel knife. It's horrifically awesome. I can now cut twists like the pros.

The Cable Car didn't work out quite like I expected. The base recipe calls for two ounces of Captain Morgan's spiced rum, one ounce of Cointreau, and a half ounce of lemon juice. For some reason, all I taste is the lemon. I find Captain Morgan underwhelming in general - not enough spice, and a slightly bitter aftertaste - but in a cocktail like this it really gets taken over by the other ingredients. I may have to adjust the proportions next time. That said, the cinammon-sugar rim is cute, and look! A garnish! I'm playing with the big boys now.

Cable Car
2 oz spiced rum (Captain Morgan)
1 oz Cointreau
1/2 oz fresh lemon juice

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass rimmed with cinammon sugar. Garnish with a lemon twist.


Now all I need is a better camera. The Digital Rebel is calling my name...

Oh my God, you guys. They're still here.

Weren't we done with the entire inexplicable Crocs phenomenon last summer? Why are these things still being worn? What is the appeal, for the love of crimony? First of all, even flip-flops are more attractive. Secondly, they don't even give your feet much air. Third, they're plastic, so there is literally no breathing capability whatsoever. And people say these things are comfortable?

"But you can put little Jibbitz in the holes!" What are you, five?

Oh hell, might as well go whole hog. I decided a while back that I'd try making some authentic Margaritas this summer, lots of them, and so far they've been a big hit. Everyone seems to love them, once they get past the "Don't you need a blender?" mindset. It's remarkable to me how much the frozen Margarita has so thoroughly implanted itself in the mainstream consciousness, including mine own up until this point. And with that, a little history.

I lived in Houston, Texas for two years, from the summer of 1998 to the summer of 2000. Ludicrous heat, remarkably vast expanses of desert between the big cities, and wonderful dining opportunities on the whole. And one item that thoroughly permeates the food and drink culture down there is the Margarita. The Margarita is the unofficial state drink of Texas, whether it's been formally recognized as such or not. Margaritas are everywhere, in every bar, restaurant, and backyard party. And they almost always come frozen, with salt, and rarely at more than $2 a pop. But given my recent foray into more proper, "classic" cocktail preparation, I was interested in trying the real deal, the three-ingredient original that got this whole thing started.

There's something about the flavor of a classic Margarita that just clicks for me. The two main taste components are the tequila and the lime, and any recipe that claims you can substitute lemon for the lime is not one that should to be in your collection. Lemon does not belong in a Margarita. Yes, I know the Spanish limón can denote both lime and lemon, but I don't care. It's wrong. I'm hardcore about this, people. Make a drink with lemon, tequila, and triple sec, use a salted rim if you want, but don't call it a Margarita, because it's not. Okay? Okay.

Now, the other ingredients. I've come across a lot of Margarita recipes that seem clearly designed to mask the taste of the tequila, going so far as to call for a mere ounce and a half of the beast. These people must be using Cuervo Gold or some other terrible shit, because an ounce and a half just doesn't work in a good Margarita - there's simply too much lime and triple sec to compete with. The tequila should stand up and make itself known - not in an imposing way, but as a clear flavor component in the cocktail. The other major component is, of course, the lime, and this is where you should let your tastebuds guide you. I don't recommend going under 3/4 of an ounce; I use Persian limes, the typical supermarket kind. If you use Key limes (which I plan to hunt down and horde as soon as I find some), do a few taste tests and see what works for you.

And then there's the triple sec, by which I mean Cointreau - I always mean Cointreau. You should only ever use Cointreau, unless you're making a huge bunch of these for a party and don't feel like splurging on an admittedly expensive liqueur, in which case I recommend Marie Brizard's triple sec - cloying and sweet, but the lesser of all the other evils out there. You can also use Grand Marnier if you're feeling flush, but let's draw the line somewhere. Cointreau is your friend. Accept the way of the Cointreau; you'll likely never go back. But keep in mind that the Cointreau in a Margarita should be a mere background component - too much and it'll compete with the lime, turning the drink into a citrus overload. So this is where I add a dash of simple syrup, to further tone down the lime without resorting to more Cointreau. Around half an ounce of syrup works for me, but it depends on how tart your limes are.

If this all sounds terribly anal retentive and pedantic, it is. Other people get worked up about the proper components and proportions of a classic Martini - I get het up when my Margarita doesn't taste right. It really is one of those drinks where measurements are crucial. And this is where I urge you to experiment - try the recipe below, and if it doesn't work, adjust. One of my biggest apprehensions when I first dove into amateur mixology was deviating from the recipe, afraid that what poured out of my shaker would be a disaster. Don't do this. Get a feel for the drink, become familiar with the ingredients, and keep trying different combinations until you find the one that makes you smack your lips and go, "Aha!"

Margarita
2 oz gold tequila
3/4 oz fresh lime juice
1/2 oz Cointreau
1/2 oz simple syrup, or to taste

Shake well with ice and strain into a chilled, salt-rimmed cocktail glass, or into a salt-rimmed rocks glass with a few cubes. (I rim half the glass in case the drinker doesn't like salt.)



Es bueno. Es muy bueno.

[Edit on 6/6/2008: I know I said that lemons don't belong in a proper Margarita, and I stick by that. But if you ever find yourself with a serious Margarita hankering and no limes to be found in your kitchen, but plenty of about-to-go-off lemons in the fridge, substitute a full ounce of lemon juice for the 3/4 ounce of the lime. You'll end up with something that falls a tad short of true Margarita greatness, but satisfies much of the same urges.]

Well, it was either this or the Margarita - I'm on a sour cocktail kick right now, mostly due to the ungodly climate change that has only just begun to rear its head in my neck of the woods. Every time I come home and fling my sweat-soaked self through the front door into my blessed air-conditioned haven, I crave something tall, cold, sour, or all of the above. Which I then pour and take into the backyard, where I sit and sweat some more. Because it's a nice day, goddammit, and I refuse to miss out on all that sunlight after spending some six long months in the bitter, miserable, grey-skied cold this year. Gather ye rosebuds, and all that.

Anyway. I only have a pic of a Daiquiri on my computer at the moment, although I've been making some attractive on-the-rocks Margaritas lately, with sea salt rims and everything. But the Daiquiri is equally refreshing and easy to make, and when properly prepared can speak volumes about how a great cocktail transcends the sum of its parts. The Daiquiri contains a mere three ingredients - rum, simple syrup, and lime juice. But when they're combined, something magical is born. The lime tones down the alcohol burn from the rum, letting the more subtle flavors of the spirit open up and make themselves known. The sugar balances the lime and makes the whole thing go down smoother, as well as working in tandem with the molasses and chocolate notes from the rum to create a nice rounded taste. The whole thing is served ice-cold and in a pretty glass. And suddenly you understand why Hemingway was such a big drinker.

Anyway, here it is. No strawberries, bananas, crushed ice, parasols, or blenders in sight. It's my #2 summer drink next to the Mojito. Get those shakers ready.

[Edit: I used Bacardi for the Daiquiri below, but I made one with Havana Club recently and it was fantastic. Pick up a bottle on your next trip to Canada, American readers.]

Daiquiri
2 oz white rum (Bacardi)
1 oz fresh lime juice
1/2 oz simple syrup, or to taste

Shake like hell with plenty of ice. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass, garnish with a lime wedge.


I just realized that none of my drink pics on this blog have garnishes of any kind. At all. I usually don't bother with the garnish when I make a cocktail for myself, and nine times out of ten I feel the drink looks just fine without one. But I suppose I should bust out the zester if I'm taking pics. Garnishes to come, I promise.

Because when you record a song as good as "Umbrella", it doesn't matter.

The song does all the work for you. It comes on, it blasts out of the speakers like nothing else on the radio right now, it demands you turn the volume knob far past the 3/4 point it's usually set at for childish things like Fergie and Maroon 5, it rattles your bones with a pounding drum beat and a synth that screams bloody murder for four minutes, it lays the guitar on thick during the pre-chorus, chorus, and brief post-chorus opportunity to catch your breath. And somewhere in between, a little girl sings sweet nothings about staying with her lover until the end and protecting him from harm. Oh, and Jay-Z raps about hydroplaning and his record label.

Sure, Rihanna's voice is thin. Sure, her stage presence roughly equates to that of Beyoncé nursing a hangover. Sure, she likely hasn't written a note of music in her life. But you need to take pleasure where you can get it in this world, and right now nothing pleases me more than seeing an R&B songstress formerly distinguishable only by her Barbadian accent suddenly up and rock out like she's been a regular at the House of Blues for years. And make no mistake, "Umbrella" is rock. Mechanical, tightly constructed, slightly overpolished rock, but rock nonetheless. Hell, half of the rock bands out there could be described the same way. Whatever you want to call it, it's genius, and it's the best song I've heard all year. Rihanna cares not what you think of her limitations - she's doing her thing. Props, shorty.

Every once in a while, YouTube will cough up something that makes me realize why I love the Internet. Today, it's this.

The best part is the music. And the leg warmers.