Today on Drinking Diaries, we’ve chosen to reproduce this helpful infographic, courtesy of Military Pathways. Military Pathways provides free, anonymous mental health and alcohol self-assessments for family members and service personnel in all branches of the military, including the National Guard and Reserve. The self-assessments are a series of questions that, when linked together, help create a picture of how an individual is feeling and whether they could benefit from talking to a health professional. The primary goals of the program are to reduce stigma, raise awareness about mental health, and connect those in need to available resources. The self-assessments address depression, posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), generalized anxiety disorder, alcohol use and bipolar disorder. 

 The Infographic below covers useful information on alcohol abuse; including alcoholism symptoms, binge drinking, military alcohol abuse, youth drinking and more.  
Click image to enlargeSource: Military Mental Health

by Nancy Kelly

Last night it was rainy, dark, and windy…the perfect time to get out of my wet clothes and into a dry martini, as Robert Benchley classically observed. Since I was in my mid-twenties, after spending the teething phase of my drinking life dabbling in frozen margaritas, strawberry daiquiris, and fuzzy navels, my libation of choice has been the gin martini…very dry, very cold, with olives. Up or on the rocks, I confess does not matter to me.

The martini is at once stand-offish and seductive. Nothing to my mind better signifies grown-up cool than the iconic stemmed glass, with its crystal-clear liquid and single maiden olive pierced by a well-honed pick. No other beverage beguiles you into gazing across the table as you sip, head cast down as if you were reading the juniper berries, half-lidded eyes turned up, at your drinking partner. Faster than sound across water, a message sent martini-mail reaches its mark before you set down the cocktail glass.

For a good many of the years I’ve been sipping, the gin martini was considered a fusty relic of a bygone time, especially by my generation. First the Chablis and chardonnay crowds spurned it; then the single-malt snobs ignored it, and of course the red-wine health nuts regarded it with morally superior contempt. But then it got discovered by hip twenty- and thirty-something’s. Maybe Mad Men revived it. Maybe the Absolut (vile stuff) marketing campaign had something to do with it. I don’t know, and I don’t care.

What I do care about though is that all of a sudden my elegant, high-toned, high-test cocktail starting arriving in birdbath-sized glasses. I suppose to justify the $15-plus price tags the bars began charging, but, really, who needs a six-ounce martini? It won’t stay cold, unless you chug it. It won’t retain that slam, bang, tang that made Sinatra and others believers. No, what it will do is get your 50+-year metabolism drunk… fast. Which isn’t the point. A martini should insinuate itself into your faculties…loosening your judgment and your standards maybe just a little, putting you at the brink of misbehavior but letting you stay in charge. One more thing:  A “very dry martini” is not code for “skip the vermouth.” That drop or two (at most) is essential to the chemistry of the elixir. Without it, you’ve got a drink but you don’t have a martini. Downing a big gulp of gin is not part of martini culture.

And while I’m on the subject, neither is calling any vile concoction you care to dream up a “martini” just because you have poured the stuff into a defenseless cocktail glass. My idea of being outré with a martini is substituting a pickled onion for the olive, and I have the decency and sufficient respect for the mother of all cocktails to call this drink what it is: A Gibson. But instead we find chocolate martinis. Sour apple martinis. Mango martinis. There’s even some ghastly creation called the “breakfast martini” that requires the addition of orange marmalade. If I want breakfast, I’ll have Cheerios; if I want a martini, I’ll wait till 5 p.m. and then have gin and a whisper of vermouth…hold the fruit, all of it.

And then there are the gin snobs. Oh, for the days when Beefeater reigned supreme. Now in addition to the tasty but potent Tanqueray, there’s Tanqueray Ten (premium priced, of course, but not discernibly different from the regular) and Tanqueray Rangpur, flavored with exotic limes (and quite serviceable in a Gimlet, but that’s it), Bombay Sapphire (a higher proof and price) competes with its poor sister in the green bottle, and the liquor shelves are choked with all manner of small-batch, premium-priced infusions, each competing for the discerning drinker’s palate. Don’t get me started on the bubble-gum and whipped-cream flavored vodkas.  Give me plain old Gordon’s any day. Just try ordering Gordon’s in a swanky bar or restaurant and watch the smirks and assurances that “we don’t serve that” begin. Truth is, I used to be a Tanqueray girl, but as I got older I found I didn’t need the extra proof, so clean, crisp Gordon’s does me just fine.

All of this is my longwinded way of saying I can hardly wait for the martini craze to end and for things to get back to normal…me and the ghosts of Nick, Nora, and Mame bellied up to the bar, Dave McKenna at the piano.

Nancy Kelly likes to look at life through the lens of spinsterhood, meaning she proudly asks that people call her “Miss.” She’s lived her entire life without the safety net (financial or social) of a spouse or partner, and at 58, wants folks to know she’s made it…really and truly, “her” way.

In England, in 2008, the Department of Health identified different personality types of heavy drinkers. While they used English men and women as the model, some of their descriptions hold true no matter what culture you live in, and whether you drink a little or a lot.

Here are some of their drinking types, and their characteristics. To their descriptions, I’ve added my own woman-centric identifiers.

De-Stress Drinkers: Use alcohol to calm down and regain control of life. This category includes all the “Moms Who Need Wine” types, who chill out while they’re cooking dinner for the family by drinking a glass of wine. It also includes anyone who can’t wait to hit the bar after work, for example; anyone for whom alcohol is the “ahh” at the end of a hard day.

Conformist Drinkers: Driven by the need to belong. Seek structure for their lives. These are the “I’ll have what she’s having” types, who don’t really have a favorite drink. If you order a margarita, they’ll order a margarita. If you order a gin and tonic, so will they. This includes book club drinkers, sorority girls, and anyone who drinks because, what the hell, everyone else is doing it!

Boredom Drinkers: Drink to pass the time, seeking stimulation to relieve boredom. Secretly wonder: Does drinking count as a hobby?

Depressed Drinkers: Crave comfort, safety and security. These drinkers tend to drink alone, at home, or else out at a bar, telling their tales of woe to the bartender. They drink because they’re depressed, which in turn makes them even more depressed.

Re-Bonding Drinkers: Driven by the need to keep in touch with people who are close to them. Drinking loosens them up, and lets them pour out their hearts to their friends and lovers. This is the woman who regularly goes out with one or two people at a time and bonds over a few glasses of wine.

Community Drinkers: Like conformist drinkers, they are motivated by the need to belong, but they usually drink in large groups. These women are extraverts, who need to be around people. They love to celebrate, and along with celebration, often comes drinking. They’re motivated more by the social aspect of drinking than by the drinks themselves.

Hedonistic Drinkers: Crave stimulation and seek to abandon control or “let go.”  These are the women knocking back shots of tequila and pumping their fists in the air afterwards.

Macho Drinkers: Spend most of their spare time in bars. These are the barflies, who pride themselves on being tough. They often excel at pool, darts and pinball, and will go shot to shot with anyone who challenges them. They have high tolerance, or they barely drink at all, but just look like they do.

I’d have to say that I’m probably a de-stress drinker, since drinking a glass of wine always seems like a mini-vacation to me, akin to taking a bubble bath or reading women’s magazines in bed. But at different points in my life, I’ve been all of these drinkers.

My drinking personality depends on my mood, and what age and stage of life I’m in. So what is (or was) your predominant drinking personality?

Photo 1 

Each week, we post short interviews with interesting people about their thoughts and feelings on women and drinking. There is such a wide array of perspectives about this topic, and we are excited to gain insight into as many as possible and to share them with you. 

Mary L. Tabor is the author of The Woman Who Never Cooked, which won Mid-List Press’s First Series Award and was published when she was 60. Her short stories have won numerous literary awards. Her memoir (Re)Making Love is a modern real-life love story that has been profiled in Real Simple magazine. She writes a column on the arts, love and creativity for The Communities at The Washington Times. Her experience spans the worlds of journalism, business, education, fiction and memoir writing. She taught creative writing for more than a decade at George Washington University. Her novel Who by Fire will be published this fall. You can find her on twitter and facebook.

Drinking Diaries: How old were you when you had your first drink and what was it?

Mary Tabor: If you can call a thimble full of Mogen David a drink, I would say at seder on Passover. But in truth, I don’t really recall drinking the sweet wine. The baby-sized silver cup that I now own meant more to me and still does. Part of the appeal of alcoholic drinks is the beautiful vessel: the twined blown-glass stems on the set of pastel-colored wine glasses I bought in Venice for my mother on my first trip abroad and that she never used but displayed beautifully in her breakfront.

Even in Italy, I drank Coca-Cola instead of the wine that flows there like water.

What’s your drink of choice? Why?

I began drinking wine in my late thirties when my cooking became more sophisticated and I wanted to understand the pairing of food with wine. My husband and I had dinner at the Henley Park Hotel restaurant near our office, and we had an Italian white wine called Est Est Est, Latin for It is, It is, It is, an inexpensive white wine that was a step up from anything either of us had ever had, non-drinkers that we were.

What about the worst time?

I began to understand the dangers of any pleasure that creates both a high and a low when my husband of 21 years said oh-so-Greta-Garbo “I need to live alone,” and I cratered. Before I began to sort out what had happened in my memoir (Re)Making Love, I drank wine at night after I had finished my teaching and writing and I wept. I looked through the glass, through the wine darkly. In this way, I associate the loss of the dream with too much wine. Alcohol in excess gets in the way of dreaming and dreaming is key to the creative process.

Can you tell us about the best time you ever had drinking?

My husband, who left like a nightmare and returned like an undreamt dream, shared wine and food with me as we began to repair at the end of a four-year separation. I don’t think the name of the wine matters because for me the wine will always be the metaphor of Est Est Est: It is, It is, It is. The wine and food we share together now affirm the family table: That table is, it exists in the face of all the ways that life betrays the living.

Has culture or religion influenced your drinking?

Drinking in college where I saw a lot of folks roll back to the dorm drunk held little interest for me. Because of my Jewish upbringing, sweet wine was a part of the Sabbath and holiday table. So it wasn’t a taboo that drew me. My parents didn’t drink socially. My father would have once a year a single shot of Schenley Crown Royal whiskey, the bottle in a blue velvet bag that remains unforgettable to me. His drink and the velvet bag mean something to be treasured.

Do you have a favorite book, song, or movie about drinking?

Bob Dylan’s “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight.” I do associate wine with romance and safety and I think his lyrics, though edgy, do too.

If you could be any drink, what would it be? Why?

An Apricot Brandy Sour. This isn’t a drink I like much now—I drink no hard liquor—but it is the first hard liquor I ever had. I turned 21 in March of the year I earned my first Master’s Degree. I was away at a school with a dry campus and so I went with a boyfriend off campus for that drink. My father suggested that I order the Sour and I did. My father’s love is entwined with that drink along with his need to protect me and the bond we shared throughout his life—though we didn’t form that bond with drinking. We formed it with talk.

What do you like most about drinking?

The wine and talk that go with good food. All three form a triad built on love. I’ve had to learn the importance of the triad through hard times and good times. The journey has made me believe that the family table formed my beginning and holds me true. When that table includes wine and food and talk, the table’s legs stand on a strong foundation like the family seder where I first encountered wine.

Jeannie Cho Lee, Master of Wine

Just a few decades ago, pouring alcohol for a man in some Asian countries was equivalent to selling your body. In those days, the only way for a woman to have a profession involving wine was to either serve it or sell it. But times have changed, and in 2008, three women, including Jeannie Cho Lee of Hong Kong, were the first in Asia to earn their Masters of Wine.

Lee, born in Korea, is a Harvard graduate and now a prominent wine critic. But when she considered a career  in wine, her father questioned her choice and discouraged her, concerned that her chosen career would be viewed as potentially indecent.

But, said Lee in a recent interview on RelaxNews, there is no longer any lingering bias of Asian women working in wine.

“If my daughters wanted to go in to the wine business, I wouldn’t think negatively about it at all,” she said in advance of the Women and Wines of the World conference in Monaco last month, a show aimed at promoting the role of women in the trade.

It’s a mark of the progress women have made in the industry, particularly in Asia. In the last few years, Lee says there’s been an upswing in wine consumption overall in the region, driven also by women.

“A lot of the women wine drinkers I know in Asia are in their late 30s and 40s, many of whom are successful bankers and lawyers,” she told Relaxnews. “Most I know are professional women with families who hold their own in their fields.”

Meanwhile, a survey of 10,500 women in five countries carried out by Vinexpo last year, found that 16 percent of women from Hong Kong said that being seen sipping a glass of wine “helps their image,” perhaps not surprising given the universal presence of status-making luxury brands in the region.

And since women in countries like Japan and Korea are choosing to delay marriage and childbearing in favor of pursuing a career, women are expected to become a powerful market for the industry given their bigger disposable incomes and purchasing power, Lee points out.

Lee’s website, Asian Palate, offers a wide array of information covering the wine world, including pairings–a challenging feat given the myriad of strong flavors in South East Asian cuisine–travel info, trend news, a newsletter and much more.

In my universe, Thursday night is date night, which usually means having a glass of wine or two with my husband at a restaurant or bar. Often, the mere anticipation of the buzz has me sighing with pleasure throughout the day.

So is it the wine that’s making me feel good, or is it the positive associations I have with the ritual?

According to a new study by researchers at The Miriam Hospital, our expectations can indeed influence our drinking habits. Lori A.J. Scott-Sheldon, Ph.D., the study’s lead author, says, “If you believe alcohol gives you ‘liquid courage’ or that drinking helps you ‘fit in’ or be more social, you’re likely to drink more.”

The researchers aim to reduce college binge drinking by showing students that many of the great things they associate with alcohol are due to their expectations, rather than the alcohol itself.

To this end, they staged social experiments called “alcohol expectancy challenges.” Students were taken in groups to a bar-like setting and given either an alcoholic or a non-alcoholic drink. No one knew which drink anyone else was given. Students then engaged in social activities, such as party games, and were asked to evaluate whether other participants were drinking alcohol versus a placebo. In the majority of cases, groups had difficulty determining who actually received alcohol and who did not.

The challenges have been designated by the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism as one of only three effective alcohol-prevention treatments for college students.

But these findings, published online by the Psychology of Addictive Behaviors, are not only useful for college students. Head researcher Scott-Sheldon   adapted her research for the layperson for The Atlantic Monthly online, and created five do-it-yourself strategies for reducing your drinking and maintaining a healthy relationship with alcohol. Below is my interpretation of her strategies:

1.            Make your own “alcohol expectancy” list.

List the ways you think people feel and behave when they drink alcohol. For me, the list would look like this: 1) Relaxed, 2) Buzzed, 3) Open, 4) Friendly

But what about the negative effects of alcohol use? According to Scott-Sheldon, many people focus on the positive effects of drinking alcohol and “fail to consider the negative effects.” Oh yeah—I forgot about the way alcohol can make people (read: me) sleepy, angry, even belligerent

2.           Get clear about the real effects of alcohol.

Ask yourself: How does drinking really make you feel? Try to get past that first glass, and envision yourself as the night progresses.

When I drink one glass, I feel great—buzzed, relaxed, open. Two? I start to get sleepy.  Three: I start to feel fuzzy around the edges.

3.           Take stock of your alcohol education: how did you learn about alcohol’s “positive effects”?

Think about your parents’ beliefs about alcohol. Did they model drinking to relax after work? Total abstinence? In my house, there was no middle ground. It was either all (when my mother was drinking alcoholically) or nothing (afterwards, when both she and my father stopped drinking or bringing alcohol into the house).

What about your friends? Did they look at alcohol as something to be feared? Or something they couldn’t wait to try?

And what about alcohol advertisements: beer & liquor ads, where models are shown having fun. How’d they make you feel?

4.           Enjoy celebrations without drinking any alcohol.

Weddings, parties, and family gatherings can be a high, without the alcohol. Experiment with going to celebrations and not drinking. The Miriam Hospital research showed that students who were given placebos (non-alcoholic drinks that they thought might be alcoholic) enjoyed the social events just as much as the students who were given alcohol.

Heavy or binge drinking is often associated with partying and other social events. But, as Scott-Sheldon reminds us, “It isn’t only the alcohol that causes the euphoria — it’s also the positive expectancies triggered by the social setting.”

5.           Set Drinking Limits Before You Attend Social Events.

If you really want to drink, be realistic about how much you can drink before your enjoyment starts diminishing. To get that “partying” feeling without going overboard, you can always alternate alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages. Use the buddy system so you and a friend can hold each other accountable.

Photo Source

Each week, we post short interviews with interesting people about their thoughts and feelings on women and drinking. There is such a wide array of perspectives about this topic, and we are excited to gain insight into as many as possible and to share them with you. 

Jessie Rosen is writer/performer best known for her blog 20-Nothings.com, an account of getting by from 2-0 to 3-0 with minimal wind resistance. Rosen is pursuing television and film writing as well as producing branded content. She is also the host of a monthly, girls-only storytelling series called SUNDAY NIGHT SEX TALKS. Rosen currently resides in Los Angeles with her boyfriend and their impressive collection of succulent plants.

Drinking Diaries: How old were you when you had your first drink and what was it?

Jessie Rosen: I was a sophomore in high school when I had my first drink and it was…wait for it…a Mike’s Hard Lemonade. In my defense, I am from New Jersey, and this first drink was consumed at a post-prom party, so I feel it’s appropriately lame. 



How do you approach alcohol in your every day life?

Now that I’m in my late 20s I view alcohol as a drink I enjoy for taste as well as pleasure. For example, I enjoy a nice glass of wine over dinner at home because of how it compliments a meal, but I also enjoy two or three cocktails out at a bar with friends because of how it compliments the fun of the activity/my mood.

Have you ever had a phase in your life when you drank more or less?

I absolutely drank more than I do now, and more than I ever should have in college. It was a huge part of the social scene at my school, and so I participated willingly along with the rest of my peers. Post college I only kept that level of drinking up for a few years owing to cost and lifestyle. I now drink considerably less because A) I live in Los Angeles where driving is a huge consideration, and B) My body just can’t handle the amount of alcohol that it once did…thank God.

What’s your drink of choice? Why?

This is tough because I enjoy different tastes at different times, but if I can only have one drink at a bar it’s usually an extra dirty martini, up, with vodka. I love the taste, but I also like that it’s a “slow sip” beverage. One drink will last me a long time, so I’ll drink less overall.

 Can you tell us about the best time you ever had drinking?

Oof–that’s a tough question. There are so many fun times from college, but I do think the best would have to be the time my friends and I organized an event called LIQUOR TREAT on Halloween night. Each apartment/dorm was responsible for serving one kind of shot, and we traveled around campus dressed up in our Halloween costumes visiting each room to take their specialty shot as a massive group. Then one room interpreted “shot” as “shot gun,” and made us shot gun a beer. My roommates and I went as the ice princesses from the 1997 Olympics: Nancy Kerrigan, Tonya Harding, etc. I was Surya Bonaly because I love neon and the idea of a one-footed back flip on ice.

 What about the worst time?

The worst time would have to be my 21st birthday. Typical, I know. I was working at a bar on the Jersey Shore at the time, so when I walked in at the stroke of midnight, the bartenders and waitresses went wild, serving me so…many…shots… I don’t even remember being drunk. I just went from sober to sprawled out on the bathroom floor. Thanks to the help of loving friends, I was safe and sound.

Has drinking ever affected—either negatively or positively—a relationship of yours?

I’m lucky to be able to say that it hasn’t, but I know many many people who have been through volatile relationships because of alcohol. I will say this, though. Despite the fact that I’ve been safe, there are certain decisions I would not have made if I hadn’t been drunk. Luckily those things never resulted in harm, but they just as easily could have. When I talk to my younger sisters about drinking I try to remind them that moderation is important, as is safety in numbers.

Why do, or don’t you, choose to drink?

I now do or don’t choose to drink based on lots of reasons: do I feel like being drunk? Do I want to spend the money? Is it worth the calories (sad but so true!). Because drinking is not as much of a social “must” as a 28-year-old, I can pick and choose based on any whim I’m feeling. Most likely these days it has to do with what else I have going on that day or the following morning. Do I want to be my absolute most fresh, or can I kick back and have a few drinks?

If you could be any drink, what would it be? Why?

I think I’d be a jello shot because people are always so excited to see those at a party. Not the lime green ones though. Those are gross tasting and remind me of Notre Dame, my arch rivals

We all have all our moments/hours/days (years?) of feeling angry. Recently, I’ve made an effort to raise my irritation threshold, and have worked hard to not let a hard day or stressful event surrounding work, family, dogs, etc.–be an excuse for pouring myself a glass of wine. Sometimes it works, and I may take a walk to clear my head or venture to a quiet corner, close my eyes and meditate for 15 minutes or until the anger passes. But on the odd occasion, I’ll succumb to the booze instead, which after only a few sips has a way of taking the edge off ever so gently, burying the anger for a short period of time.

Research has proven a strong association between anger and drinking, and now, a recent study conducted by psychologists at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington, shows that anger and alcohol mix a little too easily for many women.

During the study, a group of 30 women were split into two groups. Researchers purposely irritated one of the groups by asking them to complete impossible puzzles while mocking them for their incompetence. Afterward, the women were asked to sample different kinds of ginger ale and beer in what they thought was an unrelated taste test. The results? The women who’d been angered drank nearly twice as much beer than their unruffled counterparts. Hmmmm. Wouldn’t you?

“Women are less likely than men to express their anger assertively, and suppressing that irritation results in built-up tension,” explains study author Nora Noel, PhD, a professor of psychology at the University of North Carolina. “Many women (and men) view alcohol as a way to help relieve that tension.” The problem is that turning to alcohol instead of finding healthy ways to express yourself doesn’t end well for anyone.

So what to do about it? Identifying that you have a tendency to drink when you’re pissed off is the first step, according to Dr. Noel. The next step is learning healthier ways to control your anger—or release it—to help curb a desire to turn to liquid ways of coping.

While meditation has been helpful for me, other ways to stave off the anger without reaching for the bottle are exercise, writing, and talking to a friend. “Expressing anger assertively means speaking up for yourself and letting others know when you’re uncomfortable,” says Dr. Noel. Venting to a friend is a proven way to help lower your levels of anger-fueled tension, she says.

photo source

Have you ever wondered whether other people are judging or evaluating you based on what you drink? Well, they are. Especially bartenders. On her blog, “Are You Wearing My Pants?” one bartender puts it bluntly: “When you order a drink, I judge you.” Sometimes I feel like the bartender knows what I’m going to order before I even order it. 40-something mom? Check. A little tentative around the eyes? Wine.

Who Hillary Clinton truly is: A drinker of hard liquor

So what does the fact that I’ve ordered the same basic thing (in summer and spring, a glass of white wine; in winter and fall, a glass of red) for years, any time I go to a bar, say about me? P.S. I’m also the person who ordered the same flavor of ice cream all through childhood, any time I walked into a Baskin and Robbins (mint chip). My own informal and completely unscientific interpretation says it means I’m risk averse, drawn to comfort and routine, and I’m a homebody. All true.

So what do others think? Here’s a snippet from “Are You Wearing My Pants?” (the bartender’s blog mentioned above)—“a list of common personality traits and characteristics” based on drink orders:

“Stella: You are foreign…or are trying to appear to be.

Vodka Cran: You don’t know what you want in life, or at this bar.

Gin & Tonic: $$$

Red Bull & Vodka: You are an asshole.

Pinot Grigio: You are approaching menopause faster than you think.

Who Hillary Clinton is trying to be: A laid-back beer drinker

Vodka Martini: You had a serious day at work, or you are a functional alcoholic.”

The writers at coed magazine have their own take. Mind you, the magazine is targeted to college age kids, but their assessments are kind of fun, and I think they apply to any age drinker.

“If you’re a wine drinker, you’re very social, but prefer to go to parties where you can actually talk to the person next to you.”

And if you like domestic light beer? “You like to yell. You like to yell in groups…The light beer drinker is the beer game champion. You are always up for a game of beer pong…Your life revolves around quantity. Who cares if it tastes like watered down piss because you could drink a million of them.  If you like regular domestic beer, “you used to be an athlete.”

Is vodka your drink of choice? Then you’re versatile, and drink according to the time of day and your moods.

Do you gravitate to Bloody Marys? Then, sadly, according to coed magazine, “You are a true alcoholic who knows the number one rule of alcoholism. You need to bite the hair of the dog that bit you. There isn’t a time of day that you wouldn’t rather be drinking.”

Rum Straight? “You’ve never had rum, or you’re a pirate.”

What kinds of personalities do you associate with different drinks? Did you ever order a drink  you didn’t want just to enhance your image? We’d love to hear from you in the comments section below.

Each week, we post short interviews with interesting people about their thoughts and feelings on women and drinking. There is such a wide array of perspectives about this topic, and we are excited to gain insight into as many as possible and to share them with you. 

Liesl Schillinger is a culture writer and translator based in New York. She grew up in Midwestern college towns, studied comparative literature at Yale, and worked for many years at The New Yorker magazine.  She is a regular critic for The New York Times Book Review, and writes for numerous other publications.  Her translation of the novel “Every Day, Every Hour,” by Natasa Dragnic, comes out in May (Viking).

Since 2009, she has published the neologisms blog “Wordbirds,” which appears on her tumblr and on The Faster Times.

Drinking Diaries: How did/does your family treat drinking?

Liesl Schillinger: My parents entertained a lot as I was growing up, and that’s when I saw drinking happen. Otherwise, we were strictly an ice water or iced-tea-with-dinner family. Wine and beer were for parties or gourmet club dinners. My dad made pitchers of tequila sunrises if they gave a brunch; and for garden parties, my mother would serve wine punch called bowle with fresh peaches, garnished with mint leaves. I remember thinking bowle was incredibly elegant and festive, and admiring my mother for knowing it existed. When I give summer parties, I like to serve bowle or Pimm’s Cup, to keep up that tradition.

How do you approach alcohol in your everyday life?

For me, alcohol is a social pleasure—the signal that I’ve escaped from my desk, my thoughts, and my cats, and am out in the world looking to enjoy human company in as celebratory and interactive a way as possible. I don’t believe in eating dinner out alone, and I don’t believe in drinking alcohol in alone.  I marvel at my friends who pour themselves a glass of wine when they get home from the office. That would scare me.  To me, drinking is something you do to make socializing richer and more entertaining. Actually… lately I joke that, since I quit my day job, 7 years ago, I miss seeing other people without a drink in their hands.

Have you ever had a phase in your life when you drank more or less?

In the ’90s, I lived in Moscow for a few months. It was a very exuberant moment in Russia. Yeltsin was president, there was lots of optimism, a sense of possibility, and there were many, many dance clubs. I worked at a magazine by day, and went out to clubs with my roommate every night until the wee hours. The drinks never stopped flowing. When I returned to New York, I missed the casual revelry of Moscow so much that I threw parties every Tuesday night in my apartment for my friends and their friends for more than a year. I wanted the boisterousness of Moscow to continue here, without anyone having to make extraordinary effort to foregather; or having to pay $60 each for drinks and snacks during a simple, convivial evening out. Everyone brought bottles of wine, and I made sure to keep hard stuff and mixers on hand. Eventually, my downstairs neighbor complained, and I had to desist.  By then, I was secretly a little relieved.

What’s your drink of choice? Why?

A gin and tonic, or any not-oversweet gin cocktail has always been my favorite. It tastes like youth and summer to me.  But gin is awfully strong; and in the past few years, I’ve come to love the fragrant, refreshing taste of unfiltered beers, of Hefeweizen and Weihenstephaner, India Pale Ale, or even a cold little glass of Kölsch.  The bitterness guarantees that I sip slowly, and one tall beer can stretch to outlast my friends’ conversation.

What’s the worst time you’ve had drinking?

It’s kind of a best time, too—but in 2004, a British friend of mine got married on the island of Cyprus, on a hillside that rolled gently down to a beach. There were two days of informal (sort of) celebration before the ceremony, and one day afterwards. We’d all meet for a brunch in the sunshine, which would turn into dinner as the hours lengthened. There were hundreds of guests in their 20s and 30s, all of them dressed in a rainbow of Façonnable-style cottons, wearing suede shoes without socks. I longed to dance with the one who played Jerry Lee Lewis on piano, or the one who was a race car driver, nicknamed “Bad Boy.” But champagne was served all day long, all three days of the wedding– from the moment we padded across the grass for brunch (at which stage it was mixed with orange juice), until late at night. Champagne, sadly, is poison to me—delicious, but poison. I could never remember to stop sipping, and the wait staff continually replenished the glasses.  Every night of that trip, I ended up lurching from the lawn to my room well before 9, unable to join in the dancing. The others were completely immune to the bubbles.  Maybe it’s a European thing.

Do you have a favorite book, song, or movie about drinking? 

I’m smitten by the ‘pink gins’ Graham Greene’s expats drink in the blazing sun in Africa in “The Heart of the Matter,” as astringent solace for their woes. And Hemingway certainly conferred allure on roistering in “The Sun Also Rises.” When I saw the play based on that book, “The Select,” (by Elevator Repair Service) last year, I noticed, through the actors’ unceasing tippling, how very liquid that book was. But I’m most nostalgic about a drinking song that a group called the S.O.B.’s (the Society of Orpheus and Bacchus) would sing en masse, in harmony, when I was in college. As loving cups were passed around, hangers-on like me would join them in singing, “Put a nickel on the drum, save another drunken bum; put a nickel on the drum and he’ll be saved.”  Oh—and the sultriest song I’ve ever heard a woman sing is “Scotch and Soda.”

Why do, or don’t you, choose to drink? 

Drinking to me is a little like a costume that I –and everyone else—puts on, that says, “let’s participate in human theater now.” Social gatherings would be far drabber and flatter without it.

If you could be any drink, what would it be? Why?

The Gin-Gin Mule, at Pegu Club. It’s fresh and fizzy, with a gingery bite. It’s deceptively light, but carries a strong kick…but not so strong that you can’t come back for more. That’s my definition of excellent company. Who wouldn’t want that?

by Marcia DeSanctis

I remember, once, a bourbon phase. With one man, eons gone, it was our drink. He thought I was at my tough and tender best on Maker’s Mark, neat, so I obliged by becoming the person he conjured up. That first swallow burned slowly, like passion should, and each sip wore down the sharp angles of my New England diction like a stream on granite. His many jagged edges were made supple by bourbon, too, and we both enjoyed the transformation into softer version of ourselves. When I saw him – us – through the liquid’s amber lens, everything was bathed in a glow, or at least so I imagined. But it turned out this relationship needed even more artificial lighting than the bourbon could offer, and when he left, I pined not only for him but for me, the girl I was.

One of alcohol’s most beguiling qualities is how it allows us to be shapeshifters, actors taking on complicated roles in the cinematic version of our lives. It can define, or even accessorize a relationship, put the color in it, give it its tagline and make it entirely ours. For anyone who has ever attended alcohol-counseling sessions for or with a loved one, this is precisely what can make it so dangerous, as well.  Rituals around drinking, for problem drinkers, become habits that embed in their circadian rhythms. Even those two glasses of white wine for the mother fixing dinner can make the hour of drudgery seem like aperitifs on the Quai d’Orsay. The transformational aspect of that artifice can make the act of giving it up feel like sacrifice.

A specific drink shared with someone can imbue that relationship with personality, gives it its complexion, its temperament. Of course, marketers have been onto this since the dawn of time, or at least since young men discovered that a certain beer can give you the pluck to approach the ice-queen at a party, or that brandy could make a woman loosen up and unleash whatever was bound-up in her corset. I’m not sure what the shadowy Sandeman figure was doing in those old posters, but it was enough to see that he was cloaked in mystery, a quality which could transfer to those who dared to drink port.

In all things alcohol, I’m fickle. I don’t have a drink. I’m not a vodka and tonic girl, or a red wine sipper. I like everything but prefer nothing, and so many of my friendships have their own signature drink. I have my gin and tonic girlfriend. We love to have one in the summer, at the end of steamy days filled with work, carpooling, gardening, or whatever it is that gives us that particular exhaustion on July evenings. The G & T is the punctuation on those days, as they have always been, on colonial verandas, or on porches overlooking a beach somewhere, when the wicker furniture still retains its warmth from all-day sun. We deserve that drink, we say, as I squeeze an extra lime into mine, listening for our kids safe inside. The gin and tonic makes us nostalgic for these evenings, as if we are already twenty years older and looking back. I always think of my grandfather clinking his glass of Beefeaters and Schweppes on summer evenings way back when. With my friend, the cold cocktail connects me to my past, my future, trips I want to take to Pondicherry, or time I spent on a terrace in Singapore watching the sun lower on the Malaccan Straits. Together, we are mothers and dreamers, allowing ourselves a simple, sacred ritual.

Once, a friend arrived at my house on a fall afternoon with a fifth of Grey Goose in one hand and a bottle of Rose’s Lime juice in the other. That day, our gimlet-soaked collusion was born. Sweet, sticky, sour, the citrusy delight makes us adventurous throwbacks. We sidle back a few decades, would light up a Kent if we even smoked, and our lipstick leaves a smudge on the glass, as if we do it on purpose for someone to moon over the next day. With gimlets, we are girly, and we gossip ruthlessly. We joke about the husbands we love while preparing dinner for them. The Rose’s is the candy, and the vodka shatters it with a hammer. Joined in a glass, our gimlet is tough and sweet, like us. Or at least, how we want to be, then and there, together.

A former colleague and I meet once in a blue moon at a bar in New York. I never know what or whom to expect as time moves on. Would he look older this time? Will he think the same of me? We met in Moscow decades ago, so Stoli was our drink, straight-up with a twist of lemon. Our tradition is as comfortable as old boots and as we raise our glasses, we’ve been known to crack up, as in “Here we are again, with our vodka, and look how many years have passed.” We reminisce about the good old days of Gorbachev, boot rations, and getting our phones tapped by the KGB, but mostly we catch up.  I’m focused and direct on vodka, a real live adult, but it can be sad at these reunions to feel the intimate drama of time passing.  I want him to think I’m tougher than I am, so no midlife drama allowed. Such histrionics wouldn’t represent what we have, or had, in a friendship – two people living parallel lives, raising families, working our tails off, ultimately never changing, or trying our best. Na zdorovye.

I have my champagne friend, too. In my Connecticut kitchen, we are as far as the moon from the grands boulevards, and sometimes, like when tree falls in a storm and cuts off the power on our dirt road, it can be pretty isolating. But I always keep a few good bottles in the basement fridge, and it is our unspoken pact never to drink anything else when we get together. We lift my Baccarat flutes, presents from my wedding in Paris, and though our toast is silent, it is not wordless, since we both are screaming, “We still know how to live.”  

My college roommates and I assemble once a year, usually somewhere warm. Even if it’s chilly we order Planters Punch and some of us can still pack them away like spring-break sophomores. I still have no idea what goes in that drink, but it’s pink and fruity and for the group, transporting. When a round arrives on a tray, with the pineapple and the condensation, it seals the occasion, the annual ceremony of our group – all alive, all healthy, another year later. None of us wishes we were twenty again, but we enjoy being reminded of it. One trip, three of us sat with sand in our flip-flops at the outdoor airport waiting for a puddle jumper. We pounded back one last drink, lifting the glass to the people we were, and still are.

I drink everything with my husband from time to time, which makes sense because any marriage embodies all sorts of friendships. I’m glad that he’s not a martini-man or a micro-brew snob. When we drink alcohol, we both wear disguises. He’s a bit like me, and enjoys letting a drink and the moment define the mood. We’ll share a couple of Coronas out back, when we’re casual, relaxed, with no pressing family business. We’ll pour some red wine on occasion for dinner, very adult-like, and feel like we are running a pretty civilized home. If we go out, we’ll order a Marguerita. It always seems like the festive thing to do, dates being rare and all. I used to wimp out and ditch the salt, but no more, life is brief and Mexico is not getting any closer.

Recently, while out to dinner with him, I thought I might order a finger of bourbon. I always liked the way the dim bar lights pierced the glass with a shot of gold. I gave up the drinks’ languorous charms, because the guy I drank it with found it too easy to resist mine. To hell with him; he was bad news, and it was another lifetime ago. But the person I was, under that caramelized light….well maybe that’s someone my husband ought to know.

Marcia DeSanctis is a journalist and writer whose work has appeared in many publications, including Vogue, Departures, The New York Times Magazine, Recce, Best Women’s Travel Writing 2011, Best Travel Writing 2011 and Town & Country. She is currently working on a memoir about marriage. Formerly, she was a network news producer for ABC, NBC, CBS and Dow Jones. You can visit her at www.marciadesanctis.com.

photo source 1

photo source 2

When I got the email from my kids’ middle school about a presentation called “Why teens shouldn’t drink; and how parents can make a difference,” I sighed, thinking, oh no, not another DARE, Just Say No talk.

It wasn’t.

For the longest time, the speaker, parenting expert Mike Nerney, didn’t even mention the word alcohol. Instead, he talked about the teen brain.

Strip away the emotional charge, the fun, the kids-will-be-kids nostalgia for drinking and you end up with science. Pure science. Oh, how my emo self sometimes loves to hear from the rationalists.

First, Nerney talked about all the work that’s going on in the brain during the teenage years—namely, 200 billion cells are starting to connect. (The teenage brain was also well covered in a recent National Geographic.) He talked about how teen brains lack the balance of adult brains, where we consider all the factors before making a decision. If you ask an adult to set their hair on fire, they’ll immediately synthesize everything into a hell no, whereas a teen will actually consider it (hmm, that might be cool. Are my friends doing it?)

The most striking thing Nerney explained is this: When it comes to alcohol, teen brains and adult brains are worlds apart. We’re not the same in this regard–a good comeback for teens who say, “You drink—why can’t I?” or  “Mom—drinking is BAD.”  It’s obviously a good idea to model moderation for your kids, but you can have your your glass of wine without feeling like a criminal.

When you’re an adult, alcohol gets into the pathways and calms them down, making you feel better.

Alcohol actually excites teen brains. If you’ve ever seen kids pound beers at Spring Break, you’ll understand how much alcohol reenergizes their brains, and gives them a powerful sense of entitlement.

Nerney believes that the drinking age should be 24, because that’s when the body is actually ready to handle alcohol. He cited research by the American Medical Association, and studies at Duke University, in case we wanted scientific proof.

Drinking erodes parts of your brain—the parts that make you smart, such as the prefrontal cortex and the hippocampus. Luckily, the brain is neuroplastic, and once you stop drinking, you can recover those parts that were lost.

The key, Nerney says, is to delay the onset of alcohol use long enough for teens’ brains to develop. If you approach drinking in terms of brain development, rather than a vague lecture that they equate with killing their joy, you might have more success reaching teens.

The other key is to verbalize to your kids that alcohol is dangerous—for their brains, and for their safety. We think they’re not listening, but somewhere deep down inside, they’re actually internalizing our values.

Finally, the best thing we can do for teens, Nerney says, is to offer them thrilling alternatives to alcohol that satisfy their need for risk-taking and novelty.

Skydiving, anyone?

Photo Source

Each week, we post short interviews with interesting people about their thoughts and feelings on women and drinking. There is such a wide array of perspectives about this topic, and we are excited to gain insight into as many as possible and to share them with you. 

Sheila Weller is a bestselling author and award-winning magazine journalist. Her April 2008 book (her sixth), Girls Like Us: Carole King, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon — And The Journey of a Generation was a New York Times Bestseller for eight weeks, and was chosen as one of the Best Books of 2008 by Library Journal, The Christian Science Monitor, Amazon.com, and TheDailyBeast.com. Girls Like Us is in active development as a motion picture with Sony. Weller is a writer for Vanity Fair, has been Senior Contributing Editor of Glamour since 2002, is a former Contributing Editor to New York, and has written and writes for numerous other magazines. She has won a record six Newswomen’s Club of New York Front Page Awards; she was one of three awardees, for her body of work, for Magazine Feature Writing on a Variety of Subjects in the 2005 National Headliners Award; and she won a 2006 Exceptional Merit in Media Award from the National Women’s Political Caucus. She lives in New York City and is married to history writer John Kelly.

Drinking Diaries: How old were you when you had your first drink and what was it?

Sheila Weller: I can’t remember. It was probably beer at an LA Dodgers game. I was in the ’60s generation so we smoked pot and did a bit of psychedelics more than drank.

How did/does your family treat drinking?
Now, here’s the interesting thing and the reason the subject interested me. Family of origin? Nothing relevant there. We owned a nightclub ( a major, glamorous one) but drinking was not an issue. OTHER things were — like infidelity, incest, fratricide, nervous breakdowns, suicide attempts, front page newspaper headline for the above…but I digress. (See my family memoir Dancing at Ciro’s for deets.)

But the interesting thing is: I am a Jewish woman married to an Irish guy, We’ve been together a zillion years. When we met, HE was the drinker. I never in a million years thought of myself as “a drinker.” Then he stopped — cold, cold, cold; never a moment’s regression — when our son was about to be born 30 years ago. Over the last 20 years..slowly….I BECAME the drinker. Ha! Just wine. White wine. But three glasses a day — maybe two, less only if I am trying to lose weight. Drinking white wine, even if only one glass, is something I definitely do every day. Unless I am sick.

How do you approach alcohol in your every day life?
Five o’clock, I can have my glass of wine. My first one, that is. Yes, yes, we all love that saying, “It’s five o’clock SOMEwhere.”

If you have kids, how is the subject of drinking handled? Do you drink in front of them? With them?
My son is an adult. He knows that I have replaced his father as The Drinker in the family. He makes jokes about it and if we all go out to dinner, he KNOWS I am waiting for that first glass of wine. I am a reverse snob about drinking — inexpensive white wine for me. He (my son) tries to do things like send me expensive wine for my birthday. “You don’t GET it, kiddo,” I say to my son. I LIKE the semi-peon wine! It’s part of the macho-ness of it…and part of the budgeting. When I go to his and his wife’s apt. for a dinner, I get with the program and bring a $20 bottle of wine instead of my usual $9.95 one. Just to indulge him.

Have you ever had a phase in your life when you drank more or less?
Before ten years ago: Less. Work has gotten more intense and with it…more relaxing through wine.

What’s your drink of choice? Why?
The above — white wine. Pinot Grigio. I’m a terrible creature of habit. Also, I love the little airplane bottles. I’m like Geena Davis in Thelma & Louise — where they stop at the convenience store in the middle of their crime spree and she buys all those cute girly little bottles of liqour and the liquor store guy says, “Ya want the economy size?” And she says: “NO!” like he’s crazy. I also, after ruining several corkscrews, like wine with twist caps. That, too, is part of the reverse snobbism. Wine that ISN’T properly decanted and is in a twist-top bottle? Yes.

Has culture or religion influenced your drinking?
I’m Jewish. “Jews don’t …really…drink.” So it snuck up on me, my daily wine habit. I can’t be a “drinker.”

Do you have a favorite book, song, or movie about drinking?
Well, I’ll say this. When my husband and I met, our first date was a Tom Waits cabaret show. He said he related to Waits (I distinctly remember him saying, “Waits has a great song – Warm Wine, Cold Women”) and I of course related to Rickie Lee Jones. He meant it — he had just come out of a divorce and was kind of a bit of a mess….a very cute mess. I was faking it. I LOVED Rickie Lee — I wanted to slur my words like she did, singing “Chuck E’s” in Love. But I didn’t.. Now, however, if you catch me after 9 pm, after a stressful day, sometimes, I do…well, maybe just a little bit. Never anything obvious.

Habit: (From Merriam-Webster.com) “a behavior pattern acquired by frequent repetition or physiologic exposure that shows itself in regularity or increased facility of performance”

“an acquired mode of behavior that has become nearly or completely involuntary <got up early from force of habit>”

“addiction <a drug habit>”

Like anything else, drinking can become a habit and move beyond the realm of relaxation and pleasure into something we just do–and something that becomes harder and harder to stop doing.

So how does this happen?

According to New York Times business writer Charles Duhigg, in his fascinating book, The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do In Life And Business, every habit starts with a three-part process—a psychological pattern called a “habit loop.” In drinking terms, it goes like this:

• First, there’s a cue. Let’s say it’s 5:00, Happy Hour Time! Or you’re going to your drinking buddy’s house to hang out. This tells your brain to kick into automatic mode and let a certain behavior unfold…
• The routine, or the behavior itself: the drinking, which gives you a…
• Reward–something your brain likes that helps it remember the “habit loop” next time. In the case of drinking, the reward could be the buzz, or the camaraderie.

Duhigg explains that habit-making behaviors come from a different part of the brain than decision-making behaviors. Habits come from the part of the brain responsible for emotions, memories and patterns. When a behavior becomes automatic, the decision-making part of your brain has to work less and less, and goes into a kind of sleep mode.

So what can we do to change or modify our habits?  (I’m not talking about people who are ankle-deep in their addictions–they probably need detox and rehab.)

My guess would be to start with a disruption of habits. For example, if five o’clock is the cue for Happy Hour, try having five o’clock tea, or going for a five o’clock walk with a friend. If the reward is camaraderie, find another way to get camaradie.

Here’s an interesting quote from Charles Duhigg: “The weird thing about rewards is that we don’t actually know what we’re actually craving.”

If you find yourself mired in habits, it might be best to work backwards and ask yourself, what is it I really want? Not an easy question to answer, but worth it. As Duhigg points out: “What we know from lab studies is that it’s never too late to break a habit. Habits are malleable throughout your entire life. But we also know that the best way to change a habit is to understand its structure — that once you tell people about the cue and the reward and you force them to recognize what those factors are in a behavior, it becomes much, much easier to change.

With regards to Alcoholics Anonymous, Duhigg writes:

“…the reason why AA works is because it essentially is this big machine for changing the habits around alcohol consumption and giving people a new routine, rather than going to a bar or drink. … It doesn’t seem to work if people do it on their own. … At some point, if you’re changing a really deep-seated behavior, you’re going to have a moment of weakness. And at that moment, if you can look across a room and think, ‘Jim’s kind of a moron. I think I’m smarter than Jim. But Jim has been sober for three years. And if Jim can do it, I can definitely do it,’ that’s enormously powerful.”

 Photo Source

Each week, we post short interviews with interesting people about their thoughts and feelings on women and drinking. There is such a wide array of perspectives about this topic, and we are excited to gain insight into as many as possible and to share them with you. 

Susan Elia MacNeal‘s debut novel, Mr. Churchill’s Secretary, was published by Bantam Dell/Random House on April 3, 2012, Winston Churchill Day. The sequel, Princess Elizabeth’s Spy, will be published in the fall of  2012. She is under contract for, and hard at work on, books three and four in the Maggie Hope series. She is also the author of two non-fiction books (including Infused: 100+ Recipes for Infused Liquors and Cocktails), and has written for The Wall Street Journal, the Huffington Post, Time Out New York, and Publishers Weekly. Susan is married and lives with her husband, Noel MacNeal, and young son in Brooklyn.

Drinking Diaries: What did Winston Churchill drink?

Susan Elia: Along with smoking Romero y Julietta cigars, Winston Churchill was known for always having a tumbler of Scotch and water at hand. However, many sources say it was more water than Scotch. His children called it the “Papa Cocktail” and said it was a splash of Johnnie Walker covering the bottom of a tumbler, which was then filled with water and slowly sipped throughout a morning or afternoon. He says (in My Early Life) observation that he learned the Scotch-and-water habit as a young man in India and South Africa where the water was unfit to drink and, “by dint of careful application I learned to like it.” His private secretary and right-hand-man Jock Colville said that Churchill’s “Papa Cocktail” was more like mouthwash than a real drink.

What else did he drink?

What else didn’t he drink? Churchill was known to have a glass of hock (a kind of wine) with breakfast. There was the Scotch and water, as mentioned. He drank different wines with lunch. With dinner, for example, it was not unusual for him to start with a dry Martini (Plymouth gin “with a bow towards France”). And then he would move on to wines with each course, Bordeaux being a favorite, Champagne (preferably Pol Roger), and then finish up with port or brandy. Dinner with Churchill by Cita Stelzer is a fantastic account of, among many other things, his eating and drinking habits.

Do you think he was an alcoholic? 

I’m not an expert of course, nor am I a doctor. However, I will say that most historians don’t consider Winston Churchill to have been an alcoholic. None of his colleagues have ever reported seeing him drunk (and those were the days when everyone kept a diary). He has a number of famous quips about alcohol and moderation, including, “My father taught me to have the utmost contempt for people who get drunk,” that while a glass of Champagne lifts the spirits and sharpens the wits, “a bottle produces the opposite effect,” and, “I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me.”

How do you approach alcohol in your every day life?

I like a glass of wine with dinner, and then a glass of champagne or a cocktail on a special occasion. I’m a working mom and have to get up pretty early in the morning, so I’m pretty careful about drinking.

I wrote a book called Infused: 100+ Recipes for Infused Liqueurs and Cocktails for Chronicle Books in 2006 — I will say that doing research for that was really fun. We’d have a bunch of friends over to taste-test each infusion, and then the cocktails made with it. I only sipped though, because I had to take notes and adjust the recipes.

What’s your drink of choice? Why?

I received The Savoy Cocktail Book by Harry Craddock a few years ago as a gift, and I’ve enjoyed going through and making a lot of the vintage drinks for special occasions. One of my favorites is the Pegu Club, which is 2 ounces of London dry gin, 3/4 ounce orange Curacao, 3/4 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice, 1 dash Angostura bitters, and 1 dash orange bitters. Shake and strain into a cocktail glass. Amazing.

Can you tell us about the best time you ever had drinking?

The best times I’ve had drinking have been at bars with my husband and wonderful friends, where the bartender really knows her or his craft. Some of the best times, and best drinks, I’ve ever had have been at the Clover Club, Fort Defiance, and Death and Company in New York, and Upstairs at Rules, the American Bar at the Savoy, and Milk and Honey in London. Drink, in Boston, is also amazing. When you can be with good friends and sip a drink made with that much knowledge, care and skill, life is good indeed.

Do you have a favorite book, song, or movie about drinking?

I love The Thin Man movies from the 1930s. They’re based on the novel by Dashiell Hammett and are ostensibly about the detective team Nick and Nora Charles (played by the droll William Powell and effervescent Myrna Loy) — but they’re really just as much about witty banter and dry Martinis.

Consider this quote — Nick Charles: “The important thing is the rhythm. Always have rhythm in your shaking. Now a Manhattan you shake to fox-trot time, a Bronx to two-step time, a dry Martini you always shake to waltz time.”

And then there’s poor Nora Charles, suffering from a hang-over, “What hit me?” Nick Charles, “The last Martini.”

And then there’s the classic: Reporter, “Well, can’t you tell us anything about the case?” Nick Charles, “Yes, it’s putting me way behind in my drinking.”

What do you like most about drinking?

There’s a quality of nostalgia about drinking vintage cocktails that I love. For instance, I adore antique coupe classes (which hold a modest two ounces, compared to today’s monstrous eight). I love the sound of the ice in the shaker. I love the taste of a perfectly mixed cocktail. It’s a bit of time travel in a glass, really.