by Helene Stapinski

Every year it’s the same drill. Our family and friends ask, “So what are you doing for New Year’s Eve?” and we always answer, “Staying in our pajamas.”

It wasn’t always that way.

Years ago, back in the early 90s, we tried to go out. We really did.

There were the parties, where people either threw up or passed out, or both. We tried parties at our place, but people either threw up or passed out, or both.

There was the time I tried to go to Times Square, and had to maneuver through the underground subway tunnels to get by the police barricades and drunken fools lining the streets. There was the year we went for a fancy prix fixe dinner in SoHo. We got dressed up and drank champagne and blew noise makers and had a fun time. But when we got the bill, we felt like patsies.

There was the night we went out with my best friend Sara and had a good time. But on the way home, a belligerent drunk called my husband an asshole.

My husband, who never loses his temper, lost his temper. He grabbed the guy by the lapels and threw him on the hood of a car right there on Sixth Avenue, as I stood there screaming. All the guy really needed was a gentle push and he would have gone down; he was that plastered.

That was the last time we ever went out for New Year’s Eve. Sara still hasn’t recovered. And neither have I.

My husband and I like to drink. We consider ourselves professionals. Experts, if you will. We go to the oldest, most sophisticated bars and hotel lounges to sip $15 martinis. We love to make cocktails at home in Brooklyn — complicated creations involving absinthe and orange blossom water and maraschino cherries (not all inthe same drink usually).

But we know how to hold our liquor. We know when we’ve had enough, and we don’t pick fights with people on the street.

New Year’s Eve is amateur night. The streets and bars and restaurants and cabs are filled with people who don’t don’t know what they’re doing, and who don’t usually drink — or drink Schlitz out of a beer bong maybe. They’re the people who wear baseball caps instead of neckties to those sophisticated lounges and talk too loudly at the bar.

These people are not serious drinkers like we are. They don’t appreciate a finely made ice cube or a high-end, meaty olive. New Year’s Eve — much like St. Patrick’s Day — is their night. We leave it to them. Bottoms up. Cin-cin.

For the past two decades, we have refused to leave the house on New Year’s Eve. (Just as I refuse to go into Manhattan on St. Patrick’s Day). We put on our flannels, turn on some cocktail music, then have a couple of Old Fashioneds. We make kid cocktails for our children – orange juice, ginger ale and maraschino cherries in tiki mugs. Then whip up a cheese fondue, followed by a chocolate fondue, then drink a little bit more. Some champagne or an after-dinner snort perhaps.

Dick Clark is too depressing. And Carson Daly? No thanks. We watch Woody’s Allen’s love letter to 1940s New York, “Radio Days,” which ends with a touching New Year’s Eve moment on the roof of one of our favorites, the King Cole Bar. The best scene, though, is when  one of the characters runs out of the house in his boxers, terrorizing the neighborhood with a meat cleaver.

“That’s what Daddy is like when we go out on New Year’s Eve,” I tell the kids. They laugh and laugh.

We don’t wait for the ball to drop, and are in deep REM by midnight.  I go to sleep slightly toasted and listen as the fireworks and horns in the harbor blend into my pleasant dreams, ushering in another new year.

Note: This post originally appeared in 2010.

Helene Stapinski is the author of the bestselling memoir Five-Finger Discount: A Crooked Family History, and Baby Plays Around: A Love Affair, with Music.  She has written articles for The New York Times, New York magazine, Food & Wine, Travel & Leisure and Salon. To read other essays written by Helene Stapinski, click here.

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When I’m not writing about drinking, I’m often writing about traveling. The daughter of two Europeans, I was taken along with my brother wherever our parents went–from France and Jamaica to Israel and Venezuela. I didn’t realize how lucky I was at the time, and as a result of all those journeys, I was bit by the travel bug at an early age. Experiencing different and foreign places, seeking adventures and exploring cultures are what I like to write about most.

At a recent adventure travel conference, I had the pleausre of spending time with a talented travel journalist and blogger, Ellen Barone, who invited me to do a Q+A for her blog about two of my favorite pastimes: drinking and traveling.

Of all the countries you’ve traveled to, who  are the heaviest drinkers and who are the lightest? 

The Brazilians love to party. I’m not sure if it has to do with the consumption of those potent, simultaneously sweet and tart Caipirinhas—touted everywhere as the Brazilian national cocktail—but after a couple, I had no trouble dancing the samba late into the night. The lightest would probably be in Israel. Israelis are not exactly known for their drinking prowess.

What’s your favorite country to drink in? 

While France first comes to mind, I’d have to say that Italy offers me a more diverse selection of drinks I like. An evening that begins with a glass of Prosecco, a Campari and soda, or a Negroni is bound to be a good one. I enjoy Italian wine, and then of course, what is better than a true Italian-made cappuccino?

If you’re a non-drinker, where’s the worst place to visit?

That’s a tough one. I can’t think of a place that I’ve been to where alcohol is not rooted in the culture—from Ouzo in Greece to Arak in Jordan. By the same token, many countries serve delicious, alcohol-free drinks with locally grown fruits. It’s easy to get hooked on passion-fruit smoothies in Thailand and on Chicha Morada (made with purple corn, fruit, cinnamon and cloves) in Peru.

Is there a travel story in your book, Drinking Diaries?

There is a wonderful essay in our book, “Veni, Vidi, Bibi (I Came, I Saw, I Drank”), which is essentially the writer’s quest to find information about an Italian peasant woman whose image adorns the bottle of a liquor called Amaro Lucano and who may be the author’s ancestor. The writer, Helene Stapinski, travels back to her family’s southern Italian town of Pisticci, to get answers. The way she describes her encounters with the locals—all of whom attempt to serve her Amaro Lucano—is very colorful.

To read the complete interview on Travel Updates by Ellen Barone, please click here.

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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 Campbell is founder of the Cocktail Party, based out of Atlanta, Georgia. The Cocktail Party is an anti-movement, a philosophical call for people to remember that politics need not stand at the center of our lives the way it so often does today. Members wish to drink excellent cocktails, but the core of the Cocktail Party’s anti-mission runs deeper. The Cocktail Party exists to recognize and celebrate a less instrumentalized existence, a break from the world’s constant pressure to turn every occasion into an opportunity for achievement, improvement or growth. Cocktail Party members share an appreciation for the great beauty the world has to offer and which is so often missed. This, of course, is often done over cocktails.

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

Mary Campbell: Despite coming from a family of professional drinkers who live in a town that has made binge drinking a competitive sport, I did not have my first drink until I was a junior in college. It was an amaretto sour. Shortly thereafter, I segued to Tanqueray and tonic.

How did/does your family treat drinking?

I grew up not thinking of alcohol as something that was “taboo.”  My parents often had wine with dinner, sometimes cocktails beforehand. They were very “European” in their relationship to drinking.

How do you approach alcohol in your every day life?

Cocktail hour–whether it involves actual cocktails or wine—is part of my daily ritual.  It is a signal that the workday has ended and the time to unwind and talk about the day’s events has begun.

If you have kids, how is the subject of drinking handled? Do you drink in front of them? With them?  

I have dogs and, yes, I do drink in front of them.  I used to have a cat who drank Manhattans out of martini glasses, so I think I have passed the love of cocktails on to my four-legged children.

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

I tend to embrace the idea of steady moderation.  Over-drinking results in hangovers and behavior unbecoming of a proper young lady.

What’s your drink of choice? Why?  

How do I pick one?  I love wine.  It is likely what I drink the most–perhaps because I continue to read studies suggesting that moderate wine drinking is both good for the mind and body.  That said, I have a hard time turning down a well-made margarita.

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

No.

What about the worst time?

If I could remember it.

Has culture or religion influenced your drinking?

Culture, perhaps.  Southern Louisiana is a culture that emphasizes food and wine/liquor.  This was not lost on me. I did hear a story about Jesus turning water into wine, which I thought was pretty amazing, so perhaps religion has reinforced my love of the cocktail as well.

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

I recently got the book, In the Land of Cocktails, written by Adelaide Martin and Lally Brennan of Commander’s Palace in New Orleans, which I have enjoyed thoroughly.  The stories are fabulous, and the recipes are wonderful.

What do you like most about drinking?

The ritual around it: the glasses, the accoutrements, the preparation. Having friends over for drinks and dinner is something I savor; those details set the stage for what I hope will ensue each time–great conversation.

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

Probably a margarita.  Tequila has a reputation for being a little edgy and provocative.  Good tequila is perfect for sipping, like a cognac. Mediocre tequila can be mixed with lime juice and cointreau and transformed into something delicious.  Tequila can make the most out of any situation and, though it appears fun and lighthearted on the surface, has depth and complexity that not everyone can appreciate.

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.

Colleen Mullaney is the author of many lifestyle books, including It’s 5 o’clock Somewhere, The Stylish Girl’s Guide to Fabulous Cocktails, and Punch.

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

Colleen Mullaney: I was about 8 and I had a sip of my grandmother’s sherry.

How did/does your family treat drinking? 

My parents used to drink pitchers of Manhattans with the neighbors on the weekends (I had a sip and thought they tasted like gasoline) and there was always a lot of drinking going on at family gatherings. They drank spirits–vodka and Scotch–very 60′s.

Now they don’t drink anymore. My dad will maybe have a Scotch during the holidays. My mom stopped drinking years ago.

How do you approach alcohol in your every day life?

When I’m writing a cocktail book I’m experimenting with cocktails, or testing them, and I’m out shopping for new spirits, wines, or liqueurs for my recipes, but the testing in done in small batches.

But in my normal everyday life, I love wine, so it’s always around. I love to cook, and so I’ll use it for cooking as well. But I don’t drink every day, usually end of the week and weekends. I really try to lead a healthy lifestyle through diet and exercise, and cocktails every day  doesn’t fit.

My go-to cocktail would be a really good margarita in the summer, or a fun cocktail, like the one I made this weekend when we had friends over. It had vodka, St. Germain, pomegranate  juice, and was topped off with Prosecco. They were tasty!

If you have kids, how is the subject of drinking handled? Do you drink in front of them? With them?

I have three children who know what I do (although many of my books/articles/videos are not about cocktails!). They know that having some friends over means opening up some wine or mixing cocktails for the adults, and whipping up a pitcher of Shirley Temples for them. I never think of handling the subject. I hope I’m showing them by example.

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

When I was single and living in the city, I would go out and drink wine with work friends, and have no problem getting up and working the next day. Now, forget it, I don’t have half the energy I had back then! There’s too much I need to focus on: my family, my kids, my work. I have to be on my toes!

What’s your drink of choice? Why?

My favorite drink is white wine. It’s easy, smooth, enjoyable, and is just strong enough. I used to only drink chardonnay, but I’m branching out to other whites and reds.

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

I don’t have one specific time but many, and they are always with friends.

What do you like most about drinking?

Its social tendencies.

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

Because I enjoy it.

How has alcoholism affected your life?

It’s put warning flags up for me. I know what is good for me and what is not.

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

A margarita on the rocks with salt and lots of fresh lime (Patron, Grand Marnier, fresh lime juice, splash of pineapple juice), because I would be on a beach somewhere with great island music playing in the background.

Whiskey has been in the press a lot these days, and all stories seem to focus on its increasingly devoted buyer: women.

The liquor industry is seeing a surge in women buying alcoholic drinks traditionally marketed toward men, reported a recent piece on msnbc.com titled, ‘Mad Men’ effect? More women get a taste for whiskey. The whiskey industry acknowledges that “women make 65 to 70 percent of the alcohol-purchasing decisions for at-home consumption,” according to New England Consulting Group, so its now-finally–concentrating on the female buyer. As a result, a number of companies have added different styles and a wide range of flavors and aromas.

In fact, there’s even a non-alcoholic version of whiskey on the market–ideal for those who like the flavor of whiskey and who are either pregnant or prefer to abstain from alcohol. As promoted on its website, ArKay is “the world’s first alcohol-free ,whiskey-flavored drink…a perfect beverage that anyone can consume.”

There is some controversy about Arkay, however–so don’t throw out the O’Doul’s just yet. According to the Scotch Whiskey Association, ArKay is just a “soft drink with artificial flavorings.”

Historically known as a masculine drink, whiskey advertisements have almost exclusively been directed at men (exhibit right). This sparked an interesting debate, addressed in Brooke Carey’s Huffington Post piece, Women and Whiskey Advertising. After researching whiskey’s advertising past, Carey uncovered that the question “isn’t why don’t whiskey makers pay the ladies any attention but, rather, why do women respond to masculine ads while the reverse doesn’t appear to be true?”

It’s an interesting question. So what do you think about the advertising focus? And who buys the booze in your house?

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I’ve heard about offering tea, coffee, and bottled water to clients at hair salons. But a glass of wine?

Apparently, regardless of New York City liquor laws, many a salon serves booze to women spending their afternoons getting a cut and color. I’d read about “Girls Nights Out” at Dashing Divas and their complimentary Cosmos during a Thursday and Friday evening mani/pedi, but never knew about the post 3 pm coctkail offerings at hair salons.

After reading “A Blowout Made Me Blotto! The Illegal Scourge of Salon Drinking” on the New York Observer website, I’m wondering if I’ve been getting my hair cut at the wrong salon for all these years. And on the flip side, what if you’d rather not be faced with a drink offer when going to have your hair done. Do the salons keep it discreet?

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“What’s your favorite drink?” asked Chantal, our journalist-cum-tour guide. “Caipirinha,” I answered without hesitation (for those unfamiliar, it’s a Brazilian cocktail made with sugar cane liquor, or Cachaca, fresh lime, and sugar). Others replied, “Manhattan,” “Old Fashioned,” and “Dry Martini.”

Thus began our New York City walking tour, titled “About the Birth of the Cocktail: A Drinkable History of New York,” run by the Philadelphia-based Context Travel.

Once our group of five introduced ourselves on the sidewalk of 55th Street and received a brief introduction about the birth of the cocktail, we entered the St. Regis hotel. Through the lobby and around the restaurant, we made our way to the King Cole bar—opened in 1905—and allegedly famous for birthing the Red Snapper, aka the Bloody Mary. (We also learned on this tour that most claims to inventing cocktails are deeply controversial and there is no real way to confirm any of the lore.) Not only famous for its drinks, the towering painting that hangs behind the bar was painted by Maxfield Parrish in 1934, and depicts Old King Cole–you know, that merry old soul.

Next stop was the 21 Club, conceived 81 years ago in the early days of Prohibition as a speakeasy/restaurant by two guys known as Jack and Charlie. We were warmly greeted by Brian, the knowledgeable cellarmaster, who led us through the kitchen and down a flight of stairs to the basement level. Here, we watched Brian insert a meat skewer through a specific hole in what appeared to be a wall of bricks—quite a guise for those booze-seeking cops back in the day. Once engaged, the lock allowed us to push forward on the door (made of two tons of brick) and enter the wine cellar, still housing the vintage bottles once “laid down” for the likes of Jimmy Stewart, Richard Nixon, Elizabeth Taylor, and Sammy Davis Jr. We learned about the “meetings” (read: Tony Soprano types) and events that have taken place in the second and adjacent cellar which now houses a long table that can accommodate more than 20 (21?).

After a quick subway ride to the Flatiron district, we visited the offices of the Cocktail Kingdom. Actually, a mini museum of cocktail books and a barware business, the owner, Greg Boehm, fits the bill as a cocktail professor. Incredibly proud of his book collection (there was a book about ciders—the precursor to cocktails—dating back to 1676), he recounted stories about the origins of the Rainbow Room and the demise of the use of bitters.

Our final stop was the Raines Law Room on West 17^th Street. A few steps below street level, we knocked on the door and a man peeked his face through the door to ask us discreetly, “How many?” We followed him into the replica of a dimly lit piece of history—part Victorian, part Speakeasy.

Cozy booths with sheer drapes and tiny protruding tables line each side of the front room. Each booth has a button to push to alert the bar that you are in need of service. A small place that has just added a new back patio, the biggest draw is the bar kitchen at the back, where they have created a space for drinkers/customers to enjoy a close up view of the concoctions being created and poured.

While others drank Manhattans and the Corpse Reviver, I sipped an Old Cuban (rum, lime juice, mint, sugar, bitters and champagne). It was an eye-opening tour and I loved the history. But most of all, it made me grateful—that we don’t have to hide a glass of wine with dinner, or sneak through tons of brick to toast an occasion.

When I was growing up in the Bronx, a highlight of the summer weekends was the Sunday night barbeques behind our apartment building. The men cooked up burgers and hotdogs while drinking beers, the women wore sleeveless tops—a few donning head scarves— and sipped cocktails, and we kids ran around playing. Now, the style and accessories of that late 1960s/early 70s era will be part of a museum exhibition that celebrates happy hours throughout the decades—and the fashion that defined it. From April 15 until July 13, people can visit the Museum of Art at RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) to view the designs and accessories of Cocktail Culture: Ritual and Invention in American Fashion, 1920-1980.

The exhibition, which is organized thematically, aims to show the ways in which the cocktail hour had a strong influence on 20^th century fashion and design—from the Roaring Twenties to the wartime and postwar periods to the social upheaval and loosening of societal rules of the 1960s and ’70s. Just like the days of those Sunday night barbeques, visitors will see how difference venues for cocktails, which also include nightclubs and the luxury ocean liner, changed the ways people dressed. There’s also a section about icons, featiuring the classic elements of cocktail culture, such as the little black dress.

As the museum press release notes, “From Prohibition to disco, cocktails and fashion ritualized the passage of time, and helped men and women navigate the sweeping social changes that defined 20th- century American life…Cocktail Culture traces the influence of the cocktail hour on fashion and design in the 20th century, from the Flapper of Prohibition to the ultra feminine dresses of post-WWII to the spangled pantsuit of the disco era, and the accompanying designs for shakers and glasses.”

In a recent piece in the New York Times, Tim Murphy writes that among the 30-something New Yorker set, hiring a bartender adds class to a party, no matter how small the apartment and its reading-corner-cum-bar.

In addition to polishing your act (no more keg and chips for you), hiring a bartender for an at-home party can have pragmatic purpose–relieving the host of having to deal with all of your guests’ beverage needs.

In every city, there are professional services that can provide you with bartender sources–the Times piece reports that for four to five hours of work, bartenders charge between $100 and $200. Or, you could do what we do: hire a relative, give him a quick bartending education (or refer him to any of the Bartending 101-like classes on line), and unless he tests out too many of his concoctions and forgets how to mix a cocktail, you should be all set. Party on.

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I’m not sure when it started. My problem’s been growing steadily in recent years, but I think it all began about 15 years ago when my parents received a gift from their friends in Arizona. I stood next to my mother while she opened the box and unwrapped the mounds of white tissue paper. She gently pulled each one out, and I stared, mesmerized by the colors. They were the funkiest and most beautiful champagne flutes I’d ever seen. Tall and majestic, hand-blown and thick, they were like pieces of art, with each stem differing in color—bright blue, orange and yellow—from its bowl. My mother placed them on a round tray in her dining room, where they’ve been sitting ever since.

My interest was piqued when I moved into my first house 12 years ago. No longer cramped in a city apartment with a tiny galley kitchen, I was faced with seemingly endless cupboards to fill. And that they did. First with some Hungarian clear, crystal old-fashioned glasses with small fish-shaped etchings, which I picked up at Crate & Barrel. Then with some Morroccan-inspired glasses (3 red, 3 blue, 3 green) from Shabby Chic in Soho. My husband drank his Scotch with the fish, while I sipped my wine “from” Morrocco. We also had some traditional wine glasses—basic ones that suited any kind and color of wine, and that wouldn’t make me cry if they broke. (We’d quickly returned all of our wedding-registry crystal, knowing we just weren’t mature enough at 25 to have such expensive glassware.)

About seven years ago, my appreciation of/love for/focus on (I really don’t like the word “obsession”) accelerated when we moved into a bigger house with even more cabinet space. They were just begging to be crammed with new colors, shapes, textures and sizes…of glassware.

My husband and I picked up some pilsener glasses at a brewery in Vermont, and some every day white and red wine glasses from Bloomingdales. On vacation in the Berkshires, we perused in a store in Hudson and I simply had to have these hand-blown glasses with a rich, brown tortoise pattern. I couldn’t wait to make room for those.

Now when I wasn’t buying glasses for my own use, I was deriving deep satisfaction buying them for others. I bought Reidel “O” glasses as gifts on more than one occasion, and the same set of the most exquisite, stemless champagne flutes for two girlfriends (they live far away from one another so I knew I’d get away with it).

Things got a bit more intense a year ago, when I befriended a publicist who has ties (read: discount) to a company that makes some pretty amazing glassware. My kids have started making fun of me, as the boxes arrive on a seemingly regular basis bringing so many glasses (well, I needed some stemless for us, too, and then I fell in love with a few other varieties) that I’ve had to relocate some of the older models to a basement closet. I know my husband hesitates after he opens a bottle of wine—his eyes spin around with confusion as he approaches the cabinets and their growing collection, trying to select the “right” glass.

I’m really trying to curb my habit, and have cut myself off from any additional glass purchases for a while. But I may need to eventually clear a little more space, as I’m still secretly hoping that one of these days, my mother will pick up that tray in her dining room and offer me those flutes from Arizona.

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If you played a drinking game where everyone had to take a swig every time the word “drink” was mentioned in a J.D. Salinger novel or story, you’d be loaded by the end of certain stories.

Like many people, I’ve been thinking about J.D. Salinger and what I love about his work, which made me start thinking about drinking. In Salinger’s short stories & novels, everyone drinks–men, women, teens–and mostly, in keeping with the times, they drink cocktails, Mad Men-style.

You could do an entire analysis of drinking as social lubricant and facilitator of secret-spilling in just one of his stories, “Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut,” from the collection, Nine Stories. For those of you who haven’t yet read it, read it. The gist of the story is this: Mary Jane and Eloise,  former college roommates, have a cocktail-soaked lunch sans food (“the whole damn lunch was burned”) at Eloise’s house. They start out with small talk and gossip, but over the course of a few hours, they peel away the layers of conversation until  hard-as-nails Eloise uncovers a secret from her past and sobs to Mary Jane. Turns out she isn’t so icy, after all, and the drinking uncovers her vulnerability.

Throughout the entire story, drinking is a heavy subtext, so much so that the glass of booze becomes almost another character in the story:

“Twenty minutes later they were finishing their first highball in the living room and were talking in the manner peculiar, probably limited, to former college roommates.”

“‘Marvellous,’ she said, coming back into drinking position.”

“‘Gimme your glass,’ Eloise said, swinging her stockinged feet to the floor and standing up.”

“‘This is positively the last one for me!’ Mary Jane called after her.”

“Like hell it is.”

“With little or no wherewithal for being left alone in a room, Mary Jane stood up and walked over to the window.”

“It’s getting so icy out…Didn’t you put any soda in them?”

“Eloise came forward with the drinks. She placed Mary Jane’s insecurely into its coaster but kept her own in hand.”

“‘This is my last. And I mean it,’ Mary Jane said, picking up her drink.”

“Oh, God! Look what I did. I’m terribly sorry, El.” (Mary Jane spills her drink)

“‘Oh, what a pretty dress!’ She set down her drink.”

“‘I don’t get it,’ Mary Jane said to Eloise, who was finishing her drink.”

“Call up and say you were killed. Let go of that damn glass.”

“‘I mean, you didn’t really know Walt,’ said Eloise at a quarter of five, lying on her back on the floor, a drink balanced upright on her small-breasted chest. ‘He was the only boy I ever knew that could make me laugh. I mean really laugh.’”

“Mary Jane giggled. She was lying on her stomach on the couch…her drink was on the floor, within reach.”

“Eloise raised her head, liftend her drink from her chest, and drank from it.”

“Eloise paused to drink from her glass and to think.”

“Eloise finished her drink and replaced the empty glass upright on her chest.”

“Eloise began to cry. She put her hand around the empty glass on her chest to steady it.”

“Let’s have another drink.”

“You go get the drinks, huh. And bring the bottle…”

“At the window seat, she poured what was left in the bottle of Scotch into her glass. It made about a finger. She drank if off, shivered, and sat down.”

On a side note, women today might more likely be sharing a bottle of wine, but no one in Salinger’s stories drank wine (Head on over to “Dear Dara” to read Dara‘s blog post about the absence of wine in Salinger’s novels & short stories).  Can you think of a time in your life when a secret was spilled or something was confided because someone had a few too many?

Seems there was a big flap over School Library Journal’s November cover. (at left). A handful of readers wrote angry letters taking issue with the cover photograph, which showed several notable children’s literature bloggers, some of whom happen to be librarians, holding alcoholic beverages (pink, Mad Men-esque cocktails). I had to admit I got a little nervous reading this snippet from one of the letters: “It certainly doesn’t fit to combine blogging with drinking.” Hmmmm.

I say: Most, if not all, readers of School Library Journal are adults, and kids viewing the cover know that many adults (legally) drink, so what’s the problem here?

I think the real issue is the coexistence of three things: Drinking, School & Library. As one letter-writer wrote: “The cover of the November issue is offensive. It does not portray an image of a school librarian with which I want to be associated.” Yikes!

For some reason, I thought of the scene in School of Rock where Jack Black takes the principal (played by nerd-girl extraordinaire Joan Cusack) out to a bar to butter her up. I remembered how squeamy it made me feel to see Cusack in her prissy teacher persona knock back a few beers and start moving and grooving to Stevie Nicks. Just like we all have to face the fact that yes, our parents have had sex, we also have to accept the reality that the people who work with our children are humans, not saints, and that some of them might occasionally enjoy a cocktail. Is that really so taboo?

And isn’t it better for teens to see responsible members of the community modeling responsible drinking, rather than some unattainable idea of Pollyanna perfection?

My favorite response to the letters was the blogger over at “Collecting Children’s Books,“ who suggested that anyone offended by the “liquored-up” cover–“Mormons, teetotalers, AA members, anyone who lives in a “dry country,” as well as old fuddy-duddies”–should send away for a “replacement alcohol-free” cover, which can be pasted over the offending illustration.”  (See below for her GOT MILK? Cover)

Having a drink at a bar ain’t what it used to be…Apparently, the use of date-rape drugs is on the rise. To combat the problem, a company called Drink Safe USA has developed a new coaster that tests cocktails for the presence of date-rape drugs. Fantastic invention–or a strange and sad reflection of our times?

The coasters, which test for two of the most popular date-rape drugs (GHB and ketamine) are distributed at bars. Unlike regular coasters, they feature colored dots at their corners. You place a drop of your drink on the dots, and they will change color if the drink has been contaminated with a foreign substance.

Bars using the coasters, which cost .40 a piece, will display signs in their front windows informing patrons of that fact, which they believe may deter would-be criminals from spiking drinks.

If you shell out a dollar, you can buy an AlcoTop, a bottle cap designed to keep your beer safe from predators.

Of course, there’s always the option of taking your drink with you wherever you go. So much for dancing.