Midnight Explosion and Breakfast in Bed

When all is said and drunk, the toasts remembered longest are the toasts that taste best. Long after the single syllable "Cheers" and the dissyllabic "Here's t' ye" and the clever New Year's Eve offerings of the silver-tongued toastmasters have gone up and down the hatch, the mouth will yearn for the mellow but stunning flavor of a holiday bourbon rum punch swirling around a big block of ice. The bacchanalian spell is now upon us and an overflowing river of champagne fills bumpers everywhere with the most eminent and easiest of all liquid pledges. At the yearend holidays, particularly, the arbiter bibendi should be on his guard against the make-believe carbonated white wines that suddenly show up on liquor shelves dressed up to look like champagne and that hope to pass unnoticed in the busy revels. There are great bubbly wines, such as the German sparkling Sekt and the Italian asti spumante; but when that magic wishing hour of midnight rolls around and champagne is to be offered, remember the old toast, "May all your pain be sham pain and all your champagne real." And in the name of good toastmanship, we would add, "May all your Scotch be at least eight years old and preferably twelve, may your bourbon be the smoothest, your gin the clearest, your rum worthy of a yo-ho-ho and your vodka the cleanest tasting this side of the Volga."

There can be only one New Year's Eve per year; and to glorify it, there should be a munificent supply of bottled goods on hand, generously offered. From the Greeks onward, the natural history of toasting is a saga of the ability of party makers to invent never-ending toasts to satisfy never-ending thirsts. The British, particularly, have always been resourceful in the art of composing new versions of "Here's" cheers long into the night. After the king's or the queen's health was drunk, the Empire properly clinked, the wives, daughters and mistresses present or absent solemnized with anything from Scotch to champagne, they'd turn their attention to their rivals on the Continent. When "May the Gallic cock never tread among British poultry" seemed too bluntly aimed at the French, they went on to drink, "May the enemies of Great Britain know the want of (concluded on page 251) Midnight Explosion (continued from page. 98) beef and claret," a toast which, while damning the foe, celebrated in the same sentence the holiday roast beef of Merry England and the great red wines of Bordeaux. Scandinavians, less verbose, less formal and therefore more attuned to modern tastes in toasting, often dispense with all words and mix their liquor and love silently. A deep, fixed stare between toaster and toastee while the icy aquavit passes 'twixt cup and lips says far more vividly than any words, "Here's looking at you"; and, needless to say, the wordless toasts go on indefinitely. Many Scotsmen setting out on an evening of toasting come directly to the point, proudly waving their glasses to "A ram's horn filled with usquebaugh." Even Charles Dickens didn't hesitate to take the old English toast "May we never want a friend nor a glass to give him" and sensibly substitute the word "bottle" for "glass."

All toasts that are mixed, from martinis to mai tais, should be made to generous but mathematically exact measurements before pouring into shaker, bowl or glass. They should be served in generoussize prechilled glasses. All year long at bachelor parties, there are countless toasts to the bride and countless fireplaces where the glasses after each round are ceremoniously tossed. The purpose may, indeed, be worthy, but the glasses are frequently five-and-dime-store variety. For holiday toasting, drinking stemware should be the hand-blown type, the kind that you'd proudly hold aloft even when empty.

Although the pop of the champagne cork is always a signal for raising glasses, potables other than champagne are just as toastable--an ouzo on the rocks before a midnight buffet, a vintage port at the end of a sumptuous game dinner, a hot Scotch toddy in the wee hours of the dawn. But no matter what the holiday blowout, the host should plan on one special spirit or mixed drink for toasting --something from his cellar or liquor cabinet that proclaims, "Here's the very best."

Here's how.

[recipe_title]Bourbon rum punch[/recipe_title]

(24 punch cups)

[drinkRecipe]1 quart plus 8 ozs. bourbon[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1 pint light rum[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]8 ozs. apple brandy, calvados or apple-jack[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]4 ozs. ginger-flavored brandy[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1 pint fresh lemon juice[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1 pint fresh orange juice[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1/2 cup sugar[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1/3 cup orange or orzata (almond syrup)[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]6 slices orange, each cut into quarters[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]4 slices lemon, each cut in half[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1 quart iced club soda[/drinkRecipe]

Prechill all liquid ingredients. Pour bourbon, rum, apple brandy, ginger-flavored brandy, lemon juice and orange juice over large block of ice in punch bowl. Add sugar and orgeat, stirring until sugar dissolves. Add sliced fruit. Let punch ripen in refrigerator 1 hour, if possible. Pour club soda into bowl. Stir lightly.

[recipe_title]Happy Marnier[/recipe_title]

[drinkRecipe]1/2 ozs. Grand Marnier[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1/2 oz. coffee liqueur[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1 oz. freshly squeezed orange juice[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1/2 oz. sweet cream[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1/3 cup crushed ice[/drinkRecipe]

Put all ingredients in blender. Blend at low speed 10 to 15 seconds. Pour into prechilled deep saucer champagne glass. A sweet after-dinner or after-supper toast, replacing a dessert.

[recipe_title]Champagne Fraise[/recipe_title]

[drinkRecipe]4 ozs. iced brut champagne[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1/2 teaspoon strawberry liqueur[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1/2 teaspoon kirsch[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]Large fresh strawberry[/drinkRecipe]

Pour strawberry liqueur and kirsch into prechilled champagne glass. Measure half teaspoons precisely, don't over-pour; their flavors will come through. Tilt glass so that liquors cover bottom and sides of glass. Add champagne. Float strawberry on drink.

[recipe_title]Sparkling Galliano[/recipe_title]

[drinkRecipe]1/2 oz. Galliano[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]4 ozs. iced brut champagne[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]1/2 teaspoon lemon juice[/drinkRecipe]

[drinkRecipe]Cucumber rind, 1-1/2 ins. long, 1/2 in. wide[/drinkRecipe]

Pour Galliano and lemon juice into prechilled champagne glass. Stir. Add cucumber rind and champagne. Drink to the stars.

And there is no better complement to the spirit and spirits of New Year's Eve wassailing than a warmly offered and well-turned toast. Herewith, a dollop of piquant phrases to add to the festivities:

May we kiss those we please

And please those we kiss.

Here's to the curves men view withdelight;

The ones that are kept in drawers atnight.

Here's to the pictures on my desk.

May they never meet.

Here's to me.

I finally found what's unbelievable--

A sex-mad maid who's inconceivable.

Here's to Eve--mother of our race;

Who wore a fig leaf in just the rightplace.

And here's to Adam--daddy of us all;

Who was Johnny on the spot,

When the leaves began to fall.

Here's to the game they call TenToes;

It's played all over town.

The girls all play with ten toes up.

The boys with ten toes down.

Here's to the man who takes a wife,

Let him make no mistake:

For it makes a lot of difference

Whose wife it is you take.

Here's to love and unity,

Dark corners and opportunity.

Here's to fertility--the toast of agriculture and the bane of love.

Bottoms up!

A sensibly swinging approach to a happy new year morning after

It's Quite natural that more breakfasts in bed are proffered during the holidays than at any other time of the year. For weeks the town's been painted in rainbow hues with parties of every size and sentiment in riotous profusion, with the tumult and shouting eventually giving way to the quiet haven of bed, bed, delicious bed. Everywhere, bedmates share the feeling that while it's nice to get up in the morning, it's nicer to lie in bed. And the man with the imagination and the will power (especially if he's put in a hard day's night as a host) to plug in a coffeepot can make his bed a base of gustatory operations to give the day's late start a sybaritic lift.

Over the centuries, the bed has always provided the most sophisticated kind of climate for creative play of all sorts. Didn't Roman intellectuals and noblemen banquet on couches? Didn't Voltaire and Mark Twain turn out their best prose in bed? Didn't Louis XIV not only eat in bed, receive friends in bed, but also hold formal court in bed? In Shakespeare's time, there was the Great Bed of Ware that accommodated no less than 12 persons. There were trundle beds with the master and mistress in the upper reaches and beneath them a second bed rolled into place, where a servant kept himself at the constant beck and call of the noble denizens on top. We can't imagine a more convenient but more meddlesome setup. In today's usually servantless apartments, all the fun, the delicious charm of a breakfast in bed is its twosomeness, and its technique must be governed accordingly.

B. in b. usually starts out as a whim the night before. It is a whim, however, that should be taken seriously, and certain advance steps such as preparing a beignet batter should be completed a day in advance or, at the latest, before getting into the sack. For the gentleman of the house playing the New Year's Eve host, it is as essential as sending out the invitations, to lay the groundwork for the next day's fast breaking. Whether the dawn comes up like thunder or sulks behind a snowstorm doesn't matter. When you're snugly ensconced under the covers against the wintry wind, with a (continued on page 213) Breakfast in bed (continued from page 98) helpmate to share your bed and board, life--what'er the weather--assumes a roseate glow. And if you play your cards and your charms right, she'll be bringing the breakfast tray to you. After all, you've made the preparations and set the stage for the event; she should be flattered to be playing a key role.

Robert Graves, in his poem Beauty in Trouble, tells of a woman who, after fleeing a rascal who had blackened her eye, robbed her and betrayed her, turned to a square John who eagerly paid her debts, comforted her, ran a steaming bath and even served her breakfast in bed. She vowed to repay him for his "most seraphic thoughtfulness/a millionfold one day," only to return to the fiend from whom she originally fled. A careful reading of the poem explains why. Her breakfast in bed-- Graves' only error in an otherwise lovely lyric--was orange juice, eggs, marmalade, toast and coffee, a pedestrian persuader if ever there was one. Graves undoubtedly knows there are two kinds of breakfasts in bed: a Continental croissant and coffee, which is really not a breakfast but a supplement to the alarm clock, and another kind that is a bouquet of flavors, a rich, soft poem to the palate. Orange juice, for example, must be made from fresh fruit that is chilled, cut fresh, scjueezed fresh and augmented, particularly on a holiday morning, with vodka, sherry, rum, brandy or Pernod. Scrambled eggs aren't just scrambled but exalted with shallots, chives and grated parmesan cheese. Marmalade today isn't just marmalade but marmalade laced with rum or with Scotch.

There are an infinite number of matutinal dishes that match pleasant dreams. They should be brought to the bedroom in a comfortable serving cart or on a properly appointed tray. The burnished silver, linen, glassware and china should all be checked in the kitchen before-hand, so that a single trip is all that's necessary.

The following recipes are just a modest sampling of eye-opening counterpane cuisine. Each recipe, of course, serves two.

[recipe_title]Scrambled eggs with Shallots au Gratin[/recipe_title]

[recipe]6 eggs, beaten)[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons butter[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons finely minced shallots or onions[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon finely minced fresh chives Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup heavy cream, whipped, unsweetened[/recipe]

[recipe]Grated parmesan cheese[/recipe]

Preheat broiler flame at least 10 minutes. Melt butter in heavy saucepan. Add shallots and sauté over low flame no more than 1 minute. Shallots should not brown. Add eggs and chives. Season with salt and pepper. Cook over moderate flame, stirring constantly, until eggs are soft scrambled. Turn eggs into individual shallow casseroles or shirred-egg dishes. Spread top with about 1/4 in. whipped cream, covering eggs completely. Sprinkle with cheese and place under broiler flame until light brown. Browning will take place quickly; avoid scorching. (There may be some whipped cream left over. Sweeten it for topping coffee later.)

[recipe_title]Creamed ham with cognac, grilled apricots[/recipe_title]

[recipe]1/2 lb. sliced cooked ham (No. 3 on slicing machine)[/recipe]

[recipe]3 whole canned peeled apricots, drained Ground cinnamon[/recipe]

[recipe]Ground coriander[/recipe]

[recipe]Sugar[/recipe]

[recipe]Butter[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup heavy sweet cream[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons cognac Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]2 egg yolks, well beaten[/recipe]

Preheat broiler flame. Separate apricots into halves and remove pits. Place fruit in a shallow pan, pit side down. Sprinkle lightly with cinnamon and coriander. Sprinkle generously with sugar and dot with butter. Place under broiler flame until lightly browned. Cut ham into 1/2-in. squares. Sauté in 2 tablespoons butter over low flame about 3 minutes, until ham is glossy with butter. Add cream and bring to a boil. Reduce flame and simmer very slowly 5 minutes. Add cognac and salt and pepper to taste. Remove from fire. Stir several tablespoons sauce from pan into egg yolks. Add egg yolks to ham, mixing well. Simmer over low flame, stirring constantly, until sauce thickens. Remove at once from fire or sauce may curdle. Spoon ham into two shirred-egg dishes. On each portion place 3 apricot halves.

(concluded overleaf)

[recipe_title]Breakfast Beignets[/recipe_title]

[recipe]1/4 cup milk[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup orange juice[/recipe]

[recipe]2 teaspoons grated orange rind[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup butter[/recipe]

[recipe]3/4 cup flour[/recipe]

[recipe]3 eggs[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon salt[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon vanilla[/recipe]

[recipe]1 oz. brandy[/recipe]

[recipe]Oil for frying[/recipe]

[recipe]Confectioners' sugar[/recipe]

French beignets, a very smooth, light type of fritter, sometimes called beignets soufflés, are eaten both as a main course for breakfast and as a breakfast sweet.

In a small heavy saucepan, heat milk, orange juice, orange rind and butter until butter melts and liquids are boiling. Add flour all at once and stir constantly until batter leaves sides of pan. Remove from fire and turn into mixing bowl. Add eggs, one at a time, beating very well after each addition. Add salt, vanilla and brandy. Beat well. Store batter, covered, in refrigerator until needed. Into an electric skillet preheated to 370° pour 1/4 in. oil. Drop batter by tablespoons into hot oil. Fry beignet, turning once, until well browned on both sides. Check the first beignet removed from pan to make sure inside is completely cooked. Drain on absorbent paper. Sprinkle lightly with confectioners' sugar. Serve with beignet sauce below.

[recipe_title]Beignet Sauce[/recipe_title]

[recipe]1/2 cup orange marmalade[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup heavy cream[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon orange juice[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon curaçao[/recipe]

Chop marmalade on cutting board until pieces of peel are minced very fine. Turn marmalade into a saucepan. Add cream, orange juice and curaçao and mix well. Heat very slowly just before serving. Pour onto serving plates and place beignets on top, or pour into sauceboat and serve separately with beignets.

These are but a few of the flavorsome fixin's that can help keep the morning after from becoming nought but a mourning after. And so to bed.