Friday, October 10, 2014

The Hard Stuff: Les Brers

Les Brers
One of the early goals in my shrub making venture was to push the flavor boundaries of what people had been doing with them for years, which is either making a shrub with one type of fruit or in some instances pairing them with an herb or spice.
It feels like my primary approach is to think more as a modern cook might, and that meant thinking of dishes people really enjoy, and then attempting to translate something evocative of those flavors in the shrubs that I was making.
In the case of the original incarnation of Jessica, I went for a sort of peach cobbler or tart flavor by incorporating allspice berries, vanilla, and brown sugar with ripe yellow peaches. On the one hand, this worked pretty well, and if one were going to only mix it with soda or eat it with ice cream, the complexity was quite welcome, as it gave those applications some additional mystery and depth.
Recently, as I re-examined this profile, it seemed a little bit limiting. While all of these flavors were certainly tasty, it was not the sort of package you could use in a wide variety of cocktails without basically hitting a wall in terms of versatility. Hence, the decision to change the shrub to a more simple peach and brown sugar model.

Despite the fact that the new formula of Jessica does a much better job of highlighting the fruit, there was something about that flavor profile I just couldn't shake. It occurred to me that there was no earthly reason why this peach shrub couldn't still bring those delightful elements together, I would simply have to change the medium.I immediately thought of one of my favorite cocktails that shares some similar flavors with the old version of the shrub, The Lion's Tail.

The Lion's Tail is a bourbon based cocktail that dates back to the Cafe Royal Cocktail Book which came out in England sometime in the late 30's. A fine combination of the aforementioned bourbon with lime juice, allspice liqueur, Angostura bitters, and a tiny bit of simple syrup for balance, The Lion's Tail is one of those cocktails that turns out to be kind of the autumn sweater of cocktails: warm, smooth, and just enough spice to evoke memories of cuddling under blankets and fireplaces and what have you.

These ingredients of the original cocktail are just begging for the addition of some peach in the mix, and there is no question that peaches and bourbon are an excellent match, but that seemed a little too rote. I wanted more vanilla and richness to meld right into the peach and the allspice, and I knew that Zaya 12 year was going to be the base of this cocktail.

Zaya 12 year, is a very vanilla forward rum; an extremely smooth operator that is usually best employed over a large ice cube for an evening sipper, it had those very prominent notes I wanted to get a peach cobbler vibe across, but with a bit of flash and muscle rather than delving into the sickly sweet dessert-in-a-glass route.

The rest of the ingredient list was the same, with the keen addition of a healthy slug of new formula Jessica, a lessening of the lime and allspice liqueur and the complete omission of the simple syrup which had basically been replaced by the concentrated shrub syrup.

As it turned out after a half a bottle worth of attempts, my first attempt was actually the best one, and it's the one I am going to share with you.

So without further ado, please enjoy the Les Brers.

Les Brers

2 oz Zaya 12 rum(or another vanilla forward rum)
.75 oz Jessica
.25 oz lime juice
.25 oz St. Elizabeth Allspice Dram
1 dash Angostura bitters

Combine ingredients in shaker with ice. Shake vigourously until chilled and strain up into a cocktail glass. No garnish.


In regard to the name, Les Brers is a truncated version of the Allman Brothers Band song "Les Brers in A Minor" which follows the shrub being named Jessica, after another Allman Brothers tune of some note.

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Book Review: Shrubs: An Old Fashioned Drink For Modern Times by Michael Dietsch


The world seems to be in the midst of an urban craft renaissance of sorts; you're as likely to see a young twenty-something knitting on the bus as you would the 60 year old next to them. Chicken coops are springing up in cities great and small far from the pastoral environs in which they are normally seen, and preservation, be it canning, pickling, or fermented foods are all the rage.

And it's that last part where the modern re-emergence of shrubs have been threatening to make a comeback for the past several years, just bubbling under the surface as the focus of multiple trend pieces and popping up on some of the more forward(or temporally backward) thinking bar menus you may have seen.

Well, if shrubs have been gliding by just under the radar up until now, with the recent release of Michael Dietsch's debut book, Shrubs: An Old Fashioned Drink For Modern Times, these tart wonders should prepare for their close-up, as they are poised to finally bask in the heady adoration of food and beverage enthusiasts everywhere.

Mr. Dietsch has done an excellent job of breaking the book into distinct sections, beginning with a well researched and very entertaining run through the origins of this mysterious drink, charting its humble beginnings as a flavored soft drink tablet to colonial standby and beyond. To say any more about the historical section would spoil the fun of discovering the serendipitous route of shrubs to our modern table for potential readers, so I'll move on to the more hands-on areas of the book.

A section of shrub recipes follows, both of the historical variety and more modern flavors which in my view do an excellent job of illustrating the overall arc of the world's taste in shrubs, beginning with colonial liquor based offerings that would have been enjoyed by no less than Benjamin Franklin, all the way to some ambitious savory offerings that certainly push at the boundaries of the more general straight up fruit based shrubs that have generally been more common up until this new modern revival of the drink.

Dietsch's excellent, easy to follow instructions are perfect for novices and experts alike, striking an almost conversational tone of an old friend walking you through the process and having a fun afternoon of it. An approachable tone and expert guidance are a must when teaching people about subjects in food and beverage when presenting a concept that is likely to be foreign to most people, and this book nails it.

Additional recipes for other drinks including cocktails and sodas utilizing the shrubs are also well-written and accompanied by really gorgeous photography all of which makes the reader thirst for more.

Speaking as someone who has been really dedicated to this craft for some time, and cares deeply about seeing this modern revival take hold, the publication of this book is both timely and vital. As one will see from reading the book, shrubs have had a long and storied history being the supporting actor in many a bar manual and cookbook over the past few centuries, but in all those years of flavoring bad booze, or seeing farmers and their families through long, parched summers of field work, shrub has quietly been around not drawing as much attention as flashier fare such as soda or alcohol.

As a cocktail enthusiast, I am thrilled with this modern era to be spoiled for choice with hundreds of books about libations to choose from, and all of those had to begin with the first book written specifically about the craft of bartending.

With the debut of Michael Dietsch's Shrubs, our craft has finally gotten the book its pedigree has rightfully earned, and I can only hope that we won't be waiting for another few centuries for more books of this quality on the subject to be made.

You can buy Mr. Dietsch's book Shrubs: An Old Fashioned Drink For Modern Times here.

Monday, October 6, 2014

The Hard Stuff: The Bitter Ibex

The ingredients for a fine Sunday morning

Red Beer. Bloody Beer. Red Eye. Michelada.

It may go by a handful of aliases, but when I was first spied someone in a bar dumping a glass of tomato juice in what appeared to be a perfectly good beer, I was horrified.

First of all, as affable as the gritty character drinking it was("Oh, that's really kind of you, but I have an appointment after this, so I'm going to have to decline your polite invitation to 'burn down a J' in the bar parking lot. Thank you, though!", drinking tomato based alcohol drinks in the evening always seemed kind of out of place in the cold, dim lighting of a divier establishment.

Secondly, why would one pollute what appears to be at least a reasonably refreshing beer with a can of Campbell's tomato juice? And furthermore, why would one drink five of these concoctions in a row?

Interestingly, the guy was a fellow Midwestern transplant, so naturally I wondered if this was a regional drink that had escaped me before I moved to Seattle. In the interest of alcoholic anthropology, I sought an expert in the world of Midwestern bar going, my younger sister, then an student at the University of Iowa.

According to her, this was indeed a thing, and it ran from at least Wisconsin to Ohio, but it was definitely viewed as a sort of tailgating restorative, a Budweiser corpse reviver with all of the salt and ethanol that a growing undergrad could need to get back onto their feet to cheer their beloved Hawkeyes(or other Big Ten school) on to victory.

What I did not realize until later, is that our neighbors to the South had been enjoying a similar if not more flavorful with the refreshing additions of lime juice, hot sauce, and some other savory MSG laden wondersauce, be it Maggi, soy, or good old fashioned Worcestershire. This make sense, given that the general blandness of many Mexican lagers make for an excellent blank canvas for a savory, effervescent beer that doesn't feel quite as wrong being drunk before noon.

Which brings me back to the shrub.

There aren't all that many drinks that pop into my mind that use tomato as a main flavor component, and I tackled a new spin on one of them, which led me to wonder if I could bring some of that rich, complex East African spice profile to the beloved red beer.

By heck, I think I may have done just that!

By substituting the very concentrated Elizabeth shrub for your less viscous, run of the mill tomato juice, we bolster the otherwise thin, but extremely clean taste of one's favorite lager with a salvo of savory. The umami punch and inherent heat of this shrub in this drink is so strong, it basically renders the need for additional Worcestershire and hot sauce almost irrelevant.

Which is not to say that you can't put those things in there, because this is your beer, friend! What goes on between a man or a woman and their beer in their kitchen is none of my damn business.

As for the lime: the kid stays in the picture. Lime brings a necessary dose of bright acidity to give this thing some lift. 

One area I did think could use an upgrade, however, was the salted rim. I am actually a huge proponent of people using salt in some drinks as it can really highlight or downplay other flavors. In this case, I felt like coupling the salt with one of the myriad of spices that are actually in berbere, would echo those flavors in a much more vibrant and immediate way.

I chose to make a Coriander salt, which approximates a nice balance of citric pucker with the salinity that gives the entire affair a sense of balance. Other good options if you're not a purist might be smoked paprika salt, or cayenne salt. If you're using African cayenne, please be careful; after putting that against your mouth a few times, the Flaming Lips won't just be a band name any more, but a very unpleasant temporary reality.

Ultimately, I've grown to love Micheladas(except the ones with Clamato, thanks) and their simple, but refreshing permutations and customizable nature. Since we're already playing with flavors, what's a continent or two between friends?

The Bitter Ibex

1-4 oz Elizabeth(to desired strength)
12 oz lager(I have used HUB and Fort George 1811 Lager)
Juice of 1/2 lime
Worcestershire, soy sauce, or Maggi sauce(optional)
Vinegar Based Hot Sauce(optional)
Coriander Salt(for rim)

Place tall glass in freezer until ice cold.

Pour flavored salt onto a plate in an even layer. Wet rim of glass with cut lime, gently roll glass rim in flavored salt.

Pour in desired amount of Elizabeth, followed by the juice of half a lime. If adding hot sauce and or other savory sauce, add it now. Swirl glass gently.

Pour lager into glass from a reasonable height so that the beer begins to mix and slightly agitate the shrub, lime juice, and any other optional ingredients you may have added.

Swirl gently again, and enjoy before beer gets warm.

Coriander Salt

2 parts salt
1 part ground coriander(I like Indian coriander for this, as it's more lemony)

Combine salt and ground coriander and mix together thoroughly.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Jessica Redux: Streamlined and Refined

Bottles of Jessica

Since my return, I have revisited several of the early shrubs once again, not only to finally share the recipes that I wish I had given you in the first place, but also to take a look at some of them in the cold light of day several years on to see if there are things that could be better or different in light of my experiences with the craft in the past several years.

Jessica is a really great example of one that has likely gained the benefit of some good old fashioned hindsight. While I realize that I am known for experimenting with odd flavors in this medium, in the more recent past I have discovered that there is a time and a place for both methods of thinking. Sometimes, you just want to taste the fruit, and having a simple shrub that highlights that is exactly what you want.

In its first incarnation, Jessica was supposed to approximate a peach cobbler by utilizing allspice berries and vanilla along with the earthier undertones of brown sugar. I enjoyed it at the time, but after getting a massive windfall of stellar peaches from an Eastern Washington farm recently, this definitely seemed like a great time to put the less is more practice into action.

Essentially, the base of Jessica is the same: white wine vinegar, brown sugar, and damned ripe peaches. The only difference is the new absence of vanilla and spice.

Is it better? I think so.

The original arrangement definitely evoked exactly the feelings about a peach baked good that I was after, but ultimately with such a great fruit, it occurred to me that this kind of narrowed profile could be cutting me off from other avenues, be it cocktail or cooking.

I am hoping to illustrate later this week just how scaling back to this simplified recipe will allow me to use the shrub in a couple of other ways.

But enough of that. Without further ado, I present the final recipe of Jessica, which I hope you'll enjoy as much as I do.


16 oz Peaches, cut into chunks
13 oz brown sugar
16 oz white wine vinegar

Food scale
Sealable non-reactive container
Muddler or heavy spoon
Strainers of increasing fineness
Large measuring cup
Tea strainer
Funnel(preferably canning funnel)
Sealable glass bottle

Wash peaches and pat dry. Cut into large chunks and set aside.

Put open non-reactive container on scale and use tare function to zero out the reading. Gently drop peach chunks into container until desired weight is reached. Use tare function again.
Pour or spoon brown sugar into container until desired amount is reached. , and using muddler, grind sugar into peaches until a thick, syrupy mixture forms. Seal container and rest mixture in refrigerator for 2-5 hours.
Remove container from refrigerator and unseal. Place on scale, once again using tare function. Add  white wine vinegar to container. Reseal, and place back into refrigerator. Rest jar one week.
After one week, remove container from refrigerator. Arrange strainers in levels of increasing fineness over measuring cup. Strain liquid through strainers, pressing on pulp to express any trapped shrub.
Place funnel in bottle, and situate tea strainer in funnel opening. Pour strained shrub through tea strainer into bottle, and seal bottle.
Refrigerated shrub should last from six months to one year.


Thursday, September 18, 2014

A Little Bit Behind

Good morning.

I always hate to do these placeholder posts, but I also hate leaving people hanging when they might be expecting content, even if it's usually on a weekly basis.

Things have been really busy lately, and part of the reason there have been so few posts lately is that I am currently waiting on a couple of batches of shrub that I think will be really good and should hopefully lead to some good posts in the next week or two which will hopefully include multiple cocktails and another cooking post, which I am really excited to do more of.

In any instance, my apologies for the long delays, and I promise neither I, nor the blog have vanished into the ether again.

In the meantime, as always, I urge readers to leave comments to let me know if there is anything you'd like to see covered or topics you'd be interested in learning more about. Or anything you like or don't like. I love your feedback!

My ultimate goal here is to be a valuable resource for those with an interest in the craft, and I want to do everything I can to spread the word and help as many people embrace this beverage.

In the meantime, keep an eye on this space, and I will be back soon with some interesting stuff.

Thanks for reading!

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

The Hard Stuff: Exsanguination Without Representation

Exsanguination Without Representation

Let's do some word association.

When I say "cocktails with tomato," what is the first phrase that pops into your head?

If you said "Bloody Mary," I'm not surprised.

Given the lack of tomato based cocktails, we are likely hardwired to immediately envision vodka and the Bloody Mary. And why wouldn't we? Other than the mimosa, it's one of the most well known staples of the morning drinking set, and it at least flirts with the idea of mitigating the otherwise deleterious effects of a tall, salt forward glass of "morning sunshine" by throwing a pretty hefty dose of lycopene and vitamin C at you.

Now, I've had some decent Bloodies in my day, and when prepared in a thoughtful, classic manner, they can be an absolute delight if one is enmeshed in that nebulous, but socially acceptable ocassion to drink before noon known as brunch. The problem is, these days Bloody Mary preparation is anything but.

I don't want to go all Embury or anything, but I will say this: rather than a simple blend of savory and tangy flavors, the Bloody Mary has essentially become a sort of farcical wonderland in which otherwise sane people decide to turn their cocktail into either some kind of Dada masterpiece or an opportunity to skewer as many rich, fatty, or outlandish items as they can with a stick, then dropping it into the glass with wild abandon, trying to one-up the guy down the street who tried to stuff a whole braised pork belly in a glass of tomato juice and pepper vodka in the name of "whimsy."

As a countermeasure to this madness, I would like to offer a a different take on this old chestnut that I think not only would work as a brunch drink, but could also reasonably bring a tomato cocktail to a respectable pre-prandial after 5 kind of an affair.

Using a nice smooth bourbon, such as Buffalo Trace as a base, I added a healthy dose of the Elizabeth shrub from last week, and temper it with a small amount of lemon juice for some freshness and levity, and tie the whole thing together with celery bitters, which calls to mind the ubiquitous Bloody Mary stalk that comes to one's mind when they think of the Bloody Mary of old.

That's it.

No bacon, no salad bar, no carefully "house curated Bloody Mary mix", not even Worcerstershire.

The funny thing is, once I tasted this I didn't miss it at all. The berbere, jam packed full of all the umami you could ever want when paired with tomatoes, does all of the heavy lifting in the seasoning department. It is paradoxically so simple but so complex all at the same time, you'll wonder if you've just performed a magic trick. The answer is probably yes, because you've likely made it disappear in a couple of gulps.

A stunning display piece or mixological blank canvas, it is not, but when you want the great tastes of tomato and booze to taste great together, and you want it with a minimum of fussy nonsense, pull one of these together and enjoy.

As for the name of this cocktail, it ties into the name of the shrub which itself is named after Elizabeth Bathory, who supposedly bathed in the blood of a parade of nameless victims in efforts to keep herself youthful. As there were no trials before these young unfortunates were allegedly killed, the first thing that sprang to mind of course was Exsanguination Without Representation.

Exsanguination Without Representation

2 oz bourbon(Buffalo Trace)
.25 oz lemon juice
2 dashes celery bitters

Combine all ingredients.

Shake with ice and strain into Old Fashioned glass with big ice cube or good sized cubes.


Sunday, August 24, 2014

MxMo: The Bankhead and Eddington On The Beach

Hello, welcome to my first nervous foray into the monthly blog party known as Mixology Monday, in which a kind fellow drinks blogger plays willing host to a house full of cocktail creatives and supplies a theme for those folks to riff off of.

After narrowly missing the window for last month's Smash theme, I vowed to jump into August's theme with wild abandon. As it happens, our host this month is Rated R Cocktails with an intriguing theme: coconuts.

As some of my old readers might recall, my last adventure with coconut as a shrub ingredient was equal parts amusing and mediocre, so rather than digging that old skeleton out of the closet, I thought I should perhaps think outside the box.

While coconut immediately lends itself to more traditional uses in cocktails, I knew it would be a challenge to work shrub in somehow. I was stuck until my brilliant wife finally screwed in the light bulb that had been flickering rather dimly over my head.

"Since your pineapple shrub is mostly made up of coconut vinegar, wouldn't that count?"

Why, yes. Yes, it would.

The brand of coconut vinegar that I use is made from the sap of coconut trees, which is aged until it ferments and eventually becomes vinegar over nearly a year's time. What can seem particularly misleading about this type of coconut vinegar is that it smells and tastes almost nothing like coconut, in fact taking on a slightly gamey, fermented note reminiscent of the hogo of some funkier rums.

When mixed with pineapple, habenero and turbinado sugar, the resulting shrub is spicy, sharp, and effectively has an almost butterscotch like funk to it. Here's how to make it.

Don Whoa!
12 oz raw coconut vinegar
4 oz white wine vinegar
16 oz pineapple, roughly chopped
12 oz Sugar In The Raw
1-3 habanero peppers, halved, seeded and membranes removed depending on desired heat level

Cut peppers in half, optionally seeding and removing membranes to reduce heat level. Set aside.

Pour white wine vinegar into Pyrex measuring cup and microwave until hot but not boiling. Gently immerse hot peppers into hot vinegar and cover with lid, plate, cling wrap or other means of holding in heat. 

Agitate gently, and check every 15-20 minutes to see if desired spice level has been reached. Remove peppers and any seeds that may have become loosened during steeping process. Set steeped vinegar aside.

Remove top, bottom, and outer skin of pineapple, slicing into rough chunks, until there are 16 ounces of pineapple chunks. You may macerate the pineapple with 12 ounces of Sugar In The Raw by either placing pineapple and sugar in the jar you will be making shrub in and muddling or using immersion blender until a syrupy pulp forms, or alternatively blending pineapple and raw sugar in Vita-Mix and pouring blended results into the glass jar. In either case, put jar of pineapple/sugar mixture into refrigerator for at least 1 hour, or up to 5.

Remove jar from refrigerator and add both coconut and chile infused white wine vinegar to pineapple/sugar mixture. Agitate vigorously and place back in refrigerator for 1 week.

At the end of one week, place two strainers over a large Pyrex measuring cup. Carefully pour contents from the jar into the strainer, occasionally pausing to press on solids to squeeze out excess liquid. Discard solids. 

To bottle, situate tea strainer in funnel, and gently pour shrub through tea strainer into clean bottle. Refrigerate. Shrub should keep bottled in refrigerator for at least six months and likely up to 1 year or more.

Depending on fruit, may yield 16-24 ounces of shrub.
In any event, it got me thinking about one of the request in this month's MxMo post in which the host mentioned it might be nice to see something done in the pre-prohibition mold. 

I examined the DNA of two well known-ish drinks from drinking's Golden Age that share pineapple juice in common, and figured I would use my Pineapple/Coconut Vinegar shrub to split the difference.

Borrowing the rye and dry vermouth elements from The Algonquin, and maraschino liqueur from the Mary Pickford and a couple of dashes of Regan's Orange bitters for good measure, may I present: The Bankhead, named for actress and Algonquin Round Table member Taullulah Bankhead.

The Bankhead 

1.75 oz rye whiskey(I used Bulleit)
.75 oz Don Whoa!(see above)
.5 oz dry vermouth
.25 oz maraschino liqueur(Luxardo)
2 dashes orange bitters(Regan's No. 6)

Combine ingredients in mixing glass or tin, stir with ice, 

Strain, up, into cocktail glass.

The Bankhead seems to get around one of the complaints I often hear about The Algonquin, which is that it is generally too dry and not particularly worth doing again. However, The Bankhead incorporates this shrub and its wild, rich tangle of sweetness, subtle heat from the pepper, and undefinable but manageable gaminess from the coconut vinegar, which melds very well with the rye and builds a bridge that closes the gap between it and the herbaceous notes of the dry vermouth.

I guess from a more modern standpoint, one might argue this is kind of like a Bensonhurst with a high dose of pineapple shrub in place of Cynar.

As tasty as that is, I kind of feel like I owe everyone something with a more traditional coconut ingredient: coconut milk.

While my first reaction was to think of Pineapples and Coconuts dancing in a conga line or something of the sort, I thought if I am already doing cocktails with shrubs, I had better go for broke and do something really, really crazy. Cacao nib balsamic shrub, anyone?

Before we get to the cocktail, we need to make this shrub, which I have nicknamed Time's Arrow.

Time's Arrow(Cacao nib balsamic shrub)

16 oz Balsamic Vinegar
8 oz cacao nibs
5 oz turbinado sugar
1/2 vanilla bean

In a sealable, non-reactive container, combine cacao nibs, balsamic vinegar, and vanilla bean. 

Store in refrigerator for 2-3 days, then strain solids. Add 5 oz turbinado sugar to mixture, combine stirring until sugar dissolves. Strain shrub into bottles with a canning funnel. 

Refrigerate. Shrub should remain good for 1 year or so.

If you are a fan of dark chocolate, you're going to dig this. The syrupy body and pronounced sharpness of balsamic vinegar coupled with unsweetened cacao nibs give the impression of a very dark high percentage cacao chocolate bar, just barely sweetened with earthy turbinado sugar and a bit of vanilla bean.

Now that you have cacao nib shrub, let's make this cocktail, which I call Eddington On The Beach.

After a few failed attempts with other base spirits, it became apparent that rum was the spirit for the job. Aged rum was a decent choice, but wasn't really clicking with the cacao shrub/coconut milk combination. I needed heavier body, and there are few heavier than our friend Cruzan Black Strap Rum. I needed a couple of other flavors to round things out, so I bought in Amer Picon which has worked well with this cacao nib shrub before matching it in both body and it's complementary orange flavor which would work with both chocolate and coconut. Rounding the whole thing out was a little bit of turbinado simple syrup. Like so:

Eddington On The Beach

2 oz Cruzan Blackstrap Rum
.5 oz Amer Picon
.5 oz Time's Arrow(cacao shrub, see above)
.5 oz turbinado simple syrup
.25 oz coconut milk

Combine ingredients in mixing tin, shake without ice, then with. 

Strain into Old Fashioned glass over rocks

The result was quite nice in a cocktail geek meets tropical dessert drink kind of way. The light hand with the coconut milk got the flavor across without smoothing off the edges of the spirits to the point they were flat, while also blending with the cacao nib shrub and the pitch black rum in a way that reminded me of a Mounds bar if it had a pack of Lucky Strikes rolled up in its wrapper. It was sweet, but not cloying. Smooth, without being boring. One could jazz it up even further if one were inclined with a little bit of Mole bitters or some such thing.

Hell, if you really want to go full vacation mode, you could blend the thing with ice and really go crazy. That said, I think I would recommend the above recipe for weeknights and less whimsical moments. 

As for the name, it is a nod to Arthur Eddington, the British astronomer known for his development of the "Arrow of Time," as well as a jokey take on the pseudo-tiki nature of the drink and a reference to the classic Philip Glass musical piece, "Einstein On the Beach."

I'd like to extend my thanks once more to JFL for hosting this crazy coconut themed shindig and letting me do my inaugural MxMo post on such an interesting and fun topic.