Tequila Mockingbird (10 page)

Uh-oh. Your turn to host that well-intentioned book club again? Worried your idea of literature (Nicholas Sparks) might not live up to the group's (
Nicholas Nickleby
)? Relax. Any of the following time-tested classics should inspire both a hot debate and a cool drink. Hell, die-hard Dewey decimal devotees can
always
benefit from a little loosening up come critique time. After all, a party can only stay seated for so long.

I
t ain't about censorship, kids! Bradbury's then-futuristic
Fahrenheit 451
(the temperature at which a book burns) is about a
truly unthinkable
society in which technology reigns supreme and books go bye-bye. Written in the fifties but ringing eerily true today,
Fahrenheit
's world stars firemen who
start
the flames, setting the written word afire and sniffing out pesky, law-breaking readers. Serve up a burning-hot party drink to toast the peerless printed page—hey, you don't wanna spill rum on a Kindle. Soon as this one's ready to serve, disconnect the crock pot (and all your iGadgets) and reconnect with your party.

MAKES ABOUT 10 DRINKS

6 cups apple cider

1 cup cranberry juice

1 cup orange juice

1 cup pineapple juice

6 cloves

4 cinnamon sticks

8 ounces rum (like Bacardi 151)

Pour the ingredients, except the rum, into a crock pot. Warm for approximately 1 hour, or until heated through.
After
everyone has turned in their cell phones, unplug the pot and add the rum. Give it a stir and ladle away.

W
hen Margaret Mitchell proclaimed that
Wind
was a story of survival, she was likely referring to her heroine, Scarlett O'Hara, who starts off a southern belle and ends up losing the hoop skirt to scavenge for food. You'll call yourself a survivor, too, when you get through the thousand-odd pages. A Pulitzer winner for the plucky Mitchell—her
second
marriage was to the best man at her
first
wedding—
Wind
is an enduring moneymaker. Gather a group, skip the movie, scour the book, and cool off a boiling discussion with this sangria: red as the earth of Tara and packed with proper Georgia peaches.

MAKES ABOUT 6 DRINKS

1 bottle red wine (about 3 cups)

2 ounces peach brandy

2 tablespoons sugar

1 peach, chopped into cute little squares

1 orange, cut into bite-size wedges

2½ cups ginger ale, chilled

Pour the wine, brandy, sugar, and fruits into a large pitcher and stir. Place the pitcher in the fridge and allow to infuse for at least an hour. When guests need a break—you'll know, because somebody will refer to Ashley as a girl;
this person did not read the book
—top the pitcher off with ginger ale and serve over ample ice. It's cool-down time.

T
he most celebrated work by a legendarily reclusive author,
The Catcher in the Rye
spoke directly to the disenchanted, angsty youth of the fifties—and still echoes vibrantly to first-time novelists who pray their coming-of-age protagonist will be favorably compared to Holden Caulfield. Narrating from a mental ward, Caulfield colorfully recounts his times in and out of prep school, chasing (and getting rebuffed by) prostitutes, while gaining bloody noses, enemies, and overnights on train station benches. Throw together a traditional Christmas punch for an untraditional Christmas story: much of
Catcher
takes place at the holidays, and this one ought to lift the spirits of your crankiest elf.

MAKES ABOUT 8 DRINKS

½ bottle (about 1½ cups) rye whiskey

4 ounces pineapple juice

2 ounces lemon juice

1 liter ginger beer

Add the whiskey and juices to a punch bowl with a big ol' hunk of ice (
page 7
). Stir in the ginger beer and gather your pals. Time to chase those blues away.

P
ro-tip: “Elementary, my dear Watson” was never
exactly
spoken by Sherlock Holmes. Conan Doyle's beloved sleuth appeared on the big screen saying that phrase, but not on the page; he was too busy being the only detective who could crack a case from the comfort of his armchair. We take a tip from a lesser-known story that appeared alongside twelve others in a blazingly popular magazine series: raise a glass to “The Blue Carbuncle,” a Holmes whodunit involving a goose with a very expensive gem lodged very inconveniently in its neck. After you trade jewels for berries, the only remaining mystery will be why you've never made this party pleaser before.

MAKES ABOUT 10 DRINKS

1 quart berry sherbet

1 bottle (about 3 cups) Champagne, chilled

1 liter ginger ale

½ cup fresh blueberries, washed, for garnish

Empty the sherbet into a punch bowl and pour the Champagne and ginger ale on top. Float the blueberries and serve. Don't leave the room for long—you'll return to a fast-empty bowl and a classic whodrunkit.

B
oy, did this book have it all: knife fights, magic paintings, and (spoiler alert!) people who never age. Wilde wasn't just ahead of the cosmetic surgery boom here—he also pushed the envelope on homoeroticism, resulting in widespread censorship in later versions of the book. Try getting your hands on the juicy early copies of
Dorian
, and then gather a group of aging beauty queens (or simply aging queens), who'll be guaranteed to love our hedonistic youth serum. Just keep them away from your expensive art.

MAKES ABOUT 8 DRINKS

10 sprigs fresh mint, washed

1 (12-ounce) can frozen lemonade concentrate

2 cups vodka (like Grey Goose)

Cucumber, sliced into wheels, for garnish

Tear the mint, then place in the pitcher. Add the lemonade concentrate and stir until thawed. Pour in the vodka and 3 cups cold water and stir. Serve over ice, garnish with the cucumber wheels, and remember: age before beauty—if anyone will fess up.

A
woman's liberty is at the pink, beating heart of Henry James's transatlantic novel, one of his finest in a life measured in words rather than women (James was an avowed celibate). Of course, Victorian-era independence is different from Victoria's Secret–era independence, and rather than go sad and single, the heroine chooses the
least
terrible suitor she can find and ends up wealthy, wed—and woeful. Our variation on a classic cocktail is best served to a group of ladies holding out for Mr. Right—or even just plain
right
—no matter how many sweethearts they may have to sift through.

MAKES ABOUT 12 DRINKS

1 liter gin

3 cups pink lemonade

6 ounces grenadine syrup (
page 11
)

1 liter club soda

Combine the ingredients, except the club soda, in a big punch bowl. Show off a little by adding one of those big, glamorous blocks of ice (
page 7
). Stir in the bubbles and sip away the troubles; the grass is always pinker on the other side of this cocktail.

A
h, legacy. If you've heard Grandma tell the story of the first time she ever saw your Pap Pap, huddled with his doofy cadets on the other side of the dance hall, his eyes planted firmly on Grandma's ample bosom . . . come to think of it, Pap Pap was a perv. Point is, Amy Tan's multigenerational Chinese saga—recounted by a veritable family reunion of narrators—is one that anyone with a verbose relative can relate to. Nothing gets a story primed like a pair of loose lips. Pull out those war photos and get busy mixing up this variation on a popular Chinese restaurant standby, sweet as a fortune cookie and twice as lucky.

MAKES ABOUT 4 DRINKS

1½ cups light rum

1½ cups orange juice

½ cup club soda

¼ cup lemon juice

2 ounces brandy

2 ounces orgeat syrup

Add the ingredients, plus two handfuls ice, to a festive bowl. Grab four straws and get gabbing—perhaps finally asking Pap Pap how Grandma got the nickname “Anytime Alice.” Actually . . . perhaps not.