Dark and twisty

There is a scene early in Grey’s Anatomy where Meredith’s friends are trying to explain why she is uniquely qualified to help Iz through grief. Cristina points to Meredith’s mother having Alzheimer’s and the father she doesn’t speak to. Alex adds “the tequila thing” and “the inappropriate men thing.” Together, these things make Meredith “dark and twisty.”

The tequila thing, however, isn’t presented as a response to the dark and twisty. The tequila is part of the dark and twisty. It sits alongside her childhood trauma and complicated sex life as another piece of Meredith Grey lore. This is who she is: brilliant surgeon, abandoned daughter, inappropriate-men chooser, tequila drinker. Meredith’s darkness is an essential part of her identity rather than a condition. And importantly, it is that identity that made her so interesting to viewers. Well, at least to this viewer.

I loved Meredith’s dark and twisty. Maybe, I even admired that about her. Heck, I felt at home in her hardship - even though the specifics of my own life were not at all the same as hers.

Meredith did not have to resolve her struggles before she was allowed to be brilliant. She didn’t have to become cheerful to become desirable. She didn’t have to be emotionally uncomplicated to deserve friendship, professional success, approval, happiness. For a young woman watching television in the late 2000s and early 2010s, there was something liberating about that. Meredith could be difficult, sad, angry, make mistakes and still be the center of the story. She didn’t have to get better before she got to matter.

The catch.

In retrospect, though, I think I absorbed something else along with that lesson. If “dark and twisty” was an identity, then the behaviors associated with it could become identity too. Meredith didn’t just drink tequila when something terrible happened. Tequila was her thing. At least in the early seasons of the show, this was a thesis.

The problem is that when coping mechanisms are framed as personality, it becomes harder to recognize them for what they are. Meredith’s drinking rarely registered to me as something worth questioning. I wasn’t watching a woman use alcohol to manage difficult emotions. I was watching Meredith be Meredith. And I love(d) Meredith.

Pick me. Choose me. Love me.

Meredith spends so much of the early series insisting that she doesn’t need anyone. She is dark and twisty. She has inappropriate sex, she has abandonment issues she jokes about before anyone else gets the opportunity to point them out, she is cool because she appears to need very little from anyone.

“Pick me. Choose me. Love me.” became one of the defining lines of the series. She stands in front of Derek and asks him to choose her. It is painfully vulnerable precisely because it violates the rules Meredith seems to have established for herself. She does care. She does want something. She can want a man who might not want her back.In some ways, I think that is why so many love Meredith as a character. The dark and twisty cool girl and the woman begging to be loved are the same person.

At the same time, I think that tension lands interestingly for girls who grew up watching women trip over that tight rope everyday. A particular kind of womanhood was being sold to girls my age: be independent, but still desirable. Be ambitious, but don’t seem desperate for success. Have feelings, but don’t be too emotional. Want love, but don’t need it. Have sex. Have a career. Have trauma if it makes you more interesting, but don’t inconvenience anyone with those troubles at the wrong time. And if you do need something, whether help, advice, or a break? Maybe pour a drink first and see if that helps.

For Meredith, tequila, as a prop, softened that contradiction. Drinking can communicate pain without requiring the indignity of actually saying I am in pain. It can communicate devastation without coming off as needy. It could suggest struggle without meaning Meredith needed to ask for help. It could show she was dark and twisty so Shonda didn’t have to tell us.

On being fine.

The thing about Meredith Grey is that she functions. She’s extraordinary. Isn’t that one of the ultimate full circle moments of the show? Meredith becomes an extraordinary surgeon.

When I was young and had limited exposure to problematic drinking behaviors, I understood problematic drinking almost entirely through consequences. Someone with a drinking problem loses their job, their relationship, their money, their health, their dignity…their ability to get up the next morning and get to work.

What I watched in Meredith was different. She could drink too much, make a questionable decision, wake up, put on scrubs and go save somebody’s life. From the outside, she seemed fine.

But that distinction shaped my definition of fine more than I realized. Fine didn’t have to mean happy. Fine didn’t have to mean emotionally healthy, well-rested, or coping particularly well. Fine could mean you simply went to work. You answered the emails. You met the deadline. You did what everybody expected you to do. You went through the motions. And if you could do all of that, how bad could your drinking really be?

The message I was learning from her was that functioning was evidence that those consequences did not apply to me, because like Meredith, if you can have a terrible night as long but you still have a productive morning? You’re fine.

On Richard Webber*

Now, at this point, I should pause and say Meredith is not the only character who uses alcohol on the show. It’s hard to focus in on Meredith without considering her in the context of the other characters struggling addiction like Thatcher, Richard, and Amelia.

It’s hard not to view how Meredith is presented as intentional when we know that Grey’s Anatomy absolutely knows what alcoholism looks like. For example, when Richard relapses, the narrative language changes. His drinking becomes secretive. Joe knows his “club soda” means vodka and asks for his keys. He makes mistakes at work. People notice. People worry. His ability to practice medicine becomes part of the stakes. He experiences consequences. With Richard, we’re given cues for how to interpret what we’re seeing, but with Meredith, alcohol is more of a characterization. She has “the tequila thing.” She drinks with Cristina. She goes to Joe’s. Sometimes something messy happens, and then the story moves on.

I don’t need to diagnose Meredith Grey to find that distinction interesting. Frankly, I don’t think the question is whether Meredith would have met some diagnostic threshold for alcohol use disorder. The question is why I learned to recognize Richard’s drinking as dangerous while internalizing Meredith’s drinking as…a sign of strength and resilience…? Evidence that success requires sacrifice…? A challenge to see what I was capable of too…?.

*& we’re gonna have to dig into the intersections of gender & race across substance use in Grey’s but that’s probably a whole other essay.

Wine women and tequila women.

Maybe the answer has something to do with the kind of woman I - and an entire generation of women - were being taught to become.

Let’s think across shows for a minute. On Scandal, Olivia Pope had Bordeaux.Olivia’s wine was enormous glass, beautiful apartment, expensive sweater, finally-home-after-saving-the-republic drinking. Meredith Grey had tequila. Meredith’s tequila was straight from the bottle, scrubs, sex, bad decisions, friendship, trauma, we-survived-another-day drinking.

Olivia’s drink said: I earned this. Meredith’s said: You would drink too if you had my life. One was polished. One was messy. Olivia showed me was aspirational control, but Meredith showed me desperate resilience.

Together, their framing offered a remarkably convenient answer to the same question confronting a generation of young women: What are you supposed to do with the exhaustion of becoming everything you were told you could become?

“How-to-be-a-woman” in the early oughts came with a strange set of instructions. We could have careers. We could have sex. We could make money. We could be ambitious. We could choose men or not choose men. We could be Olivia Pope in the white hat or Meredith Grey in the scrubs. But we were also supposed to make all of that look manageable.

I understand that part differently now. It was never going to be enough to have it all. If you wanted to actually get their approval, you’d have to do it without appearing overwhelmed by all of it. The drink helped complete the illusion - not only from the outside looking in, but from the inside looking out.

So easily we were/are mollified by the bottle. So easily we are/were tricked.

Season finale

And remember, I don’t think Meredith Grey taught me to drink. Just like I don’t think Olivia Pope taught me to value a red wine on a weeknight more than a good night’s sleep. Television isn’t that simple, and neither are we. But I do think watching these women taught me what drinking was for.

That is what feels so strange about returning to Grey’s Anatomy now. The same fictional universe taught me so many sophisticated lessons about addiction (and so much more), also centered a protagonist whose alcohol-centered coping went unquestioned. It took me much longer to realize I’d learned to extend myself the same courtesy.

On re-vision:

The act of looking back, of seeing with fresh eyes, of entering an old text with a new critical direction (Adrienne Rich, 1972).

Is this a hot take? I firmly believe people are committing to fall far too soon these days. August and September are beautiful months for lingering, savoring, and letting things settle—warm enough to sit outside, but without quite as much heat, humidity, or insects.

So, if you’re not yet ready to surrender to pumpkin spice and decorative gourds, these are the alcohol-removed wines I’d be stocking this next month.

First up is Sovi’s Wild Child, a bright and bubbly sparkling orange wine. The color is gorgeous, the bubbles and notes of melon keep things summery, and the orange hue gently acknowledges that fall will eventually arrive, whether we invite it or not.

Next is the Studio Null Prickly Red. It’s a prickly little wine—not aggressively sparkling, but effervescent enough to keep things interesting. It’s a dry blend of Tempranillo and Syrah. Served chilled, it has a juicy quality without tasting like juice (which for the non-alc wines, is a really important distinction). It’s easy, refreshing, and worth keeping on your radar.

Another Sovi wine I really like is the Rosé of Pinot Noir. It’s a little older (and therefore a bit harder to find) but there’s something genuinely interesting about a rosé that still tastes unmistakably like Pinot Noir. It’s wonderfully done, hitting that lightness of a rose from summer, while hinting at the darker, dryer flavors of fall.

At this point I feel like I should note….I did not expect this list to become a Sovi advertisement. That was not the plan. And yet, here we are. One more from Sovi coming right up:

Sovi’s canned sparkling white is also very fun. The bubbles and notes of lemon oil keep it bright and crisp! It has strong notes of yellow apple, a flavor that I associate with early fall and that brief transition when summer owns the day and autumn owns the night.

If you can find the REWINE Malbec Rosé, I’d also recommend giving it a try. There’s something about a rosé made from Malbec that lands perfectly between the seasons: still refreshing enough for summer, but with plenty of depth from the red berry and citrus notes. In my opinion, a subtle sweetness makes this one great for sipping.

In the nonalcoholic category, I’ve been especially impressed with BOLLE still Chardonnay. It’s my opinion that some NA Chardonnays (especially the oaky notes) can taste oddly artificial—Ariel, for example, has never quite worked for me—but BOLLE avoids that problem entirely. I noticed the stone fruit notes primarily, and it had a good weight to it, too. It’s also very low in sugar! There’s something about it that just feels very elevated. It feels like a bottle you’d want to slow down and savor (but maybe not even share), which is really what the slow death of summer is all about.

Then there’s the Zeronimo Leonis Blend, which is among the nonalcoholic reds that immediately impressed me. It behaves like a serious red wine. The old world wine is dry, structured, and layered, with dark cherry and blackberry alongside earthier notes of fig leaf, wood and forest floor flavors, and bitter chocolate. This is the bottle to pair with your garden tomato-heavy pasta, or the first evening cool enough to think about making a bonfire. Decant it, serve it slightly cool, and give it time to open up. This is not a casual little glass of juice masquerading to be wine.

Finally, Dry Wit’s Bruce is not technically wine, but it deserves a place here anyway. Made with bay-leaf tea, verjus, cherry juice, and apple cider vinegar, it has structured tannins, bright acidity, warm spice, and a peppery finish. It’s savory, complex, and just eccentric enough to be interesting—the beverage equivalent of someone wearing an excellent coat slightly before the weather justifies it. The color looks like a sunset and a bit of salt makes you reminisce about the ocean. Pour it with roasted mushrooms, smoked foods, good chocolate, or anything that makes the kitchen smell as though you have been cooking all day.

I must admit that there really is a particular magic to these in-between weeks, when the days still ask for something cold and bright but the evenings invite something a little more cozy. The dog days of summer are not meant to be endured. These days deserve to be savored in their own right. Whether it’s the late sunsets, trying to keep up with the last of the the garden tomatoes, the excitement that its finally cool enough for a bonfire at night, I love appreciating all the small signs of one season slowly loosening its grip and another starting to bloom.

So pour something that belongs to this special moment…to BOTH seasons. The decorative gourds will still be there when you’re ready.

A few weeks ago, I found a ghost in my google drive.

It was one of those algorithmic resurrections our phones perform without asking permission: a video from the summer of 2017. There I was, twenty-three years old, preserved in pixels, reading a poem I had written and never shared. A poem that I did, however, definitely remember.

With chills, I pressed play and then I heard myself say it.

“You’ll get used to the sting.”

I have to say, it is unsettling about hearing your younger self say something your older self has only recently begun to understand.

I watched the video again.

Twenty-three-year-old me was writing about alcohol. Or at least I thought she was. Dry wine, tequila, and the strange adult ritual of consuming something that burns and being assured that eventually you’ll develop a taste for it. Like how you “get used” to black coffee, that discomfort was part of the experience. That sophistication required acclimation.

“You’ll get used to the sting.”

And apparently, even then, I had questions.

An Acquired Taste

Looking back on that summer now, I realize alcohol wasn’t the only thing I was learning to swallow.

It was 2017, and I was ambitious in the uncomplicated way you can only be before ambition has had enough time to collect interest. I knew how to work. I knew how to win. More importantly, I knew how to be good. Good student. Good employee. Good daughter. Good person to have on your team. Give me a rubric, a deadline, an unreasonable expectation dressed up as an opportunity for growth, and I would find a way to exceed it.

I had spent most of my life being told I was impressive. I had also spent most of my life making damn sure no one had a reason to stop saying it. And when I wasn’t worrying about those two? I was huddled in the back of my brain, fearful that everyone would find out I was a goddamned fraud.

There is a piece of paper taped to the bookshelf in my office now. It has survived moves, jobs, degrees, and several versions of the woman sitting beneath it. It reads:

I have high expectations, and I’m confident you can reach them.

I have kept it for years.

At twenty-three, that sentence sounded like a compliment. At thirty-two, I read it differently.

No, I don’t suddenly believe expectations are bad. I don’t. I like excellence. I like being good at things. I’m addicted to the satisfaction of doing something difficult and knowing I did it well. I am not interested in pathologizing my ambition simply because I now understand its cost.

But there is a double bind hidden inside being a woman.

Be ambitious, but not ruthless. Confident, but not arrogant. Accomplished, but approachable. Have standards, but don’t be difficult. Want the promotion, but remain grateful. Be exceptional, but make your exceptionality look effortless. And whatever you do, don’t look angry. Don’t let them know that the double bind has well - bound - you.

I was angry. So angry…I just didn’t know it yet.

Or maybe that isn’t entirely true. Apparently, in the summer of 2017, I wrote a poem about learning to enjoy things that hurt. I wrote it about wine, but it wasn’t just about wine.

It’s clear that even then, I had enough sense to fear how she was coping with her ambition. Certainly not the way I understand it now. She didn’t know where all that ambition would take her. She didn’t know how many battles she would win or how quickly one victory would become the expectation for the next. She didn’t know how she’d avoid the people - burn bridges even - who knew she was flawed. She didn’t know that being capable has a peculiar consequence: people begin to believe your capacity is infinite. She didn’t know that she’s struggle for years to measure her worth outside of a grade or an “exceeds expectations” or that most of the expectations she placed on herself were rooted in a fear of failure, a fear of being “found out”, a deep, unexplainable shame.

Top Shelf

Alcohol taught me that a burn could become pleasurable through repetition. Like alcohol, ambition burns too. Except, ambition taught me something more dangerous: a burn could become defining.

Exhaustion meant I was working hard enough. Pop. Anxiety meant I cared. Pour. Pressure meant someone trusted me. Fizz. Overextension meant I was important. Clink. And praise, like a good garnish, made all of it go down easier.

Someone would tell me I had done exceptional work and suddenly the discomfort had a purpose. Compliments became proof of concept. Whatever this way of living was doing to me, clearly it was working.

So I kept drinking from both glasses: One filled with expectations, achievement, and praise. And another filled with bottom shelf Malbec (dear god). And wouldn’t you know, soon that glass of red was just as defining.

It became a part of how I defined myself and how I wanted others to see me. She can handle all of this and still has time to relax with a glass of wine? Nice.

Have Another Round

I look at the woman in that old Google Photos video now and want to ask her when she first learned that discomfort was evidence of becoming.

When did ambition become something women were supposed to acquire a taste for? Because female ambition has always come with remarkably sophisticated packaging. Bottle it. Brand it. Cork it. Sell it back to us as empowerment. Tell us we can have everything, provided we develop an appetite for the exhaustion required to maintain it, provided we mask that exhaustion, provided we never put the glass down. Tell us the bitterness means we have sophisticated taste. Tell us the burn means it’s strong. Tell me the burn means I’m strong. Tell us having it all tastes better on the rocks.

You’ll get used to the sting.

And I did. I got so used to discomfort that I stopped recognizing it as discomfort. I called it discipline. I got so used to wine, I stop calling it relaxation and started calling it necessary.

And I was rewarded for it. That’s the uncomfortable truth…and the part that makes me angriest, looking back. This strategy did not fail me. It worked. It worked extraordinarily well…until it didn’t.

The Aftertaste

Three and a half years ago, I fought the biggest battle of them all. I put down the glass. The harder thing to put down was the belief that everything worth having had to hurt first. I wish I could say that was the end of the story. But sobriety has a way of clearing the table. Once the alcohol was gone, I could finally see everything else I had been consuming in its place: praise, achievement, impossible expectations, the accomplishment that just might finally make me feel like I had done enough.

The piece of paper is still taped to my bookshelf.

I have high expectations, and I’m confident you can reach them. I still like that sentence and maybe I always will. I am proud of the woman who reached and reaches. Sobriety did not cure me of ambition and I don’t want it to. What I am working to cure is the belief that ambition must be punitive to matter.

I am watching the video again and there she is. Twenty-three, wondering why does “having it all” so often comes “on the rocks”? I wrote “you’ll get used to the string”. I was right. I just needed a decade to realize that acquiring a taste for something is not the same thing as wanting it.

“BREWED LIKE A TEA. DRINKS LIKE A RED.”

Seraphim social beverages will have you believing in non-alc red wine again.

Now, before I get too into this, I just want to say… I actually love the non-alc red wine category. I think there are some GREAT options. If you’ve tried one or two alcohol-removed red wines and have left disappointed…please don’t give up! I promise there are plenty of options out there for you. Trust me, I’ve had a lot of trial and error.

Seraphim Cacao Smooth boasts an impressively smooth, rich, and full-bodied experience. The ripe berry flavors pair beautifully with subtle notes of dark chocolate, giving it the depth and complexity of a red wine without the alcohol. I especially enjoyed that it isn’t overly sweet (as usual). The oat extract is also a thoughtful addition, designed to support a sense of calm and relaxation.

Seraphim Cassia is the brighter, more vibrant of the two. Tart berries come through first, followed by warm hints of cinnamon and spice. The elderberry extract adds another interesting dimension, making this feel like more than just a non-alcoholic beverage.

I let both of them sit on my tongue, savoring the depth of flavor. I could imagine them both as easy fall spritzes, when it is still hot enough to be wanting a spritz, but the colors are starting to change into fall.

What impressed me most about both is the attention to ingredients. They’re vegan, gluten-free, made with premium plant ingredients, and contain no added sugars, artificial flavors, colors, or preservatives.

If you enjoy sophisticated, botanical-forward drinks, these are worth trying. Cacao Smooth is the pick for something deep, mellow, and luxurious, while Cassia is ideal when you want something bright, tart, and spiced. The feeling these evoke is one of reassurance. The founder, Stephanie, says the name is meant to evoke protection, guidance, and positive energy.

Both taste good enough to earn the ritual you’re craving.

Of course, we’re all familiar with the refrain: “mocktails just taste like juice”. If you’re like me and desperately trying to prove to all of her friends, family, acquaintances, work colleagues, and even enemies that this is simply not true, then you might be on the hunt for some savory sippers to round out your summer. These would be impressive in the afternoon to quench thirst or equally impressive at aperitivo hour.

Green Tomato Lemonade

Green tomato + Lemon Juice + Salt + Sugar

Salt pulls the umami of the tomato out, while the green of the tomato adds distinct sour, vegetal notes. Lemon and sugar keep it classic. Ultimately just a refreshing delight of a savory drink! Inspired by @BabyHandsBakes on instagram.

Ghia Martini

Ghia Aperitif + Gorgonzola Olive Brine + Salt + Dash of simple

The weird one, in the best way. Ghia brings bitterness and botanicals, but the Gorgonzola olive brine is what makes this feel like a proper cocktail rather than a substitute for one. It’s funky. Don’t skip the simple, because the dash helps round out the botanicals from the ghia smoothing out the final product.

Saffron Spritz

Saffron Tea + Lemon Juice + Club Soda + Basil

Complex without needing to rely on bitterness, thanks to the saffron! Floral, earthy, and mysterious - leaving guests wondering what exactly is even in this?! Plus, the color is beautiful. This one is ready for your next dinner party.

Club Soda Dirty Martini

Olive Brine + Lemon Juice + Club Soda + Stuffed Olives

We all were only enjoying martinis for the olives, right? Briny, salty, cold, and aggressively savory. The lemon works wonders to brighten the drink and keep the olive brine from becoming overwhelming. Club soda obviously means it won’t recreate the texture of a traditional martini, but the bubbles to replicate that burny bite. Plus, that’s almost beside the point: it scratches the very cold, very dirty itch. Feeling adventurous? Swap the club soda for a Fruitbelt Apple Tonic to flirt with a little something sweet.

Bufala Negra

Balsamic Glaze + Basil + Zero Proof Gin (I prefer Cut Above) + Tonic

A homage to one of my favorite college dive bars. The acidity and sweetness give zero-proof gin some of weight, while basil makes the whole thing taste fresh rather than heavy. Tonic adds bitterness, ensuring it does NOT taste like drinking salad dressing and lengthens the drink into something surprisingly refreshing. Just unusual enough that people will ask what’s in it.

Fernandito

The Pathfinder or Saint Heck Fernot + Coke + Lemon

This is the zero-proof version of an Argentinian classic, and maybe the easiest transition for someone who thinks mocktails are too sweet. The bitter, herbal Fernet keeps the Coke from reading as just soda, while lemon sharpens everything up. It’s dark, bitter, and medicinal, but still sweet. A perfectly sippable combination.

Looking for an exact recipe? Let me know which one in the comments & it is yours <3

Leave a comment

A few weeks ago, I was visiting Austin, Texas and found my way to Sans Bar, a non-alcoholic establishment downtown. I was speaking to the owner, Chris, and we were talking about the need for there to be a few more honest takes about alcohol-free options out there. While we want to support the growth of the industry, we also need to be honest about what drinks we like….AND what drinks we don’t.

So here goes:

For a while, Crodino was elusive and mysterious. People were excited about the launch on the internet. My bosses said it was hard to get in contact with their US distributors.

I looked online. I thought - that’s beautiful branding. It’s a beautiful yellow orange. I love that color. How nice to have another aperitif style drink growing in popularity that isn’t an NA aperol spritz or a Nogroni. Surely it will be delicious.

Years passed. I finally found a Crodino hours from home, at the Applejacks in Wheat Ridge, outside of Denver.

I saved it for a special occasion and finally tasted it.

Turns out? It was an immediate no for me. What hit me first was the artificial orange. Immediately followed by a distinct stevia taste that really surprised me in this kind of bev.

What did I love? Well, I’m a sucker for that bottle shape. It’s fun and unique and once the label is washed off, can be repurposed for a cutie vase.

It’s easy to get behind fads. I easily believed Crodino was going to be one of the next big drinks before I tried it. You think everyone is talking about something and therefore it must be good, but talk is attention, not quality. Especially in this economic context where/when you choose to spend your money has financial and social implications, it can be so disappointing when you pay good money for something and then end up feeling meh - or worse disgusted - by the drink. Of course, I’m all about trying before you buy (and if you’re local to Indy and curious what that means, let’s chat!), but if you can’t try or you’re just curious, here are a few others that failed me:

Noot (all flavors)

Functional ingredients complicate the taste in bad ways. Did not enjoy the way the functional flavors played with the Erythritol, their chosen sweetener. Taken together, this means I wouldn’t recommend these to even my enemies. I’m choosing to believe I might like their spirits better!

Ritual Ready to Drink Margarita

Conspicuous “heat/bite” translated into artificial tastes instead of relying on fresh lime and spice to create the flavor we know and love. This was especially disappointing because I think that Ritual’s zero proof tequila is one of the best, most versatile spirits out there.

Beckets Mixed Drink Ready to Drinks:

Stevia flavors were so strong, across each of the cans, that the underlying flavors never really made it to my mouth. Can’t bring myself to try the last one on my shelf: the G&T, simply because I know I won’t enjoy it.

Plaid Circus Plaidhattan:

So intrigued by this Kentucky-based non-alcoholic spirit. Their products have naturally functional ingredients, but they’re not necessarily marketing for functional feelings. They’re focused on great flavors, bolstered by tea. The Plaidhattan is one of their award winning options, built on a foundation of lapsang souchong. Tasting notes are described as: clove, cinnamon bark, wildflower honey, bitter and herbal with orange peel and rose petal aromatics. Searching for those notes, I have to say… all I tasted was something like worcestershire and sherry vinegar.. I’ll save my review of my favorite of their line (Kimona Dragon!) for another day.

The whole Mingle Mood line:

I love the original Mingle read to drink line. For the range of flavors and options, I very rarely leave a can feeling like the drink was too sweet or too artificial tasting. Plus, I like their use of cane sugar and minimal additives. Pineapple Paloma tops my list of RTDs almost any day. So what’s wrong with the Mingle Mood line? None of the flavors are as good as their original. I’ve tried all four of them. Citius Spritz lacked the classic bite you’d expect. Spicy Margarita carried very little spice in the taste. Watermelon Marg tasted like bubblegum, not fresh watermelon. Perhaps adding in the functional ingredients altered their ability to deliver purely on taste.

Given all of this, I wrap up with one reminder? What I hate, you might love. What I love, you might hate. We’re not a monolith. Take all reviews with a grain of salt and keep an open mind always.

I’ve always been someone who didn’t need a recipe to get started (unless it’s baking, don’t come for me). It aligns with my relatively type b personality and adhd brain to just get started and see where it ends. For example, I was in charge of dinner last Wednesday. I went into the kitchen with no plan and came out 20 mins later with a roasted broccoli pasta with a basil cream sauce thickened with tofu. I thrive without boundaries.

I love the audacity to try making drinks at home when you don’t have a recipe. All I had was a corn cob and a dream.

And look, I know it’s not for everyone - and I’m getting to the recipe, don’t worry - but the best advice I can give you is try. Once a week make something out of nothing, in the kitchen, at the bar, at the craft table, online. In a world focused on consuming, protect your moment or making. In the kitchen and at the bar? It gets easier the more you practice.

Adventurous, “out there” zero proof cocktails are so fun! Yes, there’s beauty in simplicity, but I love the audacity to combine without apology. This zero proof cocktail, built around Pathfinder, is exactly that kind of adventure.

The original

Now, to be fair, this is a take on a zero proof cocktail that I’d had before at Williams & Graham in Denver, CO. It was a hot July day and we were three mocktails deep by 6:30 pm. I closed out with this one and I was so happy I did.

I get a little sick of the ideas for how to use Pathfinder because I think it’s a crazy unique spirit and it’s usually presented in a relatively normal way. And, being from Iowa, I think corn should be in everything. Plus, corn milk is brilliant - it sweetens and thickens up the milk without you needing to add simple or another sweetening agent.

The remake

• 1 ear of fresh corn, blended with milk, strained, and chilled — about 3 oz per drink

• 1 tbsp cacao, sifted into your shaker (I’m using a functional cacao blend from @dirteaworld)

• 2 oz @drinkthepathfinder

• Crushed ice

• Fresh mint, for garnish

Blend the corn with milk until smooth, then strain well and chill. You’ll use about 3 oz of the corn milk for each drink.

Add the chilled corn milk, sifted cacao, and Pathfinder to a shaker. Add ice and shake well.

Pour over crushed ice in a rocks glass, then finish with a generous sprig of fresh mint.

And here’s the part I don’t want you to skip: the texture and aroma are part of the flavor. Those little chips of crushed ice hitting your teeth as you sip, paired with that burst of fresh mint right under your nose, completely changes the experience of the drink.

Spouse says this was the second best zero proof cocktail I’d ever made. Gold star to me.

If this one intrigues you, share it with a friend:

Share

Olivia had everything. She had a perfect apartment, a matching coat for every outfit, her feet never seemed to get tired despite the fact that she was traipsing around DC all day, and her clothes never seemed to have wrinkles. She was brilliant, and powerful, and indispensable. Men loved her. Women wanted to be her. Standing between two very attractive - albeit unavailable - men, she was everything 18-yr old me thought success looks like.

Do you remember the “starter pack” trend? It was funny and played on stereotypes, but the “starter pack” trend gets one thing right about how young brains work. We see the world as it is presented to us. So what does success look like? Nice outfit + nice boyfriend + popcorn for dinner + wine to wash it down + a nice cashmere sweater. Olivia’s choice to - frequently - drink bordeaux and eat popcorn alone ultimately was a behavior felt normal instead of noteworthy. Viewers didn’t understand this ritual to be a special circumstance, but a habit. So here I was, age 20, realizing Shonda was literally laying out the formula for my fourth-wave, post-feminism, successful-woman American dream. I knew what had to be in my starter pack because I wanted to be something like Olivia.

And so it goes, I turned 21 with one resounding perspective: that wine was just part of the successful-woman package. When I came home after an impossible day - heck, after any day really, a glass of wine was the solution. By the time I was 24 it wasn’t an impossible day activity, it was an every day activity.

Unwinding instead of coping

Was this tension between unwinding versus coping, avoiding, or retreating even the lesson Shonda was trying to help us understand through Olivia? Looking back, I’m not sure. It’s been a while since I did a full rewatch. Even if Shonda was using Olivia’s night time routine to point out she wasn’t perfect, that a critique of Olivia’s life is absolutely not the message I was getting. At 20, I didn’t even know whether I was unwinding or coping was a question I could ask. At 24, I couldn’t recognize the distinction. By 27, I’d fully mistaken one for the other.

On “having it all”

I grew up in the late 90s, early 2000s. If you did too, you might now realize the “post-feminism” sold to us as the “real world” was largely untrue (for many, many reasons).

The implicit message was that women won and that we could do everything now? But the pressure to have it all and look good doing it was real when I was growing up. For me, looking good doing it wasn’t so much as having perfect hair or the right outfit (although) that too, but to look like you aren’t bothered by the “all” of it, to look like you can relax when the day is done, to look like you can handle your work and your alcohol. What I saw on Scandal was echoed in my real life: I saw hard working women saving the day at work and at home…and so many of them were doing it with the camille 23 ounce long-stemmed wine glass from Crate and Barrel. I know I’m not alone, because consumer behavior surrounding Olivia Pope’s distinct wine glass has literally been studied.

By 28, I don’t think my friends were remarking about my success. I think they were wondering Is she okay? By then, I’d learned that alcohol doesn’t necessarily make adulthood easier. But, I also felt like trying to “have it all” was really fucking hard. It didn’t seem like an option not to drink. Especially as the external/economic contexts around me were changing. Eventually, I had to accept that some things that are framed as self-care simply aren’t. By finishing the bottle today, I was actually making tomorrow harder.

And I want to be clear. I loved Scandal. I love Scandal. One of the best parts about the streaming era is how easy it is to return to shows you used to love and consider how your perspective changed as you reconsider the messages the show is sending. I don’t believe it was Shonda’s intent to suggest that red wine equals success. In fact, Shonda writes struggles with alcohol quite well (we’ll have to dig into Richard, Meredith, Amelia, & Annalise a different time). It’s just that - at my young age - the repetition and normalization of Olivia’s ritual taught me something it was never supposed to.

So yes, maybe Olivia Pope ruined me a little. Or perhaps she just gave shape to something I was already primed to believe: that a woman who is smart, desirable, and relentlessly competent can - no should - also pour herself a giant glass of red wine at the end of the day.

One note: This is my half-baked hot take about my actual life perspective in my 20s. It’s not a comprehensive, holistic, or frankly intersectional review of how Olivia showed up on screen and how fans reacted to her. Looking for more critical engagement on Olivia? Check out Rachel Griffin’s Olivia Pope as Problematic and Paradoxical in Feminist Theory and Pop Culture: Second Edition.

Enter: Sauna Water. I first tried it last summer when I found it at a liquor store in Duluth. On the first sip, I knew I had found something special.

Originally crafted as a spa and sauna beverage, their original flavor, Nordic Spruce tastes like winter camping in the boundary waters. Which is great, since that is exactly where the Spruce Tips, Cardamom, Juniper, & Lemon drink was originally conceptualized.

Sauna Water is the only sparkling water in the last year that has truly made me feel like I’m drinking something new, interesting, and innovative. It’s fresh, unique, and there’s nothing else like it. It’s worth an order online if you aren’t in the Minneapolis area.

Haven’t tried them yet, but eagerly chilling their two new flavors (Forest Fields and Superior Coast) in my bevvie fridge.