1 cup cognac brandy 45 pieces loaf sugar 50 whole cloves

3 pieces stick cinnamon broken in bits

½orange peel cut thin

1 small piece lemon peel cut thin

1 quart strong New Orleans dripped coffee Combine the ingredients in advance. In a brulot bowl pour a cup (½ pint) of cognac brandy. Add the sugar, cloves, stick of cinnamon broken in bits, thinly cut orange peel, and sliced lemon rind. The mixture should be set to steep for at least six hours in advance of serving time to allow the brandy, spices, and citrus oils to blend. The coffee is prepared sepa­rately and is not mixed with the spiced brandy until serving time. Will serve 20 guests.

A special brulot equipment is required if you are to burn cafe brulot successfully. This equipment con­sists of a specially manufactured bowl of silver on copper, a circular tray, and a long-handled ladle, allof the same metal known as Sheffield. Don't use your wife's silver fruit dish, even though it may resemble a brulot bowl in shape and appearance. We know a man who did this in the absence of the little woman, and rich old Aunt Hattie's wedding gift phiffted into the shape of Aunt Hattie in fewer minutes than it takes to tell. We hesitate to speak of the fiery aftermath when the storm-and-strife returned.

Put the brandy mixture in the bowl, then pour a small portion of alcohol into the circular tray, just enough to sparingly cover the base of the bowl. The dripped coffee, prepared in advance, is brought to the table steaming hot. All lights in the room are extinguished to accent the brulot flames; the alcohol in the tray is touched off with a match and allowed to burn until the contents of the bowl are heated.

Dip up a little of the mixture with the ladle and hold in the flame rising from the tray, then dip ladle in the mixture to hurry the process of ignition. Stir, lifting the ladle high in the air. A ribbon of golden-blue flame follows the motion, and is a sight to goggle the eyes of the uninitiate. Allow to burn only a few moments as too much burning uses up the alcoholic content. Pour in the coffee, slowly and lovingly.

Serve in after-dinner coffee cups. This recipe makes enough to thrill 20 coffee connoisseurs.

Do not attempt to make brulot with ordinary cof­fee. Boiled or percolator coffee will not answer. What is known as French or New Orleans dripped coffee must be used and made very strong. Most New Orleans folk prefer chicory in their coffee; which gives a richer color and heavier flavor. There­fore, for brulot use a coffee-and-chicory brand, such as Luzianne, Union, Chase and Sanborn Louisiana Roast, French Market, Morning Joy, etc.

Put coffee in upper receptacle of a drip coffee pot. Just enough boiling water is poured on to moisten and swell the grains. Add boiling water, a spoonful or two at a time, and repeat at intervals until the quantity desired has "dripped" to the lower container of the coffee pot. To keep contents hot until needed, the pot may be set in a pan of simmering water.

Cafe brulot (pronounced ca-fay' broo'lo) takes its name from two French words cafe, or "coffee," and brulot, which has dual meanings , . . "highly sea­soned"" and "incendiary or burning." Both fit the brulot perfectly. In other words, it is "burnt spiced coffee."

Dorothy Dix, who often stirs a brulot at the home of this writer, calls the delectable brew "liquid fruit cake."

Antoine Special

l½jiggers Dubonnet wine

1½ jiggers French vermouth

The Dubonnet is poured into a wine or flip glass, and the ver­mouth skillfully "floated" on—not mixed. This appetizer is best without the addition of bitters or even ice. The flavor of the Dubonnet is improved by chilling—but avoid diluting with ice cubes.

This is the aperitif featured by Antoine's, oldest and most celebrated French restaurant in New Or­leans. It was Jules Alciatore, son of Antoine Alcia-tore founder of the famous rendezvous of gourmets, who originated this inspiring before-dinner appetizer. Simple to make—easy to take . . . there you are; one whiff of this rhythmic fluid makes poets of us all.

Jules, like his illustrious sire, has passed on to his well-deserved reward. But when you dine at this St. Louis street shrine to Epicurus you will flatter the house by specifying Antoine Special as your appet­izer.

Stirrup Cup

1 lump sugar

½lemon—juice only

1 jigger cherry brandy

1 jigger cognac brandy

1 maraschino cherry

When you have dissolved the sugar in a little water add the lemon juice, and the two brandies. Stir with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Drop in the cherry.

It occurs to us that in a day when the motorcars have outstripped horseflesh, "runningboard" cocktail would be a more suitable name for this delectable parting cup.

The above recipe compounds a farewell drink po­tent enough to make you fancy yourself on a horse, feet in stirrups, yelling "giddy-yap," and ready to go places and do things. Origin has been attributed to George Washington. If true it may be the reason the father of our country departed on such frequent trips from Mount Vernon. Another clue—there's a cherry in it!

Father, mother, sister, brother we cannot tell a lie —this is a swell drink. No wonder G. W. was first in the hearts of his countrymen.

Ambrosia

1 jigger cognac brandy 1 jigger applejack 1 dash Cointreau 1 lemon—juice only champagne

Mix all but the champagne and pour into a thin 6-ounce glass. The mixture will half fill the glass. Pour in the champagne to the brim. Drink while sparkling.

Ambrosia is popularly supposed to have been the drink concocted by the Greek gods on Mount Olym­pus, and was caculated to put sparkle in Grecian ladies' eyes and hair on Grecian gentlemen's chests. At Arnaud's, one of the better French restaurants in New Orleans' Vieux CarrS, a modern version of the Mount Olympus is served. We have it from the pro­prietor, Arnaud Cazenave ("Count Arnaud" to his familiars) that the ambrosia he brews is one the lovely Hebe might well have served Juno, Jupiter, Ganymede, and the balance of the Olympus crowd. We who have sampled it agree.

(Note by our dietetics editor: Ambrosia was the food partaken of by the high gods of Olympus. Nec­tar was the drink.) No matter—ambrosia or nectar. —it's all one at the incomparable Arnaud's.

"A Goodly Countrey . . . abounding with wild Date trees . . . whence they draw a liquor called Tarrie." 1609.

Toddies, Slings, and Flips

While we apply the name Toddy to that drink in which we mix whiskey, gin, rum, or brandy with a little sugared water, the original toddy was a far different drink from that which we now imbibe under the same name.

"Toddy" originally was the fermented sap obtained from the incised spathes of various species of palms, especially the wild date palm, and used as a beverage in tropical countries. A Hindustani word, tari in the beginning, it later became tarrie, then tary, terry, tadie, toddy, toddey, toddie and, finally as we know it today, toddy.

Toddy is just another name for Sling, or vice versa. For example a Hot Whiskey Sling calls for a lump of sugar in a half-glassful of boiling water, a jigger of whiskey, a small piece of lemon peel and a grating of nutmeg. Now if you want a Hot Whiskey Toddy, duplicate the above and omit the nutmeg.

Some like'em hot, some like'em cold, some like'em with gin, some with brandy, some with Scotch. But in any case the addition or omission of nutmeg makes the difference between toddy and sling.

The Kentucky Toddy is composed of a lump of sugar, a little water, a twist of lemon peel, a full jigger of Bourbon, a lump of ice, and a lot of stirring.

"Toddy, originally the juice of the cocoa tree and after­wards rum, water, sugar, and nutmeg." 1788.

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