The top-selling spirit in Maine for more than two decades is a coffee-flavored brandy, something that could be straight out of early medicine texts. A search for the origins of a Maine staple, in the northern woods and waterfronts.
When a cocktail is born, it receives a name. How it’s christened has as much to do with the drink’s lineage as the bartender’s mood—and sometimes, how it makes you feel after you’ve finished it.
After six months in Leipzig, a German reporter asks the novelist what he’ll miss. But it’s back here in the United States where more dangerous questions take shape, none easily answered with good beer.
After frequenting a local haunt where nobody knows his name, a Chicago writer makes new friends, rips on Richard Marx online, and then suddenly lands a real live celebrity musician at their door.
A young crooner’s untimely, macabre death left questions for those who would follow—musicians and fans alike. Was it suicide? Was it a hit? A listener’s query into one star’s place in the history of early rock and roll.
It’s easy to hate Starbucks until you admit it’s responsible for nearly everything good in today’s coffee culture. Now the behemoth is poised, with a recent acquisition, to introduce America to hundreds of years of tea culture. A tea maker is grateful.
One of the most striking differences between U.S. presidents is how they choose to stock the White House bar. From teetotalers to all-out drunks, a brief history of presidents and their preferred libations.
As Mad Men enters its much-anticipated fifth season, the New York psychotherapist who consulted on the show’s development explains why its characters and storylines feel so ineffably real.
An unfinished autobiography and a 1980s biopic turned Frances Farmer, one of the great golden-era stars, into a lobotomized zombie. The main trouble: Frances Farmer wasn’t lobotomized. An investigation to set one of Hollywood’s most convoluted stories straight.
Life in Newfoundland is changing. Fish are down, oil is up. Nostalgia abounds for simpler, harder times. So when outsiders arrive, they’re ordered to worship a fish—literally kiss a big cod on the mouth. But not everyone’s drinking the rum.
Thanksgiving is an American holiday, but that doesn’t mean it’s not celebrated elsewhere. And each of those celebrations—in Liberia, in Leiden, in the South Pacific—give us fresh reasons to be grateful for our own messed-up version.
Right now I am drinking Nespresso. A cup—a very little cup—of the Dulsão de Brasil, currently my favorite variety. And I am about to...