Hunter S.

Jack’s Ghost

Buzzed Boomer is always on the lookout for signature cocktails. We’re going to say Jack’s Ghost fits the bill at Sun Mountain Lodge in Winthrop, Washington even though they have some other interesting speciality cocktails. Jack’s Ghost is named for Jack Barron the visionary who originally built the Lodge in 1968. The location is a 3,000 foot high mountain top with 360 degree vies of mountains and valleys. The Lodge has since been sold and updated since Jack passed away in 1985 and is now a world-class resort known for it’s excellent food, wine, hiking, biking and winter-skiing trails.

Jack’s Ghost is a blend of Hedgetrimmer gin, lime juice and Boomsma clooserbitters. Can’t get that at home!

Hunter S. and my parents came to Jack’s original Sunny M dude ranch before we were born since Jack was our uncle’s brother. We’ve been fortunate to visit many times over the years. In fact, Hunter S. and his wife were married there.  

It’s nice to see a plaque honoring Jack out front and a delicious cocktail named after his ghost.

  • Hunter S. and Jet Cannon

A Fine Place to Rest

We took a little time off to visit the memorial bench of a lost loved one. It’s a fine place to rest after hiking around Sun Mountain Resort near Winthrop, Washington.

Remember to wear a mask!

  • Hunter S. and Jet Cannon

A Martini Without An Olive Just… Doesn’t…. Quite…. Make It

But which type of olive?!  And stuffed with what?  There’s lots of opportunity to step up your game from the standard grocery store pimento-stuffed olives.  

You can upgrade the olive itself.  Some say Spanish Queen olives are the gold star of martini olives.  

“For me, there is no better martini olive than a Castelvetrano olive from Sicily,” says Pete Stanton, head bartender at Ai Fiori at The Langham, New York. Grown specifically in the Castelvetrano region of Sicily, the fresh seaside air adds a distinct mild salinity to the olives.  

Then there’s the stuffing choices.   Garlic, anchovy, almond, pimento, jalapeno, habanero, bleu cheese, white cheddar, feta cheese, double-stuffed (garlic & jalapeno),  lemon peel,  and onion to name some options.  Upscale grocery stores, like Jensen’s in Palm Springs have an impressive selection.  Or there’s a great selection online.

You really like vermouth?  You can get olives soaked in vermouth instead of brine.  

Mike, my favorite martini-maker in Crescent Bar, Washington hand-stuffs olives with blue cheese.  He has a special little tool for just that purpose.

So there you go.  Pick your pickled passion!

Elliot Gould in M*A*S*H sums it up nicely.  Click here.  

Cheers!

– Jet Cannon 

woman in white shirt with green and blue face paint

OK Boomer: This Bud May Not Be for You

The missus and I are on the road. Gypsies. Nomads. Vagabonds. In addition to a fully stocked bar and cooler, we travel with a little cannabis. It’s all medicinal.

Our supply comes from two different hobby growers in Vermont. One of them even goes all in on the marketing by naming them based on the unique high they are meant to deliver (e.g.  “Lazy River,” “Train Wreck” etc. And if you had asked me yesterday, I would have said, probably based on the gentle buzz and some regional pride, that “it’s pretty good stuff.” Apparently, my assessment of quality and potency has been impacted by a lack of experimentation during Covid. Last night we met some young folks in the next campsite. They offered us a peace pipe filled with recently purchase hemp from a store in Colorado.  We each took 3 hits.

To say that our pot compared to theirs was like saying our Diet  Pepsi compared to their Gin. That our sugar high compared to their acid trip.

Minutes later, I was hallucinating and elucidating to our new friends about how the machines were using AI to take over the planet from us humans (true, but this seemed hardly the time or place to get into it). I had been enjoying some Pale Ales to this point, and instantly recognized that if I drank another, I would wind up in the bushes. I decided it was time to remove myself from the campfire circle and prepare our dinner. When I got into the trailer’s galley, I became paralyzed with confusion and fear. I wasn’t really sure how to proceed with washing or chopping vegetables, or breading the chicken. These tasks seemed akin to defusing a bomb in terms of complexity and concentration. My wife soon joined me and her stupor was similar to my own.

Eventually, after meandering through a culinary corn maze, we got the feast  on the grill. I ate a huge portion, then went back for seconds, then thirds, until about 2 lbs. of chicken was no more. Then we got into the Snickers bars. When that wasn’t enough, we got out the breakfast muffins and grilled those in butter. Still starving, I began to comb through the larder for more of anything edible. After eating most of the food we had for the next 2 nights, I went to bed still ravenous, and completely stoned out of my mind. There was lots of giggling and comedy sketch-worthy thoughts. But sadly none survived the night.

Be careful out there folks.

  • Hunter S.