Beverages

This is David Alan’s take on an old-fashioned that incorporates a smoky flavor from the home-smoked orange juice used as a base. Although smoked juice adds an extra layer of flavor, the drink also tastes good with plain orange juice.

This is mixologist David Alan’s grownup version of that old college party favorite Long Island Iced Tea. By using premium spirits in small amounts, David creates a balanced drink that isn’t too sweet or too strong, a far cry from the frat boy rendition, where one drink could put you out for the night. David omits the standard sweet-and-sour mix and tops the cocktail with the traditional splash of cola. Incidentally, despite its name, the drink doesn’t contain tea, but when all the ingredients are mixed together it sure looks like it.

A great do-ahead dessert for a large crowd. Although I make it most often with fresh peaches, the recipe works with just about any fruit-nut combo you can dream up, including fresh berries and hazelnuts, fresh pears and almonds, bananas and pecans, or even craisins or raisins and pecans.

I named this dense chocolate cake with a mountain of coffee-flavored icing for the 1956 movie Giant. which put the small West Texas town of Marfa on the map. The stars were Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, and James Dean in his last movie role before he died in a car accident at age twenty-four. Hotel Paisano, where the cast stayed during the filming, still pays homage to the production with a Giant memorabilia room and Jett’s Grill, named after Dean’s character, oilman Jett Rink.

I’ve yet to meet a man—Texan or otherwise—who can resist these meltingly tender short ribs. (Most women can’t either, but they tend not to eat as many.) Serve them over a pile of creamy cornmeal mush and you’ll have a party full of satisfied customers. At one gathering, I asked a group of guys how many ribs they thought they’d eat. The majority estimated that three would be plenty. They changed their tunes after taking a few bites and revised the number upward to four or five—and they kept their word. Short ribs come in varying sizes, so I figure about a pound per person, especially if my guest list includes a bunch of guys with big appetites.

I’m betting it took a strong stomach to handle what cowboys called son-of-a-bitch stew, a concoction that included cow innards, even, and especially, the guts. “A son-of-a-bitch might not have any brains and no heart, but if he ain’t got guts he ain’t a son-of-a bitch” is the old cowboy saying. Known as son-of-a-gun stew in polite company, the dish was standard chuck wagon fare and said to include everything from a young calf but “the hair, horns, and holler.” According to Come an’ Get It: The Story of the Old Cowboy Cook by the late western folklorist Ramon F. Adams, the real thing did not include any vegetables save perhaps a “skunk egg,” cowboy slang for onion. I guess the only thing that my stew has in common with the cowboy favorite—and I know I am stretching things here—is my use of venison, just about as accessible to many of us Texans as the calves were to cowboys on the range. Everyone around here shoots deer, and many of my friends have freezers full of venison to prove it. If you don’t, feel free to substitute beef stewing meat. You can make this stew up to 3 days in advance, or freeze it for up to 3 weeks.

Once looked down upon as so 1950s, the iceberg wedge with tangy blue cheese dressing has made a comeback, and with good reason. I’m always amazed at the enthusiastic response when I set out these salads—either on a party buffet table, or for a sit-down dinner. Guys especially love it.

Friend and champion mixologist David Alan created two cocktails for our big-city cocktail party, both named for landmarks in Houston, the state’s most populous city. Skyline takes its name from downtown Houston’s Skyline District, famous as the third tallest skyline in the United States. Hermann Park, created in 1914, is a 445-acre urban playground that encompasses an outdoor theater, municipal golf course, Japanese garden, miniature train, and the Houston Zoo.

A sensational ending for a dinner party, cocktail party, or just about any event, these rich cheesecake-like bars always draw sighs of pure delight. The recipe comes from my early days as a caterer in Houston. I think they taste best cold, but no matter how they’re served, they disappear quickly.

I love a dramatic dessert at a cocktail party, but I also want a pick-up dessert that doesn’t need plates and utensils. A deep, dark-chocolate mousse that’s piped onto a choice of two very different kinds of cookies fits the bill. Although I like to make both cookie bases and serve them together, you may want to save a little time by choosing to make only one. (Pictured page 204, center and top.)

My friend Yvonne and I tested my Bloody Mary oyster shooters and got lightly “toasted” at the same time. We kept draining our shot glasses and after each one we figured we needed one more, just to make sure the seasoning was right. And besides, each shot glass contained dinner (an oyster and a vegetable) and a drink (a spot of vodka), so why stop before our appetites waned? Before we knew it we’d moved from testing to party mode. We laughingly dubbed our oyster concoction a “party in a shot glass,” and the name stuck. One thing is sure: start slurping these and you’ve got a party whether it’s for just the two of you or for a crowd of your best buddies.

Lightly sweet and refreshingly tart, white sangria marries beautifully with just about everything Tex-Mex. It goes together easily in advance, making it one of my top picks for parties of any size.

Just a few of us hung around the kitchen following a wonderful late-afternoon party at Sarah and Sam Bell Steves’s San Antonio home. Sam’s son, Tres, stopped by and we started talking margaritas. Tres broke out the family’s personalized sterling silver margarita shakers, a pretty good sign that we’d stumbled into in the hands of a margarita-making marvel. We politely asked for seconds—just to make sure. Then we asked for the recipe.

Years ago, during my catering days, we served a Tsingtao beer sorbet in hollowed-out lemon halves for a Chinese New Year celebration. I remembered the idea recently as I brainstormed potential desserts for a Tex-Mex dinner. If it’s good with Chinese beer, it ought to be better with a Tex-Mex beer, I reasoned. I grabbed a couple of Coronas and a handful of limes and went to work. Corona Sorbet starred at my next party and it was everything I’d hoped—lively and refreshing, sweet and tangy, just the sort of dessert I crave after a Tex-Mex feast.

I make batches of these in mini muffin pans, wrap them well, freeze them, and keep them on hand for last-minute parties. What a relief it is to have a dessert ready and waiting for an impromptu dinner. The only problem: I know where they are, and sometimes, especially late at night, I can’t resist unwrapping a few and eating them. (Yup, they’re pretty good frozen.) Before long, my party stash has dissipated, and I have to make some more. (Pictured on page 164, center tray.)

Those of us who grew up within spittin’ distance of Louisiana know that unsweetened iced tea is practically un-American. Furthermore, a family get-together in Texas just isn’t right without a big, fat, sweating pitcher of sweet iced tea. So here’s my latest, most favorite iced tea recipe, inspired (ironically) by a vendor at New York City’s biggest farmers’ market—the Union Square Greenmarket. I discovered it on a broiling August afternoon after buying a paper-cupful for one dollar. It was beyond refreshing, with a hint of mint, a kiss of citrus, and just the right touch of New England maple syrup. Naturally, I substitute Texas honey for my version. My mother always made iced tea the old-fashioned way, by boiling water, steeping the tea, and cooling it off with loads of ice. But my coauthor’s mother, Patricia Oresman, gave me a better idea. She used to make sun tea by leaving a pitcher full of water and tea bags in the sun for several hours. One day she put the tea bags in a pitcher full of water but never did get around to setting it out on her sunny backyard porch. She returned to the kitchen a few hours later to find perfectly brewed no-sun sun tea. Now she makes kitchen-counter iced tea year-round, no solar energy needed. How long does she let the tea bags steep? “I let it sit until it gets the color I think it should be,” she says.