Alan Ilagan

My how the mighty have fallen. While I’ve never been a fan of Chris Noth’s turn as Mr. Big on Sex and the City – the series and the movies – I did think he always maintained an aloof bit of class, even if he did come off as an arrogant prick more often than not. (I don’t know anyone who would have forgiven a jilt at the altar, no matter what.) But that’s all fiction, and it’s hard to get upset over make-believe. What is jarring is this crass move at the end of the runway for a “Dressed To Kilt” charity fashion show.

Take it from someone who knows – it’s hard to hide your twig and berries when you’re bent-over and bare-assed – in fact, it requires all sorts of tricks of the trade and sleight of hand. And as much of my butt as you’re likely to see on this site (watch this weekend…) you’ll never see my balls like this.

There are certain lines that should never be crossed, and a few runways that should never be walked – at least not in these digital days. This posterior is now ripe for posterity, balls to the wall and all.

Every few months I like to change up my cocktail of choice. There are a few constant companions (a Belvedere martini, incredibly dry, with olives, for instance), but there are others that I’ll fixate on for a while, then keep them in mind for when I want to return to that place at a later date. A Tanqueray and tonic reminds me of summer in Provincetown. An amaretto sour recalls my first heady cocktail days in New Orleans. And a sidecar will always remind me of the month I got married.

I was looking for a classic cocktail to kick off the weekend, and having been inundated with episodes of ‘Mad Men’, I was feeling a 60’s vibe, so the first thing that came up was a sidecar. (It was actually recommended by a wise friend – the same one who introduced me to Boodles gin, and that has made all the difference in a traditional martini.) The sidecar packs a punch, but is seductive enough to go down smoothly, a little too smoothly sometimes, not that I’d ever complain about smoothness. Here’s the rough recipe (search online for more accurate measurements – this should be enough to jog a good bartender’s memory):

2 parts cognac (or brandy)

1 part cointreau

½ fresh lemon juice

It’s such a simple recipe, which may be one reason for its iconic status and, if I have anything to do with it, its returning popularity. The classics never go out of style, or taste. This one is refreshing enough for Spring, but pungent enough for fall, and I can certainly see its amber hue glowing perfecting before a fireside.

For all of that, I’m not sure it has the modern-day renown of most martinis, which is both a boon and a bane. Several local bars (including a certain establishment named after a burnt-umber-hued hat that has yet to deliver a knowledgable bartender), just don’t know how to make a decent sidecar, which is truly tragic (and annoying). However, if that keeps it from cosmopolitan-like saturation, I’ll deal with it. (One can only hope that it’s not in the new Sex and the City movie… those bitches don’t know when to stop beating a dead horse.)

When it was first announced, the idea of a Sex and the City movie sequel didn’t exactly thrill me. I loved the series (one of the few television shows I religiously watched), and I enjoyed the movie (even if it was a complete rehash of some of the very same storylines of the series, right down to some of the dialogue, “I’m just going to say the thing you’re not supposed to say… I love me more…”) but the idea of a second-go-round just rang of opportunistic Hollywood business based on the boffo box office of the first one.

However, the trailer for SATC 2 looks intriguing (even if it smells of another overdone plotline), and the idea of Liza Minnelli covering Beyonce’s Single Ladies sounds like a train-wreck of must-see proportions. (I also hear the ladies themselves are covering Helen Reddy’s I Am Woman. Must-see train-wreck #2!)