Author: mixaphoria

📖: Sandra Cisneros’s The House on Mango Street (1983)
🍸: home in the heart

Why this book?

Cisnero’s novel is about a young girl named Esperanza, who longs for a house of her own, far away from her family’s house on Mango Street in Chicago. She dreams of going somewhere else where she’s free to be herself, to be an artist, to be unmoored from the expectations of what it means to be a girl in her Latinx neighborhood.

But no matter how far Esperanza will eventually go, the house on Mango Street will always be a part of her. “One day I’ll own my own house,” she muses, “but I won’t forget who I am or where I came from…because I know how it is to be without a house…I have gone away to come back. For the ones I left behind. For the ones who cannot out.”

I was really swept up in Cisnero’s evocative portrayal of the aspirations, observations, and concerns of a girl in the process of discovering who she wants to become. I enjoyed that the novel was written in an unusual way (through a series of vignettes), and Cisneros has such a beautiful way of painting a scene with brevity and simplicity.

Through Esperanza’s reflections on the purpose and direction of her life, Cisneros poses the question of whether the work that we do (and the art that we create) should be done in the service of others. If yes, then what would this look like?

I was just finishing this book when I heard of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s passing, which made these questions even more timely and relevant. When asked by the Stanford Daily in 2017 what advice she has for young people, she said, “Whatever paid work you pursue, do something outside of yourself that you really care about, that you are passionate about. Whether it’s the environment [or] discrimination. Do something that will make life a little better for people less fortunate than you.” ❤️️ RIP, RBG

Why this drink?

For this pairing, I made a mango-based drink 🥭 with Campari as a nod to Esperanza’s red house on Mango Street. 🏠

home in the heart

ingredients:
1.25 oz bourbon
0.25 oz Campari
2 oz mango juice
0.25 oz fresh lime juice
pinch of cayenne pepper

for garnish:
Tajin seasoning, or a mix of cayenne pepper, black pepper, and salt

1. combine all ingredients in a shaker and shake with ice
2. use a wedge of lime to wet the rim of the glass, then dip your rim into the Tajin seasoning
3. pour mixture into the glass, and serve with ice

Another round, please! 🥂

You might also like:
Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior (1976)

Let’s discuss!

Finished the book? What did you think about it? Share your thoughts in the comments section below!

📖: Ling Ma’s Severance (2018)
🍸: the city

Why this book?

Published in 2018, Severance is a novel about NYC resident Candance Chen who becomes one of the few survivors of the Shen Fever pandemic, caused by a flu-like virus initially detected in China.

Like Candace, I was living in NYC when COVID19 began to appear, so reading the novel’s portrayal of Shen Fever’s spread felt eerily prescient – from its descriptions of the public’s skepticism and confusion; to the shutdown of businesses; to the residents’ flight out of the city.

But what felt most unsettling about the book was its exploration of late-stage capitalism and its absurdities. In the novel, the virus turns people into zombies who perform repetitive, mind-numbing actions until they waste away. Is this a metaphor for what capitalism does to us – trapping us in an endless loop of work, production, consumption, and desire for more than what we already have?

One of the story’s details that stuck with me the most was Candace’s decision to outsource a manufacturing job to a Chinese factory, even though she knew that the job would cause real harm to the workers’ health. This made me reflect on how capitalism works like a trick mirror: by exploiting others in the global market, we think we gain an economic advantage. But participating in this capitalist exploitation also re-creates inequalities at home, widening a wealth gap that underpins a system of racial disparities. With Labor Day approaching, I’m thinking about my role in the global economy: what effect does my work have on others and how do I spend my money? Can it be possible for anyone to truly live outside of capitalism?  

Why this drink?

As a toast to the novel’s setting in NYC, I am pairing Severance with a dry version of the Manhattan cocktail. I used bourbon instead of rye, and because white vs. red vermouth was used, I garnished with a lemon peel instead of a cherry. The 2:1 ratio of whiskey to vermouth that I used aligns with the classic sweet Manhattan made with red vermouth.

the city

ingredients:
2 oz bourbon
1 oz dry vermouth
2 dashes orange bitters

*for garnish: lemon peel

1. combine the all ingredients in a mixing glass, and stir well with ice
2. serve in a chilled glass, straining out the ice
3. garnish with a lemon peel

Pro-Tips:
*whiskey alternative: you may use a rye whiskey instead of bourbon for a drier, spicier taste.
*vermouth alternative: you may use red (sweet) vermouth to make a sweet version of this Manhattan cocktail. Or you may use a 50/50 blend of red and white vermouth to make a “Perfect” Manhattan.
*bitters alternative: you may use Angostura bitters instead of orange bitters. I chose orange bitters for a brighter, citrus-y taste.
*garnish alternative: if you are using sweet vermouth instead of dry vermouth, garnish with a maraschino cherry vs. lemon peel.

Another round, please! 🥂

You might also like:
Charles Yu’s How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe (2010)

Let’s discuss!

Finished the book? What did you think about it? Share your thoughts in the comments section below!

And check out these reviews to learn more about the book:

• ‘Severance’ Is the Novel of Our Current Moment—but Not for the Reasons You Think, by Jane Hu, The Ringer, May 18, 2020

📖: Alexander Chee’s Edinburgh (2001)
🍸: flaxen

Why this book?

Edinburgh is HANDS DOWN one of the most beautiful works of prose that I’ve read. (Thank you, Alexander Chee, for gifting the world with your writing!!) This novel is a poignant and poetic coming-of-age story about a Korean-American boy named Fee, who joins a boys’ choir in Maine, where he meets and falls in love with his best friend, Peter. The choir is also where the director, Big Eric, sexually abuses several of the boys, including Peter, during an overnight summer camping trip. Much of the novel follows Fee into adulthood as he wrestles with his sexuality, faces shame and guilt for remaining a silent witness to Big Eric’s crimes, and grieves for the loss of Peter and his friends in the aftermath of their traumatic experience.

Much of the praise for this book cites how the simple, succinct language gives the story emotional depth and power — that what is not written expresses just as much as what Chee has put on the page. And I completely agree. There are many passages where I wanted to slow down, reread, and savor because the imagery was so vivid and lush.

For example, as the memory of Peter (and his death by burning) haunts Fee throughout his life, Fee’s narration becomes steeped with reoccurring images of fire and light — along with colors associated with flames: blue, red, and yellow. The novel also weaves in references to Western literature and Korean mythology, in which Fee seeks refuge, knowledge, and healing. This juxtaposition of Western and Korean influences is a nod to another layer of tension in the novel: not only does Fee grapple with his queer identity, but he also struggles to reconcile his bi-racial background as he grows up.

I finished the novel wanting to experience more of Chee’s writing. Since this novel is based on some of the author’s experiences, I am very much looking forward to reading Chee’s essays in How to Write an Autobiographical Novel to complement my reading of Edinburgh.

Why this drink?

The most tender moments in the novel are when Fee remembers Peter, often fixating on Peter’s white-blond, “candle-flame” hair — how this feature gave Peter a kind of emanating light that would draw you in. Of Peter, Fee recounts: “He walks and I feel the air come off him toward me, wherever we are…My mother calls him a towhead, the word, apparently, for that kind of hair, so pale, so bright, it seems to be what sunshine reminds you of. What do you want of him, I ask myself. I tell myself, to walk inside him and never leave. For him to be the house of me.”

And so, this yellow-hued cocktail is an ode to Fee’s love for Peter, the boy with the flaxen hair.

(This pairing uses Danny Shapiro’s Weathered Axe cocktail recipe from Punch with a few slight substitutions based on what I have available in quarantine.)

flaxen

ingredients:
1.5 oz bourbon
3/4 oz lemon juice
1/2 oz triple sec
1/2 oz Suze or an Americano wine
1/2 oz ginger syrup*

*for garnish: rosemary and lemon twist

1. combine all ingredients in a shaker with ice and shake well
2. serve in a chilled glass with ice
3. garnish with a rosemary and a lemon twist

Pro-Tips:
*how to make ginger syrup: Pour sugar and water into a pan (using a 1:1 sugar-to-water ratio) and heat the mixture on the stove until it starts to bubble. Once tiny bubbles start to appear, immediately take the boiling syrup off the stove and pour it into the into a glass jar with freshly grated ginger. Cover the jar with airtight lid until cool. Strain out the ginger after liquid cools.

quarantine substitutes:
Bourbon: the original recipe calls for a 100-proof bourbon. I did not use a 100-proof bourbon, but it still tasted great. Use any whiskey of your choice.
Triple sec: the original recipe calls for a Combier, a brand of triple sec, so you can replace it with whichever triple sec you prefer — it doesn’t need to be an expensive brand (though Cointreau is a great choice)! I once omitted the triple sec by accident when mixing for friends, and it still tasted delicious (phew!).
Suze: I recently used Suze because I didn’t have Cocchi Americano available (what the original recipe called for), and because Suze’s bitter gentian flavor kind of mimics a substitution I’ve used in the past. In fact, I’ve never used Cocchi in this drink before. Instead, I’ve only used Short Path’s Americano Blanc, which is a cross between a vermouth and amaro, with white wine notes mixed with a gentian root flavor. In short, I think you can experiment with this ingredient – go for something a little bitter, dry, and white wine-like…maybe a dry white vermouth will do?!
No fresh ginger? You can try using ground ginger instead.

Another round, please! 🥂

You might also like:
Ocean Vuong’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous (2019)

Let’s discuss!

Finished the book? What did you think about it? Share your thoughts in the comments section below!