Alabama-born LeNell Smothers defines herself first and foremost as a bartender, but she's been called many things, most recently the owner of LeNell's liquor store. She's owned her own whiskey label called Red Hook Rye and been recognized by her home state as an honorary Colonel. Other interests include gin, sin and men.

I've been in the mood for tequila of late. Perhaps it's Cinco de Mayo still lingering in the air -- or more likely that week-long vacation in Baja -- but I've got tequila on the brain and on my lips. I love the stuff in my fizzy drinks, and especially in my Dré Fizz Affair.

Ever heard of the Dreyfus Affair? It's a bit of French history involving the wrongful conviction of an officer. The whole ordeal inspired Emile Zola to write "J'Accuse!", a letter addressed to the French President printed on the front page of the newspaper L'Aurore that caused a stir worldwide. And I've got a friend named Dré whom the ladies love almost as much as Dré loves tequila. He is a Numero Uno Tequila Fanatic.

Thus, after the jump, the Dré Fizz Affair, aka Dreyfus, aka what you'll be drinking all summer. You're welcome.

OK, OK, so we're a little obsessed with bourbon right now. But Derby Day is just around the corner, the sun is starting to make a cameo and, well, bourbon is absurdly delicious.

While at a whiskey-and-barbecue eatery the other night, the bartender stopped short when he heard me order Woodford Reserve, mistaking me for some high-rolling aficionado (I'm new to the cult and have never even tried Pappy Van Winkle). "You like bourbon?" he asked, smiling. With a flourish, he produced this bottle of Vintage 17-year-old bourbon. I laughed when I saw it. Look at that photo! It was like someone saying, "You know what's a high-quality nail polish?" and dramatically presenting you with an old bottle of cherry-red Wet & Wild with its insanely '80s script. How could this be tasty stuff?

One sip shut me straight up. My companion crowed, "It's incredible! It coats the palate with caramel!" All I could muster after a long day writing about food was a sober, "Yeah," and a deep sigh -- the sigh of a woman who had just acquired a very expensive new habit.

As winter yields to spring, farmers' markets teem with bright produce and blooms shed their pollen, allergy sufferers experience the first sneezes of the season. While over-the-counter and prescribed drugs offer some level of comfort, they also come with a hefty price tag and slew of side effects.

Though science is far from conclusive on this front, many homeopaths think there may be another (edible) option. Some allergy battlers have found that an old folk remedy of eating local honey can help reduce the severity of their reactions. The logic goes like this: bees in an area collect nectar from the same plants that cause allergies, and honey produced from that nectar contains microscopic quantities of the allergens. By consuming small amounts of the honey, sufferers may be administering a form of homespun immunotherapy.

Others dispute the effectiveness of this treatment, and even its supporters acknowledge that honey isn't an instant fix. Traditionally, allergy sufferers consume small amounts of it every day for an extended period of time in order to build up resistance to allergens. (Some even warn that local honey can actually set off reactions. Be sure to check with your doctor if you are considering this method of handling allergies.)

This is all a long way of saying that we have a delectable honey liqueur recipe for the allergic and the resistant alike. Krupnikas, a delicious Eastern European liqueur made from spices, honey and grain alcohol, makes an aromatic, golden-hued tipple that can be drunk warm in the fall or on the rocks in the summer. With a spicy flavor and bright glow, it is a great way to celebrate the arrival of (a hopefully sneeze-free) spring.

Do not come between a Southern gent and his bourbon.

We learned this lesson at a recent NYC party when we observed a Mississippi native seize a bottle of Knob Creek, shake its last drops angrily into a cup and grab a bottle of pricey, small-batch Woodford Reserve only to be outraged to find this also nearly gone. "I knew I should have hidden the good stuff from these people!" he shouted, shaking his fist at the guests he'd invited to his home.

The cause of this maniacal outburst from a mild-mannered gent? Bourbon, and the thought of mixing it with store-bought gingerale. A wide-eyed belle from Jersey had ordered up a whiskey-and-ginger. Since only his finest was left, he delivered the bourbon abomination with a sigh, grumbling about "corn syrup on beautiful whiskey" in a thick accent en route.

Making a whiskey-n-ginger with the best bourbon in the house is where we -- who have certainly enjoyed a Jameson 'n ginger or (hic!) three -- would draw the line. But what does Chris Morris, master distiller at Woodford Reserve (the official whiskey of Derby Day) think?

Slashfood: "A party guest wants to combine supermarket gingerale with your excellent bourbon. Do you flip out?

Morris: "To be quite honest, I think whisky and gingerale is a great drink. Woodford Reserve has hints of ginger and a nice little citrus note and goes well with gingerale, a classic highball. Our response to anybody who thinks it's an insult is the question, 'Well, do you enjoy it?' If the answer is 'yes,' it's perfectly all right. We want make a great first impression, so if that person is a gingerale highball drinker, what better way than with Woodford Reserve in place of your regular bourbon?"

Hmm. Very interesting. What do y'all think:

Absolut has added another variety to its line of flavored vodkas: Mango. With its tropical taste and groovy, painterly swirls on the bottle it's a bit surprising that it took until No. 10 for Absolut to add this one to their repertoire.

Or not. After I ordered a mango 'n' tonic at a bar recently, the bartender looked slightly askance and asked if I was "sure," explaining that "a lot of people don't like it."

One taste had me in agreement: As a straight-up shot or with a non-masking mixer like tonic water, Absolut Mango has a peculiar taste. It starts fruity-mango and ends fruity-mango, but there's some strange bit in the middle that sort of flops on the tongue like mango detergent.

This is especially odd since Absolut so adroitly used mango in its New Orleans flavor, but perhaps the hit of black pepper that elevated that vodka above its peers also helped disguise the troubling mango notes (not to mention its super-cool design).

Absolut Mango does work nicely when blended into a cocktail or combined with juice: She's just not a sipper.

As several media sources have noted, there has recently been a surge in vodka sales. While these increases have occurred across the board, there has been a particularly large spike in so-called "value" and "popular" brands, which cost less than $9 per bottle.

In addition to the obvious price benefit, there is also the matter of flavor. As The New York Times noted, the premium vodka fad was largely an artificially created phenomenon, and the cheap stuff often tastes just as good as brands that cost five or six times as much.

Of course, as the comments in last November's Top Shelf Vodka post demonstrate, Slashfood's readers have known this for quite some time.

While you may not want to resort to Popov, as the Times seems to suggest, it's worth noting that Smirnoff, Luksusowa and Svedka are all outstanding, low-priced tipples. And, just in case the Times decides to copy us yet again, remember that you heard it here first!

One of the best things about being an adult is having a liquor cabinet.

Not just a few pints stashed away atop a refrigerator, but a proper piece of furniture -- or at least a designated shelf -- to keep one's array of bottles, glassware, shakers and swizzle sticks. However, many of us shove and stack and forget about that old quart of Kahlua or the sticky shot glasses and ruin the whole effect.

In order to reap the full Nick and Nora je ne sais quoi from your liquor cabinet, you also must do a little maintenance at least every six months.

Slashfood's tips to cleaning up your liquor cabinet after the jump.

We all saw Sideways -- heck, to some of us, it's not just a movie, it's a manifesto. So we know that we're supposed to admire Pinot Noir and barely tolerate Merlot (it's not the demon grape it's made out to be).

The folks at Castle Rock winery are contributing to the dialog on Pinot Noir, and they put their answer in bottles.

Castle Rock currently bottles juice from seven species of grape, each chosen by informed vintner magic from its own West Coast microclimate with the appellation noted on the bottle.

Thus Castle Rock Chardonnay drinkers are choosing bottles from either the Russian River Valley or the Central Coast, Syrah drinkers choosing between Columbia Valley and Sonoma, and so forth.

In the wine as in the geography, the star grape is Pinot Noir, which for the 2007 vintage offers bottles from eight appellations. Some are easy to come by and some are selling out, and I can't pretend to have tried all eight (though I'm working my way through the list).

But I can pass along a few notes on those I have tried, which perhaps will inspire you to consider these sturdy, poetic Pinots the next time you're looking for a bottle to open with dinner.

My suggestions after the jump.

When it comes to naming drinks after people -- whether they be real or fictional -- what comes first? Do you decide to honor a personage and then make the appropriate cocktail, or do you mix it up and then go, "Hmmm... who does this remind me of?"

For the Suzanne Sugarbaker, it was definitely the latter. A cocktail made with sweet tea vodka and rose petal nectar seemed rather Southern belle-like and, given that there is already a Scarlett O'Hara, this seemed the way to go.

While my mother was something of a gourmet adventurer, the Northern Virginia suburbs in the 1970's weren't exactly a hotbed of culinary experimentation. To find new, unexplored foods, Mom spent an inordinate amount of time driving around to small markets and out-of-the-way eateries. To her credit, she also tried a lot of weird things that might have frightened lesser adventurers. In terms of wine, for example, we had to travel to Washington DC to find a decent wine store, so she worked her way through the meager offerings in our local grocery stores. From Ernest and Julio to Lancer's, Mateus Rose to Almaden, she gave everything a shot. One day, she came home with what my sisters and I immediately dubbed "Astronaut Wine": bright red Franzia in a handy cardboard box. While she and my father were dubious about the taste, I loved the cool mylar bag and the convenient container. Maybe it wasn't the best wine, but Franzia definitely had the coolest package.

I don't consider myself a wine snob, but I have long since banished Franzia to the ranks of wines that I wouldn't even use to de-grease my engine. Still, I can remember the wonder of those cool boxes, and have often imagined how great it would be if a vintner came out with a top-notch wine in a really cool box. With this in mind, I was excited to learn that a box wine, Corbett Canyon's 3-liter Premium Cask Merlot, won Best of Class for Merlots under $15 in the San Francisco Chronicle's Wine Competition.

Priced at $10, Corbett Canyon's boxed Merlot is well within my price range; unfortunately, the wine shops in my area have yet to stock it. Has anybody given it a shot?

A few years ago – which, if memory serves me, corresponds to "the Paleolithic era" when you're young – jaws dropped all around the oenophilic community when Jay McInerney was named wine columnist for House and Garden magazine.

McInerney has been considered something of a voice of a generation (read: mine), but I always thought he was unfairly freighted with mis-perceptions and even some guttersniping: a talented writer who writes about the social milieu can be misunderstood as having an attitude, and even if they do, it is the writing that should, and ultimately does, speak for itself.

It seems that many among the cigars-and-snifters crowd dismissed McInerney's wine writing as disdainfully as they would a box of Franzia, while many among the hipster-wine-bar set dismissed McInerney's wine writing as cloyingly as they would embrace the "irony" of that selfsame box of wine. But anyone so dismissing often so dismissed for no better reason than the fashion of scorning the 1980s, a critical posture that the decade itself certainly bears some responsibility for. I've actually read one reference to this best-selling – and, to my mind both as reader and writer, very talented – author as a "wine brat."

When it comes to rum, I have to admit a definite prejudice: after years of drinking Polynesian cocktails with names like Zombie, Suffering Bastard, and Planter's Punch, I have developed a definite tendency toward dark rums. This makes sense; while white rums are great for degreasing engines or cleaning wounds, there's a lot to be said for flavor!

The classic dark rum is Myers's, a rich and flavorful potion with notes of vanilla, molasses, and a very slightly burned taste. Unfortunately, at $23 for a fifth, it is also fairly expensive. On the other hand, Cruzan Black Strap Navy Rum is a lot cheaper ($14), and even more delicious. Made with a heavy wallop of molasses, it has a very rich, sweet flavor, a lower alcohol content, and a dark, almost impenetrably black color. Best of all, like Myers, it holds up very nicely against fruit juices, egg nog, and all the other rich flavors that make most lesser rums quail.

For more refined tastes, there is nothing like a golden rum. Unfortunately, this is one of those places where low quality translates pretty directly into low taste. Luckily, Appleton Gold ($14) and Mount Gay Eclipse ($16) are both outstanding and relatively cheap. Steer clear of Bacardi.

If you absolutely must go with spiced rum, you're probably better off making it yourself. That having been said, I have to admit a deep appreciation of Rogue Hazelnut Spiced Rum. It has a subtle, adult flavor that tastes fantastic in a simple grog. Unfortunately, at roughly $30 per bottle, it's a little pricey!

In addition to being a moderately decent brewer, Heineken has also flirted with becoming a force for change in the world. In the early 1960's, during a vacation in the Caribbean, one of Heineken's brewers noticed two problems that he thought might have the same solution. While the local beaches were littered with beer bottles, many people weren't able to find reasonably-priced building materials. When he got back to work, the brewer convinced Heineken to create the "world bottle" (WOBO), which also became known as "the brick that holds beer." Basically a rectangular-shaped beer bottle, world bottles were designed to fit comfortably end-to-end, making it possible to make walls, doors, and windows without resorting to glass cutting.

Heineken ended up making a small production run of the world bottles, but never released them to the public. Today, the only two WOBO structures in the world are a shed on the Heineken estate and a wall at the Heineken museum in Amsterdam. However, even though the world bottle never went into production, other people have found a way to turn left over Heineken bottles into livable structures.

Using one million discarded Heineken and Chang beer bottles, Buddhist monks in Sisaket, Thailand constructed the Wat Pa Maha Chedi Kaew monastery. A beautiful, graceful structure, it shows that all those empties that we put in our recycling bin have the power to make a major difference!

While no one tells the exact same story, most historians agree that French bartender Fernand Petiot is responsible for creating the Bloody Mary. He first served a variation of the iconic drink at Harry's Bar in Paris around 1920. He later came to the United States and started slinging drinks at New York's St. Regis Bar. In 1933, he added Tabasco to his already-popular combination of vodka and tomato juice and a brunch specialty was born.

These days, there are endless variations on the original Bloody Mary, but most recipes include salt, pepper, Worcestershire sauce, horseradish and a celery stalk or two. One of my favorite Philadelphia bars, National Mechanics, has a weekend Bloody Mary Bar at which they allow patrons to add their own mix-ins, which allows for vast customization (if you're brave, opt for the house-made Bacon Vodka).

For those of you who are Bloody Mary lovers, what's your favorite twist on the classic?

G'Vine Nouaison Gin is 43.9% abv. / 87.8 proof. I wrote about G'Vine Floraison Gin and now have the pleasure to write about their new product which just rolled out in the US. Normally I let samples of spirits sit for awhile, but I was waiting eagerly to try this gin and had it opened the evening it arrived. G'Vine Nouaison contains nine main botanicals: ginger root, licorice, green cardamom, cassia bark, coriander, cubeb berries, juniper berries, nutmeg, and lime. Plus an additional botanical that their Floraison Gin is known fro, a small touch of grape vine flowers, but nowhere near the amount seen in the G'Vine Floraison

The aroma is elegant and refined, clean and pure, like how the air smells right after a Autumn downpour. Hints of ginger, lime, and juniper come through, with floral and spicy tones as well. A classic gin aroma, but with just a bit more oomph to it. Almost a metallic aroma at times, in a good way, like titanium and platinum. This is ginny, gin, gin. The taste starts off with a nice juniper hit, followed by hints of nutmeg and other spices, and lime. It's smooth, elegant, and in the classic London Dry Style, but with a slightly bigger and bolder, but not overwhelming, taste.

The G'Vine Nouaison Gin is a much more refined gin than the floral powerhouse of the G'Vine Floraison. This is a gin that seems made for sipping on the rocks, but even more so, for a classic dry martini, Just a little vermouth, and a lemon twist, or maybe a lime twist to bring out more of the light lime that's hiding in the background. I think you will see a lot of this gin in premium cocktails starting very soon, and from what I've heard it's sweeping the awards.