Hey Ma look! That’s my old, gnarled hand! It’s a dated picture of The Right Decision, one of our staple drinks I somehow came up with on my own. In the picture you can see that’s how we used to rim the glass, so you could have an unaltered, non salty sip if you so chose. The tajin was different then as well, finer and less crusty (sort of like me), and I think we put orange zest in it.

Raspberry Hibiscus Syrup

2 cups brewed hibiscus tea

3 cups organic sugar

1 cup raspberries

For the tea we use two cups dried hibiscus, two and a half cups hot water, and allow it to sit for at least a half hour. While the tea steeps, crush the raspberries into the sugar with a fork and mix until it forms a “slurry.” Strain off the tea (it should be about two cups all said and done) and add to the raspberry and sugar mix. Cook on the stovetop until the sugar dissolves. Strain through a chinois. This makes one quart of syrup.

You can use the leftover tea to make another round of tea if you wish.

I don’t know why, but this is one of my only recipes that doesn’t use the metric system and it also doesn’t use equal parts by weight for the syrup. Sue me. It works.

I guess now I’m giving all my secrets away. Whatever. I just sent the full recipe for The Right Decision out to our PR person who wanted something for some quarterly magazine somewhere. Spicy cocktails for the summer edition. Yada, yada. These things just go out into the stratosphere and disappear to never return again like all the queries and proposals I send out for my cocktail book.

Anyway. I first had hibiscus tea at The Kabab Cafe right on Steinway Street in the Egyptian section of Astoria Queens. I lived two blocks away at the time. God, what a weird moment in my life. I lived above a Greek bakery and so woke to the smell of baklava every morning. I had two crazy ass dogs, Bruce, a giant, totally insane American/English Bulldog, and my old, trusty pal, Clyde, a pit bull and Boston terrier mix. They’re both in doggy heaven right chewing on stuff.

Yeah, I was unemployed and supposed to be working on my thesis. Horribly depressed with a few shining moments in my life. One of them was Ali over at the Kabab Cafe. If you’ve never heard of the joint, it was first featured in an episode of Bourdain’s “No Reservations.” A tiny hole in the wall, located in the Muslim section, maybe 12 seats or so on a good day. Real strange. No menu at all and just one guy working there, Chef Ali, an older, massive, super friendly gentlemen from Egypt, who spoke several languages.

I went often for his selection of offal. Again, there was no menu, so he would simply state what he had fresh that day and then he would make the entire meal from scratch. He had no mise en place whatsoever, so when you ordered from him he would go to the kitchen and start chopping vegetables and preparing everything for you. I thought it was the coolest thing ever and always wondered how he did it. On busier nights he did have a helper in the kitchen, but he was both waiter and chef (and yes, it sometimes took forever to get food. I brought a book). On the slower times when I went in and was the only person in there, after I finished eating, Ali would bring two piping hot hibiscus teas to my table, sit down and tell me all sorts of crazy stories about his world travels.

He also sensed I was in some sort of metaphysical turmoil and although he never pried into my personal life, he would offer advice between the tales of his life’s adventures, tidbits such as, “When we look back at our younger selves, we realize there was never anything to worry about. The funny part is we’re always looking back at our younger selves. That’s what wisdom is, the accumulation of looking back and realizing as time goes on to worry less and less.”

My favorite menu items were his lamb’s cheeks with preserved lemon which he served with pita and this outrageous fermented seven chili sauce. He got me into eating all manner of cheapo, nasty bits. Sweet breads (veal thymus gland), skate wing (until it became a normal thing), testicles, and my favorite of all time, brains. Oh, and goat. In Astoria, in was a common sight for all the butchers to display their wares in the windows, mostly skinned goats and lambs.

Years ago, when I took over the bar program at Rustic Canyon, I thought long and hard about a new staple cocktail to add to our signature side. I knew I wanted hibiscus. It just popped in there. I thought about Ali and the first time I ever had it at the Kabab Cafe. I loved that it was slightly bitter and sour all on its own and knew too that it was big in Mexican culture as well, hence the addition of mezcal and a tajin rim. Yes, we make the tajin too but that’s a post for another day.