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Bourbon. The very word conjures something classic—say, a chance encounter at a dive bar in a ’40s film noir. The girl’s got moxie, so she takes it on the rocks, the same as the mysterious stranger with his brim pulled low. She matches him drink for drink as the clock ticks on toward midnight. At the witching hour, she gets up to leave and sidles past Mr. Tall/Dark/Handsome, and her satin heels are nearly out the door when he reaches out and pulls her into a long, smoky kiss. I’m not promising bourbon can do this for you. But try ordering it the next time you saddle up at your favorite watering hole. Chances are, the bartender will have a decent selection. Because bourbon’s back, baby, and with a bang.

It’s New Year’s again, and whether you think it’s the ultimate party or the ultimate amateur night, you’re probably drinking a sparkling beverage. Notice that I didn’t say “Champagne.” You can only use the word Champagne for sparkling wine if it comes from the Champagne region of France, and is made in the serious and complicated old-school method. With the economy still in the tank, it may be better to venture beyond this esteemed region (and its $30+ price tags) and find some bottles that are unique and affordable, while being every bit as bubbly.

As 2009 draws to a close, the elaborate cocktail craze is still going strong. Recent additions like Raines Law Room, Rye House, and Mayahuel show that New Yorkers remain plenty into expanding their alcohol horizons. Working up an involved cocktail for home entertaining is a good way to expose your guests to something they might not otherwise know exists. Jim Meehan of PDT sends along a recipe that makes use of some intriguing obscurities.

It’s that time of year again, when we venture out into the bitter cold and brave the vast retail wilderness in quest of holiday treasures. Exactly one hundred years ago, also at this time of year, Anglo-Irish explorer Ernest Shackleton was out freezing his bum off on a quest for the South Pole. To warm the crew’s spirits, they brought along a few cases of McKinlay and Co. “Rare Old” whisky -- at £1.40 a case, hardly the good stuff, so they probably weren’t overly put out when bad weather forced them to dump it not a hundred miles short of their goal. It’s been sitting there ever since, frozen solid. Next month an expedition team plans to retrieve a sample in an attempt to replicate the original liquor. Hey, I’m down for a whisky popsicle. But I think I’ll skip the trip down south and instead whip up an Iced Cranachan, a frosty spin on a traditional Scottish dessert.

After years in the Mexican food wilderness, things are starting to turn in New York. Tequila bars are popping up all over, and we’re discovering authentic Mexican cooking that goes light years beyond tacos and tortas. Chef Julieta Ballesteros is at the forefront of this wave. Her elegant Chelsea spot Crema is known for sophisticated Mexican preparations, inspired by the chef’s native Monterrey, Mexico. Crema’s bar has also generated plenty of buzz(es), serving up creative margaritas along with classic micheladas and mojitos. This time of year, a creamy Mexican eggnog enters the rotation. According to author Karen Hursh Graber, rompope dates back to the early 1600s and the Convento de Santa Clara in Puebla. The drink was adapted from the European-style milk drinks brought over by the Spanish. The recipe below is creamy, refreshing, and a big step up from ordinary eggnog.

I remember watching One Tree Hill five years ago, when Chad Michael Murray was the hunkiest of hunks (before he became that jerk who cheated on Sophia Bush and got engaged to a high-school senior). Even though CMM is long gone, and the show had to switch its 9pm slot with Gossip Girl, One Tree Hill still has a pulse. Now in its seventh season, a new underdog has been introduced -- a charming, bearded bartender whose onscreen personality is not too different from his real one. Actor Mike Grubbs plays a version of himself, a character called "Grubbs" who has a knack for guessing what customers want to drink before they order. Grubbs is more than just an alcohol clairvoyant; he reveals himself to be a talented musician with hidden demons, too. (Would you expect any less from the CW?)

Last week I took a holiday wine class at Paris’s L'Atelier des Chefs. I drink a lot of wine, but with little discretion. Whether it's this year's Beaujolais from the corner alimentation generale, or something a little more aged from Nicolas (a liquor store as prevalent here as Dunkin’ Donuts is in Boston), I will happily take a glass in hand. But since moving to Paris, I've decided to become an ever-so-slightly more knowledgeable enthusiast. The class was a success on several fronts: I learned the seven basic steps to wine tasting, avoided the chunky deer pâté without being detected (sorry, I'm not so French yet that I can eat Bambi), and -- the best part -- I discovered the most brain-erasing dessert wine (it's 17% alcohol) I've ever had in my life.

Another day, another lesson from the prosts working my local all-hours bar: vomiting on the practical pumps of morning commuters rushing for the train, now totally acceptable. The stigma of ante meridiem boozing, like panties in public, is a thing of the past -- even the New York Times says so. In turn, early bird tipplers like Cobble Hill’s Clover Club and East Village tequila den Mayahuel are teaching brunchers that ordering a mimosa is akin to coming out as Tiger Woods’ fourth mistress. Tacky, yo. Because in the past Ed Hardy did not exist, mixologists are naturally looking back to the 19th century for inspiration. “You always read about these ‘eye-openers,’ ‘fog-cutters,’ ‘phlegm-cutters,’ ‘morning glories,’” Fort Defiance owner St. John Frizell tells the Times. “They were arguably more popular than cocktails at night.”

If you put on Thanksgiving dinner this year, you’ve probably been avoiding the kitchen the last few days, taking it easy, microwaving leftovers. I was only a grateful guest this time around, but working up a homemade pecan-pumpkin pie was enough to justify a trip to the local pub. A friend recently tipped me off to the Bronx Ale House, a cozy new brew joint that more than meets the needs of northern Manhattanites and western Bronxites. Just down the street from the landmark Riverdale Diner, this cheery, boisterous tavern boasts a daily menu of compelling craft beers on tap, along with great comfort grub like cheesy chili-bacon fries and beer-battered dill pickles. I settled in next to the crackling fireplace and indulged in a sweet dark Ten Fidy (easily my new favorite stout) and a succulent beer-marinated Kingsbridge steak sandwich. That stout got me thinking about a cold-weather pub grub fave: shepherd’s pie. In the spirit of fine beer, comfort food, and a handy way to use up some of those Thanksgiving leftovers, here’s an easy, cheesy recipe for shepherd’s pie that’ll put a little Bronx in your Brit.

Fellow Americans, here’s a Black Friday public service announcement. Just because, on the day after Turkey Thursday, you’re suffering the tryptophan DT’s and have recently been reminded that both crazy and cankles run in your family, does not mean that you can cause the death of another human over a $35.95 Tickle Me Flat Screen Wii or any other item on super sale. I know, easier said than done. Can I suggest self-medicating? The Plaza Hotel’s legendary Oak Room is offering the next best thing: free fancy scotch. One dram of Dalmore Gran Reserva single malt for every frazzled FAO Schwarz survivor who decided not to bite off someone’s face, and has instead directed his rage towards black truffle lobster tacos, squid ink, and quail-yolk ravioli.