It’s a chicken/egg kind of question—does Georg Riedel love wine, or does he love the glass it’s poured into? The answer is both, but which came first? Riedel is a 10th generation Austrian glassmaker who temporarily left behind his beloved grapes to show the world that spirits have glass too. Riedel, who has an aristocratic air to him and the appearance of a Bond villain (Dr. Pinot?), has designed a trio of spirit glasses—cognac, scotch whiskey, and tequila—to seduce optimal taste and aroma from the glass and into your sense receptors. Listening to Riedel discuss his new creations, and the fluids they cradle, is akin to hearing Shakespeare muse on love. The medicinal smell of a whiskey reminds him of a childhood pharmacy in the Austrian plains. Tequila in the wrong glass has lost its maturity, become cold, and narrow. For Riedel, drinking a spirit from the wrong glass is like watching Lawrence of Arabia on an iPhone. But if it’s the right one, then bliss. So as he would say, pick up your glass, tilt your head back, and initiate flow.

Summer’s here, which means blockbuster movie time. In Hollywood, that means making a big night out of going to the Arclight (a fantastic movie theater where you can reserve a specific seat), followed by dinner at the Hungry Cat. The chic, intimate restaurant is known for its raw bar and extra-fresh produce; there’s no proper bar, though there is a raw bar where you can sit on a stool and order food and drinks. Plus, the Cat's got some of the best mixology around, enhanced by local produce from Schaner Farms, McGrath Family Farms, and Vicki Bernard of Bernard Farms.

Premium tequila 1800 Silver curated nine artists from such mezcal-friendly ports as, uh, Atlanta, Oakland, and Detroit to dress up their new limited edition 1800 Essential series. The best of the bunch—naturally—hails from Mexico City. Jorge Alderete’s devilish piece, he says, is meant to “evoke the effect of Tequila in us—and in some instances, this has to do with making the monster we carry within. Tequila will take us to that place where we transform ourselves and we externalize, and in some cases we will see the devil.” Hell, yeah! ($35).

There are many reasons to visit Comme Ca in LA's West Hollywood, but the best is the beverages. Trained by the school of Milk & Honey, the bartenders blend fresh produce and top-shelf liquor into dreamy combinations. Cocktails take such importance at the restaurant that they are featured on the main menu, listed between "Fruits de Mer" and "Sides."

S. Hector Bury, bartender at Joe's Restaurant, likes to name his cocktails after David Bowie songs. Rightly enough, his “Lady Stardust” seems like a song in a glass—one popular on the radio during summertime, like Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love.” The combination of top-shelf champagne and fresh citrus makes for a light, crisp cocktail that's deceptively light. Use it as a chaser between "strong" drinks at your peril. (I did, and I have the hangover to prove it.)

On a recent Friday night, I headed to downtown LA bar Seven Grand with some friends in the know who swore by the cocktails. I was surprised to see a velvet rope and line outside—it was almost enough to make me turn around and go home. I’m of the strong opinion that patience is a virtue best untested when it comes to nightlife. My cohorts convinced me stick around, and after about five minutes (what was the point?), we were granted access. It was worth it after all. Seven Grand’s exceptional cocktails fit right in with the bar’s gentlemanly hunting club theme: strong, classic, distinct. There’s nothing girly about the combos of fresh fruit, top-tier liquor, and expert mixology. It doesn’t come cheap, though. The cocktail menu includes $10 juleps plus a $15 deposit required for the silver cup, crustas, punches, fizzes, and sours.

Humphrey Bogart on his deathbed lamented foremost having switched from scotch whiskey to martinis. Well, Bogey, it’s not called the “water of life” for nothing.

On Tartan Day, April 6th, we remember the Scots, who like two things naked, and one of them is malt whiskey. Here, a taste of the highlights of the Highlands and the Lowlands, neat. With sweet, delicate notes, the 18-year-old Johnnie Walker Gold ($85), best drunk chilled (sincerely), lives up to its name—pure, mellow alchemy. Lagavulin 21-Year-Old ($300) tastes of licking a fireplace (without the creosote aftertaste). It’s a glorious thing on some people’s tongues, but requires a braver heart for others—it’s a barefoot hot-coal walk, over a smoldering peat bog.

Bedell Cellars, owned by Co-CEO of New Line Cinema, Michael Lynne, recently released a new red wine. Called Musée, it's sort of a Merlot, kind of a Cabernet, and a bit Petit Verdot. It's this unexpected combination that makes the potable so unique—that, and the fact that all the grapes were harvested from the winery's vineyards on Long Island. Bedell Cellars is known for collaborating with contemporary artists to design their artful labels—Eric Fischl, Barbara Kruger, and Ross Bleckner have all contributed. Musée's label was designed by Chuck Close and features a bunch of grapes in Close's photorealist style.

In the celebratory frenzy of uncorking a bottle of bubbly, little thought is given to the name on the label. However, as Champagne Nicolas Feuillatte introduces the latest addition to its family of fine wines, the name gracing the bottle becomes more than a product, but an innovation. Their new trio of champagnes—brut, extra brut, and ultra brut (the latter being sugar-free)—is recognizing “current lifestyle philosophies constantly on the lookout for purity, natural products, and authentic cuisine.”

New Orleans' favorite beer is back on the Bayou (and in a few Yank bars).

My grandfather chased his bourbon with it, my father stocked his fraternity house with it, and it was my first stolen sip of beer as a kid. I can still remember the green and white label looking up at me from the bottom of an ice chest at a barbecue when I was twelve—magnified by a foot of water and the lure of the forbidden, promising Southern manhood by the ounce. Even at twelve, I’d heard the name enough to know that Dixie beer had a cultural significance in Louisiana on par with LSU football, gumbo, and humidity. Even Walker Percy gave it due reverence when he wrote that one can “eat crawfish and drink Dixie beer and feel as good as it is possible to feel in this awfully interesting century.” Dixie beer has been washing down Gulf oysters and boiled crawfish since 1907, but has been on a hurricane hiatus for the past two years since the brewery was flooded by Katrina and then dismantled by looters.