This recipe has become a family favorite over the years. It is quick and simple. It can be made ahead and re-warmed. It is delicious with couscous or rice and a steamed green vegetable. The chicken recipe was adapted from The Classic Italian Cookbook by Marcella Hazan. Knopf, 1982.

So you stocked your bar as per my instructions last week, right? Well, if not, read my last post and then we’ll resume.

Are you with me now? OK, good.

When it comes to buying liquor for parties, I always go for volume and buy vodka and rum in the 1.5 liter size. The per-unit price is actually less than buying a smaller bottle, and you don’t have to worry about running out. I also recommend hitting Costco , BevMo , or a supermarket, as they will generally have much better deals and variety.

And now for the drinks…

You will need a 2- quart pitcher for each drink. You can fancy it up a bit by using nice glass pitchers, or even a large wine carafe. In a pinch you can even use a large mixing bowl, throw in a ladle and call it a punch party.

Each drink will start with a mix of vodka and triple sec at a 3/1 ratio. Considering the volume, you don’t even need to be completely accurate. I usually use a standard coffee mug to measure. Remember to taste as you mix and adjust the flavors until they taste good to you.

The first drink is a variation on the cosmo. You will need:

• 6 cups vodka-triple sec mix
• 3/4 cup limeade, or fresh lime juice
• cranberry juice to taste

Combine all ingredients in pitcher, and stir. Be careful when using lime or lemon products, as some will be substantially more tart than others. You can always add a little more later, but it’s much harder to fix a drink that is too sour. Lime juice is very sour as opposed to limeade, which has added sugar.

Another good option is this tropical drink. You’ll need:

• 6 cups vodka-triple sec mix
• 1½ cups peach or mango nectar.
• orange juice to taste

Combine all ingredients in pitcher and stir. I recommend nectars instead of juices because they are much more concentrated in flavor. So while they may cost a bit more, you only need to use a little to bring a fresh pop of flavor to your drinks. I recommend Looza™ products, but any other nice nectars will do. If you can’t find any, you can also substitute pineapple juice.

To serve these drinks, put them out with a separate bowl of ice for people to serve themselves. You want the flavors to be strong, so the first time your drink should meet any ice is when you mix them in your glass. That way the ice will mellow out the flavors without watering down the drink.

One final note: use smaller glasses. Bars will never serve you a nice cocktail in a large glass, neither should you. Whether you are using glass or plastic, chose smaller glasses no larger than 10 oz. The drinks will taste better, the mix will last longer, and at the end of the night you won’t have all those half empty glasses all over the place.

Happy Mixing!

Fresh Chinese wheat noodles (gan mein) are a BrokeAss’s best friend in the kitchen. Found in Asian markets, health food stores, and well-stocked supermarkets, they are essentially fresh pasta—but for about 1/3 of the price. They are the perfect base for this spicy pesto because they are chewy and sturdy but also light in flavor and so nicely absorb the flavorful sauce. This recipe is also a great time to use all of the cilantro herb—leaves and stems—just make sure you wash them very well to be sure to remove the dirt and sand. If you’re not a cilantro fan, try this dish using mint or Thai basil.

Hard times have gripped the city. I have not been spared, and tonight, as desperation and cold overwhelm me, I have begun to disassemble my furniture for firewood. I kneel to stoke the flames, then pace across my floor to keep warm. Like many miserables struck down by poverty, I can scarcely afford beer – least of all the good stuff from our local craft breweries – but I have some tricks up my sleeve. Actually, they dwell in my cellar – and have been for years: beers brewed during the Clinton administration.

Old beers are not generally available in markets – even specialty beer shops – and the best way to get possession of aged specimens is to buy them fresh for a couple of bucks, stash them away, and wait, as I have done. In a store, such antiquated 12-ounce specimens could run $10 or more – but I have outwitted the market. I meant to save them for my wedding day, but my willpower has withered with the economy – and, hell, most brides want Champagne, anyway. With little pomp and scant circumstance, I raid the cellar and crack open one of my oldest bottles. It is a 2000 Sinebrychoff Porter ($3.25 for 12 oz) from Finland. If a smoky fire of chairs and tables can’t keep me warm tonight, perhaps this baby can.

The color: Held to my withering gas lamp, the porter is impenetrably dark. Enough said. The smell: It’s a bit dirty and heavy on bitter coffee and chocolate. Another smell. Definitely some fig and prune – and more dirt. The taste: It’s a bit soy-saucy, yet rich, dark, fudge-like and just a bit sour. This relic is a time capsule, and I am proud to claim the honor of drinking a beer made before I had an email address. In the mouth the porter is creamy, with some burned caramel, but on the finish, I taste dirt. This brew, I decide, has lived and prospered – and peaked long ago.

The cold deepens as night wears on. Sleep is impossible, and the beer demons haunt me further. I beg for the strength to hold myself back – Lord, give me the will, the fortitude, the conviction! – but I am only a man and I do it: I storm into my cellar, seize a bottle, and take my corkscrew to a 1999 Harvey and Son Imperial Extra Double Stout ($4.99 for 12 oz.).

I let the beer breathe while I break another stool and feed the fire. That was the last of my furnishings – my books are next – so I sit on the cold floor and study this beer. Brewed in England and 9 percent ABV, it’s black as an eternity of midnights. It smells of licorice and a bit of vinegar. In the mouth, it’s lush and creamy. The taste is of strong licorice, brown sugar, dark coffee and a tad too much soy sauce, by my beer standards. Though the beer is a fine “experience beer,” I would not call it exceptional. The bubbles have mostly departed the stout, and it’s lonesomely still. Its floral hop essence has all but withered, and the beer tastes distinctly old. On my last sips I find deeper flavors of gum, jelly, rubber, steel, farm-fresh manure and Watsonville fertilizer. This is another beer that has passed its prime.

Ten years have passed like a breeze since its making, and I, like the beer, have come to no good, burning my belongings to last through the night. Now my tippler is empty and my fire withers to embers, and I crawl to bed. Two beers under, I should sleep deeply, and the beer demons have departed – for now.

But other temptations dwell in my cellar. One is our own city-made Speakeasy Old Godfather Barleywine ($2.99 for 12 oz.), which bears the passage of time with utmost grace – at least to two years of age. I recently tasted one such specimen beside a fresh one, and the elder was far superior. While the fresh beer bore bright and sparkling hop aromas and flavors, it was far simpler. The aged version was thick-bodied, more syrupy, toffee-like and brawny with a caramel essence. I can only wonder how long the beer can go before peaking. Time will be the judge of that.

A tip for those who seek the old stuff: Don’t try and be the epicurean connoisseur by “pairing” cheese, chocolate or some other cliché to these beers. Their very nature – old, rare, wonderful – calls for an untarnished palate, to say nothing of a palate clogged up with stinking cheese and goopy fudge.

Give traditional enchiladas a fun tweak by using salsa verde instead of red enchilada sauce. This recipe is hearty, satisfying and inexpensive enough to leave you with enough extra cash for a 6-pack of Corona to go along with it.