Dairy-Free White Russian

The second week of December, and the library is hosting a virtual holiday book drive — books collected contactlessly, distributed to families in need, the annual tradition adapted to the pandemic with the ingenuity that librarians bring to everything: the ability to find a way when the way is blocked, to route around the obstacle, to deliver the books to the children even when the building cannot hold the children, because the books matter more than the building, and the children matter more than the books.

James is finishing his junior year at College of Charleston. His grades are strong, his path is set, and the setting is the law — law school next year, applications due in January, the future arriving on schedule even when the present has been derailed. He mentioned Elise on the phone on Tuesday — four times in one call — and the mentions have lost their casualness and acquired the deliberate quality of a man who is integrating a name into his daily vocabulary, the way you integrate a new word into your speech: first self-consciously, then naturally, then so naturally that the word becomes part of the language and the language is richer for it.

Carrie is finishing her first semester at Emory. She has earned A's in everything and has decided, with the particular confidence of a woman who considers modesty an impediment, that she is "the best English student at Emory," a statement that may or may not be accurate but that is entirely Carrie: bold, specific, delivered without apology, the way Mama delivers judgments about cooking and Reverend James delivered sermons about God.

I have been writing the cookbook outline — not at the desk but at the kitchen table, because the outline belongs to the table where the cooking happens, not the desk where the writing happens. The outline is a list of recipes organized not alphabetically or by course but by the life they accompanied: the recipes of childhood, the recipes of marriage, the recipes of loss, the recipes of rebuilding. The organization is chronological but the chronology is emotional, and the emotional chronology is the structure that will make this book not a cookbook but a memoir, and the memoir is the point.

I made Mama's eggnog — bourbon, cream, eggs, nutmeg, the too-strong Christmas drink that I make every December because Mama made it and because the too-strong-ness is the philosophy and the philosophy is Christmas.

Mama’s eggnog is its own irreplaceable thing — bourbon and nutmeg and the particular too-strong-ness that she always said was the whole point — but when I’m writing at the kitchen table and the outline stretches long and the December dark comes early, I sometimes reach for something that carries the same spirit without the production: a Dairy-Free White Russian, cold and creamy and unapologetically rich, the kind of drink that says the season matters and you matter in it. It’s the version I make when the full eggnog ceremony belongs to Christmas Eve and I need something right now, tonight, at this table, between the recipe for loss and the recipe for rebuilding.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: 1

Ingredients

2 oz vodka
1 oz Kahlua or coffee liqueur
1 1/2 oz full-fat coconut milk or oat creamer, chilled
1 cup ice cubes
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Fill the glass. Add ice cubes to a short rocks glass or lowball glass until nearly full.
Pour the spirits. Pour the vodka over the ice first, then add the Kahlua or coffee liqueur. Do not stir yet — let the layers settle for a moment.
Add the cream. Slowly pour the chilled coconut milk or oat creamer over the back of a spoon held just above the surface of the drink so it floats gently on top, creating a layered effect.
Stir and finish. Give the drink one or two slow stirs to just combine the layers without fully blending them. The contrast of dark and cream should still be visible at the rim.
Garnish and serve. Dust with a pinch of freshly grated nutmeg if desired. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Dairy-Free White Russian — The Spirit of Mama’s Too-Strong Christmas