Cocktails and Consoles Written by Elias Eells Illustrated by Solji Lee Published by Running Press
The Skinny: A guide for gamers looking to expand their palates and mixologists looking for new inspiration.
Cocktails and Consoles is neither a definitive guide to mixology nor gaming, but it is a mixture of the two hobbies into a whole that is both satisfying and enjoyable, embracing whimsey from both ends of the spectrum. Written by Elias Eells, host of Youtube Channel Bar Cart Book Shelf, this collection of seventy-five cocktails and mocktails inspired by video games of all different vintages and genres shows a passionate love for both the shaker and the controller. But what is notable about this collection is the love of craft that is evident in its creation. An assembly of cocktail recipes inspired by video games could on its surface be a slam-dunk low effort product, quickly churned out and just as quickly forgotten. But Eells’ passion for mixology and gaming shines through, and he takes the reader through the subject with thoughtfulness and care, taking nothing for granted about the reader’s level of comfort for either drink or gaming. The recipes in the book vary from simple to complex, with a section at the front detailing the tools you’ll need as well as some of the more exotic ingredients. It even comes with recipes to makes some of the more complex mixers, from simple syrup all the way to your own orgeat. Each recipe is inspired by a different game, from Pong all the way up to 2023’s Elden Ring. There is a single paragraph for each game, and a few illustrations and side bars provide context for the recipes. The drinks match well with the games, either with color and style, as with the Mariogarita, or by being based on in-game drinks, such as the Final Fantasy XIV ether. Souji Lee’s illustrations and designs are eye-catching and iconic. They add color and a little extra something to the page. The layouts are colorful and flow easily, from the description of the game, to the drink, the the recipe, with extra boxes scattered for additional tips and information. But the book itself is only half of the equation. With Cockails and Consoles as my guide I visited my local liquor and specialty grocery and stocked up on tools and supplies to make some of the drinks from the book. I started with the Mariogarita, which was a tart and bright delightful take on the margarita. The campari added something that did more than just give the drink Mario’s signature bright red color. The Ring Drop, inspired by Sonic the Hedgehog, was bright blue from curaçao, and with two ounces of vodka, definitely goes fast. Cocktails and Consoles is a welcome edition to the library for the gamer or armchair mixologist, and makes a great gift. You can find it wherever you buy books. And also follow Ellis Eells’ YouTube channel, Bar Cart Bookshelf, where he pairs cocktails with reviews of new Fantasy and Science Fiction books.
Loot the bodies. It was my mentor’s first rule, and I hated him for it at first. The old man explained that we weren’t soldiers, and we weren’t heroes. We were adventurers. We solved problems that the other guilds wouldn’t. Sometimes, the only path forward was with the key in a dead foreman’s pocket, or the only clue was the scrap of paper clutched in a dead assassin’s hand. And the rings and gold pouches didn’t hurt either. It got easier every time. But I was unprepared when the corpse’s hand grasped my wrist and dead eyes reopened glaring red.
In this episode: Princess Marie-Louise does a bit of light kidnapping, gets bored halfway through, and wanders off to witness… a murder!? With the Princess’s life on the line, George faces off against Gentle Chapman, the possibly undead Neo English champion, while Domon and Allenby stop Michelo Chariot’s Team Rocket-esque assassination attempt. Plus, Allenby discovers bubble tea!
The teacup was delicate and beautiful. It was a luminous white decorated with tiny pale blue flowers. I held it awkwardly, terrified that it would shatter in my hand. I needn’t have worried. “What a beautiful tea set,” I said, holding out my cup for the hostess to pour from the matching pot. “Thank you,” she said. “I made it myself. It’s a little hobby of mine.” She poured gracefully, not spilling a drop. “That’s amazing! What material do you use?” “It’s bone china,” the necromancer said as the cup handle flexed and began to wrap itself around my wrist.
It was not the sort of house people whispered about or looked away from when they walked by. It was a beautiful cape cod, with spotless white siding and an impeccably manicured lawn. If you asked the neighbors, they wouldn’t be able say who lived there. But lights went on and off inside at the correct time. Smoke came from the chimney, and the garden changed with the seasons. Sometimes, someone would ring the doorbell, and the front door would open on a dark and silent foyer. If they stepped inside, the house would snap the door shut behind them.
We’d been rivals since we were children. In school, sports, and even games. We didn’t hate each other, but he could never let me win, and I was the same way with him. This continued all through high school. I read a lot of fan fiction in those days, and when I came across the ‘enemies to lovers’ trope, and it put things into sharp relief for me. One day I worked up the nerve to ask him out, and he accepted. We went on one date, but it was a disaster. There isn’t a way to win a kiss.
The Vampire came, and the men of the city were powerless to stop him. There was nothing in them that was strong enough to resist his influence, much less his power. They had grown weak, distant from one another. He wriggled in through the cracks and took what he wanted, which was everything. The men hid behind symbols that stood for nothing now but their own avarice, carrying mystical weapons that were mere superstition. From his new throne he laughed at the weakness of men. But when he called their women to him, they had stakes hidden behind their backs.
He dwelt in darkness under the earth. He lived in the lower regions and hunted eyeless fish in cold subterranean lakes. He was content for a long time. Then the noises came from above. He heard digging, and drilling, and strange voices that seemed to call to him. As they grew closer, his curiosity became insatiable. He found himself climbing up winding stairs and through artificial waterways, until he climbed an iron ladder and found himself in a vast stretch of light and noise. The surface creatures were strange, ugly things. But he did his best not to be afraid.
The traveling preacher won the hearts and minds of the locals with his fire and brimstone rhetoric. He made a place for himself by making friends and giving them cushy jobs in his church organization. Soon hehad a gang of loyal enforcers, but he needed something more to fully take over. He explained one chilly autumn Sunday that witches were to blame for their faded rustbelt town’s troubles. Once he whipped up the crowd and they chose a victim, they’d be his forever. But the Crones had protected the town for generations, and his cronyism was no match for them.
After I started having strange, sudden pains, I went to the ER and they took an x-ray. After demanding to know if I had ingested or ‘inserted’ anything, the doctor handed me the tablet. A human hand was growing out of my torso, skeletal fingers distinct against my ribs. “We’d like you to stay for observation,” he said. I agreed, silently fretting that this was too weird for insurance to cover. Every day, the skeleton grew a little more, sprouting an arm, then a shoulder. Nothing the doctors tried worked, but eventually I left the hospital a whole new person.
Hugh J. O'Donnell 