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Welcome to 5 O’Clock Somewhere, a new series in which our network of culinary all-stars share their favorite drinks—along with everything you need to serve them in style.
With the exceptions of obligatory, harshly-lit holiday dinners, my parents weren’t big on hosting. I can’t remember a single time either one of them ever had a cocktail party, let alone mixed up an actual cocktail. Still, if someone happened to stop by—because when I was growing up in the ’80s and ’90s, friends and family would, on occasion, pay an unannounced visit—each had a signature alcoholic offering in the fridge.
My mom’s was a big jug of Carlo Rossi wine—sometimes red, sometimes pink, always sweet. Across town (my parents divorced when I was young), my dad reliably had anywhere from a few cans to a full case of Bud Light.
I’m proud to say that this apple fell far from the tree—at least as far as hosting is concerned. I regularly throw parties, put a lot of thought into lighting when I do, and I’ve earned a bit of a reputation for my cocktail-making skills. In fact, that’s how I ended up with a bottomless batched Negroni in my fridge.
Last spring I was planning to visit a friend who loved my take on the drink (more on that later), so I made a big batch in an old whiskey bottle as a host gift. Plans changed and the bottle sat full in my fridge for weeks, until I had some neighbors over for a very impromptu Memorial Day porch party. I knew the cocktail wouldn’t have spoiled since it was made entirely of spirits, but with time for the flavors to meld, it had gotten even better.
Within minutes of my guests’ arrival, I was handing them speakeasy-worthy Negronis in fluted cocktail glasses with freshly-peeled orange twists.
Actual footage of me serving my batched Negroni on Memorial Day.
Jennifer Sommers
I felt like I’d finally pulled off the kind of Martha Stewart-esque effortless entertaining that had always seemed so unattainable to me—a single, working mom with ADHD who usually panic cleans before even the most casual get-together.
I wanted to be (or at least appear), that cool, calm, and collected forever (or at least every time I had guests), so that night I washed the bottle, mixed up another batch, and put it back in the fridge.
The fridge Negroni quickly became my “house cocktail” and now I make a point of keeping the bottle full, whether I’m mixing up a fresh batch or topping off half of one.
My fellow Kansas City-based colleague, Wired’s commerce director Martin Cizmar, admits he was initially skeptical when he dropped off a product sample and I offered him a pre-mixed Negroni “from a big ol’ jug.”
“I started doing the math on how this would go wrong,
