A week ago, I went to happy hour with a friend. I usually order a glass of wine but decided to order a cocktail this time. The one specially priced for the occasion consisted of (if I remember correctly) vodka, cranberry juice, grapefruit juice, lime juice, and simple syrup. I requested that the mixologist dispense with the simple syrup. My friend followed suit; American-level sweets are too much for the both of us. The mixologist agreed but warned that the freshly-squeezed lime juice was potent. The color of the drink was a beautifully-subdued shade of pink. Its tartness was pleasing. As we sipped, the mixologist set to work on several concoctions for others. One drink called for a blackberry on a cocktail pick. Another, a blow-torched sprig of pine, the scent of which could only be described as the epitome of the season. I imagined myself behind the bar mixing and blow-touching to my heart’s content. Then, I came down to earth and rounded up some books that might be hepful to the home mixologist.