André Previn, versatile and prolific man of modern music, skoals his impending concert tour of Russia with a brandy alexander. Previn's particular potable, like Gaul, is divided into three parts -- equal quantities of brandy, crème de cacao and cream -- vigorously agitated with ice in shaker, then strained into frosty cocktail glass.
Fred Astaire has laid aside (for the nonce, at least) his long-time role as dance-and-song man to play host, and straight dramatic parts, on TV's Alcoa Premiere. Fred considers champagne the magnum opus of the wine world, finds it -- vintage and chilled -- a felicitous companion to brunch, dinner or post-Emmy celebrations.
Cyril Ritchard, bound for Broadway as the star of Romulus, is a fast friend of Tom and Jerry: heaping tablespoon of batter (two eggs beaten until stiff, tablespoon of sugar and pinch of nutmeg, beaten and chilled) is combined with a half jigger of rum, a jigger of bourbon or a blend in a mug filled with hot milk, sprinkled with nutmeg.
Tony Curtis, whose production company will begin filming Playboy as soon as his starring role in Taras Bulba is completed, prefers the verdant piquancy of a vodka gimlet, prepares it expertly like so: five parts vodka to one part Rose's Lime Juice, the congenial coupling to be cascaded over ice cubes and spiritedly stirred before quaffing.
Mort Sahl, pioneer comic of the coffeehouse, there acquired his affinity for that cellar-boite staple, Irish coffee. Mort begins with a prewarmed 8-ounce mug, pours in 1-1/2 ounces of Irish whiskey, a teaspoon of sugar and enough hot black coffee to reach within half an inch of the rim. After stirring, he tops it with chilled whipped cream.
Burgess Meredith, an unreconstructed martini man who has just added Advise and Consent to a yard-long list of screen credits, casts his gin in an icily pristine starring role, the olive in support, with the driest of vermouths taking only the briefest of walk-ons. When pressed for more specific details, Meredith prescribes an 8-to-1 ratio.
