Apple Mack

Nihon's Apple Mack

2 oz Johnnie Walker Red
2 oz apple juice
3/4 oz ginger syrup
sprinkle of cinnamon

To make the ginger syrup, simmer 1/4 pound peeled, fresh ginger and 1/4 cup sugar in 2 1/2 cups water for 30 minutes. Strain and let cool.

Combine everything in an ice-filled shaker. Shake mixture and strain into a martini glass.

My First Mint Julep

I didn't jump on the mint julep bandwagon last year because I thought that mint juleps weren't very good- all sweet and syrupy and you could only drink one before you came down with a cosmopolitan-like sugar headache.

But as I've been experimenting with different forms of muddling (this is what I do for fun), it was time to face the music and see if I could make a mint julep that wasn't god- awful.

I was lazy and decided not to make simple syrup for my mint julep. Simple syrup is just sugar in water, melted into syrup. Many restaurants are making specialty flavored simple syrups to go into specific cocktails, but I'm not at that level of experimentation just yet.

So I just used powdered sugar in water (this is a legitimate recipe; don't make fun of me), muddled with mint leaves and topped with ice and bourbon. On first sip the ingredients are all separate on the tongue, but after sitting for just a minute or two (one mint julep recipe insists you let the flavors blend for "at least three minutes"), this drink becomes amazing.

Now I get it! A mint julep is not a sugary drink, nor is it a mint-and-whiskey drink. The mint juleps I've had in the past had way too much simple syrup in them, making them so sweet as to overwhelm the whiskey. And the combination of mint and bourbon changes both flavors like magic to make the mint taste less minty and the bourbon taste both less harsh and also fresh as a Kentucky breeze. Consider me converted.

Now that I know how wonderful the average old do-it-yourself-at-home mint julep tastes, I had better get out to the bars and try some made by professionals before derby season.

Pumpkin Chai Cocktail Recipe

I made more pumpkin pie infused vodka to take to a Thanksgiving dinner yesterday, but after I strained out the pumpkin goop through coffee filters, I found it didn't taste at all like the other two batches I'd made. It didn't taste like cinnamon and baked pie; it tasted like plain old pumpkin. And honestly, that's kind of yucky on its own. I think I know what I did wrong- I didn't stir the pumpkin pie mix before I added it to the vodka in the first place. All the good artificial flavorings must have been in the bottom part of the can.

So with ten minutes to go before I had to leave for Thanksgiving dinner, I started experimenting with all of the mixers in my bar. I tried it with dry vermouth, sweet vermouth, powdered cinnamon, soy milk, tonic, and various bitters. Nothing was working, so in an act of desperation I mixed it with the chai tea-in-a-box I'd bought to try to recreate the spiced chai rum drink from Medjool.

Chai tea and pumpkin vodka was absolutely fantastic. The chai gave the drink enough of the spicy flavors to take the edge off the raw melon of the pumpkin, and the pumpkin mellowed the black tea harshness of the chai. Together it was a great fall cocktail. As a bonus the drink is the color of apple cider, so it even looks the part.

The drink was a surprise hit at Thanksgiving dinner, with people switching from wine to the cocktail once they tried it. I ran out by the end of the night. Not bad for a drink created in ten minutes.

Camper's Pumpkin Chai Cocktail

1 part ice-cold pumpkin pie infused vodka (scoop pumpkin pie mix into a jar of vodka, seal, let sit for one week in the freezer, strain through a coffee filter).
1 1/2 parts chai tea. I used the Tazo chai tea that comes in a box similar to soy milk, found in my local convenience store.
Mix together and serve up in a martini or wine glass.

Rum and the Cuban Manhattan

I flipped past another 20 or so pages of egg white drinks then finally landed upon the Cuban Manhattan. It calls for white rum, sweet and dry vermouth, Angostura bitters, and a cherry. Can do!

The drink tastes like a Manhattan minus the whiskey. I suppose that’s to be expected. There is the same sweet and dry vermouth combination and cherry topping. To see if I could taste the rum in the drink at all, I had a sip of it straight. I was drinking Bacardi, so I didn’t expect much.

Holy moly! I’ve completely forgotten what rum tastes like. When I recall it, my mouth puckers with sugary sweetness. I guess my taste buds don’t know what they’re talking about. To their defense, even Beverages and More’s website, which usually has a pretty succinct and accurate description of their beverages, lists it as “The number one selling rum in the world; good in any number of tropical drinks from Mai Tai's to Pina Coladas!” That’s like saying “it’s weak and gross, but if you cover it up with enough fruit you won’t even notice!”

I disagree. The Bacardi is rich and interesting on its own. The nose reminds me of sharp, pure alcohol (okay, rubbing alcohol) with a strong natural scent of banana or plantain peels. I had to sniff it about 20 times before I could identify that smell, nearly hyperventilating in the process like when you get lightheaded blowing up an inflatable raft. Anyway, the taste isn’t light and sweet at all; it’s very rich- all coffee and chocolate tastes. Wild!

None of that comes through in this Cuban Manhattan cocktail unless you’re really, really looking for it, and still it’s hard to distinguish it from the bitters. I beefed it up with the addition of a little more rum, and found it to be more interesting, if a little less user friendly.

Long story short: The drink was good, and I have a lot more to learn about rum.

After last night’s rum revelation, I decided I had better hit that drink category once again. Tonight I busted out the bottle of Bacardi gold from behind the bar. The scent of the gold rum is less sweet than that of the white, but the taste is a little less chocolate and definitely creamier. Good stuff.

It was hard to find a drink recipe that called for gold rum as opposed to dark rum. Doing a little research I learned that gold rum is really light rum, which would explain that.

From Cocktailtimes.com:

Puerto Rican Rum is noted as golden rum, light bodies and aged for a minimum of 3 years.

Though Jamaican Rum is dark, it gets most of its color from added molasses not from the cask.

So now I know. Anyway, one of the two recipes that called specifically for gold rum is the Havana Sidecar. It’s made with rum and half portions each of lemon juice and triple sec.

The drink is not good. It tastes like powdered refreshment and I do not like it. I used lemon juice from the bottle rather than fresh squeezed, and IÂ’m quickly coming to realize that this does not cut it in any drink. Even still, I doubt I would enjoy this one with fresh juice.

Drink and learn, drink and learn.

Cocktail of the Century

Cocktail of the Century

In basically a publicity-generating effort, bar glassware company Anchor Hocking conducted a survey of the most popular/defining drinks over the last century, divided into decades. (Also, the appropriate cocktail barware in which to serve them.) The martini was crowned Drink of the Century. Here they are by decade:

1900-1910
Drink: Old Fashioned

1910-1920
Drink: Singapore Sling

1920-1930
Drink: Bloody Mary

1930-1940
Drink: Manhattan

1940-1950
Drink: Mai Tai

1950-1960
Drink: Vodka Martini

1960-1970
Drink: Whiskey Sour

1970-1980
Drink: Long Island Iced Tea

1980-1990
Drink: Sex on the Beach

1990-2000
Drink: Cosmopolitan

I would agree with most of the drinks up until the 1960's, then it goes a little haywire. That said, I don't have very good recommendations for their replacements. When I think of the 60's I think of I'm feeling Scotch on the rocks- something Steve McQueen would drink, or what everyone was enjoying during disaster movies. For the 70's, I'm stuck. But not a Long Island Iced Tea. Maybe a rum and Coke.(and snortable coke to help with digestion.)For the 80's the drink should be the wine cooler, but since we're talking cocktails here I'll say the Fuzzy Navel: a drink that luckily went away with the decade. (Second runner up: the Cape Cod. Third place: The Madras.) I can't argue that the Cosmopolitan was the drink of the 90's, even though it was of the last 2-3 years of the decade only, but boy is the name an inaccurate description of the era. It was all about dressing up garishly and getting sloppy. Good times, good times.

I have a bad feeling though that the drink of the decade 2000 - 2010 will be a Red Bull and vodka. Ack.

Infused Vodkas

• Cinnamon-infused vodka. I dropped a cinnamon stick in a glass of vodka and let it sit, covered, in my freezer for six days, and it came out perfect! The flavor is all in the aftertaste, and you can tell if you let it sit and infuse for too long, it would be too sharp a taste on the tongue. It also mixes well. I tried it with ginger ale, orange juice, and in a martini, and found them all to be interesting combinations. I didn't enjoy it when mixed with tonic water though.
  
• Pumpkin Pie Filling-infused vodka. Of course, this sounds disgusting, but it came out fantastic. I took a scoop of pumpkin pie filling from the can and dropped it into a glass of vodka. Six days later it was great. As the filling is liquidy, the vodka takes on a pumpkin hue. I poured the vodka off the top to separate it form the solids, but to get all the filling particles out of the final product you can strain it through cheesecloth. The taste was not just pumpkin, but also all the spices (including cinnamon) that go into it, and somehow it also had a baked pie crust flavor to it as well. This infusion did not mix well with ginger ale, orange juice, tonic, or in a regular martini. It was okay in a martini made with sweet vermouth, but really this tasty vodka is perfect straight. I'm going to make more of it so I'll have some to share at Halloween parties next weekend. Try this one- you won't be disappointed.

The Wonders of Whiskey and Comparing Notes

Last night I was out with friends at The Page (formerly Chances, which always sounded like a gay bar name to me) for continuing experiments in whiskey tasting. They had a whiskey menu, which is great because I never wear my glasses so I can't read the labels of the bottles behind the bar. Two of our selections they didn't actually have though- it seems they bought all the whiskey, made up the menu, then realized there wasn't enough bar shelf space to put them all. Oops.

First I tried Black Bush, a terrific Irish whiskey. It only has that Irish sweetness for a millisecond, then the flavor changes to how you'd imagine velvet to taste- like its drying out your tongue, followed by a powdered chocolate taste. Great stuff. I love flavors that come in waves.

I also had a Glenlivet 15 (I think) year old. Glenlivet is a standard whiskey sold in most bars, but I don't find it to be as interesting as others in the same age and price range. It doesn't seem to have much nose or tail (aftertaste). It's all on your pallet- a delicious, spicey-smoky taste to be sure, but I think I like my whiskeys with more bells and whistles. (I'm easily distracted by shiny objects too.)

I then tried a Dalmore 12 year. The peatiness is present in this Highland Scotch, but not obtrusive as it can be in some others, and disappears before the other fruitier flavors do. It has an almost a zesty quality, with the flavor jumping from your mouth up to your nose before smoothing out in the tail end. Nice.

The fun part about drinking whiskey is building a vocabulary by looking up the tasting notes online afterwards and seeing how wrong you were. I'll save that for another entry...

It's time to play My Tongue Versus Yours, where we compare what Camper said with what other people say about whiskey:

Black Bush
Camper Said: "It only has that Irish sweetness for a millisecond, then the flavor changes to how you'd imagine velvet to taste- like its drying out your tongue, followed by a powdered chocolate taste."
Experts Say: "Black Bush has a distinctive, full-bodied aroma with spicy, malty and nutty sweet sherry notes. It is complex and well flavored, slightly sweet with clear malt notes that are not masked by smoke."
Analysis: Were we drinking the same thing?

Glenlivet
Camper Said: "It doesn't seem to have much nose or tail (aftertaste). It's all on your pallet- a delicious, spicey-smoky taste..."
Experts Say: "Selective maturation in new Limousin oak casks, usually reserved for wine, has added delicate overtones of the spices highly prized in fine wines, while complementing the elegance of the single malt."
Analysis: We both said "spicy."

Dalmore 12
Camper Said: "The peatiness is present in this Highland Scotch, but not obtrusive as it can be in some others, and disappears before the other fruitier flavors do. It has an almost a zesty quality..." Experts Say: "Moderately full bodied; reminiscent of orange peel, dried flowers, dried fruit; Powerful sherry cask aromas; veering towards an after dinner style."
Analysis: orange peel = zesty, but otherwise we were talking about different aspects of the whiskey.

Overall, I'd say I did below average. But that's why it's called a learning curve, people!

• Aberlour 15 year old- I only have scrawled "It burns!" I remember I tried this one was near the end of the evening, which would explain that.
  
• Aberlour a'bunadh- This was also overwhelming to me. I kept adding water to it and enjoyed the sherry component of the whisky, but it was too tough for me. It almost tastes like a whisky you'd brag about drinking rather than one you enjoy drinking.
  
• The Balvenie- The Balvenie whiskies were the highlight of my evening. Not surprisingly, they got better with the age of the whisky. (Note: this isn't always the case. Age is by no means the sole determinant of quality.) I tried the 15 year single barrel and enjoyed it greatly, but not even close to how much as I enjoyed the 25 year old single cask. Unlike whiskies that wow you with their subtlety, this one presents itself to your mouth for inspection. I felt like I could almost taste the grain in the wood of the barrel in which it was stored. Amazing. I then had the 30 year old, which was also phenomenal. It differed from the 25 in that the aftertaste lasts forever, flickering on your tongue like a flip-book of flavor. I'm going to have to savor the memory of this whisky, because at about $550 a bottle, I'm probably never going to have it again.
  
• Castle Brands- I didn't love any of these Irish whiskies, which included Clontarf Irish Whiskey (Note: it's "whiskey" in Ireland and "whisky" in Scotland.) Clontarf Reserve, Clontarf Single Malt, and Knappogue Castle. My companion Amy really liked them, so there's that.
  
• Talisker 175th Anniversary- there was so much smoke my mouth said, "Where's the fire?"
  
• The Dalmore 21 year old- my notes say "really good but obscure," which I take to mean the flavor was different to the point of being inaccessible. (And "inaccessible" to me means I don't really get it. Like cilantro- I don't get it!)
• The Glenlivet- I liked the bottles I tried in reverse age order. I tried a 21 year old, an 18 year old, and a 15 year old, and liked the youngest the best. (That sentence will pretty much guarantee that pedophiles will stumble across this website.) The 15 year old French Oak was not only my favorite, but at $40 a bottle, I could actually afford it!
• Highland Park- The 18 year was terrific, and so was the 25. Highland Park is always a winner.
  
• Laphroaig- Quarter Cask- this is supposed to be more woody and sherry flavored, as more whisky is in contact with the wood. It was fine. I really liked the 15 year though- creamy goodness.
  
• The Macallan- I finally had a chance to sample their Fine Oak line. This line is designed to introduce new drinkers and women to whisky, with a lighter flavor profile due to aging in different casks. It did taste like oak. Unfortunately I learned that I don't like the flavor of oak (in this and other brands as well), so I'm not a fan of this line. I also tried the Cask Strength bottle. I thought it was too sharp on its own, but much better with added water. Still, I think I'll stick to the regular Macallan line, which is so very good just as it is.
  
• Yamazaki- I tried this Japanese whisky before on my visit to Nihon, the new whisky bar in San Francisco. Japanese whiskies are basically copies of Scotch ones, so the strong smoky peatiness of the 18 year old was no big surprise. The Sherry Wood 1986 was interesting though, with most of the sherry flavor in the finish rather than on the palette.

Cocktail Sketches Pt. 1

I didn't have my usual cocktail- the Smoking Gun. That drink is a gin and tonic with Lillet Blanc (a dry white wine aged with fruit liqueur). It's amazing and simple. The wine and gin/tonic sit on different planes on your tongue, allowing you to taste them independent of each other. It adds even more depth to a gin and tonic, which can be rich and delicious on its own when made with high end ingredients.
Pour an ounce and a half of gin over ice, add about a half ounce of Lillet Blanc, and fill with tonic. Add a wedge of lemon or lime if you choose, but I prefer the drink without it.

Finally (I guess this explains why I came home drunk so early), I had a martini made with Potrero Distillery (a.k.a. Anchorsteam Brewery)'s Junipero Gin and dry sherry instead of dry vermouth. What a simple and wonderful drink! I think the reason people want a regular martini (especially a vodka martini) so "dry" or with a lot of olives is because the aftertaste of vermouth is horrid. Vermouth seems to mellow out the some of the harshness of vodka or gin on the palette but takes its revenge on the drink’s memory. I hate dirty martinis but even I'd prefer one briny with too many olives to one with too much vermouth. Anyway, the sherry in this martini has the same effect as the vermouth on the flavor but leaves you with the memory of something richer and statelier.

Maker's Mark. This bourbon in on the menu in more and more spots, in specialty cocktails such as the Slow Club's Presbyterian (with soda and ginger ale) or fantastic Honey Kiss (with honey-vanilla simple syrup, Cointreau, and lemon). People are also specifying a "Maker's Mark Manhattan." It seems more women are ordering this drink than before. One acquaintance told me it was the "next cosmopolitan."


I decided to go seasonal and started with the spiced pumpkin martini. It was made with Skye vodka, Captain Morgan's spiced rum, and muddled pumpkin, served in a martini glass with a sugared rim. It was quite tasty, and served with a side of pumpkin seeds. The muddled pumpkin gives the drink a creamy character which is good, though by the end of the drink I was ready to move on.

Finally, I had a drink called something like (I really need to write these things down) the Ice Melt martini. It's vodka with ice wine (( īs ' wīn ' ) n. A sweet wine made from grapes that have been left to freeze on the vines) and a few other flavors. Also delicious, as you taste the sweet flavor from the wine after that of the vodka. The ice wine mostly sits at the bottom of the glass, so the drink becomes sweeter as you finish it. All the specialty drinks at the Four Seasons are served with a little side of something. This one came with frozen grapes to snack on.

I next tried the Chai Rum Elixir ($9), and it is fantastic. It's made with chai tea, Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum, and a little bit of cream. (I bought some chai tea on my way home to try to replicate this drink, but couldn't find any cream. It's all half and half these days.) The drink tastes like light eggnog, or as someone who tried mine said, a spiked horchata.

Ordering Wine

Don't know exactly what to order when you're ordering wine? Here's a tip from a professional: you look like a prick when you improvise. Cut it out.

I learned this lesson best through karaoke. The performances that the crowd clamors for are the ones that are rehearsed. Every time I get a wild hair and stray from my standards, I watch the crowd thin, gleeful expressions dwindle and the host cringe. Time to take a hint.

So here are a few tips to avoid improvisation and pricktitude at the table or bar.

1.) Never, ever listen to servers. Servers know wine like health food store clerks know how to cure cancer. I wish it wasn't so, and sometimes a rare example proves an exception, but servers are generally studying political science, in a band or finishing up their novel. They only care about wine as much as they are told to by their employers. Generally, simple and idiotic phrases like "I like it," "it's dry" and "one of my favorites" are as detailed an explanation as you'll get from the server-kind.

2.) Order by style and price. Don't bitch after you ask for a certain style of wine and then you get hit for the $300 bottle. You weren't specific. It's your fault. Of course the server or sommelier wants to get the big sale--that's how they make money, numbnuts. As long as they don't lie to you, they're well within their right.

3.) Don't stand there stammering about how you once had a wine but you can't remember the name of it. Nobody has a ready catalogue of what you drank and ate except the good Lord himself, and he'll reckon with the f-cking Pinot Grigio you had with a steak when judgement day comes. We don't know what it is; you don't know what is. Guess what, it wasn't that good. Move on.

4.) If you've had French before, but you really don't know anything about the region, you can visit this brand new, radical website called "Google." I realize French wines are tough, but visit Terroir-france.com and within 30 minutes you'll have a working knowledge of some important regions.

5.) Call ahead and ask to speak with the wine buyer or sommelier. Especially if it's an important occasion. Tell them you are a novice, some general characteristics and what you want to spend. In fact, you should at least have a few general descriptors: fruit-forward, spicy, red, etc. While some people will be annoyed, others will appreciate your sincerity.

Pisco Sour

Back in the year 2000, Peru was the first Third World country I'd ever visited. It was the first place I drove at 65 miles per hour wasted out of my gourd, barreling down lane-less highways past trucks with no fenders and fewer headlights. It was a three week haze of lemon-juice-cooked seafood, eye-searing poverty, and altitude sickness.

Regrettably, I dismissed their national cocktail, the Pisco Sour, as a local yokel novelty---akin to stooping gutter level to drink Jägermeister back home.

But Peruvians promote the drink like they would their local soccer team or the resident hippie tourist magnet, the ruins of Macchu Pichu.

It's taken six years and help from DC's newest and, IMHO, best bar to convince me that the Pisco Sour should be ranked among the top cocktails in a mixologist's repertoire.

Normally, DC Drinks considers it a tad passé to list a cocktail recipe, but an exception must be made for our new-found master of drinks. I trust Mr. DeGroff:

Pisco Sour
1½ oz. Pisco Brandy
3/4 oz. Fresh Lemon
1 oz. Simple Syrup
Several drops of Angostura Bitters
One Small Egg White

Shake all ingredients with ice and strain into a small cocktail glass. Sprinkle a few dashes of Angostura Bitters on the foam created by the egg whites.

I'd add one thing to that: you should shake that shit until your hand bones ache with cold and you have to pry your fingers from the ice-caked metal. Otherwise, you've done it wrong. The raw egg needs to be destroyed, and there's no other way to do it.

This drink is simply amazing and is a fair rival to a well-made margarita. I'm just sad that my prejudicial perceptions of Peruvian backwardness prevented me from enjoying this cocktail for six lonely years.

Your Bartender Hates You ... Here's Why

I'm going to say it even if no one else will. Secretly and passionately, your bartender hates your f-ing guts. Yes, I mean you. He or she loves your money but if you're prone to commit one or more of the following bar faux pas--and be honest with your self--then you're the bane of the barman.

1.) "I'll take that with no ice, in a large glass and make it strong."
Ok. Fine. But you're still getting 1.5 ounces. You see, the company pays for all the liquor on the shelves. It's not free and you're essentially asking something for free. The mark-ups are not outrageous; we order the liquor, polish the glassware, build the bar, pay rent and more with the pennies on top. Try it at a bank. Walk up to the teller and ask them to top off your pay check with an extra $20. See what happens.

2.) "Is [so-and-so] working tonight?"
File this one under "C", along with the last one, for cheap-ass. If they're asking for someone else, who is--after all--clearly not in sight, it's because they have no intention of paying full price for drinks. Once again, for the slower set, bars are businesses. Someone giving you free drinks is essentially selling the stool upon which you sit to the debtor's house. Don't get me wrong, a comped drink is nice, but much less so if you come to expect it.

3.) Hitting on Women That Clearly Hate You More Than the Bartender
It sounds like a joke. How about the guy who, after hitting on a solitary girl at the bar that left in disgust, turned to the lady bartender and laid down the same rap. The lady bartender, of course, laughed. That is, laughed at his expense. Too bad its not a joke. I've seen somebody play the line all the way down the bar. So why not read the non-verbal cues! If the whole bar knows your striking out, why don't you?
Walk away while you still have a shred of diginity. (They never do, do they?)

4.) Ordering Tea When the Bar is Three Deep
So why do we get upset when you order tea when the bar is busy? Because tea involves multiple steps, with each step being in-depth and at some far away, remote point in the restaurant.

Step 1: There is usually a box of tea. It gets used every third night and is kept somewhere shoved over, under or by the coffee machinery. It's rarely stocked and rarely kept in an obvious place. First we find this, bring the selection to you and you stand their stammering: Morrocan Mint or Lemon Verbana?

Step 2: Get the tea pot, tea tray, tea cup, tea saucer, tea spoon, sugar packets, Equal packets, Splenda packets, milk, honey and lemon. No explanantion needed of why this sucks, right?

Step 3: Stand there like a shithead waiting for hot water while the busboy amorously foams the cappucino.

Step 4: Serve and smile, wait for the 15 to 20% tip on $2.75. (For those who are slow, that's $.41 to $.55.)

5.) "I used to be a bartender."
I love this one. A bartender, really? I've studied and memorized the profiles of hundreds of liquors; even more, I know hundreds of recipes and how to mix them by heart; I've spent nights dreaming of the components of vermouth that you jokingly (not your own joke, I might add) say I should "wave" in front of the Martini; I know the recipe for a Mai Tai from the original made in 1944 and it doesn't have a drop of grenadine; I've studied wine for years so I can describe your Chardonnay that you thought was too expensive at $8; I've polished a thousand or more glasses; I might as well have a major in chemistry and a minor in pyschology; I know the history of bartending and have read every major recipe book from "How to Mix Drinks" to "The Joy of Mixology" and you, jackass, who have spent six months in some shitty bar or club slinging beer, shots and L.I. tea say to me: "Oh yeah, I used to be a bartender." Wrong, twat muffin. You were a bar jockey. So don't bring it up again.

Now it may seem as though I'm some bitter, bitter bartender, but I'm not. I love guests who love me, who respect the profession and don't want free shit. Everyone gets treated with respect at my bar. Even me.

Seeing Red: Craft Grenadines

If you were reading along in a bar recipe book and as a third and fourth ingredient it read, "Three drops Red Dye #40, 1/2 oz. of Corn Syrup" you'd close the book and wing it from the balcony like a foam boommerang faster than I can say polypropylene.

Making good drinks requires chemistry, but not chemistry alone. Craft products and natural ingredients are reemerging at the forefront of an "ingredients matter" philosophy of bartending.

Chief among the mixers to take a death blow is none other than the chemical syrup itself, grenadine. The reason why is simple: Corn syrup and dye just don't belong in well crafted libations, even if it's the cornerstone of the number one selling children's "cocktail."

Let's start with the shocker for those of you who have yet to explore the outerdepths of the speed rail, past the peach brandy and green creme de menthe: grenadine is made from pomegranates. Or I should say, is supposed to be made from pomegranates. (The mass produced stuff rarely is.) In fact, "granada" is the Spanish word for pomegranate.

Fortunately, alternatives to the mass produced Bols and Dekuypers Grenadine exist and they actually contain pomegranates or pomegranate extract. Even better, I've drank them with such enduring cocktails as the Jack Rose and they're delicious.

For instance, there's Fee Brothers' American Beauty Grenadine. Fee Brothers also make several flavors of bitters, so it's no surprise to find them selling craft bar mixers. Presumably named after the cocktail of the same name, American Beauty is a little medicinal with a rich character.

Then there's my personal favorite, Stirrings Authentic Grenadine. It's the real deal. With a deep red color and satisfying sweetness, Stirrings Grenadine is so delicious you could have a Grenadine over ice with soda water.

So don't toss the recipe book yet. There's still hope for Grenadine.

Please Don't Molest the Bartender: A Cautionary Tale for Wild Women

I don't know, maybe my posts are growing more and more socially conservative but I have to admit that as a bartender I've seen people at their absolute worst.

I remember repeatedly chastising two obstinate, well-soiled senior-citizen-aged drunks (a man and women) for raising their voices at the bar only to watch them slap each other's face and then make out--drool pouring from the sides of their mouths like St. Bernards and seemingly doubling their high by inhaling the alcohol from each other's breath. That was bad.

I have to report that despite seeing this and worse, I'm certain I have not truly seen the worst--not yet. In the meantime, here's close.

Some fifteen women came in to my bar the other day. They were carrying a blow-up doll and one was dressed in the pre-requisite bridal headgear for a bachorlerette party. They were all skanked out and "wild" acting, meaning drinking shots and using sexual terminology freely and loudly. Oh, so wild. It was embarrassing.

Now before I get lambasted for holding double standards, if they were guys with a female blow-up doll and saying the same they would have been removed for making obscene and lewd gestures. So the double standard worked in these skanks' favor.

As one of the bartenders walked outside of the bar, a women from the gaggle of trixies grabbed him and whispered, "Wanna do something wild?" And then molested his lads as if they were stress relieving Chinese metal balls in the palm of the hand.

What's worse is that another women filmed it. Perhaps for the next episode of Bartenders Caught Off Gaurd by Really Wild Women Who Like to Fondle Nuts. He shrugged it off but it was obvious he felt like a jackass.

So this is a cautionary tale. Women, men too, stop acting like complete morons when you come in contact with alcohol. Drunkeness is the not the problem. Egging each other on to do progressively stupider and stupider things is the problem. When reaching the point where you lose self control, consider leaving the public realm. And, above all, don't molest the bartender!

Bucket Like Proportions

A modern dilemma for a modern drinker: you order your favorite alcoholic beverage and what clinks in front of you is a monstrous bucket-like abomination that offends all your senses. You sit on your stool, stumped with disappointment.

But isn't more better?

Contemplating this thing in your face, you wonder if aliens may have escorted this beverage from the heavens (or hell--whatevs).

Are you alone? No. You're among the many cocktail connoisseurs who're perplexed every day by this modern enigma: the oversized "cocktail bucket".

But how did this happen? And how do we deal with it? Was it the late '90s trend of oversized cocktails meant to get Sex-in-the-City types wasted? That's the cliché answer. Can we lay it on the doorstep of T.G.I. Fridays' margaritas? Or is it just the result of mixology-hungry people like me?

While it's true that people are more likely to believe a simple lie than a complex truth, let me start and end with the former.

Modern bartenders are doing their jobs; people want to get drunk, so that's what the alco-slingers give them. But that's pitiful. People in our camp want more. We want a freezing cold cocktail in small proportions, craftfully made, that doesn't taste like dishwater when it hits our lips. But the gigantic-cocktail-servers are out to destory us.

So how do we fight? Rule of thumb: if over 6 ounces, common sense it trounces. Ok, that's a horrible rhyme, but you see what I'm saying ...

Vodka for your Personality Type

Ketel One – The Motivator
Ketel One would have you believe they’re a luxury brand. I suppose it’s a matter of what you consider luxury. I used to call the aftertaste peppery when someone asked. More candidly, it tastes like odorless and colorless sewage. Not exactly a luxury, my friends. That’s why it takes the motivator to drink it, recommend it and ultimately support this failing brand.

Grey Goose - The Follower
Why do you order Grey Goose? Because other people order Grey Goose, because of suggestive marketing, because you read somewhere that it was distilled a kagillion times? It's French! Did you know that? Not only are you a follower, but you're following the French. Pathetique.

Belvedere – The Observer
Much like the solitary bottle of Belvedere on a bar shelf, you’re the observer, you sit around and watch while other people order Grey Goose. What is so distinctive about Belevedere? That thin layer of dust on the bottle? Not so much.

Absolut - The Enthusiast
I don’t know how this word cropped up, but no one is a hobbyist, fan or jock any more. You're now all enthusiasts: vodka enthusiasts, table tennis enthusiasts, modeling enthusiast, etc. And now it’s a personality term. As the enthusiast you believe two things that will be your demise: (1) Lenny Kravitz is edgy and (2) Absolut is smooth. Ahem, about as smooth as sandpaper. In a word (actually two): Isopropyl Alcohol.

Smirnoff or Stolichnaya – The Skeptic
Fair enough, you believe that Smirnoff or Stoli are just as good as those fancy vodkas and the Russians do it best anyway. I'll give you credit for that. But why apply logic to the illogical? If Smirnoff or Stoli are just as good as Grey Goose is purported to be, then why not take it a step farther and drink Nikoff. Come to think of it, why do you order a name brand with a Bloody Mary anyway? Douche bag.

Skyy - The Romantic
Leave it up to the romantic to believe you can make good vodka in San Francisco. Come to think of it, leave it up to the romantic to believe you can make good vodka.

Ciroc - The Thinker
Thinker... because you think, "Hmmm, grapes make wine... wine is good... therefore, vodka made with grapes is good." One crucial piece of information seems to float away in a big river of must: it's still just vodka, jackass. You're overthinking this one. Why would grapes make any better vodka then say wheat or potatoes? Especially when it's suppose to taste like nothing.

Whiskey Tasting

We recently got together with a motley crue of whiskey geeks, restaurant critics, bar managers and modern drunkards at Bourbon restaurant in Adams Morgan in what could be the most ad hoc, randomly-chosen whiskey tasting on historical record. Most whiskies listed were discovered by wine distributor, Jase Viennan, in dingy liquor stores from Anacostia to Baltimore.

The heat packed:

Pikesville Supreme Rye; bottled 1983; Michter's Distillery: Tasting Notes: "Not very interesting. Palate was a little jacked. Lemony with some spice notes. As boring as vodka. An insult to the good name of rye whiskey."

Pikesville Rye; bottled 1992; Heaven Hill Distillery: Tasting Notes: "A real surprise. Much more complex than the big bottle. I wish I had another bottle. $2.99 never purchased so much flavor. As good as top shelf."

William Larue Weller's 121 proof bourbon: Tasting Notes: "Brown sugar, cinnamon, and buttered peaches. Heavy and dessert-like. Pretty bottle with a taste to match."

Suntory Red Japanese whiskey, purchased in Cambodia, mixed with Russell's Reserve Wild Turkey: Tasting Notes: "Disgusting, really. Shite. Good lord, I could not choke this shit down. Poured out most of the glass."

Wild Turkey; bottled 1989 (out of production): Tasting Notes: "Blast of cinnamon. Spicy and aggressive. The kickin' chicken has definitely improved since '89."

Lot 40 Malted Rye; Corby Distillers (out of production): Tasting Notes: "Honeysuckle and caramel. Like rare jewelry."

Bush Pilot (Canadian); bottled 1982; Alberta Springs Distillers (out of production): Tasting Notes: "Piss water. Now I know why they char the inside of whiskey barrels. Canada is boring."

Motgomerie's Single Cask scotch; aged in Sherry casks (independent bottling of Glenlivet from 1976): Tasting Notes: "Light but firm. Some smoke and peat, but mostly just smooth golden drinking goodness. Needs more peat!"

Interestingly enough, the hands down winner was the pint bottle of Pikesville Rye bought for $2.99 from a dusty back shelf in a shitty liquor store in Baltimore. Just goes to to show you don't need an expense account to get good whiskey.

Gin Was the Original Urban Drug

"Time and time again men and women who might ordinarily have drunk a pint or two of beer drank a pint or two of gin instead, often with disastrous consequences." - Jessica Warner, from her book, Craze

I'm currently reading Warner's excellent account of the insanity caused by cheap-ass gin on British society between 1720 and 1751. During that period, the Brits drank more gin than they did beer. Anyone who's spent any time in England should be shocked by that statistic. For those thirty years, people were dying, puking and fucking in the shit-strewn streets, smashed on gin. And it wasn't the type of gin we sip from conical cocktail glasses with olives today. Oh no. The book describes a beverage akin to mixing up Mad Dog 20/20, cheap vodka, and spiking it with Pinesol. Now imagine 75% of your city's population wasted on that concoction on a daily basis. That was London way back when.

The often bloody chaos continued for decades, wreaking havoc on English society until Parliament passed the famous Gin Act of 1751 which completely outlawed the distillaion of gin, and things returned to some semblance of normalcy.

The book is a well-written historical narrative that never gets bogged down with facts and figures. It's worth purchasing. And it's even better if you mix together the aforementioned swill of Mad Dog and vodka while reading. It's like transporting yourself back to 18th century London ... Yea.

Drunk Before Noon: My Favorite Brunch Cocktai

Brunch is the least important meal of the week. It inevitably means Sunday, which is a throw away day anyway, you are often hungover and, at best, are sharing it with a total stranger. Just skip it. Sleep in. Wait for lunch.

But, if you must attend this twilight of the day, do it right. Drink heavily. Take advantage of the ambiguity of brunch, which often leads people to order up to four beverages--OJ, coffee, water, bloody mary--at once. Just please, please, avoid the Mimosa. That it has become a staple of brunch is a tremendous shame--it lacks the stuff that great cocktails are made of. Rarely has a great cocktail ever come from simply pouring OJ in to a wine or spirit even if Alfred Hitchcock was purported to have invented it.

Here are some of my favorite drinks for brunch, although I have not stayed within the brunch box. To make it easier for you, I have arranged them by degree of hangover suffering.

Mild lethargy
Amarula & Coffee
Amarula is a fruit. So it seems breakfasty, but the liqueur is creamy like Bailey's. Elephants eat fermented amarulas by the pound, although I'm told they never get drunk off them. The real highlight here is why you could substitute Bailey's for Amarula ultimately--it's a speed ball. The key is to get alcohol, which is a depressant, and coffee, a stimulant, together. Nice.

Slight headache and mild nausea without any embarrassing or painful memories from the night before
The Velvet Swing
This cocktail is a little, how should I say, delicate sounding. And, if done right, it's accompanied by a rose petal. Not exactly a manly combo. But it's a really good drink. Champagne, Port, Cognac. What could go wrong? Order it in a hushed tone and ask them to hold the flowers (becoming a theme with me isn't it? See my post on the Mai Tai).

Slight headache and mild nausea with embarrassing or painful memories from the night before
Champagne Cocktail
Still not exactly a manly Bourbon neat, this classic is easier to say if you are still reeling from embarrassing memories from the night before. Plus it has bitters, good for the nausea.

More severe headache and nausea, possibly embarrassing or painful memories from the night before
Pink Gin
What I mistakenly referred to as the Pink Lady (that has grenadine and cream). Gin and bitters. In a word, breakfast. Especially if you're a sailor. Try it room temperature.

Still drunk, feeling hazy and have a general bodily numbness that is soon to be followed by sleep and/or a severe headache and nausea
Slippery Mary
You need vitamins and minerals, my friend. Your body is waiting to see how smart you are. If you fail the test, you'll be useless all day. Here's the crib notes: Vodka, tomato juice, spices, lime and a side of oysters on the half shell. Maybe some water too.

Still drunk, feeling hazy and have a general bodily numbness that begs for more alcohol in large quantities
Ugly Maria
The ubiquitous Bloody Mary is the worst part of brunch. And, no, you shouldn't order it for dinner. I can't stand most mixes, doused in horseradish with wilted celery hanging off the side. So, why not amp it up? Try the Ugly Maria--Tequila, beer (a lighter lager or pilsner), tomato juice (I like spicy V8) and hot sauce.

However, I often settle for a beer. It's the aspirin of the booze world. Johnny Cash said it best (actually Kris Kristofferson said it best and Johnny Cash sang it best):

Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.

So You Want to be a Martini Drinker?

Top Five Rookie Mistakes

The Martini drinker is an enduring image. Poised over the wide rim of a Martini glass, wearing a black tie, women at his side, stirring gently the olives, puffing on a cigar. Maybe even playing roulette. It's romantic. It's sophisticated. It's manly. It's inspired an entire industry.

There are martini bars, "Martini menus", Martini parties and Martini accessories. But Martinis are a kind of accessory. And knowing how to order them is essential if you want to avoid looking like a rookie. I've skipped the gin vs. vodka, shaken vs. stirred, dry vs. wet debate. Order it however you want, just don't look like a tool when ordering it.

Here's the top five rookie mistakes I've seen from behind the bar:

"So, uh, what kind of martinis do you have?" If you're ordering a Martini, it's a Martini, not one of many Martinis. Order it with style and distinction: "I'll have a Bombay Sapphire martini wet, up with a twist."

Martini is a drink served in multiple kinds of glassware depending on your preference. Simple, I know. But the assumption is that a Martini will always be served up and anything in a "Martini glass" is a Martini. I won't touch the latter statement but the former is wrong. You can get a Martini up (chilled and strained in a wide rim glass with a stem) or on the rocks (over ice in a short glass). Hell, you can even get it in a water glass and it's still a Martini.

"Can I get my Martini shaken not stirred?" Are you serious? Even if you truly like your Martinis shaken, you should avoid the whole, uh hem, cliche. Ask for your Martini shaken (stop). If you want to be a priss about it, denote the rhythm, pace and outcome: I'd like it shaken to a Bossa Nova beat, slowly, until it's below 40 degrees farenheit. At least it's original.

You are not the first person to roll your r's on "Dirrrty Martini" or the only person who knows the true story of the Martini. Avoid acting like a jackass and just order what you want without a production. It's fun to swap stories or discuss the particulars of a drink. But sounding like a Martini know-it-all or, worse, being the 50th guy to tell the bartender they like their Martini filthy, pornographic or triple X is trifling.

"I'll take a Belvedere Martini, no vermouth." I'm not a Martini purist per se (or at least I don't get violently angry when people call a cosmopolitan a "Martini") but this shit has got to stop. What you mean to ask for is a "Belvedere up." Save yourself and your bartender time by being a little more precise.

Rye

When I first tried rye, I was amazed that there weren't more companies producing it. For a short time after my first sip, I almost felt guilty for thinking it might be better than the mighty bourbon. And I've been hooked since.

Straight Rye Whiskey must be at least 51% distilled from rye whereas bourbon must be at least 51% corn. But there's a world of difference between the two. And I'm not just referring to feeling like you're a cynical cop in a Raymond Chandler novel when sipping rye. Rye has a distinct spicier, drier flavor than bourbon---with a faint leathery nose to it. It's an excellent choice for a cold winter's night when you're not feeling up for scotch on the rocks for the umpteenth time.

Since rye isn't widely available, there are only a few brands in a decent price range. Wild Turkey and Jim Beam make bottles at around $20 (750ML). The late, great Sid Drazin swore by Old Overholt rye, but I'm not crazy about it (even though apparently it's the best choice for the classic Sazerac cocktail). I would recommend staying the hell away from Pikesville Rye, which is bland to the point of being an insult to the spirit.

And don't pack the old fashioned glass with ice, my friend. You'll get the best flavor from a two finger pour and one to three cubes.

Blood Orange Martini

Clearly inspired by this week’s 70 degree weather, a word on Campari cocktails (because Campari goes best with a little sunshine). A first time Campari drinker is likely to pucker up and spit it right back out, unless they have a taste for the bitter or are Italian. So mixing it might be the better gateway to this Italian favorite. Here are a few Campari-based cocktails:

Blood Orange Martini
Long before Whole Foods carried blood orange juice or vodka and blood orange juice cocktails were the rage, people made Blood Orange Martini’s the old fashioned way… without blood orange juice. Gin and OJ with a splash of Campari, served up with a Campari stained orange slice (just pour a splash of Campari on the orange slice). Delicious.

Old Pal

Last week we discussed vermouth, with an eye towards expanding your use and appreciation of this fine product. Vermouth deserves a little more exposure and understanding, and what better way to help it along than to provide you with another drink that makes use of it, and thus helping you to find out how it might fit into your mixology repertoire a little more often.

Dry vermouth is relatively subtle in flavor, and as such can play a wonderful role in rounding out the edges or toning down the volume in products that might otherwise be a little too robust in flavor. I have often used dry vermouth to sort of play “referee” in drinks such as the Black Feather, or the Mahogany.

The Old Pal is a cocktail which also illustrates this ability of vermouth to mediate the flavors a little bit. It was several years ago when I first encountered this drink. We were perusing through some old cocktail manuals at the Zig Zag Café, and it caught the attention of one of the bartenders who thought it might make an interesting addition to the menu. Since then, it has been a drink I’ve seen it making an appearance on the menus of several other bars and cocktail lounges around the world.

In the Old Pal, Campari is stepping in to strut its stuff, and doing so on a stage built by American whiskey. Either bourbon or rye can be used in this drink, and both of them have relatively bold flavors, but they would be quickly overpowered by Campari, especially if using almost as much Campari as there is whiskey. Here is where dry vermouth steps in and provides control in both volume and balance to the drink. It almost turns the Campari into having a character more reminiscent to sweet vermouth, but the slightly wild character of the Campari still shines through. The end result is a drink that has some of the appeal of a Manhattan, but with enough of a difference to make it a unique and interesting drink.

Old Pal

• 1 ounce rye or bourbon whiskey
• 3/4 ounce dry vermouth
• 3/4 ounce Campari

Stir with ice. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Hopefully this illustrates yet another way in which dry vermouth is your friend, and can make a startling difference in a cocktail when it is properly applied.

Vermouth

To the average cocktail drinker, vermouth is almost always dry, its cocktail companion is almost always the Martini, and its use is as minimal as possible in order to (supposedly) make the Martini as dry as possible.

Vermouth is a fortified wine, it is almost always made from white wine, and comes in either a red or white variety (and a couple of mild variations thereof), and it gets its particular unique characteristics from the various herbs and spices which are added to it. Every producer has their own unique combination of ingredients and processes that they apply to their product. There are perhaps fifty different herbs and spices which can be utilized, gentian, mint, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, quessia, sandalwood, rhubarb stems, quinine, just to name a few. The word “vermouth” comes from the German word “Wermuth” for “wormwood”, which was one of the key herbs in the original formula created by Antonio Carpano in the late 1700’s.

The original vermouth was sweet and red, due to the botanicals used to flavor it. Later the French, specifically Joseph Noilly, chimed in with their version, which was white and dry in 1813. This led to “Italian Vermouth” and “French Vermouth” often being used to refer to these two distinctly different styles. Today however virtually all vermouth producers make both a red (sweet) and a white (dry) version, so those terms can be misleading. It is usually best to use “sweet” and “dry” to refer to these most common vermouth varieties, with options such as “bianco”, “amber” and others being specialty sub-versions offered by some brands.

Vermouth sits sort of at the crossroads of wine and spirit. Wines degrade quickly (relatively speaking) once they have been opened, spirits on the other hand laugh in the face of such a danger. Vermouth, basically a wine, has both the spices added to it, as well as a little bit of extra fortification from brandy or other spirits to help it age far less slowly then a normal wine. It is widely accepted however that once a bottle of vermouth has been opened, it is probably best to store it in the refrigerator if you are not expecting to use it within a day’s time. Myself, I’ve found that a bottle of premium vermouth, once opened and left in the cupboard for a month or more, essentially just turns into a “lesser” vermouth, instead of being totally unacceptable. So you don’t have to be “too” concerned, but none-the-less, I keep my vermouth in the fridge.

Vermouth, either sweet or dry, makes a wonderful drink all by itself. Just pour some into a rocks glass filled with ice, and add a lemon twist, and it is an extremely refreshing drink. In fact this is how vermouth is traditionally consumed in Europe. Here in America however there is a strange fear surrounding vermouth. I will often show a bartender a drink I’d like him to make which uses a measurable amount of vermouth in it, and many bartenders will verify that I really want to use that much vermouth in my drink. I remember one time when I was trying to get a bartender to make me a Martini using my traditional 3 parts gin to 1 part dry vermouth ratio, and he insisted that I instruct him on exactly when to stop adding the vermouth. He very carefully was adding the vermouth, almost a drop at a time, to the cocktail shaker, with visible pain on his face at each added drop. The kicker was that once he finished making the drink (properly) for me, I insisted that he have a sample. He stole off a quick strawfull, paused, turned away briefly, and then looked me straight in the eye and said: “I normally don’t like gin Martinis, preferring vodka instead, but that is a GREAT drink!” My work here is done.

So please don’t be afraid of vermouth. Give it a try this summer just by itself, on the rocks, with a twist, and for your next Martini, add a health dose of it to the glass either dry, or sweet, which is how the drink was originally intended.

Pisco and the Pisco Punch

Pisco is a product that had once been extremely difficult to find here in America, but recently we’ve been seeing a variety of different brands being exported from South America.

Technically, Pisco is a form of brandy in-so-much as it is made from grapes. Any spirit distilled from fruit is considered a brandy, with grape brandies the most common. Pisco is probably closest in character to grappa, which is also a brandy traditionally made in Italy from the leftovers of wine production.

The specific history of Pisco is a little murky, as well as in dispute. Depending on who you might be talking to, it originates in either Peru, or Chile. The oldest known reference to a distilled grape-based spirit from the region is in 1613, from the Spanish colonies in Peru.

It is believed that Pisco got it start when wines were being produced for export, and those wines which were not seen as good enough, were given over to the farmers, who would distill it to produce a firey spirit for their personal consumption, which is similar to the origins of grappa in Italy.

Even the origins of the name Pisco are up to speculation. There are some who say it is named after the town/port of Pisco, which takes its name from the Quechua language, where the word “pisqu” refers to the small birds that inhabit the region. The grape spirit would be shipped out of this port, and just as whiskies coming out of the port in Bourbon county Kentucky became known as Bourbon, the spirit coming out of Pisco took on the name of that port as well. Another story has it that before the town of Pisco was named, the people of this area were known as “piskos” (perhaps also being derived from the birds), and one of their many products was a form of storage vessel, which also became known as a “pisko”, and one of the most common things to store in these vessels, was the local fire-water, which eventually became known as “pisko” as well.

I’ve had a variety of Pisco’s from both Chile and Peru, and overall, I have found the Peruvian Pisco (with one notable exception) to be of significantly higher quality and character than the ones from Chile. So while I won’t definitively pronounce either country as being the true thrown of Pisco, I will say that Peru has shown itself in my mind to be the premium producer.

In Peru and Chile, one of the most popular cocktails made with Pisco is the Pisco Sour (which we’ve already covered). There is another famous Pisco drink, this one however hales from America, and specifically from San Francisco.

For ships to travel to San Francisco with supplies and passengers, it was necessary for them to take the long way around, by going down the coast of eastern South America, and then back up the west coast and on up to the busy San Francisco port. During this trip they would often pick up supplies and products to deliver to San Francisco. One of their ports of call was at Pisco, and one of the products they would pick up there was Pisco, stored in the earthenware containers of the area.

Pisco first started arriving in San Francisco in the 1830’s, and was relatively popular during the subsequent gold rush of 1849. “The Bank Exchange & Billiard Saloon” opened in 1853, where the Transamerica tower is located now, and Pisco was one of the products that they served there, and were well known for. A variety of drinks would be served, some of them taking the form of what would have been called a punch. In 1893, Duncan Nicol took ownership of the saloon, and reputedly created the recipe for a drink he referred to as the “Pisco Punch”. The recipe for this drink was a tightly held secret, and while various people would attempt to recreate this drink, they could usually only come close, but would never quite duplicate it. Even after the closing of the Bank Exchange in 1919 due to American Prohibition, the recipe was never revealed. Duncan Nicol died in 1926 at the age of 72, presumably taking the recipe with him.

A Mr. William Bronson one day encountered some correspondences which fortunately appear to indicate that this was not the case. There happens to have been a John Lannes, who was the manager of the Bank Exchange during its final years. And as such, he was privy to the recipe, and after many years finally passed it on. The details of this are published in “Secrets of Pisco Punch Revealed”, by William Bronson, and published by the California History Society. I won’t repeat the minutia of the issues involved, but here is the recipe as it was discovered:

1. Take a fresh pineapple. Cut it in squares about 1 by 1.5 inches. Put these squares of fresh pineapple in a bowl of gum syrup to soak overnight. That serves the double purpose of flavoring the gum syrup with the pineapple and soaking the pineapple, both of which are used afterwards in the Pisco Punch,

2. In the morning mix in a big bowl the following: l/2 PINT (8 OZ.) OF THE GUM SYRUP, PINEAPPLE FLAVORED AS ABOVE 1 PINT (16 OZ.) DISTILLED WATER 3h PINT (10 OZ.) LEMON JUICE 1 BOTTLE (24 OZ.) PERUVIAN PISCO BRANDY

Serve very cold but be careful not to keep the ice in too long because of dilution. Use 3 or 4 oz. punch glasses. Put one of the above squares of pineapple in each glass. Lemon juice or gum syrup may be added to taste.

Mr. Bronson dutifully went about re-creating this recipe, after taking great pains to acquire some proper Peruvian Pisco. He notes that the results were not as spectacular as he had expected. Eventually he tries again, only this time making his own gum syrup, as opposed to simply using a dusty old bottle he had encountered somewhere. The recipe he used was:

Crush one pound- of gum arabic (if not already in crystal form), and soak for 24 hours in a pint of distilled water. (Gum arabic can be purchased at some confectionery supply houses and health food stores.) Add the gum arabic solution to a syrup made of four pounds of sugar and one quart of water boiled to 220 degrees Farenheit. As the mixture continues to boil, skim off impurities and then let it cool to room temperature. Filter through cheese cloth and store in bottles.

When using this in his Pisco Punch, he remarks that the results as:

It was smooth and good. It was fragrant, seductive and delicate. My wife has asked me not to drink it again.

The difference between what I tasted when I first made it and what was served that day was not a difference in flavor, but in texture and bite. I am convinced that the mystery ingredient in Pisco Punch is nothing more than gum arabic, and that it works in some way to take all the rough edges off the Peruvian brandy and perhaps alter the rate of absorbtion or metabolism of the alcohol in it.

So if you’re feeling a little experimental, perhaps you may want to give this recipe a try yourself and see if you too can discover the benefits of this wonderful elixir.

Orgeat

Maybe it’s just me, but there are several words that are just so dang confusing when it comes to trying to figure out how to pronounce them properly. For years, I had seen “orgeat” in print, but never pronounced. To look at the word and apply crude American pronunciation to it arrives at something like “or-geet” or “or-jeet”, neither of which unfortunately is correct. Apparently the proper pronunciation is “or-zha”, soft “g”, silent “t”. Paradigm is another word that bothers me as well.

Orgeat is a ingredient that is found listed for a variety of cocktails, with a good representation amongst a variety of “Tiki” drinks. Orgeat started life out as something totally different from what it is today. Originally it was basically just barley water. Water, barley, and honey, boiled for several hours and then strained. It was intended as a health tonic of sorts, and was apparently popular with the Romans. The word “orgeat” comes from the Latin word “hordeata”, which means “made with barley”, which became the Vealencian “orxata”, the Italian “orzata”, and the Dutch “orgeade”. Culturally the recipe evolved to be made with various types of grains, including rice. Sometimes milk is added to it, along with some other spices.

Today, orgeat is considered to be (almost) always a sweet almond syrup, the barley and other grains having long since disappeared. For the most part it is made by boiling almonds and sugar in water to form a syrup, and then adding a little bit of orange flower water (and sometimes rose flower water). It can be hard to find, but most syrup companies that manufacture syrups used to flavor coffees make a version so you can often find it in the grocery aisles wherever syrups are sold.

If you can’t find orgeat, almond Syrup is an adequate substitute. You might wonder then what the difference exactly is between orgeat and almond syrup. Most notably is that orgeat it traditionally cloudy, while almond syrup is clear. Perhaps this technically comes from orgeat being made by boiling the almonds in the syrup, while almond syrup is made by adding almond extract or flavorings to syrup, thus inherently the orgeat is a more rustic/cloudy product. The other difference is that as indicated above, orgeat should also include some orange flower or rose flower water, while plain almond syrup does not. Personally, I find the flavors so similar as not to really make a difference, especially when used as a secondary ingredient in a cocktail.

Fog Cutter

My personal favorite cocktail which uses orgeat is the Japanese cocktail, which we’ve already covered in the past. My second favorite would be the Mai Tai, which we have also already covered. To present a different recipe which uses orgeat, let’s stay in the Tiki theme of the Mai Tai. When I was working on a cocktail recipe book for the Museum of the American Cocktail, I asked Jeff “Beachbum” Berry (noted Tiki Cocktail Historian) if there were a couple Tiki recipes that he felt showcased what Tiki cocktails were all about. First on his list was the Mai Tai, which I already had covered, and his second was the Fog Cutter. Like the Mai Tai, this drink comes to us from Victor “Trader Vic” Bergeron, and is perhaps his second most popular cocktail. Here is the recipe that Jeff provided me:

Fog Cutter

• 2 oz fresh lemon juice
• 1 oz orange juice
• 0.5 oz orgeat syrup
• 2 oz light Puerto Rican rum
• 1 oz brandy
• 0.5 oz gin
• 0.5 oz sweet sherry

Shake everything—except the sherry— with ice cubes. Pour into a tall tiki mug or chimney glass. Add more ice to fill. Float the sherry.

Lillet and the Vesper Cocktail

Lillet is an often overlooked ingredient, while technically it may not be considered a vermouth, like a vermouth it is a aromatized and fortified wine. There are a variety of fruits, herbs, and spices that make up the proprietary recipe for Lillet, one of those spices is quinine, the same ingredient found in tonic water, and this gives an ever-so-slight bitterness to the product.

Created in the late 1800’s, it originally had a lot more quinine, but in the mid 1980’s the recipe was modified to produce a more approachable balance of flavors. Lillet comes in both a white (Blanc) and red (Rouge) version. While vermouth manufacturers will use the same (white) wine, just different herbs and spiced to differentiate their white and red vermouths, Lillet uses the exact same spice mixture in both their white and red Lillet, just using a white Bordeaux wine for Lillet Blanc, and a red Bordeaux wine for Lillet Rouge. Originally, Lillet was referred to as “Kina Lillet”, where kina is the Peruvian word for “bark of the cinchona tree”, which is used to produce quinine. Kina was dropped from the name many years ago.

There aren’t many cocktails which call for Lillet, it is more commonly served on the rocks with a twist of lemon, and as such it is a wonderful aperitif. Perhaps one of the most popular Lillet based cocktails, is the “Vesper”, which made its first appearance in 1953 in the first James Bond Novel “Casino Royale”, by Ian Fleming. Here is an expert of where Mr. Bond orders this drink for the first time:

“A dry martini,” he said. “One. In a deep champagne goblet.”

“Oui, monsieur.”

“Just a moment. Three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it’s ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon peel. Got it?”

“Certainly, monsieur.” The barman seemed pleased with the idea.

“Gosh, that’s certainly a drink,” said Leiter.

Bond laughed. “When I’m…er…concentrating,” he explained, “I never have more than one drink before dinner. But I do like that one to be large and very strong and very cold and very well-made. I hate small portions of anything, particularly when they taste bad. This drink’s my own invention. I’m going to patent it when I can think of a good name.”

While Mr. Bond doesn’t indicate if this should be made with white or red Lillet, you can rest assured that it was made with white, since red didn’t exist at that time. However the white Lillet that was available, was the version with a higher quinine level then is available today, so you unfortunately can no longer get this drink made exactly the way James would have had it.

It is said, that Ian Flemming designed this drink himself, with the help of bartenders at Dukes hotel in London. He apparently was fairly proud of it, but unfortunately it never shows up again. In the movies Bond tends toward straight vodka more often than not. Fortunately, Casino Royale was finally made into a full-fledge Bond movie, and in it this drink is once again introduced to the public. The new movie is intended to take place in the modern day, but James still orders his drink using “Kina Lillet”, this either shows that the scriptwriters didn’t really do any research on the product at all, or were intent on preserving the dialog from the book while sacrificing accuracy.

Here then is the Vesper Cocktail, note that this recipe makes a big cocktail, Mr. Bond did after all ask for it in a deep champagne goblet. You might want to cut the recipe in half to make a more elegantly sized drink. It’s the ratios which are most important to preserve, not the overall size.

Vesper

• 3 ounces gin
• 1 ounce vodka
• 1/2 ounce Lillet (blanc)

Stir with ice. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Bermuda Rum Swizzle

I believe my first encounter with Falernum, was after a friend just got back from Bermuda, and asked me for the recipe for the “Bermuda Rum Swizzle” that they loved to drink while they were down there. I had never heard of this drink, and so did a little research to see what I could find. Eventually I located a recipe, and saw that it included “Falernum”. A little further research ensued, and I soon discovered that at one time it had been produced by the Sazerac Company of New Orleans (the same folks who make Peychaud’s Bitters as well as Sazerac rye whiskey), but they unfortunately no longer were.

It appeared as though there were a couple different brands of Falernum being produced in Bermuda, but nobody was exporting it to America, I can only imagine that it was some sort of secret conspiracy to keep visitors coming back since this was the only place they could then taste this mythical Bermuda Rum Swizzle.

I dug a little deeper, and soon discovered that a restaurant group right in my home city of Seattle (Restaurants Unlimited), had been using Sazerac’s Falernum in many of their restaurants to make Mai Tais, and had approached DaVinci Gourmet, a local company that makes many different flavored syrups for coffee, to see if they would be interested in producing it. I’ll ignore for a moment that a properly made Mai Tai shouldn’t include Falernum, and instead congratulate Restaurants Unlimited for creating a new source of Falernum.

Soon after this, another Falernum came onto the market, “Velvet Falernum”, which unlike the version from DaVinci Gourmet, included a slight amount of alcohol in it, much like the version that Sazerac used to provide. And even more recently, Fee Brothers began marketing their own version of (non-alcoholic) Falernum.

Since I’ve never had a chance to try the “original” Falernum, or the Falernums that are available down in Bermuda, I haven’t had a chance to compare these three different brands to see which might be closest to what Sazerac may have been previously selling. While each of these brands have a slightly different flavor characteristic, the overall flavor is of a sweet syrup flavored with lime, ginger, cloves and cinnamon.

And here then is the recipe for the Bermuda Rum Swizzle, which was provided to me by Gosling Brothers, makers of Goslings Black Seal rum:

Bermuda Rum Swizzle

• 2 ounces dark rum
• 1 ounce lime juice
• 1 ounce pineapple Juice
• 1 ounce orange juice
• 1/4 ounce falernum

Shake with ice. Strain into a highball glass filled with ice. Garnish with a slice of orange and a cherry.

And if you can find any of these brands of Falernum in your area, you could try making some of your own. My good friend Paul Clarke has been experimenting, and pasted his recipe for Falernum #8 on his blog “Cocktail Chronicals”.

Cachaca

One of the first issues that many people encounter when they encounter cachaça for the first time, is that squirrelly little “ç”. That little squiggle under the “c” is known as a “cedilla”, and is usually referred to simply as “c-cedilla”. The cedilla mark itself, is used in conjunction with various other letters (d, g, k, l, n, r, s, t, z), and indicates a modification to how it is pronounced. In the case of c-cedilla, it is pronounced with a soft “s” sound, making cachaça pronounced as “ka-CHA-sa”. The HTML Geek in me feels it necessary to include that for HTML programmers, the main thing they need to know is that to properly add this to a page, they need to use the entity code “Ç” or “Ç” or “Ç” for the capital “C” version, or “ç” or “ç” or ”ç” for the lowercase “c” version.

But you of course aren’t here for a linguistic (or html coding) lesson, you’d much prefer getting to the heart of the matter and find out more about what the heck cachaça is all about.

Cachaça is made by first fermenting sugar cane juice, and then distilling it. After distillation a little additional sugar can be added in order to enhance the flavor. Since sugar is the base product of cachaça, it can be argued that it is in the same family as rum. Traditional rum is made from fermented and distilled molasses, which is the by-product of making sugar, and rhum agricole is made from sugar cane juice, so the similarities are pretty close. If you aren’t able to find cachaça in your area, then you can substitute white rum instead.

It used to be that cachaça was extremely hard to find here in the states. I remember being excited on my first trip to Denver because I had heard that there was a Brazilian bar there that actually had cachaça and could make real Caipirinhas, which up until that time I had only had made with either vodka or rum. Today however it appears that cachaça is far more common, with several different brands available.

Most, if not all, cachaça comes from Brazil, where for all intents and purposes it is the national spirit. Brazil exports only a small amount of its cachaça, and only lately have the artisanal producers (such as Santiago) started taking advantage of a national market. It is also interesting to note that Brazil is also one of the world’s leaders in producing ethanol as a fuel alternative for cars. Their ethanol production is also based on sugar cane, with a process fairly similar, although more industrial, as to that of making cachaça. Hard to say if this is diverting sugar cane that might otherwise have been used to make cachaça, thus decreasing the overall amount, or if it means there is more production of sugar cane and thus both increasing the amount of cachaça that can be made, as well as decreasing the cost of sugar cane for its use. One thing for sure, you don’t want to try drinking the fuel, it’s non-potable.

For those of you looking for a reason for celebration, you can mark June 12th on your calendars. This is the unofficial “National Cachaça Day” in Brazil. It goes back to June 12, 1744 when Portugal, then colonizer of Brazil, declared the production and distribution of cachaça illegal throughout Brazil. Clearly the locals would have none of that, and so today it is a source of celebration of this particularly Brazilian spirit. On this day every year, I head over to a great little Brazilian restaurant “Tempero do Brasil” here in Seattle to raise a glass of cachaça in honor of the day. They serve several cachaça based drinks on their menu, one of them is the “Tempero, Cravo e Canela” as a wonderful after dinner “digestivo”.

Tempero, Cravo e Canela

• 1 cup water
• 1 cup granulated sugar

Simmer together until the sugar is completely dissolved, then add:

• 6 cinnamon sticks
• 2 teaspoons whole cloves

Simmer for 15 minutes to half an hour to extract the flavors. Remove from heat and allow to cool.

To serve pour into a small glass:

• 1 ounce syrup
• 1 1/2 ounce cachaça

Serve neat.

This is a recipe that was worked up by the chef at Tempero do Brasil, and is intended to be similar to a type of drink that is often available on the streets of Brazil. Sometimes the drink is simply cinnamon and clove infused cachaça, sometimes it has some sugar added to it for sweetness. The chef said that he lightly caramelizes the sugar before adding the water to it, this adds a little extra depth of flavor, as well as some additional coloring, I left that step out just to make the recipe easier to create at home. The chef also said that the amounts of the spices are something he just sort of adds “to taste” as opposed in very specific quantities. I’ve tried to indicate here what I feel is the right amount for the cinnamon and cloves, but feel free to modify these amounts as you feel is appropriate.

Pernod and the Chrysanthemum Cocktail

Pernod is one of those products that everybody is probably familiar with, but few people actually use very much. The first thing most people notice when they sample it, is simply that it tastes like licorice. When sipped straight, the overall flavor is fairly intense, and the licorice like flavor of the star anise that Pernod uses is just about all that can be distinguished.

Pernod can be classified as a “Pastis”, although true pastis traditionally does include licorice root, while Pernod doesn’t.

Pastis liqueurs are quite popular in France, and other parts of Europe, where it is often served neat in a small tumbler, along with a small pitcher of ice water. The customer then slowly pours their desired amount of ice water into the glass. This will cause the greenish, or sometimes clear, pastis to cloud up, or “louche”. Some of you might see the similarity between this process, and the manner in which Absinthe was once popularly served, slowly dripping ice water into their Absinthe, often also putting a small slotted spoon over the glass, onto which a sugar cube was positioned, so that the ice water could gradually dissolve the sugar into the drink.

Pernod was in fact the first name in Absinthe back when Absinthe was “the” drink to have all across Europe.

Problems arose for the Pernod company when France banned Absinthe due to the raging propaganda of the day which appeared to indicate that Absinthe was a dangerous hallucinogen, which could drive people so crazy that they would commit murder and other crimes.

Today, it is fairly well documented that this is not the case, but the damage was done, and Pernod had to cease production of “Pernod Fils” the product which was the foundation of the company. Eventually, they devised a recipe for a product which would still have the basic flavor of Absinthe, but without the use of “wormwood”, which was the ingredient which was believed to produce the undesired “effects” associated with Absinthe. During this re-formulation, Pernod also sweetened up the product, so that it could be served with just ice water, and thus not needing to first dissolve the sugar with the ice water during service.

Here in America, we never really caught onto the whole “Absinthe” thing. Sure, we used Absinthe, but usually not simply by itself, but instead to just use a dash or two as a flavoring for our cocktails. Today this is still the case, and while in France you will often see people served their Pernod in a glass all by itself, in America you will usually only see it used a dash at a time in drinks, or perhaps a slight teaspoon used to cook mussels, shrimp, salmon, or other seafood which provides a great pairing for the anis/fennel/licorice flavor.

If you don’t already have a bottle of Pernod gathering dust in your cupboards, I’d recommend picking up a bottle of it one of these days and try simply serving an ounce of it in a small tumbler, filled with ice, and topped with about two ounces of ice water. It makes a delightfully refreshing drink to have while sitting on a sunny porch on a warm summer day.

Since you don’t always have a warm summer day to accompany your Pernod, you might want to also familiarize yourself with some cocktails which use a little Pernod as an ingredient. We’ve covered some of these in the past, such as the Corpse Reviver, De la Louisiane, and Sazerac. To that list, I would like to add the Chrysanthemum Cocktail:

Chrysanthemum Cocktail

• 1 1/2 ounce dry vermouth
• 3/4 ounce Benedictine
• 3 dashes Pernod

Stir with ice. Strain into a cocktail glass.
Garnish with a twist of orange

Maraschino Liqueur and the Opera Cocktail

I first encountered maraschino liqueur while perusing through Paul Harrington’s cocktail website that was being published by HotWired back when the web was young. He presented a couple different cocktails which used this product, but warned that it was nearly impossible to find. Today, Paul’s site is gone, but fortunately maraschino liqueur has seen a modern resurgence. It’s not so much “if” you can find maraschino liqueur, but “which” maraschino liqueur you can find. The three brands I often come across as Luxardo, Maraska, and Stock. And while I haven’t seen it for sale in the states yet, Bols also makes a maraschino liqueur.

Maraschino liqueur, is of course closely associated with maraschino cherries. Time once was, when real maraschino cherries were Marasca cherries which had been soaking in maraschino liqueur. It is important of course not to confuse real maraschino cherries with the modern day equivalent. Today’s sad little nearly-faux cherries are simply soaking in an artificially colored and artificially flavored sugar syrup, which is nowhere near the same thing as maraschino liqueur. Maraschino liqueur is made from the fruit, seeds, and even stems of the Marasca cherry, it is distilled clear, and sweetened, and presents a very unique flavor that is both fruity and slightly nutty as the same time.

While maraschino liqueur used to be a somewhat common ingredient in cocktails prior to prohibition, those years the formed our cocktail lobotomy pushed this ingredient out of our minds and it really never quite was able to get a strong foothold again, until just recently. Things probably started when folks wanted to make the Aviation cocktail which is what I had first read about on Paul Harrington’s site, but once this elusive ingredient had been acquired, it was of course important to try to find more drinks which would make use of it as well.

One drink which I’ve really enjoyed, is the “Opera” cocktail:

Opera

• 2 ounces gin
• 1/2 ounce Dubonnet
• 1/4 ounce maraschino liqueur
• 1 dash orange bitters

Stir with ice. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a Lemon Twist.

Clover Club

Consider the Egg. A product that holds a variety of fascinating uses, including as being an ingredient in many excellent cocktails. The Pisco Sour, and Ramos Gin Fizz are perhaps the most well known, but the time was when one of the most popular cocktails of the day was one that included the use of an egg, and yet today few have ever heard of it.

The Clover Club Cocktail was created prior to prohibition, and its name comes from the Philadelphia men’s club by that name and was created at the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel. Hard to say exactly why these particular ingredients were chosen for this drink, but I expect you will find their combination to be a tad surprising. When faced with gin drinks, most people assume that this juniper heavy spirit will assail their taste-buds, with the Clover Club Cocktail however, this is not the case. You could easily serve this to a gin-averse friend, and they would never be the wiser.

Even the lemon juice and raspberry syrup (or grenadine) play very soft and subtle roles in this drink, with the egg white providing a creamy texture and a attractive carpet of foam settling on along the surface.

Yeah, I know, many people shy away from raw eggs. Perhaps originally just from being squeamish, and later due to concerns regarding salmonella. I can’t provide an argument against those who are just plain squeamish, but as for the salmonella issue there are several points that can be raised in the defense of the raw egg. First and foremost is that the egg industry overall has come a long way since the initial scares of several decades ago.

The estimated danger of encountering salmonella in a fresh egg is extremely low, to the point of being almost non-existent.

You then have the fact that this drink contains both alcohol and citric acid, which are mortal enemies of salmonella. And if that isn’t enough, there is also the availability of pasteurized egg whites which work just as well in this drink, as they do in any other drink which might make use of raw egg whites.

Clover Club Cocktail

• 1 1/2 oz gin
• 3/4 oz lemon juice (or lime juice)
• 1/4 oz raspberry syrup (or grenadine)
• white of 1 egg, or 1 tablespoon pasteurized egg white

Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker and shake hard for about a minute to form a good froth. Strain into a cocktail glass.

As listed above, this drink will be very smooth and gentle in flavor. Some may want to increase both the lemon juice and the syrup to bring in more in line with the heartier flavors that many expect in their drinks these days, but I recommend giving the recipe a try as-is first.

Cynar and the Trident Cocktail

I seem to be drawn toward obscure ingredients, especially once which have unique or interesting flavors. I can’t recall the first time I encountered Cynar, but it was definitely an ingredient that fit well into my repertoire. From a flavor standpoint, the way I describe Cynar, as that it is a kinder and gentler version of Campari. While I have no idea how many ingredients they might have in common, I find that the flavor profile between the two is fairly similar, and somebody who likes one, will usually like the other. Fortunately, it is (since 1995) part of the Campari portfolio of products, so I doubt that the parent company would be upset with that comparison.

The Cynar label proudly displays an artichoke, the reason for this is that it is an artichoke based bitter, however the flavor is well balanced, and artichoke does not come out distinctly prominent, but instead blends in with the other herbs and plants (13 in total), which make up its recipe.

I have been able to uncover very little about the history of Cynar, but would love to discover more about how it might have originated, as well as how its popularity and use has evolved over the years.

You also won’t find many cocktails which use Cynar as an ingredient. I recommend trying it as a substitute in any drink which might otherwise call for Campari, which itself isn’t terribly commonly used as a cocktail ingredient. I personally take pride in a cocktail of my own creation which not only uses Cynar, but also sort of emphasizes my tendency toward slightly obscure cocktail ingredients.

Trident

• 1 ounce Cynar
• 1 ounce aquavit
• 1 ounce dry sherry
• 2 dashes peach bitters

Stir with ice. Strain into a cocktail glass.
Garnish with a lemon twist.

I originally designed this cocktail as a way to utilize Fee’s Peach Bitters. The idea for this particular combination came from my practice of using aquavit instead of gin in my Negornis. Substituting Cynar for the Campari, and dry sherry for the sweet vermouth became a way to move this drink into a slight different direction, and I found that peach bitters worked quite well in this slightly softer variation of the Negroni.

The Trident has since become a standard cocktail at the Zig Zag Café here in Seattle. They were telling me once that when the manager of the local liquor store retired, she stopped in at the Zig Zag to find out what the heck they were doing that allowed them to sell more Cynar then all of the other cocktail bars in Washington State combined.