Entries Tagged as ''

Not Half Bad

I’ve been harsh to William Hamilton. The New York Times columnist who’s handled the “Shaken and Stirred” column since William Grimes gave it up a few years back, Hamilton is tasked with visiting some of the city’s newest and/or most happening bars, and reporting back on what’s being mixed. Too often, unfortunately, the drinks he covers are immediately forgettable, composed of flavored vodkas and juices-of-the-moment, drinks that may enjoy a brief flare of popularity at a particular bar before disappearing without a trace once everyone comes to their senses (or, more realistically, moves on to the next silly thing). And without harping on it too much, the man once even wrote about vodka and Red Bull. I’ll leave it at that.

But I have to give credit–Hamilton bears a good deal of the responsibility for spurring my interest in cocktails. A piece he wrote on the gimlet a couple of years ago convinced me I could mix a decent drink (and read interesting writing about cocktails), and I haven’t looked back since. And he’s also introduced me to drinks that have become personal favorites, such as the Gansevoort Fizz. Recently, a collection of his columns was published in a book, also titled Shaken and Stirred, and even though I’m sometimes disappointed, every other Sunday I turn to the Sunday Styles section first (after a quick review of A1), to see what he’s covering.

Today, I wasn’t disappointed. Hamilton starts his column, “WHY are there no new classic cocktails? I mean, the martini was a long time ago. With all this invention, why am I still drinking gimlets?” and then goes on to detail the drinks at Little Branch, a West Village watering hole that’s part of Sasha Petraske’s growing collection of establishments particularly well-suited for classic cocktail enthusiasts. Hamilton cites an option on the bar menu for “Bartender’s Choice – Leave It to the Professionals,” where you specify a set of parameters–gin drink, straight up, no juice, for example–and leave the rest to the bartender’s expertise. Hamilton mentions three drinks (one, sadly without a recipe–but containing gin, Grand Marnier, orange flower water, mint leaves and club soda–deserves a little exploration), and gives the proportions for this one:

Paez

  • 2.5 ounces gin (Little Branch uses Plymouth)
  • .5 ounce dry vermouth
  • 6 dashes Peychaud’s bitters
  • pinch sea salt

Stir with ice, strain into chilled cocktail glass, garnish with lemon twist.

Basically a martini that took an interesting life turn, this drink sounded promising–though the idea of tossing sea salt into my mixing glass threw me off at first, and I nearly left it out. That would’ve been a mistake. The Peychaud’s (six dashes, at that) really jazzed up the stodgy old martini, and the taste of the sea salt was almost imperceptible–almost. It was only in the finish, as the various florals of the gin and vermouth and the deep, rich sweetness of the Peychaud’s retreated from my palate, that the little hint of earthy saltiness crept forward (mind you, I used a small pinch). It’s an unexpected taste in a drink, but it’s done with such subtlety and in the presence of such full-character flavors that it works quite well.

So, my hat is off to Mr. Hamilton–should you ever take a wrong turn on Google and wind up here, I apologize for that disparaging remark I made about your column a month or so back. And should you make a really wrong turn, and wind up sitting next to me at a bar somewhere in Seattle, I promise I’ll buy you a Paez (or, a gimlet if you prefer). I’ll just let you be the one to explain it to the bartender.

Technorati tag:

That’s the Whiskey Talking: A Conversation with Fred Noe

Fred Noe’s first words to me are a rebuke, of sorts. “It’s Fred—’Mister’ is too stuffy,” he says as he saunters over and shakes my hand. Despite my initial misstep in calling him “Mr. Noe,” Frederick Booker Noe III is the very picture of good-natured amiability. With an accent that is pure Kentucky, a friendly bearing that comes from having one of the world’s most enviable jobs, and a girth that proves his love for good living, Noe is perhaps the perfect envoy for the world of bourbon.

A seventh-generation descendant of Jacob Beam, great-grandson of Jim Beam and son of legendary distiller Booker Noe, Fred Noe is the designated ambassador for Jim Beam Brands, a mighty beverage conglomerate that boasts, among its many products, four of the most respected bourbons on the market: Knob Creek, Basil Hayden’s, Baker’s, and his father’s namesake Booker’s, considered by many (including me) to be the world’s finest bourbon. To promote these whiskeys Noe regularly travels the country, giving tastings and speaking to groups of bourbon-lovers about Jim Beam’s small-batch bourbon collection. Last week Noe came to Seattle, and as part of my day-job in the fourth estate I was invited to come and enjoy the tasting, and to spend a few moments with Noe prior to the evening’s events. I’ve done dozens of interviews over the years, and Noe’s was one of the most enjoyable. As he talked with a rolling, rapid-fire drawl and a—of course—gravelly whiskey rumble to his voice, he kept turning in his chair to wave and point at friends and acquaintances as they entered the room. Here’s how it went:

What brings the Small Batch Bourbon tour to Seattle?

My dad started doing tasting events like this in 1989, after he released Booker’s bourbon in 1988, and it’s all about education. The people who got invited are members of the Knob Creek Network, about 70,000 members nationwide, and they can bring a friend, and we just want to educate people on bourbon. We’ll do about 20 of these a year, in various markets from coast to coast. It’s been a few years since we’ve done one in Seattle.

What kinds of trends have you seen in the industry over the last 10 years or so?

High-end bourbons have really re-ignited the whole bourbon category. These small-batch bourbons, single-barrel bourbons—Dad got the whole ultra-premium category started when he brought Bookers to market in 1988. That started this whole super-premium category for all of us in the bourbon business. And so, it’s growing—I think people are drinking less, but they want to drink better. These high-end bourbons are extra aged, have a little higher proof, and that all gives it more flavor. And I think bourbon is becoming more of a product that’s sipped and savored now, as opposed to shots, like in cowboy days. Cocktails, we’re seeing them come back—it’s a natural thing for bourbon to come into. It’s not just vodka anymore. Bourbon, I think you can make a better cocktail with bourbon because you’ve got more flavor with what you’re starting with.

Vodka currently dominates the cocktail market; how does bourbon measure up when it comes to mixing?

With bourbon, you’re starting off with a flavor that you can mingle with other flavors to come up with something unique. The thing with vodka, you mix it with whatever and it tastes like whatever. So, vodka’s not bringing any flavor to the drink—it’s just bringing alcohol.

What do you think is driving this trend to drink better?

Social pressures—drinking and driving, stuff like that. People aren’t going out and getting as loaded as they used to. Now, you think about it more, you’re more conscientious when you go out. Instead of having four or five drinks, you might just have one or two. And another thing, I think people are more open to trying things, they’re more open-minded now, and they might not be loyal to one particular spirit all the time. They might like to go out and drink bourbon, the next time do rum, or vodka, or wine. I think people bounce around and do different cocktails depending on their mood, or the time of year.

Years ago, your parents used to drink one thing, and that was all they drank. It got back as far as my grandfather on my mom’s side of the family, he drank one type of bourbon and that was it—Old Tub was the name of it, it was a product we used to do—if you didn’t have Old Tub, he didn’t drink anything. Nowadays, people aren’t that loyal to one particular brand, they bounce around and try different things. […] I don’t drink bourbon all the time—occasionally I’ll drink a little gin, maybe, in the summertime, a gin buck, taste a little scotch every now and then if I’m with the scotch guys, and I like to bounce around to see what’s going on, but my drink of choice is bourbon, because that’s what I produce. But I do try other things.

How do the premium brands you make differ from mainstream Jim Beam products?

It’s the same distillery, same grains, same barrels. It’s just the way you make them. For example, Basil Haydens, when we make the mash bill, it’s got twice as much rye—we cut back on the corn, double the rye. Booker’s, for example, comes off the still, second distillation, at 125 proof—everything else comes off second distillation at 135, and cut with water down to 125, because by law it can’t go in the barrel higher than 125 proof. Booker’s, there’s no water added at all. Baker’s has a little different recipe that Baker Beam [Noe's uncle] developed.

And then you start looking at the proofs, what they’re cut down to, length of time in the barrel—there’s really not that many variables when you start making bourbon. You’ve got your mash bill that you can change, the proof it comes off the still, then when it gets to the barrel, the length of time you leave it in the barrel, then afterwards do you cut it, do you filter it, if you are going to cut you don’t have to filter, or if you do cut and filter, then how much do you cut? Each one of those little pieces of the pie changes the product, so each one of these has its own set process from the time it’s made—like, we know it’s Knob Creek when it comes off the still, because of the mash bill percentages. When it gets to the warehouse, they stay in their spots—Booker’s is stored in a horizontal cross section—so it’s little things that we do, and that’s what makes it what they are. It’s not just the same whiskey in different bottles, like some of our competitors say.

What kind of things are on the horizon for Jim Beam?

Right now, we’ve got a Jim Beam Black, and that’s one we’re really going to be working hard on, I’ve worked quite a bit this year promoting, and the next year or so we’ll be working to bring it up out of infancy and let it take over. It’s a great bourbon—eight years old, 86 proof—I think, dollar for dollar, it’s probably the best value on the bourbon shelf. Eight years in that barrel, it’s got a lot of flavor, 86 proof—it’s all about getting that flavor.

Small batch bourbons, we’ve got them rolling, we’re doing tastings to introduce people to them. I think it’s important to get out here in the market and let people actually meet me, ask questions, talk about it—because like, these people here [he gestures to a group he’d been talking to earlier], they came to a tasting a few years ago, they found out we were going to be here, the guy went out and bought six or seven bottles, and I signed them for him and his friends. I think that’s important to do stuff like that: this guy’s that loyal a fan, to go out and purchase those bottles and give his time to come to this event, then I’ll be glad to sit there and write stuff on the bottles for him. When it’s over, I’ll sit up here and talk to every person until everyone leaves. I’ll be here until everyone that comes gets what they want, whether it’s just to come up and say hello, shake my hand, whatever—it’s important to do that, because if people give their time to come here tonight, I’ll give my time to talk and enjoy it. We’ll have fun—that’s what it’s all about.

What kinds of work have you been doing with bartenders to promote your brand?

We’ll get out—we did a food and wine thing last year in Aspen, Colorado, and they brought in some bartenders, Tony Abou-Ganim from the Bellagio—I’ve worked quite a bit with Tony, we’re friends, he’s come to our house to select barrels for the Bellagio casino. Now he’s no longer with the Bellagio, but we’re still good friends and whenever he’s got something going on with bourbon, if I’m free I’ll try to join him. He talks about mixing it, I talk about making it, and it’s a great combination because those guys are coming up with drinks that are out of this world.

It’s amazing—he taught me a lot, he and his boys from the Bellagio, on taking good quality ingredients and making cocktails. They’re the ones who said, “Hey, if you’re going to make a cocktail, why not use the highest grade bourbon there is? Don’t go out and get the highest quality ingredients, then use a bottom-shelf bourbon to make your drink.” Which a lot of people think, the high-end bourbons, you shouldn’t use them in cocktails. Well, why not? I heard a lady ask my dad one time if it was a sin to mix Booker’s and Coke, and he said, “If you take the very best bourbon in the world and mix it with Coke, you’ll have the best bourbon and Coke you could possibly have.” Somebody will go the extra distance and put out the money to buy a bottle of Booker’s, and they want to mix it with Coke, that’s fine. That’s their choice—it’s a free country. Nobody says you’ve got to just use Jim Beam in a whiskey sour; if you want to give a little extra, you can make them out of Booker’s.

Is there any possibility you’d introduce a premium rye whiskey into the market?

I never have really thought about it that much. We’ve got Jim Beam rye and Old Overholt, and if we saw more support for those, we possibly could. But those aren’t blowing out the—you see pockets of support for rye depending on what part of the country you’re in, but you just don’t see it across the board enough to develop, to do something.

That’s not to say we never would. At this point, there’s nothing really planned. You’re the second person to ask me tonight—that guy out there was asking me the same question, he said he was a bigger fan of the rye, and brought a bottle of Jim Beam rye for me to sign. He said, “I love the rye more, you ever thought of extra-aging some rye?” (laughs) Never say never, because you never know what you might do.

***

At this point we’d run out of time, and Noe had to go up and speak to the several hundred people who had come to the tasting. I’ll go through my notes on that and post any good details, but one point on the last question I asked: I’m a big fan of rye whiskey, and I desperately hope someone like Jim Beam introduces another premium rye into the marketplace. Fortunately, I’m not alone—at the end of the evening, during the question-and-answer segment, another person stood up and asked about a premium rye. Noe just shook his head and laughed, repeated what he’d said to me, but then remarked that maybe they’d have to put up a few barrels just for us rye freaks in Seattle.

The line starts behind me.

Technorati tag: , ,

No Corn. No Oil.

More fun with falernum.

To give the sweetener a test-run in as near-pure a situation as possible, one of my first drinks is the Corn ‘n Oil–recipe kindly provided by Slakethirst.

Corn ‘n Oil

  • 1 ounce rum
  • 1 ounce falernum
  • 1 dash angostura bitters

Stir with ice & strain into old-fashioned glass filled with crushed ice.

Slakethirst compared the flavor of this drink to a Cuba Libre; I confess I was at first skeptical of this description. But after mixing one with Mount Gay Extra (I remember reading somewhere that falernum is a Barbados thing) and Fee Bros. Aromatic Bitters, I took a sip and immediately saw how apt the comparison is. The cloves in the falernum paired with the spiciness of the bitters creates a very cola-like flavor, without the syrupy intrusion of high-fructose corn syrup. Though, as mentioned previously, this batch of falernum is really on the sweet side, so the next time around I’ll up the rum to 1.5 ounces and scale back the falernum a bit, but hopefully I won’t lose that lively interplay of flavors. Stay tuned.

Technorati tag:

Rum Swizzle

The first drink I made with my new batch of falernum. I was looking for something that would make me hear steel drum music every time I took a sip. Didn’t quite get there, but it’s a nice drink nonetheless.

Rum Swizzle
Build in a highball glass:

  • 2 ounces white rum
  • juice 1/2 lime
  • 1/2 ounce falernum
  • dash Angostura bitters

Add ice; stir until glass frosts.

Technorati tag:

Falernum Follies

Right off the bat, a disclaimer: I have never been to the Caribbean. The closest I’ve come is a quick overnight in Key West, so quick in fact that I didn’t even have a chance to hit a single bar. With this in mind, perhaps it’s forgivable that I’ve never tasted falernum. But, inspired by recent postings over at Slakethirst, and motivated by a desire to make new tasty things I can mix with booze and drink, I recently embarked on a falernum-making project, with no clear idea what my finished product should taste like.

First, the details: Falernum is a lightly alcoholic sweetener typically used in rum-based tropical drinks. Little is known of its origins, but commercial versions–made in Barbados and the U.S. (the latter sold as Velvet Falernum; both are sadly unavailable in Seattle)–are described as having the taste of lime, cloves, ginger, vanilla, and/or allspice. Non-alcoholic versions are available, including a bottling by Da Vinci Gourmet, made less than two miles from my home (but I’ll be damned if I can find a bottle anywhere, and principle keeps me from paying a $5 shipping fee for a $7.50 bottle of something produced within walking distance of my house).

Fortunately, recipes exist. For my batch of falernum, I turned to the guide posted by Rachel Perlow on eGullet (though I did cut this recipe in half, so as not to have my kitchen overwhelmed by a sweetener I’ve never tasted).
First, I used my trusty microplane to zest 1 1/2 limes, which I then placed in a 1/2 cup of light rum (I used Bacardi, for basic unimposing flavor / thriftiness sake) along with three cloves and a few drops of almond extract. I let the mixture steep for about 24 hours, then strained it through cheesecloth and mixed it with simple syrup–2 cups each of water and sugar (I used ordinary white cane sugar, so the flavor of demerara or turbinado wouldn’t take over the taste of the finished product.)

Results? Sweet! No, really, it’s pretty damn sweet, much moreso than I’d anticipated. Though, most drink recipes I see that call for falernum only use it in drips and drabs, much like other syrups and liqueurs, so it’ll take a few test drives to really assess the quality.

Initial runs seem promising. A first trial in a Rum Swizzle–essentially just a daiquiri with falernum used instead of sugar–produced a drink with the charming base character of the daiquiri, but with a little more depth and mystery to it, like a daiquiri’s charming cousin just in town from Havana. Additional trials in various rum punches–the kind where I start with the idea of a Planter’s Punch, then knock in some falernum or orgeat just to make things interesting–also produce pleasing results.

If I were to make this again–which will be a while, considering I have about 750ml of the stuff to work my way through–I’d probably do a couple of things different. First, I’d introduce a bit of ginger to the mix, to give it a little more zing, and maybe a couple more cloves, for general spiciness sake. Second, the sugar’s gotta be toned way down–I enjoy falernum as a sweetener, but in drinks where it’s more prominent (like the Corn ‘n Oil), the sweetness verges into toothache territory.

Technorati tag:


  • Alcoholic Blog Directory