Sometimes a little variation on a theme is all that’s needed to breathe new life into an old drink.

Take the whiskey sour. A lovely thing on its own, of course, and a dependable ally in an unfamiliar bar (as long as that bar has figured out how to squeeze a lemon, that is). But the whiskey sour is like the friend you call when you need someone to help you move, not the friend you think of when you’ve got a night off and the bright lights beckon.

But with a little makeover, the whiskey sour becomes a party animal. As proof, I present the St. Nick Sour, a drink I cadged from the current issue of Imbibe magazine (go get your copy to see the fancy picture — you have subscribed, right?). Simply our old buddy the whiskey sour, with a little orange juice to brighten the day and sweetened with orgeat, the delicate almond syrup. A variation in the vein of a Ward 8, the St. Nick Sour nonetheless takes the old WS in a pleasant new direction.

A devastatingly great and original cocktail? No — c’mon, it’s a gussied up whiskey sour, what the hell do you expect? — but it is damn tasty, easy on the eyes and a good candidate for a crowd-pleaser, even for those who claim not to like bourbon. In other words, it’s a perfect drink for a holiday party.

The recipe was contributed by Jeff “Beachbum” Berry, a man who knows a thing or two about crafting tasty concoctions. Berry says this is his choice of refreshment to leave out for St. Nick each Christmas Eve. Last Christmas, Berry’s books Grog Log and Intoxica! helped make my season bright, so this year I raise his lovely St. Nick Sour to celebrate the holidays.

St. Nick Sour

• 2 oz. bourbon (I used Elijah Craig, with excellent results; you might also try it with rye)
• 3/4 oz. fresh-squeezed orange juice
• 1/2 oz. fresh lemon juice
• 1/4 oz. orgeat

Shake with ice and pour into an old-fashioned glass. Garnish with spiral-cut orange and lemon peels.

And if you’ve taken the time to match the above recipe with the one in Imbibe, you’ll see I tweaked the drink a bit — Berry called for a full ounce of orange juice, which I dosed down a notch in order to keep a tart edge to the sour; and, his version called for 1 1/2 oz. of bourbon, which I increased to 2 oz. because … well, because it’s Christmas.

This drink is presented to mark the beginning (somewhat) of the holiday season, but it’s also a submission for Anna’s Festive Food Fair over at Morsels and Musings. Anna has been a great contributor to recent Mixology Mondays, and I wanted to join in the party for this debut event. Head on over to Anna’s site to see what other folks are putting together.

Tags: Bourbon, Drinks, Rye by Paul
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Sure, we just polished off one holiday (those of us in the U.S., anyway), and just ahead is a bevy of holidays to celebrate. But in between the office parties and fancy Christmas get-togethers, there are a couple of other events to keep in mind:

• Coming up first, chronologically speaking, is the fabulous new drink holiday proposed by Jeffrey Morgenthaler to commemorate the end of the “noble experiment,” the 13-year drought known as Prohibition. On December 5, 1933, the 18th Amendment was repealed and Americans could again legally tipple for the first time since 1919. Not only did Prohibition mark a troubling legal era in the United States, the Volstead Act altered the way people drank, and sent the mixological world in several unexpected directions as talented bartenders headed to Europe or the Caribbean to ply their trade, and drinkers had no choice but to become less picky about what they imbibed. Celebrate Repeal Day this December 5 by drinking — well, whatever you like, if for no other reason (as Morgenthaler says), “just because you can.”

• On December 11 is the celebratory edition of an event near and dear to my heart, Mixology Monday. Hosting this round is Brenda at The Spirit World, and for the December event, Brenda has chosen Drinks for a Festive Occasion as the theme. From your favorite eggnog recipe to an original creation that you think should become a holiday tradition, drinks for this event should be fit for the season — and, as Brenda notes, participants get extra points for submitting drinks suitable for a crowd. Check out The Spirit World for full details on MxMoX.

Tags: Events, Mixology Monday by Paul
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A long time ago, I lamented the fact that there weren’t many cocktails that called for limoncello as an ingredient. After a few rounds of experimentation I moved on to other things, but still, from time to time, I’d glance at the bottle of limoncello in my freezer and wish I could do something with it beyond simply enjoying the occasional chilled shot.

Call this wish fulfillment. I first tried this drink last week, at a newish Seattle lounge called Licorous (and which actually isn’t all that new, but since it took me several months to actually drag myself over there, it was new to me). Licorous’ cocktails have generated a lot of local attention, partially because of its pairings menu: an $8.50 drink is transformed into a $10.50 experience when a small, pre-selected appetizer is served alongside. Considering that the lounge is adjacent to and closely related to Lark, Jonathan Sundstrom’s acclaimed small-plate restaurant, the paired tidbits are blow-me-away ventures of the fois-gras-bon-bon and Armandino-Batali’s-oregano-salumi persuasion, and the bar similarly sets its mark high.

The Renaissance is a Robert Hess original, and is one of the best uses of limoncello in a cocktail since … well, maybe ever, at least in my experience. The brandy and the vermouth give it a nice, lush base, and the touch of limoncello spiked with bitters lend a mildly sweet, fruity perfume.

While Licorous prepares the cocktail using one of its house-made bitters, Robert says the drink was crafted with Fee’s Peach Bitters in mind. Having tried it both ways, I’ve found I prefer the brightness of the peach / lemon interplay, but if you haven’t got peach bitters on hand, I’d suggest taking a crack at this with a couple of dashes of orange bitters. It’ll be a slightly different drink, but still mighty tasty.

Renaissance

• 2 oz. brandy
• 1 1/3 oz. sweet vermouth
• 1/3 oz. limoncello
• 2 dashes Fee’s Peach Bitters (or try orange bitters, if you don’t have peach)

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Establishments, Vermouth by Paul
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Ever since I visited New Orleans last summer, I’ve been inordinately fond of two particular bottles in my liquor cabinet: the rich, luscious Sazerac 6-year-old rye whiskey, and New Orleans’ homegrown absinthe substitute, Herbsaint.

There’s something about the younger Sazerac that is just so damn lovable; it’s not as crisp as many Pennsylvania-style ryes like Rittenhouse bonded or Michter’s U.S. 1, and it’s not as mellow and bourbon-like as ryes like Van Winkle Family Reserve. Instead, it’s smooth and round, with a distinct herbaceous dryness matched with tinges of peaches and brown sugar. This rye is downright bosomy.

Herbsaint, of course, started life in New Orleans in 1934 as a stand-in for the banned absinthe, and quickly became the top American-made absinthe substitute. Today, it’s made in Kentucky (by the same company that makes the Sazerac rye), and aficionados say current bottlings aren’t up to the complexity of classic Herbsaint from the ’40s, but it’s distinctive anise character — rougher and more robust than French relations like Pernod and Ricard — is still desirable in a lot of cocktails. (Want more info? Pick up the latest issue of Imbibe, which has an article I wrote about Herbsaint.)

Typically, these two ingredients can be found hobnobbing with a hearty dose of Peychaud’s and a touch of sugar in a Sazerac, a drink that is the natural home for both the Sazerac rye and the Herbsaint. But it’s a shame to only mix these made-for-each-other spirits in one drink; thankfully, there’s another New Orleans cocktail, a kissing cousin of the Sazerac, that uses these ingredients to great effect: the Cocktail a la Louisiane.
In Famous New Orleans Drinks and How to Mix ‘Em, from 1937, Stanley Clisby Arthur writes that this was the house cocktail at the Restaurant de la Louisiane, “one of the famous French restaurants in New Orleans, long the rendezvous of those who appreciate the best in Creole cuisine.” The cocktail uses the Sazerac’s base of rye, Herbsaint and Peychaud’s, then fleshes it out with sweet vermouth and throws cascading layers of complexity into the drink with a mighty measure of Benedictine, a venerable French herbal liqueur. This cocktail is on the sweet side, but not cloying, as you might expect from a cursory glance at the recipe.

Rich and voluptuous, with the flavor of decadence mixed with sin, the Cocktail a la Louisiane is a great reason to break out the rye and pastis. This has become my signature drink of autumn 2006.

Cocktail a la Louisiane

• 3/4 oz. rye whiskey (I like the Sazerac 6-year in this, but it also works well with other brands)
• 3/4 oz. Benedictine
• 3/4 oz. sweet vermouth
• 3 dashes Herbsaint (use another pastis, or better yet absinthe, if you don’t have Herbsaint on hand)
• 3 dashes Peychaud’s bitters

Stir with cracked ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry.

Tags: Drinks, Rye, Vermouth by Paul
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Here we are, folks — MxMoIX is upon us, and our good host Michael Dietsch from A Dash of Bitters has chosen as his topic — wait for it — bitters.

If Michael had picked this one out ten years ago — hell, five years ago — it would have been a very sad, lonely little gathering. Sure, you had Angostura, and the dedicated of the dedicated knew of Fee’s (with a smaller product line back then) as well as Peychaud’s…and that was pretty much it (ignoring for right now that whole category of beverage bitters — the Camparis, Ramazottis, and Suzes of the world).

But how big bitters have become. Three-odd years ago I nearly swooned when I finally found a bottle of Fee’s Orange Bitters on the shelf at DeLaurenti’s, in Pike Place Market; today I mumble in indecision while trying to make up my mind if I’m in the mood for a dash of Fee’s, Regan’s, Hermes or The Bitter Truth orange bitters in my martini. There’s the bottle of Peychaud’s I always turn to, its white paper label stained pink from drops I’ve dashed over-enthusiastically; the bottle of Fee’s Old Fashioned Aromatic bitters that changed the way I think about Old Fashioneds; the brand-new bottle of The Bitter Truth Old Time Aromatic Bitters that are currently redefining my Manhattans; and of course, the hoary old bottle of Angostura, sometimes neglected among all the new upstarts, but always there with a complexity that’s mind-boggling, and that makes me appreciate the craft of bittersology (bitters engineering? embittering?) anew each time I taste them.

But let me snap out of my reverie for a minute and give up a couple of drinks. When it comes to really digging the taste of bitters, I find you’ve got to go completely old school — nothing trots out their flavor like the three best (says I) drinks in mixology: the Old Fashioned, the Martini and the Manhattan.

Erik’s covered the old fashioned today, so I’ll step right past that one and on to the others.

Orange bitters are, of course, a classic ingredient in a martini, and when made properly — that is, in the old-fashioned way I prefer — the drink is a perfect platform to showcase the taste of the bitters, loaded with enough flavor to keep the bitters from stealing the show, but with a cool, clear stage that lets the bitters show what they’re all about.

Martini (Savoy Cocktail Book style)

• 2 oz gin — (for me, Plymouth is everything I could want in a martini, but Junipero and Old Raj are other favorites)
• 1 oz fresh Noilly Prat dry vermouth
• 2 dashes orange bitters

Think ill of Ian Fleming for the pox he’s put on the martini while stirring the ingredients briskly with ice, then strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Take an olive and throw it in the trash, and dump the rest of the bottle after it — what do you want to taste, your exquisite gin/vermouth/bitters combo (that’s costing you anywhere upwards of $8 if you’re ordering it in a bar), or the salty swill from a $2.99 bottle of olives? Thought so. Twist a small strip of lemon peel over the drink. You may drop it in, if you prefer.

Manhattans, on the other hand, are more versatile, from a bitters perspective. Assuming you can find a bartender today who knows the damn things are supposed to have bitters, in all likelihood nearly all Manhattans in current circulation are made with Angostura. That’s fine; excellent, even. Angostura is perfectly happy in a background role in the Manhattan; it’s that indefinable ingredient that you can’t really pick out in the drink (unless you’ve dashed the hell out of it), but when it’s missing, you know something’s wrong. By all means, proceed with the Angostura.

Unless you’ve got one of the aromatic bitters on hand. Fee Brothers’ Old Fashioned Aromatic Bitters have a really lovely cinnamon note that can give a warming, let’s-enjoy-this-by-the-fire quality to a Manhattan. Orange bitters, too — especially Regan’s Orange Bitters No. 6 — give a nice, spry step to a Manhattan, and Fee’s Orange Bitters are no slackers, either. And while the combination was long overdue, it wasn’t until my trip to New Orleans last summer that I finally had a Manhattan touched with the smooth, sweet flavor of Peychauds.

Like my choice of whiskey in a Manhattan, my choice of bitters depends on my mood (and on my choice of whiskey). For Manhattans I’m all rye, all the time, but different ryes work in different ways. For Old Overholt, the old workhorse of the rye family, Angostura or Fee’s Old Fashioned put a little spark in its style; with Wild Turkey, Fee’s Aromatic or Regan’s orange are what I’ll be reaching for. Michter’s US 1 likes the more subtle orange aspect of the Japanese Hermes Orange bitters, while Sazerac 6-year-old mixed with Peychaud’s makes an especially voluptuous cocktail that you just want to climb into and wallow around in.

Then, there’s the bonded Rittenhouse. My favorite Manhattan-mixing rye nowadays, Rittenhouse pairs beautifully with the wisdom of Angostura, and when mixed with Carpano Antica vermouth, I have a cocktail I’d be happy to drink each evening for all of eternity when I’m called to that great happy hour in the sky.

Or had, anyway. See, after nearly a century of inertia, the bitters world is changing rapidly now, and very recently I had my first Manhattan mixed with The Bitter Truth Old Time Aromatic Bitters. If you haven’t heard of this stuff, it’s one of three new types of bitters produced by Stephan Berg and Alexander Hauck in Munich (the others are orange and lemon), and the Aromatic Bitters make an absolutely astounding Manhattan (an impeccable Old Fashioned, too). Somewhat similar in flavor to Robert Hess’ House Bitters (my watery version of the recipe, anyway), the Aromatic Bitters are soft, warm and smooth, with a gentle flavor I’d guess has cardamom / clove / star anise all mixed together. The Orange Bitters, too, are rich and complex, with a flavor somewhere halfway between Regan’s and Fee’s — not as sharp as Regan’s, not as soft as Fee’s, with a fresh, citrusy snap that I’ve enjoyed in the few cocktails (martini, Manhattan) I’ve used it in thus far. I’m only beginning to try the lemon bitters, but they have a lot of potential as well.

If you’ve read this far you’re probably a cocktail and especially bitters geek like me, so by all means, clickety right here for The Bitter Truth and order some of the best new cocktail ingredients to hit the market in recent memory. Bookmark that URL, too — rumor has it they’re working on additional bitters for future release.

Anyway, I’m swooning again, and maybe drooling just a little bit. Manhattan time.

Manhattan

• 2 ounces rye whiskey (bourbon if you must, but really, rye)*
• 3/4 ounce sweet vermouth (if you use Carpano Antica, you’re sitting pretty; Cinzano and Martini & Rossi also work well)
• 2 dashes bitters*

FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, PUT DOWN THAT SHAKER! A Manhattan isn’t supposed to have a head on it….

Stir well with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry (well-rinsed) or a strip of lemon peel.

* mix & match your brands

And for total fairness and diversity in your liquor cabinet, check these out, too:

Regan’s Orange Bitters No. 6 and Peychaud’s Bitters

Fee Brothers (makers of the recommended Old Fashioned Aromatic Bitters, West Indian Orange Bitters, Lemon Bitters and Peach Bitters, and the not-so-highly recommended Mint Bitters, which were a nice idea but just don’t work so well).

Angostura — found pretty much everywhere

Hermes Orange Bitters — found pretty much nowhere, except Japan and the occasional lucky export market

Tags: Bourbon, Drinks, Gin, Mixology Monday, Rye by Paul
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