As the creeping madness that is cocktailphilia gradually overtakes its victim, it’s not unusual for he or she to gradually become consumed with the pursuit of ever-more obscure ingredients. At first, depending on the victim’s location and his or her proximity to decent liquor stores, this obsession may focus on the hunt for maraschino liqueur, Parfait Amour and orange bitters. Later, more difficult-to-find items such as Dutch gin, rhum agricole, Carpano Antica and small-batch rye whiskies become the subjects of endless Internet searches and furtive shopping expeditions. Left untreated, the victim is soon doomed, consumed by a keening longing for Swedish Punsch, pimento dram and Amer Picon.

I write all this while basking in the glow of a recent obscure booze fix. I finally have in my liquor cabinet a bottle of creme de violette, a liqueur unavailable in the United States (and relatively hard to find, though available, in Europe and Japan) and a vital component to such golden-oldie cocktails as the Addie, the Blue Moon and the original (so I’m told) Aviation. A frantic search through wine and spirits shops in France last summer failed to turn up any violette, and I’d long been planning to special order a bottle from Sally Clarke’s in London, only to have my dreams shattered earlier this month by the news that they no longer stocked the item.

Leave it to the readers of this humble little blog to fix me up, though. Thanks to Chris and Julia, who live in Tokyo but frequently visit Seattle, I’m the proud owner of a bottle of Suntory’s Hermes Creme de Violette, a bright-tasting liqueur with a deep violet color. (As a matter of taste comparison, last night I had the pleasure to sample some G. Miele Liqueur de Violette — thanks to John Pyles, who shares this affliction — which had a more subtle violet flavor but a longer finish than the Hermes.) Obscure ingredient in hand, I was ready to set my shaker in motion.

First drink to try? A Blue Moon — simply a gin sour with the violette in place of the sugar (or, if you like, an aviation with violette in place of the maraschino). No easier said than done…

Except, it’s not quite that easy (Warning: If you’d rather not geek out over this too much, feel free to skip down to the recipe). I’d been accustomed to thinking of the Blue Moon along the lines of the recipe listed by David Embury in The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks: 8 parts gin, 2 parts lemon juice, 1 part violette (Crosby Gaige lists a similar recipe, of the 4:1:1 ratio, in his Standard Cocktail Guide from 1944; a year later, he sweetened it up to a 2:1:1 ratio in his Cocktail Guide and Ladies Companion, and Vic Bergeron used this same recipe in his Trader Vic’s Bartender’s Guide). Still, proportions aside, it seems fairly straightforward.

But then, I checked the Esquire Drink Book from 1956, and found another Blue Moon, this one in the form of a standard 2:1 dry martini with a dash of orange bitters and an added dash of Creme d’Yvette, a defunct brand of the violette. Patrick Gavin Duffy confuses matters even further — something he’s good at doing — in his Standard Bartender’s Guide from 1948 (I don’t have an earlier version; maybe someone who does can help me out) by offering this same recipe, but then indicating that after the drink is mixed and strained into a cocktail glass, it should be topped off with Claret. Weird, huh?

So, nothing to do but to try them both (using Embury’s drier recipe for the first, and Esquire’s claret-free version for the second). The verdict? Equally lovely.

Blue Moon #1 (adapted from David Embury’s The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks*)

• 2 ounces gin (I used Bombay)
• 1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice
• 1/4 ounce creme de violette

Shake with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass.

* Embury also calls this drink a Blue Devil, and indicates an egg white may be added to the cocktail for extra body.

Blue Moon #2 (adapted from Esquire Drinks Book)

• 2 ounces gin (I used Plymouth)
• 1 ounce dry vermouth
• 1 dash orange bitters
• 1 dash creme de violette

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

Tags: Drinks, Gin, Vermouth by Paul
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Excerpt from “Dancing Dan’s Christmas,” from Blue Plate Special, by Damon Runyon, 1931

Now one time it comes on Christmas, and in fact it is the evening before Christmas, and I am in Good Time Charley Bernstein’s little speakeasy in West Forth-seventh Street, wishing Charley a Merry Christmas and having a few hot Tom and Jerrys with him.

This hot Tom and Jerry is an old-time drink that is once used by one and all in this country to celebrate Christmas with, and in fact it is once so popular that many people think Christmas is invented only to furnish an excuse for hot Tom and Jerry, although of course this is by no means true.

But anybody will tell you that there is nothing that brings out the true holiday spirit like hot Tom and Jerry, and I hear that since Tom and Jerry goes out of style in the United States, the holiday spirit is never quite the same.

The reason hot Tom and Jerry goes out of style is because it is necessary to use rum and one thing and another in making Tom and Jerry, and naturally when rum becomes illegal in this country Tom and Jerry is also against the law, because rum is something that is very hard to get around town these days.

For a while some people try making hot Tom and Jerry without putting rum in it, but somehow it never has the same old holiday spirit, so nearly everybody finally gives up in disgust, and this is not surprising, as making Tom and Jerry is by no means child’s play. In fact, it takes quite an expert to make good Tom and Jerry, and in the days when it is not illegal a good hot Tom and Jerry maker commands good wages and many friends.

Now of course Good Time Charley and I are not using rum in the Tom and Jerry we are making, as we do not wish to do anything illegal. What we are using is rye whisky that Good Time Charley gets on a doctor’s prescription from a drug store, as we are personally drinking this hot Tom and Jerry and naturally we are not foolish enough to use any of Good Time Charley’s own rye in it.

The prescription for the rye whisky comes from old Doc Moggs, who prescribes it for Good Time Charley’s rheumatism in case Charley happens to get any rheumatism, as Doc Moggs says there is nothing better for rheumatism than rye whisky, especially if it is made up in a hot Tom and Jerry. In fact, old Doc Moggs comes around and has a few seidels of hot Tom and Jerry with us for his own rheumatism.

He comes around during the afternoon, for Good Time Charley and I start making this Tom and Jerry early in the day, so as to be sure to have enough to last us over Christmas, and it is now along toward six o’clock, and our holiday spirit is practically one hundred per cent.

Yes, I’ve done the Tom & Jerry before, but in the spirit of the season — and in consideration of the gazillions of people googling for this right now — I wanted to dig out this great Runyon passage that I feeble-mindedly half-remembered last year, and share it with … well, with regular visitors and casual googlers alike.

Tom & Jerry, for a crowd

Batter:

• 12 eggs, separated
• 1 pound sugar
• 2 ounces aged rum (Appleton V/X, Bacardi 8 and Havana Club Anejo work well, along with many others)
• 1/2 tsp ground cloves
• 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
• 1/2 tsp ground allspice (or 1 oz pimento dram)

Beat the egg yolks until thin, and gradually whisk in the sugar. Add the rum & spices. In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff and fold into the yolk mixture until well mixed.

For each drink, put 2 ounces of batter into a toddy mug (you may want to scale that back if using a smaller mug or coffee cup). Add 1 ounce each of brandy and aged rum (or bourbon, or rye, a la Good Time Charley) and fill mug with equal parts hot milk and boiling water. Top with grated nutmeg.

For those keeping score, this is a different recipe than the Audrey Saunders version from last year. Open a dozen cocktail manuals and you’ll find as many different variations on the Tom & Jerry. That’s okay — the punch is easily customized, and the above version is in the direction my personal taste is currently taking me.

Like it sweeter? More sugar. Spicier? Ramp up the allspice and cloves. Richer? More milk, less water. Boozier? You can figure that out. You’ve found the right recipe when it tastes good to you and your guests, and when it leaves your holiday spirit practically one hundred per cent.

Happy Holidays to all–

Tags: Bourbon, Brandy, Drinks, Rum, Rye by Paul
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It’s easy to think of this old chestnut of a drink as a lazy man’s eggnog — I do, in a fashion. But this relic from mixology’s mesozoic era has enough of its own character to deserve attention and respect, especially at this time of year.

Now, I’m sure there are a number of people who read the headline and then moved on, grimacing at the thought of mixing the stuff your mom was always making you drink with the stuff she was always trying to keep you from drinking. That’s a definite mistake (one I was guilty of making myself for way too long). With a nice, aged spirit and a touch of sugar (and some vanilla, if your tastebuds trend that way), milk makes a silky, soothing base for this gentle, warming concoction. In New Orleans, you’re likely to encounter this as a morning beverage — what a beautiful idea — and while typically served cold, you can certainly warm up your milk punch to take the edge off a winter day.

The milk punch is classically made with brandy and / or rum, but bourbon also does a fine job, and is a favorite among many aficionados. Short of using Campari or soy milk (sorry, vegan lushes), it’s hard to screw up a milk punch (like your mother, the milk punch is very forgiving). And if you’ve made yourself some homemade pimento dram (or have a bottle from Jamaica lying around), a dash or two in the mixing glass gives the punch a warming, spicy smoothness that’s especially welcome six days before Christmas, when you’ve still got two weeks worth of shopping to do and no opening in your schedule in which to do it.

Milk Punch

• 1 ounce brandy*
• 1 ounce dark rum*
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 2 dashes vanilla extract (optional)
• 2 dashes pimento dram (optional)
• 4-6 ounces whole milk, to taste (I suppose you could use 2% in a pinch, but you’ll be missing out on the punch’s full effect)

Stir with ice and strain over crushed ice into a large goblet. Sprinkle with nutmeg. (Or, mix the booze, sugar and flavoring in a mug and fill with hot milk. Do the nutmeg thing if desired.)

* Bourbon may be substituted for the brandy & rum. Or, brandy may be substituted for the rum, rum for the brandy, or whatever other option you may consider.

Tags: Bourbon, Brandy, Drinks, Pimento Dram, Rum by Paul
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I can’t explain why I find it so satisfying, but in It’s a Wonderful Life, the grand holiday weeper that’s near-inescapable at this time of year, there’s a brief scene in a rough kind of barroom as Clarence the angel and Jimmy Stewart / George stop in for something to help them warm up:

CLARENCE: I was just thinking . . . It’s been so long since I . . .

NICK (impatient): Look, mister, I’m standing here waiting for you to make up your mind.

CLARENCE (appreciatively): That’s a good man. I was just thinking of a flaming rum punch. No, it’s not cold enough for that. Not nearly cold enough . . . Wait a minute . . . wait a minute . . . I got it. Mulled wine, heavy on the cinnamon and light on the cloves. Off with you, me lad, and be lively!

NICK: Hey, look mister, we serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast. And we don’t need any characters around to give the joint atmosphere. Is that clear? Or do I have to slip you my left for a convincer?

CLARENCE (to George): What’s he talking about?

GEORGE (soothingly): Nick — Nick, just give him the same as mine. He’s okay.

Sure, laugh at the little angel guy with his old-timey ways and his thirst for hot spiced hooch — but if you’re spending your holiday party with a dry martini in your hand, you’re missing out on something. (Not that I have anything against dry martinis, of course — far from it — but it’s Christmas, for Chrissake…)

There’s something about the holidays that makes you reach for things you’d probably avoid the rest of the year — eggnog, gluhwein, tepid crab puffs that have been sitting on the buffet table for three hours. This holiday, add one more item to the list: a mugful of something from a BIG FLAMING BOWL OF BOOZE.

Flamed drinks aren’t the sole province of Jaeger-soaked frat-boys tossing back Irish Car Bombs: burning liquor has a heritage that includes the tiki (like Flaming Coffee Grog), the New Orleans (the Cafe Brulot — damn, gotta do that one sometime) and the uber-classic (the Blue Blazer). On Christmas, a flaming punch has extra appeal — it looks pretty festive among all the holiday trappings; it gives you something to chat about while you’re tippling under the mistletoe; it perfumes the air with the Christmasey smell of oranges and spice; and, a ladle in your hand full of something burning sends a not-so-subtle message to your sister’s husband that it just might be time to shut…the fuck…up.

This recipe comes from Esquire’s Handbook for Hosts, from 1949:

Christmas Rum Punch

• 6 oranges
• 1/2 gallon sweet cider
• 1 bottle Jamaica rum, bestest [I’ve used Myers and Appleton V/X with decent results; I’d bet it would also work well with a Barbados rum, or maybe even Bacardi 8. Nothing too posh, though — save that for fortifying yourself to hear your uncle’s advice on franchise opportunities.]
• Sugar to taste
• Whole cloves
• Ground cinnamon and nutmeg

Stick the oranges full of cloves and bake them in the oven until they soften [20-30 minutes at 350 should do the trick]. Place oranges in the punch bowl, pour over them the rum and granulated sugar to taste. Set fire to rum and in a few minutes [ed note: make that seconds; see above] add the cider slowly to extinguish the flame. Stir in cinnamon and nutmeg, and keep the mixture hot.

I’ve made this punch the past two years, with good results. It’s incredibly easy to make — a bonus when you’ve accidentally committed yourself to make appetizers, sides, dessert and drinks for 12, and you started on the Tom & Jerry’s early. Experience says to make sure you have a sturdy punch bowl, preferably silver — unless your goal is to create an unforgettable holiday memory by assassinating your mother-in-law’s Waterford. Warm everything up beforehand, too; in addition to the obvious benefits, warm rum lights easier than cold. Also, be prepared with the cider; while the flames make the spices flare and pop nicely, letting the cloves burn too long will leave ashes in your drink and make your house smell like you’ve invited over the audience from a Cure concert. And experiment with your forms of sugar (go easy, though) — a few cubes of Demerara, strategically placed, will give a nice caramel touch to the punch. Finally, should you have any pimento dram on hand, a modest slug mixed in with the punch gives it an extra holiday kick.

So cue up Nat King Cole, put on your fuzzy reindeer sweater and smile like you mean it. With a couple of these boozy holiday bracers in you, it might just seem like the most wonderful time of the year.

Need more holiday cheer? Head on over to The Spirit World, where our good host Brenda is taking care of this round of Mixology Monday, themed Drinks for a Festive Occasion.

And, of course…happy holidays.

Tags: Drinks, Mixology Monday, Pimento Dram, Rum by Paul
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“Temperate temperance is best. Intemperate temperance injures the cause of temperance, while temperate temperance helps it in its fight against intemperate intemperance. Fanatics will never learn that, though it be written in letters of gold across the sky.”
–Mark Twain, 1896

In case you haven’t wandered anywhere near a booze blog in the past couple of weeks, today is the anniversary of the official repeal of the 18th amendment, the demise of which gave Americans the right to enjoy a tipple or two for the first time in 13 years. Those years weren’t quite “dry” of course — google “speakeasy” and you’ll see what I mean — but for the first time in a generation, an American of appropriate age could once again step into the local to hoist a pint or a pour of their favorite alcoholic libation. Over the course of Prohibition, countless lives were damaged or destroyed by sub-standard booze, over-zealous prosecutors and criminal organizations, while otherwise upstanding citizens found themselves regularly flouting the law in order to enjoy a glass of beer or a touch of whiskey when the mood struck. The “Noble Experiment” was one hell of a mess.

So whose bright idea was this catastrophe, anyway? Fingers can be pointed in a lot of different directions, but one especially deserving group is the Women’s Christian Temperance Union. The W.C.T.U. dates to 1874 (and yes, they’re still around), and took as their primary mission the elimination of all alcoholic beverages. Under the leadership of Frances Willard, the W.C.T.U. mobilized communities throughout the country to ban the sale and consumption of alcohol, culminating in the passage of the 18th amendment. At its peak, the group had hundreds of thousands of members (though the W.C.T.U. were, ahem, selective — no Catholics, Jews, African Americans or women born outside of North America were admitted), and Willard was considered the most famous woman in the world after Queen Victoria (there’s still a statue of her in Statuary Hall in the U.S. Capitol).

Repeal, no doubt, was a setback to the organization, but it still exists today. They’re still thumping the tub for the drys, but to expand their message and keep them contemporary, the W.C.T.U. also campaigns on more modern causes including abortion and gay marriage (I’ll let you guess which side they come down on).

This repeal day, I’m lifting a glass in memory of the thankfully brief time that this group of pathologically obsessive busybodies managed to dictate the manner in which responsible adults can behave. The drink is adapted from Crosby Gaige’s Cocktail Guide and Ladies’ Companion, from 1941, a time when Americans were still unwinding from the long, dark era.

W.C.T.U. (”Much too good for them,” writes Gaige)

• 1 1/4 ounce brandy
• 1 1/4 ounce dry vermouth
• 2 dashes Angostura bitters
• 2 dashes orange bitters

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

Thanks to Jeffrey Morgenthaler for alerting me to Repeal Day activities — given the weight Dewar’s is throwing into the party, and the number of drink blogs it’s showing up on, today should be a grand, grand day.

(And while I normally recoil at the whole viral marketing thing, this Repeal Day ad from Dewar’s is actually pretty damn funny)

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Vermouth by Paul
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