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Who Is This Man, and Why You Should Care

It’s Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial start of summer here in the U.S., and for cocktail geeks everywhere it’s a time to be gearing up for what looks to be a very busy season. Already folks in New York City are scouring fine liquor stores, searching for the first shipment of true-blue, bonafide absinthe to (legally) hit the shores in nearly a century — and if you’re skeptical, then good for you, but this stuff is straight from Ted Breaux, perhaps the most highly regarded producer of commercial absinthes in the world. Next month, Angostura orange bitters are headed for the U.S. market, along with at least two more highly anticipated products that I can’t really go into just yet (but if you want to figure out what I’m talking about, make sure your Imbibe subscription is current, and keep an eye out for the next issue).

And then, of course, there’s Tales of the Cocktail. We’re less than two months away, and the top cocktail event of the year will be upon us sooner than you know it. There are literally hundreds of people who are coming together to make this event possible, including many bartenders and chefs from the event’s hometown of New Orleans, who are bringing out the city’s best for the occasion.

Chris DeBarrAmong this group of locals is this guy. Chris DeBarr is chef at The Delachaise, and last year he was selected Best New Chef in the city by New Orleans Magazine (a fine publication that hopefully won’t mind that I’m borrowing their photo for this writeup). Over the past couple of months Chris has taken on two formidable tasks: he’s moved into a new home, and he’s worked with Darcy O’Neil and myself to create a menu for one of Tales’ Spirited Dinners, to be held on July 19.

The idea is simple: a chef comes up with a menu, and the bar advisors (they call us “bar chefs” on the menu, a term I have no problem with except when it’s hung around my neck) come up with paired cocktails to serve. But Chris set the bar very high: he came to us with a concept of a meal that would celebrate the legacy of Lafcadio Hearn, a 19th century journalist who, over the course of a decade in the 1870s and ’80s, chronicled the lives and culture of the people of New Orleans.

Lafcadio HearnHearn’s life is much more complicated than that, of course, a fact that became clear to me as I embarked on a mission to read his work and better understand his life, so that Darcy and I could relate to the grand vision Chris had planned for the meal. From his birth in Greece to his life in Cincinnatti, New Orleans and Martinique, and culminating in his decision to spend the rest of his life in Japan, Hearn was a writer who saw many parts of the world in a very tumultuous time, and chose to chronicle the lives of those often overlooked by society and ignored in the literature of the day.

Figuring out a menu based on Hearn’s life took a lot of work on everyone’s part, and a few of the fine details are still being worked out, but I think we’ve come up with a fantastic selection of dishes and drinks to serve in this tribute dinner.

You can check out the full menu in all its PDF glory here, or if you don’t feel like the download, here’s the scoop (Chris has also posted about the dinner on his blog):

A Tribute Spirited Dinner for Lafcadio Hearn @ The Delachaise

Welcome cocktail (to be determined)

Amuse-bouche

Flounder Sushi with Rose Petal Rice

Tchoupitoulas Street Guzzle: a New Orleans refresher from the 1850s, made with Cruzan rum and spicy ginger beer

Greek Beginnings from Lefkas

A trio of shape-shifting appetizers with Greek appearances; however, as was always the case with Lafcadio Hearn, appearances can be deceiving…

Apollo’s Cup – Plymouth gin, Martini & Rossi sweet vermouth, Patron Citronge and Fee Brothers West Indian Orange Bitters, touched with lemon and lime and lightly effervescent.

Grand Isle, Last Island, Louisiana

Grilled Shrimp, Andouille and Baby Artichoke Skewer over Creamy Buckwheat Polenta with Spicy Salsa Verde

Les Coulisses Cocktail – a wispy and entrancing mix of Plymouth gin, Cynar, Chartreuse and Fee Brothers West Indian Orange Bitters.

His name is Koizumi Yakumo

Wild Salmon marinated in Sake Lees, with Heirloom Tomato, Cucumber and Red Dulse Seaweed, finished with Smoky Umeboshi Plum Sauce

Matsue Melange – Plymouth gin, Momokawa sake and Asian fruits

Oceans, Islands, Swimming in the Cabinet of Memories

White Peach Mousse Chilled between layers of traditional fish-shaped Japanese pancakes with Cherry-Plum Wine Sauce

Pepe Llulla’s Swizzle: a soothing drink made with Cruzan Rum, Rhum Clement Creole Shrubb, Fee Brothers Whiskey Barrel-Aged Old Fashioned Aromatic Bitters, Peychaud’s bitters, Herbsaint and fresh mint.

and many other delicious flourishes

Cool, huh?

If you’re planning on being in New Orleans for Tales, please consider joining us for dinner (and if you’re not going to be in New Orleans for Tales, why the hell not?). The tribute to Lafcadio Hearn begins at 8:00 on July 19, and seating is limited to 16 guests; the price is $85 per person, inclusive.

Chris, Darcy and I are planning one hell of a show, and we hope to see you there.

Book your meal here.

(Thanks also to Murray Stenson, for helping me out with the cocktail that became Les Coulisses. Credit where it’s due.)

Helloooooooo, Pittsburgh!

The Los Angeles Times. The Wall Street Journal. The New York Times. Imbibe magazine. Now, add the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette to the list of publications that have jumped on the “rye is back!” bandwagon.

This is fitting, though, considering that western Pennsylvania was the source of so much rye whiskey in the years before it fell from grace. In today’s story, reporter Bill Toland explores the region’s historic connection with the spirit, and looks at how present-day whiskey fiends are going bezonkers over bottles of Rittenhouse, Michter’s and Sazerac. A couple of details are fumbled a bit, but only hardcore booze geeks like me — and, if you’re reading this, probably you — will notice or give a hoot about it; otherwise, there’s plenty of solid information here.

To tell the story, Toland talks to whiskey historians John and Linda Lipman and to Lew Bryson, managing editor of Malt Advocate. While working on the story, Toland also called some of the finest minds in whiskey and mixology; unable to reach any of them, he instead had to settle for talking to me.

Head on over here to read Toland’s story, and to see how good I am at making an ass of myself while talking to the media.

Seventh Heaven

One of the few remaining drinks in Ted Haigh’s Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails that I had yet to try, mainly due to the fact that it’s rare for me to have both grapefruit and fresh mint in the house at the same time.

The recipe also always struck me as somewhat simple, with little potential to surprise. That was a mistake — this is actually quite a bright and refreshing cocktail. While a heavy dose of maraschino can overwhelm most drinks, when paired with the equally assertive grapefruit and leavened with the airy taste of fresh mint, the liqueur’s distinctive funkiness is kept in balance.

A nice drink to try when you’re looking for something new, and maybe a little surprise.

Seventh Heaven

  • 1 3/4 ounce gin [I used Bombay Original]
  • 1/4 ounce fresh grapefruit juice
  • 1/2 ounce maraschino liqueur
  • fresh mint sprig

Shake with cracked ice and strain through a fine-mesh strainer into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a mint leaf.

Two Down

In the tequila-clouded aftermath of the super turnout for this Mixology Monday — 25 people, more than 30 cocktail recipes (see the full details here) — I nearly forgot something else that was going on this week. It’s not of major significance to the larger quality cocktail community — and there’s plenty of mondo significance coming up in the next few months (but I’ll get to that later) — but it’s a little milestone for me.

Tuesday in Seattle was bright and warm, a mid-summer day transplanted into May. That evening, I was really in the mood for a summery beverage, and after a few turns I wound up with one of my old reliables, an El Presidente. This led me to recall that it was the very first cocktail I blogged about here, which then led me to remember that — CRAP! — this week marks the second anniversary of the birth of the Cocktail Chronicles.

When I started this blog, I thought it might be of interest to about a half-dozen sodden booze geeks — bitters-dashing, rye whiskey-guzzling, Jerry Thomas-spouting misfits, every one of them. But that was okay — I was mainly doing this for myself, as an outlet to keep my writing chops in an editor-free environment, and to explore the depths of my own cocktail geekery as a person who knew of, but didn’t know, other people with the same passion.

Two years later, there are between 300 and 1,800 of you misfits (depending on which site counter you trust) who come by here on an average day. While a lot of you are looking for “rum and gunpowder” and “cough syrup and vodka” postings (yes, really), according to Sitemeter, at least a good chunk of you are actually here looking for … something, and hopefully you’re finding it.

The booze writing, too, has expanded from just a way to keep myself amused into a reliable paid gig, and that’s definitely something I’m thankful for. And while this blog started with me, alone, prattling away about El Presidentes and Police Gazette Cocktails and whatever other nonsense I dredged out of old books, over the past two years it has put me in touch with almost all of the people I’ve most respected and emulated in today’s great, evolving world of mixology, and it’s also introduced me to many others who are helping to spread the word of quality cocktails. Many of these folks have patiently answered my questions or have come to me with their own, and some have become good friends — it’s much more than I anticipated or could have hoped for when I embarked on this journey in May of 2005. I’m constantly amazed, and deeply humbled, that other people come and read this site, and the e-mails and comments I get — many from the world’s most talented bartenders and amateur mixologists — keep me walking on air.

So, before I plunge into the third year of the Cocktail Chronicles, I just want to pause and say — THANK YOU, to everybody who takes the time to visit on a regular basis, and to join in on the conversation. The next round is on me.

MxMo XV: Tequila

Mixology Monday: TequilaThis one made me sweat. Over the past four years or so, I’ve gone pretty much full-tilt on learning everything I can about spirits and cocktails, but when tackling such a big field, there are inevitably some holes that will need to be filled at a later time. For me, tequila is a big one of those holes.

Part of the reason for this is the price — a decent 100 percent agave tequila costs roughly twice what a bourbon, rye or rum of comparable quality does — but versatility also plays a factor. Open any typical cocktail guide, and you’ll find acres of coverage for gin, rum and whiskey, but just a smattering of recipes for tequila. If you prefer more vintage books like I do, feel lucky if you turn up a tequila cocktail at all. And when you do, it’s mostly margaritas and tequila sunrises, with the occasional Freddie Fudpucker thrown in for comic effect.

But thanks to Matt over at My Bar, Your Bar, our gracious host for this round of Mixology Monday, I’ve been forced to start exploring the world of tequila, with mostly positive results. I’ll skip over my experiments with sangrita recipes — Jimmy nailed a good one a couple of rounds back — and the lovely Prado — which Anita already mixed up for this round — and cut right to two newish tequila cocktails that seemed promising: the Sangre de Agave and the Rosebud.

The Sangre de Agave comes from David Wondrich’s Killer Cocktails, and takes the classic marriage between tequila, lime juice and creme de cassis, and knocks it silly with a firm slap of dark, heavy rum.

Sangre de Agave

  • 1 1/2 ounce reposado Tequila [Don Julio]
  • 1/2 ounce dark, heavy rum [Pusser’s]
  • 3/4 ounce lime juice
  • 1/2 ounce creme de cassis
  • 1/2 teaspoon rich simple syrup

Shake with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass

I’m reserving judgement on this one — while mixing the drink I realized two things: my limes were lousy and my cassis was kaput. Taking this into account, the drink was still pretty intriguing, with the peppery funk of the tequila coming on right away, but with that smooth, round bass note of rum giving the concoction some welcome gravitas. My crappy cassis didn’t supply the full fruity richness I was looking for, but that’s easily remedied, as is the coarse bitterness that I’m blaming on the fine-looking but nasty-tasting limes I got at Trader Joe’s. A drink to come back to with more efficient ingredients.

But I didn’t want to leave Mixology Monday on a down note — I’ve already done that — so this evening I started going through the books, looking for a lime- and cassis-free tequila cocktail that showed promise. Wisely, I started my search with The Art of the Bar: Cocktails Inspired by the Classics, a really beautiful and spectacular book by Jeff Hollinger and Rob Schwartz from Absinthe in San Francisco. I’ve had this book on the shelf for months, and I keep meaning to dig into it for a post, so what better time. Plus, I’ve got a soft spot in my jaded heart for the pitch-black musings of Citizen Kane, and the touch of bitterness in this cocktail seemed entirely appropriate.

Rosebud

  • Dash of rosewater
  • 1 1/2 ounces silver tequila
  • 1/2 ounce Carpano Antica sweet vermouth
  • Dash of Campari
  • 1 piece orange zest, about 1 1/2 inches long and 1/2 inch wide

Rinse a chilled cocktail glass with the dash of rosewater, discarding the excess. Stir the tequila and vermouth with ice and strain into the glass. Flame the orange zest over the drink (light a match and hold it above and just slightly to the side of the drink, point the zest at the flame and spray the oil through the fire onto the drink surface). Add a few drops of Campari to the surface.

Wowser. The rosewater rinse and the burnt orange oil make this a very fragrant drink, but the taste is crisp and smooth, like a martini with its collar button undone. It’s kind of deceptive — the aroma is very flowery and perfumey, with no trace of tequila’s telltale whiff of pepper, so you’re expecting the taste of a flower bomb, like a cocktail supercharged with an aromatic gin like Hendrick’s or Aviation and matched with chartreuse. Thing is, the flavor is nothing like that — the florals take a backseat to the gentle bitterness of the Antica slightly prodded by the Campari, and that bitterness meshes very well with the vegetal funk of the tequila. Nicely done — if you’re looking for a delicate tequila cocktail, this is a good candidate.

That’s my little tour of tequila for this round of Mixology Monday. Head on over to Matt’s place to see what everybody else is doing with tequila.

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