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MxMo Lime: Planet of the Apes

In case you’re new to this blog, I’m a longtime fan of tiki, and ever since I got my spiral-bound copy of Grog Log for Christmas several years back, I’ve kept an ingredient list in my notebook for those times when I’m in grocery or liquor stores that have an inventory leaning to the esoteric, so I’ll know if that jar of guava jelly or that box of passion fruit juice has any future in a rum drink.

But some exotic drinks have a “guess you had to be there” air about them, with ingredients that may not be that hard to obtain but that raise significant concerns — such as, “Isn’t that stuff crap?” and “What the hell would I do with a whole bottle of that stuff?”

Case in point: the Planet of the Apes, an original drink by Jeff “Beachbum” Berry (it first appeared in Grog Log, but now it’s also in Beachbum Berry Remixed, an essential volume for any home bar, tiki or otherwise) that lists among its ingredients pineapple juice (no problem), orange juice (ditto), dark Jamaican rum (are you kidding me? I’ve got loads!) and crème de banana (um, what?). (The drink also calls for fresh lime juice, and in case you didn’t read my previous post, the theme for this month’s Mixology Monday is “Lime,” as selected by this month’s host, Doug at Pegu Blog.)

In almost every liquor store I’ve been to, the only “crème de banana” I’ve seen on the shelf has been a urine-yellow syrupy liqueur that likely has a flavor closer to that of Juicy Fruit than to a real banana. Once or twice a year, however, I venture north to Vancouver, and as I learned several years ago, in that fair city it’s possible to obtain liqueurs produced by the French firm Giffard, including a premium line of liqueurs that are among the best and most evocative of fresh fruit that I’ve ever tasted.

Enter Giffard’s Banane du Bresil, which the company describes as “A blend of slow maceration of best bananas from Brazil, spirit of bananas for an intense aroma, and a touch of Cognac to add body.” Figuring that maybe it’s time I kept a banana liqueur around the house — either for times when I’m in the mood for a daiquiri with a twist, or for exotic-drink explorations such as the Planet of the Apes, or for just shocking the hell out of guests — I picked up a bottle earlier this month while spending the weekend in Vancouver. To be honest, I picked up two bottles, one of which is currently en route to Southern California, and I can now attest that there’s perhaps no better way to provoke a look of curiosity and concern on a liquor store employee’s face than by putting two bottles of fancy banana liqueur on the counter.

Anyway, back to the drink. Berry notes this drink is based on the West Indian Punch (though there are apparently a couple of those, in addition to the old-timey one from Jerry Thomas, so as with the rest of the world of drinks, confusion reigns), and the mix of orange, pineapple and banana is one of those classic (and overdone) tropical combinations that has the potential to be banal; toss some strong-flavored rum in the mix, however, and this flavor grows up very nicely.

I’m imagining that the 3/4 ounce of crème de banana that the recipe calls for would give the drink an identity that rests squarely on BANANA (flavored), but the Giffard banana liqueur is a much more nuanced thing. Tasting very much like fresh (or, more accurately, cooked) bananas with a little vanilla and ginger in the mix, the liqueur is lovely on its own, but when mixed with other ingredients its flavor is somewhat subdued; fortunately the liqueur is also not oppressively sugary, so it’s easy enough to remedy the issue by simply increasing the size of the pour to a full ounce.

Planet of the Apes
From Beachbum Berry Remixed

  • 1 ounce dark Jamaican rum (I used Appleton Extra)
  • 1/2 ounce fresh lime juice
  • 1 ounce pineapple juice
  • 1 ounce orange juice
  • 3/4 ounce banana liqueur
  • 1/2 ounce amber 151-proof rum (I’m unfortunately out of Cruzan, so I used Lemon Hart demerara rum. Don’t tell Jeff I messed with his recipe)

Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker and fill with ice. Shake well, and pour – unstrained – into a tall glass. Garnish with a slice of banana speared to a cherry.

Okay, so I talked more about the liqueur and not so much about the lime. But c’mon — in this drink the lime is there more for function than flavor, providing a little extra acidity so everything else hangs in balance. Lime’s flavor is excellent, but it’s also a great workhorse of the bar — in other words, perfectly suited for this month’s Mixology Monday. Now head on over to Doug’s place to see what everyone else has been mixing this month.

MxMo LI (that’s 51, not Long Island) – September 20

(Jesus, we’ve done 50 of these things already?)

Hot off the heels of a bang-up August event, which marked the return of Mixology  Monday after a brief summer hiatus, September’s event will bid adieu to the season on September 20.

Hosting this round of MxMo is Doug at Pegu Blog. Perhaps noting that “gin,” “bitters” and “orange” (as in liqueur) have already been used as themes for MxMos past, Doug selected the one remaining ingredient in the drink from which his blog derives its name, and is using that as the theme for September’s event: Lime.

Doug’s preview post is up over here; head on over and check out the details, and have your drink shaken up (and posted) on or before Monday, September 20. Be sure to link back to the Mixology Monday site (don’t forget the MxMo logo!), and to Doug’s blog to show your gratitude for his hosting.

What I Drank on my Summer Vacation, 2010 edition

This week was the start of school here in Seattle, which means that promptly at 9:15 Wednesday morning I hustled my offspring through the doors of their elementary school and — while their new shoes were still squeaking in the hallways and before they’d had a chance to lose a backpack or a lunch box — I was on my way back home to enjoy the first uninterrupted work week (a three-day one, at that) I’ve had since June. So of course, I’m spending part of it blogging.

I guess “of course” isn’t entirely correct, considering how little attention I’ve given this site of late. But while my recent days have been filled more with driving my kids to play dates than with tinkering with cocktail ingredients, it hasn’t been a dry summer. And on the days that passed for sweltering here in the Pacific Northwest, more often than not I’d find my thoughts drifting in the direction of punch.

Part of this desire for tall, frosty glasses of drinks both potent and voluptuous could be due to the impending release of David Wondrich’s new book that covers the topic in depth — a priming of the palate, as it were, in anticipation of the rigorous experimentation the book will no doubt incite — but there’s more to it than that.

Y’see, in case you haven’t noticed in this whole cocktail renaissance that’s been under way for some time, there’s been a great deal of emphasis placed on precision, nuance and the ideal of esoteric ingredients. God knows I’ve done my part to push this whole thing along, but recently — and I’m certainly not alone in this — it’s all begun to seem a bit much. While I can still bore a bystander to tears when chatting with another cocktail geek, I’ve been at the point for a while where I honestly don’t give a shit about all the dogma and detail anymore. For all the heated debate about historical ingredients and the true origins of certain old classics, ultimately these are just drinks we’re talking about — they’re just fucking drinks. By getting too caught up in rigid formulae and absolute rules, we as a generation of drinkers are at risk of missing the most essential point: a drink is made for simple enjoyment, and different drinks please the drinker in different ways. And for me, with the whole sloughing off of rigidity and relaxing with things that simply taste good, few drinks fit the bill better than old-fashioned punches.

When you look at some of the old punch recipes — and here I’m talking about the single-serving punches of the sort that populate the old tomes of mixology, most notably Jerry Thomas’ book — there’s a certain “oh, what the hell” nature to them. Sure, they’re compounds of spirits, juices and other ingredients that all taste good together; but there’s also a carefree aspect to them. The Brandy Punch is a fine thing, but if you’re not in the mood for a cognac-heavy mix redolent of raspberries? No problem — Thomas has got you covered, and you can mix-and-match other ingredients to find a drink that does suit the bill. Punch is also forgiving, and for someone fatigued with the precision required for many high-falutin’ cocktails, this is a good thing; a splash this way or that of syrup or citrus won’t damage the drink, just give it more personality once it’s in the context of all the other ingredients.

Anyway — while this summer I worked my way through various manifestations of Gin Punch, Whiskey Punch and Brandy Punch, it was in the offshoots where I found my happiness; here’s one drink I came to enjoy: West Indian Punch.

The recipe is from Jerry Thomas, though it first came to my attention in Wondrich’s Imbibe! The punch starts with the formula for a Brandy Punch, but has a couple of diversions that attracted my interest. First, the cognac is knocked down from 3 to 2 ounces, and an ounce of rum (I used a buttery Cockspur, from Barbados) is substituted; as a longtime sucker for drinks mixing cognac and rum, I couldn’t resist this version. Additionally, the raspberry syrup that sweetens the Brandy Punch is eliminated; instead, the sugar is bumped up a tad and additional sweetness, and a dose of spice, comes with a scoop of preserved ginger in syrup – and since I’m also a sucker for the bite of ginger, this drink had my name written all over it.

A couple of points on preparation: Wondrich notes that shaking the drink (with the bits of orange and pineapple involved) can result in a mushy mess. Agreed – I followed his suggestion of preparing the drink with crushed ice and then rolling the mix between the halves of a shaker, which keeps the fruit more-or-less intact. Also, for a good delivery of pineapple-ey goodness, I’ve substituted pineapple gomme for the simple syrup when the mood has hit. And since preserved ginger doesn’t have quite the intensity of bite I’d like, I’ve taken to supplementing it with a few slices of fresh ginger, just tossed into the mix (and why do I continue to use the preserved ginger, then, if I find it lacking? Because I bought the whole damn jar and I’ve got to use it somehow). Finally, Thomas calls for two ounces of water in the mix, to soften the drink from sour to punch territory; I add this at the end, in the form of chilled club soda, just because I like bubbles.

Garnished with a few blackberries picked last month and kept whole in the freezer, this is my closing drink of summer.

West Indian Punch
(adapted from Jerry Thomas’ How to Mix Drinks, with suggestions from David Wondrich’s Imbibe!)

  • 2 ounces cognac
  • 1 ounce rum (something with some age to it)
  • Juice of 1/2 a lemon
  • 1/4 – 1/2 ounce simple syrup, to taste
  • Several chunks preserved ginger with a spoonful of syrup
  • A few chunks of pineapple
  • 1 slice of orange, cut in half
  • Chilled club soda

Combine ingredients in a mixing glass, stirring the syrups with the citrus and booze until well mixed. Add about a half-cup of crushed ice and roll between the glass and a mixing tin several times. Pour unstrained into a tall glass; add about 2 ounces chilled club soda and additional ice to fill. Garnish with an orange slice, berries in season, a pineapple stick or whatever the hell you want. Straws, gentlemen.


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