Entries Tagged as 'Absinthe'

MxMo Limit One: Tears of Joy?

Mixology MondayTonight’s drink comes with a tip of the hat to Rick at Kaiser Penguin, who is hosting this month’s Mixology Monday with the theme, Limit: One. Thanks to this theme, Rick has created an event that is guaranteed to be followed by “Hangover Tuesday.”

When in the need of a cocktail that comes in heavy, you have two options that are pretty safe, if such a word can be used in this situation: go with the rum-soaked goodness of tiki; or, reach for the green stuff*. Me, I’m fond of both, but considering our host and the eager participation of Blair and Craig, I was sure tiki would be well represented for this round. Just to be a contrarian, I’m reaching for the absinthe tonight.

Before you take a glimpse at the recipe and gag in disbelief, hear me out: this drink actually kind of works. Sweet? Oh, yeah — part of the reason you’d only want one — but the redeeming factors in the Weeper’s Joy far outweigh, in my mind, this detraction.

Weeper's Joy

Consider this: between the absinthe, the vermouth and the kummel, you’ve got, what, a few dozen botanicals in the drink. So is it really that different from something like a Widow’s Kiss (which it resembles somewhat in terms of flavor intensity and its presentation of the taste of antiquity) or — okay, I’ll write the name one more time — the Flower Power Martini? And as for the horsepower: I’m not doing the math to see if this fits under the “3 oz. of 80-proof or higher booze” requirement Rick laid out, but anything with an ounce of absinthe in it comes on like a bucket full of knuckles.

This drink — originated by “The Only William” Schmidt and recently dusted off in IMBIBE! — is yet one more reason why David Wondrich is expected to take the top prize at the upcoming National Soused Book Award. Okay, I just made that up, but wouldn’t it be great if there was such a thing?

Weeper’s Joy, using Wondrich’s updated measurements from IMBIBE!

  • 1 ounce absinthe
  • 1 ounce vino vermouth [I used Carpano Antica, to toss a little extra bitterness in the mix]
  • 1 ounce Kummel
  • 1/2 teaspoon simple syrup
  • 2 dashes curacao

Stir well with lots of ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

As Wondrich notes, you can leave out the simple syrup to cut back on the sweetness, but it does bring a fuller mouthfeel to the drink.

KummThis Mixology Monday is brought to you by Gilka Kummel, the official spirit of Kaiser Penguin. Be sure to head over to Rick’s place to see how everyone else weighed in this round.

* OK, so I used a blanche absinthe instead of a verte. Poetic license and all; deal with it.

…for forgiveness of all imminent and future sins of the flesh

I’ve found myself falling into a cocktail rut lately — and it’s not just a defensive posture from drinking so much apricot brandy. Relatively minor, as these things go, but it’s been a bit more of a challenge to come up with an idea of what I’d like to have. So, in pursuit of recipes that I’m quite sure I’ve never tried, I turned to quite possibly my most beloved mixology-related book: Charles Baker’s The Gentleman’s Companion.

Baker has no shortage of recipes that have never appeared elsewhere, sometimes with good reason: while the man spun a fine yarn about most anything poured into a glass, some of the mixes are slightly off, and others just downright weird. Here’s one of the latter, but for this one I don’t mean “weird” in an entirely disapproving light.

First, the setup: “Watch this one when out under the moon in a desert overnight camp, riding camels out across the vast dunes, or strolling in the moonlight around the Sphinx with some congenial young woman companion.”

The Sahara Glowing Heart Cocktail
from the Hands of one Abdullah an Arab Muslim Wizard back of Mahogany at the Mena House Bar, near the Pyramids of Ghizeh, which Are Just South of Cairo, Egypt

“Take of dry gin, 1 pony [1 ounce], absinthe, 1 pony, dry imported apricot brandy, 1 pony; donate 1/2 pony of bright rose coloured grenadine. Shake with lots and lots of ice and strain into a large saucer champagne glass, and pray Allah for forgiveness of all imminent and future sins of the flesh…

Sahara Glowing HeartI’d be dishonest if I said Baker’s commentary wasn’t the primary driving force behind my effort at whipping up one of these, but I’m also trying assorted obscure absinthe cocktails (for reasons that will soon become evident), and this one seemed suitably obscure to include in the project.

Of the result, Baker writes: “To us this drink tastes a bit sweet [BINGO! –ed.]; also a bit dominated by absinthe or Pernod Veritas [ya think?!? –ed.]. So why not experiment to taste along these lines? … Ignore the grenadine, step up the gin to a jigger, whittle the absinthe to a dash or two inside the empty glass before pouring the chilled drink.”

Upon the first sip, I thought, “That’s one of the weirdest things I’ve ever had,” and to be honest, I’m still thinking that as I finish the drink. But, this ain’t bad — while sweet, as Baker says, there’s also a really engaging interplay between the apricot eau de vie and the absinthe. I’ll try Baker’s suggested variation at some point, but for now, I disagree on removing the grenadine entirely: the drink benefits from the additional fruitiness it brings to the table, but at 1/2 an ounce, it does make the cocktail startlingly sweet.

As Baker’s cocktails go, the Sahara Glowing Heart has the appropriate level of screwball distinctiveness to it, but it’s also not a bad basis from which to start playing with variations. Now if I can just arrange for some of that forgiveness…

Absinthe Cocktail

While others may have already broken out their Tom & Jerry bowls and eggnog mugs in preparation for the holidays — assuming they change their drinking habits at all this time of year — I’m still relishing a few drinks I picked up this autumn while reading IMBIBE!

Of the many drinks I’ve now tried from Mr. Wondrich’s new book, the absinthe cocktail is undoubtedly one of my very favorites. Of course, it helps that I love absinthe, not to mention the messing about with dashes from assorted bottles and the rat-tat-tat of ice in the shaker, but really, this is a fine little potion. Not too different from an absinthe frappe, the absinthe cocktail salts up a few of the spirit’s distinctive notes with bitters and a little anisette, leavens it with water and chills it in the shaker.

Absinthe CocktailPretty much an absinthe drip after a trip to the beauty parlor, the absinthe cocktail can’t, and shouldn’t, replace the purity and simplicity of a glass of absinthe that’s been lovingly louched, but it’s a nice little variation on the theme. And, considering that genuine absinthe is becoming cheaper and more available in the U.S., you don’t have to feel like you’re squandering your hard-earned contraband when you toss an ounce or two into your shaker.

Absinthe Cocktail adapted from IMBIBE!, by David Wondrich

  • 1 ounce absinthe
  • 2 dashes anisette
  • 1 dash angostura bitters [I prefer 2 dashes of Peychaud’s instead]
  • 2 ounces water [if using a lower-proof absinthe such as Kubler or Francois Guy, drop this to 1 1/2 or even just 1 ounce]
  • [not in Wondrich’s recipe, but in mine: a dash or two of simple syrup]

Shake well with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

The Angostura makes for an interesting drink, but Peychaud’s just works better with absinthe, in my opinion — plus, it gives the drink an alluring, bubblegum-pink color that will likely lead to an order that’s guaranteed to shock the hell out of some inexperienced Cosmo drinker should these things ever appear in bars. I also like to use club soda for at least some of the water — and yes, this makes shaking the cocktail without breaking the seal on the Boston shaker challenging — just to give it a little effervescent pizzazz. Anisette may seem redundant, given the anise flavor of true absinthe (as opposed to the lime-green, wormwood-spiked crapulescent forgeries that are out there), but it spikes up the points of the drink in a very pleasing way (if you’re using Lucid, the anise could well use some spiking). And do pay attention to the water: if mixing with something higher octane like Marteau, you’ll want the full measure, but Francois Guy is about the same potency as most whiskies and gins on the market, so 2 ounces of water would just wash out the flavor.

With any luck, by this time next year there’ll be another half-dozen or more brands of absinthe available in the U.S., and I’ll really be able to go to town on mixing up these suckers.

MxMo XXI: Drop Dead

Mixology MondayLike any self-respecting cocktail fanatic, I’ve been dipping at the well of IMBIBE! for the past few weeks, trying out different drinks and occasionally latching onto one for a few torrid nights (hello there, Prince of Wales cocktail; good to see you again, Absinthe Cocktail; good evening, Sherry Cobbler, I’m sorry I haven’t called in so long).

This drink isn’t in the book.

Not completely, anyway. Certainly, there’s a close relative — an ancestor, I suppose — traveling under the name of the Fourth Degree. Simply a dry martini that’s been dosed with a dash of absinthe, the Fourth Degree is a very pleasant drink. At this level, the absinthe lends a flush of anise-tinted herbaceousness to the drink’s aroma and flavor, and it’s just enough to give the cocktail a cruel sneer and nothing more.

The Obituary Cocktail, however, takes this formula and turns up the volume — no longer playing a minor role, the absinthe shoulders its way forward, putting on the sap gloves and taking a firm grip on your collar. The absinthe still gives the gin and vermouth plenty of room to move around, and rightly recognizes that its flavor much benefits from doing so, but even though there’s four times as much gin in the glass as absinthe, the absinthe is the big gorilla in the room.

I don’t know when or where the step from Fourth Degree to Obituary Cocktail occurred. Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop in New Orleans claims to be the drink’s home, but the last time I had one of these at Lafitte’s it was made with Herbsaint (or Pernod — too damn dark in there to see what they were using), and was tepid and too sweet.

Herbsaint is useful in small doses as an absinthe substitute, but for drinks that require more than a couple of dashes of the stuff, Herbsaint (and other substitutes) can’t summon the seductively menacing glower that absinthe brings to a cocktail. While the absinthe substitutes are useful and even necessary for the bar, drinking a cocktail made with a substitute is like playing poker with your grandpa — it’s all good fun, but for a really lively game you need a competitor who’ll take a poke at you on occasion. With Lucid and Kubler now on the market in the U.S., and available by online order in most states, domestic drinkers should really make it a priority to lay in a bottle or two, for use in such concoctions. (Though be warned: in Canada and much of Europe, what’s sold as “absinth” or “absinthe” is frequently a nasty impostor. What you want is a decent French or Swiss brand; check the ratings and recommendations at the Wormwood Society and/or Fee Verte for suggestions).

I should note, of course, that “Obituary Cocktail” is also the name of a book by New Orleans photographer Kerri McCaffety, which surveys some of the city’s historic bars. I’m ashamed to say I don’t have a copy of this book (*cough* Christmas present *cough*), but from having seen it at Tales of the Cocktail, it looks absolutely gorgeous.

One last selling point about the Obituary Cocktail: should you decide to wrap up an evening in the company of these, you may be able to legitimately claim the need for Corpse Revivers the following day.

Obituary Cocktail

  • 2 ounces gin (I’ll take Plymouth in mine)
  • 1/4 ounce dry vermouth
  • 1/4 ounce absinthe (or a substitute such as Herbsaint, if you must)

Stir well with cracked ice; strain into chilled cocktail glass. The drink’s light opalescence is its own garnish.

This round of Mixology Monday is hosted by Jay at Oh, Gosh! Step on over to Jay’s place in the next day or so to see how it all went.

Second Round

Nearly six months after Lucid’s debut, the mainstream media is still slowly cluing in to the fact that absinthe is legally available in the U.S.; now, if they’d stop trotting out the tired Belle Epoque exaggerated stories and quit relying on interns to put together the bullet points that invariably read “ABSINTHE WILL MAKE YOU CRAZY!,” we’d be making real progress.

But while Lucid continues to attract attention, last week another absinthe debuted in the U.S., to much less fanfare. That’s too bad — because the absinthe’s pretty good.

Kubler is a Swiss absinthe, commercially produced in Val-de-Travers ever since Switzerland lifted the ban on absinthe in 2001. Unlike Lucid, Kubler is a blanche — meaning it is clear in color, and has a somewhat more subdued, mellow flavor — though also unlike Lucid, Kubler has a bit more of a forward anise note. It’s also lighter in alcohol content — though when you’re talking about something that’s 106 proof, “lighter” is a relative concept. Finally, like Lucid, Kubler is available for online purchase; DrinkUpNY currently has a deal for $51.99 for a liter of Kubler, with free shipping (compare that to $62.99 for a 750ml of Lucid).

I just louched my first glass of the Kubler, and I’m enjoying what I’m tasting. Sure, it’s not as complex or robust as some absinthes, but it’s a very pleasant drink — light in flavor without being shy, and with a nice, creamy mouthfeel. Not bad for a second round — I can’t wait to see what comes next.

Kubler absinthe

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