Entries Tagged as 'Absinthe'

MxMo 19th Century: Gettin’ Vermouthy

They don’t make tastebuds like they used to.

Thanks to Dinah over at Bibulo.us, who’s hosting this month’s round of Mixology Monday, I’ve been taking a sentimental stroll through some of the older — and newer (thanks to Mud Puddle Books) — cocktail manuals on my bookshelf, in search of the appropriate 19th century cocktail. And what I’m remembering is what has long delighted me about some of these older recipes: while many of them have relatively simple preparations (oftentimes a drink being little more than a base ingredient gussied up with the bibulous equivalent of a little powder and perfume), the flavors are sometimes spectacularly baroque, created with richly flavored spirits and elaborately crafted herbal liqueurs and aromatized wines.

That brings me back to two of my most favorite ingredients (and the punks at Mixoloseum can just stifle the chortling — yes, I’m going back to these topics again): absinthe and vermouth.

Both of these ingredients debuted in the U.S. in the mid-19th century, and both were welcomed to the mixological arena soon thereafter with a great degree of enthusiasm. Slightly bitter and richly floral, vermouth — we’re talkin’ Italian, or vino, vermouth here, which entered wide use several years before the French, or dry style — performed a mystical whazoo over many cocktails of the era, broadening and lending greater depth to flavors while letting primary spirits remain in the spotlight. And absinthe, with its tantalizing perfume of anise, fennel and mint, brought a gauzy dose of the ethereal to otherwise modest cocktails.

As cocktail ingredients, vermouth is today typically used in small amounts, and absinthe in quantities even smaller, but our ancestors — with their preference for engaging and even gaudy flavors — measured them out with much more gusto. In the 1870s, absinthe and vermouth were both in heavy use, and each had its namesake cocktail: the absinthe cocktail, with the potent spirit touched with bitters, sugar and sometimes anisette; and the vermouth cocktail, with vino vermouth brushed up with sugar, bitters and maraschino. While I’ve written about the absinthe cocktail before, the vermouth cocktail is another recent favorite — use a good vermouth like Carpano Antica Formula, and be sure not to dilute it too much, and it’s actually a pretty lively old girl. Similar recipes are in books ranging from Kappeler’s Modern American Drinks to Harry Johnson’s Bartender’s Manual to, of course, Jerry Thomas (the 1887 version).

Vermouth Cocktail

  • 2 ounces sweet vermouth (Carpano Antica or Vya if at all possible)
  • 2 dashes maraschino
  • 2 dashes Angostura bitters
  • 1-2 dashes simple syrup (optional, to taste)

Stir with ice, taking care not to overdilute, and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Hit it with a lemon twist, and garnish with a cherry, if desired.

To my taste, some of the best uses of these ingredients are when they appear together — though such combinations raised warnings early on. In 1886, the Brooklyn Daily Eagle noted, “Vermouth and absinthe are becoming more popular daily, but are dangerous drinks. Many use vermouth with a few drops of absinthe as a nervine, but the treatment, if persisted in, can only result in one way — loss of mental power and extreme nervousness.”

I’m already the nervous type, so I won’t worry too much about combining absinthe and vermouth. As I mentioned recently, while absinthe and vermouth were the St. Germain of their day, showing up in pretty much everything, “The Only William” Schmidt had a particular fondness for mixing the two together (Schmidt even tossed a dash of absinthe into his recipe for the Vermouth Cocktail). I’ve covered the Weeper’s Joy and the Anticipation, both examples of the absinthe / vermouth combo; here are two others that caught my eye, from Schmidt’s 1891 book: the Frappé à la Guillaume, and the Appetizer à l’Italienne.

Frappé à la Guillaume

  • 1 ounce absinthe
  • 2 dashes simple syrup
  • 1/2 ounce sweet vermouth
  • 2 dashes anisette

Fill glass with crushed ice and frappe until very cold & frost forms out outside of glass. Serve with a straw.

Essentially a typical absinthe frappe with sweet vermouth added, this is absolutely lovely — really, this tastes like the 19th century: deeply elegant, floral and (I’ll say it again) baroque, with the crisp edge of anise brushed into a rich lushness from the vermouth. I used Kubler, because it’s not bad and I had plenty of it on hand; for this, as with any classic drink that calls for absinthe, you’ll need a classic anise-forward spirit; other absinthe-type spirits that don’t have that anise character just aren’t suitable in any cocktail that predates the Internet. As with many other drinks that prominently feature vermouth, I used Carpano Antica Formula, because it just kicks ass. Vya may work as well, and even Cinzano, Noilly Prat sweet or Martini & Rossi would be suitable, but they don’t quite have the gumption of the Carpano or the Vya. Word is that Dolin should start appearing soon; I’ll reserve judgement on that until I’ve had a chance to try it.

But, anyway, the Frappe a la Guillaume: I call it the Frappe a la All Mine. I’m busting this one out again sometime.

Appetizer à l’Italienne

  • 2 ounces sweet vermouth
  • 1 ounce Fernet Branca
  • 1 dash absinthe
  • 2 dashes simple syrup

Stir well with ice, strain into chilled cocktail glass.

I took my first sip of this while still in the kitchen, next to the sink — to be perfectly honest, I expected to hate this. Fernet Branca, while a lovely thing on its own, is a surly prick in the mixing glass. It’s usually dispensed in small amounts as with many other bitter ingredients, but in this role it just works. With a base of sweet vermouth, it’s as though the Fernet doesn’t feel the need to compete: it can spread out in all its eucalyptus-tinged glory, without bumping into another alpha-dog ingredient. The absinthe is in no way prominent — I mean, with an ounce of Fernet Branca in there, how could it be? — but it lends that indecipherable seasoning quality, making the drink much richer and fuller than it would be without it. If you’ve got a bottle of Fernet kicking around and you’re trying to figure out what to do with it, here’s a good choice.

Anyway, that’s it for MxMo 19th century; head on over to Dinah‘s to see what else is up.

Anticipation

While I was working up my presentation for the “Cocktails With a Kick: Absinthe Returns to America” session at Tales of the Cocktail, I embarked on an extended search through old bar guides in search of attractive — and repulsive — cocktails of yore that featured the old savage green stuff. Starting sometime in the 1870s or thereabouts, absinthe started cropping up in a number of different cocktails, ranging from simple preparations such as the Absinthe Frappe or Absinthe Cocktail, to its use as a seasoning ingredient in innumerable drinks such as our old friend the Sazerac.

All was to be expected until I started digging deeper into the drinks of William Schmidt. (This photo-of-a-photo of Schmidt was taken at the Museum of the American Cocktail, and was kindly provided by Dinah Sanders.) A famed bartender close to Jerry Thomas’ era, “The Only William” penned a number of distinctive drink recipes that called for absinthe in The Flowing Bowl: When and What to Drink, first published in 1891 (you can purchase a 2007 reprint version here). As I worked through the recipes, I noticed a pattern: many of the drinks followed a similar structure, pairing absinthe with “vino vermouth,” or Italian vermouth in assorted proportions, then completing the recipe with Ingredient X (with the occasional modifier of sugar or bitters added). This ingredient could be just about anything: Calisaya bitters, Fernet Branca, Old Tom gin, creme de roses, green Chartreuse, kummel — you name it, pretty much. Some versions, such as the kummel-laden Weeper’s Joy, are pretty damn tasty; others, such as The Mayor, which includes kummel, cream and a whole egg, seem much weirder.

Here’s one that works. For the last year or so, I’ve been a sucker for sherry in cocktails, and one of my favorite warm-weather drinks this summer has been the Sherry Cobbler (which I’ve somehow neglected to blog about, along with about 6,870 other things). The Anticipation matches sherry with vino vermouth, then incorporates absinthe in just a dash, with a little sugar to make it all appealing.

For my version, I used Carpano Antica Formula vermouth, which has a strong flavor particularly well-suited to cocktails that need a robust vermouthy zoom and a gentle bitterness. I also used Hidalgo Amontillado for the sherry, thinking that its dry, delicate richness would pair well with the vermouth; I’m willing to wager a nice Oloroso would also work wonderfully, whereas a Manzanilla or Fino could give the drink a nice crispness. Plenty of room to explore.

And explore I will: I really enjoyed the Anticipation; the nuttiness of the sherry nestled right into the sweet/bitter balance of the vermouth, and the absinthe served as seasoning: lending the aroma a gentle anise note, and functioning on the palate as a flavor enhancer without taking over the drink. Flavorful, aromatic and resolutely old school, the Anticipation also clocks in a bit lower on the alcohol scale — an oddity in the absinthe cocktail world, but a welcome diversion for times when you’re looking for a gentle nip, or for those late evenings when you’re not ready to leave the bar but don’t need another wallop of alcohol.

Anticipation

  • 1 1/2 ounces sherry
  • 1 1/2 ounces sweet vermouth
  • 2 dashes simple syrup
  • 1 dash absinthe

Stir well with ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

A little touch of green

Two years ago, I attended Tales of the Cocktail and was delighted to sit in on a session that, due to its subject matter–absinthe–carried a touch of danger and intrigue.

Last year, I attended Tales of the Cocktail and, in addition to a reprise of the absinthe session, I was served a drink or two made with Lucid, at that time the only legal absinthe on the market. I also attended an absinthe dinner at a restaurant where we were seated in a private dining room, shielded from the view of other diners partially because we had our own setup of fountain and absinthes, all of which were still on the prohibited list.

This year, absinthe is everywhere; the flood I’d anticipated last fall while writing a feature on the spirit for Imbibe (it’s here, as a PDF) has come even larger than I’d expected. In the months to come we’ll see some of the most spectacular absinthes I’ve ever tried come onto the US market, along with, it should be said, massive amounts of crap.

To help you wade through this steaming pile to find the pony on the other side, on Friday, July 18, I’ll be co-moderating a session at this year’s Tales of the Cocktail titled “Cocktails with a Kick: Absinthe Returns to America.” Joining me as co-moderator will be my good friend Gwydion Stone, founder of the Wormwood Society and producer of Marteau; and the uber-talented Jim Meehan, bar manager at PDT in New York.

With Gwydion picking up the story of absinthe and Jim talking about the ways he and his colleagues are mixing it today, I’ve got a big job ahead of me. Fortunately, I love absinthe, and I love absinthe cocktails, so it’s been a pleasure to dig into the vintage bar books in my collection to find the most interesting and most unusual cocktails in creation. It’s also been fascinating for me to dig through old books and news archives to find references to absinthe, both the ways bartenders were serving it, and the ways it was portrayed in stories and tracts.

I won’t go into detail here — that’s what the presentation is for, after all — but if you’re in New Orleans for Tales, be sure to join us at the Hotel Monteleone on Friday, July 18, at 12:30pm for “Cocktails With a Kick”. Plus, we’re serving lots of good booze, so that should be extra encouragement; you can buy tickets here, and I hope to see you there.

hentai teacher rapes student – anime monster rape hentai. you tube rape video incest rape videos. rape movie scenes free fantasy rape movies. free incest videos downloads: brother sister incest videos.

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…

  • Liquor.com - Your expert guide to all things cocktails and spirits.
  • Archives

  • Subscribe via e-mail

    Enter your Email


    Preview | Powered by FeedBlitz
  • Categories

  • Support