Entries Tagged as 'Drinks'

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.

The Emerald Bijou?

I really try to ignore St. Patrick’s Day. It’s a time when the fair-weather drinkers like to lay into the stuff, making bars about the last place I want to be. And as someone who’s let this particular interest slip among colleagues and casual acquaintances, it’s the time of year when I invariably get asked how to make an Irish car bomb, or what’s my favorite green drink. It’s almost enough to make you go on the wagon (fortunately, there’s Rick’s booze-whopper “Limit: One” Mixology Monday coming up, so I’ll be spared that particular inconvenience).

But hey, here it comes, and while preparing for my Serious Eats post earlier this evening I was digging through books looking for the earliest recipe for the Emerald I could find — this version, that is, not one of the handful of other drinks that have gone under that name — when I came across one such Emerald variation in Trader Vic’s Bartender’s Guide that seemed worth a shot.

And no wonder — after a closer look at the recipe, I had one of those “hey, wait a minute–” moments, and realized this is simply a Bijou wearing a different hat. (And I know this very same drink pops up again with a different name somewhere — no, I’m not thinking of the Tailspin, that’s got a dash of Campari in place of the orange bitters — so if anybody has better recall than I do, please chime in with a comment.)

But what the hell — Emerald, Bijou, whatever, it’s a nice drink. If you need something that sounds kind of Irish on the big day, but want to avoid the typical crap, keep the Emerald name on the drink and go for it.

Emerald / Bijou / ????

  • 1 ounce gin
  • 1 ounce sweet vermouth
  • 1 ounce green Chartreuse
  • 2 dashes orange bitters

Stir well with ice; strain into chilled cocktail glass.

…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…

The Great Apricot Smackdown

Okay, I have to stop now.

Call me a failure if you must, but I wasn’t able to power through every single one of the approximately 30 apricot-brandy cocktails that were submitted for the latest round of Raiders of the Lost Cocktail. I’m sorry — but the smell of apricots is coming out of my pores and my skin is turning orange; I may never be able to eat another piece of rugelach as long as I live. But before you come down too hard on me, keep in mind this twist on that ol’ biblical instruction: Let he who has methodically sampled more than 20 apricot-brandy cocktails without growing very sick of apricots cast the first stone.

Fortunately, I made it through most of the recipes (submitted here and here); since many people submitted more than one drink, I made sure to try at least one cocktail from each participant, so nobody’d be left out.

From this mix, there were a lot of winners. Before I give my top pick, here are a few observations:

  1. Apricot brandy and pineapple — who knew the combination could be so tasty? If you see these two flavors together in a recipe, go for it.
  2. Apricot brandy and pastis or absinthe — proceed with caution. I won’t say they’re mutually incompatible, but you need a very patient palate to handle this mixture.
  3. If a recipe contains apricot brandy, grenadine, and at least one and possibly two or more additional liqueurs, you’re likely to collapse in a diabetic coma before you finish the drink.
  4. If a drink calls for apricot brandy as a base, or in quantities of one ounce or greater, see point #3.
  5. Rum and apricot brandy kicks ass — check out the Periodista, the Jamaica Farewell and the Honi Honi for proof.
  6. There is a need in this world for more cocktails that use Pimm’s No. 1 as an ingredient, such as the Stardust. When matched against apricot brandy and with some gin and sweet vermouth along for the ride, the Pimm’s makes a mighty fine drink.
  7. I really wanted to like the Pisco-Apricot Tropical, from Charles Baker’s The South American Gentleman’s Companion. Fortunately, I’m accustomed to disappointment, so the fact that the drink didn’t work out wasn’t too much of a shock.
  8. Apricot brandy takes on strange and intriguing new characteristics when you use it in small doses against something herbal.

On this last note, I announce my choice for top drink of this round of Raiders of the Lost Cocktail: the Claridge.

Hailing from the Savoy Cocktail Book and suggested by two participants — Charlie Oat from the Connecticut School of Bartending, and Jay from Oh, Gosh! — the Claridge was a real eye-opener. It seemed promising enough, sure, but for some reason the apricot brandy, smoothed out and complemented by the Cointreau, really comes into its own in what otherwise would be a Fitty-Fitty martini. The liqueurs weigh in as more than mere flavor accents, but a big dose of botanicals from the gin and vermouth takes the flavor to another, very delicate plane. A lovely drink that I’m happy to have discovered through this little exercise; my hat is off to the two participants.

Claridge*

  • 1 1/2 ounces gin
  • 1 1/2 ounces dry vermouth
  • 1/2 ounce Cointreau
  • 1/2 ounce apricot brandy

Stir well with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass.

* If you dig through the comments section in which the drinks were posted, you’ll see that Charlie used the Savoy measurements — 1 1/2 ounces each gin and vermouth, 3/4 ounce of each of the liqueurs — while Jay brought the liqueurs down a notch to 1/2 ounce each. I’m not sure why the change was made, but having tried the drink both ways, I liked the drier version printed above. Don’t take my word for it — try for yourself.

By long tradition — since last fall, anyway — the winner of this round hosts the next, and chooses the ingredient. Now that there are two winners, however, I’m not sure how to proceed. Jay has a blog while Charlie doesn’t (to my knowledge), so that seems to lend in favor of Jay hosting; perhaps the two gentlemen could agree on the next ingredient?

Anyway, that wraps up this long round of Raiders of the Lost Cocktail. I’m off to not think about apricots for a while.

You want “Lost”? I’ll give ya “lost”–

Now that the comments sections are filling up both at The Spirit World and here for Raiders of the Lost Cocktail, perhaps its time I put my own drink on the line.

To recap: this month we’re mixing with apricot brandy, digging out some old (and new) recipes that call for this liqueur, and highlighting what this ingredient brings to mixology.

This event has also served to demonstrate one additional fact: my fellow cocktail bloggers are trying to kill me. Evidence: my claim in the original post that, in the weekend following the February 15 deadline, I would try each of the submitted drinks and then choose the champion. As of right now, there are somewhere around 30 cocktails that have been submitted — thanks a hell of a lot to those who started packing two or three drinks into their posts. Now, I’ve gotta break out my four different types of apricot brandy — I know, it’s a sickness — along with my emergency backup liver, and start mixing my way through Periodistas, Claridges, Millionaires and the like. Thank god it’s a three-day weekend.

Anyway, no reason I shouldn’t start myself off with something fun. As I’ve mentioned before, some of the most interesting drinks to be found in David Wondrich’s book, IMBIBE!, have to be dug out of the explanatory text that follows many of the drink recipes. Wondrich will start with one drink, then toss in a half-dozen variations and descendants in this text, with brief instructions on how to approach them; if you’ve been skipping over that part, go back and start rooting around — there are some real gems to be found.

Here’s one that’s good not just because of the way it comes out, but because it really tastes like a different era: the Blackthorn Sour. This follows in the instructions to the “Brandy, Gin, Santa Cruz or Whiskey Sour,” a broad category if ever there was one. As the sour soared in popularity, Wondrich writes:

…where before there had been only the basic versions, named after the spirits that animated them, suddenly the bars are festooned with signs for Blackthorn Sours (with sloe gin, pineapple syrup and a splash of apricot liqueur), Sours a la Creole (brandy and Jamaica rum with lime juice and “a little ice cream on top”), Dizzy Sours (rye with a dash of Benedictine and a Jamaica rum float), Jack Frost Whiskey Sours (apple “whiskey” — i.e., applejack — with an egg and cream) and the like.

But first, I have to own up to something: I can’t mix the drink properly, not right now, anyway. The instructions call for sloe gin, and — with Plymouth not entering the states for another couple of months — I’m reluctant to buy a bottle of crap just to try this drink. So instead, I’m using some homemade damson gin that I put up last fall. It came out very nice, rich and flavorful, and while sweeter and not as vibrant as a good sloe gin, it’s still pretty damn good, and can fill in until the good stuff comes in.

I’ve also made one more adjustment: I’ve tried this with a homemade pineapple syrup, and combined with the sweetness of the damson gin (which I made using half the sugar called for in the recipe), it’s a bit too cloying, even with the lemon juice amped up. Instead I’m relying on the damson gin and a couple of teaspoons of apricot brandy to sweeten the drink, and I’m putting a few cubes of fresh (okay, frozen and defrosted) pineapple into the shaker.

Wondrich doesn’t codify the recipe, so here’s how I’m going about it:

Blackthorn Sour (close to it, anyway)

  • 2 ounces damson gin
  • 1 ounce fresh lemon juice
  • 2 teaspoons apricot brandy
  • 3-4 chunks pineapple

Shake really hard with ice and double-strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Apricot and pineapple have a mighty kind of alchemy between them, and the fruitiness of the damson gin is a big, soft cushion for the flavors to roll around in. This is a very plush drink, still on the sweet side but not terribly so. I have a ton of plums in my freezer that I was saving with the idea of playing around with different damson gin recipes at some point; next time around, I’ll go with a sugar-free version that may be more suitable for mixing. But still, this is nothing to scoff at.

And that’s it for Raiders of the Lost Cocktail, round 3. Now to work my way through the recipes. Let’s see, maybe a Normandy next…

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