I’m only slightly taken aback by the name (which, as Slakethirst so kindly reminded me when I first posted this writeup, is short for “DElaware, MARyland, VirginiA”). I’m sure there’s some excellent story behind the awkward acronym–or at least a good excuse–but at first take, “Delmarva” sounds like the half-remembered name of your great-aunt in Waco, or something from that old Seinfeld episode about names that semi-rhyme with parts of the female anatomy.

Regardless, this drink–which comes from Gary Regan’s Joy of Mixology, and is derived from a mix Regan credits to Ted “Dr. Cocktail” Haigh (who hails from the Delmarva region–hence the connection–and his original drink is named, of course, the “Delmarva Cocktail”)–is an enjoyable little companion. A close relative of the Twentieth Century, the Delmarva #2 takes a nice base of rye, tempers it slightly with dry vermouth, then tosses in an equal pairing of lemon juice and creme de cacao. As with the Twentieth Century, the taste is surprising, the mix a near-perfect balance that keeps any one ingredient from being dominant, or from being drowned out by the other flavors. And isn’t that what mixing drinks is all about?

Delmarva Cocktail #2

• 2 ounces rye
• 1/2 ounce dry vermouth
• 1/2 ounce lemon juice
• 1/2 ounce white creme de cacao

Shake and strain into a chilled cocktail glass; garnish with a single mint leaf.

[Oh, and that Delmarva #1? Simply substitute white creme de menthe--yes, the color matters--for the creme de cacao. Haven't tried it yet, but curiousity should get the better of me fairly soon.]

Technorati tag: cocktails, whiskey.

Tags: Drinks, Rye by Paul
5 Comments »

It’s over.

The lights are coming down from the windows, the ornaments are going back in their boxes, the tree is destined for the compost heap. From here on out, there’s no gaity to winter–it’s all leafless branches, bitter mornings and sullen gray skies until April. I’ve spent most of my life in drier, colder climates where–instead of Seattle’s incessant drizzle–winter mornings are marked by a crisp, dusty haze, as if the air itself had frozen, ready to shatter into shards should you yell too loud.

To survive the grim patch of calendar that we call ‘January,’ hibernation is in order. But, for those of us who can’t afford the luxury of simply burrowing under the covers until the days grow longer, an adversarial approach to the season is the next best thing. Rather than simply resigning oneself to a monotonous trudge toward springtime, it’s best to come out swinging, kicking January in its icy crotch and throwing elbows at its nose.

And that’s where whisky, no ‘e,’ comes in. Few things shake winter’s grip like this smoky spirit. I once spent a January (and a February, and a March) in Edinburgh, and developed an appreciation for whisky’s inimitable power to smash winter right in its teeth. I’ll never debate the value of a touch of a nice single malt–but for people like me, who just have to start fiddling with things in a glass, there’s a nice, gentle drink that uses whisky as its mainstay, and smoothes and fortifies itself with, basically, more whisky: the Rusty Nail.

The Rusty Nail couldn’t be simpler to make–pour some Scotch over ice, add some Drambuie (a whisky-based liqueur flavored with herbs and sweetened with honey), stir if you like (or don’t, if you like), and follow your instinct for the rest. Recipes vary on proportions, with some calling for equal parts of the two ingredients, ranging down to four parts Scotch to one part liqueur. It’s a good idea to lean toward the dry side–Drambuie is one of the loveliest liqueurs in creation, but too much will clip the whisky’s wings. Oh, and use a blended Scotch for this–put aside your Laphroig and break out that bottle of Chivas or Johnny Walker you got for Christmas. If you’re paying for the bottle yourself and you’re looking for a good, affordable mixing whisky, you could do much, much worse than Famous Grouse.

Whisky, mixed with whisky. January hasn’t got a chance.

Rusty Nail

• 2 ounces blended Scotch
• 1/2 ounce Drambuie

Fill an old fashioned glass 3/4 full of ice; add Scotch, then Drambuie. Stir, if you like. A twist of lemon may be added, but is entirely optional.

Technorati tag: cocktails, Scotch.

Tags: Drinks, Scotch by Paul
4 Comments »

Just when I was wondering what kind of new, unheard-of concoction to mix up for guests on Christmas, Chuck Taggart posts a recipe for this intriguing new cocktail over at the Gumbo Pages.

Réveillon Cocktail

• 2 ounces Laird’s Straight Apple Brandy (substitute Laird’s Applejack or your favorite Calvados).
• 1/2 ounce pear brandy (make sure it’s a clear eau-de-vie, not a liqueur).
• 1/2 ounce pimento dram.
• 1/4 ounce top-shelf sweet vermouth (Carpano Antica Formula or Punt-E-Mes).
• 1 dash aromatic cocktail bitters (Angostura is good, Fee Brothers’ Old Fashion Bitters are better, Abbott’s Bitters — if you can get any — are spectacular).

Combine ingredients with cracked ice in a cocktail shaker. Stir like hell for no less than 30 seconds, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a cinnamon stick.

Intrigued by the mix of flavors, I made one for myself tonight. Since I had no Laird’s bonded on hand, I used Chateau du Breuil Calvados, and mixed it with Clear Creek Distillery’s pear eau-de-vie, homemade pimento dram, Punt Y Mes and a dash of Fee’s Old-Fashioned Aromatic Bitters.

I was expecting a number of different flavors, all creating a layered profile, but with the first sip I was astounded at how well they all worked together. Each of the ingredients has a very assertive character, but in this combination, no one flavor dominates. The rich apple of the brandy and the ethereal presence of the pear eau-de-vie form a solid fruity presence in the glass, seasoned with allspice from the liqueur and the cinnamon from the Fee’s, with the Punt Y Mes undetectible, yet working behind the scenes, as it were, to temper the various flavors around it.

Apples, pears, allspice, cinnamon–the essence of the holiday in a cocktail glass. Chuck says he’s still tinkering with the cocktail, but from my brief encounter with it, I’d say no further work is needed. Maybe somewhere between the eggnog and the flaming Christmas punch (ever the traditionalist), I’ll pull this one out to liven up the afternoon.

* UPDATE: This drink was well-received by my guests on Christmas Day, and Chuck has not only decided to settle on this recipe, but Wes has come up with a fitting name: the Réveillon Cocktail, which, according to Chuck, “evokes Christmas, especially Christmas eve, but also the recent New Orleans spin on the old tradition that expands the feasting of la veille de Noël all season long …”

Well done–

Technorati tag: cocktails.

Tags: Calvados, Drinks, Eau de Vie, Pimento Dram by Paul
6 Comments »

If you were to rank Yuletide peculiarities of otherwise reasonable people on some sort of oddness scale, the seasonal demand for rich, eggy, booze-laden beverages is situated several points below the desire to wear a reindeer sweater adorned with shiny, jingly things, and the genuine conviction that anybody honestly wants a scented candle as a gift. Still, there it is, every year–even before Thanksgiving, the cartons of eggnog are stacking up in the supermarket cooler next to the two-percent, and you know that at some point before New Year, willing or not, you’re going to wind up with a cup of nog in your hand. And, most likely, it’s gonna suck.

But while we own up to the inevitability of eggnog, we should also embrace it. This year, instead of drinking the carageenan-thickened crap they peddle down at Safeway, spiked with a slug of Jim Beam, make an early New Year’s resolution to mix up a batch of your own. Sure, it has raw eggs in it, and cream, and whole milk, and a good dose of booze–but a little hint of danger makes the holiday that much more exciting. Besides, if you’re going to actually consume a cardiologist’s nightmare this season, you might as well get some exercise mixing up the drink yourself–with the heaping scoop of saturated fat each mugful of cheer contains, you need all the help you can get.

Open most any general cookbook or bartending guide and you’ll find an eggnog recipe. This one, from David Wondrich’s Esquire Drinks, is the one I’m thinking about using to upholster my guests on Christmas, unless I have a change of heart and decide to make Tom & Jerrys.

(Jiggle the amount based on your number of guests; this recipe makes–oh, hell, a lot):

Eggnog

• 1 dozen eggs, separated
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 pint cognac
• 1 1/2 pint full-bodied Jamaican rum
• 1 pint milk
• 1/2 pint heavy cream
• grated nutmeg

Separate the eggs; beat the yolks strenuously, slowly adding sugar and continuing until the sugar is completely dissolved. Slowly add the cognac, stirring the entire time. Repeat with the rum–and yes, keep stirring. Add the milk and cream, and keep going with the stirring.

Ready for a break? Too bad–using a clean whisk, beat the whites to stiff peaks. If you don’t cook that often and thus don’t know what this means, keep beating.

Fold the whites into the mixture. then stir in the grated nutmeg. Finally, pour some in a mug and go sit next to the fire. Don’t let the kids get at it, unless you want it to be the story that keeps going around everytime everybody gets together for Christmas.

Bourbon freak? No problem–just swap some bourbon for the rum, or the brandy, or the rum and the brandy, and see what happens.

But if eggnog just isn’t your thing, or if you can’t get past that raw egg bit, consider this concoction, which has even more of a holiday connection than the old nog: the Tom & Jerry.

To be fair, this probably belongs in my Gettin’ Jerry With It category of Jerry Thomas beverages, perhaps more than any other drink (the ‘Jerry’ in the name being Thomas, and the ‘Tom’ being…get it?) On its surface, the Tom & Jerry resembles a hot eggnog, but with the formula tweaked a bit, and it tastes like a much different creature. Ubiquitous at Christmastime for around a century (it faded away sometime during the Eisenhower years), the Tom & Jerry is a very agreeable holiday companion, one with a warm character and a cheerful reputation (there’s an old Damon Runyon story, the name of which I of course can’t recall, about a group of guys spending Christmas in a speakeasy, drinking Tom & Jerry’s with prescription rye–no point in bringing this up, other than to say it’s a great story and the next time I make a batch, I’ll be sure to reach for some bonded Rittenhouse or some Van Winkle Family Reserve). I made these last Christmas for folks to enjoy while opening presents, and they were greeted with polite comments, but not outright enthusiasm. I’ll probably give them a pass this season in favor of eggnog, but there’s always the chance I’ll change my mind on Christmas morning and decide that the best formula for the day involves a mug or three of steaming boozy goodness.

As with the eggnog, the T&J takes a bit of work, but it’s honest labor, and sometimes that’s needed in a drink. Many recipes call for this to be made with hot milk, but that can be kind of heavy; a mixture of hot milk and water may be preferable. Thanks to the New York Times Style Magazine, I understand that Audrey Saunders is serving these at Pegu Club in New York; below is her recipe.

Tom & Jerry

Batter:

• 12 eggs
• 3 tablespoons vanilla extract
• 2 ounces Bacardi 8 rum
• 4 dashes Angostura
• 2 pounds sugar
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
• 3/4 teaspoon ground allspice
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

For the drink:

• whole milk
• Bacardi 8 rum (or use another full-bodied rum, like Appleton Extra)
• Courvoisier or other cognac or decent brandy

To make the batter: separate the eggs. Beat the yolks, then add vanilla, rum, bitters, sugar and spices. In another bowl, beat the whites until stiff. Fold the whites into the mix until it has the consistency of pancake batter. You can refrigerate this–and should, if you’re not using it right away–but use it the same day.

To serve: heat the milk, and boil some water. Stir your batter, then pour 2 ounces of it into a toddy mug. Add 1 ounce rum and 1 ounce cognac. Fill the mug with equal parts hot milk and boiling water. Dust with freshly ground nutmeg.

** As with eggnog, bourbon also works well here, in place of the rum, or the brandy, or the rum and brandy. If Damon Runyon is right, rye should work, too. Report back on your findings.

Technorati tag: cocktails, eggnog, tom and jerry

Tags: Bourbon, Brandy, Drinks, Rum, Rye by Paul
2 Comments »

I’m venturing onto uncertain ground, here. I’m listing a recipe for a drink I’ve never actually tried–not this recipe, and not recently anyway. But given the season, I’ve been meaning to post info on more yuletide beverages. Unfortunately, so many seasonal libations fall into the “add a quart of heavy cream and a dozen eggs” category that there are only so many I can actually try, while still being able to fit through the door the next morning. This year, I’m saving up my heart-bomb drinks for Christmas Day, when I plan to put together an honest-to-god eggnog (I’ll be sure to wash down a Lipitor while I’m at it) for assembled family. But in case you’re looking for a range of options for your holiday party, wassail is an option you might consider.

Google “wassail” and you wind up at some truly devoted sites–while some of these are run by folks simply fond of the fabled bowl, others range into the Gandalf-bearded, broadsword-wielding, spell-casting hale-and-hearty hyper-enthusiasm that somehow takes a lot of the fun out of drinking. Ignore those for now and focus on a true craftsman of the drink: this recipe is from Charles Baker’s The Gentleman’s Companion: An Exotic Drinking Book, from 1939. I present it verbatim:

THE ANCIENT WASSAIL BOWL from an Ancient Elizabethan Formula, Circa 1602, & Truly Notable for Its Exceeding Mildness

In Saxon times this custom of the Wassail Bowl at feast days was an important ceremony, and later it became an accepted custom at Christmas Eve, when minstrels or choirs, or village singers went about singing carols where there was a candle lit in the window.

In the Feudal castles, and manor houses, the Wassail Bowl was borne into the banqueting Hall with songs and carols, and crowned with garlands.

Nutmeg, 1/2 grated; or 2 tsp powdered
Powdered or grated ginger, 1 tsp
Cloves, 6 whole
Cinnamon, 1 inch of stick
Sugar, 1 cup
Eggs, yolks 6; whites 3
Apples, 6 cored, but not pared
Mace, 1/4 tsp
Water
Sherry or Madeira, 2 qts

Take spices and cover with a cup of cold water. Fetch to a boil; adding wine and sugar. Let heat up . . . Meanwhile in the Wassail Bowl (Punchbowl) previously warmed:

Break in six yolks and three whites. Beat up. When wine is warm–not boiling–mix a teacupful with the egg. When a little warmer, add another cupful, and repeat until five cups have been used . . . Now let the rest of the wine boil up well, and pour it into the bowl also, stirring well all the time, until it froths in attractive fashion . . . Fill cored apples with sugar, sprinkle on a little of the spice and roast until nearly done. Time these to suit the end of the wine-pouring process. Throw them into the bowl, and serve the whole thing very hot . . . Some stout hearts add a tumbler full of good cognac brandy to the whole–and we, after testing the business, heartily agree with them; since sherry of itself isn’t potent enough to make any Saxon defend his native land, much less a 20th Century wassailer, with all we have been through during the one and a half decades that Saxons never even considered as drinkable fluid!

Technorati tag: cocktails, wassail

Tags: Drinks by Paul
No Comments »