Over the past few years at Imbibe, I’ve had the chance to write about the cocktail situation in Las Vegas and San Francisco, Los Angeles and Vancouver. But it wasn’t until the current issue (which appeared in mailboxes last month — hey, I’ve been busy) that I finally had the opportunity, or the excuse, to officially roll through many of the craft-cocktail bars in my own hometown of Seattle. (The November/December issue is still available on the shelf, or if you need to read the Seattle piece RIGHT NOW, here’s a link to a PDF copy – but really, get the magazine).

One of the drawbacks of these kinds of stories is that I never have enough space to fully recognize some of the more noteworthy bars and the talented bartenders that I come across. In the print version of the story, I included recipes from Erik Hakkinen at Zig Zag Café, Eric Carlson at Moshi Moshi, and Jay Kuehner at Sambar, but these are only a few of the bartenders who have made Seattle into the city it is today: a soggy, Ramazzotti-soaked destination for the cocktail enthusiast and/or the discerning inebriate.

But whaddaya know — I have a blog, a little rusty from recent disuse but as far as I can tell, still functional (knock wood). So over the next week or so — emphasis on the “or so” — I’m going to run a few notes and recipes from bars and bartenders I may have mentioned in the article, but didn’t have a chance to fully recognize.

First on this mini-tour of Seattle bars is a place that I first visited not long after I moved to Seattle in 1998: Vito’s, on First Hill. Vito’s has been around since the 1950s, and the décor seems to hardly have changed since its debut (don’t believe me? Check out the Cougar Room in the back). In the late ‘90s, Vito’s was a fun if slightly down-at-heel kind of place to spend a Saturday night; more recently, the bar had a run of bad luck, and the memories it inspired started trending to the “I almost got shot there” variety.

But last year, new owners started cleaning the place up, keeping the non-ironic retro furniture and the edge-of-downtown aura to the place, but spiffing up the menu and the music and just generally getting Vito’s vibe and clientele back into more-or-less respectable territory. Even better — at least from a cocktail-geek’s perspective — the bar’s booze selection was seriously rethought. Sure, you can still get a can of Oly and a shot of well whiskey at the bar, but Vito’s is reflecting its Italian influence with more than just the eggplant parm; bottles of Italian aperitifs, spirits and liqueurs such as Zucca Rubarbaro, Strega and Barolo Chinato now populate the back bar, and the bar menu has a serious drink-geek’s touch, with cocktails such as the Waldorf & Statler, made with gin, falernum and Fernet Branca; the Akimbo, a rye, Campari and Barolo Chinato drink not on the current menu but worthy of a return engagement; and the Tom Handy, a Sazerac interpretation made with Rittenhouse rye and Remy VSOP, spiced with The Bitter Truth Creole Bitters. The drinks take an East Coast, spirit-forward approach, and this winter Vito’s is even serving Smith & Cross-fuelled Tom & Jerrys, the first regular appearance of these I’ve seen in a Seattle bar.

Still, Vito’s is not immune from misfortune, as is demonstrated by my Imbibe story:  while I recognized bartenders Jared Scarr and Nabil Sherief for their work behind the bar, somewhere in my fuzzy joy at finding that Vito’s had cleaned up and had taken the craft-cocktail pledge, I accidentally gave Jared a promotion to bar manager, overlooking the man who’s done the most to turn Vito’s beverage program around: Justin Gerardy.­­ So here, in front of the Internet and everybody, I offer my apologies to Justin, and as testament to the skill of Vito’s bar staff, I offer you one of the establishment’s original drinks (developed by barman Connor O’Brien and named by Gerardy), To Hell With Spain.

To Hell With Spain

• 2 oz. blended scotch (Gerardy uses the smoke-laden Johnny Walker Double Black, which you should as well — failing that, the peat-enhanced Black Grouse should work)
• 1/2 oz. Carpano Antica vermouth
• 1/4 oz. Laphroaig 10-year-old
• 1/4 oz. Cherry Heering
• 3 dashes absinthe (Pacifique – yesss…)

Combine ingredients in a mixing glass and fill with ice. Stir well until chilled, about 30 seconds. Strain into chilled cocktail glass; garnish with a cherry.

“Remember the Maine, To Hell with Spain” — get the connection? This is the Remember the Maine’s smoky Scottish cousin, with the peaty complexity supplied both by the new-ish Johnny Walker Double Black, which carries an extra payload of Islay malt in its blend; and by a touch of Laphroaig, just to keep the fire burning. Cherry Heering, Carpano and absinthe are burly enough characters to take a little smoke in stride, and the result is a powerfully flavored, richly alluring cocktail.

As Gerardy says, “I tend to be most interested in a drink that references its ingredients, rather than tries to redefine those flavors. When you do that, some of the reverence for that is lost.” No worries of anything getting lost in this mix – it’s one I’ll come back to, especially as the season gets darker and colder.

Tags: Drinks, Establishments, Scotch by Paul
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Before I even asked Jim Romdall from Vessel if he’d let me rip off a couple of his recipes for this month-long blog frenzy, I knew whatever drinks he prepared would have some ingredient guaranteed to freak out about 90 percent of the drinking public. I mean, look at the facts: the man’s Twitter handle is @ardbegfloat, he entered a cocktail in a vodka contest that mixed the obnoxiously toothpaste-esque 42 Below Feijoa with (if my fuzzy memory serves) green Chartreuse and Bowmore (and actually made a pretty interesting drink out of it), and who’s been known to deploy both absinthe and Caol Ila in a gin-based cocktail.

Jim’s also a good sport and even after I told him that these drinks were to be featured on a blog, and not in print or anything real or sexy like that, he still played along. And while I was a little disappointed that no Islay malts made their way into the mix — really, I was fully prepared to exit Vessel smelling like my coat was on fire — Jim did indeed go there with the buckets-of-knuckles ingredients, preparing both drinks with Fernet Branca, and one of them with white dog.

Here’s where he went:

Industry Sour

• 1 1/2 ounces cognac
• 3/4 ounce Fernet Branca
• 3/4 ounce lemon juice
• 1/2 ounce lime juice
• 1/4 ounce agave nectar
• 1 egg white
• Angostura bitters, for garnish

Combine everything except the bitters in a cocktail shaker. Dry shake for a good 10 seconds to work up the egg white, then add ice and go at it again. Strain into chilled cocktail glass; drip Angostura atop the foam and swirl it into pretty pictures if that’s what you like to do with your time.

Jim actually prepared this for me using Calvados, which was an interesting detour but as he said and I agree after trying the drink again at home, you really want the soft, fruity richness of grape brandy for a platform upon which the Fernet and the citrus can play.

Speaking of the Fernet: as anybody who’s ever mixed a drink with it knows, putting Fernet Branca in a cocktail shaker with other ingredients can be the rough equivalent of feeding crystal meth to a pit bull and putting it in a room full of bunnies: the results are bloody, messy and frighteningly savage. There are a few things that can partially defang Fernet, though; one, as I’ve mentioned, is a whopping dose of vermouth, but others include egg white, which helps soften and spread out the bitter impact, and citrus — well, the citrus is like distracting the tweaking dog by hitting it with a pillow while the surviving rabbits run for cover: it doesn’t so much soften the Fernet’s bite as much as it provides another aspect of the drink that keeps the liqueur from fully dominating. Anyway, as might be expected, this is a big, bold, gnarly drink, but still pretty appealing if you’re into big, bold, gnarly things.

Vessel is right next to the 5^th Avenue Theatre, and right now, as the holidays approach, the theater is featuring A Christmas Story: The Musical, based on the “you’ll put your eye out” movie from the 1980s. In case you’ve somehow missed catching the movie during the holiday-season heavy rotation it’s enjoyed on television over the past quarter century, there’s a key scene near the end involving a Christmas turkey and a pack of the neighbor’s dogs. Always one to support the next-door theater as well as to celebrate bad behavior on the part of animals, Jim created the next drink in their honor.

Bumpass Hound

• 2 ounces rye whiskey (he used Pikesville)
• 1/2 ounce unaged (or minimally aged) rye whiskey
• 1/4 ounce Fernet Branca
• 1/4 ounce simple syrup
• 1 dash Angostura bitters
• –orange twist, for garnish

Put ingredients in a mixing glass and yadda yadda if you’ve been to this blog before you know what to do. Up, cocktail glass, orange twist.

Jim initially tried this with an ounce of Headlong White Dog from the Woodinville Whiskey Co., which is made using a rye-free bourbon mashbill, and the new spirit was just too soft and sweet for this drink, so he started over with Wasmund’s Rye Spirit, cutting the dose back to 1/2 ounce compensate for the potency of this cask-strength raw whiskey (Jim says he’ll be using Corsair Wry Moon should this drink go into the regular rotation). If you’re playing along at home and don’t have any of these spirits, another (still somewhat obscure and kinda pricey) option is to use Old Potrero 18^th Century Style Whiskey, which is all rye, cask strength and very lightly aged.

Now this is something. The drink is basically a Toronto Cocktail with additional gaminess provided by the young whiskey. I have to confess to a bit of white-dog fatigue; sure, it’s interesting stuff, but I rarely find myself actually wanting it in my glass. But in this drink, the young whiskey really plays a good role: it takes the potency of flavor that’s so engaging in a Toronto, and adds another dimension, giving the drink a new identity. The young rye also lends support to the base of aged rye, waking up the whiskey’s flavor, and in the process it erects an obstacle to keep the Fernet from stealing the show.

Anyway, thanks to Jim Romdall for playing along with my little blog project. Go see him at Vessel and buy a bunch of drinks.

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Establishments, Rye, Sixty in 30 by Paul
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I’d like to write about all the great drinks I enjoyed in New Orleans, but to be honest, after the first couple of Sazeracs everything started running together until, a week later, I boarded the flight home, still bleary eyed and happy and reeking only slightly of absinthe. God, I love New Orleans.

Before Tales of the Cocktail, I had the bright idea of hosting the Mixology Monday on the Monday following the event; then, it’d be easy enough to just slap together all the posts on drinks that bloggers were putting up at Tales Blog during the event, along with those from folks who couldn’t make it, and we’d all be done by the time the Tales hangover wore off.

Of course, I wasn’t counting on the royally uncooperative wi-fi at the Monteleone, and the sheer volume of events and distractions that kept me and a good majority of the other bloggers away from our computers until we were safely back at home. Somewhere around Thursday I realized that it was better to be out drinking and eating and talking and schmoozing than to be tapping at my keyboard, and while those of you who couldn’t come to New Orleans had to contend with a lull in posts, I can say with a good deal of certainty that I’m the better off for it.

Here’s proof. Before heading to New Orleans, I checked in with Chris Hannah at Arnaud’s French 75 bar to see when he’d be working. Chris has earned a reputation as one of the top bartenders in the city, and I couldn’t miss the chance to visit the French 75 — easily one of the most beautiful and historic bars in a city filled with them — while Chris was on duty. I dragged a contingent of booze geeks to the bar on Tuesday, the first night in town for most of us, but we just missed Chris (though we did have some great drinks in the beautiful bar). On Friday I had better luck, and fortunately had the mind to put my choice of drink in his hands. Here’s what he came back with:

Bywater, an original drink by Chris Hannah, Arnaud’s French 75 Bar, New Orleans

• 1 3/4 ounces Cruzan 5-year-old rum (Chris suggests the Cruzan Single Barrel as a suitable replacement)
• 3/4 ounce Amer Boudreau (housemade Amer Picon replica, using Jamie Boudreau’s recipe)
• 1/2 ounce Chartreuse (yellow, I’m assuming)
• 1/2 ounce Falernum (housemade, I’m guessing, using the recipe that ran in Imbibe last summer)

Stir with ice & strain into chilled cocktail glass.

The bar was humming during my visit, so I didn’t get much of a chance to chat with Chris, but he kindly provided this recipe. I’m assuming he used yellow Chartreuse, as the green has the habit of walloping both the drinker and the flavor of the cocktail, whereas the Bywater has a nice balance; and a housemade falernum made with fresh lime juice. I tried one of these at home using the Falernum #10 that I poured during the “Make Your Own Cocktail Ingredients” session; this version doesn’t call for fresh lime juice, and I found the drink needed just a little splash of acid to keep the sweetness in check. Though really, that’s kind of the beauty of this kind of drink, that uses not just one but two homemade ingredients: to position the flavors of the cocktail just so, you have the opportunity to not only adjust the levels of each ingredient, but to tinker with the flavors of the ingredients themselves to custom-craft a good drink, as Chris masterfully did with the Bywater.

The drink takes two divergent but not dischordant courses: first, you have a very gentle, vanilla-ey rum paired with the island-punch sweetener falernum; but then, you introduce two very complex and very resonant French (or French-style) ingredients, that introduce high bitter-orange notes and a mid-range light bitterness, with the elaborate floral and herbal characteristics of the Chartreuse.

The cocktail is named, of course, for the Bywater neighborhood in New Orleans, part of the Ninth Ward. I figured plenty of folks would be coming to this month’s MxMo armed with Ramos fizzes and Sazeracs, and I wanted to have a fantastic contemporary cocktail with strong New Orleans roots. The Bywater certainly fits the bill.

And since many of this month’s participants seem to be taking the Tales-style two-fisted approach with their entries, I should follow suit with the cocktail Chris poured me after I polished off my Bywater. This time, rather than try to explain it in a crowded, noisy bar, Chris simply handed me a copy of the Food & Wine Cocktails 2008 book, which includes this original recipe:

Accoutrement

• 2 ounces Calvados
• 3/4 ounce Strega
• 1/2 ounce Creole Shrubb
• 3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
• 2 dashes Peychaud’s bitters

Shake well with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass; garnish with brandied cherries.

Between the Calvados and the Creole Shrubb, I was hooked. Calvados makes some incredibly complex and evocative cocktails, and the gentle spice of the Shrub and the Strega really make this an elegant drink.

I’ve had plenty of lackluster cocktails in New Orleans at previous Tales of the Cocktail; this year, the general level of quality was notably improved, but when I positioned myself at Chris Hannah’s bar and let him show me what he had, I was absolutely blown away. I know where I’m drinking next year.

I’ve lost count on how many bloggers have joined in this Mixology Monday; I know it’s huge, though, so keep an eye out for the roundup in the next couple of days.

Tags: Calvados, Drinks, Establishments, Falernum, Mixology Monday, Rum by Paul
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Sorry for the long delay there — I think I’m still in shock from the experience of seeing so many different types of whiskey trotted out at WhiskyFest in San Francisco last Tuesday; that, and from my experience at Bourbon & Branch the night before.

While my liver and I still aren’t on speaking terms, I can say that I had a great trip. I got into town on Monday, just in time to check in at the hotel then head over to Absinthe to meet the evening’s companions, Anita & Cameron from Married…With Dinner, and Erik Ellestad and his lovely wife, Michele (a surprise to Erik, it being his birthday). Our experience at Absinthe was short, it being closed and all (happy Monday!), but we trundled over to the Orbit Room for cocktails that fell into the the “not bad, but we’ll just have one and then move on” category.

After Erik and Michelle headed off for his birthday dinner, Anita and Cameron let me tag along as we headed up the hill to NoPa. I’d read about this restaurant somewhere, and heard only glowing details, but somehow I’d missed any mention of its cocktail list (not surprising — so many reviewers turn a blind eye to that whole side of the business). That was a mistake — they had some really great sounding drinks on the menu, many with house-made bitters. Anita had a Girasol, made with fino sherry, St. Germain and sunshine bitters (made with cardamom and saffron), Cameron went for an Old Cuban and I had an Amarita, made with blanco tequila, Aperol, lime juice and house-made grapefruit bitters (the bartender said there was some sage in the bitters, and I had no complaints). They were fantastic all around.

I’d tell you about the dinner, except since I was dining with two very accomplished food bloggers, I’d probably embarass myself — though I probably couldn’t embarass myself any more than I did by hovering over my pear salad and Mediterranean fish stew, looking territorial and making growly yummy sounds as I stuffed myself with scallops and squid, oblivious to all rules of social discourse.

My manners couldn’t have been too obnoxious, though, because Anita & Cameron gave me a lift back downtown, dropping me in the middle of the Tenderloin and pointing at the unmarked door for Bourbon & Branch. This is a bar I’d heard and read about extensively since they opened, and during my short time in San Francisco it was at the top of my list of places I needed to try. Fortunately, this being a Monday, the bar was fairly quiet, and I had no problem getting a seat at the bar (the reservation I’d made earlier in the day seemed unnecessary, though on a busier night I can see how they’d be required).

And this visit to Bourbon & Branch was both my pinnacle and my defeat. Pinnacle, because I had the pleasure of being treated like a king by Joel and Eric, the gentlemen working the bar that evening. After an introductory drink I put myself in their hands, and I was really blown away. House cocktails like the Black Manhattan — made with Buffalo Trace bourbon, Averna and Fee’s Barrel-Aged bitters — were really astounding. Eric mixed another drink using Michter’s rye, Luxardo maraschino and some black liquid from a mystery bottle, then told me it was something made with Belvedere vodka in which had been macerated whole walnuts (green and black, I believe — my notes are a little sketchy), and herbs including mint and rosemary.

And defeat? It was my defeat, simply, because I was so overwhelmed by the quality of the drinks they were serving and their commitment to their craft, that by the time I stopped to think “wait — how much have I had?” the answer was “definitely enough.” Fortunately I was sitting next to a couple of guys who were also in town for WhiskyFest and who were similarly in the bag, and together we pointed ourselves in the right direction for our hotels (except for the guy we lost somewhere — but his buddy wasn’t concerned, so neither was I). I shrugged off the offer to hang out and drink tequila — probably the best decision I’ve made in a long time — then made it back to the hotel to crash and then wake up with a headful of thunder and fuzzy memories (thank god for the notebook).

After I managed to slough off most of my hangover — foraging a lunch at the Ferry Building Marketplace helped — and take care of a little work, I headed up to Haight St. to meet Erik and Jimmy Patrick at Alembic. This was another bar I’d been hoping to try, and while I was saving myself for WhiskyFest — and was still a bit tender from the night before — I had a fantastic La Paloma, with house-made grapefruit soda, while Erik and Jimmy went for Sazeracs. I nearly broke down in tears when I saw the list of ryes on their spirits board, and I felt really at home in Alembic’s comfortable space.

While the drinks were tasty, the highlight for me was getting to hang out with Erik and Jimmy, who’s a dedicated whiskey fan, even if he does prefer the delicate peaty stuff to the awesome vitality of an honest-to-god American spirit. Still, one more scotch drinker meant more bourbon for me, so after settling up Jimmy and I grabbed a cab downtown for the main event.

I had planned on playing it really cool and easy, taking a walk around the room and scoping out the selection before diving in. I made it as far as the Van Winkle table before scrapping that plan. Both Preston and Julian were in attendance, and since I’d spoken with Preston by phone before, I thought I’d stop and introduce myself (and grab a taste of some 20-year-old Pappy along the way). Van Winkle has always had everything I love in bourbons — a rich, buttery base with a nice, soft body and a finish that lasts for weeks.

I could have spent five minutes just nosing the whiskey before moving on, and would have, if I hadn’t noticed that right next to Van Winkle was the table for Buffalo Trace. In various places on this site I’ve been known to wax rhapsodic about the wonders of Weller and the virtues of the Sazerac line of ryes. Buffalo Trace had their top of the line out for WhiskyFest, which of course meant the 2007 Antique Collection, and were pouring tastings before the bottles even hit the shelves. My impulse was to go directly for the Stagg — at 144 proof, the bulldozer of bourbons — but instead I started gentle, with a taste of the Sazerac 18-year-old rye. Christ – I love all the Sazerac ryes (the Thomas Handy is one of my top 3 ryes, ever), but the 18-year-old is really a centerpiece of the Antique Collection, and it’s easy to see why. Dry, oaky, almost musty in its austerity, the rye has a beautifully crisp flavor that really primes the palate. It was hard to tear myself away from the Sazerac, but for the sake of the Stagg, I managed it, and JESUS! was that a big bunch of whiskey in the glass. At 144 proof, this bourbon is afraid of nothing, and it had this amazing aroma of pipe tobacco that made you just want to settle down with a glass and spend some time getting acquainted. This is probably gonna be my Christmas present to myself this year, assuming I can find a bottle.

After Van Winkle, Sazerac and Stagg, it could have all gone downhill, but there were so many fantastic whiskies being poured that it was easy to just roam and talk and taste. I estimate I tasted around 35-40 whiskies during the evening, ranging from Stranahan’s Colorado whiskey to 40 Creek Canadian whiskey (which I’d previously enjoyed at Tales of the Cocktail) to Jura single malt (a “highland from an island,” poured by Willie Tait), to a trio of Mackillop’s Choice Single Cask whiskies (poured by Lorne Mackillop himself — thanks to Jimmy for making the introduction), and another trio of Old Pulteney.

But while I stepped around the map a bit, American whiskies are where my main interest lies, and I had some really fantastic stuff that I’ll likely never see again. From tasting Woodford Reserve’s four-grain and Sonoma-Cutrer Finish whiskies (the latter finished in used chardonnay casks, which gave the bourbon a bright, fruity complexity) to the 23-year-old Evan Williams Blue Label (107 proof, really rich on the nose and very spicy, with fistfuls of licorice and molasses and a finish that followed me home to Seattle — only $350 a bottle, available at Heaven Hill Heritage Center and in some foreign markets), there was a lot to enjoy.

But this was one of my favorites, partially because I wasn’t supposed to have it and partially because it’s my most favorite of whiskies, a rye:

The photo is blurry because Larry Kass was trying to keep it out of everyone’s sight after pouring me a taste — Rittenhouse 23-year-old Single Barrel straight rye whiskey, new on the market and a steal at $160. He only had two bottles on hand, and they were under the table, sharing space with two bottles of another new Heaven Hill bottling, Parker’s Heritage Collection Cask Strength bourbon, named for master distiller Parker Beam. The rye had Rittenhouse’s characteristic bright spicy kick, but at 23 years in the wood it was really mature, with leather and chocolate bouncing around with that spiky rye character, proving that while a rye whiskey can be fully matured, it can still keep a lot of attitude. And the bourbon — oh, the bourbon … bright and floral on the nose, but with a rich, lively spiciness on the palate. I’m always saying nice things about the products put out by Buffalo Trace, but Heaven Hill deserves a lot of praise for what they’ve done with whiskey.

Amid all this, I kept bumping into people I knew, and people I’d been wishing to meet for a long time. It was great seeing Camper English, Martin Cate and Jacques Bezuidenhout again, and meeting Marcovaldo Dionysus for the first time. And in between there were seminars, with Fred Noe and Richard Paterson, and Larry Kass and Parker Beam.

I’d like to say I finished up with a dash to Cantina (it was only around the corner from my hotel, for Chrissakes) and another to Absinthe, plus the Bourbon & Branch after-party, but really, I was done (and I’d been very restrained, only finishing 4 of the quarter-ounce samples I’d been poured). After a beer at the hotel bar with Jimmy and his buddy Pete, I called it a night.

Stagg — Sazerac — Rittenhouse 23 — Parker’s Heritage Collection … I may need to expand my Christmas list this year.

Tags: Bourbon, Establishments, Events, Rye, Scotch by Paul
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A long time ago, I lamented the fact that there weren’t many cocktails that called for limoncello as an ingredient. After a few rounds of experimentation I moved on to other things, but still, from time to time, I’d glance at the bottle of limoncello in my freezer and wish I could do something with it beyond simply enjoying the occasional chilled shot.

Call this wish fulfillment. I first tried this drink last week, at a newish Seattle lounge called Licorous (and which actually isn’t all that new, but since it took me several months to actually drag myself over there, it was new to me). Licorous’ cocktails have generated a lot of local attention, partially because of its pairings menu: an $8.50 drink is transformed into a $10.50 experience when a small, pre-selected appetizer is served alongside. Considering that the lounge is adjacent to and closely related to Lark, Jonathan Sundstrom’s acclaimed small-plate restaurant, the paired tidbits are blow-me-away ventures of the fois-gras-bon-bon and Armandino-Batali’s-oregano-salumi persuasion, and the bar similarly sets its mark high.

The Renaissance is a Robert Hess original, and is one of the best uses of limoncello in a cocktail since … well, maybe ever, at least in my experience. The brandy and the vermouth give it a nice, lush base, and the touch of limoncello spiked with bitters lend a mildly sweet, fruity perfume.

While Licorous prepares the cocktail using one of its house-made bitters, Robert says the drink was crafted with Fee’s Peach Bitters in mind. Having tried it both ways, I’ve found I prefer the brightness of the peach / lemon interplay, but if you haven’t got peach bitters on hand, I’d suggest taking a crack at this with a couple of dashes of orange bitters. It’ll be a slightly different drink, but still mighty tasty.

Renaissance

• 2 oz. brandy
• 1 1/3 oz. sweet vermouth
• 1/3 oz. limoncello
• 2 dashes Fee’s Peach Bitters (or try orange bitters, if you don’t have peach)

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Establishments, Vermouth by Paul
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