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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I have a thing for weird, unobtainable booze. I’m also hardly alone — peruse the cocktail blogosphere, and you’ll find many other folks like me. There we are, sniffing around for violet liqueur and Swedish punsch, and embarking on major undertakings that are time and cost intensive — and sometimes in violation of state and federal statute — just so we can finally follow a drink recipe that was dug out of a bartender’s guide that went out of print before our respective parents were born.

Hey, I’m there.

Why do we want this stuff? That’s the question I try to tackle in my story in the latest issue of Imbibe. Titled “Gone but not Forgotten” and beautifully photographed and designed — no, really, the story is freaking gorgeous – the article covers the pursuit of Batavia Arrack, Amer Picon, Falernum, Creme de Violette and Pimento Dram. As with other stories, one of the main perks of writing this piece was having the opportunity to get on the horn with folks like Ted Haigh, Chuck Taggart, Eric Seed and Jeffrey Morgenthaler, and to chat about cocktails and weird booze for a while. I also sat with Jamie Boudreau one afternoon and sampled his homemade Amer Picon substitute side-by-side with the authentic version (not surprisingly given Jamie’s talents, the replica was better, with a fuller, richer flavor that promises to work much better in cocktails than the watered down contemporary Picon). As a gesture of thanks for his efforts, I even gave Jamie credit for creation of the Chartreuse Swizzle, a remarkable and powerful drink that apparently has its provenance elsewhere (sorry, Marcovaldo).

I’m sure some folks are thinking, “If these things are impossible to find, why should I care?” Mainly because for many of these ingredients, finding them isn’t so impossible anymore. Look at absinthe (not covered in the article, but still one of those must-have-but-can’t-easily-find ingredients): a year ago, you had to be willing to bend the law and make your credit card whimper in order to obtain a decent bottle of the stuff; now, you can pick up a bottle at your local liquor store (if you live in New York), or easily, legally and somewhat-affordably get one online.

More pertinent examples, perhaps, are creme de violette and Batavia arrack: violette is one of those near-impossible-to-get ingredients that only a lucky few have, thanks mainly to traveling friends who hit liquor stores in Japan or France (thanks again, Chris! And thanks for the refill, Darren). Batavia arrack — rum’s ancestor, the base to arrack punch and the long-lost Swedish punsch — is perhaps even harder to find, squirreled away in dusty old shops in Germany and the Netherlands, or brought back from Indonesia.

Now (soon, anyway), both of these are at hand: thanks to Eric Seed, an esoteric-spirits aficionado and incredibly nice guy who is principal at Haus Alpenz, these products are back in the United States; I don’t think they’re in stores just yet (Eric, help me out here if that’s not the case), but they’re in a warehouse somewhere in New Jersey about to be loaded on a truck bound for your finest liquor stores, where they’ll wait until some of your more dedicated New York cocktail geeks grab a bottle and swoon.

And that’s not all, but that’s all I’ll say for now. Want more info? Then head for Tales of the Cocktail, where a panel will discuss “Lost Ingredients” on Thursday, July 19. Panel participants include Ted Haigh, Chuck Taggart, Eric Seed and myself, along with several other notables, and we’ll discuss several of the spirits mentioned in the Imbibe story, along with a few more. Surprising announcements and great excitement guaranteed.

Tags: Falernum, General, Pimento Dram by Paul
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Pulling this drink out of the old reliable Beachbum Berry’s Grog Log, in pursuit of something in which to give the new falernum a spin — and given my purpose, could there be a more perfect name than the “Test Pilot”?

I first tried this last week, and immediately became very fond of it. The Bum credits the recipe to Don the Beachcomber, circa 1941, and as he wrote elsewhere in the book, one of Don’s secret ingredients was the combination of Angostura and Pernod. I can see why — both are used in minute doses, so you don’t actually taste their flavor up front, but Angostura does its deep, spicy thing in the glass while the Pernod takes its mildly sweet anise-ey flavor and spreads it out to the far corners of the drink, so you don’t actually taste anise, but you know something is in there that’s rounding the edges of all the other flavors.

I’d go even further and say that Don’s use of this bitters-pastis one-two punch is the missing link between the old-school classic cocktails of the Gilded Age and beyond, and the mid-century Tiki movement that Don helped launch. Bitters, of course, are one of four ingredients in the original cocktail as it was defined, and many of the old classics were given a little vavoom and a touch of wahoo with a few drops of absinthe (witness: the Third Degree, basically an old-time dry martini with a dash of absinthe; and the McKinley’s Delight, a rye Manhattan with a little cherry brandy and a dab of the old monster).

The Test Pilot is an excellent primer to tiki drinks. Like any good cocktail, it doesn’t taste like any of its constituent parts, but rather it’s a carefully balanced amalgam of all the different ingredients. I’d serve this to anyone who looked down their nose at tiki drinks, as proof that this style of libation can be balanced and layered, and can have a gentle sweetness that is in perfect accordance with the tartness from the citrus.

For this version, I’ve used Herbsaint in place of Pernod (I was looking for a reason to crack that bottle I brought back from New Orleans, plus the good Grog Log informs us that Herbsaint enjoys a certain degree of historical accuracy), and I’ve used Appleton V/X for the dark Jamaican rum (perhaps not exactly what was intended, but Lemon Hart Jamaican is nowhere to be found around here, and Myers just disappoints me), and slightly more flavorful Cruzan white in place of the light Puerto Rican rum. Also, I lacked a wooden oyster fork — really, there’s such a thing? — so I just tossed the garnish on top.

For blending, I decided to also use an immersion blender in place of one of the upright canister types — partially for noise & hassle-of-cleaning reasons, but also because the stick blender gives me a little more control, so I can pulse it a few times with crushed ice over five seconds or so, and have a drink that’s mixed, but without the consistency of a slushy.

Test Pilot

• 1/2 ounce fresh lime juice
• 1/2 ounce Falernum
• 3 teaspoons Cointreau
• dash Angostura bitters
• 1/8 teaspoon Pernod
• 3/4 ounce light Puerto Rican rum
• 1 1/2 ounces dark Jamaican rum

Blend with 1 cup crushed ice for 5 seconds, then pour into double old-fashioned glass. Add more crushed ice to fill. Garnish with a wooden oyster fork with maraschino cherry skewered on prongs.

Tags: Drinks, Falernum, Rum, Tiki by Paul
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Six weeks ago or thereabouts, the good Dr. Cocktail set a little corner of the cocktail- & tiki-blogging community a-twitter with an in-depth discussion of the classic Barbados liqueur / sweetener known as falernum. As those who, for some inexplicable reason, have been visiting this blog since last summer may attest, I’ve been on a sporadic quest to create my own falernum, one that will compare in flavor and surpass in freshness the commercial brands that are available (in certain markets, typically not Seattle, which was another impetus behind taking on this mission). After Doc’s story came out, I talked big about having landed the Giant Falernum, then quickly had to scurry into my kitchen to make sure I knew what I was talking about.

I didn’t, but that’s nothing new.

Still, by that point I’d got my hackles up — no falernum’s going to make a monkey outta me! — and I embarked on several more rounds of falernum experimentation before finally arriving at this recipe. I liked it fine, but distrusting my tastebuds, I took some to Tales of the Cocktail where I sought the expert opinions of Dr. Cocktail and Jeff “Beachbum” Berry. The experts succeeded in getting a taste down without gagging, making me damn proud, and Doc even gave me an uneasy smile before offering me $5 to go sit at a different table. I consider that a ringing endorsement.

Now, as I’m kind of tired of messing with the recipe — you have no idea how my family is reacting to a refrigerator full of mason jars with green, funky-smelling liquids in them (and that’s in the spaces between the vermouth bottles) — I thought I’d share it with my readers. Both of you.

Falernum #8

• 6 ounces Wray & Nephew Overproof White Rum
• zest of 9 medium limes, removed with a microplane grater or sharp vegetable peeler, with no traces of white pith
• 40 whole cloves (buy fresh ones — not the cloves that have been in your spice rack since last Christmas)
• 1 1/2 ounce, by weight, peeled, julienned fresh ginger

Combine these ingredients in a jar and seal, letting the mixture soak for 24 hours. Then, strain through moistened cheesecloth, squeezing the solids to extract the last, flavorful bits of liquid.

Add:

• 1/4 teaspoon almond extract*
• 14 ounces cold process 2:1 simple syrup (two parts sugar to one part water, shaken in a jar or bottle WITHOUT HEAT until all the sugar is dissolved)
• 4 1/2 ounces fresh, strained lime juice

Shake it all together and serve.

Is it the be-all and end-all of falernums? Of course not — rather, it’s an easy and cheap way to make a fairly obscure flavoring that’s essential in a class of exotic drinks. As it uses fresh ingredients, it has (to my palate) a better aroma and snappier flavor than the commercial brands I’ve tried. Of course, this freshness also limits its shelf life, so make small batches — this recipe may easily be halved — keep it refrigerated and use it within a month or so. Either chuck the old falernum or, better yet, just have a big swizzle party before your batch expires.

You can also customize this recipe. If you really like the tartness of the Fee’s falernum, for example, you can either add more lime juice (be careful though; the flavor will take over) or you can track down some citric acid crystals and add them to your mix (it won’t be as natural and pure, of course, but what the hell — it’s your drink).

If anyone decides to give this a spin, toss a note my way in the comments — I’m curious to hear what other folks think.

Tags: Falernum, Special Projects, Tiki by Paul
67 Comments »

Last summer, I embarked on a somewhat lengthy adventure with the Barbados liqueur-slash-sweetener, falernum. Feeling my way through the flavor, playing with different recipes (some posted, some — the best ones — not), trying different drinks in order to figure out what was the best or “true” falernum flavor — the whole deal.

I should have just waited.

Today, over at Martini Republic, the good Dr. Cocktail tackles the various falernum questions and puts them to rest — where did it come from? which is better, John. D. Taylor Velvet Falernum or Fee’s West Indies Style Falernum? what the hell is the difference? which should I use? (Doc’s answer, of course: “it depends”)

I still maintain that the last batch I whipped up was fresher (if not more authentic) in flavor than either commercial brand I’ve tried, but I yield to Dr. Cocktail’s mighty, mighty research powers in explaining exactly what you should put in your drink.

Tags: Falernum by Paul
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