Entries Tagged as 'Mixology Monday'

Disappearing Act

Oh, so that’s where WordPress hid the “Publish” icon!

It’s been a long drought around here, for all the usual reasons — laziness, busy-ness, and some lingering technical snafus that took much longer than I’d hoped to be resolved — but I’ve been meaning to dust off the blog for a bit, and today seemed the perfect time.

You see, not only is today Mixology Monday, but it’s the first MxMo since I founded the event more than six years ago that I’m not moderating. This monthly cocktail party has brought a lot of boozy enjoyment over the years — to me, certainly, but also to the scores of people who’ve hosted and participated since the debut MxMo in April 2006 — but as with any ongoing event, you need some fresh blood to keep the whole thing from sagging into redundancy.

Feeling myself turning into the saggy sort when it came to keeping MxMo operational, I long considered either retiring the event — which struck me as somewhat selfish, so I shelved that idea for the time being — or handing it off to someone else, someone I trusted to keep the thing going without turning Mixology Monday into an embarrassment, and whose enthusiasm for good drinks would mean MxMo would give all its participants and readers a lingering buzz for years to come. So, starting this month, the whole Mixology Monday shebang is in the hands of Fred Yarm at Cocktail Virgin Slut, an experienced MxMo host who I’ve been fortunate enough to bend an elbow with in person, and who is basically booze-blogging personified.

Anyway, Fred is serving as both MxMo moderator and host this month, and he’s chosen for his inaugural theme: Equal Parts. Essentially, this means taking everything you’ve learned from proportionately equivalent drinks such as the Negroni and the Last Word — and by “everything,” I mean the premise that “1+1+1+1=awesome” — and deploy that understanding in the wild.

I’ve always had a thing for aperitifs, and as I wrote in the current issue of Imbibe magazine, American producers are increasingly making some delicious things to play with. My latest toy in the cocktail department is Imbue Petal & Thorn, a bitter aperitif that’s more like a vino amaro than a standard vermouth (or Imbue’s Bittersweet Vermouth). Delicate and herbal to the nose, the aperitif has a nice, lingering bitterness and a complexity that’s engaging enough to stand up to bold ingredients. Most of my trials with Petal & Thorn have been simple, martini or martinez-like combinations; this Negroni-esque drink is similarly simple, but has a crisp, earthy flavor that is anything but simplistic. Christened after my recent and temporary hiatus from the blog world, here’s the–

Disappearing Act

  • 1 oz. reposado tequila (I used Partida)
  • 1 oz. Imbue Petal & Thorn aperitif
  • 1 oz. sweet vermouth (I used Cocchi Vermouth di Turino)

Combine in a double old-fashioned glass and add ice; stir to chill. Garnish with grapefruit twist.

Somewhere between the agave snap, the spice in Petal & Thorn and the cola-esque sweetness of the vermouth, the Disappearing Act is almost chocolate-ey in its smoothness, with a light bitter bite in the finish that keeps the drink alert.

Now that I’ve rediscovered the “publish” icon, and apparently didn’t hurt myself too badly while typing this post, I may stick around in the blogosphere a while longer. But for now, head over to Fred’s site and see what everybody else was mixing for this Mixology Monday.

Tiki, (Long) Island Style

I’ve gotten lazy. Not just with this blog–I mean, look at how long it’s been since the last post–and not just with documenting whatever drinks-related writing and cocktail-related things I’m working on at any point in time. No, I’ve gotten lazy, in general, with drinks–which explains why, on this Mixology Monday, when the theme is tiki, I’m mixing something that goes into a damn cocktail glass.

There was a time when a call-to-tiki-arms would have had me making batches of syrups and shopping for passionfruit puree or essence of guava or some other exotic ephemera, and at times I still summon that kind of energy. But nowadays, my mixological habits tend to follow the path of least resistance; unless I have a particular hankering for something, preparing for a group event or tinkering with a work-related project, most likely I’m mixing something no more ambitious than an Old Fashioned or a Martini, or punting into even easier territory by skipping straight to whiskey-rocks or simply popping open a beer. And there’s not a damn thing wrong with that.

But as I said, it’s Mixology Monday, the somewhat-monthly event that pokes me into action, prompted in large part by the guilt I’d feel at shirking an event that I originally introduced in 2006–oh, the innocence of those bygone days!–and have moderated for almost six years. This month’s host, Doug Winship, selected tiki as his theme, no doubt envisioning a minor horde of home mixologists breaking out their blenders and their tiki mugs for some mid-winter escapist tippling.

Blender? Tiki mug? This Monday’s motivation level says, “Ain’t happening.”

But the guilt! Plus, I’m thirsty! So, here’s something fairly easy, but that still fits in with the general theme: the Trade Wind Cocktail.

As with almost anything else faux-tropical related, I’m nabbing this recipe from the valuable work done by Beachbum Berry. In his Beachbum Berry Remixed, Jeff notes that this drink is from the Trade Winds Restaurant on Long Island, and dates it to 1959. Unlike the flood of other drinks that came from the mid-century Polynesian-style era, the Trade Wind is based on gin, not rum, and really, the only touch of the Caribbean or any warm-weather locale is the three-quarters of an ounce of curacao that sweetens this otherwise simple twist on the gin sour.

And as I said earlier regarding a beer or a whiskey-rocks: there’s not a damn thing wrong with that. Not all drinks that fit under the tiki umbrella are fabulous 12-ingredient formulations; there’s a need in the exotica pantheon for drinks that are smaller, drier and brighter than the syrup-laden punches that fill massive ceramic mugs. Most traditional bars, even today, have little room for tiki and its ilk (for good reason, in many cases); tiki bars, however, are more forgiving, and a basic gin-based drink tagged with a tropical moniker can still evoke ideas of a lazy day in the islands, even if the most exotic place on this particular island is within walking distance of the LIRR.

Trade Wind Cocktail
adapted from Beachbum Berry Remixed

  • 1 1/4 oz. gin
  • 3/4 oz. orange curacao
  • 1 1/2 oz. fresh lemon juice
  • 1/2 tsp. simple syrup
  • 1 egg white

Combine in shaker; dry shake until foamy, about 10 seconds, then add ice and shake again another 10 or thereabouts. Strain into chilled cocktail glass.

 

Mixology Monday: Occupying the ‘Tini

I love the Appletini.

Mind you, I’ve never actually had one — not a “real” one, anyway, assuming you can call a drink that’s become an icon of all that’s saccharine and false about cocktails “real.” Even when I was younger and (more) stupid, when I was less picky about what went into my glass, a drink that both looked and tasted like Jolly Ranchers just seemed to be wrong, not only a fraudulent fake of a proper cocktail, but yet one more molestation of a natural flavor.

But as someone who makes his living writing about drinks, the Appletini has been a godsend, a useful tool for mocking all that’s wrong with bars, and an instrument of warning to those who are tempted to take the quick, easy way out. Plus, with the drink’s pioneering appropriation of the ‘tini suffix, the Appletini became a punchline in itself, a gaudy green scapegoat in a cocktail glass for craptinis everywhere. Long may it wave.

There’s a problem here, though. Y’see, for all its faults, an Appletini has one thing going for it: it tastes decent to a lot of people (so I assume — again, I’ve never had one, but it’s easy to come to that conclusion) — and why not? It tastes like apples (kinda, or at least what apples taste like as interpreted by food scientists), and apples are awesome. Even spirits actually made from apples don’t really, truly taste like apples (except on a certain ethereal, completely engaging level), thanks mostly to the effects of barrel aging — not that I’m complaining, of course. But, apples — why not? If you can take a drink that’s emblematic of all that’s fake in mixology, and render it in a natural way, isn’t that a worthwhile cause (or at least a potentially interesting way of spending a Monday evening)?

Fortunately, today is Mixology Monday, and as this month’s host Jacob Grier chose to frame it, this month’s event is themed “Retro Redemption.” Jacob’s challenge is to take a misbegotten concoction, preferably from recent decades, and tweak it into something appealing to the growing craft-cocktail crowd. And if ever a drink needed tweaking, it’s the Appletini.

So, here’s how I’m going to proceed: I’m going to take the Appletini at its most literal, and break it down by the constituent parts of its name — first, it has to have an apple influence; and second, it has to earn that ‘tini suffix.

My starting ground rule is that the drink’s base elements must be gin (vodka? really? are you in the right place?) and dry vermouth; bonus points if the orange bitters stay in the equation. And for the apple? It must be a natural component, something from an actual apple, not a mock-up of apple flavor or a processed apple product. Simply adding an ounce of apple juice or the like to the drink would be cheating on a certain level — my self-imposed rule stipulates that the drink must still be identifiable as a martini — but what if I process the drink through an apple?

We know from experience that apples and dry vermouth work fantastic together, as demonstrated in Audrey Saunders’ Eve — a simple five-day infusion of Macintosh apples in vermouth. Had I given this project much thought prior to the last couple of days, I might’ve smacked a bottle together, but by the time I started thinking about the apple + martini project earlier today, the infusion ship had sailed.

Or had it? No, I didn’t have five days for an infusion, but I had a few minutes — not to mention a couple of Granny Smith apples and an iSi cream whipper, which, by following the nitrogen infusion process first explored by Dave Arnold, was all I needed to do a flash-infusion of apples into my drink, and which hopefully would only bring the delicate, fruity notes of the fruit, without the darker, bitter flavors that come from oxidizing apples.

Okay, this post is way too chatty by this point — let’s get down to the recipe:

The Appletini is Dead! Long live the Appletini!
makes 3 drinks

  • 6 ounces gin (I used Plymouth)
  • 3 ounces dry vermouth (I used Noilly Prat)
  • 1 large (or 1 1/2 small) Granny Smith apple
  • 1 dash orange bitters
  • lemon zest, for garnish
  1. Core the apple and chop it, peel and all, into small chunks. Place the apple chunks in the canister of an iSi cream whipper, and add the gin and vermouth.
  2. Seal the whipper, and get your stopwatch ready. Use a N2O charger to pressurize the whipper, and swirl the contents around for 30 seconds; at the end of 30 seconds, place the whipper on the counter and let it rest an additional 30 seconds.
  3. Rapidly depressurize the whipper by placing a plastic container over the spout (to catch the spraying liquid) and squeeze the lever. Once the whipper is completely depressurized, strain the liquid into a large glass. Let it rest a few minutes before using — the flavor develops better with a little time.
  4. Proceed as with a standard cocktail: place three ounces of liquid in a mixing glass, add a dash of bitters along with a bunch of ice, and stir until chilled. Strain into chilled cocktail glass; hit it with the lemon zest.

This worked out better than expected. The liquid went into the canister a light straw color (from the vermouth), and came out a delicate, chlorophyll green. At first sip, the apple was barely noticable — it was all martini, with a softer, rounder edge.

But after the liquid rested a bit more, the apple flavor developed; the drink was still no fucking doubt a martini, but it had a lightly floral aroma, and a lingering finish that was had the bright, acidic crispness and the very gentle sweetness of a fresh Granny Smith apple. You wouldn’t sip this drink and have “apple” immediately leap to mind, but the fruit gradually manifested itself as a welcome addition to the martini’s familiar flavor — as though the bright freshness of the fruit was one of the botanicals in the gin or the vermouth, pronounced enough to be identifiable as a flavor, and definitely lending a soft, fruity caress to the drink, but not attempting to seize control of the drink’s character from its spirituous base elements.

Does it taste like a “real” Appletini? Hell, no. That’s why I’m still drinking it…

Anyway, that’s my MxMo contribution for this month. Head over to Jacob’s place and see what others have got up to for this round.

Black Velvet

Mornings? You can keep ‘em.

Even though I have all the daytime demands that come with being a middle-aged family man unburdened by independent wealth, I still prefer coming at the morning from the other side — seeing the sunrise as a tip that it’s time to go to bed rather than as the cue that it’s time to start making the goddamn donuts.

But, what can you do? Well, when the opportunity presents itself, you can start the day with a drink.

A disclaimer: I almost never start the day with a drink. When I stagger into the kitchen most days, it’s the coffee cup I’m reaching for to pull me out of my bleary haze; a drink at that hour? Might as well go back to bed, which isn’t a bad idea at all, but one that brings us back to those daytime demands I mentioned earlier. But sometime the day just swings that way; either it’s a special weekend or a holiday when you have the luxury of squandering an hour or so at the breakfast table or of slouching back to bed after tucking in to the bacon and brioche, or you’ve got guests, in which case you could use a damn drink to get everyone through the ordeal of beginning a new day together.

(Or, you could also be thinking of a breakfast drink because today is Mixology Monday, hosted by Kevin at Cocktail Enthusiast, and Kevin has chosen “Morning Drinks” for this month’s theme.)

Anyway, there are some grand morning drinks out there — think the Ramos Fizz, the French 75 or the Milk Punch – as well as the old standbys (the Bloody Mary, of course, and its frequent companion, the Mimosa) — and once you start thinking about it, almost anything can make a case for itself for winding up in your cocktail glass just as the toast is being buttered.

But, think carefully here: for all their beauty, the Ramos Fizz and the French 75 are perfect morning drink s only when prepared by someone else. Really, if you’re still waking up and possibly shaking off the effects of the night before, do you really want to commit yourself to compounding elaborate mixtures of ingredients and rat-a-tatting them in the cocktail shaker anywhere near your tender head? And as for the Bloody Mary and the Mimosa – well, they’re not bad, necessarily, especially if you’re using decent booze and good ingredients and take a little care in the preparation. But every time I drink a Bloody Mary or one of its kin — this is usually in the once a year department, typically on New Year’s Day — I find myself asking, “Is that all there is?” Ditto for the Mimosa, and the answer, of course, is “Yes — sorry.”

So — what’s tasty and fortifying, gentle on the head, palate and stomach and easy enough to prepare so you can mix yourself a drink with little fuss, or knock out a bunch for a crowd? Consider the Black Velvet. True, there’s no hard booze in there, but at this hour that can’t be considered a crime, especially when one of the ingredients is champagne, which makes everything in life just a little bit better. The other ingredient? Beer — stout, to be precise, and as any hangover survivor can attest, the bubbles and the barley are among the most useful curatives known to man (also on that list: champagne, which makes all of this absolutely golden). No shaking or cautious jiggering is required, and the only advance prep the Black Velvet requires is that you stick the beer and the wine in the fridge the night before.

The Black Velvet reportedly originated in 1861, at Brook’s Club in London, following the death of Prince Albert (at least, that’s what the Guinness website states — I’ve done exactly no digging to verify the claim). There’s another version of the drink in circulation, made with cider in place of champagne; I haven’t tried it so I can’t speak to its character, but if you’re looking for an excellent breakfast companion (especially if you’re mixing for friends), shell out the extra cash and go for the bubbly. There are also recipes that insist this drink be layered, a la a Pousse Caffe. Should your breakfast require a floor show or other dramatic effects, feel free to go that route; for me, I’m happier with the stout and the champagne joining each other on equal terms, the ferric tang of the Guinness finding its mate in the fruity snap of the wine, and the distinctive bubbles of each beverage brightening the outlook for the day ahead.

Black Velvet

  • Guinness or other stout, chilled (but, really, Guinness)
  • Brut champagne or other dry sparkling wine, chilled

Fill a champagne flute (fancy!) or a Collins glass (for more generous-size drinks) halfway with chilled champagne. Gently add the stout (careful, this can be a foamy production) to fill the glass. Give the whole thing a cautious stir, then proceed with the morning’s business.

That’s my suggestion for a decent drink to start the day — for more suggestions, head over to Cocktail Enthusiast to see what other folks recommend for morning drinks.

MxMo Come to your senses: do you smell something in here?

I’ve been at this cocktail thing a long time. A little more than eight years ago, if memory serves, I bought my first bottle of rye, tracked down a copy of David Embury’s The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks on eBay (price: $10 — oh, how things have changed) and started mixing the hell out of everything. But over the years (as the dwindling frequency of posts here suggests), I’ve grown lazy and jaded on some issues related to creative drinks, and the transformative episodes of finding a rare spirit or tasting a paradigm-shifting cocktail are now fewer and much further between.

Still, I’ve had my moments, and some of these have been quite memorable, based largely on the olfactory experience of a particular drink. This isn’t surprising, of course; the sense of smell has a tighter link to memory than any of our other senses (or so I recall reading somewhere, and it seems to make sense so I’ve stuck with it so far). And while I sometimes struggle to recall the precise flavor of a certain whiskey or of a once-mindbending cocktail, there are experiences I recall with complete clarity, due largely to the assertive aroma of a particular drink: the first Sazerac I had that was mixed with French absinthe (rather than Pernod or Herbsaint in those not-so-long-ago times when absinthe was still verboten), as the ethereal fragrance of green anise wafted up from the glass; or the moment at a Tales of the Cocktail past, as Eric Seed from Haus Alpenz poured sample cups of the not-yet-released Smith & Cross in a crowded tasting room and I caught the lascivious funk of the rum’s aroma from a full 10 feet away. And another? The Gin Basil Smash is right up there.

The Gin Basil Smash has a history that is blissfully short: created in 2008 by Jorg Meyer at his bar, Le Lion in Hamburg, the drink has reportedly enjoyed a good deal of popularity in Germany and environs (and is the only cocktail I know of that has its own Facebook page). The drink’s composition is ludicrously simple: just a basic gin sour with the addition of fresh basil and the lemon shell, which you muddle together and shake before double-straining over fresh ice (or, more in tune with the drink’s inspiration, a contemporary-style smash with the addition of basil).

Gin Basil Smash
by Jorg Meyer (adapted for us non-metric types)

  • 2 oz. gin (I used Hendricks because it’s decent, I have a lot of it in the house and the urge struck)
  • 3/4 oz. fresh lemon juice (about half a medium lemon)
  • 3/4 oz. simple syrup
  • 1 bunch fresh basil
  • basil leaf, for garnish

Place basil and lemon shell in a mixing tin and muddle away (you can instead drop in half a lemon rather than a squeezed lemon shell, but you’re ramping up your muddling work a little). Add the remaining ingredients, fill shaker with ice and shake well until chilled, about 10 seconds. Strain into old-fashioned glass filled with fresh ice. Garnish with basil leaf.

Anyway, whatever – the drink is absolutely delicious, yes, but it’s also intensely aromatic. With a big bunch of fresh basil going into the mixing tin, the cocktail comes out alluringly green, but also enormously fragrant, impressing it all that much more on your memory the first time you tuck into one, while also making what would otherwise be a simple gin sour into a more three-dimensional drinking experience.

…which is kind of what this month’s Mixology Monday is all about. The theme is “Come to Your Senses,” and it’s hosted over at 12 Bottle Bar. Head on over and see what everyone else has come up with–

  • 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