Entries Tagged as 'Applejack'

Farmer’s Bishop

Last Christmas — and the one before that, too, as a matter of fact — I was all about getting into the festive holiday spirit by torching up big bowls of punch. I’m not sure if I’ll get to that this year: I have some aged eggnog that should be ready Christmas Eve, and if that doesn’t put me in the hospital then I’ve kind of been jonesing for Reveillon Cocktails and Tom & Jerry on Christmas Day and at other festive events (I even started on the Reveillons early, as should you, after reading Chuck’s recent post revisiting his extraordinary contribution to holiday mixology). But should things change, I plan to have some oranges, cloves and cider handy, along with a box of matches. And maybe this year I’ll try to lay in some extra apple brandy, just in case.

Farmer's BishopHere’s a little novelty I found in an old Peter Pauper Press holiday drink guide I recently picked up on eBay: the Farmer’s Bishop (I’m sure it’s out there in other books, I just haven’t gone looking yet). It’s related to the Christmas Rum Punch (aka English Bishop) I wrote about last year, with the only difference between the two being the use of apple brandy instead of rum. I have no gripe with the rum version — damn tasty, that — but I’m really intrigued by how this could turn out. I’d imagine you’d want something like Laird’s bonded apple brandy, or possibly something from Laird’s line of aged brandies or a Calvados or even Clear Creek’s young apple brandy, instead of the Laird’s applejack, which won’t provide as much of a fruit flavor as this punch might require. If anybody goes for it, please post a note in the comments section.

Farmer’s Bishop adapted from The Holiday Drink Book, Peter Pauper Press, 1951

  • 6 oranges
  • around 4 dozen whole cloves
  • 1 bottle apple brandy
  • 2 tablespoons sugar
  • 1/2 gallon cider
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • and if you have any pimento dram kicking around, an ounce or so would work wonders here

Stick each orange with 8 cloves, and bake them whole in a slow oven (300F, I’m guessing) for 1 hour. Place them in a heated punch bowl and prick them well with a fork. Heat the apple brandy in a saucepan until warm — CAREFUL, especially if you’re using a gas stove — and pour over the oranges; sprinkle with the sugar. While warming the brandy, heat the cider to almost boiling. Take 1/2 cup of the cider and mix the remaining spices in it, then set it aside. Carefully light the brandy — I like to use a sugar cube soaked with a bit of the brandy, place it in the bowl of a long-handled spoon, light it and then stand back while placing the burning cube in the boozy punch. Let it burn for a few seconds, then add the hot cider to extinguish the flames; stir in the cup of spiced cider. You can keep it warm in a chafing dish or on the stove (I’d imagine a crockpot would work, if somewhat lacking in pizzazz). Serves 24.

Farmer's Bishop

Northern Spy

Now that the copyright-flogging, spam-blogging leeches of the Internet have officially entered the cocktail-blog realm — and my apologies for being cryptic, but if you have no idea what I’m talking about, you’re one of the lucky ones — I thought I should follow suit and start stealing from myself.

Northern SpyHere’s a drink I posted last Friday over at Serious Eats that’s worthy of a little more exploration. I was introduced to the Northern Spy a few weeks ago by Murray Stenson, who mixed one for me while I was in my customary clueless mode about what to drink next. The recipe sounded familiar — apple cider, applejack, lemon juice, liqueur (more on that in a minute) — and after refreshing my memory with the help of my good friend Google, I realized that Erik had recently posted the recipe on eGullet as part of his Stompin’ Through the Savoy journey, while mixing up some cocktails with San Francisco bartender Josey Packard at Alembic.

I had the good fortune to meet Josey last month while in San Francisco, and while I had only one drink at Alembic — the fault for which I lay on the residual Bourbon & Branch-induced hangover I was traveling with at the time — it was obvious that Josey knew her stuff. The Northern Spy just drives that point home: perfectly suited for late autumn and early winter, this drink is a match made for Thanksgiving. Josey says she serves this at her own family gatherings, and I’ll be putting together a round or two on Thursday, partially to enjoy the drink’s rich flavor but also to play with a few variations.

Josey’s recipe calls for using apricot brandy for flavor and sweetness (she even makes her own, macerating a pound of dried apricots in 750ml of VS or better brandy for a few days). I’ve used a couple of the better commercial versions out there — Rothman & Winter Orchard Apricot and Giffard Abricot du Roussillon — with fantastic results. She also says the Northern Spy works great with the royale treatment — topping the cocktail with an ounce or so of chilled champagne — which I’m definitely going to have to try this week.

But during my first introduction to the drink at Zig Zag, Murray pulled out a bottle of house-made pimento dram and used that in place of the apricot brandy; this swapped the elegant fruitiness of the drink for a deep, mellow allspice tone that really emphasized the Northern Spy’s autumnal character. Then tonight, just for laughs, I broke out the bottle of Giffard Ginger of the Indies liqueur and substituted that for the apricot, giving the drink an aura of spicy brightness.

(And since I’m horsing around with the recipe, you’ll note from the photo that I tried substituting the Clear Creek Apple Brandy — the two-year-old stuff, not the eight-year-old Eau de Vie de Pomme — for the applejack, with pleasant results.)

Josey’s got a great drink here, whether made her original way with the apricot or with the allspice or ginger variations. If you’re looking for a Thanksgiving drink — or holiday cocktail, or just regular autumn tipple — the Northern Spy is a good one to roll out.

Northern Spy (created by Josey Packard, Alembic, San Francisco)

  • 2 ounces applejack
  • 1 ounce fresh apple cider (flash-pasteurized is okay, but no preservatives!)
  • 1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice
  • 1/4 - 1/2 ounce apricot brandy, to taste, depending on brand*

Shake well with ice, strain into chilled cocktail glass that’s been rimmed with cinnamon sugar. Top with champagne, if you like (be sure to goose up the sweetness a little to compensate for the extra acidity), and for the holiday go ahead and garnish with a cranberry.

* or pimento dram, or ginger liqueur, or ……

Applejack Old Fashioned

This one’s promoted from the comments section on the Applejack Rabbit

Right after I gushed about how Misty Kalkofen had turned me on to a few new applejack cocktails, Misty chimed in and idly mentioned that she’s been mixing up “a ton of Applejack Old Fashioneds using maple syrup and Fee Brothers Whiskey-Barrel Aged Bitters (eschewing the fruit, of course).”

Now, Misty, you can’t just drop a drink mention like that and expect me not to try it. After all, I’m now a certified applejack fiend, and as for the Fee’s Whiskey-Barrel Aged Aromatic Bitters — well, anything made with that ambrosial concoction is destined for my gullet in short order.

So, I tried it — and so should you (the rest of you, that is — I’m sure Misty has already tapped one or two). As with the potent bunny, the marriage of applejack and maple works brilliantly in an Old Fashioned (though since maple syrup is more concentrated, sugar-wise, than ordinary simple syrup, you’ll probably want to dial back the dose a notch). And those deep, chewy notes of cinnamon and cardamom in the Fee’s bitters brings it all together.

Applejack Old Fashioned a la Green Street

In an Old Fashioned glass, build:

  • 1 tsp (or to taste) real maple syrup
  • 2 dashes Fee Brothers Whiskey Barrel Aged Aromatic Bitters*
  • 2 ounces Laird’s Applejack

Give a little stir, a big chunk or two of ice, another little stir, then garnish if you like.

* If you can’t find the barrel-aged bitters, then Fee’s Old Fashioned Aromatic Bitters will do (or, Angostura in a pinch). But really — and I haven’t harped on this quite enough — the Whisky Barrel Aged Bitters is an exceptionally fine product. If you can’t find it where you live, give the good folks at Fee’s a call and see if you can order some — they’re really worth the effort.

Applejack Rabbit

ImbibeWhat with all the not-posting I’ve been doing lately, I’ve let the first few weeks of September pass without mentioning that the latest issue of Imbibe is out. The September/October issue was a two-fer for me, with somewhat related articles on applejack and eau de vie.

I’ll get to an eau de vie post soon, but I wanted to mention that I had a lot of fun working on “Golden Delicious,” the applejack article in the Elements department. Not only did I get to pull out my trusty bottle of Laird’s and walk through a few old cocktail manuals in search of applejack drinks I hadn’t tried, but I had the good fortune to interview Misty Kalkofen, who tends bar at Green Street in Cambridge, Mass., and is a big fan of the spirit (Misty is also active over at LUPEC Boston). Misty suggested a lot of different applejack cocktails that she’s been mixing — one of her originals, the Fort Washington Flip, ran in the magazine — but there were many more great drinks I just couldn’t cram into the available space.

Here’s one I especially liked. The recipe is from David Embury’s The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks, and this drink is somewhat unusual in that it calls for maple syrup as a sweetener. I know some people may write the drink off for that reason alone, but as Embury notes, “Don’t shy away from it. It’s not half bad.”

Applejack Rabbit

  • 1 1/2 ounces applejack
  • 1/4 ounce fresh orange juice
  • 1/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
  • 1/4 ounce maple syrup (the real stuff — don’t put that Log Cabin crap in your drink)

Shake with cracked ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

The man knows his drinks — not half bad, indeed.

Jump Start

I’ve been in a rut. Aside from Mixology Mondays, I haven’t written straight-out about a cocktail since the holidays.

There’s a reason for that, mostly — I’m usually motivated to write about new drinks I’m playing around with and enjoying, but over the past few months those drinks have primarily been things I’ve been working on for an article, and so I keep them to myself until the story comes out; drinks I’ve been playing around with for Tales of the Cocktail-related events, so ditto on keeping them close to the chest; and new drinks I’ve tried out that, well, weren’t really worth going on about. (Plus, your standard, run-of-the-mill too-lazy-to-post factors in there somewhere.) In between, I fall back on the standard comfort-food cocktails, with little variations — I’ve grown really fond of knocking just a few drops of Jade’s Eduouard absinthe into a Rittenhouse Manhattan or an Old Fashioned made with W.L. Weller or Buffalo Trace bourbon, and the drink I continue to be astonished that nobody has added to their bar menu, the Police Gazette Cocktail, remains a soothing standard for those times when I’ve been disappointed by lackluster recipes I’ve taken for a spin.

But it’s time to snap out of it. In getting serious about jump-starting my jaded tastebuds — and with them my enthusiasm for digging up old recipes — I’ve reached for the a volume on my bookshelf that’s unlikely to let me down: The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks. David Embury not only knew his spirits and cocktails backward and forward, but he was also highly opinionated, and not afraid to share his thoughts on a drink with his readers. While relating a recipe, Embury occasionally indulges himself with a backhanded remark that makes it clear, “Your guest may want one of these — but you certainly shouldn’t.”

After flipping around a bit, I settled on this to help get my pistons firing again (I translated Embury’s recipe from parts to ounces):

Honeymoon (a.k.a. Farmer’s Daughter)

  • 2 ounces applejack (I used Laird’s Bonded Apple Brandy)
  • 1/2 ounce lime juice
  • 1/8 (3/4 teaspoon) ounce curacao (Marie Brizard)
  • 1/8 ounce Benedictine

Shake with ice, strain into chilled cocktail glass.

Why this one? It’s been my experience that little touches of Benedictine work wonders for surprising the palate, and right now, mine could use some surprising. Plus, there’s the apple brandy factor — I don’t break out the Laird’s that often, and if nothing else, it’s something different.

And “different” certainly describes this drink. Embury’s taste skews to the dry & tart, so I wound up doubling the liqueurs to about 1 1/2 teaspoons of each to keep the lime juice subdued. Also, Laird’s bonded apple brandy just has a more “apple-ey” taste than does their applejack (though back in Embury’s time, Laird’s applejack was made purely from apples, whereas today the apple distillate is mixed with grain alcohol, so the bonded version may be more in line with what Embury had on his shelf).

The Honeymoon takes a few sips to grow on you, and it’s still a bit wooly around the edges, but it’s an agreeable enough concoction. And when you’ve been in a rut, “agreeable enough” is still pretty good.

UPDATE: Except when it’s not. After clicking on the little “publish” button and sitting back with my Honeymoon, I found its flavor less and less satisfying. By the time I was 3/4 of the way through the drink, I was ready to toss it and give Embury another stab at redemption.

Since I already had the apple brandy out, and still had 1/2 a lime, I decided to play it safe and go with this one:

Supreme

  • 2 ounces apple brandy
  • 1/2 ounce lime or lemon juice
  • 1/4 ounce orgeat
  • dash grenadine

Shake with ice & strain into chilled cocktail glass.

“Play it safe,” because I’m a total sucker for orgeat — I’ll forgive most second-class recipes as long as they give me a little hit of that ethereal almond experience. True, I found it necessary to bump up the orgeat to somewhere around 1/3 ounce, but this one is much more of a winner — the almond and the apple play very nicely together, and the little touch of grenadine adds an additional fruity note, while everybody is kept on their toes by the tartness of the lime.

Honeymoon is over; go for the Supreme.

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