On my list of things I ignored blogging about in 2009 was this: Drinking Lessons at the Sorrento.

That’s too bad; this is a great series of events for Seattle-area cocktail people, and the session I attended in November – with Alex Day and Toby Cecchini – was not only wonderfully done, but resulted in me enjoying some of the better drinks I’ve had in a while, from a Blood and Sand made with Highland Park to Toby’s father’s take on the gin and tonic, which was probably the best version of this drink I’ve ever had.

Here’s another that’s been stuck in my mind for a couple of months, and has been turning up in my cocktail shaker from time to time: the Boukman Daiquiri.

Alex introduced this drink as a sort of hybrid between the world of classic punches, and the more contemporary world of tiki-style drinks. Served at the Franklin Mortgage & Investment Co. in Philadelphia, the Boukman Daiquiri takes the classic daiquiri recipe and tweaks it in a couple of ways that have a huge bearing on its outcome.

First, the standard base of white rum (Alex recommends Flor de Cana, for a damn good reason) is pruned back to an ounce and a half, and the rest is replaced with cognac (Hine is recommended, but fat chance finding that in Washington state; I used Remy VSOP), which puts the drink in that classic brandy / rum combo set of drinks that includes some of the horse-and-buggy era punches, as well as rich wintery things like Tom & Jerry, eggnog and the like.

The second tweak has to do with the sweetener; instead of standard sugar or simple syrup, the drink uses cinnamon syrup, which likewise is in the tradition of using spice in classic punches, but is perhaps closer to the use of cinnamon in tiki-style drinks from the 1930s and onward. I’ve been making my own cinnamon syrup based on the recipe in Sippin’ Safari (briefly: mix one cup each sugar and water over medium heat until dissolved, crunch up a few cinnamon sticks and simmer for a couple of minutes, then let it steep, covered, for three hours before filtering), but tonight I tried the drink with my brand-new bottle of Trader Tiki Cinnamon Syrup, which is assertively rich with cinnamon, but also heavier in sweetness, so you may wish to tip the syrup level back a notch if you’re using Blair’s stuff.

A classic daiquiri is crisp and light, and while these changes add richness and complexity, the drink still has that bright snap to it that makes it really appealing.

Boukman Daiquiri

• 1 1/2 ounces white rum (use one with some flavor, like Flor de Cana)
• 1/2 ounce cognac
• 3/4 ounce lime juice
• 1/2 ounce cinnamon syrup

Shake well with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a small lime wedge if so inclined.

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Rum by Paul
4 Comments »

It’s late, I’ve had a busy day, and by all sane reckonings I should be relaxing on the couch with a cocktail before turning in for a good night’s sleep. But no, it’s Mixology Monday, with the theme Money Drinks, hosted by Kevin Langmack at Beers in the Shower. I’m almost tempted to miss this round, considering how knackered I am right now, but considering that Kevin’s a friend — plus, as a local bartender here in Seattle, he has the opportunity to lace my Manhattan with Drano should I screw him over on this one — I’ve decided to take my drink to the desk and, above all else, type fast.

Kevin explains “Money Drinks” thusly:

I feel a “Money” drink is something you can put in front of anyone, regardless of tastes or distastes about the spirits involved. Come up with a drink or a list based on spirits about drinks that would appeal to anyone. example: turning someone onto a Corpse Reviver #2 when they like lemon drops.

Unfortunately I was incapable of paying attention long enough to realize what Kevin meant, so I suggested my own, ultimately confusing take on the theme:

Drinks that you upgrade to the ne plus ultra: cocktails that for whatever reason (holiday, birthday, old friends come to visit, or just because you feel like it) you upgrade to superior; for example, taking your normal Sazerac with Rittenhouse and Herbsaint and, for a special occasion, turning it into a supreme-o Sazerac by breaking out the Thomas Handy Rye and the Jade Edouard absinthe. Due to the higher cost involved, and the spectacular results that should (hopefully) be found in the glass, this could also qualify as a “Money Drink”.

So which category does my drink fall into? I dunno, maybe neither, though if I spin it hard enough, both. Either way, it’s a good drink to discover if you haven’t yet, and it sounded good at the time, so….

When I was but a wee tippler, and my knowledge of different spirits was based mainly on what I’d read in books rather than any firsthand experience, I thought brandy sounded absolutely grand. You always read about it in English novels and Christmas stories, a tot of brandy to revive someone who’s been chilled to the bone, or a joyful brandy punch to celebrate the holidays. When you think about it, brandy sounds great, and I was imagining the stuff tasted as agreeable as marzipan and gingerbread, and was as satisfying to sip as a cup of hot chocolate.

Heh. WRONG! I still recall that first encounter, when I was…oh, hell, I dunno, probably 18 or so. Brandy had little interest for me when I first started sampling bottles in my parents’ liquor cabinet, so I put off trying it until one Christmas, when my dad and I were visiting some family friends who were generous with their liquor. My father must have had a “What the hell, it’s Christmas” moment when the bottles came out, and while it was ostensibly presented for the purposes of lacing our Lucerne eggnog from Safeway — it was the ’80s, I was young, don’t judge me — I tapped a dose on its own into my mug so I could finally see what all the fuss was about.

Now, granted, I think this was E&J brandy — or as Jim Meehan referred to it at Tales last summer, “Easy Juice” — so perhaps it wasn’t the best introduction to the spirit, but gaaaaaaahhhhh….that was the end of my sentimental brandy fixation.

My point? Oh, yeah — brandy can be hard to get a grip on, but it doesn’t have to be. Throughout my cocktail-blog career — and I’m using “career” ironically, because my net earnings on this thing over the past five years have been about $8 — I’ve had a difficult time with brandy. Difficult, because my budget doesn’t allow for buying the stuff I’ve found I really like, so usually with brandy cocktails, I’m mixing with the $27 bottle of Chalfonte — I SAID DON’T JUDGE ME. Until, that is, I find a drink I really like, in which case I go about as whole hog as you can get on a freelance writer’s salary.

The East India Cocktail is one such drink that motivates me. I first sampled it out of Ted Haigh’s Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails, and wasn’t impressed the first time around. Reasons? Aside from the crappy cognac I was using, it had to do with sugar — in short, this sucker (as written)  is about 4:1 booze to liqueur / syrup, with nothing but a thin dash of Angostura standing between me and the spectre of tooth decay.

Last summer, for whatever reason, I returned to the drink, this time with a bottle of Hennessey VSOP — and yes, I know, I know, I went with a major brand and there are plenty of cognacs out there at the same price point, but it was what I had on hand, so spare me the snide comments — and after employing a delicate hand with the syrup & liqueur, I was floored — damn, is that a good drink. Sweet? Yes, somewhat, but not too bad if you pull back a little on the pours, and with a cognac that’s comfortable in its own skin, the drink is a lightly accessorized advertisement for the good (or at least, decent) stuff. Since then I’ve tried the drink with Pierre Ferrand Ambre and Martell VSOP (if you have complaints about my brand selection, allow me to refer you to the Washington State Liquor Control Board), with roughly equally pleasing results.

So, a money drink? Mmmmm, I guess…with a delicate hand it’s pleasantly sweet without descending into cloying-ville, which should hook any sucker on the power of brandy cocktails, and to maximize the effect it’s good to aim just a little higher than the bargain VSOPs or the standard-issue VS’s — don’t go crazy, of course, but a decent VSOP will make this drink sing.

Anyway. With the standard caveat that there are several drinks out there under this name, here’s the one I’m appreciating right now:

East India Cocktail

• 3 ounces cognac – aim for VSOP
• 1/2 ounce (or less, to taste) raspberry syrup (I’m using Nutrafruit, from Croatia, which is pretty good; rather than settle for substandard, you should make your own)
• 1/4 oz curacao (or less, to taste)
• 1/4 oz maraschino (or less, to taste)
• 1 dash Angostura bitters

Combine in a mixing glass and stir well with ice for at least 20 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Relax.

Okay? OK! Let’s head over to Kevin’s to see what everyone else is up to this Mixology Monday.

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Mixology Monday by Paul
1 Comment »

It’s still Monday here on the West Coast, which means I’m still on time for this month’s Mixology Monday. Hosted by Chris Amirault and the gang over at eGullet, the theme for this month is “Dizzy Dairy”, which means whatever else you do to your drink, you’d better mix something in it that originated in the vicinity of a farmyard animal’s ass. Wow, soy milk is sounding much more appealing right now.

Anyway, there are considerably few milky-type drinks that I’m fond of, and as luck would have it I’ve blogged about most all of them over the years (how’s it goin’, Ramos Fizz? Hey, Tom & Jerry, see you at Christmas). Open the category to eggs, and okay, now you’re talking, but to keep my MxMo drink in the full spirit of the event, I thought it best to avoid drinks that merely used egg whites, and instead go the full dairy case experience and plop the whole glob of goo in the glass.

Here are a couple of things I tried:

1) Ferneggnog — After a pleasant experience with the Fernet Flip, I thought, “How can you NOT want an eggnog made with Fernet Branca?”

Sadly, though, no. I mixed one this weekend, following the basic eggnog formula passed down over the years: base spirit; sugar; whole egg; and rich milk or cream, all shaken well with ice and garnished with a sprinkle of nutmeg. But while the egg in the Fernet Flip served to lengthen the flavors out, letting the bitter flavor of Fernet recline on the egg’s silky chaise longue of texture, the addition of milk & cream seemed to actually dull the Fernet’s flavor, and the Ferneggnog was — dare I say it, especially for a drink based on Fernet Branca — boring.

Perhaps there’s redemption to be found, but after a few sips I dumped this project down the sink.

Ferneggnog – a sadly failed project

• 2 ounces Fernet Branca
• 1/4 ounce simple syrup
• 1 whole egg
• 1 ounce whole milk
• nutmeg, for garnish

Combine ingredients in shaker and first shake without ice, then fill with ice and shake until frothy. Strain into a goblet and sprinkle with nutmeg.

2) Grown-up Grasshopper: Yes, it’s an em-effin’ Grasshopper — you want to make something of it?

David Wondrich’s contribution to the “Things That Actually Feel Good” piece in the October issue of Esquire contains the Tujaque’s recipe for this venerable piece of green fluff, and that got me thinking: while the cognac-bearing Tujaque’s recipe looks better than most of the other all-liqueur versions I’ve seen (and don’t even remind me of those boxes of Holland House Grasshopper mix that my parents used to break out every time they had a party in the ’70s), it still uses creme de menthe and creme de cacao — two liqueurs that are typically of execrable quality (though there are notable, and usually hard-to-find exceptions). Is it possible to make a decent grown-up (read: less frilly and sugary) version of this drink, using good ingredients?

Let’s try. Starting with the Tujaques recipe, I’m keeping the dose of cognac — hell, I’ll raise the stakes by making it 106-proof cognac, to help keep everyone else in line. In lieu of the standard green creme de menthe, I’ll use the Giffard Menthe Pastille that I picked up in Canada (this liqueur is pretty cool; lighter in texture and much less sugary than other mint liqueurs, it has a clean, crisp, elegant flavor that is close to that of fresh mint — try finding that in a bottle of DeKuyper). And instead of creme de cacao, I’ll use a little cacao-nib tincture, the recipe for which was kindly provided to me by Scott Baird at 15 Romolo in San Francisco for an article I wrote about respectable uses of chocolate in cocktails that ran in yesterday’s San Francisco Chronicle. Toss in your milk (lacking whole milk in the house, I used a mix of low-fat milk and heavy cream), and a drop or two of green food coloring (which is optional, of course, but c’mon — do you really want a brown Grasshopper?), and, well –

Y’know what? This is pretty damn good. I had to tinker with the first attempt, adding a bit more cacao-nib tincture because I’d low-balled it at first, and then a dollop of rich demerara syrup because, ironically, my grown-up Grasshopper was too dry and needed a touch of sugar to help pull everything together.

Will this become a regular? No — but this is a vast improvement on the standard all-liqueur version of the drink, and is much lighter and crisper, with a more resonant and natural mint and chocolate finish, than one made the standard creme de menthes and cacaos that are available. The flavor is lean, clean and crisp, the cognac keeps it joyously boozy, and I don’t feel like I need to brush my teeth after a sip. (To be honest, you could probably make the drink without the dairy component and it might even be better, but that’s for another time.) Damn, there’s some kick in the old Grasshopper yet.

Grown-up Grasshopper

• 1 ounce cognac
• 1/2 ounce Giffard Menthe Pastille liqueur*
• 1/4 ounce cacao-nib tincture**
• 1 dash rich demerara syrup
• 1 ounce whole milk or half-and-half
• 1 drop green food coloring (optional, but c’mon — lighten up)

Combine ingredients in a shaker, fill with ice, give a good hard shake and strain into a chilled glass.

* Good luck finding this — as far as I know, the only place in North America you can purchase Giffard liqueurs is in British Columbia, and the one store I found in Vancouver that carried this had four bottles with a heavy coating of dust on each.

** To make: pour four ounces of roasted cacao nibs (I picked up a bag at Theo here in Seattle) in a jar and cover with six ounces of Rittenhouse 100-proof rye whiskey. Let soak for two weeks, shaking the jar every day. Strain and bottle for use.

So that’s it for September’s round of Mixology Monday — head over to eGullet to see what everybody else got up to this month.

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Mixology Monday by Paul
5 Comments »

In Imbibe!, the drinks book that just keeps on giving more than a year and a half after the first reading, Dave Wondrich notes of the Prescription Julep, “It [...] happens to be the tastiest Mint Julep recipe I know.”

I’ve tested this theory before, found it sound and then moved on, but I’ve pulled out the recipe once again based on a comment Sam Kinsey made at eGullet a while back, regarding the preparation of a Prescription Julep using the Rittenhouse bonded (natch) plus the Louis Royer “Force 53″ VSOP cognac. This sparked something in the murk of my memory: I had read somewhere of such a cognac being released in the U.S., one that pfffted at the typical 80 proof weigh-in for cognacs and instead was bottled at a bulked-up 106 proof — a heavily muscled bodybuilder of a cognac, particularly attractive for use in drinks like this because (as most regular readers surely know, but for those who do not) not only does the alcohol level affect the potency of a spirit, but that higher proof carries a more powerful flavor. To say that I was intrigued my Sam’s comment isn’t even the half of it.

Higher proof whiskies, rums and gins are fairly easy to find nowadays, but a high-octane cognac really grabbed my attention. After ordering a bottle online — what, you think the Washington Liquor Control Board is gonna stock it? — I commenced to try out the Force 53 in a Saratoga and, on Erik Ellestad’s suggestion, a Morning Glory, and was almost in tears at the richness of flavor in this spirit.

Tonight, however, it’s the final shot of 30/30, and I wanted to go out with a drink that’s devastatingly good, so I turned back to the Prescription Julep. I followed Sam’s suggestion of combining the Rittenhouse with the Royer, and to underscore Wondrich’s notation in the recipe, “Cognac and rye whiskey are a marriage made in heaven, the cognac mellowing the rye and the rye adding spice to the cognac.” That pretty much does it right there. I did step off of Wondrich’s recipe at two points, kind of: instead of doing the sugar / water muddle, I used gomme syrup as I have a metric buttload of it and am coming close to pouring it on my pancakes just to free up some space; and I incorporated the flourish, that while not common is certainly kosher when it comes to juleps, of dashing some Jamaican rum atop the finished drink.

I’m rapidly finishing this drink as I type up the post; god, this is lovely. C’mon, play along:

Prescription Julep
adapted from Imbibe!, by David Wondrich

• 1 1/2 ounces strong cognac (don’t worry if you don’t have the Force 53; a decent VSOP will take you where you want to go)
• 1/2 ounce rye whiskey
• 2 tsp. sugar and 1/2 ounce water (or, a couple of teaspoons of simple or gomme, to taste)
• As much mint as you feel you need — 8-10 leaves do me fine

In a tall glass or julep cup, add your sugar & water and stir to mix (or add your syrup and proceed). Very gently press your mint leaves — for the love of all that is good, boozy and holy, do NOT grind them into a paste — and withdraw them if you like, or gently nestle them in the bottom of the glass. Add the cognac and whiskey, give a slight stir (again avoid that impulse to smash the shit out of the leaves — seriously, you’ll thank me for this), then pack the glass with fine-crushed ice. Give a few light stirs with a bar spoon to help raise the frost, add more ice, and festoon with a fresh mint sprig, for aromatics. If you’re feeling extra plush, dash a little Jamaican rum on top of the ice — Appleton Extra worked very nice for me. Straw, please.

I’d tag on some notation that I made it to the finale of the frequently fun but sometimes exasperating and stupid 30/30 project, but it’s a Saturday night, I’m enjoying the last of a fantastic drink and I’m kind of feeling like having some more, so I’ll hold on the ceremonies and folderol until tomorrow. Now, I’m in the mood for something else…..

This drink is part of 30/30, a series of 30 drinks in 30 days — or as much as I can keep up before collapsing in a weary, booze-addled heap.

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Rye, Thirty in 30 by Paul
7 Comments »

– “another Palate-Twister from the Land where the Monkeys Have No Tails.”

As if you couldn’t guess, it’s another drink from Charles H. Baker’s The Gentleman’s Companion.

I always like to turn to Baker for a little inspiration, both of the scribbling sort and of the bibulous type. I’ll spare you my gushings about his faux-Victorian prose stylings (though you should read the conversation I had about Baker with bartender, writer and Baker expert St. John Frizell for Tales Blog about a year ago), and append my admiration of the drinks he covers with the brief notation: “While some of the drinks are good or even great, many of them are odd, if not downright awful.” The Zamboanga “Zeinie” cocktail, while definitely on the list of off-the-beaten-path drinks, falls resolutely into the “good” category.

As Baker describes it, “This drink found its way down through the Islands to Mindanao from Manila, and we found it in the little Overseas Club standing high above the milk-warm waters of the Sulu Sea, on the suggestion of a new friend, just met[.]”

As I describe it: I thought I’d take advantage of the fact that I have homemade pineapple gomme syrup in the house to mix up this cocktail, which I’d meaning to try for some time. Sweetened with maraschino and pineapple syrup, and with a good three dashes of bitters, the Zamboanga has a richness from the cognac that in this context seems unusually exotic — as if the old French brandy was on a South Seas cruise and discovered its inner beach bum, touched up with lime juice and pineapple.

While I might tinker slightly with the recipe — perhaps bumping up the pineapple syrup, which is somewhat faint in this on-the-tart-side cocktail — I consider this a keeper.

Zamboanga “Zeinie” Cocktail
(adapted from Charles H. Baker’s The Gentleman’s Companion)

• 1 1/2 ounces cognac
• 1 teaspoon maraschino liqueur
• juice of 1/2 a lime (about 1/2 ounce)
• 3 dashes fresh pineapple syrup
• 3 dashes Angostura bitters

Shake well with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass; twist a piece of lime peel over the drink — yes, lime peel, ignore those who say it’s gross — and use as garnish.

This drink is part of 30/30, a series of 30 drinks in 30 days — or as much as I can keep up before collapsing in a weary, booze-addled heap.

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Thirty in 30 by Paul
2 Comments »