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–
I’ve been sitting on this recipe for a while.
As anyone with an occasional (or frequent) boilermaker habit can tell you, bourbon loves the hell out of a cold, crisp beer, and as we head into mid-July, few beers are crisper or more appealing than a decent weisse. For this drink, I used Maker’s Mark (wheated bourbon, wheat beer…) and Ayinger Brau-Weisse for the beer. I’m not sure if I wound up trampling all over Kevin’s original recipe for the drink, but I’m pretty pleased with the result: the gently sweet fruitiness of the marmalade is a great bridge between the richness of the bourbon and the flowery aromatics of the beer, and the mixture is simple enough that you don’t feel anything is going over the top.
A version of this drink made its way onto the cocktail menu at Clover Club a while back, and that came out in Dale DeGroff’s
Before I get to the recipe, an explanation: I originally made this with Jamie Boudreau’s replica of Amer Picon, which is absolutely delicious, but I’m not using it here — because frankly, it’s a pain to make and keep around. For this round, I’m substituting Punt e Mes, which will bring a bitter note without the sweetness of a liqueur; if you try this drink and it’s not quite to your liking, I’d suggest substituting Amer Picon or a replica (if you have it), or Ramazzotti with an extra dash of orange bitters. For the vanilla element, I’d initially tried using Navan in a tequila-based cocktail, but that was getting too sweet and fussy; instead, for that big vanilla flavor without added sugar, I went with Angostura 1919 rum for the base spirit, since it’s the most intensely vanilla-ey rum I can think of. (Plus, it’s my firmly held opinion that there are WAY too few spirit-forward drinks that use rum as a base — c’mon, it’s delicious, we’ve gotta figure out how to use it more.) With those two together, it was just a matter of knocking in the other ingredients to get a drink that features the flavors of bitter orange, chocolate, Chartreuse and vanilla, yet isn’t tooth-achingly sweet. Here y’go–




