Chuck Taggart is a mighty bitter man. Oh, sure, he’s nice enough on the outside, and chatty and friendly and all that, but when it comes right down to it, “bitter” pretty much describes his state of mind.

Today, anyway — because once again it’s Mixology Monday (chapter 39, for those keeping score), and Mr. Taggart is our host this month. Chuck has somewhat predictably chosen as the topic for this month Amaro — and I say “predictably” for the following reason:

A couple of years ago, when I first met Chuck in person, we were in New Orleans for Tales of the Cocktail. One night, while Chuck, Wes and I were chatting with a group of folks that included Rick and Darcy, Eric Seed approached with his bag of tricks and asked us if we’d like to try a few of his items. We settled into one of the empty conference rooms, and tried out various spirits — a prototype of the St. Elizabeth Allspice Dram, along with some eaux de vie, and a taste of an Eastern European digestif flavored with, most notably, wormwood, that was so potently bitter that I recall the sensation of my eyeballs withdrawing into their sockets as the dry, lingering bitterness coated my tongue and throat. At the time I swore I’d still taste that bitter finish the next morning, and I gazed around the table to see Rick and Darcy holding tight, their faces drawn against the intense bitterness. But not Chuck, however. Chuck, y’see, was smiling.

Anyway, I knew Chuck would reach deep into his bag of bitter tricks for this round of Mixology Monday, but I’ll wave the white flag of surrender before digging into the Malort or the Unicum. Instead of burrowing into the bitter intensity that such spirits provide, I’m going with something lighter, more approachable to the novice, and that’s downright goddamn delicious when mixed with different spirits.

While it had its moment in the mixological sun starting a couple of years ago, Aperol has a sunny crispness and bitter-orange vivaciousness that appeal to the palates of amaro novices and experienced enthusiasts alike. True, craft bartenders have mixed the hell out of this since it made a big push starting around ‘06 or ‘07, but Aperol does wonderful things: it’s an agreeable bitter liqueur for those just starting to explore the category, and its bitter-orange brightness lends spark to cocktails in a way that I can only compare to Amer Picon (though with a lighter biting crispness as compared to Picon’s robust depths of flavor). While not as exotic or rare as many other bitter liqueurs, Aperol is, in my opinion, a vital part of any adventurous liquor cabinet.

As I’ve demonstrated in drinks such as the Camerone and the Theobroma (Picon version), I’m a total sucker for the combination of bitter orange and chocolate. In both of those drinks, I completed the flavor triangle with reposado tequila, which just, oh my god, YES with these flavors, but recently I started thinking about varying from that theme, and taking the orange-chocolate combo in a different direction. Here’s my latest shot at it: a drink I’m calling the Two Birds, as it’s not only my Mixology Monday contribution, but my entry into the Hotel Monteleone Cocktail Contest.

Two Birds

• 2 ounces rye whiskey (preferably baby Sazerac)
• 3/4 ounce Aperol
• 1/2 ounce sweet vermouth
• 1/4 ounce creme de cacao
• 2 dashes Peychaud’s bitters

Stir well with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Twist a piece of orange peel over the drink and use as garnish.

It’s potent, it’s rich, it’s orangey, it flirts in the direction of the Boulevardier, and you can just, maybe, barely pick up the taste of chocolate on the finish. If Bittermens Bitters were in distribution, I’d call for the mole bitters as an ingredient, but as it is, I thought it best to enter a drink with ingredients that were easily at hand.

Anyway, that’s what I got this round — head on over to Chuck’s place to see what other drinks have been mixed for this month’s Mixology Monday.

Tags: Drinks, Mixology Monday, Rye by Paul
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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
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There are several essential rules everyone should know when navigating the contemporary world of bars, cocktails and mixology:

1. If Chris Hannah at Arnaud’s French 75 bar offers to make you something he’s been working on, don’t ask questions — just say yes.
2. If you step into Flatiron Lounge or Clover Club and find the bar absolutely packed on a weekend night, don’t complain that the drinks won’t be up to par because the place is so busy. You’ll be served a cocktail so unerringly perfect that you’ll feel ashamed for even having thought such a thing.
3. Rule #1 applies to pretty much every craft bartender you’ll come across, but really, Chris rocks.
4. If Jeff Morgenthaler asks you to pull his finger, don’t.
5. Never, ever underestimate what Daniel Shoemaker has in store for you.

Every time I walk into Teardrop Lounge in Portland — or recently, when Daniel was guest bartending at Vessel in Seattle — I almost expect to hear Barry White on the house stereo system and to see Daniel wearing a smoking jacket and an Ascot, sprinkling rose petals on top of the bar and preparing to romance the palates of his guests while their taste buds giggle in anticipation.

Now that you have that visual in your mind, let’s get down to one of the first drinks I was served at Teardrop, and that I’ve ordered (I think — things get kind of hazy, for obvious reasons) every time I’ve been back.

Unlike many of Daniel’s drinks, the Empyrean can actually be recreated at home, without starting the preparation process several months in advance in order to make the bitters, tinctures and other specialized house ingredients that work their way into so many of Teardrop’s drinks. Rich from the amaro and maraschino and with a bracing smokiness from the mescal, the Empyrean hits so many parts of the palate in quick succession that the effect would be overwhelming if it didn’t work just so damn well.

I’m typically either too shy, forgetful or tactful to tease recipes out of bartenders; fortunately, Ted Munat has no sense of tact — or of shame, for that matter — and regularly nags bartenders into spilling their professional secrets, which he then publishes for the world (or at least the 500 or so people who receive a copy of the book) to enjoy.

Last summer’s Left Coast Libations (which Ted is following with a newer, expanded, more official version, I’m told) contained Daniel’s recipe for the Empyrean. After knocking off a drink based on Angostura last night, I’m kinda up for something bold; this should do the trick.

Empyrean
(adapted from an original recipe by Daniel Shoemaker)

• 1 1/2 ounces Sazerac 6-year-old rye whiskey
• 1/2 ounce lemon juice
• 1/2 ounce Ramazzotti
• 1/2 ounce Del Maguey Chichicapa Mezcal (I subbed Los Danzantes, as it’s what I had on hand)
• 1/4 ounce Luxardo Maraschino (I used Maraska, for reasons ditto)

Shake well with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Flame an orange peel over the top of the drink 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: Drinks, Rye, Thirty in 30 by Paul
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I just realized I have no real way to categorize this drink, other than to start a new category titled “Holy Hell.”

I read about this drink in March on Lauren’s blog at Drink Boston, and on Frederic’s blog at Cocktail Virgin Slut, and both times I recall thinking, “That sounds awesome, but scary. I’m not sure whether I should mix one or run away.” Tonight, after browsing my drinks list in search of a suitable 30/30 post, I came across the Trinidad Sour again, and realized that no matter how fast you run, you’re never going to escape the perverse appeal of a drink that contains a full ounce of bitters.

While it’s big news among the cocktail crowd in Boston, the Trinidad Sour is actually the creation of Giuseppe Gonzalez, a bartender at Clover Club in Brooklyn (and starting this week, apparently, at Dutch Kills in Queens). An inversion of the standard cocktail formula, the Trinidad Sour tries to take the edge off the mighty ounce of Angostura by hitting it with an equal amount of orgeat, and then poking it with a dose of lemon juice and a half-ounce of Rittenhouse rye just to keep the bitters distracted enough so they don’t take your arm off at the elbow. Lauren describes the taste as being like a medicinal Sweet Tart, and I can understand that comparison; deeply garnet, the drink has the appearance and aroma of cherries, but the flavor is fruity and dense, with an aggressive yet approachable bitterness that not even an ounce of orgeat can contain.

I’ll be damned if this isn’t one of the most complex and intriguing — not to mention counterintuitive — cocktails I’ve ever had. I’m really into this one, and I can see breaking this out for guests just to blow their minds, as well as turn them on to something new. Give it a shot and let me know what you think.

Trinidad Sour

• 1 ounce Angostura bitters
• 1 ounce orgeat
• 3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 ounce Rittenhouse 100-proof rye (can sub Wild Turkey 101)

Combine in a cocktail shaker and shake well with ice. Strain into chilled coupe, and stand back.

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: Drinks, Rye, Thirty in 30 by Paul
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A few days ago, while covering the Diamondback, I mentioned the natural relationship that exists between the rich flavors of rye whiskey and apple brandy. Here’s another excellent drink in the same vein, except with a different partner for the whiskey: the Saratoga Cocktail.

Essentially a Manhattan that’s had half of the whiskey swapped out for cognac, which gives the drink a layer of posh lusciousness just beneath the whiskey’s spicy edge, the Saratoga is another booze-forward old timer dating back to at least the 1880s (and where would I be without Dave Wondrich’s Imbibe! to fill me in on all these little details?).

As with the Diamondback and most other rye-centric drinks I can think of, you’re very well served if you choose to use a potent 100-proof or higher rye such as the Rittenhouse bonded or the Wild Turkey 101. And while a fairly pedestrian mixing cognac will get you there, aim for as good of a VSOP as your wallet or conscience will allow. (And while most cognacs on the market fall well below the recommended whiskey’s level of alcoholic firepower, there’s a 106-proof “Force 53″ VSOP from Louis Royer that should help level the playing field; I have a bottle on the way, and I’m curious to see how it plays out.) For a spirit-centric drink as this, the Carpano Antica vermouth is pretty much the best thing you can do.

Dale DeGroff has been recommending Sazeracs made with half rye / half cognac for years; for tonight, when I’m again with a hankering for something old-timey and booze-forward, the Saratoga is taking care of me extraordinarily well.

Saratoga Cocktail

• 1 ounce rye whiskey
• 1 ounce cognac
• 1 ounce sweet vermouth
• 2 dashes Angostura bitters

Stir well with cracked ice, strain into chilled cocktail glass. Twist a lemon peel over the drink 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, Rye, Thirty in 30 by Paul
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