File this under “delayed reaction.”

I first read about the Boulevardier in the spring, when Dr. Cocktail did a lovely writeup about it in Imbibe. I distinctly remember reading the column and thinking, “hmm…gotta give that a try when I’m in a Campari mood.” I turned the page, and immediately lost the drink somewhere in the murky reaches of my brain.

Fast forward to last night. Sitting at the bar at Zig Zag, staring at an empty coaster where a full cocktail glass should be, I eventually looked at Murray and said “Rye?” with a shrug. This is what he came back with, and I thought, “Good god, what have I been missing!”

Okay, the recipe calls for bourbon, but hey, what’s a little corn - rye substitution between friends? Doc credits this drink to Harry McElhone, who wrote it up in Barflies and Cocktails — which shall henceforth be known as “one of those rare books I never see for sale, and couldn’t afford to buy if I ever came across” — and notes its similarity to a Negroni (swap the whiskey for some gin and, ta-da!), while also noting that it predates published recipes for the Negroni by a good 20 years. It’s also pretty close in spirit to another rye/Campari concoction called the Old Pal, but the Boulevardier has, in my estimation, much more charm.

If only I were to luck into a copy of Barflies and Cocktails so easily.

Boulevardier

• 1 1/2 ounces bourbon (or rye)
• 1 ounce Campari
• 1 ounce sweet vermouth

Stir with cracked ice & strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry, or a lemon twist, or an orange slice, or a copy of Barflies and Cocktails wrapped in a manila envelope with my address on the outside.

Tags: Bourbon, Drinks, Rye by Paul
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It’s here.

The rain started Sunday, less than 24 hours after I noticed that the old-fashioned globe lightpost in front of our house was becoming surrounded by a corona of red-and-yellow maple leaves. As I waited outside with my son for the school bus this morning, the first leaf, a scout, dropped from the tree and settled onto our thick green patch of yard.

Even though we’re still a few days from autumn’s official opening bell, the season is already here in Seattle, and here at the Cocktail Chronicles that means one (okay, many) things: it’s time to put away the tall, minty drinks of summer and start snuggling closer to the whiskey and absinthe of fall.

Given that probably 90 percent of the fizzy drinks I consume are enjoyed in the narrow window of Seattle’s summer (and that probably nine of the remaining 10 percent is accounted for by beer), having a Mixology Monday that focuses on Fizz (as host Gabriel has chosen) take place just as autumn is coming onto the scene left me a bit befuddled. As the days shorten, I lose my taste for sparkly coolers, and even champagne cocktails don’t seem quite as enticing. As recently as this morning, I was still undecided, and for a moment I thought I might have to do a counterintuitive run on a Cuba Libre, simply because I think there’s an interesting story attached to it.

Then I remembered the Morning Glory.

If the typical collins or highball seems too summery to my season-shifting palate, then the answer could be to run with the spirits that, for me, are as much a part of autumn as are sun breaks and leaf-clogged gutters, and the Morning Glory Fizz seems to be an excellent candidate.

Please excuse me while I geek out for a minute (and feel free to skip down to the recipes): I’m not sure how or when this drink originated, but the earliest reference I’ve found is in George Kappeler’s Modern American Drinks, from 1895. It seems fairly straightforward: Scotch, lemon juice, sugar and a touch of absinthe, fortified with an egg white and brought to life with a little effervescence. Served short and without ice, the Morning Glory isn’t meant to be savored — instead, as the name implies, this drink is designed to quickly and efficiently deglaze the brain after a long night of revelry. Ordered in a mumble while still wincing from the daylight and meant to be consumed before the bartender has returned with your change, the Morning Glory Fizz isn’t recreational — it’s medicinal, as evinced by the description in Cocktails: How to Mix Them by “Robert” [Vermiere] (1922): “That will give one an appetite and quieten the nerves.”

The Morning Glory must have had quite a run. It appears (with subtle variations in recipe, mainly involving the quantity of lemon and/or lime juice, the quantity of absinthe and, occasionally, the type of whiskey, though Scotch is the big favorite) in books ranging from Albert Stevens Crockett’s Old Waldorf Bar Days (1931), “Cocktail Bill” Boothby’s World Drinks and How to Mix ‘Em (1934 — my edition, anyway), Lucius Beebe’s The Stork Club Bar Book (1946) and David Embury’s The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks (1948).

Seems pretty easy, right? Hold on — as with any drink that enjoys a certain popularity, some offshoot — whether related by ingredients or by simple coincidence — is bound to crop up, and this is no exception. Keep the key characters of whisk(e)y and absinthe, decrease the fizzy water to a splash or a squirt, replace the egg white and the citrus with some curacao and a dash or three of bitters, drop the “Fizz” from the name, and you find a Morning Glory, with similar recipes in Gordon’s Cocktail & Food Recipes from 1934, Baker’s Gentleman’s Companion from 1939 and Burke’s Complete Cocktail and TastyBite Recipes from 1941.

To make it even more confusing, those great category straddlers Patrick Gavin Duffy and Harry Craddock include recipes for both drinks in The Standard Bartender’s Guide (1934) and Savoy Cocktail Book (1930), respectively. By 1947 things are really off the rails when Bartender’s Guide … by Trader Vic features three Morning Glory cocktails (two have no resemblance to any of the other Morning Glory drinks I’ve mentioned — one is a truly blech-worthy mix of gin, lime juice, a whole egg and green creme de menthe, a version that also appears in Baker’s book), along with a Morning Glory Daisy and our old friend, the Morning Glory Fizz. Seeing that all bets have been off for quite some time, Gary Regan enters the fray in 1991 with The Bartender’s Bible, which features a Morning Glory composed of vodka, cream, dark creme de cacao and nutmeg.

Which brings me back to whiskey and absinthe, thank god. Given that the two primary recipes — those for the Morning Glory Fizz and the Morning Glory — both contain these two ingredients, and that each of them also calls for varying degrees of fizz, the only sensible thing this Mixology Monday is to tuck into both drinks. Considering the day I’ve had, I welcome the task.

Morning Glory Fizz (adapted from Modern American Drinks, by George Kappeler)

• 1 1/2 ounces Scotch whisky [I used Famous Grouse]
  
• juice of 1/2 a lemon [3/4 ounce or so]
• half a tablespoonful sugar [reduce to 1 tsp, to taste]
• 2 dashes absinthe [Lucid]
• white of one egg

Shake thoroughly with ice, strain into a fizz glass and fill with seltzer.

Wow … for a breakfast drink, the old Mimosa’s got nothing on this. Much lighter in taste than I’d expected, and with a heady foam (I shook the hell out of the mix without ice, then again with cracked ice) that makes it both gentle and robust. I can see our forefathers — the lushes, that is — knocking these back on a bristly a.m., to sweep the cobwebs out of the mind and the malice out of the soul. Seriously, I can see serving this to adventurous guests at brunch just to get the conversational ball rolling.

Morning Glory (adapted from Charles H. Baker’s The Gentleman’s Companion)

• 1 jigger rye or bourbon [decrease to 1 oz. Rittenhouse bonded]
• 1 teaspoon gomme syrup
• 1 teaspoon curacao
• 1 jigger cognac [decrease to 1 oz.]
• 3 dashes orange bitters or Angostura [The Bitter Truth orange bitters]
• 1 teaspoon absinthe

Says Baker: Mixing technique seems torn between stirring in a bar glass with ice, straining into a whisky glass, and adding a little seltzer topped off with a twisted lemon peel — or stirring in the same bar glass, and turning into an old fashioned glass with a lump of ice, a squirt of club soda, and a twist of peel … Some sane folk merely shake with ice and a jigger of soda or seltzer. The latter works more suddenly than the more diluted drink … Absinthe is difficult to recommend to suit others — increase or decrease to taste. Pernod Veritas will do. [My answer: stir with ice, strain into whisky glass, add a little seltzer and a twist of lemon.]

Gadzooks, that’s tasty, too. I probably added an ounce or so of seltzer (just a short burst from the siphon), which lightens up and saves what might have been a too heavy and aggressively flavored cocktail. The curacao and the absinthe also complement each other surprisingly well, and the drink has a robust fruitiness that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Another one to keep in mind.

So, there you have it — whisk(e)y, absinthe, fizzy water and assorted characters. Head on over to Cocktail Nerd to see what everyone else came up with this Mixology Monday.

Tags: Absinthe, Brandy, Mixology Monday, Rye, Scotch by Paul
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Okay, I’m not done talking about Tales of the Cocktail yet.

But since several other booze bloggers are still recapping the different drinks & events, I won’t feel like a freakin’ idiot by still going on about it. Besides, fate knocked, in a way, today, and I just couldn’t let the opportunity to mix up a new and interesting drink pass by.

Note, this was a fairly small appearance by fate — no near-death experiences; no weird synchronicity; no stirring omens. No, this was just what you get on a normal Saturday afternoon in my house, when I came home from grocery shopping — where I made the impulse purchase of a bunch of fresh mint (hey, it’s summer, it’s the weekend — there’s gotta be something I’ll want to drink with mint) — and walked into the kitchen to find this: fresh blackberries, right from the farmer’s market.

My wife, of course, bought these with the idea of giving them to our kids as a breakfast treat; I, on the other hand, immediately thought of ways I could mix them into a much more grown-up treat for myself, one that preferably involved some high-octane hooch.

I didn’t have to think long, considering that both Jamie and Marleigh covered a blackberry, mint and rye concoction that Jamie learned about at Tales of the Cocktail. Jamie picked up the recipe for this drink at the Saturday morning Rye Whiskey panel, which coincided with the Cocktails and the Blogosphere panel I was moderating. In other words, Jamie ditched his fellow bloggers’ presentation for the one on rye, so he’s dead to me now, but for the moment I’m going to forget about that and poach a drink from his blog.

This drink was introduced by Allen Katz, who says he retrieved this from the Baltimore Country Club, which documented its existence around 1898. Considering that fate made sure I had all the ingredients on hand, I thought it’d be a good idea to put one together. Considering this has rye, mint, blackberries and ginger beer (I broke out my last bottle of Blenheim’s for the gig), what’s not to like?

Black & Tan

• 5 blackberries
• 8 mint leaves
• 1/4 ounce fresh lime juice
• 1/4 ounce simple syrup
• 2 ounces Sazerac rye
• ginger beer

Muddle the blackberries, mint, simple syrup and lime juice in a mixing glass. Add the rye, and shake well with ice. Strain into an ice-filled Collins glass (you’ll want to use a mesh tea strainer), top with ginger beer and garnish with two whole blackberries.

(Oh, relax — I left plenty of blackberries for the kids. Unless I decide to have a second round … )

Tags: Drinks, Rye by Paul
7 Comments »

The Los Angeles Times. The Wall Street Journal. The New York Times. Imbibe magazine. Now, add the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette to the list of publications that have jumped on the “rye is back!” bandwagon.

This is fitting, though, considering that western Pennsylvania was the source of so much rye whiskey in the years before it fell from grace. In today’s story, reporter Bill Toland explores the region’s historic connection with the spirit, and looks at how present-day whiskey fiends are going bezonkers over bottles of Rittenhouse, Michter’s and Sazerac. A couple of details are fumbled a bit, but only hardcore booze geeks like me — and, if you’re reading this, probably you — will notice or give a hoot about it; otherwise, there’s plenty of solid information here.

To tell the story, Toland talks to whiskey historians John and Linda Lipman and to Lew Bryson, managing editor of Malt Advocate. While working on the story, Toland also called some of the finest minds in whiskey and mixology; unable to reach any of them, he instead had to settle for talking to me.

Head on over here to read Toland’s story, and to see how good I am at making an ass of myself while talking to the media.

Tags: Rye by Paul
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God, what a couple of weeks that just was. Between hellacious work demands and the decline of an ailing, elderly cat, I’ve had precious few minutes to spend to myself, or — you might notice — typing away at this contraption.

But hey, the deadlines are behind me, the cat has briefly rallied and look — it’s Mixology Monday. Not too bad for the beginning of the week.

Another time when I had such a bruising stretch of calendar, I pacified myself at the end with a little tiki sledgehammer known as the Tahitian. But that was several MxMos back, when the theme was Exotic drinks and a rum-wielding relaxation machine like that was perfectly in accordance with the rules. This time around, though, the host is Rick over at Martini Lounge, and for his round Rick has decided to have us all drink Shooters.

This is the point where I have to admit I was stymied. Usually when a MxMo theme is proposed, I have a few ideas that spring to mind right away — either drinks I’ve had and enjoyed, drinks I’ve been meaning to try, or styles of drinks I’ve been meaning to experiment with. Shooters didn’t really fit any of those categories; aside from images of Pousse Cafes I’ve seen in books and on the Web, and the sole, unsatisfying Kamikaze someone ordered me on my 21st birthday — and, by the way, just no — I had no idea what to do.

Fortunately I wasn’t alone — Erik from eGullet posed a similarly clueless inquiry to Rick, who responded: “A shot is really anything in a shot glass or a small glass that is pretty much one gulp. That’s probably the easiest explanation. A Sex on the Beach is a large mixed drink, but an Oatmeal Cookie is a shot. As an example.” Now, usually when I’m too stupid to figure out a drink, I’ll either hit the books, or go ask a local expert — hey, Murray! — but as luck would have it, shooters are pretty scarce in the books in my collection, and Murray — well, ask him for a shooter and you’ll likely receive a polite cough; that’s why I drink there. I could, of course, go to another bar in town, one that specializes in such things, but I’m a balding guy with two kids and a 40th birthday roaring down the pike. I go through life feeling ridiculous enough without having to sit on a barstool in the U District, asking a 22-year-old bartender for things that make me blush to mention. Again, just no.

So, I cheated.

Technically, this probably isn’t a shot, if for no other reason than there’s likely too much liquid in the glass to get down your gullet in one. You could, of course, split it with someone, and that’d be perfectly fine, so I’ll argue that it fits the intent of the theme. With that in mind I offer the official shooter of the Cocktail Chronicles: the Bone.

A David Wondrich original, the Bone is actually kind of fun, in a rabid pit bull kind of way. And the reason I think it fits — albeit none too cleanly — in the neighborhood of “shooters” is because of its brutish character. With a full measure of double-ought whiskey, prepped with citrus and sugar and fuelled with fiery spice, the Bone is not something you want to linger over before dinner. No, it’s the kind of drink that demands to be finished in a few quick gulps, leaving you gasping after each sharp swallow while suppressing a slight whimper. Afterward, you’ll feel flushed with the pleasant heat of liquor and spice, and oddly in the mood to head out and take in a boxing match. Either that or a demolition derby.

Okay, so it doesn’t have technicolor layers, it doesn’t taste like a dessert and it has nothing in common with a sex act (unless its the kind that leaves you needing an extensive regimen of antibiotics). I suppose you could concoct something lewd out of the name, though since you asked, it comes from the (defunct) Chickenbone Cafe in Brooklyn, where this was the house drink (so I’m told). Is it a shooter? I’m not sure — the Bone isn’t something I want to argue with too much. But, it’s the closest you’ll ever find around here.

The Bone

(from Killer Cocktails, by David Wondrich)

• 2 ounces Wild Turkey 101-proof rye [it’s also great with the Wild Turkey 101-proof bourbon –ed.]
  
• 1 teaspoon fresh lime juice
• 1/2 teaspoon rich simple syrup [2 parts demerara sugar heated in 1 part water until dissolved, and cooled]
• 3 dashes Tabasco sauce

Shake with ice and strain into small tumbler or large shot glass. Don’t let it linger.

Once I get motivated enough, I plan to mix up a batch of Charles H. Baker’s Hellfire Bitters, and give them a spin in this in lieu of Tabasco. Should I have any throat lining left after that experiment, I’ll report back here.

Tags: Bourbon, Drinks, Mixology Monday, Rye by Paul
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