It’s been a long, busy summer of mostly ignoring this blog, and if left to my own devices I’d likely let the radio silence continue until well after Labor Day. But in response to several inquiries and gentle nudges following the last round of Mixology Monday — a theoretically monthly event that last took place in May — I once again donned my blogging beanie and found a host (or nine) for upcoming events, the first of which is today (at least it’s still today for another half hour or so).

When I put out the call for hosts via Twitter (I’m @cocktailchron, in case you’re wondering), I wasn’t surprised that the first offer came from Lindsey Johnson, who in her day job — if that’s the right term for it — works with the spirits industry as the maven behind Lush Life Productions, and who keeps her social media street cred by not only being a tireless Tweeter (sorry — usually I avoid such new-media lingo, but my amour for alliteration won out) and by participating in social-media focused panel discussions such as the one she joined me on last month at Tales of the Cocktail, but by also publishing the blog, Brown, Bitter and Stirred — which, as luck would have it, is the theme for this month’s MxMo.

While it’s still August, autumn seems to be creeping in early here in the Pacific Northwest, and dark, boozy drinks laced with a little elaborate Italian liqueur are perfectly suited to the next 10 months of mostly unbroken gray. Here’s a drink I was introduced to last fall that I wrote up for the San Francisco Chronicle earlier this year: the Bitter Maestro.

The Bitter Maestro is from Brooke Arthur, who was then at Range and now helms the bar at Prospect in San Francisco. I swung by Range last October on the night before Whiskyfest, to say hi to Brooke and to spend a little time at Range’s small, comfortable bar. With practically no direction from me, Brooke brought over the three things I needed most at 9 o’clock on a Thursday evening: salad, ice cream and a cocktail built on a base of cask-strength whiskey.

Brooke said that the Bitter Maestro was related to a drink from John Deragon at PDT, and while the stump-blaster she poured me had a base of 140-plus-proof Thomas Handy Rye, it also works well with something of a more modest (though still mighty) octane, such as Rittenhouse bonded or Russell’s Reserve Rye. Playing off this spicy base is a small pour of applejack (though Laird’s bonded apple brandy works well, especially if you have a higher-proof rye in the mix), with a little mellowing from Dubonnet rouge and the bitter angle provided by a half-ounce of Amaro Nonino.

In the realm of bitter liqueurs, Nonino is a bit of a pussycat along the lines of Averna, as compared to the rough-trade bitterness found in stuff like Unicum or Fernet Branca, and Nonino’s gentle nip of bitter is a nice counterpoint to the roar of the rye. For a change of pace and to bump up the bitterness a tad, I’ve tried the Maestro with Bonal Gentiane-Quina substituted for the Dubonnet; it dries out the drink a little more (though it doesn’t need it), and gives it a little more back-palate action for those times when the mood takes you there.

Anyway, thanks to Brooke for introducing me to this drink and for sharing the recipe.

Bitter Maestro

• 1 1/2 ounces rye whiskey (go for higher proof)
• 1/2 ounce applejack or apple brandy
• 1/2 ounce Dubonnet rouge
• 1/2 ounce Amaro Nonino
• 1 dash pomegranate concentrate or grenadine

Combine in a mixing glass and fill with ice; stir well and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Twist a bit o’ lemon peel over the drink and discard, and garnish with a few pomegranate seeds.

Want to see what everyone else has been up to for Mixology Monday? Head over to Lindsey’s place and check out the submissions.

Tags: Applejack, Drinks, Mixology Monday, Rye by Paul
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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
23 Comments »