Entries Tagged as 'Thirty in 30'

30/30, #30: the Prescription Julep

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.

30/30, #29: the Daisy de Santiago

Told you there’d be another Charles H. Baker drink before this whole 30/30 things was over….

Baker describes this daiquiri-with-benefits as “a Lovely Thing Introduced to Us through the Gracious Offices of the Late Facuno Bacardi, of Lamented Memory”, and says that “along with the immortal Daiquiri, this is the best Bacardi drink on record.”

That’s a tall claim, and one that might well stand up if Baker’s preparation instructions are slightly tinkered with. Baker says to serve the rum-lime-simple syrup combo over shaved ice in a large goblet, and then to float a half-jigger of yellow Chartreuse on top before adding a squirt of soda water, and garnishing with mint, fruit and whatnot.

I made a few adjustments to Baker’s recipe, and it could use one or two more; having almost always been disappointed by drinks constructed with shaved ice, I went the crushed route, in a double old-fashioned glass. And since the soda water would seem to disrupt the float, I added the bubbles first, and then attempted to float the Chartreuse, only to be reminded of how much heavier the liqueur was as compared to everything else in the drink as it quickly dribbled down through the ice and settled on the bottom of the glass in a hazy yellow cloud that was actually quite pretty, as you would be able to see if I’d bothered to photograph it.

Lacking specifics from Baker, I chose to go the white rum route with the Daisy de Santiago; next time, I’m going the aged route, and I imagine Bacardi 8 should serve quite nicely. I also skipped the garnish, which was foolish in a way, as the mint would have provided aromatics that this drink could certainly use.

The Daisy de Santiago has enough life in it to have earned a cocktail menu position at places including The Violet Hour in Chicago and Clover Club in Brooklyn; I’m curious to know how they make theirs, as it has the promise of being an absolutely lovely drink, but a little tweaking of the preparation is needed to really make it shine.

Here’s how I prepared it, with the suggested modifications I mentioned; let me know if you have details on how you or bartenders you’ve seen go about the same drink:

Daisy de Santiago

  • 2 ounces rum (I used the white rum from Appleton; go aged next time)
  • juice of 1 lime (about 1 ounce)
  • dash simple syrup
  • 3/4 ounce yellow Chartreuse

Shake the rum, lime and simple with ice and strain into double old-fashioned glass filled with crushed ice. Add about 1 ounce of soda water, and gently pour Chartreuse over top of drink. Garnish with a good sprig o’ mint — I’d say this is essential, for the aroma — and fresh fruit as desired.

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.

30/30, #28: the Uptown Manhattan

You can almost hear the collective eye-roll from San Francisco — the eyes that aren’t rolling back in their heads because of the excesses of Cocktail Week, that is — that I’m finally covering a drink that’s long been a part of the Bay Area craft-cocktail scene (and by “long”, I mean “since earlier this decade”). But cut me some slack — I’m up in Seattle, and if Marcovaldo Dionysos, the drink’s creator, can’t find it in his schedule to come up north every once in a while, then it’s either up to me to work my around to blogging about his drinks for my local readers — both of ‘em — or to Boudreau to rip ‘em off and stick them on his bar menu.*

Gary Regan wrote about this drink way back in 2003, but at the time I was just a fledgling booze geek and had no idea what Amaro Nonino was; hell, at that point I hadn’t even found orange bitters yet. Ah, youth, and how little of it I recall.

Anyway, details: made for a Maker’s Mark competition, amaro in place of vermouth, etc. Actually, why should I spend the time writing about this drink — here’s Marco on video, I’ll let him explain it:

Got it? In case you missed it, here’s the recipe:

Uptown Manhattan
by Marcovaldo Dionysos

  • 2 ounces Maker’s Mark bourbon
  • 3/4 ounce Amaro Nonino (the print recipe says 1/2, but Marco says 3/4 in the video, so…)
  • 2 dashes orange bitters (Regan’s #6)
  • 1 barspoon cherry brandy from brandied cherries [being brandied cherry-less, I subbed Cherry Heering]

Stir well with ice & strain into chilled cocktail glass. Cut a piece of orange peel about the size of a quarter; positioning the flame from a match in front of the peel, give a squeeze and spray the orange oil through the flame onto the surface of the drink (it’s easier than it sounds — watch the video to see what I mean). Garnish with a cherry.

* Okay, that was a gratuitous and totally unwarranted slam at Jamie, who does not steal Marco’s drinks and place them on his bar menus as his own — that was all a simple misunderstanding for which I take full responsibility and humbly apologize. Really, I did it — for the full story, go to Tini Bigs and ask Jamie to explain it himself, perhaps over a Ginger Rogers.

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.

30/30, #27: the Prado

No history behind this one that I know of, other than that it appears in Jones’ Complete Bar Guide by Stan Jones — go ahead, check out the link — from 1977, and that it’s been in regular circulation at Zig Zag for god knows how long (and that Anita clued in to the wonders of this drink way back in ought-seven). What I do know is:

  • It’s a really novel twist on the old tequila – lime juice combo;
  • maraschino and tequila interact in a really deep and almost viscerally appealing way in the glass;
  • it’s ripe for further exploration.

I only get the hankering for these once in a great while, but every time I mix one, I wonder why I don’t do so more often. I usually use a reposado in these, though a blanco is good when you’re looking for a bit more spark. I can also imagine doing something jazzy with this drink along the lines of a bitters splash atop the egg white foam, or maybe a mescal rinse — not that it needs it, though I doubt it would be offended by an accessory or two.

Prado

  • 1 1/2 ounces tequila (blanco or reposado – your call)
  • 3/4 ounce fresh lime juice
  • 1/2 ounce maraschino liqueur
  • 1/2 egg white (or toss the whole one in and mix two drinks)

Shake like hell without ice — maybe with a strainer coil in the shaker to help mix things up — then fill with ice and go at it again for 10 seconds or so. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

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.

30/30, #26: the Cora Middleton Cocktail

Another drink from the works of Charles H. Baker, Jr., in this case The South American Gentleman’s Companion. I frequently return to Baker, both for reading enjoyment and for mixological inspiration (and I may still hit him up for one more drink before this 30/30 thing is over), and at the risk of repeating myself by noting that many of his recipes range from slightly off to completely bizarre, Baker remains one of the most original writers to have ever typed with one hand while shaking a drink with the other.

Baker notes that the Cora Middleton “is really a cocktail, not a lady; although somewhere in the dim and distant past it probably was named for some female of consequence to some good mixing-man. Actually it impressed us as being a Clover Club’s 1/2-sister, only done with good amber rum instead of gin.”

So, a Clover Club, which I adore, made with rum, which ditto, and Baker, who I’ve already gushed over enough. Baker suggests using Myers’ Mona rum, which Stephen Remsberg led me to understand is one of the most highly sought-after rums from the mid-20th century, so I probably won’t be shopping around for a bottle to make this drink; instead, I’ll follow Baker’s instructions to use Carta de Oro Bacardi, or in this case, the Bacardi 8, which no matter what you think of the company’s other products, is a very good rum and pretty much indispensable in my home bar. Then, lime juice (or lemon), raspberry syrup, an egg white and a dash of Angostura — about as straightforward yet happy-go-lucky as they come.

I’ve taken to mixing my Clover Clubs with raspberry syrup instead of grenadine, since the raspberry kicks way more proverbial ass in drinks of this sort than even a top-notch homemade grenadine can. Substituting the mild, vanilla-toned richness of the rum for the crisp backbone of gin, and with the nod of Angostura for depth and complexity, the Cora Middleton is a rich, sly gal, with that silky lusciousness from the egg white but enough kick and sharpness to keep you from getting grabby or anything. A keeper.

Cora Middleton Cocktail

  • 2 ounces rum – use an amber Jamaican or Cuban (-style)
  • 3/4 ounce lime juice
  • 1/2 ounce raspberry syrup
  • 2 tsp fresh egg white
  • 1 dash Angostura bitters

Combine in a shaker and shake, without ice, until frothy. Add ice and shake again for at least 10 seconds, then strain into a chilled cocktail glass. No garnish, but if you get fancy with a drop or two of bitters on the foam then I’m sure Baker wouldn’t hold too much of a grudge.

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.

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