Entries Tagged as 'Thirty in 30'

30/30, #20: The Trinidad Sour

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.

30/30, #19: the Zamboanga “Zeinie” Cocktail

– “another Palate-Twister from the Land where the Monkeys Have No Tails.”

As if you couldn’t guess, it’s another drink from Charles H. Baker’s The Gentleman’s Companion.

I always like to turn to Baker for a little inspiration, both of the scribbling sort and of the bibulous type. I’ll spare you my gushings about his faux-Victorian prose stylings (though you should read the conversation I had about Baker with bartender, writer and Baker expert St. John Frizell for Tales Blog about a year ago), and append my admiration of the drinks he covers with the brief notation: “While some of the drinks are good or even great, many of them are odd, if not downright awful.” The Zamboanga “Zeinie” cocktail, while definitely on the list of off-the-beaten-path drinks, falls resolutely into the “good” category.

As Baker describes it, “This drink found its way down through the Islands to Mindanao from Manila, and we found it in the little Overseas Club standing high above the milk-warm waters of the Sulu Sea, on the suggestion of a new friend, just met[.]”

As I describe it: I thought I’d take advantage of the fact that I have homemade pineapple gomme syrup in the house to mix up this cocktail, which I’d meaning to try for some time. Sweetened with maraschino and pineapple syrup, and with a good three dashes of bitters, the Zamboanga has a richness from the cognac that in this context seems unusually exotic — as if the old French brandy was on a South Seas cruise and discovered its inner beach bum, touched up with lime juice and pineapple.

While I might tinker slightly with the recipe — perhaps bumping up the pineapple syrup, which is somewhat faint in this on-the-tart-side cocktail — I consider this a keeper.

Zamboanga “Zeinie” Cocktail
(adapted from Charles H. Baker’s The Gentleman’s Companion)

  • 1 1/2 ounces cognac
  • 1 teaspoon maraschino liqueur
  • juice of 1/2 a lime (about 1/2 ounce)
  • 3 dashes fresh pineapple syrup
  • 3 dashes Angostura bitters

Shake well with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass; twist a piece of lime peel over the drink — yes, lime peel, ignore those who say it’s gross — 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.

30/30, #18: the Ephemeral (thanks a heap, Chuck….)

There I was, Friday night, getting ready to mix up a drink and then, as the time crept closer to midnight, blog the hell out of it in a frenzy so I could keep up with the 30-day, daily post regimen I set for myself a couple weeks back. This being Friday, I figured I might mix a few; the East India was on my list, but there was another drink I wanted to give a spin: the Ephemeral.

I did, and it was good, and I took photos (albeit poorly lit ones) and everything, but before blogging it up, I thought, “What’s the rush? Let me take care of the East India, which I’ve been planning on getting around to, and once that’s out of the way I can mosey back over to this little number. After all, the only place I’ve seen this recipe posted is on Facebook [and yes, I feel more than a little like a 14-year-old girl while typing that], in an update from David Shenaut; it’s not like this is gonna pop up on the Internet anywhere in the next few days.”

What I didn’t count on, of course, is that Chuck Taggart would have the very same impulse to mix up this intriguing drink, and would get it online while I was still mucking about in the kitchen. But while Chuck and Wes may have scooped me on getting this drink posted first, it deserves the extra coverage.

David is a bartender at Teardrop Lounge in Portland, and when I had the bottles assembled on the table for a quick photo, I realized that this cocktail has all the hallmarks of booze-geek nirvana: Dolin Blanc, the current vermouth of the moment (and a few years ago, did anyone think that there would ever be such a thing as a vermouth of the moment?), Old Tom gin, The Bitter Truth Celery Bitters — hell, the most mainstream ingredient in the mix is St. Germain.

The Ephemeral is just that — lightly sweet, with botanicals hitting all ranges of the palate, from the lightness of elderflowers to the crisp savory flavor from the celery bitters to the deep softness of the gin. Like Chuck, I used the Hayman’s Old Tom in this as it’s what I have on hand; though having tasted the Ransom Old Tom I’d like to give it a run through the Ephemeral, as it’s on the drier, richer side of the Old Tom experience.

Anyway, nice job, Dave, and thanks a hell of a lot, Chuck, for beating me to the punch with this drink.

Ephemeral

  • 1 1/2 ounces Old Tom gin
  • 1 ounce Dolin blanc vermouth
  • 2 teaspoons St. Germain
  • 3 dashes The Bitter Truth Celery Bitters

Combine ingredients in a mixing glass and stir well with cracked ice. Strain into chilled cocktail glass, squeeze a piece of grapefruit 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.

30/30, #17: Theobroma

Back when I first started exploring cocktails, one of the most useful resources I had was Esquire Drinks and the accompanying Esquire Drinks Database, both written by David Wondrich. Along with the recipes and essays on drinks, the database had (and I’m using the past tense, because damned if I can find it after the redesign) a list of “The Rules” regarding the art and wisdom of drinking. The first, and if memory serves, last rules on the list were identical: There is no such thing as a Chocolate Martini.

Agreed, I say — but I also append the caveat that I think chocolate gets a bum rap. Chocolate was the first flavor I recall loving enough to identify as a favorite (thanks in large part to the generous hand with the ice-cream scoop deployed by my regular babysitter), and today single-estate, artisan-crafted chocolate ranks high on the epicurean scale.

But when it comes to the cocktail world, respectable uses of chocolate are in short supply. Sure, you’ve got the simple shot of green Chartreuse in a mug of hot chocolate — and if you haven’t gone that route, then you have no idea what you’re missing — and classics such as the Twentieth Century (there are others, but not many). Some contemporary bartenders are playing with chocolate — Daniel Shoemaker served me an amazing bourbon-based Last Days made with a house creme de cacao at Teardrop Lounge in Portland a while back, Jamie Boudreau has a brandy-based Green Glacier that’s pretty damn good, and I’ve heard rumblings of goings on in San Francisco — and in Boston, Avery Glasser is moving incrementally closer to getting the phenomenally good Bittermens Xocolatl Mole Bitters onto the market.

These are good doses of chocolate love, but it’s only a start. I’m hoping to play around more with the flavor in the months to come (likely including forays into homemade chocolate liqueurs — pray for me, please) but here’s a drink I’ve been having some fun with lately.

Before I get into the recipe, an explanation: I’m trying to make this as user-friendly as possible, but for the handful of folks out there with a sample of Bittermens mole bitters and/or Jamie Boudreau’s Amer Picon replica, I used these in the original incarnation, in place of the mescal and Averna, respectively (though with a dash of the bitters instead of the teaspoon of mescal — but you probably figured that out already). Try out that formulation if you’ve got the goods; otherwise, here’s the –

Theobroma

  • 2 ounces reposado tequila
  • 1/2 ounce Carpano Antica vermouth
  • 1/2 ounce Averna
  • 1/4 ounce creme de cacao (I’m using Marie Brizard, as it’s the least execrable I’ve found)
  • 1 teaspoon mescal

Assemble in a mixing glass and do that thing where you stir with cracked ice for 20 seconds or so. Strain into chilled cocktail glass; twist a piece of orange zest over the top and use as garnish.

This drink bears some relation to the Camerone. Tequila just works so well with chocolate, and in the original Picon version of the Theobroma, you have that bitter orange element playing off of — and subduing — the sweetness of the creme de cacao. The Antica contributes complexity along with a cinnamon / vanilla note, and in this version, the mescal lends a hint of fire and smoke, which gives that favorite kiddo flavor a hint of danger. At a quarter-ounce, the chocolate isn’t prominent, but neither is it hiding; with a standard cacao I’m reluctant to bump it any higher, but with something with a little more bitter-chocolate character, hell yes.

Anyway, give this a try if you have the fixins, and let me know what you think.

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, #16: the Saratoga Cocktail

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.

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