It’s Friday, it’s been a long, hellaceous day, and it’s getting close to midnight — I’m gonna skip the usual folderol with this one (not to mention the photo — too tired and fed up with the day to mess with the camera right now) and get straight to the booze.

East India Cocktail

• 2 ounces cognac
• 1 teaspoon curacao
• 1 teaspoon pineapple syrup
• 2 dashes maraschino
• 2-3 dashes Angostura or Peychaud’s bitters

Stir well with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass; hit it with a lemon twist and, if you’re up for it, a cherry.

The basics: Harry Johnson’s Bartender’s Manual, 1882 and 1900 (and now, through Mud Puddle, 2008). True, Johnson calls for Boker’s bitters; if you’ve got ‘em, use ‘em, but for everyone else go with Angostura or, on David Wondrich’s suggestion in Imbibe!, Peychaud’s. I thought I’d break this out since I had a fresh batch of pineapple gomme in the house and was in the mood for something old-timey, really tasty and inherently boozy. This pretty much fits the bill, and is absolutely what was needed after a long week.

One aside: Ted Haigh ran another recipe for the East India Cocktail in Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails, a variation that calls for 1/2 ounce of raspberry syrup in place of the teaspoon of pineapple syrup in this version, and that ups the maraschino to a full teaspoon. I recall trying that back when the book first came out, and being delighted by the flavor but turned off by the heavy sweetness. This version is much more approachable, since it knocks the sugar back to managable levels; do be sure to use a decent cognac, though, since you’re basically getting dressed-up liquor here, with little to hide the flaws. And if you want to split the difference — especially if you’re not up for prepping your own batch of pineapple gomme syrup — you can substitute a good raspberry syrup, which is not only damn delicious but historically appropriate, if you get hung up on those kinds of things.

And with that, back to Friday evening…..

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, Thirty in 30 by Paul
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Back when I posted about the Charlie Chaplin, commenter Duff posed the great apricot brandy question, to wit: when you see “apricot brandy” listed in a recipe, does it mean the sweet apricot liqueur (often) made with a brandy base? Or does it mean a true apricot brandy — in other words, a dry apricot eau de vie?

Sometimes, the authors of cocktail guides are pretty specific about what they’re calling for, though the apricot brandy question is often kind of confounding. Here’s a drink that does specify the type of spirit that is intended, along with a look at the good stuff that can happen when you ignore the original instructions.

The Hotel Nacional Special first appears in Charles H. Baker’s The Gentleman’s Companion, from 1939. Skipping Baker’s long story (which is worth looking up if you have the book), here’s his original recipe:

Wil P. Taylor’s Hotel Nacional Special

• Carta de Oro Bacardi [gold], 1 jigger
• Lime, juice 1/2
• Fresh pineapple juice, 1 jigger
• dry apricot brandy, 1 tsp

Shake with cracked ice, strain, serve in a tall cocktail glass with a stem.

Straightforward, no? I first came across this drink several years ago when Dave Wondrich adapted it for Esquire Drinks (Wondrich tones up the rum to a full 2 ounces, a move I fully endorse, but otherwise leaves Baker’s recipe intact), but held off on making it for a long time, primarily because it took me ages until I got around to picking up some apricot eau de vie. When I did try it, though, I found this drink a lovely thing — not as rich as Baker leads readers to believe, but essentially a daiquiri plushed out with pineapple and with a barely detectable, ethereal stone-fruit element from the eau de vie.

Great — we’re done, right? Nope — because even though Baker specifies that this drink should use a dry apricot brandy, many people (including myself) have tried mixing this with a sweet apricot brandy. And why not; sure, it’s straying from the letter of the recipe, but if that alteration leads to a satisfying drink, then tinker away.

But tinkering can take you in all kinds of directions. Last weekend, I decided to mix up a bottle of pineapple gomme syrup (which is nothing more than gomme that’s had fresh or frozen pineapple soaked in it for a day, and then strained), to play around with in pisco and rum drinks, and basically just to see what happened. While surfing around, looking for appropriate drink recipes, I checked Jennifer Colliau’s Small Hand Foods site. Jennifer is an incredibly talented bartender in San Francisco who has been making a fantastic craft orgeat for the Bay Area bar crowd, as well as a pineapple gomme that I have yet to taste. While checking her recipes, I saw that she featured one for the Hotel Nacionale Special that was different from Baker’s, though still very much in the same vein; here’s hers:

Hotel Nacional Special

• 1 1/2 ounces rum (white or aged)
• 3/4 ounce fresh lime juice
• 3/4 ounce pineapple gomme syrup
• 1/2 ounce apricot brandy

Shake vigorously and strain into a chilled coupe glass. Garnish with a lime twist.

Jennifer doesn’t specify if this is to use a dry apricot brandy or an apricot liqueur; if I’d had my act together more before starting on this post, I’d have dropped her a line to ask, but as it is I’m hopeful that she or someone who works with her (*cough*, Erik, *cough*) will chime in and let me know.

Anyway, this recipe sounded really fantastic, and it’s the first thing I decided to make with my brand-new pineapple gomme. On Sunday, I brought a bottle to Dayne & Wendy’s house, where they were holding a cocktail party for Chuck Taggart, but before I could step up to the bar to give Jennifer’s recipe a try, Keith Waldbauer grabbed a bottle of rum and said he planned to make a great drink: a Hotel Nacional Special. Keith was following Dave’s adaptation, as above (though I did manage to flummox him by absent-mindedly stating the proportions from Jennifer’s version, which Keith smartly ignored, mostly, while mixing the drink), except for one thing: he used an apricot liqueur, from Giffard. I followed suit with Jennifer’s version and with the apricot liqueur, and then proceeded to try them side by side.

While the drink containing pineapple juice had a crisper acidity, the gomme version gave the drink a richer, jammier character. Keith suggested splashing some fresh pineapple into Jennifer’s version, to help crisp it up and boost the pineapple flavor, but honestly I was pretty happy.

Though there was one other step to try: using the gomme syrup version with apricot eau de vie. Back at home, I followed the same recipe, except I toned down the brandy to 1/4 ounce to push it back into line with Baker’s original formula (and also because an eau de vie’s powerful, ghostly flavor can easily take over a drink). While this made a fantastic cocktail as well — drier and lighter than the liqueur version — I did find myself missing the richness of the apricot liqueur and the way it played off the plush character of the pineapple gomme.

So, after all that ramble, which version was my favorite? I’d say the liqueur versions, both of ‘em, with the gomme in the lead, though the eau-de-vie versions are certainly no slackers. If I sound too confused it’s because I’ve been trying to cross-compare four similar drinks for the better part of a week, while doing a bunch of other stuff as well; if anybody wants to take a shot at these and compare them, it’s a tasty experiment, and one I’d love to hear about.

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, Rum, Thirty in 30 by Paul
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(Running into the evening with this 30/30 post, but it’s still Wednesday where I live, so all’s fair….)

A few months ago the good folks at Imbibe sent me to Las Vegas, a city that’s diametrically at odds with just about everything about me: I’m normally pretty quiet and subdued, I’m practically allergic to big party atmospheres, and gambling is one of the few vices that’s never really interested me. But I was being sent to Vegas to drink — or, to put it less dramatically, to visit a bunch of bars and restaurants and find out who was pouring some of the best stuff, from beer to booze to cocktails — and then write it up for the magazine; the May/June issue, to be specific, which is now on subscriber’s coffee tables and on newsstands all over the place.

While I did plenty of research beforehand, I was really fortunate to have a couple of volunteer tour guides accompany me on my rounds. My first night in town, Bellagio bartender and helluva nice guy Sean Bigley (who’s also behind the Ultimate Bar Chef website) took me to a number of different bars and introduced me to a number of great people, from Patricia Richards at the Wynn (who I’d met a couple of years ago when she was representing the US Bartender’s Guild at the Bacardi-Martini Grand Prix in Italy) to George Sproule at Downtown Cocktail Room, to Vegas bartending legend Bobby G, who we ran into at the bar at Nora’s Cuisine. Sean and I soaked up some excellent, some mediocre, and some downright awful drinks around town,  while Sean gave me an evening-long tutorial about bartending in Las Vegas, explaining as he went why it’s considerably different from working or drinking in any other city in the world.

My second night in town, after gawking at the extensive cognac, armagnac and calvados selection at Andre’s at the Monte Carlo (and tasting a wee bit), and at the scotch selection at Craftsteak at the MGM Grand (and ditto, along with hitting a few other bars on the way, for research purposes), I had a seat at the Fontana Bar at the Bellagio, where Sean works. While waiting for Matt Robold, aka Rum Dood, who was joining me on an excursion to Frankie’s Tiki Room, I asked Sean to make me one of his signature cocktails; this is what he came back with.

Sean’s drink, By Any Other Name, was originally created for a Hendrick’s Gin competition. Matching the gin’s notable cucumber and rose-petal characteristics with the florals found in St. Germain, and running with the floral theme through the introduction of a good dose of Sence Rose Nectar, the cocktail is elaborate yet light in flavor. When Sean broke out the Sence, I got a little nervous; I’d tried working up cocktails with rosewater and rose syrup before, only to be continually frustrated by these ingredients’ tendency to turn a complex cocktail into something that tastes like your grandmother’s soap. The rose nectar, however, is a much lighter-flavored product that manages to avoid that soap-like flavor (plus, it’s distributed at gourmet food stores and high-end supermarkets around the country; I picked mine up at Metropolitan Market in Seattle, but if you can’t find it near you, you can order it from Sean’s website). Sean uses a whole 2 ounces of Sence in this drink, but the rose flavor comes nowhere near dominating the cocktail. Overall it’s a really enjoyable drink, and if you go all out with Sean’s recommended garnish of an edible rose petal dusted with edible silver flake, it’s absolutely beautiful as well (I gave up on even trying to photograph this one; instead, check out Stuart Mullenberg’s awesome photo of the drink that appears on the article’s opening spread, pictured in the screen capture above).

You can read my article on Imbibe’s site, though you’ll need to pick up the magazine to dig deeper into other drinking destinations around Las Vegas, as well as for a couple of other recipes from some of the city’s better bars (and I’ve gotta give big kudos again to Stuart Mullenberg, who shot some really fantastic photos to accompany the story — if you don’t already have a subscription to Imbibe, be sure to pick up this issue for Stuart’s photos of Las Vegas bars if nothing else).

By Any Other Name, created by Sean Bigley
(makes enough for 2 drinks, or one really big one)

• 2 1/2 ounces Hendrick’s gin
• 1/2 ounce St. Germain
• 1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice
• 2 ounces Sence Rose Nectar
• 1 dash pomegranate syrup (I used grenadine, which is pretty much the same thing)

Combine ingredients in a shaker and fill with ice; shake well and strain into chilled cocktail glasses. Go to town with the garnish, as above.

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, Gin, Thirty in 30 by Paul
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While most of the online coverage I’ve seen regarding the new Food & Wine 2009 Cocktail Guide has been in relation to Eric Felten’s excellent Wall Street Journal piece, “A Welcome Sign of Vodka’s Decline” (though Anita also gives a good rundown of the book over at Married…With Dinner), I thought I’d dip into the book in search of some good recipes.

I only started picking up the Food & Wine Cocktails series a couple of years ago, so I don’t have much of a long-term perspective on how the drinks have changed over the years. But what I do find appealing is the way the current book is organized, with some themed chapters arranged by individual bartenders — such as the Aperitif section from Jamie Boudreau and the Seasonal Drinks section from Todd Thrasher — while other chapters were compiled by Jim Meehan and include drinks both classic and modern from a range of different bartenders and approaches to mixology.

I’ve already gone through the book and tagged a number of promising recipes with Post-It notes; here’s one that caught my eye: the Flor de Jalisco. Included in the Latin Drinks chapter that was arranged by Death & Co. bartender Joaquin Simo, this original cocktail by Simo is somewhat similar to another drink I really enjoy, Jamie’s Marmalade Sour. A basic tequila sour with a citrusy twist, the Flor de Jalisco seems like the kind of cocktail that’s inventive enough to appeal to a crowd of discriminating drinkers, yet easy enough to construct so it could be cranked out in quantity.

Flor de Jalisco

• 2 ounces blanco tequila
• 3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 ounce agave nectar
• 1 teaspoon orange marmalade

Combine ingredients in a shaker and shake well with ice. Strain into chilled coupe glass and garnish with an orange twist.

I used Milagro blanco, because they recently sent me a sample and I wanted to give it a test drive. I can see some real potential in this drink; when I make it again (and it’s good enough to break out a few more times), I might try using lime instead of lemon (though maybe I’m stuck in that tequila = lime mindset), along with a slightly larger dose of marmalade, as its rich citric jamminess is somewhat obscured by the acid from the lemon juice.

Anyone give this a try? 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.

Tags: Drinks, Tequila, Thirty in 30 by Paul
9 Comments »

In the late fall and early winter, I fell into a swoon regarding the perfect marriage between two ingredients: rye whiskey and apple brandy. While I’d flirted with this combination before, I’d never really explored its potential. By November, though, I was reaching for the black-labeled bottles of Rittenhouse bonded rye and Laird’s bonded apple brandy on most nights, trying different liqueurs and other flavoring agents to take the drinks in different directions. While there were a couple of loser drinks in the trials, most came through incredibly well. Here’s the drink that first sparked my interest in this flavor combination, a cocktail that I tried several years ago and have kept coming back to on a regular basis: the Diamondback.

The first appearance I know of for this drink is in Ted Saucier’s Bottoms Up, from 1951, and Saucier describes it as composed of two parts Old Schenley rye whiskey, with one part each of applejack and yellow Chartreuse. I initially came across this drink on Chuck Taggart’s blog way back in 2005, when my blog was in its infancy, and the comment I posted for the drink was, I think, my first exchange with Chuck. The recipe he posted (using the more potent green Chartreuse in place of the yellow) had likewise been suggested in a blog comment by Murray Stenson, who had posted the Diamondback on Zig Zag‘s bar menu. After reading Chuck’s post I became an occasional fan of the Diamondback, and even included it in an Imbibe story on applejack a couple years back.

I mention this connection because I’m coming off a busy weekend, one that was filled with eating and drinking with Chuck and Wes (and a whole slew of Seattle cocktail people) during their long-overdue visit to Seattle. Murray even dropped by during last night’s cocktail party at Dayne & Wendy’s, and at some point Keith Waldbauer mixed up a Diamondback. This may seem a trivial personal detail to many, but the way I’ve come to know people like Chuck and Murray over the almost four years since I first came across this recipe made covering this drink appropriate, in a sentimental kinda way. Don’t care for the sentimentality? Mix one anyway — with the alcoholic firepower supplied by three ingredients in the 100-proof and up range, the Diamondback will put you in a reflective state of mind pretty fast.

Diamondback

• 1 1/2 ounces rye whiskey (Rittenhouse bonded strongly recommended)
• 3/4 ounce applejack (Laird’s bonded apple brandy strongly recommended)
• 3/4 ounce Chartreuse (yellow works, but green works better)*

Stir well with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry if that’s your thing.

* As Dietsch noted when he wrote up this drink for Mixology Monday, this amount of Chartreuse can push the drink over to the sweet side; you may wish to dial it back to a half-ounce or so and see how that suits your tastes.

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: Applejack, Drinks, Rye, Thirty in 30 by Paul
14 Comments »