The Abbey | 32 down 243 to go

So there’s not much to talk about with the Abbey.  It’s the very first in the back of H & M, thus consisting of nothing but a recipe.  Looking online, there’s not much to report either, save that it seems to have been invented and was wildly popular in the 1930’s and can be found in another cocktail bible, The Savoy Cocktail Book.  Indeed, recipes I came across online are updates for modern palates, using Lillet’s & orange bitters, each of which renders a somewhat sweeter, less bitter experience than this original.

So far, it’s The Partner’s self-proclaimed favorite.  Upon reflection, he took a Goldilocks stance, describing it as not too acidic, not too sweet, but juuuust right.  In the moment after the first sip, though, he put it this way:  “MMMM!!  GIN…!  It’s not sour….   Mmm-hmm!  Very nice!”   After he finished his first (a full 3 sips ahead of me), he not-so-subtly held his empty in front of him intoning, “Yes, please. I’ll have another!”  And I didn't even get the stock lecture on "these classic cocktails".  Progress.

This is a good aperitif, with a light juniper base and orange accent.  Getting to the bottom of the glass, it does take a decidedly sweet turn as you down the cherry-infused liquid from the maraschino garnish.  In an odd example of role-reversal, I had to stop at two while The Partner could’ve gone for a third.  Between the sweet last sips and the OJ, it was becoming a bit thick on my palate.  Perhaps some fresh-squeezed OJ would be better as it’s a bit thinner.  (Home squeezed, not the kind they sell in the grocery store that mulches the entire orange.)

Snapping the pic and seeing the cherry nestled in the crook of the martini glass I couldn’t help but think of those Screwball ices we used to get from the ice cream man as a kid.  What were those little balls at the bottom of the ice, anyway?  Gumballs?  I think I need to try to find one of those.…

Abbey Cocktail

2 oz. gin

1 oz. orange juice

1 dash sweet vermouth

1 dash bitters

Shake with cracked ice and pour into chilled cocktail glasses.  Garnish with a maraschino.

Bennett Cocktail | 31 down 244 to go

The Bennett Cocktail came from the back of the bible, so there’s no history to this from H & M to share.  However, according to Robert Vermeire’s Cocktails, How to Mix Them (1935), the Bennett was very popular in Chile and was named after a popular Chilean millionaire, businessman and landowner.

The Partner and I enjoyed this one as an aperitif one night when he had to work quite late.  We were both starving, but dinner was warm and ready to go whenever we were.  As soon as I got the text that he was on a homeward-bound train I started icing the glasses.  This cocktail would be a delicious delay of gratification.  And delicious it was.  The tart astringency of the gin, lime and bitters was smoothed out by the simple syrup.   After the first couple sips, I found myself thinking of bubble gum.  I know that might make some of you wince, but note my choice of words here.  I won’t say it tasted like bubble gum.  It didn’t.  However, as I sipped, I did think of it.  And this was not an offensive thing.

After the first round, The Partner, who I think is officially Patience personified with this project, did what has happened enough times now that I can call it a trend.  He asked if his next round could be “one of your fantastic Manhattans.”  Hey, blog mission accomplished, right?  At least he’s not defaulting to Kettel anymore.   But after the requisite lecture on the problem with “these classic cocktails”, and I agreed to make him a Manhattan to accompany my second Bennett, he rather quickly and willingly decided to join me.  Then, giving his imprimatur, “This one’s nice.  I’d do it again.  It’s a keeper.” 

Ah, a toast to expanding horizons!

Bennett Cocktail
2 oz. gin
½ oz. lime juice
½ tsp. simple syrup
2 dashes Angostura bitters

Shake with cracked ice and serve in chilled cocktail glasses.  Garnish with a lime squeeze.

(BTW, skulking around the Web looking for history about the bev I found several recipes that called for sugar instead of simple syrup.  I’d advise against such pinch-hitting.  Beyond mere sweetness, syrup adds a smoothness and dimensionality to a cocktail that sugar does not.  Sugar is just sweet and will make a bev sandy if not held in solution.  Take the few minutes needed to make simple syrup.  Then it’s on hand for such cocktails.  Plus, it keeps for ever.) 

Scofflaw | 30 down 245 to go

We're experiencing a brief delay on the bev snap.

Well, wasn’t that the nice little unintended hiatus?  Summer’s been a little hectic.  Work, travel, family, home renovation.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  But let's act as if with this entry we’ll be back to our more regular – dare I say weekly? – entries.

So on to it.  It figures our summer reentry cocktail also has an etymological connection (Don’t ya love that, A.?)  According to H & M, according to H. L. Mencken, the Scofflaw was invented and took its name only days after the coining of the word "scofflaw" itself.  Reportedly, on January 16, 1924, the Boston Herald kicked off a contest to find a new term for “the lawless imbiber of illicit drink”.  “Scofflaw” won.  In Chicago, the Tribune was reporting that across the Atlantic in Paris, expats were flagrantly thumbing their nose at Prohibition albeit several thousand miles away.  It reported that their favorite cocktail was a new one invented at Harry’s New York Bar in Paris the day after the Herald announced the contest winner.  In honor of expat imbibers, the inventor decided to name it after the new edition to Webster’s.

Tart and dry, the vermouth and lemon juice together impart an almost grapefruity note.  A definite aperitif, these are sipped and take a little time to get down.  Truthfully, I think it’s more beautiful to look at than to drink.

So, is it a keeper?  Well, let's see.  The Partner exhibited the now instant and automatic wince that comes no matter what H & M goody he puts to his lips.  I must admit that I too paused at the first sip.  My final determination didn't come until I got to the bottom of the glass.  It was so-so.  The Partner at this point scrunched his nose as if I'd just farted.  "You know, all these classic cocktails are the same.  They're all so acidic." He then proceeded to tell me once again how “these classic cocktails” are a cultural and gastronomic anachronism.  (Not his exact words, but you get the gist.)  I didn’t feel an overwhelming need to argue with him this time…or to have another.  So we transitioned to something else.   Perhaps that there is the answer to the question.  It's probably why the Scofflaw's popularity ended even before Prohibition did. 

Scofflaw

1 1/2  oz. Canadian whiskey

1 1/2 oz. dry vermouth

1/2 oz. lemon juice

1 dash grenadine

1 dash orange bitters

Margarita | 29 down 246 to go

Without exaggeration, The Partner and I can say that prior to today, we have not had a Margarita.  I know this may cause some consternation around Lakeview where up to this moment El Tapatio and our friend, M., have held the title for Best Margarita.  This version is of a different caliber.

To be fair, we did not make this Margarita strictly by the book.  It is a bit of an improv – and not getting a baseline, for sure.  While this may seem like I’m getting cocky, let’s look at it as needing to make necessary substitutions when different ingredients are in-house.  We were out of Cointreau so substituted Grand Marnier.  And as mentioned in the previous post, we’re desperately trying to drink down a store of OJ.  So orange juice subbed for lemon juice.  We also prefer ours on the rocks without salt.  All that being said, this version was one of the smoothest and tastiest we’ve ever had.  When out of balance, Margaritas can cut in one or a combination of 3 ways:  Too much booze and it burns the throat.  Too much syrup and it scratches the 

throat.  Too much citrus juice and the acidity burns the tongue & tonsils.  Often, heartburn is the result more than any kind of enjoyable warm fuzzy.  This version perfectly harmonized the 3 components of liquor, sugar, and citrus.  It was smooth, vibrant and refreshing. 

As several guests arrived for a spontaneous roof party, these flowed easily throughout the evening without gumming up the palate with syrupy sweetness.  Several guests remarked at their goodness and one was even surprised that it was a Margarita.  How tragic.  This is what Chi-Chi’s has wrought.

Margarita
1 ½ oz. tequila
¾ oz. Cointreau
½ oz. lemon juice
½ oz. lime juice

Shake with cracked ice; strain into chilled wine goblet or cocktail glass with kosher salt on the rim; garnish with a lime wheel.


UPDATE:  This recipe continues to yield, hands-down, the best Margarita The Partner and I have ever had (sorry M. :-).  In the original post above, I didn't strictly follow the recipe as written.  But I've since mixed it exclusively as written and it is smooth, citrusy, balanced sweetness, dangerous.  A staple on the roof this summer, especially with guests who tended towards the familiar, all said this was the best Margarita they'd had.  If you haven't taken the opportunity to mix this bad girl up, do it!

Mojito | 28 down 247 to go

Mojitos should be made in a particular order to release

the botanicals in the mint & limes.

The mint in the herb garden has gone all Audrey 2 on us and The Partner has been yearning for mojitos ever since we planted the stuff.  So I figured what better way to celebrate the Fourth of July weekend than with an antes de la revolución Cuban bev allowing me both to hack down the rabid space plant and satisfy The Other Half all at the same time?

The best mojitos I’ve ever had are served up at Nacional 27, here in Chicago.  Rimmed with raw sugar and served with a sugar cane swizzle stick, these are the stuff of legend.  These days, mojitos are everywhere, most of them either too thin and flavorless or too syrupy and sweet.  All in all, most are just plain bad.  I think that’s because muddled anything is labor-intensive for a bartender who doesn’t enjoy crafting.  To be fair, usually one person ordering a mojito leads to everyone ordering a mojito.  So when half the bar orders cocktails requiring a lot of squeezing and muddling, round after round I can kinda understand the irritation in their eyes when you ask for one.  That is if they’re not being poured from a mix.  So they probably make them subpar to discourage consequent rounds and thus more muddling.  But I digress…

There are two keys to making a good mojito and they both have to do with the volatile oils of the key ingredients.  To start, muddle the mint with a little of the simple syrup and a splash of the seltzer.  The sugars and bubbles help draw out the oils in the mint.  Only muddle until you can smell mint wafting up from the glass.  The other trick is to leave the lime hull in the glass so the rind releases the citrus oils, adding to the play of bitter & sweet.  While you’re squeezing the juice of a full lime, you only need half the hull for the proper balance.  When well crafted, a mojito should be light, bright and terribly refreshing on a hot summer day.  Imbibers should be able to enjoy several rounds without experiencing sugary, syrupy overload.

Mojito

2-3 oz. light rum

1 lime

½ oz. simple syrup

8-10 mint sprigs

Seltzer

Put the mint, simple syrup and a splash of seltzer in a 16 oz. pint glass and muddle until you can smell the mint.  Then squeeze in the lime juice, including half the hull to the glass.  Add the rum, stir, fill with ice.  Top with seltzer and garnish with mint sprigs.

This isn't even a good pic and it's not even as big as it got.  Ah, mint!

UPDATE:  The venerable mojito, like it's cousin, Margarita, was the go-to bev of summer mainly for our guests on the roof.  It was familiar, exotic, and it helped to have had a bumper crop of some of the best mint we've ever grown.  In fact, it's still going strong and I'm going to try to keep it through the winter.  

We got more than a friend or two to their happy place with this tipple.  And the recipe here, like the Marg, often brought claims of being the best the bevver's ever had.   

**Dilettante blushes.**  

**The Partner rolls his eyes.**  

(Not really.  He pretty much beams with pride, but the former maintains the humorous caricature.)   

I now understand why bartenders hate mixing mojitos -- especially when they're busy.  They take forever to craft.  And that's why I've stopped ordering them out.  But, I will admit, when it's only a handful of friends on a warm summer day and no one's in a rush to go anywhere or do anything, all that muddling is worth the effort.  The mojito really isn't that complex, but it does have a big wow factor!

Satan’s Whiskers | 27 down 248 to go

Not an orange to be had so we garnished with lime twist.

How does one kick off Date Nite as the first night of a 3-day weekend?  With Satan’s Whiskers, of course!  After Pride, we had so much leftover OJ we were walking up and down our hall giving jugs of it away to the neighbors.  (Anita Bryant would be so proud.)  Still we had three cartons of it in our own fridge.  That being the case, I thought this sounded like a good way to get rid of some of that liquid sunshine.  But at ½ an ounce a serving, we’d be drinking Satan’s Whiskers well past the weekend and never put a dent in the reserves.

Looking at the ingredients, one would think this would be very orangey.  Believe it or not, it’s not.  It has an interesting effect on the palate in that one can taste each ingredient, yet no one dominates.  That being said, I could see how if a bartender is not meticulous in the pour this could be a mouthful of sweet vermouth which would be decidedly unpleasant.

When considering whiskers, how do you like them, straight or curled?  H & M distinguish between “straight” and “curled” versions of the bev.  Use Grand Marnier for “straight” and Curacao to give them a curl.  Since we were mixing before we were reading, we enjoyed the straight variety as we were out of Curacao and only had Grand Marnier.  They also suggest enjoying the drink curled if it’s light out and straight if it’s dark.  We were a little out of sync on that score too, but both the infusion and the evening were delightful just the same.

While we enjoyed this tipple on a warm summer night, it is rich.  Two was our limit before switching over to something lighter and brighter.  Moscow Mules are becoming our fall-back of choice on that score.  (The Partner loooooves the copper cups.)  Ditto on the Cuba Libre -- especially when you want to keep the party rolling but need a little jolt to keep the eyes open!

Satan’s Whiskers
¾ oz. gin
¾ oz. sweet vermouth
¾ oz. dry vermouth
½ oz. orange juice
½ oz. Grand Marnier
1 dash orange bitters

Shake with cracked ice; strain into chilled cocktail glass.  Garnish with an orange twist.

Cocktail Chat | A Critical Mixology Lesson

Every year, The Partner and I host a Pride brunch.  Most years we have about 15-25 people show up.  We cook easy brunch things, serve up the usual brunchy cocktails like Mimosas, Bloody Marys, and Screwdrivers.  This year we had two occasions to change things up and go all out.  First was our deck.  We've just finished an expansion of it that includes a fun new outdoor bar.  The other occasion was this little project we're on with the bible and the blog. 

As we planned our respective menus, I decided that the usual drink fare were fine, however the morning would need something new to reflect our growing expertise in the mixological arts.  Given that the morning moves quickly and we're on a schedule to walk over to the parade by late morning, the special bev would have to be something I could mix a batch of in advance and just pour into a glass when requested.  Not wanting to experiment with something new for a party, I turned back to the blog, zeroing in on both the "Make it again, Sam" and "summer" tags for inspiration.  Everyone remember the Jasmine ("I'll have a Jaaaasssmine...")?  Seemed perfect.  It was breakfasty in its ingredients, tasted like grapefruit juice when mixed, and bonus of bonuses for the day:  IT WAS PINK!

After a trip to Costco for some large scale high end ingredients (I was mixing for 40.) and a cool, spigotted dispenser, I got to work the morning of the affair.  I collected the ingredients, pulled my measuring cups, squeezed six pounds of fresh lemons.  I mixed it all together and tasted.  Now here's the lesson: unless the drink is specifically a punch, you can't just scale it up.  A simple and proportional conversion from ounces to cups simply does not work -- which is what I did.  How clever and mathematical I felt!  But when finished mixing and adding a healthy amount of ice, I didn't have a punch, I just had a cocktail of Brobdingnagian proportions.  It was amazing how something that is so delicious and refreshing in a four ounce martini glass was utterly lacerating in a twelve ounce drinking glass filled with ice.

What was supposed to be a simple mixing task had now become a rescue mission.  Guests were minutes away from walking in the door and I had to find a way not to waste over $100 of perfectly good premium liquor.  Taking a moment, I breathed and with a little positive self-talk I told myself that I would not panic.  This was now an improvisation, no different from when I'm cooking without a recipe.  It would just require some thought to the ingredients necessary to achieve the desired flavors and textures coupled with a routine of mix and taste, mix and taste until all elements were balanced and harmonious.  Luckily, The Partner had already made a pitcher of simple syrup just to have on hand.  Luckily, too, we live across the street from a Whole Foods.  Figuring my budding Pride Punch was suffering from an over abundance of sharp base and accent liquors as well as an acidic juice, it would need more sweetness to soften it up.  I grabbed a carton of sweetened lemonade from across the street and added about two cups of that to the mix.  Next, I added about half a cup of the syrup.  With a few more tweaks with each new ingredient I finally arrived at the perfect balance of sweet to tart, brining the sharp presence of alcohol down to a mere suggestion.  Mixed with ice and it was the perfect cooler on a sunny, summer Pride morning!

It's here that I have to give a shoutout to our neighbor, Y.  She came over right on time and before everyone else and was the instrumental set if taste buds and opinions that helped me complete this concoction.  Y, babe, I know this was not your cup of tea, but you took one for the team to save the day, and I appreciate that.  Clearly, we were successful.  As the picture shows, it was popular.  Peeps were so disappointed when the barrel ran dry two people were picking the tankard up off it's base and tipping it ten ways to Sunday to eek out the last few drops from the tap.  Ah, I love an enthusiastic Pride!

LOOK at all those "Jasmine Pride Punches"!

Rob Roy | 26 down 249 to go

Chicago this spring has been miserable.  I’m not sure if I’ve cracked this joke in an entry before, but even if I have, the weather’s been sucky enough that repeating it bears up:  I don’t remember moving to Seattle. 

So, we’re sitting on the deck, getting to the end of our Moscow Mules – a decidedly warm weather bev.  The Partner asks, “So what’s next?”  It’s at that moment that I realize the gloriously warm sunny day has turned gray and damp yet again.  This is no longer Moscow Mule weather. 

“Feels like a we need something warming, with a brown liquor,” says I.

“Yes, I’ll have a Manhattan!” says he.

We’re not making repeats today, thinks I, and I hit the bible.  Rob Roy!

While H & M declare, “When all else fails, we turn to the Rob Roy ….”  Here’s my declaration:  A Rob Roy  is the poor, country cousin to the Manhattan.  Wooo!  What a difference an ingredient makes.  Not wanting to give up on a second round, I made another for myself.  Sometimes drinks get better with another round.  And for The Partner:  a Manhattan.  (“No, really, can I please have a Manhattan and can you make it with the good bourbon?”  Sure, baby.  Why miss a chance for a side-by-side comparison?) 

Seriously.  Night and day.  And it’s not just the difference between a maraschino and a lemon twist.  A RR is noticeably rougher.  Less refined.  It stings the back of the throat – relatively speaking – to be sure.  It even looks anemic sitting next to its Uptown cousin. Ok, really, I guess it wasn’t horrible.  But if a bartender can make this then he can make a Manhattan and why wouldn’t I want a Manhattan then?  Unlike H & M, we’ll be able to try another route when all else fails.

From time to time, I must admit that The Partner has a point. 

(Don’t tell him that though or there’ll be no living with him.)


Old Fashioned
2 oz. whiskey
½ oz. sweet vermouth
2 dashes Angostura bitters
Stir with cracked ice; strain into chilled cocktail glass; garnish with a lemon twist or a maraschino cherry.

Moscow Mule | 25 down 250 to go

It’s been a week.  Actually, it’s been several weeks.  In a strange flip, I had to work on Saturday and The Partner did not.  I made it known that when I got home I would be thirsty and would want something tall, cold and refreshing.  By 7am yesterday morning I had already settled on the Moscow Mule to fit the bill. 

The Partner had attempted to make these years ago when I found a set of the special copper cups and asked what they were for.  He snapped right to and made some in response to the question.  To be honest, I don’t remember liking it too much.

This time around, though, it was just what the doctor ordered.  The ginger beer made for a nice spicy note that hit the tongue and throat with a good gingery smack.  The copper totally imparts a metallic note.  The Partner says that’s what he likes about it – that copper zing reacting with the acid of the lime and the zap of the ginger.  I, on the other hand, am still uncertain about this.  I am certain, however, that if I put the contact end of my power cord to the cup it could recharge my cell phone!  I made it both in the copper and in a Collins glass.  Both were cold and refreshing and one can absolutely taste the difference between copper and crystal.  No matter the vessel, these go down super easy.  [Say it like Wile E. Coyote says, "Suuuper-Geeenius...."]

H & M tell the elaborate story of how the MM came to be.  Here's the 30 second version.  A Connecticut-based food and liquor distributor rescues Smirnov vodka from the Bolsheviks and its exile in France, anglicizes the name to Smirnoff and nearly gets fired for it because it's the 1930's, Americans don't drink vodka, and there's the whole pinko-commie thing happening.  He hits the Left Coast with his vodka and meets up with a failing Hollywood restaurateur who makes ginger beer on the side to keep his business afloat.  They in turn get together with a friend who also has business troubles and is trying to unload a stash of copper cups she bought from some copper factory.  Together they concoct the Moscow Mule, sold in copper cups with a kicking mule on them -- "warning of its bite."  During the Korean War, the MM gains notoriety due to a fit of typically American anti-communist pique akin to the whole "freedom fries" nonsense after 9/11.  Then with some post-pique marketing legerdemain it becomes the drink of the youth culture.  Only in America.

Moscow Mule
2 oz. vodka
1 oz. lime juice
4 oz. ginger beer
Stir the vodka and lime juice in a glass with cracked ice.  Top with the ginger beer and garnish with a lime wedge.


UPDATE:  Ahhh...  the mule!  How refreshing.  What a palate cleanser.  What a reset during a long, hot day on the roof.  And while there have been only four vodka bevs featured on the blog, it's good to have this one available when dear friend, S., is over.  Can't drink gin, you know.  Causes barney-mugging.  Next time you're antiquing, do look for the official cups.  They're a definite conversation starter.  Plus, just look how they sweat!  Ahhh.... 

All caught up

Well, the blog is finally caught up and updated.  There's been a lot going on in the lives of The Dilettante and The Partner in the last few weeks.  Work has been crazed.  Birthday and holiday weekends have come and gone.  But mainly we've been under the weather and totally unmotivated to cocktail or blog.  However, as of this post, the blog is completely caught up.  Work is still crazed and health is not yet 100%.  But hopefully we're turning a corner.

Some housekeeping:  All the "new" entries have been posted in their chronologically imbibed order.  So you will find them in posts back in May.  They include Maiden's Prayer/Between the Sheets, Old Fashioned, and a Cocktail Chat linked to the MP/BtS.

We're looking forward to getting back on track and hope you'll continue to join us along the way.

Peace,

The Dilettante

Cocktail Chat | Prohibition v. Today

Quite a time, Prohibition.  At a time when liquor production and consumption were driven underground, purveyors used drink names to entice imbibers.  Pussyfoots, Cubanolas, Bosom Caressers, Maiden’s Prayers, Between the Sheets were just some of the “clever” names for cocktails of the day.  And since Prohibition did away with a regulated alcohol industry, that meant individuals were left to brew their own liquor for speakeasies and customers.  The results were often low-quality and foul tasking brews.  Thus many other – usually sweet and upwards of 5 to 8 ingredients – were added to mask the terrible flavor of the base spirits. 

Additionally, many inferior brews had the unfortunate & permanent side effect of killing many of those who drank them.  In 1927 alone approximately 12,000 people died from drinking substandard, homemade spirits.  Interestingly enough, it’s worth noting here that the common notions of blindness & death from drinking poorly distilled spirits is a myth.  These deleterious effects were a result of people mixing ethyl (grain) alcohol with methyl (wood) alcohol to extend the overall product.  It’s methyl that’ll blind or kill.  In fact, even low-grade distillation won’t kill.  Though poor distillation is likely to cause a hangover bad enough to make one pray for death if the levels of fusel alcohols are too high.  So there really is something to the notion of premium and top shelf liquors having less deleterious effects.  That is, if they’re highly distilled and not just a faddish label.  But I start to digress….  

All this fascinating info causes the Dilettante to consider two things:  First, in this day and age that is about as opposite from Prohibition as one can get, with vast quantities of some of the finest liquors ever produced, why are cocktail menus hawking such cloying concoctions calling themselves “martinis” such as the Godiva Chocolate, Key Lime Pie, and the Tango Mango?  Certainly there’s no need to mask inferior base products with all that sugar and nonsense.  Given what The Partner and I have experienced through this grand experiment thus far, namely that many classic cocktails tend towards the bitter and sour, perhaps the current cocktail age is a reaction to that of our parents’ and grandparents’.  Or perhaps it’s simply a matter of taste.  Back in the day, the taste was towards the sour & bitter.  Today it’s towards the sweet.  Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that there are so many different flavors that can be infused into vodka that mixologists feel compelled to create concoctions that make use of them.  It’s kind of like war –rarely is a weapon created that doesn’t get used.

The second consideration is the cleverness quotient.  A quick perusal of Drinknation.com gives us a flurry of silly names that are familiar to most anyone: Sex on the Beach, Kamikaze, Blow Job, Incredible Hulk, Redheaded Slut, Liquid Marijuana.  While bartenders are still creating goofy names, what’s changed is that they’re not as clever as they are obvious in their references to sex & drunkenness.

I think something’s lost when we rely on flavoring a base and letting that carry the cocktail.  Cocktailing is not unlike making tea or coffee.  All three kinds of drinks include a certain amount of ritual and ceremony in their preparation and a level of sociability in their consumption.  There’s an artistry and process with cocktailing that is as much a part of the whole shebang as the drinking.  After all, what’s more interesting and exciting:  getting some grapefruit flavored vodka, splashing some 7-Up in it, and tossing a lemon twist on top?  Or shaking gin, Cointreau, & lemon juice until the tin is frosty, frosty, then popping a bottle of Champagne to top the mix with, taking a sip and discovering, "Hey, it’s Fresca!"
 
Before March, I wouldn’t think to pose such a question.  Since then, I’ve come to prefer the latter for the artistry, the conversation, the fellowship, the surprise, and of course, the gentle buzz.


References:
Harrington, Paul, and Laura Moorhead. Cocktail: the Drinks Bible for the 21st Century. New York: Viking, 1998. Print.

Smiley, Ian. The Home Distilling Professionals - Smiley's Home Distilling. Web. 10 June 2011. .

Drinknation.com. Web. 10 June 2011. .

Cocktail Chat | Recent Repeats

It’s been a crazed couple of weeks and the Dilettante has been a bit remiss about keeping up with the bevy of new bevs we’ve been trying.  But between work, The Partner’s birthday, and a holiday weekend, there’s been precious little time to write.  My goal is to get everything up to date this week.

In the meantime, I thought I’d share some recent repeats we’ve enjoyed on the social scene and on the roof now that the weather in the Old Northwest is finally looking less like the weather of the New Northwest.
I’m here to report that I’ve living the whole point of this project, not ordering my old Ketel and instead have settled into Manhattans when I go out.  It’s tasty and one any bartender can make.  Back in March, Betz commented on the Manhattan post that a bartender once recommended that she try a dash of Worcestershire in her Manhattan.  One Kiss Creations then tried it and liked it.  Intrigued, I gave it a shot.  It’s wonderful!  When just a dash is added, the sauce doesn’t give any discernable flavor, actually.  Instead it imparts a depth, some dimension.  The foodie in my wants to say it’s umami, the 5th taste the Japanese have identified as “savoriness”.  It’s an enjoyable counterpoint to the sweetness of the rye & vermouth.  So I highly recommend!  Thanks for the suggestion, Betz!

For the Chicagoan followers, head over to Sprout, Dale Levitsky’s place, of Top Chef fame.  He makes his own Worcestershire, crazy man that he is.  Not only are the Manhattans incredibly well made, but if you ask for the homemade stuff they’ll add it to your drink.  (Then be sure to order the Steak course on the tasting menu.  But be warned, it’ll be a tough transition back to Lea & Perrin’s.)

As the weather’s turned warmer here in Chicago, I’ve gone back to the “summer” tag.  Twice now I’ve made the Pegu at home.  I then ordered it out, again at Sprout.  Despite the fact that H & M say it’s making a resurgence, the server had no idea what it was and needed some coaching.  Taking the chance paid off handsomely.  He even asked if I had a preference of bitters.  He then wanted feedback to take back to the bartender.  Impressively, the first try was spot on – pale orange color, citrusy dryness, refreshingly cool.

The other cocktail we’ve had now more than once is the Cuba Libre, both at home and out.  This one too, needs a little coaching if ordered out.  Be on alert, though.  If you find a mixologist who has heard of a CL, be prepared to coach that this is not simply a rum & coke by a hoity toity name, or that’s what you’ll likely get.  I busted this one out for the season inaugural of our roof deck.  While The Partner sipped wine spritzers in the 90 degree sunshine, I went to CL route.  When our friends, C., N. and baby A. dropped in for a surprise visit, C. joined me.  “Wow,” he said, coming up from his first sip.  “This is nice…  I like it!  It’s very refreshing…  I could drink a lot of these, especially on a hot summer day.”  

Not only do I love validation, I also love not drinking alone! The great thing about the Cuba Libre too is that it’s a soothing hair of the dog after a night of over-indulgence.

What’s been very interesting as I venture out with new beverage requests is the responses of the servers and bartenders tasked with stretching filling my order.  They’re expanding their own repertoire and their responses have run the gamut.   Everything from the server at Sprout who wanted feedback for the mixologist and asked my bitters preference, to the bartender who sent out a bottle of Worcestershire sauce with my drink because he was too timid to add the unexpected accent to my drink.   Still another listened to my ingredients list and then consulted a recipe book he had stashed under the bar.  I love that one.  There’s no shame in not knowing if you know where to go to find the info you need. 
So far, taking the chance to ask for a new cocktail when going out and coach it along makes for some great conversation with new and interesting people.  Plus, it’s good to have the only unique cocktail at the table or along the bar.  After all, these are the things of which cocktailing’s all about.

Old Fashioned | 24 down 251 to go

In another nod to the ancestors and not wanting to work too hard for this evening’s cocktail, we went with the Old Fashioned.  This is another one I remember the adults drinking at parties when I was a kid.  The cherry and the orange in the glass always seemed so exotic to me.  And the rich smell of the bourbon mingling with the pipe smoke from my father and grandfather… heady stuff.

This is another super easy one that requires some muddling, which is always fun.  And can I say, wow, right to the brain!  Starting with a real kick, they get sweeter and easier as they goes down.  The combination of bitters and sugar adds that je ne sais quoi dimensionality as they balance and counter each other, just as they do in a Champagne Cocktail.

H&M dispute whether the OF may have been the first American cocktail.  Regardless, it’s indeed and oldie.  They offer two versions of the history of the OF and say they won’t take sides.  I on the other hand will.  My fave of the two is the far more interesting one that traces its origins back to the Whiskey Rebellion of the early 1790’s.  When the new Federal government levied its very first excise tax on whiskey to raise some money to pay down the national debt, folks on the frontier didn’t take it so well.  (Sin taxes?  Deficit spending?  Regionalism?  Tax rebellion?  What exactly has changed in 220 years?)  Westerners found it particularly onerous arguing it hit their pocketbooks harder than Easterners’ since farmers made whiskey from surplus grain left over from the harvest.  Whiskey also operated as an alternate currency since money on the frontier was often scarce.  Poor folks were sometimes paid in whiskey.  So for them it was also an income tax.  When tax officials tried to collect, in many instances the response turned violent.  This was particularly the case in the southwestern counties of Pennsylvania where the rebellion was centered.  In Kentucky, as it turns out, no one was trying to collect the tax.  So some farmers and tavern owners moved their whiskey operations there.  When they went, they took with them their recipe for the Old Fashioned.

As a result of this muddled history (yep, hadda do it!) there’s some disagreement about whether the bev was originally made with bourbon or rye.  Today however, use whichever is your fave and you’ll not only be correct, but you won’t be disappointed either.

Old Fashioned
2 oz. whiskey
2 dashes Angostura bitters
1 t. sugar
Splash of seltzer

In a chilled Old Fashioned glass, muddle sugar, bitters, orange wheel, and a maraschino cherry until the sugar is dissolved.  Add whiskey and ice and seltzer.  Stir.  Optional: garnish with a lemon twist.

Maiden's Prayer or Between the Sheets | 23 down 252 to go

Maiden's Prayer with edible flower garnish

Pussyfoots, Cubanolas, and Bosom Caressers are just some of the cocktails that kept the Maiden’s Prayer & Between the Sheets company during Prohibition.  There’s a lot of interesting info H & M share about cocktails & culture during this era.  I started to include it in this post, but it was going too far afield.  Instead, it can be found at this Cocktail Chat entry instead.

This is a sort of twofer.  When made with gin, it’s the Maiden’s Prayer and an aperitif.  When brandy is the base, it’s a digestif and called Between the Sheets.

It pays to make this one as a true top shelfer.  I mixed Hendrick’s gin, Bacardi light rum, & Cointreau.  If you can find them, use sweeter Meyer lemons for the juice.  Your jaw will hit the floor when you get to the cashier, but for two rounds they’re worth it.  The MP is wonderfully citrusy, light, bright, with just a hint of tartness to give it some dimension.  And simpler it couldn’t be with equal parts of all ingredients.   After we finished the Meyer lemon juice our appetites were primed for dinner and off we went to one of our favorite bistros (the fact that the chef’s Dutch has nothing to do with the love affair, I’m sure :-)

After dinner we came home & decided to give the aperitif a try.  While we had to “settle” for regular lemon juice, we did use Courvoisier for the brandy.  The Between the Sheets had a distinctively different note, obviously, with the brandy.  It had a mellow sweetness, not cloying at all.  The lemon juice and Cointreau maintained the citrusy notes for balance.

“What’s this one called now?” asked The Partner upon draining his glass.
“Between the Sheets,” I replied.
With that devilish smirk of his and a come hither glint in his eye he set down his empty and headed for the boudoir….  

Between the Sheets with lemon twist garnish

Maiden's Prayer/Between the Sheets

Equal parts of each (3/4 oz.)

+gin (Maiden's Prayer)/brandy (Between the Sheets)

+light rum

+Cointreau

+lemon juice

Shake with crushed ice, strain & pour into chilled  goblet or cocktail glass.  Garnish with lemon twist or edible flower.

Combustible Edison | 22 down 253 to go

Here in the Windy City the high got all the way to 46 degrees today.  It’s been gray and rainy for the last 72 hours and the wind chill today feels like it’s 36 degrees out.  Really?  It’s May 15th! Friday the temp dropped 20 degrees in about 10 minutes and by Happy Hour,  I must admit, my choice of the daiquiri was an attempt to “springify” the weather a bit.  But today, I just couldn’t fight Ma Nature.  So I mixed a batch of Combustible Edisons to warm things up.  My first (literally anyway) flaming cocktail  :-P

If you have some friends over who appreciate good cocktails and you feel like being a showman, make this one.  Not much tops the drama of ignited brandy and that ethereal blue flame streaming into a cocktail glass.  Prep your friends, though, before the first sip.  Campari and lemon juice make for a bitter first couple sips.  Ditto for the warmth of the bev.  Being used to icy cocktails means this is not unlike an American getting his first beer in England.  But The Partner noted that he thought the warmth worked in the CE’s favor.  Cold with this level of bitterness might be even more challenging. 

As you sip the body and flavor change, becoming a bit syrupy in the mouth and less astringent.  By the bottom of the glass the lemon and brandy together are the predominant notes.

If you’re not feeling brave enough to light your cocktail on fire, shake the brandy along with the other ingredients and call it an Edisonian.  In the name of research, I tried it this way too.  Contrary to The Partner’s prediction, it was good cold as well, though notably different.  Thinner in the mouth, lighter and with bright citrus flavors it goes down a bit easier than the Combustible version.  It’s dryness lasts well past the last sip which leaves a rather pleasant memory as the evening progresses.

Combustible Edison/Edisonian
2 oz. brandy
1 oz. Campari
1 oz. lemon juice

Warm the brandy in a chafing dish.  Shake the Campari & lemon juice with cracked ice and pour into chilled cocktail glass.  Light the brandy and pour into the other ingredients in the cocktail glass.  Garnish with lemon twists.

Daiquiri | 21 down 254 to go

Drink the daiquiri cold, cold, cold!

One of my best and earliest memories of my DC college days was going off campus for the first time with friends.  We went to Georgetown, cruising M St. as most college students do.  It was at a cool little joint called The Daiquiri Factory in the back of Café Rondo that I had my introduction to what I thought was the daiquiri.  Turns out, they weren’t even close.  Up until now I thought they were big “spirituous Slurpees”, as H & M call them, and came in flavors like strawberry & banana & pineapple with some rum mixed in.  But I was 19 at the time.  I’m all growed up now.

H & M tell us that an American industrialist is credited with inventing the daiquiri while working in Cuba and naming it after a seaside town of the same name.  But odds are good that Cubans had been enjoying this mix long before some gringo capitalist gave it a name.  Apparently, the daiquiri was JFK’s fave, enjoying a couple before dinner.  That tidbit shot the cocktail into the stratosphere of popularity.  (Is anyone else appreciating the historical irony here?)

A true daiquiri, I should think, would be very popular these days with the current tastes for the tart & sour.  The first two sips are a little jarring.  But from the third on, this frosty imbibe is light and refreshing.  With all of 3 ingredients, it couldn’t be easier to mix.  Squeeze the limes fresh for the juice.  Adding a dash more simple syrup and rum makes it a bit less tart.  But use restraint if adding rum.  Too much and it’s just too sharp.  Also, the colder the better on this one, so shake it until the tin is so cold it frosts and your hand burns with cold.  Have a refreshing summer afternoon!

Daiquiri
1 1/2 oz. light rum
3/4 oz. lime juice
1/4 oz. simple syrup

Shake with cracked ice; strain into chilled cocktail glass and garnish with lime wheel.

Cocktail Chat | A belated Easter cocktail

Ok, this is way late, I know.  But it must be posted.  

Check out the Easter card my sis-in-law sent.  Thinking of the Dilettante even during the high holy days? Jesus at Cana would be so proud!

Cocktail Chat | An Original Cocktail for Mother's Day

This entry is a Cocktail Chat since it is not a drink out of Cocktail.  However, it is absolutely an inspiration that's resulted from this undertaking.

A couple hours ago, I thought it'd be fun to create a cocktail for Mother's Day.  Since I can't be with my mom today, I thought I'd design something she would enjoy.  So mom, if you're reading this, Happy Mother's Day.  This bev's for you!

Once the weather warms up, mom loves a good white wine spritzer.  So that's where this drink begins.  But since this is a special day and the tipple a part of the Dilettante project, it couldn't be just a spritzer.  The fact that mom isn't big on liquor, finding accents was a bit of a challenge until I thought about the aperitifs she enjoys.  So this will have a citrus note to it.  I'm sure I'll tweak the recipe over time, especially if I get some feedback and ideas from mom herself.  

But in the meantime, I offer the first draft of the Diane Spritzer!  May it refresh on a hot summer day!

The Diane Spritzer

4 1/2 oz. Sauvignon Blanc

2 oz. Cointreau or Grand Marnier

1 oz. gin

1 oz. lemon juice

4 dashes orange bitters

seltzer to taste

Stir with cracked ice; pour into a wine glass filled with ice; garnish with a lemon wheel.  For some added dimension, shake 3 dashes of Angostura bitters on a sugar cube and place in the bottom of the glass.

Blue Devil | 20 down 255 to go

What can we say about the Blue Devil besides "1 dash blue vegetable coloring" is less than a drop?  Not much else, I'm afraid.  There's not much that's memorable about this one, save the startling colors.  And that's not due to over-indulging.  One was enough on this one as well.  Honestly, I can't recall a single note, flavor or aroma that I could use to describe this.  Maybe because it's just so blue?

Although, I suppose peeing green the next morning isn't something one forgets in a hurry.





Blue Devil
2 oz. gin
1/2 oz. maraschino liqueur
1/2 oz lime juice
1 dash blue vegetable coloring

Shake with cracked ice; strain into chilled cocktail glass; garnish with a maraschino cherry.

Bitter | 19 down 256 to go

Bitter: a cocktail to be appreciated if not liked.

Bitter is an amazingly complex cocktail and the name perfectly describes it.  That said, it's not one I'd say we liked so much as appreciated.  A bonus of mixing this bev was finding another opportunity to use an ounce of Chartreuse (the level of which is now half a finger below the neck of the bottle).  

Besides the name, I knew I'd have to sneak this one passed The Partner.  He loathes licorice, so the Pernod would be a challenge.  When he left the room, I quickly scrambled to concoct.  But even at a mere dash, the Pernod was so strong it filled the bar with its dark, syrupy scent.

The Bitter demanded our attention.  We paused TiVo to give it its due.  We drew in the nose, intrigued (scared?).  The first sip was a test to be sure.  But each one following revealed multiple layers of flavor.  The gin provided a sort of liquid canvas accenting the herbal Chartreuse and citrusy lemon.  The Pernod, while contributing a strong licorice aroma to the cocktail, surprisingly enough, was not so much a flavor on the tongue as a dimension or depth.  Kind of an alcoholic umami.  

This is perhaps the strongest proof yet that tastes certainly have changed when it comes to cocktailing.  For the evening one Bitter was enough.  Still, characterizing it as either Make it Again or Once was Enough would be inaccurate.  Perhaps we need a new category that captures a beverage such as this one.  Perhaps something like…"Respected".

Bitter
1 1/2 oz. gin
1/2 oz. Chartreuse
1/2 oz. lemon juice
1 dash Pernod


Shake with cracked ice; strain into chilled cocktail glass; garnish with a lemon twist.