The Blinker

This is one B and I have been making since we found it in our copy of the original edition of Ted Haigh’s Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails.  On a Christmas aside, we just got a copy of the new edition from B’s parents.  It has several new interesting cocktails (stay tuned), an updated list of suppliers and a nice spiral binding that lies flat on the counter.  Definitely a nice addition to you cocktail library, especially if happen to have a set of generous parents on hand.
Anyway, back the cocktail.   According to Ted Haig, who gives original credit for the cocktail to The Official Mixer’s Manual by Patrick Gavin Duffy (ca. 1934), the original version called for grenadine.  Apparently raspberry syrup was an innovation by the good Dr. Cocktail., which he claims was a common substitution of  and after which he “never looked back”.  Being a scientist, I tried it both ways, including some very nice pomegranate grenadines, and I concur that the raspberry syrup is an improvement.  It’s interesting that Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails is the only book in my library that has this recipe in it.

The Blinker

• 2 oz. Rye Whiskey
• 1 oz Grapefruit Juice
• 1 tsp. Raspberry Syrup

Give it all a nice shake in a cocktail shaker full of ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with a twist of lemon.

I keep tinkering with the Blinker.  Originally, I used carton grapefruit juice and Torani raspberry syrup.  This time is used fresh squeezed grapefruit juice, and it was a definite improvement.  I think next time I will try it with a more interesting raspberry syrup (either making it or using one based on whole raspberries).  I’lll keep you posted as to the results.

B & I wish you a happy new year.  Cheers.

The Sazerac

This cocktail has a lot of things I like.  It’s old. It has Rye, absinthe and screwball ingredients (Peychaud’s bitters).  Oh, and it’s a good cocktail.  According to David Wondrich in Esquire Drinks, the cocktail takes it’s name from the from the Sazerac de forge et Fils congnac with which it was originally made before the Civil War.  On this note, Ti Adelaide Martin and Lally Brennan, in their book In the Land of Cocktails: Recipes and Adventures from the Cocktail Chicks, claim that the switch to rye came when phylloxera wiped out the grapes in France, making cognac hard to get in this country. They also make the bold, though perhaps slightly un-Southern, assertion the would rather use cognac than bourbon if rye isn’t available. I agree.

This cocktail (again a David Wondrich assertion) likely shares a common heritage with the early version of the Old Fashioned Cocktail before the advent of muddled fruit.  I should probably do a post on that one as well.  Wondrich goes on to bemoan how the cocktail really can’t be made without absinthe.  From the eyes staring from behind my cocktail glass, this wasn’t a problem. Now, onto the drink…

Sazerac

• A sugar cube
• 2 1/2 oz Rye Whiskey
• 3 drops Peychaud’s Bitters
• 1 dash Angostura  Bitters
• 1/2 oz. Absinthe

Chill a rocks glass well in the freezer.  In  a second rocks glass, muddle the sugar cube with a few drops water.  Add a few ice cubes.  Add the rye and bitters.  Stir well.  Add the absinthe to the chilled cocktail glass and swirl  to coat.  Drink any of the absinthe doesn’t stick to the glass (you’d be surprised by how many cocktail books proffer the idiotic advice to pour out the left over absinthe).   Strain the cocktail into the absinthe coated glass and garnish with a twist of lemon.

A couple of my thoughts…  I think a fresh ice cube or two keeps the drink from getting warm (heresy to Sazerac drinkers).  If you haven’t lost all control of decorum at that though, a splash (less than a couple of ounces) of seltzer from a soda siphon (outright blastphemy to Sazerac drinkers) really makes this drink a bit more approachable.  Okay, I now can’t go to New Orleans without risking lynching, but there you have it.

A special thanks to B for her stellar photography of this cocktail (and a fair number of the others that I didn’t mention).

Cheers

P.S. If any of my readers prefer beer to cocktails, and happen to be going to Oshkosh, Wisconsin, be sure to check out Riding the Tavern Beer Trail, where you can read about the exploits of my in-laws and their friends as they drink a beer in the 60+ taverns in Oshkosh.

Drinking advice for the undead

First let me say it again.  I love absinthe.  The real stuff.

This cocktail comes from a whole family that dates back to the late 19th century.  Credit for this particular version, according to Ted “Dr. Cocktail” Haigh’s Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails, is given to the #2 Savoy barman, Harry Craddock.

This is one of those great classic era drinks that highlights the alchemy of a truly great cocktail.

The Corpse Reviver #2

• 1 oz. Gin
• 1 oz. Cointreau
• 1 oz. Lillet Blanc
• 1 oz. Fresh Lemon Juice.
• 1-3 drops absinthe (I went with 3-see line 1)

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.  Drop a stemless cherry in the bottom.

Both Brenda and I really liked this cocktail. I with the good Docotor that it is now one of our favorites.

I think I will close with the admonition of the great Harry Craddock,
“Four taken in swift succession will unrevive the corpse again.”

Happy Halloween

 

The Aviation Cocktail

I’ve been thinking about his one for a while. It started out as something to do with a recently acquired bottle of creme de violette, which in turn was the result of my endless quest for arcane booze. In many ways this cocktail is the embodiment of this quest, having not only creme de violette but also Maraschino liqueur. The recipe I used is from David Wondrich’s Imbibe, his take on Jerry Thomas’s original Bartender’s Guide. Even though the cocktail gained prominence with Harry Cradocks Savoy Cocktail Book from 1930, the cocktail predates prohibition-the earliest mention Wondrich finds was a passing mention in the New York Times in 1911. The first recipe (and the one Wondrich presents) was in a 1916 volume called Recipes for Mixed drink by the head bartender, Hugo Ensslin, at the Wallick House Hotel in Times Square.

Aviation Cocktail

• 1 1/2 oz. Lemon Juice
• 3oz. Gin
• 1 Tbsp. Maraschino Liqueur
• 1 Tbsp. Creme de Violette

The Creme de Violette I found was Rothman & Winter. I doubled Wondrich’s recipe, which would have called for 2 tsp, but I like the extra teaspoon’s worth.

Apparently by the time the Aviation was all the rage at Harry Craddock’s Savoy in London, the creme de violette had been omitted. Personally, while it’s certainly good both ways, I actually think that it adds more than just color. There is a really nice floral note that really adds a pleasant complexity to the drink.

So, while this drink started out as a way to soak up another of my arcane liquor acquisitions, it really has grown on me. I think it’s now one of my summer favorites.

Cin Cin

The Pink Lady

Haigh also points out that you can go into any bar and, if you dare, order one, and you will never get the right thing (he argues that this is the original version of the drink).  Cocktaildb.com has no less that seven versions of the drink, containing varying ingredients including cream.  Yikes.  So, unless you are on pretty intimate negotiating terms with your bartender, this is one probably best enjoyed at home.

The Pink Lady

• 1 1/2 oz gin
• 1/2 oz applejack
• Juice of half a lemon
• 1 egg white
• 2 dashes real pomegranate grenadine

Shake vigorously and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.  Garnish with something (lemon twist would seem like a good idea, though the picture in Vintage Cocktails has a cherry).

Note… you really do need to give it a good shake with the egg white.

Pip pip.

The Blackthorn Cocktail

I was in the mood for something I hadn’t heard of before.  Not new, just new to me.  B was also thinking some thing with Dubonnet Rouge.  According to the good Doctor’s Vintage Cocktails and Forgotten Spirits (now in a new edition that lays flat on the counter), versions of this cocktial have been around since the nineteenth century with his version being a later edition.  The Blackthorn is named after the plum-bearing shrub  that produces the sloe berry (from which we get sloe gin)  This version, interestingly, has no sloe gin.  Haigh claims that the the cocktail has a “plummy flavor” if your taste buds are imaginative–personally, I thought it might take more one to get to that level of imagination, but I can his point.

The Blackthorn Cocktail

• 2 oz. gin
• 3/4 Oz Dubonette Rouge
• 3/4 oz kirschwasser

Stir on ice,  strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with a twist of lemon and a cherry.

At first this seemed a bit thin and a little sweet, but a couple of sips in it started to grown on me.  It’s a little sneaky that way.  I can see that you could get in trouble if you don’t keep an eye on this one.

As an aside, Dubonette Rouge is a fortified wine that’s billed as an apartif. Apparently it’s been around since 1846 and is a mix of fortified wine with mushed up herbs and quinine, so next time you need to colonize a malarial-endemic part of the world, this is the stuff.  The companies website seemed to be full of lore about the French foreign legion and what not.

Cin-Cin

The Stinger

If last week’s post was an afternoon’s light hearted frivolity, then this would be pretty much be the opposite. The is one of B’s standards for polishing off an evening or the otherwise somnolent task of digesting a heavy meal. As with a good number of cocktails (drinkers make lousy historians) the origins of the Stinger are obscure. David Wondrich talks about it in both his Esquire Drinks and in Imbibe (his rendition of Jerry Thomas’s Bon Vivant’s Companion).  It’s clearly a pre-prohibition ditty that was almost exclusively consumed as an after dinner drink until some time in the 20’s when Reginald Vanderbilt started using them as a lubricant before the meal.  Social trendetter that he was, I still can’t see it.  The Stinger just has the feel of a nightcap or a digestif.

The Stinger

• 2 oz. Brandy
• 1/2 oz. Creme de Menthe (white)

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

It pretty straight forward affair, but I’ll throw out a couple of notes:

1. The ratio of Brandy:Creme de Menthe varies.  May recipes call for 3:1.  Personally we think this is a bit sweet and minty (a la drinking Scope).  5:1 is pretty much a brandy on the rocks (fine, but don’t call it a Stinger), so we have settled on 4:1.
2. Creme de Menthe comes in two varieties, green and white. The green is mostly for Pousse cafes and the like; my mother also claims it to be a popular topping for ice crjueam in the late 60’s at women’s luncheons (she used to teach home ec and would know).  White is the clear stuff and what you need for this drink unless you want a really ugly brown/green sludge.
3. Creme de Menthe and Peppermint Schnapps are very different beasts.  Even though they are generally made in much the same way, the mint flavor is quite different.  The Peppermint Schnapps tends to have a much harsher overpowering mint flavor, so the stinger is pretty much undrinkable when made with Peppermint Schnapps.

Pip pip.

Beachcomber Cocktail

I was in the mood for something new and frivolous.  Plan 1)  that new Porsche Boxter S.  B did point out, however, that it was $56K, would screw up our carpool parking and I would still need to find something for a blog post.   Well, one must be true to the carpool.  So, plan 2)  hunt around for something with rum.  Enter the Beachcomber Cocktail.  I found it in that venerable classic of the bartending world, The Joy of Mixology.  Gary Regan claim that this version is a reformulation of Trader Vic’s 1948 recipe.

So, what is it?
Beachcomber Cocktail

• 2 oz light rum (Flor de Cana is what I am currenlty using)
• 1 oz triple sec (Patron Citronge is my current favorite)
• 1/2 oz fresh lime juice
• 1/4 oz Maraschino Liqueur

Shake with ice and stain into a chilled cocktail glass–tiki is nice if you have it.
“So, what about it?” you ask.  Well.  Frivolous is a pretty good word.  I like it.  It’s light; it’s refreshing-ish, but it is a bit sweet.  That much triple sec and Maraschino compared with lime juice will do that.    Regan invites reformulation so let’s have at it. I would first lose the Maraschino. It’s already too sweet. I would then cut the triple sec back to 1/2 oz.   This is still going to be sweet.  The problem is you could just leave out the triple sec but then you have a daiquiri-a legendary cocktail in its own right.  So for this to be its own cocktail, I think we have to have enough triple sec to essentially leave this in the sour drink category.  I am still debating the Maraschino though; I vacillate.   May have to try it both ways next time and see.  The other option is to double the amount of lime juice, but then the rum starts to get lost.  We’ll next time thought of Porsche start dancing in my head, I guess I’ll tinker.

The Emerson

I was looking back through the cocktails that I wanted to write about and four this one from back in May, 2007.  Okay, curious. Why hadn’t I written about this one yet?  I looked back at the cocktail hazed notes that we jotted down at the time and they seemed favorable.  Well, today’s the day.   Step one, head to bookshelf and find the recipe. Hmmm. this is becoming clearer.  I think that I made it just after I got a bottle of Maraschino and found this recipe that used it, because the only version of this recipe that I can find is in my increasingly vintage copy of Mr. Boston (63rd ed., ca. 1989).  Curious.  I don’t normally use Mr. Boston, because, while containing many recipes, they are genernally neither 1)authoratitive, 2) popular nor 3) good.   Enough of a rant about the good people who publish Mr. Boston’s Official Bartenders Guide.  The recipe it gives is:

1 1/2 oz. Gin

1 oz. Sweet Vermouth

Juice of 1/2 lime (1/2 oz.)

1 tsp. Maraschino Liqueur

Shake with ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

It’s actually kind of an enjoyable refreshing cocktail, if a little sweet.

I did a little searching for some background, history, etc.  Nada.  I mentioned none of the books in my modestly extensive collection seemed to even mention this cocktail.  I even have Ted Saucier’s Bottoms Up! on loan from the university library. It is in CocktailDB.com and I found a reference on Liquor is Quicker.  Both mention that the recipe should contian Old Tom gin rather than London Dry  and the ratios are  slightly different.  DrinkSnob (author of Liquor is Quicker) also mentions that he found the recipe in David Embury’s The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks.  I think I might have to look into getting a copy of this one.  Original copies (either from 1948 or 1958, seem to be going for hundreds of dollars, but recently Mud Puddle Books has reissued it with what appear to be introductions by Robert Hess and Audrey Saunders (of Pegu Club fame).

Delmonico’s No. 1

Well, this is just quick one. First the recipe from David Wondrich’s Esquire Drinks:

• 3/4 oz. gin
• 1/2 oz. brandy
• 1/2 oz. Sweet Vermouth
• 1/2 oz. Dry Vermouth
• 2 dashes Angostura Bitters

Stir with ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

Part of what makes this post short is the cocktail.  It’s good.  Just not great.  It’s very drinkable and has something of an edge, but it just doesn’t have that magical harmony that makes a cocktail great.

David Wondrich claims the Delmonico’s No. 1 is a pre-prohibition cocktail from the Delmonico restaurant in New York.  He also has a pretty hilarious rant about most house modern house cocktails.  He describes this one as “…, a mellow, wood-paneled little number without anything in particular to distinguish it beyond good taste and tasting good.”  Way better said than my version, but I guess that’s why he gets paid to drink and write for Esquire and I’m writing a free blog.  Oh well, at least I don’t have to deal with hoards of trendy celebrities and  worry about what I’m wearing.