The Essence of Simplicity

To quote a recent New York Times article by Pete Wells,  “If it’s purple and looks like it came from Mr. Softee, it’s not a daiquiri, no matter what the bartender says.”

David  Wondrich, in his regrettably out-of-print book Esquire Drinks, has the daiquiri as one of his four pillars of the cocktail world.  It is a little odd to write about the daiquiri, the essence of simplicity, a couple of years after writing about the more complicated Hemmingway Daiquiri, which contains two citrus juices and an extra screwball liquor.

The magic of the daiquiri (and what makes it a respectable cocktail, unlike those “blenderific” cloying concoctions from the 70s) is the balance between just four ingredients: rum, lime juice, sugar and ice.  Unfortunately most of the recipes I ran accross are a bit vague for my taste, specifying juice from 1/2 lime or 1 lime.  I just bought limes today.  They were 8/$1, really nice looking, but small.  For this reason I would prefer a volume.  So here’s what I have come up with…

The Daiquiri

• 3 oz. rum
• 1 oz. fresh lime juice
• 1/2 oz. simple syrup

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.  Garnish with a wheel of lime.

I did deviate a little from the light rum used in daiquiris, which makes a fine drink.  Instead I used an aged rum from the Dominican, and a very pleasant substitution it was.   Must remember to thank the inlaws again for that nice little stocking stuffer.

The Pisco Sour

This all starts with a stocking stuffer my father-in-law gave me for Christmas a couple of years ago, the July/August 2007 issue of Imbibe Magazine.  They had an article pisco, on the brandy of Peru and (though highly disputed by Peruvians apparently) Chile.  This intrigued me, an so begins a short pisco lesson (okay, a bunch of stuff that a I stole from elsewhere on the internet).   Pisco begins like any brandy, by distilling fermented crushed grapes.  Unlike more traditional brandies, the eau de vie (unaged alcoholic distillate) is put into short clay jugs that are lined with beeswax, called a Pisco.  Wikipedia, the font of all mostly-true knowledge, claims that it can now be aged for a minimum of three months in glass, stainless steel or other inert material. Peruvian Pisco falls into four categories:

1. Puro— made from a single variety of grape, usually the traditional Quebranta.
2. Aromatic— Again, made from a single variety, but usually on of the Muscat  family.
3. Mosto Verde (Green Must)—distilled from grape must, the crushed grapes including the solids called pomace that has only partially fermented and contains residual grape sugars.
4. Acholado (Half-breed)—a blended  of musts or wine from several varieties of grape.

This is all particularly fascinating since all but one of the four or five piscos that I have found give any indication as to which category they belong.  According to Imbibe, during the middle of the 19th century, there was extensive trade between San Francisco and Peru.  This led to pisco being San Francisco’s top-selling liquor with the prospecting gold rush crowd.  It however did not fare will after prohibition and so, until this article, I had never heard of the stuff.  But that fact all the more piqued my interest, so being Wisconsin, we headed to one of the most bizarre liquor stores that I have ever been in, Club Liquor in Neenah-Menasha, WI.  From the outside it looks like a seedy tavern-liquor store combo.  Inside, while it isn’t what you might call a fin retail establishment, they have everything including a COUPLE of $150 bottle of Jonnie Walker blue label just sitting on the shelf.  Well, I picked up a bottle of Don Cesar Pisco Puro and made a pisco sour for the family. All in all, everybody pretty much liked it.  So, we decided to get some when we got back to California and picked up some Pisco Montesierpe, a venerable old brand.

Pisco Sour

• 3 oz. pisco
• 2 oz. simple syrup
• 1 oz. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
• 1 egg white
• 2 dashes Angostura bitters

Shake vigorously with ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

This cocktail uses an egg white to add body  and froth to the drink.  It really is quite good, but the egg white does tend to freak out many people.  Just remember booze kills bacteria; lemon juice kills bacteria.  If this doesn’t help, buy pasteurized eggs (and then don’t tell your guest until the second one).

It is interesting, the Don Cesar had a less aggressive, less plant-like taste than the Pisco Montesierpe.  Our Pisco Montesierpe reminded me a little of rhum agricole, which is made from cane juice rather than molasses.  I don’t know type of Pisco it is, I am guessing it’s probably the acholado.  If you know or want to hazard a better guess, leave a comment.   I actually think that the Don Cesar makes a bit more balanced pisco sour.  At any rate the Montesierpe has a more intense, though harsher flavor.

Working back to a name…

It all started out so simply.  It’s summer. Limes are eight for a dollar.  I like gimlets (especially gin, though vodka ones can slake the thrist in a pinch).  So no problem.   Make a gimlet, but use fresh lime juice and a splash of simple syrup.  Only problem?  A gimlet, by definition in at least a half dozen of my cocktail books, requires Roses bottled lime juice cordial.  It’s true,  Rose’s lime does impart a distinctive taste that can’t be replicated with fresh lime juice.  So that settles it.  I did NOT make a gimlet.  The thing is, I actually think that gimlets (even at 3:1 or 4:1 gin-to-Rose’s), it’s simply too sweet.  What’s funny is that some gimlet recipes suggest adding simple syrup to the Rose’s lime and gin.  Oh well, not for me.  So that leaves us only one question.  What exactly did I make?  Scrubbed my cocktail books and found very little.  It’s basically a gin daiquiri.  Also, it’s basically a gin rickey, but without the club soda, which would change the nature of the cocktail. We’ll definitely revisit the gin rickey before the summer is out, though.  I found two references in Gary Regan’s the Joy of Mixology.  The first was a Delicious Cocktail, which was lime juice, simple syrup and gin.  This cocktail had a bunch of mint as an aromatic garnish and the ratios weren’t quite what I had used either.  The other cocktail was the Bennett cocktail, which is gin, fresh lime juice and simple syrup (a 4:2:1 ratio), plus Angostura bitters.  Well, I didn’t use the bitters, but other than that, it seems a good fit.

The Bennett Cocktail

• 3 oz. London Dry Gin
• 1 oz. Fresh Lime Juice
• 1/2 oz. Simple Syrup

This is a nicely potent summer-ish cocktail.  The Joy of Mixology suggests Angostura bitters, which I think would make this cocktail and even tastier potation.   CocktailDB.com recommends two dashes of orange bitters. That seems an even better idea.  B and I were batting around the cocktail and actually thought Fee Brothers new Grapefruit Bitters might be an even better thought.  We’ll have to give the bitters a try and report back.  I would also like to make an actual gimlet (haven’t had one recently) and compare it to this tippling.

Pip-pip.

The Sidecar

It’s as American as Mom, apple pie and lemonade (well, as I like to think of lemonade anyway). To quote David Wondrich, “The Sidecare is often singled out as the only good cocktail to come out of the long national nightmare that was Prohibition.” Seems only fitting to celebrate the 5th of July with this great piece of Americana.
The Sidecar

• 1 oz Cointreau
• 1 oz. Lemon Juice
• 2 oz. Brandy

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

If you like (as B does), you can rim the glass by running a lemon around the rim and dipping the glass into a plate of superfine or bar sugar. Personally, I think it just makes for sticky fingers.

All in all this really is one of the great classic cocktails and pretty easy one to get your head around.

Cheers.

Making sense of a 103 degree day.

Today was hot.  The first really hot one of the summer—103 to be specific.  Just to keep things interesting, the power also went out for a couple of hours.  Well, not surprisingly B wanted something refreshing to combat the ill effects of such a concatentation of circumstances.  I got to browsing through Dale Degroff’s (of Rainbow Room fame) The Essential Cocktail and decided on the Tom Collins, which he describes as “…producing a wonderful summer drink that’s much more interesting that a gin and tonic”.  Just the ticket…

 
 
 
 
 
 

Tom Collins

• 1 1/2 oz. London Dry Gin
• 1 oz. Simple Syrup
• 3/4 oz. Fresh squeezed lemon juice
• Seltzer
• Maraschino Cherry and an Orange Slice

Combine the gin, syrup and lemon juice.  Shake and strain into a tall collins  glass with ice.  Top up with seltzer and garnish with a cherry and an orange slice.

So, a couple of notes… The book recomends club soda. Personally, I never touch the stuff; it’s like drinking baking soda, so the soda siphon is the way to go. Also, oranges aren’t in season right now, so in spite of the fact that we live in the land of oranges, they look like crap and cost more than a forclosed house, so no on the orange slice right now.  Finally, we both though that the drink was a bit sweet, so I think in future we would put in 3/4 oz. syrup and 1 oz. lemon juice.

What’s the conclusion?  It really is a refreshing bit of summer, and we agree… It is better than a gin and tonic.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go concentrate on sweating.

Simple Syrup

Simple Syrup

• 1 cup sugar
• 1 cup water

Bring the two to a boil until the sugar dissolves. Cool and store in the refrigerator for a few weeks.  Add a shot of vodka per pint and you buy a couple of more weeks.  Beyond that and the white fuzzies start to make a lunch of it.

This is a staple on the bar.  Sugar just doesn’t dissolve well in cold booze. The trick, dissolve it before your start.

The Ramos Gin Fizz

This one has been taunting me for a while (not the glass St. Nick decoration in the background).  Oh well, this one is better when it’s warm anyway.  So on with it…

• 2 ounces Dry Gin
• 1/2 ounce Lemon Juice
• 1/2 ounce Lime Juice
• 1 ounce Cream
• 1 Egg White
• 1/2 ounce Simple Syrup
• 2 dashes Orange Flower Water
• Seltzer

This is one of those recipes with many names (the Ramos Fizz, the New Orleans Fizz and so on).  The cocktail originate from one Henry Ramos, owner of the Imperial Cabinet Saloon in New Orleans around the turn of the last century.  The recipe also varies a bit (the one I chose was from Gary Regan’s the Joy of Mixology) but all seem to be subtle variations in the amount of the ingredients above.

Now before you take this opportunity for a serious cocktail meltdown, yes that does say an egg white.  This was at one time a common technique to give a cocktail body.  The pisco sour, which I intend to write about also uses one.  And no, salmonella is NOT the inevitable outcome of this drink.  Remember, 1) contracting salmonella from eggs is rare at best (think raw cookie dough) and 2) salmonella isn’t fond of the acid from the citrus and the alcholol from the gin.  If you still aren’t convinced, try pasturized egg whites.  As a final note, orange blossom water can be found at any middle easter grocery or in the international isle of most better grocery stores (at least in California).  It’s a floral scented water like rose water and lends a perfumy complexity to the drink.  Go easy on this ingredient or its all you will taste.

So, you’re still with me?  Okay, here’s what you do.  Add everything above except the seltzer to a cocktail shaker with some ice cubes.  Sake viciously (30 seconds and hard).  Strain into a tall collins glass with fresh ice. The drink should be think and creamy at this. Top up with seltzer.  Decorating for Christmas is optional.

In spite of everyting, this really is a tasty, refreshing drink that is well suited to summer.  Enjoy.

The Monkey Gland

B here. When absinthe became legal again in the U.S.  last year, M was overjoyed. I–less so. I remembered sipping from my mom’s Pernod when I was little, and the anise taste was nasty in my book. Plus, what sane person wants to drink a libation containing wormwood? M did. I broke down and offered to buy him some absinthe for a Valentine’s Day gift, and he chose Lucid. I had a small sip of his Lucid absinthe on ice so that it would louche, meaning the essential oils came out of solution, and I was not impressed. Imagine my concern when a few days later M offered to make cocktails, and when I inquired as to the specific cocktail, I was told it would be “a surprise.” He brought me a Monkey Gland; a cocktail name that did not inspire confidence. In addition, it was the same color as my neon red Prismacolor colored pencil. Is it OK to drink neon?

In fact, I am sorry to say that the Monkey Gland is quite tasty. I wouldn’t put it in my top 5, but maybe my top 10 cocktails (the superb Oriental takes the current top spot). The Monkey Gland is a little sweet, but the anise flavor from the absinthe is quite tasty and not overpowering, at least with the Lucid absinthe. M made the Monkey Glands a second time using absinthe from St. George Spirits of Alameda, California, (we had visited the distillery), and it was much sweeter. That version made me think of black jelly beans with every sip. So I can recommend the Monkey Gland with the Lucid absinthe but not the St. George. As to which absinthe is better straight up, that you will have to wait to hear from M; I’ll try to get him to do a post on that.

We got the recipe for the Monkey Gland from the January/February 2008 issue of Imbibe magazine, a wonderful periodical about all sorts of things to drink: beer, wine, distilled spirits, coffees, teas.  They even picked my favorite root beer as the best root beer: Sprecher (these people know their beverages!).

The Monkey Gland

1.5 oz. gin
1.5 oz. fresh-squeezed orange juice
1 tsp. grenadine
1 tsp. absinthe
Ice
Pour ingredients into shaker and fill with ice. Shake 1o seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and serve.

Blood and Sand, a follow up

We tried the modified recipe last night.  It was a significant improvement (B agreed on that one).  It is still on the sweeter side, but there’s a balance and complexity that was missing before.  Our new recipe is…

2 oz. Scotch (something blended)
1 oz. Cherry Heering
1 oz. Sweet Vermouth
1 oz. Orange Juice
2 dashes Orange Bitters

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Enjoy.

Michael

Blood and Sand

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that (wonder where I’m going with this?) Scotch doesn’t play well others.  There are very few exceptions to this… the Rob Roy (a Scotch Manhattan) and well, ice.  Other than that, it’s pretty much a collection of ill conceived notions.  This drink, however, is an exception.

3/4 oz. Scotch (something blended)
3/4 oz. Cherry Heering
3/4 oz. Sweet Vermouth
3/4 oz. Orange Juice

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

This one comes from a great new addition to our cocktail library, In the Land of Cocktails: Recipes and Adventures from the Cocktail Chicks by Ti Adelaide Martin and Lally Brennan, proprietresses of that noble brass rail, the Commander’s Palace in New Orleans.

My opinion is that the cocktail is a bit on the sweet side, but B really liked this one.  Personally, I think that dropping all of the ingredients except the Scotch to 1/2 oz and adding a dash or two of orange bitters would be a substantial improvement, which it turns out to be.