My favorite cocktails, part 1: the Old Fashioned

Many people ask me what my favorite cocktail is, so I thought that I would write a bit about that.  As it turns out, my favorite cocktails are everyone's favorite cocktails because, well, they are the best.  So I'll cover some drinks that are, to the cocktail cognoscenti, boring.  To them, I apologize for covering material that is covered ad nauseum elsewhere.

For the rest of you, over a few posts, I'll present several sublime mixed drinks in no particular order.  Most of them are "old."  Why is my list of favorites disproportionally populated by old drinks?  The good stuff sticks around by virtue of it's superiority and stands the test of time.  Just like the music of Palestrina, Monteverdi, Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven has been renowned for its brilliance for centuries, the best cocktails have, as well.  In 300 years, they'll still be the best cocktails, and maybe a few newcomers will join them.  For now, just a few are and will remain my favorites.

We'll start with the Old Fashioned because it allows me to do some explaining. 

Sometimes I use the word cocktail.  Sometimes I use mixed drink.  There are other near-synonyms.  When I'm paying attention to my diction, I choose between them purposefully.  To a linguistic purist/cocktail übernerd, a cocktail (a word first used in print in 1803) only refers to a class of mixed drinks.  A cocktail is a mixture of a spirit, sugar, water, and bitters. That purist definition was penned in an 1806 newspaper entry which answered the question "What is a cocktail?"  Simple enough.

An old (nearly defunct) synonym for cocktail is bittered sling, which raises the question: What are these bitters?  Bitters are a concoction of various herbs, spices, and other botanicals, plus alcohol, originally manufactured to treat various medical ailments from indigestion to gout.  These bad-tasting solutions were typically consumed in ounces per dose rather than the drops and dashes we would use today.  Then they were medicine; today we think of them as cocktail seasoning.  Just as the addition of a dash of salt to food doesn't make it salty, the dash of bitters doesn't make a drink bitter.  Rather, both seasonings enhance the intrinsic flavors to which they are added.

Soon to the bittered sling, but first, the sling.  It's 1794, you live in the Ohio River valley, and your gout is acting up, so the doctor prescribes a medicinal dose of whiskey.  The whiskey you can get from the farm down the road probably doesn't taste as good as the refined spirits produced today.  To cut the bad taste of the whiskey, you add some sugar and dilute it with water.  You take the cup of medicine and, in one quick motion of the wrist, sling it back.  It follows that the age-old sling is a spirit plus sugar and water.

This time, you drank a gallon of wine last night and you're hung over.  Someone has prescribed you (or you have self-prescribed) a medicinal dose of whiskey for your headache and a dose of bitters to help your nausea.  You prepare a sling and remember that the bitters never taste good.  Oh, what the hell, throw in the bitters so at least you only have to take one gulp instead of two: bittered sling. 

By the mid 19th century, this intoxicating medicinal practice had evolved into one of gustatory enjoyment and leisure.  Plus, ice was becoming more readily available, and people were making syrup out of their sugar and water because it was easier to dissolve in the alcohol.  By the 1880s, there had been an explosion of available spirits, fortified wines, etc., and professional bartenders were concocting innumerable mixed drinks of varying complexity and quality.  Eschewing these dandy drinks, you ask for a cocktail made the old fashioned way.  You are gloriously served:

2 oz whiskey (I typically use 2 oz Bulleit bourbon OR 1 oz Sazerac rye plus 1 oz Wild Turkey 101 rye)
1 tsp syrup (demarara)
2 dashes bitters (1 each of Angostura and Regans' orange)
Stirred with ice, with a twist of orange peel.

Technically, an Old Fashioned can be made with any spirit.  The rum Old Fashioned is exquisite, especially with Cruzan Single Barrel.  (By the way, a rum Old Fashioned is also called a treacle.)  And I love an applejack Old Fashioned, especially with maple syrup and Fee Brothers Old Fashion bitters.

Finally, a word of caution: if you order an Old Fashioned at 99% of bars, you will be served a mess of the above ingredients mixed with the carcasses of muddled orange slices, maraschino cherries, and (G_d save us) it may be topped off with club soda.  This should not be tolerated.  If you want an Old Fashioned, be specific and ask for the fruit and soda to be left out or come to my house and I'll make one for you.