Know Thyself

One of the reasons I haven't posted much on this blog in recent months is that I've not been inspired.  The more I drink, the more I realize that there are but a few truly exquisite drinks.  After that, there are thousands that are "really very good," but these never approach the others.  With a few exceptions, the best drinks are the simplest and the oldest.  So I've not been routinely inspired because it's a rare event that one encounters a brilliant new drink. 

However, I was inspired by Jamie Boudreau, who posted on his Old Fashioned, cubed and syruped last October, to fashion a complex drink on a classic framework.  The first iteration was amazing.  I then made the mistake of upgrading the liquors to premium grade (Rittenhouse and Martel VSOP); this mistake drowned out the subtlety of the original, so I dialed it back again...


skinny (slightly less than) 3/4 oz Sazerac 6 year rye
skinny 3/4 oz Cruzan Single Barrel rum
skinny 3/4 oz Paul Masson brandy
1 tsp 2:1 demarara syrup
16 drops Smith-house Berber bitters

Combine and quickly stir with ice, making sure not to dilute the mixture too much. 

This cocktail is worthy of consideration with some of the greats, and could fill in for a Sazerac, Old Fashioned, or Manhattan as your daily tipple (that is, if you make some of my Berber bitters for yourself). 

Whiskey Kiss

I went to a friend's rooftop party last night near the Quarter, and I was running a little early, so I decided to stop off at Tonique on Rampart Street. I met the good bartender, Murph, who was kind enough to chat with me for a bit.  Their menu (writ large on a chalkboard), included several classics and a couple of interesting variations.  Those included a cobbler style Old Fashioned (presumably the with-fruit variety), Caipirinha, Last Word, Pimm's cup, Aviation, and several others.  As you can tell, a good list.  Because I keep really wanting to like an Aviation but never have, I figured I'd try their attempt at it to see what happened.  I was very pleasantly surprised.  As they make it, it's 

1 1/2 Aviation gin

3/4 lemon juice

3/4 maraschino liqueur

~1 tsp creme de violette

Rinse the inside of a cocktail glass with creme de violette, then discard the excess.  Shake the other ingredients with ice, and strain into the prepared glass. 

This was what I've been waiting for.  For whatever reason, changing the proportions from my 2, 1/4, 1/3, 1/6 did the trick.  I was surprised that the equal portion of lemon and maraschino evened themselves out as seamlessly as they did.  Usually, equal portions of simple syrup and lemon juice is required for a straight "sour mix," and simple syrup is sweeter than maraschino.  But I guess the inherent sweetness of the maraschino combined with its funkiness balanced everything out. Good to know...

Anyway, after that, I decided to test their prowess with a non-classic cocktail that was on their menu, the Whiskey Kiss.  Now, I've recently profiled the close cousin of this drink, the Widow's Kiss. To me, this is an improvement.  Maybe it's just because I love rye...

1 1/2 oz rye
3/4 oz Benedictine
3/4 oz Chartreuse
3/4 oz lemon juice
2 dashes Fee's Old Fashion bitters


Shake; strain; cocktail glass; marasca cherry.

The sweetness of the Chartreuse and Benedictine tamed the lemon juice, and their herbal character showed through beautifully.  The liqueurs, together with the spicy rye, are obviously a wonderful combination, and did not disappoint here.  I believe this may become a regular drink of mine.

The Small Aromatic-Sour Cycle

All this talk of Final Wards and Manhattans has brought me to consider cycles: those beautiful natural entities which give and take from their components to construct strangely opposite creations, only to continue the process back home.  To take three, let's consider the Citric Acid cycle, the pitch interval cycle, and the now-dubbed Small Aromatic-Sour cycle.  OK, maybe I'll allow Wikipedia to guide those interested in the first two, and I'll just tackle the drinks. 

What defines any cycle, i.e., the number and particulars of its constituents, is somewhat arbitrary, especially in systems with many potential players (such as biological molecular systems or mixology).  Just as there are a huge number of molecules floating around in a cell, there are hundreds of cocktail ingredients and exponentially more combinations of them.  That's a long way of saying that you could start with any drink and get to any other drink if you allow a large number of ingredient changes.  There is nothing ground-breaking about that, just as it's not terribly impressive to get from Tom Hanks to Kevin Bacon by using 100 degrees of separation. 

However, a particular, relatively small cycle continues to occur to me, and so I present it to you.

This small Aromatic-Sour cycle is made up of seven of my favorite cocktails.  Every time I drink one, I recall at least one or two of its neighbors.  Moreover, these drinks are either old-time or modern classics and are here to stay.  With only a few ingredients (rye, gin, maraschino liqueur, Chartreuse, sweet vermouth, sugar, bitters, lemon juice, and lime juice) one can create this cycle, and he or she might never feel the need to leave it, given the incredible range of flavors that it encompasses.  Are there two drinks more elegant than an Old Fashioned and a Last Word?  Are there two drinks more different than an Old Fashioned and a Last Word or a Bijou and a Whiskey Sour?  Yet they grow from and into each other seamlessly; and the intervening steps, themselves, are beautifully complex but balanced drinks. 

As I've said, there is a near-infinite number of cycles of which one might conceive, but to me this is a seminal one.  If any other small cocktail cycles occur to you, say so in the comments section below!

The Final Ward

I've fixed myself a drink I've been thinking of for some time and never got around to making--the Final Ward.

3/4 oz rye
3/4 oz Chartreuse
3/4 oz maraschino liqueur
3/4 oz lemon juice

Shake; up; cocktail glass.

Like the Last Word, this is a mix of aromatic and sour cocktail genres, and it works incredibly well.  It's freshingly light, sharp, sweet, and herbal, all at the same time--it's the very incarnation of a balanced mixed drink.  I found the lush in me wishing for more rye, so next time I'll experiment with a slightly rye-heavy variant, but it's likely that any deviation will upset the balance.  We shall see...

This cocktail is the invention of Phil Ward, and was brought to my attention by Jay over at Oh Gosh!, to whom I am greatly indebted.

Tuesday night cocktail hour(s)

Last Tuesday night's cocktail hour(s) included some new guests, some regulars, some new drinks, and some old ones.  Here's what I served, some of which were served multiple times...


Mai Tai


1 oz amber rum (Flor de Caña 7 year)
1 oz Jamaica rum (Myers's)
3/4 oz lime juice
1/2 oz triple sec
1/2 oz orgeat syrup
1/4 oz simple syrup
Shake, rocks.


Apple/Orange Mai Tai (my modification)

1 oz applejack (Laird's)
1 oz Jamaica rum (Myers's)
3/4 oz fresh lime juice
1/2 oz triple sec
1/2 oz orgeat syrup
1/4 oz simple syrup
2 dashes orange bitters (Regans')
Shake, rocks.


Tom Collins

2 oz London Dry gin
2 tsp lime juice
2 tsp simple syrup
Shake all but club soda.  Strain into a Collins glass with ice.  Add club soda to the top, and agitate to mix.


Sherman's March (my invention)

1 oz bourbon (Knob Creek)
1 oz Southern Comfort
1 tsp grain alcohol or overproof rum (Everclear)
2 dashes peach bitters (Fee Bros.)
1 dash Fee Bros. Old Fashion bitters
Stir all but overproof spirit on ice; strain into a cocktail/champagne coupe.  Float overproof spirit on the top, and ignite.  Spray oil from a lemon peel twist into the flames.  Quickly drink after the fire goes out.


Cocktail a la Louisiane

3/4 oz rye
3/4 oz Benedictine
3/4 oz sweet vermouth
3 dashes absinthe
3 dashes Peychaud's bitters
Stir, strain, homemade maraschino cherry. 

My favorite cocktails, part 7: the Mint Julep

I know of no mixed drink that causes as many arguments as the mint julep.  That history of controversy goes back a long way.  One old recipe book states:

Well, down our way we've always had a theory that the Civil War was not brought on by Secession or Slavery or the State's Rights issue. These matters contributed to the quarrel, but there is a deeper reason. It was brought on by some Yankee coming down south and putting nutmeg in a julep. So our folks just up and left the Union flat.

As my dear old friend, Dr. Herlitz, frequently says, "There are things about which intelligent men may disagree."  In the case of mint juleps, intelligent men may disagree as to the base spirit used.  They may legitimately use brandy, rum, rye, bourbon, applejack, or even gin or genever.  They may combine these, if they please.  As it turns out, most people, myself included, think that Kentucky bourbon whiskey makes the best mint julep.

There are some things, though, about which intelligent men may not disagree: namely whether one may add citrus juice, sour mix, a carbonated beverage of any sort, fruit, or any other contaminant to the sweet simplicity of a julep.  They may not.

To make a mint julep, combine bourbon (or whatever spirit or combination thereof pleases you) with muddled mint, sugar/syrup, and ice.  This is how I make mine:

Place 11 freshly picked mint leaves and 1 tablespoon of simple syrup in the bottom of a silver julep cup, and gently muddle to extract the oil from the mint leaves, taking care not to macerate the leaves.  Pour a small amount of Knob Creek bourbon into the cup, and swirl to dissolve the syrup.  Next, crush a few cups of ice, and discard the very small and very large pieces, leaving pieces approximately 1-2 cm in diameter.  Fill the julep cup with this ice, and pour in Knob Creek to the top (3-4 oz).  Taking care not to touch the frosted sides of the cup, agitate with a spoon to bring some syrup and mint to the top and to chill the mixture.  Garnish with a sprig of freshly picked mint.

As you can tell, it's a sacred moment.  If you don't believe me, believe the late Lt. Gen. S.B. Buckner, Jr. who said:

A mint julep is not a product of a formula. It is a ceremony and must be performed by a gentleman possessing a true sense of the artistic, a deep reverence for the ingredients and a proper appreciation of the occasion.

Or, just let the master sing:

Sip it, and dream.

My favorite cocktails, part 6: the Manhattan

It's hard to beat a Manhattan for several reasons.  First, they taste great.  Second, the ingredients are cheap and easy to find.  Third, they are easy to make (i.e., it's hard for you, your significant other, or your random bartender to screw one up).  Fourth, the template opens the door to a number of exquisite variations.

This recipe works beautifully:

2 oz rye whiskey
3/4 oz sweet vermouth
2 dashes Angostura bitters
Stir on ice, and strain into a cocktail glass. If you can find a Luxardo maraschino cherry, garnish it with that.

Substitute Punt e Mes vermouth to make a Red Hook.
Make it with Carpano Antica Formula vermouth, Fee Brothers Old Fashion bitters, and add Marie Brizard Apry (apricot brandy) and you have a Davidson or a Goodbye Marie.
Consider sherry, another fortified wine, or (now we're stretching it) an Italian amaro instead of sweet vermouth.
Add a little Benedictine or Chartreuse.
Some people prefer or have better access to bourbon, so they make bourbon Manhattans.
You like blended scotch better than rye or bourbon? Make it a Rob Roy.
Rum blends very well with sweet vermouth, too!

My favorite cocktails, part 5: the Sazerac

The Sazerac:
The most beautiful thing you can put in your mouth.
--David L. Smith, MD

Don't let anyone from New Orleans convince you that the Sazerac was the first cocktail.  That apocryphal story circles around this city like Achilles with Hector in tow, but it's not even close to true.  It is true that, in the 1850s, the owner of the Sazerac Coffee House combined Sazerac-du-Forge et Fils Cognac with absinthe and the bitters produced by New Orleans apothacary Antoine Peychaud for his signature cocktail.  In the second half of the 19th century, both Civil War blockade and French wine-country crop failures made Cognac scarce in New Orleans.  Thereafter, rye became the spirit of choice for this drinker's delicacy.

Three anecdotes:
a) I once had a cocktail party at which I served ten classic cocktails (in 1/3 proportions) to ten guests.  That makes 100 different drink experiences.  I took a poll that night, and every person thought the Sazerac was the best drink of them all.
b) A close (and very successful) friend once told me, in all seriousness, that my teaching him how to make a good Sazerac was "...one of the ten most important things I've learned in my entire life, maybe top five."

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. 

Tuesday night cocktail hour(s) (cont.)

Matt and Michele came over, and she ordered the Sazerac d'orange as her single allowed drink (lest she start catfights with the other women there). I developed the Sazerac d'orange to make a respectable cocktail for my Sazerac-averse then-girlfriend, Julietta. It's just a Sazerac with the addition of Regan's orange bitters and an orange twist instead of lemon. Because I'm trying to utilize my Berber syrup, a simple syrup combined with a number of indiginous north-African spices, I made a

Berber Sazerac

1 oz Sazerac 6 year rye
1 oz Wild Turkey 101 rye
1/4 oz Berber syrup
1 dash Peychaud's bitters
1 dash Fee Bros. orange bitters

Combine, stir with ice, and set aside. Rinse/coat a chilled Old Fashioned glass with absinthe or absinthe substitute (Herbsaint or Pernod) and discard the excess. Strain the rye mixture into the coated OF glass. Add a twist of orange peel and mosten the glass's rim with the orange oil, too.

Berber simple syrup: Combine oh, I don't know, a tablespoon each of cracked black peppercorn, coriander seeds, and cardimom; maybe 3 inches-worth of cinnamon sticks; a teaspoon or two a paprika; a dozen whole cloves; a couple teaspoons of allspice; a teaspoon or so of cumin seeds; a couple cracked star-anise pods and roast in a sauce pan for a few minutes. Then add 1 cup of sugar and 1 cup of water and raise to a boil. Then remove from heat. Strain the solid components from the solution (think coffee filter) and refrigerate the syrup for up to a few weeks.

This cocktail was (predictably) spicier than it's Sazerac base, and that in a pleasant, interesting way. Was it better than a Sazerac? Of course not. But was it a fun supra-Saharan sidetour? Yes.

Tuesday night cocktail hour(s) (cont. v)

When I recovered my strength, it was time for a second round. For Amanda I made a

Moroccan Old Fashioned

2 oz Sazerac 6 year rye
1/4 oz Berber syrup (recipe with Berber Sazerac)
1 dash Angostura bitters
1 dash Regans' orange bitters
Stir; rocks; orange twist.

Again, a Carthaginian twist on a classic (the son of Hamlicar would be proud, I'm sure). The syrup's spiciness complimented that of the rye to give a very nice flavor. Not a bad Old Fashioned variation which I learned at Cocktail Virgin Slut.