New Loves Cocktail Party, Part 1: the Bramble

A couple of months ago, I had the pleasure of preparing some cocktails for a party hosted by my good friend Kori.  Originally, the party was to be held on St. Valentine's day, but, because I had other things to do, it was delayed.  The theme was Valentine-y, though: New Loves.  The idea was to introduce some new cocktails which have been relatively recently invented but are as good as the classics.  In time, one or a few of these might come to mind when one contemplates the great cocktails, as perhaps the Daiquri or the Sazerac might to mind today.

In the next few weeks (or less), I'll introduce eleven drinks I served to a thirsty gathering last February 18...

To begin our run-down of the featured cocktails (and the evening's festivities), let's address the Bramble.

Our oldest player, this drink was invented in the 1980s by Dick Bradsell in London.  It's a rejuvenated sour (spirit+citrus+sugar) with the sparkling edition of blackberry liqueur (creme de mûre) for a fruity accent.  Although creme de mûre is not a commonly-used ingredient, it's well worth the cost of a bottle; if you like a fresh, sweet, citrusy drink for hot summer days, there's no better libation than the Bramble.

2 oz London dry gin (Plymouth)
1 oz fresh lemon juice
1/2 oz creme de mûre
~1/2 oz simple syrup (to taste)

Shake with ice; and strain into an ice-filled glass.  Garnish with blackberries, and serve with a straw.

Lillet cobbler

I've been away from this blog for a while, not for lack of drinking, though.  I don't know what I've been doing but I think it must've been fun.  

Last night, I was exhausted from work and lack of sleep, but I drug myself to Cure for 3 drinks, anyway.  What a horrible life.  

I wasn't interested in drinking much, for sure, and didn't even want to be able to feel it much, so I decided (as I have recently been wont to do) to go low-proof.  Low gravity, wine-based mixed drinks are a venerable bunch, and they've been much-neglected recently.  I asked Rhiannon for a cobbler of some sort, and she delivered with this:

This drink was awesome, and not just because it made me the guy with the best looking drinking vessel in the bar.  Cobblers, as I've posted before, are just a bit of wine (or a spirit), a little sugar, some fruit and some ice, served with a straw.  I presumed this would be a sherry cobbler, so i was surprised to taste how incredibly light the taste was.  In fact, Rhiannon made me a Lillet blanc cobbler.  I don't know her exact proportions or whether she added a small embellishment to the classic cobbler recipe, but I'm sure it was something like this:

2 oz Lillet blanc

1 tsp simple syrup

a slice or two orange

plus some cracked ice in a julep cup.

Garnish with fresh fruit and serve with a straw.

Harry Johnson's 1888 Bartender's Guide calls the Sherry Cobbler "without a doubt the most popular beverage in the country, with ladies as well as with gentlemen."  Deservedly so.  In the last half of nineteenth century, only the mint julep approached the cobbler's popularity.  It's also worth mentioning that the cobbler, according to David Wondrich, was the application which first fully utilized and popularized a new American invention, the drinking straw.

Art of Choke

I have had a few great drinking experiences.  One came at the Violet Hour, where I met Kyle Davidson and Stephen Cole, two of the best mixologists and most gracious hosts I've had the pleasure of meeting.  One of Kyle's signature drinks (along with the Goodbye Marie [a.k.a The Davidson]) is the Art of Choke.  This is one of those inspired creations that rises above (way above) all those newfangled drinks to the level of modern classic.  This is easily on my list of 20 best drinks, and it may break the top ten overall.  If you're in the mood for it, it's a top 5 drink, in my opinion.  

In rogue cocktails, published my Maksym Pazuniak of The Counting Room and Kirk Estopinal of Cure, we can read this description of the Art of Choke: 

Picture yourself in the limestone-walled courtyard of an Italian villa off the coast of the Riviera. You are surrounded by fragrant herbs and flowers, and the sea air is blowing gently. The sun is bright, but it's not hot, and you have nothing to do all day but relax and savor the sensations all around you. Drinking this cocktail is kind of like that if somebody suddenly punched you in the stomach just as you were beginning to doze off in the sun. In a good way.

So how do you make it?

Pimm's Highball Smash

I wanted something light and clean that I could drink this afternoon without alcoholic after-effects, so I turned to a couple of new acquisitions.  First, my dear friends Matt and Michele generously gave me a soda siphon for no reason whatsoever.  That was awesome.  Second, I bought a couple of bottles of bitters from the Bitter Cube guys I met at Tales of the Cocktail.  I decided to combine these with some mint, sugar, and Pimm's No. 1 to make an afternoon drink.

2 oz Pimm's No. 1 liqueur
1/2 teaspoon demarara syrup
2 dashes Bitter Cube lemon tree bitters
10 mint leaves
soda water

Muddle mint with syrup; add Pimm's and bitters.  Stir on ice, and strain into a highball glass filled with ice.  Top off with soda water.  Garnish with a sprig of mint.

Very light, very refreshing.  The mint really came through on the nose and the sip, and the Pimm's and citrus notes blended very nicely, even without actual citrus juice.  I would have liked a little more flavor, but the volume of soda I had to add diluted the drink a bit much for my taste.  I'll have to downsize my glass next time I prepare this one.

Amber Sunset

A friend asked me for a Mojito tonight, but I told her I thought that was boring, especially since I made her a Mojito the last time she was at my house.  The carbonated water in the Mojito reminded me of the Eastside, which Rhiannon introduced me to the other day.  It's essentially a Southside with cucumber and club soda on ice in a tall glass.  But I was out of cucumber.  So my tangential thought then led me to an as-far-as-I-can-tell unnamed drink that Kirk made me a few weeks ago.  He made me a dark rum sour with a rinse of creme de violette.  Since I have way too much creme de violette and way too few uses for it, I thought I'd pull it out.  I substituted raspberry syrup for simple syrup, and the result was the Amber Sunset (which hopefully hasn't been named something else previously)...

2 oz amber rum (Appleton V/X)

1/2 oz lemon juice

1/2 oz raspberry syrup

1 tsp creme de violette

Shake all but creme de violette with ice, and set aside.  Rinse a chilled cocktail glass or coupe with creme de violette, and discard the excess.  Strain the rum mixture into the coated glass. Spray a mist of creme de violette over the full glass, and serve with a smile.

Yet another simple variation of a classic formula, the raspberry syrup at once cuts the acidity of the citrus and adds raspberry-fruitiness.  The rum, of course, adds a beautiful buttery roundness to the mouthfeel, and is at the forefront on the sip.  The rinse of creme de violette is absent except for the gentlest floral accent both on the nose and the swallow.

Mississippi Punch

Flipping through Jerry Thomas's 1862 bartender's guide, one earns a new respect for punches.  They were the workhorse concoction for entertaining groups greater than just a few people, and the variety of recipes in use in the mid 19th century was enormous.  The vast majority, surely, never saw print and were the inventions of unnamed thousands of party hosts throughout this land and the British empire.

Since I'm I, I'll give you a bit of etymology.  Besides our English numbers and their closely-related Germanic counterparts, we're familiar with Grecoitalic numbers (wait for the figure...).  East of the Centum-Satem isogloss, numbers are different:

Flora Italia

My venture to Cure last night was unique because I couldn't get a seat at the bar for a couple of hours.  At first, I decided to bide my time and browse through rogue cocktails, the publication of Maks Pazuniak (formerly of Cure, now at the Counting Room in Brooklyn) and Kirk Estopinal.  After a long time, I decided to try Kirk's Flora Italia.

2 oz Pisco Italia
1/2 oz St. Germain elderflower liqueur
1/4 oz simple syrup
2 dashes Angostura bitters
3 swaths grapefruit peel
2 drops rosewater

Frappe (pack with crushed ice) a rocks glass, and set aside. In another glass, stir Pisco, St. Germain, syrup, and Angostura with ice. Discard the ice from the chilled glass, and express the oil from two large grapefruit peel swaths around its interior. Strain the pisco mixture into the coated glass, and garnish with rose water.

This is an exquisite cocktail. It's extremely light and refreshing, fruity and floral.  It's delicate and subtle, as well.  This drink has pushed me over the edge regarding buying some St. Germain.  Thanks for another gem, Kirk.

The Queen Caroline

Yet another hubristic friend has requested a namesake cocktail.  My neighbor, Caroline, brought home a pot of basil and wanted me to make a drink with it.  She said she thought lemon would go well with the basil, and so I decided to make a Southside variation with basil rather than mint.

2 oz London dry gin (Beefeater)
2 tsp fresh lemon juice
2 tsp 2:1 simple syrup
2 dashes Angostura bitters
several fresh basil leaves

Muddle basil leaves with lemon juice and syrup, then add gin.  Shake with ice, and fine-strain into a brandy snifter (or cocktail glass if no snifter is available).  Float one rubbed basil leaf on the top.  Take another basil leaf and rub it around the edge of the glass; then discard it.

What can I say about the Queen Caroline?  So much of her...uh, I mean it...escapes articulability, but I'll try.  Tart; sweet; beautifully fragrant; sexy, even.  Obviously, then, I'm referring to the drink.

The Relativist

I was talking to an old friend today, and she requested that I make a drink named for her.  Because of this hubristic request, I shall not name her here, but her initials are CZ.

The Relativist

2 oz Bulleit bourbon
1/2 oz Swedish punsch*
1/2 oz Becherovka

Mix bourbon and punsch over ice, and stir in an Old Fashioned glass.  In a brandy snifter, ignite the Becherovka, and, while lit, swirl and pour into the prepared Old Fashioned glass.  Agitate to mix.

This really encompasses the woman.  She was born of a Swedish mother and a Czech father.  Newly American, she's a lover of bourbon.  She's fiery and damned agitating when you're trying to debate her.  And, more than anything, she's a Protagorean relativist.  God save us/God be praised!

*For house-made Swedish punsch (thanks to frederic at Cocktail Virgin and especially to Max Toste), combine

3 parts 1:1 simple syrup
2 parts Batavia Arrack
1 part lemon juice
nutmeg (1/4 tsp grated to 500mL)
cardamom (8 pods to 500mL) 

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!

More Old Fashioneds

To follow my Final Ward, I decided to make an old favorite, the Applejack Old Fashioned.  I learned this recipe at Cocktail Chronicles and immediately fell in love.  Virginia apple plus Vermont maple syrup plus cinnamon courtesy of the East India Company...it's a Colonial masterpiece:

2 oz Laird's applejack
1 tsp genuine maple syrup
2 dashes Fee Brothers' Old Fashion bitters

Stir; Old Fashioned glass; rocks; orange twist.


Perhaps my favorite Old Fashioned variation.  If you have access to Laird's bonded apple brandy and you want to soar, substitute that for the (blended) applejack.  The next time the Applejack Old Fashioned leads off my night, I'll do the same.

Saturday noontime drinks

Well, I have returned from my safari with virtually no physical and only limited psychological damage, and my parents are in town this weekend to welcome me home and to return my cats.

At lunchtime today, I offered my mom a rum drink.  I've only recently figured out what my mother's mixed-drink tastes are, and so I endeavored to make her a cocktail that she wouldn't hate.  (A tall order, I've found.)  So I made up a cocktail which will henceforth be called:

Mid-day in Georgia

3/4 oz light rum (Bacardi)
3/4 oz amber rum (Flor de Caña 7 year)
1/2 oz Jamaica rum (Myers)
1/4 peach, sliced
1/4 oz demarara syrup
1 dash Angostura bitters
2 dashes Fee Brothers' peach bitters
~1/8 oz homemade grenadine


Muddle peach slices with all ingredients except grenadine.  Shake with ice.  Double strain into a cocktail glass, and anoint the inside of the rim with a line of grenadine.  Garnish with a slice of peach.

Perfect for a warm summer afternoon.

And Mom loved it.  Whew.

Saturday 3pm drink

Jetlagged a few days after returning from Africa, 2:00 PM arrived, and I was exhausted but could not sleep.  Needing to be fresh for a 7:00 PM graduation event in which I almost certainly would need my wits about me, I resolved to try a comfort drink to slow my mind and help me take a mid-afternoon snooze.  My dad suggested milk; I was thinking booze.  Ergo:

Milk Punch

1 oz Cognac

1 oz amber rum

2 tsp simple syrup

Combine above ingredients with ice in an Old Fashioned glass and fill to the top with milk.  Shake.  Shave nutmeg on top.

I'll let you know if it worked.

Update: It didn't work.  Still couldn't sleep.

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 4: the Brandy Crusta

The Brandy Crusta was one of several mixed drinks to grace the pages of the first printed bartender's manual, authored by Jerry Thomas and published in 1862.  It's a nearly forgotten drink today, and what a shame that is!  It's not a hard drink to make (I usually defer on the complex lemon peel garnish, but perhaps I shouldn't).  This is how you and I should make it:

2 oz Cognac (Martel VSOP)
1 tsp curaçao (Grand Marnier)
1 tsp Luxardo maraschino liqueur
2 tsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 tsp simple syrup
2 dashes Angostura bitters
Stir with ice, and strain into a sugar-rimmed wine glass.  Garnish with a whole lemon rind.

My favorite cocktails, part 3: the Improved gin cocktail

This time, we'll move to gin. I don't like gin straight, but I'll admit it's good for mixing drinks because it's very versatile. There was a point in my life when I was ready to give up on gin altogether and dedicate myself entirely to whiskey. I told Kirk Estopinal at Cure of my resolution, but I gave him (and gin) one last chance to convince me otherwise. Kirk brought his best and changed my mind with an Improved gin cocktail:

1.5 oz gin (Aviation)
1 tsp simple syrup
1 tsp Luxardo maraschino liqueur
2 dashes Peychaud's bitters
2 dashes Regans' orange bitters
1 dash absinthe (I use 3 drops)
Stir on ice; orange twist.

This exquisite cocktail is the best gin cocktail I've ever had and could ever hope to have.

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. 

Syrups

Sugar is used in nearly every mixed drink in one form or another, whether by itself or incorporated via a liqueur, etc. In the distant past, it would be combined in its solid form with spirits and water. Unfortunately, our granulated sugar doesn't dissolve very readily in cold spirits with very little water, so syrups are widely utilized.

I nearly exclusively use syrups over granulated sugar (with exceptions including a sugar cube for a champagne cocktail or a sugar rim coating in a brandy crusta). When I make drinks with clear spirits, I usually use simple syrup; with brown spirits, I often use demarara syrup; and grenadine and raspberry syrup find their way into many recipes. These latter demonstrate that you can flavor your syrup with anything you want: cf. Berber syrup. You can make syrups with whatever ratio of sugar to water you want, but if you go much higher than 2.5:1, the sugar will precipiate into crystals at the bottom of the container. Go any less than 1:1, and the mouthfeel is unpleasantly thin. That said, this is how I do it:

Simple syrup

1 cup granulated sugar
100 mL (seriously) water
Combine in a saucepan. Raise to a boil while stirring; boil for several seconds. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to several weeks.

After Wednesday dinner

After dinner, which Rich and I shared with Admiral Rick while sitting at the bar, a few others joined us for drinks. Watching Rick sip a very good tequila and a simultaneous brutal lapse in judgment lead me to order a Tequila Old Fashioned.

2 oz of a good tequila (I think I watched a Don Julio go in my glass)
1 tsp simple syrup (use agave syrup if you can find it in your international foods aisle)
2 dashes Angostura bitters (The Bitter Truth Xocolatl Mole bitters would be interesting, here)
Stir; rocks; lemon twist.

An Old Fashioned is any spirit treated with sugar and bitters over ice. By the 1880s when its title became more or less standardized, this was the old fashioned way of preparing a cocktail (as opposed to newfangled concoctions such as the Martinez, Manhattan, or Tom Collins). So a tequila old fashioned is totally legitimate. I chose it last night because
1) I'd never had one
2) I don't own any tequila good enough to sip
3) I suffered that judgment lapse.
Actually, I shouldn't sell this cocktail short. I didn't finish it more because it was late and I don't love tequila, not because it wasn't an excellent drink. I was very pleasantly surprised how nicely the sweetness of the syrup tamed the (to me) normal unpleasantness of the tequila. The bitters, as always, added character and depth to an already flavorful combination. Plus, the tequila was of excellent quality, so that was key. Will I order this again? Probably not. But this experience has influenced me to buy a good bottle of tequila and be prepared to serve a Tequila Old Fashioned to any tequila lover that ventures into my living room.