It’s April, you old so-and-so! That means summer (or Mr. Sunny Suntimes, as it’s called by some) isn’t too far around the corner, what with its rum drinks and poolside parties and pirates. With that, I suggest you start practicing your summer drinks now, so you can be known as Drinkmaster HW (for hot weather) when it gets here. And here’s one to start practicing with, not a known drink worldwide yet (though known enough to carrying its own second moniker, “rum-daddy”), but a darn good one, featuring a hearty base (or spirit-kick, as they say) of Flor de Caña rum shimmying close with Brovo’s delightful Lucky (it already has a nickname in its name!) Falernum, Pierre Ferrand’s now classic orange curaçao, Scrappy’s dancing on the tongue Orleans bitters (did you know Scrappy was a nickname of a real person? It is!), and a touch of lemon and simple. The very latter I like, as it seemed to smooth the edges (or tan lines, if you will), but if it’s too sweet for your taste, drop it like a name you’re not fond of.
Well, we’ve had a fair amount of Cocktail Talks from Dickens’ classic Barnaby Rudge on the ol’ Spiked Punch and that’s a fact. But I was recently visiting the lovely countryside of England, stopping in at any number of cozy, friendly, tasty, thirst-quenching, delightful country (and city!) pubs. And when doing so, while always recognizing them for their own varied and multitudinous joys, also always was driven to think a moment about the Maypole, the bar some of the book’s action and non-action circles around. Is it the book-bar (meaning, fictional bar from a book) I’d most like to visit? Hmm, perhaps! In honor of it, and in honor of all the dandy actual pubs recently visited, I decided I had to re-post the below quote. It’s such a lovely one (oh, for more on the actual book and more quotes, see all Barnaby Rudge Cocktail Talks, and for that matter, why not view all Dickens Cocktail Talks).
Old John would have it that they must sit in the bar, and nobody objecting, into the bar they went. All bars are snug places, but the Maypole’s was the very snuggest, cosiest, and completest bar, that ever the wit of man devised. Such amazing bottles in old oaken pigeon-holes; such gleaming tankards dangling from pegs at about the same inclination as thirsty men would hold them to their lips; such sturdy little Dutch kegs ranged in rows on shelves; so many lemons hanging in separate nets, and forming the fragrant grove already mentioned in this chronicle, suggestive, with goodly loaves of snowy sugar stowed away hard by, of punch, idealised beyond all mortal knowledge; such closets, such presses, such drawers full of pipes, such places for putting things away in hollow window-seats, all crammed to the throat with eatables, drinkables, or savoury condiments; lastly, and to crown all, as typical of the immense resources of the establishment, and its defiances to all visitors to cut and come again, such a stupendous cheese!
Though we’re well past Valentine’s Day, really, if you’re a perfect paramour or partner, you should be showing the love every day, right? Right! And what’s the best way to show the love? Making that favorite person of yours a dandy cocktail, perhaps one a bit sweet to show you think they’re the sweetest? Too much? Well, it makes for an interesting intro idea to this cocktail, which isn’t overly sweet, mind-you, thanks to the bountiful base of brandy (the most under-utilized base spirit). One top of which are two other dancing partners that might be a stitch sweet, but also deliver lovely (!!) flavors: Navan vanilla liqueur and the Italian charmer Dumante Verdenoce pistachio liqueur. Those three alone play together quite cozily, but adding an egg white, as we do here, gives a wonderful silky mouthfeel (as they say), one that’ll have you and yours canoodling happily any day of the year as you sip it.
Was thinking about how it’s mid-March and still quite chilly in this PWN part of the country, the kind of weather which leads me to a nice whisky or whiskey punch, hot, full of swellness, warming on multiple levels (temperature and whisky-a-ture). And then also thinking about yesterday being Saint Patrick’s Day, which then led me to thinking about the Anthony Trollope book called Castle Richmond, an early book for Spiked Punch pal Mr. Trollope, one that takes place in the beginning days of the Irish famine, and which, like many of his works, has dollops of humor in the midst of some non-humorous situations, and then all of it sprinkled with little everyday details, relationships, Cocktail Talks, life, love, and everything else (if that’s not getting too deep). Which then led me to wanting to post the below quote here, from said novel, a quote full of whisky punch. Oh, be sure to read all the Trollope Cocktail Talks for more from the book, and from many of his other works, too.
But the parlour was warm enough; warm and cosy, though perhaps at times a little close; and of evenings there would pervade it a smell of whisky punch, not altogether acceptable to unaccustomed nostrils. Not that the rector of Drumbarrow was by any means an intemperate man. His single tumbler of whisky toddy, repeated only on Sundays and some other rare occasions, would by no means equal, in point of drinking, the ordinary port of an ordinary English clergyman. But whisky punch does leave behind a savour of its intrinsic virtues, delightful no doubt to those who have imbibed its grosser elements, but not equally acceptable to others who may have been less fortunate.
Okay chums, I realize that Saint Patrick’s Day is just around the corner (Monday, I believe), and so many are looking for drinks specifically to celebrate it this weekend and the days around the day. Which is dandy! Though, I am very much of the opinion that you shouldn’t restrict your drinking of Irish-inspired tipples to this time of the year, as there are so many delicious products made there, and so many delicious drinks using said liquid delights. Take the Tipperary, for example. It’s a lesser-known (but should be better known) classic from the 1930s, which combines a nice helping of Irish whisky with two herbally heroes, the sometimes-hard-to-track-down-but-worth-the-tracking Green Chartreuse, along with Punt e’ Mes sweet vermouth (you could sub in another, but the slightly drier Punt e’ Mes goes perfectly here).
Speaking of subbing, you could go subbing in a range of Irish whisky in here, but I’m going with McConnell’s Irish Whisky, which delivers an amiable taste, with vanilla, nutmeg, spice, and a little smokiness. Blended and aged five years in American oak, it plays well with our other bottled partners, and has quite a history, as McConnell’s began whisky making in 1776, before a fire destroyed 500,000 gallons of whisky and a chunk of the distillery itself, not long after which U.S. prohibition came and finished the job. But like a tipsy phoenix, the distillery rose again and began sending out whisky around the world not too many years ago, whisky to be enjoyed any day, and in cocktails like this one.
Not but weeks ago (a short time in the grand scheme of time, which is quite a scheme indeed, and when you think about it, sort-of a mug’s game in a way, but one we can’t get out of, outside of one ending way, much is the pity) I had a variation on The Bobby Burns called The Midshipman Burns. And now, already, I have here another sort-of variation on the theme – but it’s a mighty good theme! This variation takes us a little farther afield, but also, not so far afield. Man, I’m musing today! Which is what happens when you drink a drink as flavortastic as this one, but also one that has a decent-sized wallop of Scotch as the base (going Speyburn single-malt 10 year, which is tasty, and also mixes well while maintaining its Scotch-ness). Makes the mind move, as Mr. Robert Burns himself would agree with. And then our other ingredients, legendary French herbal monk-a-rific liqueur Bénédictine, itself a wonder of time, and spicy, rich, smokey wonder Ancho Reyes chili liqueur, another wondrous number, are such intriguing players on this particular cocktail stage, which bring a very individual nature to this drink, a nature given another highlight via our last ingredient, earthy Peychaud’s bitters. Altogether, they won’t stop time, but they sure will make it more fun to follow.
I was sipping on a Martini with orange bitters added (a classic style of martini-ing) the other night, and while sipping was wracking my brain because I knew I’d read a quote in a classic pulpy book where a couple characters did just that, and it took for until the second cocktail to remember that it was Red Harvest! By legendary Dashiell Hammett! And the Continental Op (one of Hammett’s mainstay detectives) was one of the characters doing said sipping! It’s a grand book, one that any lover of last-century detective-etc. fiction should read, probably while drinking one of these. And while I’ve had the below quote on the Spiked Punch before, well, after the above moments, I decided it should be on here again.
When I came back she was mixing gin, vermouth and orange bitters in a quart shaker, not leaving a lot of space for them to move around in.
“Did you see anything?” she asked.
I sneered at her in a friendly way. We carried the cocktails into the dining room and played bottoms-up while the meal cooked. The drinks cheered her a lot. By the time we sat down to the food she had almost forgotten her fright. She wasn’t a very good cook, but we ate as if she were.
We put a couple of gin-gingerales in on top of the dinner.
I am a little late for suggesting this be a new edition to your Burns Night celebrations, that holiday being January 25th. But you know how the days go. And, honestly, I’m not sure this is a perfect match anyways, for two reasons. Reason one being that the classic cocktail known as The Bobby Burns, which The Midshipman Burns is based one, might not have even been created for the poet Robert Burns, said poet being of course the person celebrated on Burns Night – heck, the cocktail might have been created for a vacuum salesman from Queens or the Bronx. The Bobby Burns cocktail does make a nice accompaniment to the holiday even if it wasn’t originally created for the poet, just due to the base of Scotch, he being famously Scottish. Which brings us to reason two why this take on said cocktail might not be a perfect fit: it changes that Scotch base to a base of dark rum, while keeping some other core ingredients from the drink, so unless Robert Burns spent some time in the Caribbean, it’s probably best I didn’t post this drink on Burns Night, so-as to keep the Burns Night purists from cursing me. However! This is a fine variation on the theme, all poetic connections or not aside, so just drink it tonight, love it, and forget all my ramblings.
The Midshipman Burns
Cracked ice
2-1/2 ounces dark rum
1/2 ounce Carpano Antica
1/2 ounce Bénédictine
Lemon twist, for garnish.
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the rum, Carpano, and Bénédictine. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the lemon twist.
