A little serious (with the seriousness of gin), but with enough fruity overtones to ensure no one gets ponderous in conversation or step, the Après Coup is easy enough to make on a whim but layered enough in flavor to support a whole party. As long as the partiers weren’t opposed to staying up late. Cause you know a drink with Maraschino is going to have you up past midnight, right? I mean, the Maraschino (and I go Luxardo, because that’s the way I roll) is all about living after midnight. So much so that Rob Halford used to carry a whole crate of bottles of tour with him. Think I’m fibbing?
Cracked ice
1-1/2 ounces gin
1 ounce Chambord
1/4 ounce Maraschino liqueur
1 dash Peychaud bitters
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass three-quarters full with cracked ice. Add the gin, Chambord, Maraschino, and bitters. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass (or, if there aren’t any clean ones left, any old glass that isn’t tattooed with lipstick or halfway full with an old drink works).
In our last ad for Old Hickory, they’ve moved from Lincoln, to Leary, to just leering. Blunt like the beard on a creepy old man, there’s no patter and no palaver. Old Hickory just wants to get you drunk and put on old Bad Company records. Or, just wants to wear the Harbor Master jacket, lean up against his dingy, and mutter nasties under his breath as 18-year-olds walk past with horrified looks. Because (and this is no joke) the Harbor Master ad was right under this particular Old Hickory ad. A fitting end to the demise and decline of Old Hickory (which can’t be found any more, though I think pal Juan Shoreleave is going state-to-state trying. Watch for him).
This is the second in our series of Old Hickory ads (for the first, look below, or click this Old Hickey link), where Old Hickory decided one month after being more in the lineage of Lincoln (thanks Nicole for showing me that, um, obvious connection) that they wanted to become a bit more in the lineage of Leary. But use exactly the same graphics. So c’mon, join the trip, man (and woman).
Okay, this is the first of a three-part series of Old Hickory ads, charting the brand’s movement from somewhat reserved and reticent tipple probably most utilized by small town citizens who like to spend time on the front porch in a rocking chair talking about the goodness in populations under 1500, from that to a wilder and crazier far out swiller most consumed by brightly-colored college denizens out for a night of mind-bending free spirited alcohol and drug use, from that to a pretty twisted gulper utilized by boozed-up party boys on the make to entice those young ladies who don’t know any better to do things they shouldn’t probably do, with a smile. So, basically, charting the exact same trajectory as most men I knew growing up as they moved from seniors in high school to seniors in college. The strange thing, though, is that Old Hickory ran these ads in three consecutive months in a particular magazine. That’s re-branding at light speed people.
I (as demonstrated before) love me some Miller High Life. One summer, my pal Joel and I used to have a 12-pack chilled for us to drink on the porch every night at 2 am once home from the bars. One other summer (this was before High Life had a little hipster resurgence, too), my pal Erik and I drove up from Chicago to the Miller Brewing Company in Milwaukee and forced some sadsack salesperson to go into a back room and bring out a dusty box of High Life merch for us to wade through (we did buy a lot, admittedly). So, me and High Life have had a long and fruitful drunken relationship. And I’ve always referred to it, bottle, can, or keg, as the Champagne of beers. Now, the below ad is telling me that only bottles fit that description, and only uptight Wall Street types can drink said bottles, while working class chums are stuck with stinky ol’ cans and looking sadly at the privileged others. Damn, is even High Life stuck within some class-conscious vortex of suck? Or am I over-reacting? Should I just get a beer and go outside far away from corporate living and drink it and fill my talk hole with its golden goodness?
Dorothy Sayers isn’t an author I’ve read a lot of, even though she’s a mystery grande dame, whatever that means. I think it’s cause I don’t like her name (well, honesty hurts), or that having a love for one English drawing room mystery writer is enough (and I’m a Christy guy). All of which is stupid, cause not only have I enjoyed the few stories of hers that I’ve read, but she also wrote the poems, translated the divine Divine Commedia, was a generally nice lady, and her most well-known sleuth’s name is Lord Peter Wimsey. Lord Peter Wimsey is a fantastic name. So, Dorothy, here’s to me finally taking the plunge with you in a larger way, starting with this quote from her story “The Queen’s Square,” a quote I give to you cause it’s about gin and the youth of today (or everyday) who can’t get enough of that juniper stuff.
“You could,” retorted the old lady, “if you looked after your stomach and your morals. Here comes Frank Bellingham–looking for a drink, no doubt. Young people today seem to be positively pickled in gin.”
It’s August, and gardens are seriously in overdrive, and flowers are still showing their faces, and skirts and shorts seem to be getting even shorter. It’s enough to make one blush, all this blooming. But I suggest, all my little summertime Romeos and Juliets, that you remember what the word “accismus” means: showing no interest in something while secretly wanting it. Or, to say it another way, don’t forget to keep your cool in the face of all this sultry floral-ness. To help out, here’s a delish little floral drink. It’s a tad sweet, but sweetness will balance out the saltiness from any late-summer sweat.
Or at least he thinks he can in the below video. But he is challenging you to prove him wrong. So, if you’re tough enough, film yourself and then let him know. I’m just happy I can have an open beer served to me really darn fast (and without even having to break the bottle’s neck off with a rock. Which is what I usually do).
Another bartender showing up at your bar for a free drink after you had one at their bar? Check. A vest and bow-tie? Check. Giant hands getting ready to work out that shaker? Check. A little crankiness cause you’ve been slinging ‘em all day? Check. A super curvy redhead walking away from the bar and wearing a groovy shirt that you just can’t keep your eyes off of? Check. And that’s how the life behind the stick operates.
PS: I picked this panel up from the blog Warren Peace, in an article about the artist Steve Ditko (whose art I dig, especially in early Dr. Strange and old horror comics), coming out of panels from The Art of Ditko, edited by Craig Yoe, which is a full book of older Ditko. It almost should go without saying (cause those who read this blog occasionally will guess it already), but I found the Warren Peace blog via a link in a post on the otherworldly Neilalien site.
PPS: I’m not, any more, a professional bartender. But I know a lot of them. And this post is for them, especially the hard-working Andrew B who writes the hard-working blog Cask Strength.
Heck, I was going to say this: “some days, about 1 pm, I just get a feeling that I’d like some sort of sparkling wine cocktail.” But honestly, between us bubbly pals (and we are, I hope), what I really mean is this: “every day, about 1 pm, I just get a feeling that I’d like some sort of sparkling wine cocktail.” Today, it’s the Pensiero, which is from the upcoming Champagne Cocktails: 50 Cork-Popping Concoctions and Scintillating Sparklers. The Pensiero is a drink that involves thinking only to the point of the word (Pensiero) meaning “thought” (that’s almost a meta-booze-ical sentence). And to the point of tracking down a little Brachetto d’Acqui. If you don’t know, Brachetto d’Acqui is another in the lovely line of Italian effervescents, one made from the Brachetto grape (originally grown in the Acqui district). It’s lightly fizzy and features a taste redolent of berries, cherries, spices, and flowers–and it’s a bit sweet, making it an after-lunch or dinner partner of choice for many. If it’s 1 pm wherever you are, or fast approaching, then I suggest you track down a bottle and starting thinking about the Pensiero (whoa, that’s deep).
A little serious (with the seriousness of gin), but with enough fruity overtones to ensure no one gets ponderous in conversation or step, the Après Coup is easy enough to make on a whim but layered enough in flavor to support a whole party. As long as the partiers weren’t opposed to staying up late. Cause you know a drink with Maraschino is going to have you up past midnight, right? I mean, the Maraschino (and I go Luxardo, because that’s the way I roll) is all about living after midnight. So much so that Rob Halford used to carry a whole crate of bottles of tour with him. Think I’m fibbing?
Dorothy Sayers
