My collecting of Inspector Maigret (the Parisian policeman made famous in an amazing array of novels by Georges Simenon) continues apace, as they say, if perhaps not at the speed they mean when saying it, most recently when I picked up a gem called Maigret’s Revolver. In it, a young nervous fella stops by to see our taciturn Inspector at home, but Maigret’s out. The cuddly Madame Maigret lets the young man wait, but when she’s out of the room, he lifts a revolver (a present from Americans, naturally) that Maigret had left out. From there, the chase is on, a chase the becomes more fervid when a murder victim turns up in trunk dropped off by the young man’s father – a victim that was shot, but with a different gun! Maigret eventually ends up in sunny London, after a fair amount of twists and turns. And Cocktail Talks (be sure to read the many past Maigret Cocktail Talks, too), including the below pastis sipping with an old colleague.
“Hello! What are you doing in Paris?”
Lourtie, one of his former inspectors, had recently transferred to the Flying Squad in Nice.
“Just passing through. I thought I might drop in, sniff the air of headquarters and shake hands with you. Do we have time for a pastis in the Brasserie Dauphine?”
“Yes, but it’ll have to be a quick one.”
He like Lourtis, a tall lanky fellow with the voice of a church cantor. In the brasserie, where they stood at the counter, there were already several other inspectors. They chattered about this and that. A pastis was exactly what was needed on a day like today. They had one, then another, then a third.
I was recently lucky enough to be able to write about the 40 Acres Blending Co. for the snazzy Sip Magazine. 40 Acres, based in Snohomish, WA, is the first black-owned vermouth company, with one delicious vermouth available, Moxie Mule Bianco Vermouth, and more on the way. Go check that article out! In it, you’ll discover this cocktail I made with Moxie Mule, but I wanted to put it up on the ol’ Spiked Punch as well, just cause it’s good enough to have two mentions on the interwebs. To learn more about The Turfed, well, once again, read that article. While having this drink, if possible.
Well, it’s December. A lovely month in many ways, indeed. But also one where, here in the northernly hemisphere, at least, the mornings can get dark and chilly, and then darker and chillier, making them not always the coziest, especially when one has to take the dog out for their walk first thing after the alarm bells ring. Even if you aren’t lucky enough to have a dog, and even if you have a fire blazing, I’m guessing you have a few chilly dark mornings where you want to call morning out for not being more charming. This drink is a tasty way to do that, and to wake up (it also provides a spark to brunches when the cold air has caused a slowing of movement and conversations). Partially, the base of absinthe and its kick combined with spice. Partially, the nutty maraschino (mornings are nutty), whose sweet side helps round the absinthe’s sharper corners. Partially, the hearty helping of lemon juice, whose tang is sure to get the brainpan rocking (sidenote: that much lemon might be too much for some modern tastes. If that’s you, feel free to pull back a bit on it). Combined, these three are a trumpeting cocktail sure to balance even a morning that’s mostly bereft of good cheer. In short: this’ll wake you up and then some.
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the absinthe, maraschino, and lemon juice. Stir well, and turn off the alarm.
Our final Cocktail Talk featuring the mostly mild crime-solving Father Brown (now even more famous from the wonderful BBC show that I’ve watched, and that you should watch) takes place in France – Father Brown’s a bit of a globe trotter in the stories. And may not like absinthe, though that could be writer G.K. Chesterton, too. If you want a little more Father Brown – and you should – quick, then for gosh sakes don’t miss Father Brown Cocktail Talks Part I and Part II. And then maybe have a little absinthe and sip it while reading, good on you.
M. Armagnac looked at M. Brun. M. Brun borrowed the letter, read it, and looked at M. Armagnac. Then both betook themselves briskly to one of the little tables under the chestnuts opposite, where they procured two tall glasses of horrible green absinthe, which they could drink apparently in any weather and at any time. Otherwise the cafe seemed empty, except for one soldier drinking coffee at one table, and at another a large man drinking a small syrup and a priest drinking nothing.
Hey, first up: don’t forget to read the Father Brown Part I Cocktail Talk, or you’ll hate yourself when you wake up from your nap. Done? Back? We are into the second now, from the Complete Father Brown Stories by ol’ G.K. Chesterton. In this story (as in many) the good Father is traipsing around the globe, solving mysteries, making friends, spreading the legend. In this particular story, he’s in the midst of millionaires and revolutionaries (the amount of millionaires Father Brown hangs with is wild, really), and drinks, a bit, with murder right around the corner.
Perhaps the one point in common to the two council chambers was that both violated the American Constitution by the display of strong drink. Cocktails, of various colors had stood before the three millionaires. Halket, the most violent of the Bolshevists, thought it only appropriate to drink vodka. He was a long, hulking fellow with a menacing stoop, and his very profile was aggressive, the nose and lips thrust out together, the latter carrying a ragged red moustache and the whole curling outwards with perpetual scorn. John Elias was a dark watchful man in spectacles, with a black pointed beard, and he had learnt in many European cafes a taste for absinthe.
This is not a spelling error (not that I don’t make those a lot); if you didn’t know, there really is a drink called The Zazarac. It wants you to know that it, while not renowned and legendary and all that, it in its own way is also worthy of your attention, much like its very distant cousin (though maybe not the same amount of attention, admittedly). It has a rare rye and rum combo, some friendly supporting players in anisette (go Meletti) and absinthe and Angostura and orange bitters (go Regan’s), and takes the edges off with a splash of simple, and tops things with a twist. Will it have you stopping your Sazerac consumption? Nope. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it a sip.
Hey, it’s time for another Cocktail Talk featuring George Simenon’s legendary French detective Maigret, the stoic, large, over-coated, café-visiting crime solver. If you haven’t yet, check out past Maigret Cocktail Talks. This particular one, though, is from the very first of his books, which I was super excited to find in a little bookstore in Edmunds, WA. Sometimes the world lines up in great ways. And sometimes you have to drink an absinthe substitute with guttersnips in a dive bar.
Overall the man fitted a type that Maigret knew well: the migrant low-lifer of Eastern European origin who slept in squalid lodging houses and sometimes in railway stations. A type not often seen outside Paris, but accustomed to travelling in third-class carriages when not riding the footboards or hopping freight trains.
He got proof of his insight a few minutes later. Fécamp doesn’t have any genuine low dives, but behind the harbour there are two or three squalid bars favoured by dockhands and seamen. Ten metres before these places there’s a regular café kept clean and bright. The man in the trench coat walked right past it and straight into the least prepossessing of the bars where he put his elbow on the counter in a way that Maigret saw right through.
It was the straightforwardly vulgar body-language of a guttersnipe. Even if he’d tried, Maigret couldn’t have imitated it. The inspector followed the man into the bar. He’d ordered an absinthe substitute and was just standing there, wordless, with a blank stare on his face. He didn’t register Maigret’s presence, though the inspector was now right next to him.
Well, it’s the day after St. Patrick’s Day, so you may be up to your ears already in drinks utilizing Irish whiskey this week – but really, can you have too many? Not when you’re using some deliciousness like The Quiet Man Traditional blended Irish whiskey, which is re-casked in first-fill bourbon casks. It carries a very approachable nature, along with a vanilla, honey, apple, spice, and oak flavor that’s sippable, sure, but which also plays well with others – as in this drink. This drink, by the way, you’ll sometimes see with other ingredients (mostly a sloe gin variety). Well, the name you’ll see on other ingredients I suppose would be proper. But this time of year, this is the only way to go, as many have gone before you (it is a fairly old drink). Have a few, and you’ll be telling stories in no time. Unlike The Quiet Man founder Ciaran Mulgrew’s father, John Mulgrew, who this whiskey was named after and who worked many years in the Irish bar world, and who, as they say “told no tales.” A good story! Which also always makes a drink taste better.