November 29, 2010
I swear, this has to be a drink already, with another name. It’s very classically minded, and an obvious relative to drinks such as that which will not be named (but which ends in “tini”). It does use rose’ vermouth, which isn’t as readily available in the U.S. as one would hope (as you might expect, it’s neither as dry as French vermouth or as herbal as Italian vermouth, or dry and sweet vermouth respectively, and light on the tongue like its namesake wine), so it might not yet be named. However, rose’ vermouth has been available then and now, maybe moreso then, even, so some variation of this (maybe with a different bitters, since the Bitter Truth, even with their classical leanings, haven’t been around that long) seems like it has to have been around. I’d check the library, but the library is in Seattle and I’m in the Italy. Some bartender or bar writer out there will, I’m sure correct me. But until then, I’m going with Da Molto Tempo, and having it lots:
Cracked ice
1-1/2 ounces gin
1/2 ounce rose vermouth
1 dash Bitter Truth Aromatic bitters
Lemon twist, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass with cracked ice. Add the gin, vermouth, and bitters. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the lemon twist.
PS: For those inquisitive ones: it means “a long time ago.”
November 24, 2010
Living here in Italy for my pre-tirement, time sometimes seems to slip away. Not in a bad way, but because there are lots of Italian trips to take, Italian liqueurs to sample, and Italian restaurants to visit. But sometimes it is a smidge sad, as the mind doesn’t focus with the same type of precision as when stateside. For example, I completely forgot that November 8th was Harvey Wallbanger day. Dang. I’m hoping everyone reading this wasn’t as addle-pated as me, and remembered to have their Harvey Wallbangers on the 8th? If you’re like me, you enjoy your Harvey Wallbangesr most in the bathtub, so your evening on the 8th was spent (I imagine) with you (and someone close to you, if you have a big tub) pouring both a drink and a hot bubble bath, and then indulging in a large amount of relaxation and bliss. If, by some mistaken chance, or perhaps through a case of short-term amnesia, or because you weren’t alerted by your local bartender (shame on them), you also missed Harvey Wallbanger day, don’t fret too much—you can pretend it’s today, and make one up (to have in the above-mentioned tub, naturally). Here’s my recipe (the one I’ll be following when I do my own celebrating, in about three hours):
Ice cubes
2 ounces vodka
5 ounces freshly squeezed orange juice
1/2 ounce Galliano
1. Fill a highball glass three-quarters full with ice cubes. Add the vodka and the orange juice, and stir briefly.
2. Float the Galliano on top of the vodka-juice mixture.
October 18, 2010
When we moved to Italy (and, for the almost last time, if you haven’t yet, check my blog Six Months In Italy out to find information on that), we naturally had to make stopping by a grocery store one of the first things we did. Since we’ll be here awhile, we (and our bank accounts) can’t treat it like a vacation and go out to eat every night. And since wife Nat and I both dig being at the stove, it’d be silly not to cook at home, too. And, we couldn’t go without stocking up our liqueur supply either, to start to create a little home bar. I’m sure it’ll expand quickly, but for this starter trip, we solely picked up bottles of our two favorites: Aperol (Nat) and Strega (me). Of such bold beginnings will cocktail history be made. For now, though, what was made and is being made is a drink I call the “Stock-in-Trade.” Cause it uses what we have in stock, and it’s what we’ll make for the Italians to trade for cheese. That at least sounds fun.
One note: I forget to mention in the Six Bar Tools I Took to Italy post below that I also brought what will become (and has become already, really) essential for the Italian home bar, a little traveler’s set of The Bitter Truth bitters. Pal Debbi gave it to me before I left, and it contains little bottles of celery bitters, creole bitters, Bittermens mole bitters, old time aromatic bitters, and orange bitters, which are utilized in the below recipe. The Stock-In-Trade may shade a tad much on the sweet side for some, but it’s a solid sunshine-day recipe, with herbal hints coming at the end of each sip.
Ice cubes
1-1/2 ounces Aperol
1 ounce freshly squeezed orange juice
1/2 ounce Strega
1 dash Bitter Truth orange bitters
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the Aperol, orange juice, Strega, and bitters. Shake well.
2. Strain into a cocktails glass, or a pretty wine glass if that’s what’s handy.
October 1, 2010
Though it’s been orderable for a few weeks, in my mind today’s the real release date for the new bubbly book, Champagne Cocktails: 50 Cork-Popping Concoctions and Scintillating Sparklers. Why today, you ask? It’s because tonight is the effervescent evening celebrating the book’s release, with an event happening at Seattle’s rollicking-ist kitchen store, Dish It Up. If you’re in Seattle, you may even be able to still sign up (though it may be full–but hey, why not take a chance). In honor of the book and event, here’s a recipe from the book that I’ll be serving tonight at the event, a recipe for the Lavanda. Doesn’t that have a mysterious name, like a forbidden dance? The drink itself is somewhat mysterious too, or at least mysteriously delicious, thanks to the lavender simple syrup–and the gin and Prosecco of course.
Serves 2
Ice cubes
4 lavender sprigs
3 ounces gin
1-1/2 ounce lavender simple syrup (see note)
Chilled Prosecco
1. Add the flowers from the top of two lavender sprigs, the gin, and the lavender simple syrup to a cocktail shaker. Using a muddler or wooden spoon, muddle well.
2. Fill the cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Shake like a dancer.
3. Strain equally into two flute glasses. Top each with chilled Prosecco, and garnish each with a lavender sprig.
A Note: To make lavender simple syrup, add 1/4 cup chopped fresh lavender, 2 cups sugar, and 1 1/2 cups water to a medium-sized saucepan. Heat over medium-high heat until it reaches a low boil, stirring regularly. Once it reaches that low boil, reduce the heat to medium- low and keep the syrup at a simmer, still stirring, for 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and let cool completely.
August 27, 2010
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).
Tags: Chambord, cocktail recipe, Gin, Luxardo, Maraschino, Peychaud bitters, recipe, Rob Halford, What I Wish I Was Drinking
Posted in: Almost Drinkable Photo, Gin, Liqueurs, Recipes, What I Wish I Was Drinking
May 23, 2010
Okay, right up at the front of the stage, before the curtains go up, let me tell those readers who don’t know, what MxMo is (or at least give out what I know, which isn’t a whole barrelful of knowledge, since I’ve never had the pleasure of taking part before). Basically, it’s a bunch of bar-booze-drunken bloggers making up or bringing out a drink under a particular theme, on a Monday. So, mixology Monday I suppose. A different blog hosts every one (one a month, I believe), and they round up links to the posts about the theme on the day on their site, and send readers out and about and around the interweb to see those other posts about the theme. From what I’ve read when going boozing on the web on Mondays, the themes tend to be a particular spirit, liquor, or ingredient. However, when the really wacky bar blogger hosts, the theme may just be more, let’s say esoteric. Which is the case this month, as drink-slinger Andrew Bohrer who blogs at Cask Strength is hosting the MxMo, and he chose Tom Waits.
Which actually makes fantastically fantastic sense, as Andrew talks about in his top MxMo post (right here), in story fashion, which Waits himself would enjoy, I think. See, at heart, going around the rumbling voice and the at times otherworldly instrumentation and the harlots and hard heads, Waits is a storyteller, a boozy troubadour, a chronicler of the forgotten nights and the railroad yards, of trombone funerals and waking up wearing bruises and regret in a hotel next to the railroad tracks, of lost and long- elapsed love, and of gospel music sung under a blistering sun when all you want is a glass of whiskey and s single ice cube and the time to drink the world down.
Of course, as the above going on and on probably demonstrates, and since I’ve mentioned him in cocktail recipe intros in pretty much every book I’ve written, I’m a Tom Waits fan. I have most CDs, and listen to him on a regular basis, and have sat up singing Tom Waits with pals and bourbon and brandy until 4 am multiple times, have sat in a parked car half drunk singing Tom Waits while the thunder hit the hood like a million fists, and have put Tom Waits songs on jukeboxes with a glass of gin in one hand in more bars, lounges, dives, and hole-in-the-walls then I can remember. But as I haven’t gotten to my drink yet, I’m gonna put a leash on my Waitsean ramblings and start pouring.
Oh, wait, give me another sec, to give a drink backstory. Though I enjoy all the Waits CDs I have (including those Andrew mentions, Closing Time, Small Change, and the rollicking live Nighthawks at the Diner), the one I go back to the most is Rain Dogs. From the opening “We sail tonight for Singapore” to the New Orleans horns playing the funeral out at the record’s end, Rain Dogs matches more moods and moodiness and must-have-a-drink-while-listening-to tracks to me than any other. And while I don’t have a “favorite” song on Rain Dogs (this makes a type of sense, since they go together like egg drinks and mornings), “Tango Till They’re Sore” is the song (don’t take this morbidly, by the way) I want played at my funeral. I just want folks there to have good music, to drink well, and to toast me relentlessly, and this song, which starts “Well ya play that Tarantela and the hounds they start to roar” does just that. Not to mention that the chorus goes:
Let me fall out the window
With confetti in my hair
Deal out jacks or better
On a blanket by the stairs
I’ll tell you all my secrets
But I lie about my past
So send me off to bed forever more.
Rain Dogs also has a dandy song called “Jockey Full of Bourbon” (which has the classic line, a line I can sympathize with, “I’m full of bourbon, I can’t stand up”), so I wanted my drink to have a bourbon base, and bourbon is also mentioned multiple times within the record. The only other spirit dropped in the album is brandy (in “Union Square”), so I decided to double up on base spirits a bit, and then I wanted to bring in some bitters, in honor of the line in “9th & Hennepin” that says “till you’re full of rag water, bitters, and blue ruin.” So, that got me to three, a magic number, but because Tom Waits is also an original, I wanted to bring another ingredient into the drink that isn’t mentioned in one of his songs (four can be a magic number too y’all), but that has at least a tangential connection, and so I went with St. Elizabeth’s Allspice Dram. For one, it tastes great. For two, St. Elizabeth’s could be an insane asylum. For three, it’s based on an older ingredient called “Pimento Dram” which I could see Waits-style sailors drinking on a leaking dingy. When mixed in the following way, these ingredients in honor of Tom Waits and Andrew Bohrer make The Hounds They Start to Roar:
2 ounces bourbon (I used Blanton’s)
¾ ounce St. Elizabeth’s Allspice Dram
½ ounce brandy (I used Grand Duke d’Alba cause I’m walking Spanish down the hall)
2 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters
1. Fill a cocktail shaker, mixing glass, dented top hat, or ladies leather boot halfway full with cracked ice. Add the whole bunch of ingredients. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass or goblet. Garnish with a sad song.
PS: Feel this needs a garnish? I suggest an ice pick, a dented fender from a ’54 Ford, or a tattooed tear.
Tags: Andrew Bohrer, bourbon, Brandy, Cask Strength, cocktail recipe, Cocktail Recipes, MxMo, Peychaud's bitters, Rain Dogs, St. Elizabeth's Allspice Dram, The Hounds They Start to Roar, Tom Waits
Posted in: Almost Drinkable Photo, Brandy, Recipes, Whiskey
March 23, 2010
Okay, I’m just thirsty. So thirsty I don’t have the energy to write the full-on over-the-top legendary journey of cocktails blog post I want to write about the weekend before last, a weekend of amazing cocktails that would leave every other blog post in the dusty dust, that would make you want to stroll in my shoes (or at least borrow my throat and tastebuds for awhile), a blog post that would involve at least 74.5% of the top cocktail creators in Seattle, and me tasting their drinks, a blog that would make you drool like George the Animal Steel before a cage match, a blog that might just have you (if you don’t live in Seattle already) running screaming to your suitcase, packing said suitcase, and getting a ticket here poste haste, a blog that if you already lived in Seattle would make you instantly descend to the floor crying tears of joy in front of your liquor cabinet, shelf, or box, happy that you could follow my footsteps in cocktails, a blog that might just cause the whole internet to go silent as a lonely ice cube due to everyone shaking off the electronic shackles to go on a drinks quest, the blog I want to write but just am too thirsty to write (but write it, someday, I will), so instead I’m just writing this post about how much I’d like to be drinking an Athenian at Cicchetti, a drink made with Metaxa, Martini and Rossi Bianco vermouth, and Scrappy’s grapefruit bitters, the very drink pictured below. Look at it, friends, and dream along with me (and if you’re not on the Scrappy’s bitters wagon, then get on it.)
Tags: Almost Drinkable Photo, bitters, Brandy, Cicchetti, Cocktail Art, Scrappy's Bitters, vermouth, What I Wish I Was Drinking
Posted in: Almost Drinkable Photo, Brandy, Cocktail Art, Dark Spirits, What I Wish I Was Drinking
January 5, 2010
Okay, full disclosure straight up: the bar manager at the new (as opposed to the older version from a few years ago) Mistral Kitchen in Seattle is a pal of mine. A good pal, even. His name’s Andrew Bohrer, and I’ve blogged about him before, cause he makes damn good drinks, and isn’t all snooty about it (and his blog Cask Strength is full of booze and cursing, which is nice). Heck, I’ve heard him praise PBR as casually as Pappy’s 15-Year bourbon. Here he is, getting busy with pouring:
This all means that when wife Nat and I went to Mistral recently (during the “soft opening” phase) we were probably going to be pretty forgiving, if needed. But to get around the whole “of course you’ll say nice things, you know them” I’m going to keep commentary at a minimum, and go the photogenic route (which is great for me, cause I’m, well, hot and so inclined to like the photogenic route). The quick summary, though, before the photos (did you think I’d back out of editorializing completely?): the savory food was still being worked out, but solid ingredient choices, if pretty straightforward preparations (this on the veggie side); the dessert-y food was interesting and delicious and architectural and a step above the savory right now; the cocktail food was, well, great. Now, onward. We had some roasted veggies, but they weren’t as good as the wood-roasted mushrooms:
And we had a vinaigrette’d green salad (good, but pretty spare), which wasn’t as good as the cheese plate:
With the meal, Nat had an Aviation cocktail (we both went classically at first, picking off the old-school short bar menu), which was dreamy and cloudy like a cloudy dream:
I had the Mint Julep, which was made just right, with the right crackity-cracked ice, the right metal julep cup, and the right healthy amount of bourbon. Pretty, even:
For dessert, we had the Ultra Brownie, and it was ultra creamy chocolate goodness, but topped, I felt, by the Walnut Honey Cake (the desserts, made by chef Neil Robertson, both kicked sugary ass though), which came with rich figs and homemade (natch) chestnut ice cream:
With desserts, Nat had a fresh cocktail that Andrew had recently been working on (as an aside: isn’t it always swell to be able to be one of the first to taste a new drink? I think it’s swell), which mixed 1 ounce gin, 1/2 ounce kirsch, 1 ounce blanc (not dry) vermouth, and 1/2 ounce orgeat. It was really jumping (or frolicking) with the balance of dry to sweet right on. And, he called it the Tauntaun. Geeks, rejoice:
For my last drink, I had a Fernet Old Fashioned, which Andrew had been telling me about, and about who originally created it, but now I can’t find the email. Maybe he’ll be so kind as to leave the info and the instructions in the comments. Though he is busy. But not that busy (so get to it, Andrew). Anywho, before starting an online booze war, let me say that I dig Fernet, and this drink was the tops. I love the phat orange rind, and the ice ball, and the bitter-after-dinner experience that is summed up in this glass:
That’s the Mistral Kitchen kids, well worth a visit, especially if you belly up to the bar and let the cocktails roll. Just be sure to order a drink with an orange peel:
