Sometimes, I sit and think, “what a world we’re living in.” Sometimes I think that for sad reasons, but I try to balance it out by thinking that for happy reasons – one of those reasons being the widely, wildly, available amount of cocktail bitters we have available today. Even when I started this blog like 10,000 years ago (or early at the turn of the millennium), there weren’t many bitters at hand outside of standbys (delicious standbys) Angostura and Peychaud’s, and if you could get them, the Fee Brothers line (which wasn’t all that get-able in many places). Now, we have an abundance of bitters, and that allows me to make drinks like this, which uses two bitters from the wonderful Seattle-based Scrappy’s bitters. I can’t – though I’ve certainly tried! – sing the Scrappy’s praises enough, and I’m so glad to be able to bring this drink to another layered level of flavor by including both Scrappy’s Grapefruit and Scrappy’s Orange bitters, which delivery different delicious expressions of herbal and citrus goodness, taking the drink to righteously royal levels with a few other key ingredients helping out as well Drumshanbo Sardinian Citrus Gin, Grand Marnier, and Prosecco. All together they deliver a combo any monarch (even if they’re just regal to their pets) would be happy to have at a June brunch or evening party. Just remember to toast the bitters, which truly make it better.
I tend not to be a big fan of sugar, salt, spice, etc. on the rim of a cocktail glass when I’m drinking a cocktail. I don’t get all upset about it if I have such, cause drinking oughta be fun, not upsetting, but it’s not my favorite, cause really, I wanna taste the drink and its ingredients and not be overwhelmed by whatnots on the glass. I realize others take a different take on this, and that’s just okay with me! Again, drinking oughta be fun! However, there is one (maybe more, but that wouldn’t make such a good transition) drink I am okay with a sugared rim on, and that’s Mrs. Solomon Wears Slacks. Because it’s from Crosby Gaige’s Cocktail Guide and Ladies Companion, published in 1941, and I don’t want the ghost of bon vivant Gaige haunting me. Unless ghosts are all-of-a-sudden able to become corporeal enough to shake cocktails; if that’s the case, haunt away Mr. Gaige! And start the haunting by serving up this amazingly-named drink.
Mrs. Solomon Wears Slacks
Ice cubes
Super-fine sugar
2 ounces brandy
1/2 ounce orange curaçao
3 dashes Angostura bitters
Lemon twist
1. Put a good helping of sugar on a saucer. Wet the outside rim of a Champagne flute (I used a lemon slice, but you could also rotate it through water on a saucer–just don’t get any water in the glass). Carefully rotate the outside rim of the glass through the sugar–but you don’t want to get any sugar on the inside.
2. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the brandy, curaçao, and bitters. Stir well.
3. Strain the mix into the flute. Garnish with the lemon twist. Now, dance!
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.
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.
Poor Harriet, she was so sad, as she didn’t have a partner to sip bubbly cocktails with on Valentine’s Day (it is, by the way, Valentine’s Day today, if you’d forgotten), and was thinking she’d spend the whole day alone, staring out the window, sighing as sad music played in the background. But then she came up with this very drink, with a gin base (London-dry style here I think), and lover’s favorite, the pretty Parfait Amour (which, if you don’t know, is florally with citrus and spice cuddles), a bit of fresh orange juice (brilliant Harriet knows fresh is best), a dash of Peychaud’s bitters, some bubbles in the form of prosecco, and a tiny bit of simple syrup (she wavered a bit here – you might too, and dropping the simple is okay). Once she whipped up this drink, she had offers for days from people wanting to be her valentine. But then she realized spending a day alone and not buying into the corporate holiday is actually quite lovely, and she made herself one of these and enjoyed it immensely.
Well, it’s January, and I know these days a few fair amount of folks take part in dry January, or Dryuary (I made that last name up right now), both cause of knowing folks that do it and cause of the many (or some) notes from PR folks I receive asking if I’m doing any dry January stories. I’m not! But not because I’m opposed to the idea – what works for some works for them and I’m certainly not looking down on it. And I can see the rationale, especially after the holiday season with its parties and mistletoe and chilly days for many. If you’re flirting with the drying out, but maybe just want to go part way, into the lower ABV realm, then here’s a nice choice for you: The Trocadero. With a combination of dry and sweet vermouth as its base, it delivers a lot of flavor with less alcohol umph, while not removing said booze entirely. Actually, no matter the month in question, it makes a swell aperitif cocktail, as well as just a tasty number for anytime you want to go a little less ka-pow (brunching? It’s dandy. First dates? Ideal! See, anytime). Give it a whirl, but follow my lead and make your own grenadine. Adds more pizzazz, and is easy (and so much of the store-bought grenadine is lame. And you don’t want to start the year on a lame note).
Ah, here we are, 2025. If you can believe it – a new year, and one that would have seemed impossibly futuristic to a young me. Of course, the things that appeared top of the importance list to young me (I am old, I was young, you get it) on a January 3rd at say my tenth year, well, I’d have a hard time remembering them now, outside of whispers, at best. Not to say my memory is horrible, but, you know, time passes, specifics slip. For some reason, the early days of a new year, when so many are making resolutions and looking forward, always has me looking into the past, too. And when doing such, one needs the proper cocktail accompaniment – like this very drink, An Elusive Memory, which is named appropriately, and tastes swell, too. It combines deliciously-proper London-style gin Boodles (a firm favorite of mine for making cocktails and cause the name itself is fun to say) with a few friends that at first may not seem to go together: the exquisite Meletti anisette, the legendary Lillet, and Peychaud’s intriguing Whiskey Barrel Aged bitters. Really, we’re globe-trotting here, and the mixture comes together as smoothly as a flight without turbulence. All these flavors that may appear to be clashing are actually cozy, with various notes surfacing as you sip – in a way, to bring it all together, like memories surfacing as you troll the ol’ brain pan.
