In Their Cups week continues here at Spiked Punch, with another poem from the raddest collection of drinking and drinkers poems I’ve ever been associated with up to date (if you missed it, it’s a week celebrating In Their Cups because of a certain reading this Sunday). For today’s pick, I’m going with a poem celebrating one of my favorite drinks, and the drink to have the first Saturday in May–the Mint Julep of course. This poem about the legendary birth of the Mint Julep is by Charles Fenno Hoffmann, who was a New York writer, editor, and critic in the 1800s. If you’ve ever had a truly well-made Mint Julep (on May 1st or any other day), you’ll understand why he’d write such a ringing and singing and immortalizing number about the drink (and if you haven’t had a Mint Julep that matches the below, maybe we need to get you a better recipe or point you to a different watering hole).
The Mint Julep
‘Tis said that the gods on Olympus of old
(And who the bright legend profanes with a doubt?)
One night, ’mid their revels, by Bacchus were told
That his last butt of nectar had somehow run out!
But determined to send round the goblet once more,
They sued to the fairer immortals for aid
In composing a draught which, till drinking were o’er,
Should cast every wine ever drank in the shade.
Grave Ceres herself blithely yielded her corn,
And the spirit that lives in each amber-hued grain,
And which first had its birth from the dew of the morn,
Was taught to steal out in bright dewdrops again.
Pomona, whose choicest of fruits on the board
Were scattered profusely in every one’s reach,
When called on a tribute to cull from the hoard,
Expressed the mild juice of the delicate peach.
The liquids were mingled while Venus looked on
With glances so fraught with sweet magical power,
That the honey of Hybla, e’en when they were gone,
Has never been missed in the draught from that hour
Flora, then, from her bosom of fragrancy, shook,
And with roseate fingers pressed down in the bowl,
All dripping and fresh as it came from the brook,
The herb whose aroma should flavor the whole.
The draught was delicious, and loud the acclaim,
Though something seemed wanting for all to bewail,
Summer has finally it seems found its way to Seattle, and as hemlines go up with the increase in temperature, the amount of tall bubbly refreshing drink consumption also needs to go up. Sadly, I’m just looking out the window dreaming of the above right now (and while I meant dreaming of refreshing drinks, you can dream about them with rising hemlines if you want. I’m sure not gonna tell you not to), but when I move from dream to reality, I’m starting with a Foppa (the below recipe is from Dark Spirits, proving that the darker base spirits can be as useful in summer as in winter).
I found the Foppa in an Italian book called Cocktails: Classici & Esotici (Demetra, 2002) and love how it mingles ingredients from all over the globe: Scotch whisky, amaretto, dry vermouth (sometimes known as French vermouth), and ginger ale combine to become a lovely world tour of refreshment in a glass. Use it to break the heat and, after a couple, as a spur to taking those hemlines even higher. I mean, it is hot outside.
Ice cubes
1 1/2 ounces Scotch
1/2 ounce amaretto
1/2 ounce dry vermouth
Chilled ginger ale
1. Fill a highball glass three-quarters full with ice cubes. Add the Scotch, amaretto, and vermouth. Stir with a long spoon.
2. Top the glass off with ginger ale. Stir again.
A Note: The original recipe here suggests single-malt Scotch, but I like using a nice blended version, which I think works well with the other ingredients (something like Dewar’s is a dandy choice). They also suggest using Di Saronno Amaretto, which traces its secret recipe back to 1525. A good suggestion, I think.
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.)
I never thought it could happen to me. But there I was, in a fancy New York eatery, slurping up noodles and sipping a drink, when across the table this woman started making eyes at me, looking at me in a questioning way that I, from the beginning, completely understood (sometimes you just get that feeling, you know). She was wondering “is he ever going to answer the damn question, or just sit there staring dreamily at his cocktail?” See, the woman was the charming bartender-and-drink-writer Meaghan Dorman (who writes the saucy blog Spirit Me Away, and is head bartender at the smoove Raines Law Room), who was nice enough to interview me for Penthouse Magazine. We talked all about the Dark Spirits, and the super rad interview is now out, in the new issue of said magazine–the March 2010 Penthouse issue, that is. So, you have an excuse to buy Penthouse (certain gentlemen are already sprinting to the newsstand, they’re so excited to read the interview. And see my centerfold). The best part? You can honestly say, “I’m buying it for the articles.”
Here’s the problem, today (one of many, but hey, I don’t have that much time, as drinks are waiting for me somewhere). You want to fly safely, and avoid dangerous situations, but you also want to bring your booze on the trip, because everything is better with it (even being stuck next to that smelly guy that has to lean on you in the crowded coach section). With that said, I think there should be an addendum in aviation security that allows you to carry on a suitcase with one of these genius flat Old Crow Traveler bottles built in (see below ad for example)–as long as you’ll take a drink from it before boarding. Of course, Old Crow will have to bring these (genius, again, I say) bottles. But we can start a petition. I know my pal Jeremy Holt (author of Double Take, the world’s best cookbook, by the way) is in. And my man Ed Skoog (author of Mister Skylight, the world’s best poetry collection). And my comrade Dr. Gonzo (writer and director of Battleship!Battleship!Battleship!, the world’s best film about competitive Battleship playing). All of who are travelers. What about you? Let’s get this airline party started, like in the below ad (which, to be nostalgic, points to a better time. For flying at least).
Aw, the good life. I like the idea of the good life (though I have to imagine that it’s slightly different for everyone, but have to hope that for at least 95.47% of the people it involves having a drink with friends at least once in a while). And it seems others, even with their varied and various definitions like the idea of the good life, too. So much so that there is now a very handy, attractive, and fun website out there called The Good Life Report, that talks about dining, drinks, travel, wellness, and more items one might associate with living goodly, usually focused around a particular city or place or event or situation. Good things. Things I like. Which is why I was tickled when they wanted to use my Sazerac recipe for the most recent report (and pal Melissa Punch’s fantastic photo of said Sazerac), the one from Dark Spirits. Go check it out. And, if you like the good life,too (and really, who likes the bad life? Outside of Doctor Doom?), sign up for their newsletter, and get the good life delivered to your inbox.
PS: Bonus points (meaning, a drink on me next time we’re together) for anyone who can pick out the extra sentence or two that are in the Good Life Report Sazerac intro paragraphs but not in Dark Spirits. That’s a challenge people.
I am going to get out of the way on this one, because the important talking is all done in the below video, which is a sweet (but not sugary) review of Dark Spirits. The review comes from Jen at the Library of Eden (and, in case you’re getting all wiggy about it, let me assure you–I know no one from the Library of Eden, so this is an unbias’d awesome freaking review.) Check it out:
Some (foolish ones) think a marathon is just a race ran a certain number of miles from point A to point B. When, actually, many things (life, even, if you know the full story) are marathons, going from one point to another. Heck, maybe that’s just the way it feels today though. Whichever case you’re in to, it’s nice to have a good drink to sip after the marathon is over, or before the marathon happens, or to sip instead of running at all (my choice). I think the Class of the Race is ideal for these situations, with its classy blend of bubbly, bourbon, Bénédictine, Peychaud’s, and a touch of simply syrup. Learn to make it (and watch a real marathon ending with it) in the below video, filmed by Dr. Gonzo (genius—have you emailed him about getting your quarterly free Khaos Apocrypher by the way?) and featuring a troop of serious runners. Or drinkers.
Cocktail to Cocktail Hour V2, Four, Baltimore BracerFebruary 06, 2012
Everyday Drinking--a new segment on the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour starts here! Where we look at problems everyday drinkers like you have, or like Ian McIan has, and solve them. Today's solution--the Baltimore Bracer.
Cocktail to Cocktail Hour V2, Three, Hot BrickFebruary 06, 2012
Arctic survival 101--Episode 3 of the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour features the drink Hot Brick, made with whiskey, cinnamon, butter, simple syrup, and hot water, a drink that will help arctic denizens, polar explorers, and you survive frigid conditions.
Cocktail to Cocktail Hour V2, They Shall Inherit the EarthDecember 17, 2011
Booze, singing, jollity--Episode 2 of the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour features cocktail They Shall Inherit the Earth, made with Benedictine, Cointreau, brandy and lemon juice, a drink featured in Ginger Bliss and the Violet Fizz.
Season two of the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour kicks off with the Ellipse Cocktail created and made by poet Ed Skoog. It's a poetic mix of Strega and bubbly and more, with lots of party talk mixed within the moments. C'mon on by.
In Their Cups week continues here at Spiked Punch, with another poem from the raddest collection of drinking and drinkers poems I’ve ever been associated with up to date (if you missed it, it’s a week celebrating In Their Cups because of a certain reading this Sunday). For today’s pick, I’m going with a poem celebrating one of my favorite drinks, and the drink to have the first Saturday in May–the Mint Julep of course. This poem about the legendary birth of the Mint Julep is by Charles Fenno Hoffmann, who was a New York writer, editor, and critic in the 1800s. If you’ve ever had a truly well-made Mint Julep (on May 1st or any other day), you’ll understand why he’d write such a ringing and singing and immortalizing number about the drink (and if you haven’t had a Mint Julep that matches the below, maybe we need to get you a better recipe or point you to a different watering hole).
