Halloween, friends and neighbors (especially those neighbors who currently—it’s October as I write—have tombstones or spiders in the yard, all kinds of pumpkins around, maybe a skeleton or two, and more spooky stuff), is almost here. Which means I’m un-burying my favorite eerie fall cocktail, the Sleepy Hollow. I’ve written about it before hither and yon, but always like to bring it up this time of year, cause it’s delicious and matches the holiday so well. Just don’t lose your head over it!
1. Add the mint, lemon juice, and simple syrup to a mixing glass or cocktail shaker. Using a muddler or hefty wooden spoon, muddle well.
2. Fill the cocktail shaker or glass halfway full with ice cubes. Add the gin and apricot liqueur. Shake as if you heard the horseman’s hoof beats coming.
3. Strain into a large cocktail glass. Garnish with a sprig of mint and a swizzle stick topped with a plastic head.
Also, if you want to see how to make the drink visually, then I strong suggest you watch the below video—if you’re not too scared, that is.
When growing up, we owned a bunch of horses. And yeah, I showed them and all that (though not nearly as well as my sister). But, even with this bit of background, and my admiration for men in a certain type of suit, I never have spent much time at the track (that’s the horse track, for those of you still thinking Olympics). Which is probably one of the reasons I haven’t read much Dick Francis, who writes a lot of his mysteries around the tracks of England and the folks that hang out at or near them. But when on an extended trip to Italy once I was in a need of a book, and there was a Dick Francis number where I was staying, and so I read it, and liked it pretty darn well. It was called Whip Hand, and was horse-y, and had the following quote which I was quite fond of:
We met most weeks at noon in the upstairs bar of the Cavandish Hotel, where a pink gin for him and a whiskey and water for me now stood on prim little mats beside a bowl of peanuts.
If you read this blog much in the last six months (and if you haven’t, where you been pal?), you know I recently taught a cocktail class called Locatails at the swellest spot, the Pantry at Delancey. It was on two nights, a Friday and a Saturday, and all my students were the tops, and the cocktails we made were delicious I believe (all using local spirits, by the way), and fun was had hopefully by each and every person in the room. It was definitely had by me. Actually, I was having so much fun that I nearly forgot (as I tend to in classes—they’re too much fun) to snap any snaps of the drinks. Eh gads. Luckily, two of my students, Sarah and Emily, took some photos, and sent me an awesome one of the Alexander:
If you don’t know, the Alexander is the emperor of sweet drinks, the top dessert drink perhaps ever, and one that too many people have forgotten about. Its gin-chocolate-cream combination isn’t going to be atop too many health food fanatics’ top ten lists, but anyone who loves a smooth, rich, lovely-tasting cocktail will sure adore it. But don’t take my word for it, try the below recipe (which is from Good Spirits), and if you don’t fall in love with the drink, well, I’ll drink it for you.
Ice cubes 1 ounce gin (I suggest Voyager gin, or another juniper-forward brand)
1 ounce crème de cacao
1 ounce heavy cream
1 strawberry slice, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the gin, crème de cacao, and cream. Shake well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the strawberry slice.
In the post below this one, I introduced a book that I was destined to like (and had a long story about why—go read it why dontcha, if you haven’t), called The Man with a Load of Mischief, by Martha Grimes. What I didn’t say (cause I was going on and on too much) was that the title actually refers to a local pub in a small English village, and that a murder takes place at said pub along with three other murders at other local pubs. It’s a pub-murder-a-thon (which, on the page, I’m all for), and as you might expect with that set up has more than one quote that needed reproducing, which is why there is a Part II in the title above. But hey, just read and love the quotes, don’t worry about semantics.
Since Mrs. Withersby’s oracular powers were somewhat dimished by gin, not many people listened
In the meantime, Twig had shuffled in and taken their order for drinks. A pink gin for Agatha, a martini for Melrose. She leaned her ample bosom on folded arms and said, “Now, my dear Machett, let’s have Murch in here.”
Jury wasn’t used to such etherealized cup and china. His cup was shaped like a conch shell, the handle an airy spindle of green. He was almost afraid to pick it up. On a plate were tiny cakes, prettily iced.
“And were you in the Jack and Hammer on that Friday evening?”
“I popped in about six-ish for a Campari and lime, yes.”
So, I don’t just write about cocktails, drinks, distilleries, beer, booze, drinkers, drunks, and all that. Not that I don’t like to write about all of the above (and more!), but I like a little balance, too. Which means I have a day job (where I fight zombies, among other things). Which you might think isn’t fun, but let me clear your befuddled mind. See, I work with folks in the daytime who may not make drinks for a living, but who make damn fine drinks–and then sometimes take damn fine pictures of said drinks. Exhibits A and B are below. The first was made and taken by pal and co-worker Emi, and is a Raspberry Gin Fizz:
The next is a Mai Tai with lovely float of dark rum, with the drink made and photographed by pal and co-worker Lorie:
Now, those are some talented home-bartenders I get to work with from the 9 to 5. And yeah, you should be jealous.
So, there’s love. And that’s a good thing. But even when in love, there sometimes has to be a line of what you just won’t do, even for someone who you love (and I’m talking the love gamut here, from friend to significant other and all). And I think that old drinker-now-gone Richard Burton says it best (in a very specifically Spiked Punch kind of way) in the below quote, from the 1966 movie version of the Albee play, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf:
Now, I will hold your hand when it’s dark and you’re afraid of the boogeyman and I will tote your gin bottles out after midnight so no one can see but I will not light your cigarette. And that, as they say, is that.
Back a bit ago (not so long ago that it was, say, past century, but the recent past, which you probably still at least somewhat remember, unless you were hit on the head by a lead pipe, in which case you probably have deeper problems that the fact that you’ve forgotten what I’m about to remind you of) I wrote an article on Seattle’s Happiest Happy Hour Bartenders. In it, I talked about Bryn at the Rob Roy and how he made the more fantastico fizzes in lands near and far. Well, here’s the photographic evidence (a note: when it came out, I had already slurped off the top 1/2-inch of foamy goodness that was firm above the top of the glass):
Look at the foam on that fizz! Amazing. It was a Fine Point Fizz Fizz, with a wild, I tell you, wild range of ingredients: sherry, Strega, pineapple and lime juice, sparklin’ cava, and egg white. Not for the boring. And luckily, I’m not boring. I’m so un-boring that I wrote a short blog post for the Seattle Mag on poets and drinks and mentioned Bryn again–cause he’s all literary–with some wacky lit-tastic combining of Wallace Stevens himself and the drink (which is on the Rob Roy menu don’t cha know) the Mr. New Yorker. And here’s a pic of it (it’s a darn good drink even though un-fizzy, by the way, with gin, sherry, Cointreau, dry vermouth):
Here’s another un-boring thing: if you see me at the Rob Roy, and Bryn there’s, and you quote Wallace Stevens, I will buy you a drink. And give you a hug. Unless you just want one of the two.
I’ve been embracing the simple life lately (outside of the whole, “I have a million books and comics I’ll never get rid of”). Or, at least, a simpler cocktailing way of life. Not that I don’t still like the wacky, molecular, multi-flavored bitters, and obscurity driven ingredients list drinks that have started to dominate bar menus. If someone else is making it, I’ll try about anything, really. But at home, lately, I’ve been scaling it back. Partially because my daylight hours are often spent at a job that’s on the far far side of busy. But also just because it’s good to distill flavors, instead of trying to overlayer them (if that makes sense). So, some easiness without sacficing any taste. To demonstrate, the Refroidisseur de Mardi: a super simple number, but also one that’s super refreshing, and super in its ability to allow a couple ingredients to shine. It takes advantage of the newish Perrier Lemon sparkling water (full disclosure: I recently came home to a box of Perrier on my front porch) and the oldish gin. And not much more. Both wife Nat and I have been relaxing with these after long days at the office, while watching Perry Mason, and absolutely loving them. I strongly suggest, if you want to simplify, you do the same.
Ice cubes
1-1/2 ounces gin (Voyager is what we’ve used, but any London style gin will shine)
1/2 ounce freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 ounce simple syrup
Chilled Perrier Lemon
Lemon wheel, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the gin, lemon juice, and simple syrup. Shake well.
2. Fill a highball or comparable glass three-quarters up with ice cubes. Strain the mix into the glass over the ice.
3. Top the glass with Perrier, and stir carefully, bringing everything together. Garnish with the lemon wheel.
Halloween, friends and neighbors (especially those neighbors who currently—it’s October as I write—have tombstones or spiders in the yard, all kinds of pumpkins around, maybe a skeleton or two, and more spooky stuff), is almost here. Which means I’m un-burying my favorite eerie fall cocktail, the Sleepy Hollow. I’ve written about it before hither and yon, but always like to bring it up this time of year, cause it’s delicious and matches the holiday so well. Just don’t lose your head over it!
