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.
I am a little late for suggesting this be a new edition to your Burns Night celebrations, that holiday being January 25th. But you know how the days go. And, honestly, I’m not sure this is a perfect match anyways, for two reasons. Reason one being that the classic cocktail known as The Bobby Burns, which The Midshipman Burns is based one, might not have even been created for the poet Robert Burns, said poet being of course the person celebrated on Burns Night – heck, the cocktail might have been created for a vacuum salesman from Queens or the Bronx. The Bobby Burns cocktail does make a nice accompaniment to the holiday even if it wasn’t originally created for the poet, just due to the base of Scotch, he being famously Scottish. Which brings us to reason two why this take on said cocktail might not be a perfect fit: it changes that Scotch base to a base of dark rum, while keeping some other core ingredients from the drink, so unless Robert Burns spent some time in the Caribbean, it’s probably best I didn’t post this drink on Burns Night, so-as to keep the Burns Night purists from cursing me. However! This is a fine variation on the theme, all poetic connections or not aside, so just drink it tonight, love it, and forget all my ramblings.
The Midshipman Burns
Cracked ice
2-1/2 ounces dark rum
1/2 ounce Carpano Antica
1/2 ounce Bénédictine
Lemon twist, for garnish.
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the rum, Carpano, and Bénédictine. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the lemon twist.
You might think that I’m in error here, in my typing, or that I’ve gone off the rails into some other universe, or parallel time range, or some other high-brow theoretical bar or lounge where the Sazerac, one of the world’s most well-known and beloved drinks, has a different spelling. But, nope! This is a separate drink entirely, been around for a bit, though not so well-known, and not ordered much if at all. Which is a shame, as it’s fairly tasty, though containing a passel of ingredients: two base spirits (rye and rum), two bitters (Angostura and Orange, Scrappy’s Orange here), other items of note (anisette and absinthe to be specific). It’s probably that ingredient list which has scared off drinkers and drink makers, but they somehow go together. Perhaps not with that beautiful simplicity the Sazarac is known for (though they do share absinthe in their lists), but delivering a layered flavor that’s memorable in its own right. Give it a whirl – though don’t give up Sazaracs if you fall in love with this here drink. There’s room for both.
When I first posted this drink, many many moons ago, I talked about how it was a favorite of legendary legend Pliny the Elder (who wrote the Naturalis Historia and more). Well, maybe it wasn’t his favorite per se, but the name is inspired by him, and beyond any of my silliness, this is a lovely drink to have this time of year, whether you’re reading very very very old authors or not, due to its warming peppermint tea base, which is just the ticket for a chilly November morning. Or afternoon. Or evening! Especially when combined with Planteray’s Original Dark rum, which delivers notes of smoke, citrus, banana, and spice that play quite nicely with the tea, and with Averna amaro, whose herbally goodness also plays quite nicely. Pliny himself would be happy to sip it, and you will be, too.
I have a pal named Daisy. She’s not from Santa Cruz, but I still feel I should introduce her (and probably others, as it’s not what you’d call a well-known drink today) to this charming sipper, which I found when perusing the liquor book shelves and pulled out the pocket-sized The Standard Cocktail Guide: A Manual of Mixed Drinks Written for the American Host. Written by gadabout, bon vivant, and early cocktailian Crosby Gaige (author also of the Cocktail Guide and Ladies Companion, which is a bit more fun) and published in 1944. A dandy little read, so keep your eyes open for it. And full of good drinks. Browsing random old books is a jolly way to decide on a drink to have when you aren’t feeling 100% in any direction, as I was when first making this. I used mint – because I had a lot – instead of the traditional Daisy fruit topping, and used crushed instead of shaved ice, as the shaver was down (or non-existent). Still, a tasty drink, and one all Daisies – and most others – will probably dig sipping.
The Santa Cruz Daisy
2 ounces white rum
1/4 ounce maraschino
1/4 ounce simple syrup
Crushed ice
Fresh mint sprigs
Splash of soda water
1. Add the rum, maraschino, simple syrup to a mixing glass and stir well.
2. Crush a bunch of ice in your Lewis bag (see NOTE below).
3. Fill a goblet or comparable glass with ice, and strain the mix gently over it, topping with more ice as needed.
4. Add a splash of soda and garnish with mint sprigs.
A NOTE: If you don’t know (and I didn’t at one point) a Lewis bag is the traditional bag bartenders use to crush ice. If you can get one, the McSology Lewis bag is ideal, made in Seattle out of 100% cotton canvas. Put ice cubes in the bag, get out your muddler, and start crushing.
We are just two days until the calendar start of fall – not saying it’s not the actual start of fall either, but really, seasons aren’t meant to be started up and shut down like light-switches, and are as much perhaps a state of mind as much as anything. For me, on some level, fall hasn’t started properly until I’ve had a glass of this Steaming Spiked Cider, which traces back to a recipe had when I was young (sans booze, unless I snuck a glass from the parental pot). Does that mean the years I forgot and didn’t have this didn’t have a fall, going straight from summer to winter? Maybe? Maybe not, but there’s something about this apple (apples being the fruit of fall, naturally) and cinnamon and spice and rummy mix that screams (gently) of hayrack rides, barn dances, chillily pretty evenings, eventually Halloween and the surrounding happily haunted days, and if that wasn’t enough, I think it’d be swell for fall football afternoons (as is Football Punch, of course). So, it’s fall in a warm glass. Yummy fall. And, to be fair, it’s pretty good during winter, too. But that’s another season, and I don’t want to skip the days too rapidly.
Steaming Spiked Cider
4 quarts fresh apple cider
20 ounces cinnamon schnapps
16 ounces white rum
1 teaspoon whole cloves
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
10 cinnamon sticks
10 apple slices, for garnish
1. Add the cider to a large nonreactive saucepan. Heat over medium heat for 5 to 10 minutes
2. Add the cinnamon schnapps, rum, cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon sticks. Simmer for 15 minutes, but don’t let the mixture boil.
3. Once thoroughly warm, ladle the mixture into heatproof mugs, making sure that each mug gets a cinnamon stick. Garnish each with an apple slice.
A Note: Here are three thing that I believe are important when making this. 1. Be careful with the cloves when scaling (meaning, if you make a bigger batch, be careful as too many cloves can take over the flavor). 2. Use apple cider (which is good and cloudy) not apple juice. 3. Boiling boils off some of the alcohol. If getting mistakenly to a boil, or leaving the cider on the stove for an extended period, add more rum as needed. Cause you gotta stay warm on multiple levels.
A Second Note: This may be too much cinnamon for some. I see no problem, for balance, in upping the rum.
If you thought I was only going to have The Wrong Murder Part I Cocktail Talk on this site, and thereby only having one quote from Craig Rice’s third John J. Malone book, boy were you wrong. I think they’ll be at least one more even than this. Don’t miss the past Craig Rice Cocktail Talks, either, so you can learn more about this neat mid-last-century female crime writer and gadabout. But first, check out the below, where press agent (currently unemployed press agent, that is) Jake Justus (one of our three main characters) and a few others are in need of rum due to his recently-married wife Helen Brand’s wild driving:
As soon as Jake felt that he could turn his head without its falling off his neck, he looked back. The gangster’s car was still following, a little farther behind, but there. Jake decided to take back fifty per cent of everything he had thought about Little Georgie la Cerra. Or at least his driver.
Helene said, “There’s a bottle of Bacardi somewhere in the back seat, in case any of you big, strong me feel faint.”
By the time the bottle had been passed around, her passengers were able to speak again.
Here’s another Cocktail Talk quote from one of the super swell British Library Crime Classics anthologies. We’ve had a number of them on here in the past, as I’ve been slowly picking these collections up – there are a fair amount, all well edited by the hardest-working editor (at least it seems so from the many collections and individual novel reprints he’s edited) in fiction, Martin Edwards. Each, as a reminder or if you missed them in the past, features an assortment of mystery stories from better-known and lesser-known British writers who put pen to paper around the beginning of last century, with a little wiggle room on dates, all around a central theme. Today, the anthology is called Crimson Snow, and as you might expect, all the mysteries within it take place in winter, many around the holidays proper. Like in other collections in the series, some of the stories are known, some lesser-known, and some recovered by Mr. Edwards from deep in the pile, so to speak (meaning, they’d not be known at all today if he hadn’t dived deep into the British Library archives to find them). Being able to read these latter stories is amazing, to me, as nearly all are worthy reads, and ones I’d never have found on my own. Even some that were by authors very popular in their time, such as Victor Gunn (aka Edwy Searles Brooks), who wrote the story the below quote is from, a story called, straightforwardly enough, Death in December. Mr. Brooks wrote a fairly massive amount of books, and while he isn’t read as much today, perhaps he should be – these anthologies are great for introducing you to writers you don’t know but can hunt down more books by. This particular story features a sturdy, no-nonsense police detective named Bill “Ironsides” Cromwell (who featured in 43 books!) and his sidekick younger sergeant Johnny Lister, who find themselves trapped at country-house holiday party in a snowstorm, with a corpse (or two), lots of holiday merrymakers, an impossible crime, a ghost (?), and more chilly fun. As well as some excellent hot toddy.
Bill Cromwell and Johnny Lister quite naturally found themselves in a little gathering of men round the library fire after the ladies and more of the other guests had retired for the night. There was some excellent hot toddy going, and, incidentally, going fast. Everybody round the first was very talkative and affable; men who had not met one another until that same evening were pouring confidences into one another’s ears, and forgetting all about them the next minute.
