I’m going to skip the preamble for this post (you can catch that in Alexis Soyer Cocktail Talk I and Alexis Soyer Cocktail Talk II) and get right the quotes, which are again taken from the superb Soyer bio Relish by Ruth Cowen. These quotes are again showing why Soyer fits on a cocktail and drinks blog (even though he’d probably be more associated with the culinary arts as opposed to the cocktail arts. Though really, they go together so nicely). And the first one uses the phrase “oesophagus burners,” which is a phrase I’d like to see back in circulation.
Beneath this terrace, reached via a wooden staircase, was an American-style bar called The Washington Refreshment Room, which was to all intents and purposes the first cocktail bar in London. It provided thirsty customers with such daring modern concoctions as ‘flashes of lightning, tongue twisters, oesophagus burners, knockemdowns, squeezemtights . . . brandy pawnees, shadygaffs, mint juleps, hailstorms, Soyer’s Nectar cobblers, brandy smash, and hoc genus omne.’ More than forty cocktails were on offer, and among the candidates for the job of barmen, said Sala, was ‘an eccentric American genius, who declared himself perfectly capable of compounding four at a time, swallowing a flash of lightning, smoking a cigar, singing Yankee Doodle, washing up the glasses, and performing the overture to the Huguenots on the banjo simultaneously.
. . . the festivities almost came to a dramatic end when a paper lantern caught fire and the flames quickly spread across the roof–but a young officer hoisted himself up to the beams and managed to extinguish it. The band resumed, and Alexis produced his special punch–Crimean Cup à la Marmora–a lethal blend of iced Champagne, Cognac, Jamaican rum, maraschino, orgeat syrup, soda water, sugar, and lemons.
They said it couldn’t be done! They said that dark rum, Fernet-Branca, apricot liqueur, and lime couldn’t be mixed together! They said that Ginger Bliss and the Violet Fizz couldn’t contain a drink that contains said ingredients, and they said it couldn’t be delicious, herbal, and tangy all at once! They said that a drink named after a whip and a world-beater (or, conqueror) couldn’t be made, that the good people of this here earth I stand on wouldn’t sip it up like the nectar of the gods! They said that it wouldn’t be an ideal mixture for Fall’s cold days, and that it wouldn’t slide the chill right off like a loose negligee! They said, they said, they said. Who is they (you might say)? Well, I’m not 100% sure. But they’re bad people. Unlike you and I. Both of whom (I sure hope) love this drink.
Ice cubes
1 -1/2 ounces dark rum
1 ounce Fernet-Branca
1/2 ounce apricot liqueur
1/4 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice
Lime twist, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the rum, Fernet-Branca, apricot liqueur, and lime juice. Shake in a whip-cracking motion.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with the lime whip. Oh, I mean twist.
Hey, I’m gonna come right out and admit two things: first, I tend to think most “flavored” rums (or other pre-flavored spirits) taste as if some chemicals had mated with some sleazy grains and had a bottle as their baby; second, I recently received the bottle of Cruzan 9 Spiced Rum used in the below recipe via the US post. With that said, I’m going to come right out and admit another thing: I’d like the new Cruzan 9 Spiced Rum even if I didn’t get it for free. It had a clean taste, with strong vanilla overtones backed by hints of cinnamon, nutmeg, and other spices (the full spice line up is listed on the bottle as: vanilla, nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, mace, allspice, pepper, and juniper berry). I tend to like the Cruzan line up of rums for mixing (not unilaterally or anything, but they’re reliable), so it makes sense that they could put together a tasty spiced rum. Okay, on to the Bubbly Colonial:
After deciding that the Cruzan 9 Spiced wasn’t going to make me feel ooky, I started to think about what to make with it (a naturally progression). Recently (the day before, honestly), I’d made some lime-mint simple syrup, and that seemed like it should go well with the rum, as there are loads of precedence for these island flavors getting along. So, that was the start. I wanted something bubbly, as it was a rare sunny Seattle day and I figured I should take advantage of it by pretending I lived somewhere where summer means something, temperature-wise. So, tall, rummy, bubbly, all good. Then I decided a hint of orange might be nice, so I added a smidge of Cointreau. The combination ended up being mighty fine, with lots of spice hints (including a touch of coconut–I’m not sure where it came from? Island magic, perhaps?) and citrus tang. Oh, I added a full lime wheel as a garnish. That extra fresh juice brought a ton to the table.
Ice cubes
2 ounces Cruzan 9 Spiced Rum
1/2 ounce lime-mint simple syrup (see Note below)
1/4 ounce Cointreau
Chilled club soda
Lime wheel, for garnish
1. Fill a highball glass halfway full with ice cubes. Add the rum, syrup, and Cointreau. Stir thrice.
2. Fill the glass almost to the rim with club soda. Stir again, slowly but seriously, working to bring everything together. Squeeze the lime wheel into the glass, and then drop it in.
A Note: To make the lime-mint simple syrup, I added two whole lime peels, 4 ounces freshly squeezed lime juice, 3 cups sugar, 2-1/2 cups water, and 2 cups fresh mint to a medium-sized sauce pan, which I then put on the stove over medium-high heat. Let it just come to a boil, simmer for five or so minutes, and then let everything steep in the pan for at least an hour. Strain and use to your heart’s content.
Farmer’s is not, sadly, a new Seattle hotspot serving Fish House Punch (that classic punch from Philly via the Schuylkill Fishing Company sometime in the 1700s). It is, however, my pal Shane Farmer’s house, where he recently when punch crazy for his house-warming/birthday bash, purchasing two punch bowls (yes, I said two) for the occasion so he could serve not only this mix but the delightful Don’t Just Stand There (a recipe for which can be found in Good Spirits). Now that, friends, is a fella that knows how to throw a party. If you ever run into him at the bar (any bar, that is) I’d go about picking his brain for party tips (not literally “picking his brain” by the way, if there were any mad scientists thinking they’d actually pry open his skull for said tips. Just ask him why dontcha?). This recipe’s from Dark Spirits, by the way. And this photo was taken at the actual referenced Shane Farmer party above, by the way:
Serves 10
Block of ice (or cracked ice, if necessary)
1 750-milliliter bottle dark rum
15 ounces Cognac
7-1/2 ounces peach brandy
7-1/2 ounces freshly-squeezed lemon juice
7-1/2 ounces Simple Syrup
1. Add the ice to a punch bowl (fill about three quarters full if using cracked ice, and feel free to crack the block a bit if needed). Add the rum, cognac, brandy, juice, and syrup. Stir 10 times, while humming fishy songs or hymns to Pennsylvania.
2. Stir 10 more times. Serve in punch cups or wine glasses.
The poor, misunderstood, little-referred-to cousin of the popular, always-invited-to-the-dance, Sazerac, the Zazarac rarely rears its head on party menus these days (alas, poor drink). But it’s worthy of taking out for a drive (and now I’ve managed a whole host of messy metaphors—in just two sentences!), even if it has a bit of kitchen-sink-ness to it thanks to its full ingredient list. It has somewhat of a kick, mind you, so watch your wobbliness when consuming it. It isn’t, honestly, good to take for a drive, for instance. Unless you have one of those beds shaped like a car.
Ice cubes
1-1/2 ounces rye
3/4 ounce white rum
3/4 ounce anisette
3/4 ounce Simple Syrup
1/2 ounce absinthe
1 dash Angostura bitters
1 dash orange bitters
Lemon twist, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the rye, rum, anisette, syrup, absinthe, and both bitters. Shake well (it’s okay to be aggressive about it, the cocktail likes it).
2. Strain into a large cocktail glass. Garnish with that orange twist.
A Note: This was originally made with gum, or gomme, syrup. Intrigued? See the recipe for the King Cole in Dark Spirits (where the above Zazarac recipe is also from) and learn more about this gum syrup. Or just buy David Wondrich’s Imbibe for gosh sakes.
Promised Bonus Quote (which goes so well with the Zazarac I think):
One minute she’s a blackmailer, cagey as Kruschev, and the next she wants to gambol half-naked on a pile of sawdust like a babe on an absinthe jag.
First, an apology for the lack of posting. Moving back to Seattle from the I-tal has been a process, and has left me with little umph for blogging. Or, after reading (re-reading really, as I’ve read it at least once, and probably twice, before) Graham Greene’s somewhat funny/somewhat serious Cuban spy-and-not novel Our Man in Havana, I’ve been too inclined to have a daiquiri at noon for blogging. I like that take on things much better, so let’s go with that excuse, and start a rumor of me being a two-daiquiris-at-noon fella. Heck, maybe I’ll even inspire you to start. If I don’t, hopefully this quote does (or starts you collecting miniature bottles of whiskies):
‘Eighteen different kinds of scotch,’ the stranger said, ‘including Black Label. And I haven’t counted the Bourbons. It’s a wonderful sight. Wonderful,’ he repeated, lowering his voice with respect. ‘Have you ever seen so many whiskies?’
‘As a matter of fact I have. I collect miniatures and I have ninety-nice at home.’
‘Interesting. And what’s your choice today? A dimpled Haig?’
Picked up some dark rum not too long back (at Domini, the best winery in central Italy, funny enough–Diego, the owner and swell fella, is nice enough to stock some other, non-wine, bottles as well) and it lead to me craving a cocktail that had more of an island, and a little less of an Italian feel, but as this was made while living in Italy, and features an Italian tamarind syrup (though really, it’s thicker than a regular syrup—almost molasses-y) by Carlo Erba (a Milan company), I still consider it an Italian drink. Hence the name, which hits both sides of the drink:
Ice cubes
1-1/2 ounces dark rum
3/4 ounce pineapple juice
1/2 ounce freshly squeeze lime juice
1/2 Carlo Erba Tamarindo
Lime slice for garnish
Pineapple slice for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the rum, juices, and tamarind. Shake exceptionally well (that tamarind needs a bit of serious shaking to play nice).
2. Strain into a cocktail glass, or whatever good glass is nearby. Garnish with the lime slice and pineapple slice (both to add flavor and in case you need a snack).
As our producer and director owns stock in the BBC, our “season” lasts a mere six episodes (much like the Snuff Box). Which means (grab those hankies now) this is the last episode in this new season. And, if I can preen the feathers a bit, it’s a humdinger. In this finale, I’ll not only sing and dance (really!), I’ll also teach you to make the somewhat sultry Bedroom Eyes, a fine number that puts I think I delicious cocktail capper on another season of the show about cocktails and drinking and good times, the Good Spirits Cocktail to Cocktail Hour. But wait! Before clicking on the “play” button and icing up the shaker though, I must take another moment to thank our sponsors in writing (it’s a contractual thing—hey, every little helps). So, raise your glasses in a cheer for Holt’s Hangover Helpers, Fuller’s Homemade Liqueurs, Cash and Harley’s Fund for Young Bartenders, Butler’s House of Garnishes. And of course, raise another glass in a cheer for yourself, our viewers. Without you, well, we’d have to drink more ourselves.
I’m going to skip the preamble for this post (you can catch that in Alexis Soyer Cocktail Talk I and Alexis Soyer Cocktail Talk II) and get right the quotes, which are again taken from the superb Soyer bio Relish by Ruth Cowen. These quotes are again showing why Soyer fits on a cocktail and drinks blog (even though he’d probably be more associated with the culinary arts as opposed to the cocktail arts. Though really, they go together so nicely). And the first one uses the phrase “oesophagus burners,” which is a phrase I’d like to see back in circulation.
