Hello students of the cocktail, and welcome to another episode of the finest series on cocktails, drinking, and good times ever: The Cocktail to Cocktail Hour. In this episode, our favorite foreigner, Alastair Edwards, is back with another drinking problem, one I solve with the help of the Trilby Cocktail, a bit of an undiscovered treasure featuring Broker’s gin, Dolin dry vermouth, and crème Yvette.
PS: Special thanks to Natalie Fuller, Jeremy Holt, Beatrice Holt, Markie Butler – perhaps the finest actors this side of Stratford, and the wizardry of director Dr. Gonzo.
Sometimes, a drink name says it all. In this case: Perfect. Does that mean I think this is the perfect cocktail, always and for every situation and second? Nah. But I do think it carries a kind of perfection, and for those days when you feel neither 100% sweet or dry, it certainly matches the mood. For those reasons, and during those seasons, sure, this one’s vermouth balance does indeed equal the name: Perfect.
A week ago today, I put up a Friday night drink called the Portofino, which was a drink I made for my mother’s 75th birthday party. One of the other drinks (there were three) was the Marguerite. As mentioned in that earlier post, I was slightly angling the drinks the Italian way, and the Italian connection here is anisette – specifically Meletti anisette, which is one of the finest sippers I know. I blogged more about it on a specific Meletti post, so go catch up if you missed it. Then, when back, make this drink. It has an interesting balance, as it’s equal parts gin and vermouth, but the end result is awfully wonderful (oh, the recipe is from Ginger Bliss and the Violet Fizz, if you wondered).
The Marguerite
Cracked ice
1-1/4 ounces gin
1-1/4 ounces dry vermouth
1/4 ounce anisette
Thin lemon slice for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the gin, vermouth, and anisette. Stir well.
2. Strain the mix into a cocktail glass or comparable glass
3. Give the lemon slice a small squeeze over the glass then drop it in.
One of my favorite old-timey books of cocktails and drinks is called Crosby Gaige’s Cocktail Guide and Ladies Companion. It’s by Crosby Gaige (hah!), who was a bon vivant about town in the early-to-mid part of last century. The book is a gas, as well as having bunches of good recipes. Recently, I tapped into it when I wasn’t sure what I wanted to imbibe, and found a fine recipe called Ants in the Pants, in The Old Gin Mill section – which makes sense, cause I wanted some gin. There was one wrinkle, however. The recipe called for Grand Marnier, which I was somehow out of (quick, Grand Marnier people, send me a bottle. Oops, too slow). Which led to me subbing in Pierre Ferrand orange curaçao, which yeah, I know is different, but it’s so so so good. And you know what? The drink ended up delicious, and I think Mr. Gaige himself would have approved. Oh, the change did make me alter the title, as you can see if you can read, and why would you be here if you couldn’t? Because where I come from, drinks have individual names, like people. And individual gins, which here should be Alpinist Gin, from the Seattle Distilling Company, if you can find it. It’s got the juniper hopping, but also has some other herbally and botanical goodness that adds a lot to the drink.
Sometimes, you can’t improve on genius. You can try, sure, but, well, you’ll fail. Which is why instead of writing some new post about the Trocadero, I’m just going to quote myself, from Ginger Bliss and the Violet Fizz:
We think often of dry and sweet vermouth of being like Muhammed Ali and Joe Frazier fighting it relentlessly in Zaire, or like two large dogs gnawing on one big bone in the backyard (the bone here would equal a bar, if you don’t mind following a thinly stretched metaphor). This train of thought though, is out of wack. We should think of the vermouths more like A.J. and Rick Simon, brother detectives who are very different in style, dress, and tone of voice, but working together to solve a crime (the crime here is, as you might guess, the crime of a bad drink).
The Trocadero
Cracked ice
1-1/2 ounce dry vermouth
1-1/2 ounce sweet vermouth
1 dash orange bitters
1/4 ounce grenadine (I suggest making your own – there’s a recipe in the book by the by)
Lemon twist for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the vermouths at the same time to show no favoritism, and then the bitters and the grenadine. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the lemon twist.
PS: Sure, I just called my own writing genius. But I was being silly, silly.
The newest episode of the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour is here, and this time, we’ve gone international with another Everyday Drinking segment, where I solve the drinking problem of an everyday person. But this time, that everyday person is someone who has come all the way from the United Kingdom! Amazing, isn’t it? A fine British gentleman by the name of Alastair Edwards (really!) is the star of this episode, where I teach him how to make the Sweetie-Pie cocktail from Good Spirits, so he can delight his American gal pal with it. There are also many hijinks, of course, as we wade into the waters of American/British differences and erupting hats – over drinks.
I’m not sure if it’s January’s gloom (we’re aching for sun here in Seattle – please send us some if you live anywhere it’s sunny. Please), my continually growing love of Scotch, or the fact that I like people with accents, but I’ve been on a bit of a Rob Roy jag lately. And, funny enough, I’ve been having them mainly at the bar that shares the same name (the Rob Roy, in case you’re feeling a bit slow today). But I’ve had a couple at home, too, using the recipe from Dark Spirits. In honor of that book-I-wrote, I wanna actually quote from it, because I’m self-referential sure, but mainly because I can’t believe the fine folks at Harvard Common Press let me get away with having this in a headnote:
Remember what Fandral said in the Marvel Spotlight on Warriors Three (Marvel Spotlight Issue 30, 1976) to the guy who bugged him when he was drinking a Rob Roy (at least I think he was), “Churl! Hast thou no manners? Never interrupt a man whilst he is drinking!” In the last part of that quote “a Rob Roy” is only implied, but don’t miss the point.
The Rob Roy
Ice cubes
2-1/2 ounces Scotch
1/2 ounce sweet vermouth
2 dashes Angostura bitters
Lemon twist, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the Scotch, vermouth, and bitters. Shake thee well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the lemon twist. Methinks you’ll be happier for it.
A Variation: Wanna take a wee trek away from the Rob Roy? Switch Angostura for orange bitters, and skip to a Highland Cocktail.
Sometimes, I’m a bit lucky (now, I’m not like tootin’ my own horn here or anything. I’m unlucky lots of times, too), and when I come home from the coal mine I work days at I find a package on my doorstep, and sometimes, sometimes that package is filled with bottles from which flow delicious elixirs. Meaning: booze. Recently, in one box that was on the doorstep was a bottle of Hoodoo chicory liqueur. Made in Mississippi at the Cathead distillery (where they also make the mighty fine Cathead vodka, Cathead honeysuckle vodka, and Bristow gin), Hoodoo is a rich mix, not too sweet, and with herbal and coffee notes jumping all around just the tiniest bitter whispers. I’ve always thought of chicory tied up with coffee (and probably remember hearing of it first the first time I went to New Orleans and visited Café Du Monde years and years ago), and so when I started playing around with this liqueur in drinks – which is what I do with a new liqueur, after I taste it – my first thought was to mix it with coffee. But then I started thinking back to when I was growing up in Kansas, and when I’d see farmers in the doughnut shop get coffee then add a splash of bourbon or rye to it. To sort-of invert the ratio (hey, I’m not in Kansas anymore), I decide to try adding a splash of the Hoodoo to a large bit of the brown. To round things out, and to add a few more herbal touches, I added a smaller splash of Carpano Antica. And the Mississippi Morning was born. While it is a dandy drink for the a-m, it also shines at night. And after you’ve gotten up from a nap.
The Mississippi Morning
Cracked ice
2 ounces rye
3/4 ounces Hoodoo liqueur
1/4 ounce Carpano Antica
1. Fill a mixing glass or cocktail shaker halfway full with cracked ice. Add everything. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Drink up.
A Note: Here’s a funny thing: I used Woodinville Whiskey Company rye, which I love. But, currently (but hopefully not forever) Hoodoo isn’t available in Washington State, where I live. So track down some Hoodoo and use the rye of your choice – unless you can track down some Woodinville rye as well. But if that’s the case, you’re some sort-of jetsetter. And lucky yourself.
