Some sad days, you look at your liqueur shelves and can’t find a thing to drink. Sometimes, this drives you to trying some new liqueurs or spirits. Sometimes, it sends you to searching other shelves and you end up trapped in a cabinet. When you find a stash of cardamom seeds in the corner of said cabinet then you end up making a cardamom liqueur (this has happened to you, right? It’s not just me. Tell me it’s not just me). When the cardamom liqueur actually turns out to be pretty darn intriguing and not bad in taste, it makes all that time trapped in cabinets worthwhile. Especially if you have a pal who then makes a good drink with the liqueur. But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, the cardamom liqueur. I call it Stella di Cardamomo, which speaks to me missing Italy and being oh so fancy. In the bottle, if looking really really closely and squinting, it looks like this:
The taste was and is (I haven’t had every last drop—yet) a bit flowery and with tons of aroma and hints of citrus, but with a kick at the end. Somewhat like one of those early days of spring that end with chilly temperatures when you’ve worn a shorts and a t-shirt combo. But you aren’t too cold cause you have someone to cuddle with. Like that. If you enjoy that sensation, and like cardamom (and let’s hope you do), then the recipe goes like this:
1/4 cup cardamom pods
1/4 teaspoon fennel seeds
2 full orange peels (so, the peels from two oranges, with as little pith as possible)
3 cups vodka
11-1/2 ounces agave syrup
1. Using a mortar and pestle, slightly bash up the cardamom and the fennel. Then add them to a large glass container that has a secure lid.
2. Add the orange peels to the container, and knock them around (just a smidge) with the cardamom and fennel.
3. Add the vodka to the container, give it a swirl or two, and then seal and place in a place that’s away from the sun. Let it sit two weeks, swirling occasionally.
4. Add the agave syrup to the container (by the by, agave is healthy. So, this has now become a healthy drink), stir, seal, and place back wherever it was before. Let sit two week, swirling occasionally.
5. Strain through cheesecloth, at least twice—until it’s clear. Store in a nice bottle and use in the Old Mom (which I’m about to talk about).
Now, back to the pal and the drink. So, I gave a little Stella di Cardamomo to my pal Emi (check this past post for a pic of her Raspberry Gin Fizz) and she whipped up an absolutely divine drink with it, a variation of sorts on the classic Old Fashioned. Yeah, I know, artsy, but the liqueur itself is artsy, and bringing the old and new boozes together is a good thing and worth praise. She went about making her new cocktail by testing this and that until she ended with this recipe:
Ice cubes
2 ounces whiskey
1/8 ounce Stella di Cardamomo
1/8 ounce simple syrup
2 dashes Fee Brothers orange bitters
1. Add a few ice cubes to an Old Fashioned or relatable glass. Add the whiskey (not sure which type she used—maybe she’ll let us know in the comments. Though she is quite busy), Stella di Cardamomo, simple syrup, and bitters. Stir well.
Okay, I think that’s how she went about it at least. There may have been a slightly different way about things, but I think that the above instructions would serve you pretty well. You could also shake everything and then strain it over a couple ice cubes, depending on how much time you have and how much exercise you need. But your results may not be quite as lovely as in this picture (also taken by Emi):
And that, adventuresome ones, is a long blog post about both a new liqueur and a new drink. One of the most wonderful things ever, perhaps.
PS: If there are any liqueur companies reading this that now want to make and sell Stella di Cardamomo, please email me now.
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.
Hey whiskey lovers, this little announcement is for you (and for anyone around the W-A who liked to support local distillers. And really, who in the whole state doesn’t? Only the bad people, that’s who). On the 19th of May, those fine folks at the Woodinville Whiskey Company are releasing their “Mash Bill No.9” bourbon at noon on the old fashioned dot. They’re gonna have sandwiches, good cheer, and hopefully some whiskey songs sung in the round. But most of the all, it’s bourbon on a “get it while you can” availability, so, well, get it while you can. If you need more to grab you, you’re probably a bit daffy. But I’m here to help all, so as one final enticement, a quote from owner Brett Carlile (who owns along with Orlin Sorensen): “As we narrowed down our final selection, one had just the right combination of corn, rye and malted barley — and that’s how ‘Mash Bill No. 9’ was born; it was our ninth recipe.” Yeah, boy.
Okay, honesty time. Raise your hand if you’ve had a broken, or even a fairly seriously cracked, heart. You, in the back, without your hand raised? Quit lying, we’re all friends (or at least boon bar companions) here. That’s what I thought. Turns out, even in short story collections from the 1950s, people have broken hearts. Even in mystery short story collections from the ‘50s, such as Murder by 14 (here and there called My Best Murder Story), which is a collection shading pretty seriously to the “want-to-be-Agatha” side of the mystery section (as opposed to the “want-to-be-Dashiell” section—both of which are sections I like). One of the stories that doesn’t shade too much is A Matter of Life and Death by John and Ward Hawkins, which is pretty much one long hangover for the main character, after a night of heartbreak (somewhat mitigated by the inducer of said heartbreak trying to help him out of what looks like a pretty murderous situation). Really, I know little about John and Ward, the authors, but the story was good enough that I’m gonna look for more. And I certainly understand the sentiment and set-up of the below quote, all about bourbon and heartbreak.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I got loaded in the bar across the street from the office. Straight bourbons. I got full of bourbon clean up to here. I rubbed it in my broken heart. I cashed my paycheck. And then I went riding in taxi-cabs. I went pub-crawling. I met this guy–this big guy with the crew hair-cut and the tough face and the little scar on his chin. We were a couple of ex-sergeants and that made us buddies. He bought some drinks and I bought some drinks, and we really pinned one on–the Giant size.’
Another St. Patrick’s day has come and gone (along with another Italian Unification Day, by the way—151 years!), and with it the drinking public at large is shuttling away from ordering drinks that feature Irish whiskey as well as odd green beers. For the latter, let’s be thankful, but for the former, the Irish whiskey, well, it’s a crying shame. I say, order and mix up the good Irish-based drinks year round! Don’t be shy about it. And if you’re not sure what to order, or make yourself, check out this Irish drink blog post I wrote pre-Paddy’s on the Seattle Mag blog. Now you’re ready to venerate that particular Saint Patrick throughout the year.
PS: This post may have been influenced by the Irish whiskey I had recently.
Brrr, it’s cold (if you live in sunny Seattle, pretend with me). And even colder if you live in the arctic regions or happen to be a polar explorer. But have no fear, winter wonderlanders, I have a solution to your freezing problem: the Hot Brick. To test my solution, I’ve just spent six months living in the arctic. And then I filmed my results for the most recent episode of the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour. See below, please, and take off the freeze.
Hello dear readers. For those of you not living in Seattle or visiting in the next few days, feel free to walk away from this post right now (I mean walk away, too—I expect you to leave the computer on with this site up so the drunken elves that live in your house can read this). For those in Seattle, I’m sorry this is a little last minute, but there’s still time to clear your calendar so you can go to the Manhattan Experience contest (sponsored by Woodford Reserve bourbon and Esquire Magazine) this Monday, November 7th, at the Columbia Tower Club’s Columbia Room at 701 Fifth Avenue, downtown Seattle. You do have to register first (though it’s free!) at www.wellcraftedmanhattan.com. They’ll be a host of local and local-ish (all from in-state, mind you, if not in city) bartenders (well, a small host of six I think) making their updated takes on the mighty Manhattan. Does the Manhattan need an updated take? No. But, is it nice to have a bunch of drinks made in the spirit of the Manhattan? Yes. And is it even more fun if I get to judge which one is best? Double yes. And yes, I am one of the judges, which means I’ll get to spout off to someone about why the Manhattan is the Dark Knight of drinks, and my whole DC-cosmology-into-drinks theory. Which is always nice. But it’ll be nice if you’re there. So, come on by. But leave the drunken elves at home.
PS: The Manhattan photo above, which is the best Manhattan photo ever, was taken by Melissa Punch for Good Spirits. Which, if you don’t have, you should have.
As the temperature here in Seattle is coaxing its way down into downright chilly, I’ve been writing about switching into the darker, warming-er, drinks. Or, I just wrote about one of my regular fall/winter drinks, the Bobby Burns, for the always-good-to-read Good Life Report. You, actually, should go read my article right now, and learn how to make this Scotch, sweet vermouth, Benedictine combo cocktail, and learn a bit more about the poet Robert Burns, and learn a stitch of a poem of his about whisky, a poem excerpt you might want to read when having the drink, and also learn about a cigar salesman. That sounds like a lot of learning, but really, it’s painless (and tasty). So get going, and go read my Fall Poetics and the Bobby Burns cocktail article.
