It’s weird, but I don’t think I’ve had a Cocktail Talk post featuring a quote or quotes from a Donald E. Westlake book. Or, I just can’t track one down. Or maybe it’s not so weird — I haven’t read a ton of Westlake, but it feels like I’ve enjoyed enough books here and there. And now I’m meandering. Bank Shot is a caper book, one of like 100 books by Westlake (oh, he also wrote the screenplay for The Grifters, which is rad), and probably the only book where the not-always-so-smooth criminals rob a bank by actually stealing the whole bank building. It also was the basis for a movie. They also do a lot of their planning in the back of a bar, which is if not the safest at least the most congenial spot I can think of to plan a robbery. And you can have a drink while planning. They drink a fair amount in Bank Shot, too, and now I have drawn everything full circle, which means it’s time for the quotes:
Victor said, “I’m drinking tonight.” He sounded very pleased. Dortmunder ducked his head a little more and looked at Victor under his fingers. He was smiling, of course, and holding up a tall glass. It was pink. Dortmunder said, “Oh, yeah?” “A slow-gin fizz,” Victor said.
He had planned his menu with the greatest of care. The cocktails to begin had been Negronis, the power of the gin obscured by the gentleness of vermouth and Campari.
It’s hard, in a way, to talk about flowers in November. At least in Seattle (where I reside except on those days when I’m traveling the world, spreading the gospel of good drinks, good cheer, and good spirits) where the flowers have taken a vacation. Seems they don’t like the rain. Which means it’s an absolutely fabulous time to have a drink that is flowering, like this one. See, it combines St-Germain elderflower liqueur with Pierre Ferrand Cognac. Flower + grape. Flowering Grape! Get it? And now you see another reason why these are so tasty in dreary ol’ fall. You can have a bunch of them and not feel weighed down at all.
Well, wouldn’t you know it—even James Bond gets older. It seems his first film came out about 50 years ago. What does this have to do with anything outside of giving me a chance to make the point that Sean Connery is the finest James Bond and anyone who disagrees is a ninny? Well, it also leads to the fact that the lovely French aperitif wine-thing Lillet figures into the Bond mythos. Which also then leads to a little Lillet article I have in the most recent Good Life Report, which also has an article about Bond. And now it’s all tied up in a mystery even Timothy Dalton could solve (I kid, I kid. Dalton is aces with me).
For many moons, our country has been deficient. I’m not sure what we did, exactly (though I can guess—thank you very much Kermit the Frog), but for years we irritated the find people of Sweden. This led to many sad things: a lack of tall blonds, a distinct problem with meatballs, and, most tragically, the complete absence of Swedish Punsch in every single bar from east to west. Swedish Punsch once was a staple of bar shelves and cocktails and home liquor cabinets. With a base of the sugar-cane based spirit Batavia Arrack combined with other flavorings, it had a taste all its own and a devoted following (I’m sort-of guessing on this last point, as most who had it when it was available way back when are sadly now at that big bar in the afterlife). And then some time after Prohibition it vanished. Why! Why! Why!
Well, I certainly don’t know. But, the main point, and what’s causing me to not shake my fist at the sky, is that it’s back and you should become a fan. I’ve recently been dipping into a bottle of Kronan Swedish Punsch and it’s darn delicious. It boasts a seriously yummy toffee-molasses-and-spice taste, with some smokiness smudged in for good measure. The story is that in Sweden it’s had warm with pea soup. Hmm, sounds great (please, everyone agree—we don’t want to irritate the Swedes again). It’s also great in cocktails, including one called the Astor that I found first in the rightly revered Old Waldorf Astoria Bar Book by Albert Crockett. Try it whydontcha.
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.
There are times the cover sells me on purchasing a pulp-y pocket-y book (many past Cocktail Talk posts are evidence of such). And then other times when it’s the title. Or, the description on the back cover. Death for a Hussy (by Alywin Lee Martin) has all three. The cover pic is to the left. The title, well, I just mentioned it. And the first line of the description on the back cover reads, “She was very young, very beautiful and . . . very dead!” Now that combination had me hook, line, and sinker. Not a bad little read, really. And it contained the following boozy quote, too:
“I’m one of the bartenders,” he said. “Me helper comes on at ten o’clock. The joint begins jumping then. Whata ya drinkin’?”
“Scotch with a little soda.”
Jocko mixed the drink and put it down in front of Hughes. “Haig and Haig. The real McCoy—outuva an honest-to-God pinch bottle.”
“Have one with me,” Hughes invited.
Jocko pour a tumbler half full of Haig and Haig and threw the whiskey into his mouth. The glass didn’t even touch his lips.
This is quite a continental moment here on the Spiked Punch. First, tonight, like I usually do on the continent, I ate too much. Then, to combat my over-indulging, I had a healthy dose of Elisir di Salvia, a digestif I made from a recipe taken out of a simply-named book, Tisane, Liquori and Grappe. I have no idea who it’s by, but it’s from the Demera Company and is Italian (which means I translated the recipe. Yeah, I do everything for you. But you deserve it). I picked it up in a little tucked away bookstore in Sansepolcro’s historic center, called Arca Dei Libri. Nice place, really. Only blocks from the can’t-miss-it restaurant Fiorintino. Anywho, Elisir di Salvia is a curious mix of stuff, and the taste reflects it: herb and spice sweetness at the beginning, mellowing Marsala middle, totally different backend flavor and kick. At first, I wasn’t sold, but now I think it’s a weird kind of genius drink. And yes, I felt better after having it after eating too much. Oh, when in the jar cooling its heels, it looks like this:
Elisir di Salvia
1 liter Marsala
1 cup fresh sage leaves
1 orange rind
2 cups high proof vodka or grain alcohol
1/2 cup warm water
1.6 cups sugar
1. Add the Marsala, sage, and orange to an airtight glass container airtight. Let sit for 10 days to two weeks. Shake at least once a day.
2. Dissolve the sugar in the water to make a syrup, let cool, and then add it and the vodka.
3. After 24 hours of rest (or a week, if you’re lazy like me), filter and transfer to a glass bottle. Take 1 shot from the liqueur in all cases of difficult digestion.
Well, it’s been an interesting season for the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour (in the “may you live in interesting times” fashion). With my much-publicized addiction to velvet jackets becoming public, with director, cameraman, writer, and producer Dr. Gonzo’s less-publicized adventures “down south,” and with us drinking away our sponsorship dollars, the year has spun past. And now here we are, the last episode. But what an episode it is, as we solve one of the most-debated cocktail mysteries: where did The Rusty Nail come from and why isn’t it consumed as much today as in 1952? To help us, we have a very special guest, E.P. Gooks* (or, Goose. It gets confusing), a first-rate historian who we did not pay to come on the show. Watch and learn dear ones, and be ready for the next season—it’s gonna be a doozy.**
* Any resemblance to the long-time Cocktail to Cocktail Hour favorite poet Ed Skoog is purely coincidental. All academics look alike.
**This is no way means we’re legally obligated to have another season, much less a doozy season.
It’s weird, but I don’t think I’ve had a Cocktail Talk post featuring a quote or quotes from a Donald E. Westlake book. Or, I just can’t track one down. Or maybe it’s not so weird — I haven’t read a ton of Westlake, but it feels like I’ve enjoyed enough books here and there. And now I’m meandering. Bank Shot is a caper book, one of like 100 books by Westlake (oh, he also wrote the screenplay for The Grifters, which is rad), and probably the only book where the not-always-so-smooth criminals rob a bank by actually stealing the whole bank building. It also was the basis for a movie. They also do a lot of their planning in the back of a bar, which is if not the safest at least the most congenial spot I can think of to plan a robbery. And you can have a drink while planning. They drink a fair amount in Bank Shot, too, and now I have drawn everything full circle, which means it’s time for the quotes:
