I love old pulp novels (the pocket book size especially), with their snazzy (and sometimes silly-ly sexy) covers, mysteries, and generally jazzed up writing. Not to mention that the characters within tend to drink lots and the reading tends to be roll quickly and be perfect when accompanied by a drink–if it’s a drink that’s in the book, even better.
Maybe it’s not a celebrated piece of detective fiction (though the story’s not that bad), but if you can find the book No Business for a Lady, it’s perfect for when you want to match the cocktail you’re having with the cocktail the main character (a feisty redhead with an hourglass figure, of course) is having, because the range of drinks she has is wider than most. As evidence: the three quotes below. So, go pour yourself something and open a book, for gawd’s sake.
Although the doors were wide-open and the temperature was in the nineties outside, it was air conditioned and cool in the dimly lighted interior. I picked out a booth and sat down, and when the waiter came I ordered a Gin Rickey.
And just to prove to him that I knew how to take care of the whips and jingles, I built a couple of Ramos Fizzes.
My stomach was still queasy so I went to the bar downstairs and mixed myself a Gin Fizz.
I was looking through my library (which isn’t like the booze Library of Alexandria or something, but which is an agreeable little stack of books about drinks, drinking, and more drinking) the other night for recipes for the Betsy Ross, because my pal Andrew had asked about it (for his new bar, which I talked about below. Really, this is turning into the Andrew Bohrer admiration society). Anywho, the flag-making patriot-in-liquid form as far as I found goes back to 1941 (and by the way, history buffs, I’m not saying I made a complete search of every known record and microfilm and microfiche, but just that I looked through the books in the above mentioned library), to a recipe in one of my favorites, the jolly Crosby Gaige’s Cocktail Guide and Ladies Companion. Which was published in 1941, as you might have surmised. Now, this is a winding road way of getting here, but while tracking down the info, I re-noticed another drink, across the page from Betsy Ross, a drink with the enticing and intriguing name, “Mrs. Solomon Wears Slacks.” Which is one of the top twenty-five drink names. Or, at least, that’s what I’m saying today. In honor of Mr. Gaige’s (or whomever’s) naming prowess, I made the mix, a brandy-based affair, and it was pretty swell. I even sugared the Champagne flute’s rim, as suggested, getting sweetly jiggy with it. I mussed around with the Slacks some (gawd, that’s fun to say), but the basic ingredients stayed the same (I went a snitch higher on curaçao and bitters, and brandy for that matter). I suggest serving it up at those affairs where slacks are worn, or anytime you want to be a bit daring (which slacks were in 1941. And that’s how I’m wearing it).
Ice cubes
Super-fine sugar
2 ounces brandy
1/2 ounce orange curaçao
3 dashes Angostura bitters
Lemon twist
1. Put a good helping of sugar (but not a mound or anything) on a saucer. Wet the outside rim of a Champagne flute (I used a lemon slice, but you could also rotate it through water on a saucer–just don’t get any water in the glass). Carefully rotate the outside rim of the glass through the sugar–but you don’t want to get any sugar on the inside. No, no, not a grain. So, be careful.
2. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with ice cubes. Add the brandy, curaçao, and bitters. Stir well.
3. Strain the mix into the flute. Garnish with the lemon twist (making sure now, that you get that swoosh of lemon oils from the twist into the drink and not into the atmosphere at large). Now, dance!
Though the actual opening day of new Bellevue hotspot (well, soon to be. And I mean “hotspot” in the good way, and not the overly ironic condescending way that I might use it usually) Chantanee is today, I was lucky enough to be able to slip in last weekend, to check out the bar set up by bar manager, WSBG officer, pal, and Cask Strength blog writer Andrew (that’s Andrew Bohrer, by the way, and not Andrew Friedman, Liberty Bar owner, WSBG officer, pal, and Alchohology blog writer, though admittedly it does get confusing having them both here in Seattle. It’s a nice confusingness, since they’re nice fellas, but I’ve started thinking they need nicknames to differentiate them more easily, like big Andrew and little Andrew, but that seems a bit, derogatory, somehow, and so I think I’m going to start calling them “Bohrer!” and “Friedman!” loudly, in a Sgt Schultz kind of accent). And, I must say, I was darn impressed by the set up, and overwhelmed by the in-depth and tasty amount of booze and accoutrements. I think they have like 10 choices or more each of rye, bourbon, and gin, enough liqueurs to have a hot-tub party in, and lots of bitters, tinctures, and more. Fun stuff indeed. I suggest, even if you have a Bellevue aversion (I’m speaking to those Seattleites who don’t travel well, or are afraid of water, or what-have-you), that you get off the couch and make your merry way out to test the drinks your-own-self, and soon, because not only is the bottle line up worth bowing too, the drink menu is also swell, with a balance of classic and new cocktails (though the full drink menu may not be in effect quite yet). I took a couple quick pics (and was lucky enough to be having the preview with the always fun DrinkBoy Robert Hess as well as the affable Amanda, one of the Naga bartenders), so you can get the feel of the place, and be tempted–and jealous.
Here’s a view of the whole bar, with all those bottles whispering “drink me, drink me,” and of Mr. Hess taking a picture of the bar. As I take a picture of him. Whoa, that’s sorta deep:
Here’s the drink Andrew whipped up for me, a Cat’s Pajamas (notice the ice ball, which was a very cool touch. Also, notice the way I used “cool” both to denote style and temperature):
And here’s Andrew (a bit blurry, but hey, I was drinking and snapping all at once), enjoying the bar manager’s prerogative (which in this case was a Manhattan accented by homemade brandy’d cherries):
Cut the clamoring–I know I sloshed it up about Kingsley Amis just down the page, but I wanted to get another quote in quick, before I forget (hey, I’m getting older by the day. Just like you by the way). The following is from the second part of Everyday Drinking, called, strangely, “Every Day Drinking,” which is a collection of columns Mr. Amis wrote for some London newspaper I haven’t yet tracked down, cause I was too busy writing this. Each column is shortish and on a different subject, making them brilliant bus reads (not as brilliant as a Herbie the Fat Fury comic, but darn close). The following quote’s near to my heart cause it’s about Campari, which I love, and about drinks using it–drinks I also love, if I may be so bold:
Next in line comes Campari, which as everyone knows has made an immense impression on the British market in the last twenty years or so. Not my cup of tea, alas. But, hurray, an acceptable drink can be cobbled together from this and another innocuous potation. Take two parts Italian vermouth and one part Campari (or in another recipe, one of each), mix them with ice and add Pellegrino or soda water and a slice of orange, and you have an Americano. Good at lunchtime, and before Italian food.
If you feel that, pleasant as it is, it still lack something, throw in a shot of gin and the result is a Negroni. This is a really fine invention. It has the power, rare with drinks and indeed with anything else, of cheering you up. This may be down to the Campari, said by its fans to have great restorative powers.
Okay, this video (directed by my pal Dr. Gonzo and posted via the fine fine folks at How2Heroes) for the Rory cocktail is a bit old, but dang, I’ve been busy. Cleaning up after this drink’s namesake mostly. Which leads to why I’m posting this now, in a round-the-tree-kind-of-a-way, because I feel awful that I haven’t posted a picture of our awfully cute new(ish) puppy, Rory, yet, who if you didn’t pick it up in the earlier sentence, this drink was named after. He’s an awesome little fella (though people seem to be taking issue with my calling him “little” as he’s pretty tall already), and loves to go over and lick the bottles nearest to the ground on the liquor shelves (gawd bless him–he fits in the family). But here, check him out your-own-self:
To make the drink (which is a delish after-dinner treat, and would be good on Valentine’s Day as well) you will have to whip up some Chocolate Cream Liqueur, but that’s not much more that the flick of a blender’s “on” switch (here’s a video to tell you how to make it). And the results are going to make you bark–in a very happy way (I would have said “purr” but hey, I ain’t a cat person. Or, well, at least, don’t have cats. But have nothing against cats. But like dogs better. Oh, forget about it and watch the video).
There are good drink writers, and then there’s Kingsley Amis. Okay, that’s oversimplifying, but if I underline “writers” above I may take some of the oversimplification out of the equation (of course, that’s like saying I’m taking the buttermint out of the Drowsy Chaperone–probably doesn’t make much sense to any right minded sort). Mr. Amis (sadly departed, meaning I’ll never get to have that drink with him I’d like to have had. Though reading him while drinking at least gets us cocktail communing on some level) might not always have the, umm, intense bartenderly craft approach that some do, as he’s focused mostly on drinking at home, and also didn’t have the reach of ingredients as we do now (and in addition because a lot of pomp probably didn’t stir his drink), but the writing reaches such a fun, engaging, and just damn good height that I find myself forgetting I’m on the bus when reading it on the bus. And laughing out loud lots, and thinking I could take almost every sentence (or, if not every sentence, every other one) and pull it out for a quote that each drinker I know must read. Which means I’ll probably have more from him up on the site, which means you can think of this particular quote as the opening liquid salvo before a long night’s imbibing. This is from the first book in his drinking triptych (all three of which are collected in Everyday Drinking), On Drink, from the beginning of the chapter entitled, “The Boozing Man’s Diet:”
The first, indeed the only, requirement of a diet is that it should lose you weight without reducing your alcoholic intake by the smallest degree. Well, and it should be simple: no charts, tables, menus, recipes. None of those pages of fusspottery which normally end–end, after you have wasted minutes ploughing your way through–“and, of course, no alcohol” in tones of fatuous apology for laying tongue to something so pikestaff-plain. Of course? No alcohol? What kind of people do they think we are?
It’s Friday again (heck yeah!), and while I may be a little older this week (or, at least, have passed another birthday milestone) that doesn’t mean I’m any less bubbly at the thought of sipping the following three drinks from sweet sites that reside within what I like the call the Drinker’s Blogosphere. If you like to drink (and I know you do) then I suggest you spend some time with the following cocktails. And if you like to read (and I hope you do), I suggest checking out Alcohology’sA Lesson in Absinthe while you sip the first drink. It’s filled with good info, much of which is from the awesome absinthe afternoon the WSBG put on recently.
Jasper’s Jamaican: This recipe is actually on the Serious Eats site, but is written up by Cocktail Chronicler Paul Clarke himself, and can take you away tropically from all the unfriendly weather lurking outside your window (well, it’s lurking outside mine at least).
Maple Leaf Rum Variation: Be reminded that it’s good to drink local when at all possible, and be reminder also that it’s good to read everything the Ladies of LUPEC Boston write about, because you’ll always find tasty recipes like this one when you do (and, of course, also find good and fun facts and frolicking).
St. Croix Crusta: In an informative and tasty entry (which is a bit older, but so worthy of your time) the Small Hand Bartender not only teaches you how to make your own Orchard Syrup (an older ingredient somewhat sadly lost to history) but also the St. Croix Crusta, which uses said syrup deliciously.
Get ready for some Valentine’s Day hugging, kissing, and drinking (you don’t really want to have a Valentine over for a little romance without the right drink, right? I mean, you aren’t that caddish, are you? And, speaking of “caddish” is that a phrase that applies to both ladies and gentlemen? Or is a “cad” only a dude? Cause I in no way want to imply that not serving a good drink on Valentine’s Day is okay if you’re female. It’s bad no matter what. So, put that in your shaker and shake it) with this lovely mix (from Good Spirits, if you wanna relay a little information to your amorous other when serving up the cocktail). I used Washington State’s own Dry Fly gin when making it, and liked it lots, and also suggest using Tillen Farms Merry Maraschino cherries (from good ol’ WA as well), which are yummy and clean, sweetened with pure cane sugar instead of goopy high fructose junk, and which don’t contain artificial dross. Which of course you don’t want to serve up alongside the kisses. That’s just gross.
Ice cubes
1 1/2 ounce gin
3/4 ounce sweet vermouth
3/4 ounce maraschino liqueur
1/2 ounce simple syrup
Maraschino cherry for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the gin, sweet vermouth, and maraschino liqueur, and simple syrup. Shake well.
2. Add the cherry to a cocktail glass or pretty cordial. Strain the mix into the glass.
I love old pulp novels (the pocket book size especially), with their snazzy (and sometimes silly-ly sexy) covers, mysteries, and generally jazzed up writing. Not to mention that the characters within tend to drink lots and the reading tends to be roll quickly and be perfect when accompanied by a drink–if it’s a drink that’s in the book, even better. 
