The Four Fists is a story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, which generally retells the narrative (in a few key scenes) of one character’s (Samuel Meredith) life. The scenes, as you might guess from the title, all revolve around times when he was punched in the nose. And then afterwards learned something from said punching that made him a better person. Don’t think I’m advocating violence as a solution here (I’m a drinker, not a fighter), but the quote below seemed to go so well with my fall highball-ish Hour Glass below that it seemed apropos. There are lots of good swilling moments in Mr. Fitzgerald’s stories (those jazz agers and floppers loved the cocktails and bubbly, bless ‘em all), so expect more Cocktail Talk from him later.
“He played football in the autumn, drank highballs in the winter; and rowed in the spring. Samuel despised all those who were merely sportsmen without being gentlemen, or merely gentlemen without being sportsmen.”
All right, all right, I know it may seem strange (not groovy and mystical like Dr. Strange either, but just downright odd) to be sipping a bubbly-cooling-kind-of-a-drink in Seattle’s damp and dreary mid-to-late November, but I’ve been working hard stocking the shelves (virtual shelves surely, but shelves) and shilling the books, not to mention raking the inordinate amount of leaves in my backyard (and, you know what, if Mr. Cherry Tree is reading this, please stop dropping basketfuls of your leaves on the ground the minute I get finished raking said ground. Wait a couple days at least. Give me that, for gosh sakes.), or writing this sentence which will never stop. Anyway, I was feeling the need for a refresher last night, but one that still had an underlying . . . strength of character. I didn’t want to go teeth-rotting sweetness, but did want a hint of sunshine. And, I wanted to be able to name drop a second super hero in one post (Hourman, that is). All of which led me to the Hour Glass:
Ice cubes
1 ounce Cognac
3/4 ounce Cointreau
1/2 ounce absinthe
Chilled club soda
Lemon twist, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the Cognac, Cointreau, and absinthe. Stir well.
2. Fill a highball glass three-quarters full with ice cubes. Strain the mixture over the ice, and then fill the glass with club soda (unless it’s a large-ish highball, then just go up three-quarters of the way).
3. Squeeze the lemon twist over the glass and drop it in.
Okay, I’m a little behind on posting about this (it’s funny to say “I’m a little behind” though, since I do have a fair amount of junk in the trunk. It’s like Bruce Banner saying, “I get a little angry” or something), but a couple weeks ago I had an awesome experience carrying on a cocktail conversation via email at Cookthink (if you haven’t been visiting the Cookthink and you like eating and drinking, you, pal, are missing out). And if a cocktail conversation at a good site wasn’t enough to make me smile like a bartender on payday, the fact that the two people I was conversing with were Greg Boehm, the publisher of CocktailKingdom.com and the bubbly Mud Puddle Books, and Rob Chirico, the author of The Field Guide to Cocktails and writer of Cookthink’s Hair of the Dog column, made me sort-of giddy. We talked about drinks, cocktails, books, modern trends, the word “mixologist,” and a whole bar-load of other subjects any imbiber would be interested in reading more about. So, quit dallying–head on over and dive in to the Cocktails Rising.
Don’t while away your weekend with uninspired cocktails–take a gander at the three options below from the blogosphere and drink the weekend up in happy fashion. And quit saying I never steered you in a positive direction.
White Lady: The recipe is about three-quarters into (so keep reading–not that you’ll wanna stop once you start) an in-depth and worthy post called “Eggy Weggies,” in which Andrew from Cask Strength details why eggs are so darn great in drinks, and why you should be using them more. And I say “amen” to that.
Our Man In Havana: Found on A Mountain of Crushed Ice (which is one of the best blog names ever), down aways in another in-depth and fully worthy post (about Havana Club rums—this must be my Friday for enjoying the in-depth, fun posts), this drink not only boasts an amazing taste, but shares a name with a Graham Greene book I love (the name was suggested by, as the post says, Jeffrey Morgenthaler). That’s kismet y’all.
Brandy Milk Punch: After all the Friday and Saturday effing and jeffing (and I mean that in the best way), it’s nice to have a Sunday morning liquid pal to return to center with, which is what Married with Dinner offers in this dreamy recipe. Wow, I love a good milk punch. If you don’t, then (well, first, I feel for you) just sleep it off until Monday.
Cause I’m a busy little boozer (wait, can I get away with a phrase like that? Or does it imply a cutesy-drunky combo that should never be descended toward? Ah, well, you know how I am), I’m going to have to make my recap of New York drinking a little shorter than the Boston one (which rambled in usual style). But I do want to hit a couple key spots that I stopped at, cocktail’d at, and dug hanging out within. The first was at Tailor, where I meet up for sadly only one drink with HCP stalwart Howard Stelzer and Onion AV Club scribe Andy Battaglia. The drink list there (created by Eben Freeman) is a drinking-adventurer’s earthy dreamscape, as it really is pushing some of the boundaries. The line up was thus: Howard, Butternut & Falernum (rum, butternut squash, falernum); Andy Battaglia: The Waylon (bourbon, smoked Coke); A.J., Nutty Monk (walnut Cognac, Benedictine, bitters). While I loved the inventiveness of the other’s drinks, I thought mine, with just a nutty trace socializing with herbs and Cognac, was the tops.
My second NY drink extravaganza was at Albert Trummer’s Apotheke, where he says “We look at a bargoer almost as if he’s coming to a doctor’s office.” It’s a twisty-turn-y kind of office, as it’s on Doyers Street, a vaguely backalleyish snaking street in lower Chinatown. The old-time-y pharmacist set up, with lots of beakers, and coils, and bartenders in white smocks, and the fact that our amazingly friendly waitress brought us a liquid amuse bouche right after we sat down (it was a cilantro vodka prescription), made me love the atmosphere right away. Well, that and the fact that I was drinking with NY pals Kristine and Andrew. The line up: Kristine, Strawberry Fennel (fennel-infused vodka, strawberries soaked in orange liqueur, fennel oil essence); Andrew, Five Points (House elixir #4 with hibiscus, Italian bitters, grape juice, and sugar-cane infused rum); A.J., Vanilla-Rum Julep (Madagascar infused rum, Israeli mint, house-pressed sugar-cane juice). As you can see, it was an around-the-world hospital visit. Though we were all pretty well stoked about our drinks, they did fall into the florid-fruity-in-a-field-of-flowers side of the taste spectrum, and so I really wanted to hit something a touch umph-ier. But, sadly, they were out of the ingredients for what I thought would be the ticket, the bourbon-based Autumn Harvest–however (this was luck incarnate), they did have the Saigon cinnamon-infused bourbon from it, so Mr. Trummer himself stirred me up a drink with that as a base (not sure exactly what else was in it, but a trace of lime and bitters seemed in play). Now this was a drink I could sink my cocktailing teeth into–a drink that instantly became the favorite of that night’s drinking team. Then, we got to see Mr. Trummer line up a dozen glasses with absinthe and sugar, and light them all on fire (and throw a lot of fire around). The fact that we ended up with a glass of warm and slightly sweet absinthe makes the experience that much finer.
The last (but so far, far from least) place I hit up for cocktails in NY was in Brooklyn, and is called the Weather Up. If anyone reading this is anywhere near Brooklyn right now, I suggest leaving poste haste (or right after you finish reading this) to run, speed, or skip to the Weather Up. You will not, I repeat, not, be sorry. Unless it’s like 4 am, in which case it may be closed. If that’s the teary-eyed state of affairs, just hang out on the block until it opens again. It’ll be worth it, cause the Weather Up is a lovely, tiled, intimate affair (no sign naturally–this seems to be de rigueur), with the real feel of a neighborhood bar that the folks living in the neighborhood want to keep close to their own vests. I can’t blame them. If Weather Up was in my ‘hood (yay! Loyal Heights), I would go there every night and not tell a soul outside of Nat and Sookie. I was drinking there with Michael, Miguel, Mark (whoa, a lot of M’s), and later Leslie and the girl of the future. Since the party got large, I’m not going to go through every drink, but just hit a few select hits. Oh, the whole range of cocktails and highballs and punches (oh my) were hits though (in case you were wondering), and made by bartender Gabe Harrelson, who, for my money, is one of the best bar slingers around. That guy can shake a drink folks. I started with a classic, the Pisco Sour, cause I was feeling like a standby (sometimes you want the refrains you know best, to see how well someone sings them out). It was spot on, with the frothy egg froth not overwhelming, but serious, and the Pisco itself rising and harmonizing with the lemon, egg, and simple syrup. Balanced, engaged, and great. I also had the house-monikered drink, the Weather Up, which I’ve been day-dreaming of ever since, with it’s Michelangeloesque simplicity of purpose and perfect lines: Cognac, amaretto, and lemon–it had a wide twist, interestingly draped over the glass’ rim, so you get a sniff every sip. An inspired, and inspiring, touch. I could have stayed there until dawn folks, if only I didn’t have to get up to catch a flight at 4 am. I sure can’t wait to get back to get back to NY.
PS: Don’t forget to vote. And then have a political drink, like the Ward Eight.
I just returned (well, not too long ago) from a week on the road talking to folks about the new snack and liqueur books (wow, that plug happened so quickly, I almost didn’t realize I was slipping it in there. No, wait, I did, and I’m shameless. But I can admit it, so don’t look down at me too much), and had more tasty drinks while gone than I can even remember. However, I do wanna shine a light on some highlights, as my East Coast drinking tour was rather amazing (there is such an enormous amount of worthy drinking spots and drinkers in Boston and New York, which were my main stops, that I felt embarrassed a bit by all my choices).
My first serious cocktail happened on a Boston Sunday (after spending Saturday evening drinking giant PBRs with Megan at the Pour House, which is also awesome), at Eastern Standard, which I was taken to by my pals (and key Harvard Common Press components) Betsy and Valerie. I’d heard lots and lots about Eastern Standard, about the on target bartenders and drink list, and I wasn’t disappointed in the least. Great open space, cheery wait staff, and the Frisco cocktail I had, which featured a healthy helping of rye tinted and tilted the right shade via the addition of Benedictine and lemon, was absolutely the way for me to start a week of cocktailing. It’s funny that I just wrote a book that has a completely different Frisco cocktail in it (made with apricot brandy, lemon juice, grenadine, and sparkling wine, and a lemon twist), but I think the world is big enough for both, and maybe a few more. I was so happy with the drink at Eastern Standard that I might be willing to change the name of the one in the book at a future printing to “The Bubbly Frisco.”
The next night (after having a little fun with Gene at Fox TV) I enjoyed a treat that I can’t sing loudly enough about (if you could hear me singing right now about it, you would realize how loud that really is. I may not be on pitch, but dang, I can shout), which was getting to go out for delicious drinks with the amazingly friendly and fun ladies of LUPEC Boston. If you don’t know the LUPEC, then take a stroll over to their blog at once–I insist (just come back–even though you may not want to once you’re there). Okay, now that you’re back, I’ll continue. I was with the out-of-sight Pink Lady, Bourbon Belle, and Fancy Brandy, and they took me to a fresh cocktail spot in Boston called DRINK (simple and lovely, isn’t it?), where Misty (founder of LUPEC Boston and cocktail-slinger extraordinaire) was behind the bar helping out Josie, who made us two rounds that any true-blooded cocktail connoisseur (or happy barfly) would have loved. The first was a Fort Point, which contains rye, Punt e’ Mes, and Benedictine, and which was served in a delicately curved glass pitcher, from which she strained the drink into the most rad little cups with roosters on them–leaving the pitcher for refills. As a big fan of the communal drinking, a big fan of the rye, and a big fan of glasses with roosters on them, you can imagine that I rose at that very moment into a cocktail heaven made just for me. Oh, I got so into thinking about the drinks and company that I didn’t describe the bar, which was really interesting. It was three sort-of bar “areas” (somewhat like an “E,” as Pink Lady adroitly pointed out). The first one is the “ice” bar, which hits late 1800s drinks and style with only a big block of ice for chilling. The second is a more early-19th-century style, and has a real herb garden behind the bar and enough fresh juice to keep a whole 1st grade class in vitamin C for a week. The third is more mysterious, and provides a kind of back-up as needed. Visit DRINK in Boston and go home happy, likeably tipsy, and enthralled with the staff.
For our second drink at DRINK, the LUPEC ladies and I went for a slowly stirred and chilled pitched of Hemingway Daiquiri’s that I could go on and on about (how well proportioned they were, and how the tang followed up the slightly tougher “umph” of the Fort Point perfectly, how I think Josie made it with white rum, Maraschino liqueur, lime juice, and a touch of grapefruit juice over some seriously huge pieces of ice), but instead, check out this pic of the finished product (pic taken by Fancy Brandy–thanks a bunch FB):
In closing, here’s a big cheer to Boston and its many fine cocktail spots. Next up: New York.
PS: Tons of thanks tothe brillant store Brix, and the sweet folks there who let me sign books. If you’re in Boston and need wine or some of the best booze that side of the Mississippi, you should stop into Brix.
PSS: I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention also Oleanna, where I had a dinner with Boston ne’er-do-wells Bruce, Howard, and Adam (after going to DRINKS) that was so good, it should have its own epic written about it. Or at least a serious ode.
PPPSSS: If you’re in Boston, be sure to sign up to see and be a part of the rollicking LUPEC USO Show. It’s going to be the hippest thing happening on the whole east coast in November.
Where do you stand on the long-running political feud between gin and Cognac? Or, are you brimming over with disgust at the overindulgence in political speak? Or, do you just really really like drinks with egg in them? Or, are you in the mood for a little French loving? All of above? No matter what your answer is, this drink video is for you.
Charlotte Brontë’s third published novel isn’t rampant with cocktailing (more focused on life in a boarding school in a bustling French town), but it is brilliantly fun to read for the precise and flourishing prose, and for the following quote, which I think delves perfectly into the aroma, and nature, of whiskey:
“A heated stove made the air of this room oppressive; and, to mend matters, it was scented with an odor rather strong than delicate: a perfume, indeed, altogether surprising and unexpected under the circumstances, being like the combination of smoke with some spirituous essence–a smell, in short, of whiskey.”
