I’ve had a couple Erik Ambler Cocktail Talks in the past (the long-ago past if we’re talking about the full age of this blog, but the short-ago past if we’re talking the age of peoplekind), and today feel I maybe didn’t give Mr. Ambler enough credit way back when. Or perhaps I’ve changed, as I just read Journey Into Fear, his international, I suppose intrigue novel is one way to describe it, spy-ish, is another, though the main character is in no way a spy, but an engineer of sorts. Said main character is in Turkey for his company in hope of updating Turkey’s water defense systems at the beginning of/right before WWI, and it turns out other countries aren’t hyped for this and so want to kill him. Exciting, right! I loved the pacing, the person-thrust-into-the-espionage-world nature, the exotic historic locales, and the intriguingly suspicious side characters that populate it. Enough that I went back and re-read another one of his books, and liked it better than in the past, too. Now I’m on the hunt for more! Hopefully more with Cocktail Talks like the below.
“I think some food would do me good.”
“My dear Mr. Graham! How stupid of me! Some food. Of course! We can stop at Novi. You will be my guest. And if there is any champagne to be had, we shall have it. There is nothing like champagne when one is depressed.”
Graham felt suddenly a little light-headed. He laughed.
The Consul raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry,” Graham apologized. “You must excuse me. You see, it is rather funny. I had an appointment to meet someone on the two o’clock train. She’ll be rather surprised to see me.”
Years and years ago I featured here on the Spiked Punch a quote we’ll call A Man’s Head Cocktail Part I, at least we will now, as today we are having A Man’s Head Part II! Both are from the George Simenon book of the same name, a book featuring his character par excellence, Inspector Maigret, the taciturn, sometimes slow-moving, relentless, irreplaceable Parisian policeman, and a book (you may have guessed this!), I recently re-read. It was as good this time as the first time, whisking you away in a bygone Paris through prose that is as unmistakable as our Inspector. This case circles around a man waiting to be hung for a double murder, but a double murder Maigret has come to believe the man didn’t commit – so he basically breaks him out of prison, and lets the chips fly. They come to fly around a bar for part of the time, the famous La Coupole, which is where the action, as it is, is taking place in the below. In that quote, a Rose cocktail is ordered, which if you don’t know (I had to double check), is a mix of London dry gin, Heering cheery liqueur, and dry vermouth, garnished with a cherry. My guess is there are about 137 Rose cocktails, but this is a classic number that you see referred to as “French style,” making me believe it’s the Rose below!
And William Kirby, pushing his way between two people, held out a hand across the mahogany bar.
“How are you, Bob?”
Mrs. Kirby went straight up to the yellow-haired Swedish girl, kissing her and talking volubly in English.
The newcomers had no need to order drinks. Bob promptly handed Kirst a whiskey and soda, and mixed a Rose for his young wife, asking:
“Back from Biarritz already?”
“Only stayed three days. It was raining worse than here.”
Here’s a nice old drink from like 100 years ago or more (at least as far as I can tell), which carries a swell story, too, as it was named after a legendary ballet troupe. How often do we have drinks named after ballet troupes today? Not often enough friends! It’s a dancing combo of vodka, crème de cassis, and lime, which I think is a dancing combo indeed for summer, which we are within, a little fruity, a little citrus, a lot of umph. I also think this should be served extra cold if you can, which means some serious shaking, as if you were in the shape of a prima donna ballerina, like, say Tamara Karsavina, who was one of the main dancers from the Ballets Russes, and who I have a little bit of an impossible crush on. Impossible unless one of you readers designs a time machine, which, if you do, might come in handy for other things besides impossible crushes (though they are very important). Just something to mull while you sip this drink.
Ballets Russes
Ice cubes
2 ounces vodka
1 ounce creme de cassis
1/2 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the vodka, cassis, and lime juice. Shake well, until your hands are too cold to shake more.
2. Strain through a fine strainer into a cocktail glass. Drink up, time traveler.
Here’s another Cocktail Talk quote from one of the super swell British Library Crime Classics anthologies. We’ve had a number of them on here in the past, as I’ve been slowly picking these collections up – there are a fair amount, all well edited by the hardest-working editor (at least it seems so from the many collections and individual novel reprints he’s edited) in fiction, Martin Edwards. Each, as a reminder or if you missed them in the past, features an assortment of mystery stories from better-known and lesser-known British writers who put pen to paper around the beginning of last century, with a little wiggle room on dates, all around a central theme. Today, the anthology is called Crimson Snow, and as you might expect, all the mysteries within it take place in winter, many around the holidays proper. Like in other collections in the series, some of the stories are known, some lesser-known, and some recovered by Mr. Edwards from deep in the pile, so to speak (meaning, they’d not be known at all today if he hadn’t dived deep into the British Library archives to find them). Being able to read these latter stories is amazing, to me, as nearly all are worthy reads, and ones I’d never have found on my own. Even some that were by authors very popular in their time, such as Victor Gunn (aka Edwy Searles Brooks), who wrote the story the below quote is from, a story called, straightforwardly enough, Death in December. Mr. Brooks wrote a fairly massive amount of books, and while he isn’t read as much today, perhaps he should be – these anthologies are great for introducing you to writers you don’t know but can hunt down more books by. This particular story features a sturdy, no-nonsense police detective named Bill “Ironsides” Cromwell (who featured in 43 books!) and his sidekick younger sergeant Johnny Lister, who find themselves trapped at country-house holiday party in a snowstorm, with a corpse (or two), lots of holiday merrymakers, an impossible crime, a ghost (?), and more chilly fun. As well as some excellent hot toddy.
Bill Cromwell and Johnny Lister quite naturally found themselves in a little gathering of men round the library fire after the ladies and more of the other guests had retired for the night. There was some excellent hot toddy going, and, incidentally, going fast. Everybody round the first was very talkative and affable; men who had not met one another until that same evening were pouring confidences into one another’s ears, and forgetting all about them the next minute.
I remember when Punt e’ Mes wasn’t readily available stateside (I am very old, but not so old as to remember even earlier, when it probably was more available, before the more recent availability rebound, and if that all made sense, you probably haven’t had as many Punt e’ Mes Highballs as me, or you’ve had more and can now see and understand all thing), and during that time calling at the bar for the Punt e’ Mes Highball would garner strange looks. However! Even though this delicious sweet vermouth – though with it’s sweetness, hints o citrus, trailing into a smidge of bitterness nature, it shades amaro, too – is now on more bar shelves, if you order a Punt e’ Mes Highball, you still might garner some strange and curious looks. I wonder if bartenders might not know what a highball is today? I kid, I kid! I think it’s just because not many in the U.S. really think, unless they see it on a menu, to order something so simple, so classic in a way that’s not often highlighted, so easy going? Perhaps. But you, yes you, can help, by ordering one of these yourself this summer. Trust me, it’s delicious: light, bit citrus, bit spicy, bit bubbly, bit sweet, bit bitter, all refreshing, ideal for the sunshine-y months. If you and I both start ordering them, maybe I’ll stop getting those strange looks. And, as a bonus, we’ll both be super happy when sipping, too.
1. Fill a smallish highball glass or a big rocks glass three-quarter-ish up with ice cubes. Add the Punt e’ Mes.
2. Top with the ginger ale. Stir. Be happy.
A Note: Go for a good gingery ginger ale here, not one that’s too sweet. If you’re in Italy, hey, lucky you! Also, in every Italian grocery store you can find these little bottles of ginger ale, and they go perfectly here. If you’re not in Italy, you might even want to go ginger beer, as the ginger ales over here sadly can descend into sugary messes. There are some dandy, non-massively-corporate ones, too, I should say. Ginger beers, too. Rachel’s Ginger Beer would be amazing in here, as an example!
I’m realizing now, after a period of reflection, that I didn’t actually say inThe Five Bells and Bladebone Part I Cocktail Talk what the book was about, outside of a general overview into Martha Grimes books being named after pubs (or at least a fair portion of them and all the ones I’ve read). The non-description is a bit of an oversight, not that I’m here on the Spiked Punch to do book reviews. But I would be happy to try and entice you to read the books we Cocktail Talk from, if in a light manner that doesn’t interrupt your drinking. With that: a bit of a TW (twat-waffle) is found after being murdered and stuffed into a secretaire, which has been delivered to an antique dealer, who resides in the same town as wealthy ex-lord (he gave up the title, if you’re worried) Melrose Plant, bestie of the intrepid and dreamy (at least to some of the ladies) Inspector Jury (star solver in the Grimes pantheon). From there, there’s a confusing case of identity, some British village characters, a dip into Thames-adjacent London (where our titled pub is), and lots of gin. In the below quote for a start.
As she poured a small Niagara of gin into the pitcher, Jury said, “I’m sorry. Were you expecting a friend?”
“Only you, Superintendent.” She filled the cap of the vermouth bottle, poured half back in the bottle, and added this breath of vermouth to the pitcher.
“Olive? A twist? I prefer a bit of garlic rubbed round the glass myself. Or would you rather have vodka?”
“The search for the perfect Martini, is that it?”
“The perfect Martini, Superintendent, is a belt of gin from the bottle; one has to be slightly civilized, however.”
Here’s a nice smoky, citrusy, smoothy, pepper-y number that’s ideal for the Junes, the time we’re residing within as I drink this. It all came about thusly: for reasons unknown (outside of me getting old, maybe having two many bottles around, those two things, or maybe it was alien interference in the atmosphere, which can be quite a problem on clear early-nearly-summer evenings), I forgot for a moment that I had a three-quarters full bottle of Ancho Reyes, the delectable ancho chile liqueur based on a recipe from way back in 1927, a liqueur delivering a hint of smoke and heat alongside a balanced spice array, cinnamon, cocoa, tamarind, and a little nuttiness. Amazing stuff. So, when I discovered this bottle I’d misplaced in my mind for a short time (very short, compared to the universe’s bdays), I knew I needed to make a drink with it immediately. I first thought “tequila!” as one does, but then my hand when removing the Ancho Reyes brushed again a bottle of Peruvian Pisco, the grape-based brandy beloved in certain South American spots (and by me in Seattle). I felt it’d go grandly in my proposed drink. Then I played around a bit, and ended up desiring some orange-y notes. Voila! I grabbed Brovo’s Orange Curaçao, crafted with care up here in the WA via three types of dried orange peel. It’s a treat of orange mysticism that also brings a smidge of sweet (Brovo’s Orange Curaçao and Ancho Reyes go so well together they both feature in a drink called the All the Devils cocktail). However! Even though these three stalwarts made a swell sipper themselves, I wanted to take it up to another level entirely, and felt some fresh citrus notes, nothing overwhelming, might do it. And, I was right (I say, modestly). A small amount of fresh oj, with it’s bright notes and vitamin C, did the trick. And there you have, a drink destined to make your June jolly.
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add it all! Shake well.
2. Strain the mix through a fine strainer into a cocktail glass or wine glass or goblet or whatever suits you. We’re not gonna glass shame here, friends.
I’ve had a few Martha Grimes Cocktail Talks on the Spiked Punch in the past, and now it’s time for another! From a book of hers I recently picked up called The Five Bells and Bladebone, which may seem a rather odd name for a book. But it’s taken from an English pub (which might differ in one space from the book title, that being between blade and bone), as are all the books I’ve read by Martha Grimes, and a big portion of all the books she wrote – so far, as she’s still alive at 93, and might write more! These titles and the pubs contained within the books makes said books, as you might expect, ripe for Cocktail Talking. That’s not the only reason for reading them, naturally, as she writes a fairly good mystery yarn, too, featuring her crime-solving, somehow wistful to me (as wistful as a hunky tall dude can be), Inspector Jury, alongside, for some of the time, his pal and sometimes helper Melrose Plant, who was an English Lord (before giving up the title, though perhaps not some of the lord-y-ness), and his always-sick-talking hypochondriacal sidekick sergeant Wiggins. I perhaps didn’t love this book of hers as much as past ones I’ve read, but it’s still well worth tracking down, and not just because one character drinks whiskey out of a toothbrush glass, as you’ll see below.
Jury half rose, but she was already out of her chair, moving quickly and purposefully towards her target. All of her movements were quick and purposeful, thought Jury. If this was Lady Summerston sick, he be almost afraid to see Lady Summerston well.
Her voice preceded her as she returned with the picture. As if reading his mind, she was saying, “I imagine Crick told you I had a heart condition, a lung condition, a live condition. The last might be true, but not the first two. There’s a decanter of whiskey on the bureau. Get it, will you? And” – she called after him – “ get the toothbrush glass from the bathroom.”
