You might think that I’m in error here, in my typing, or that I’ve gone off the rails into some other universe, or parallel time range, or some other high-brow theoretical bar or lounge where the Sazerac, one of the world’s most well-known and beloved drinks, has a different spelling. But, nope! This is a separate drink entirely, been around for a bit, though not so well-known, and not ordered much if at all. Which is a shame, as it’s fairly tasty, though containing a passel of ingredients: two base spirits (rye and rum), two bitters (Angostura and Orange, Scrappy’s Orange here), other items of note (anisette and absinthe to be specific). It’s probably that ingredient list which has scared off drinkers and drink makers, but they somehow go together. Perhaps not with that beautiful simplicity the Sazarac is known for (though they do share absinthe in their lists), but delivering a layered flavor that’s memorable in its own right. Give it a whirl – though don’t give up Sazaracs if you fall in love with this here drink. There’s room for both.
This is one of those drinks that when you look at the ingredient list your first thought is probably, “whaaaaa?” as the four fine products used here don’t necessarily seem to match in that first moment. Partially cause anisette, even the so-good-it’s-hard-to-put-into-words Meletti anisette, can be such a strong personality that it may not seem a match with, say, Lillet’s delicate wine-aperitif tones. And maybe not even a match with a staunch British gin such as Boodles, our heaviest player here (in ounces!), made of British wheat and leaning classically towards juniper, coriander, angelica. By the by, I love all three of those ingredients, and you probably do, too, so maybe I’m making too much of the “odd trio” angle, but hey, they didn’t at first take to each other as well as I’d hoped. Until adding the robust Peychaud’s Whiskey Barrel Aged bitters, which somehow (bitters does tend to make it better), brought every other ingredient into the playing field nicely for me. After a little testing of amounts and some ritual incantations and normal stuffs like that. Short story: trust me! This is a good cocktail.
This is not a spelling error (not that I don’t make those a lot); if you didn’t know, there really is a drink called The Zazarac. It wants you to know that it, while not renowned and legendary and all that, it in its own way is also worthy of your attention, much like its very distant cousin (though maybe not the same amount of attention, admittedly). It has a rare rye and rum combo, some friendly supporting players in anisette (go Meletti) and absinthe and Angostura and orange bitters (go Regan’s), and takes the edges off with a splash of simple, and tops things with a twist. Will it have you stopping your Sazerac consumption? Nope. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it a sip.
It’s morning, and nearly the beginning of summer, which means I (as I always do) am going to sit myself down and have a Baltimore Bracer and read Thomas Osborne Davis’ “The Sack of Baltimore:”
The summer sun is falling soft on Carbery’s hundred isles,
The summer sun is gleaming still through Gabriel’s rough defiles;
Old Innisherkin’s crumbled fane looks like a moulting bird,
And in a calm and sleepy swell the ocean tide is heard:
The hookers lie upon the beach; the children cease their play;
The gossips leave the little inn; the households kneel to pray;
And full of love, and peace, and rest, its daily labor o’er,
Upon that cosy creek there lay the town of Baltimore.
Well, at least that first stanza. Hmm, I sorta think I may be reading at least one word differently than he meant it.
During the summer months (and really, even though we’re not officially in summer, let’s call it summer, okay? June feels like summer to me. Go with it), it’s tempting to have a drink called The Snowball – right? Right. But, there are so many! There’s the one with advocaat (the liqueur made from egg, sugar, and brandy) and sparkling lemonade. There’s another with brandy, simple syrup, an egg, and ginger ale. Both have their moments. But today, this particular day, I’m going with the below, which is wonderful on an early summer’s night, and of which famed drink explorer Harry Craddock said, around 1930, “This is women’s work.” Hah, I’ll show you Harry.
Ice cubes
2 ounces gin
1/2 ounce crème de violette
1/2 ounce white crème de menthe
1/2 ounce anisette
1/2 ounce heavy cream
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the gin, crème de violette, crème de menthe, anisette, and cream to a cocktail shaker. Shake well.
Earlier this month, I admitted to having only a tenuous relationship (until recently) with Edmund Crispin and his fictional English detective Gervase Fen. Since I’m in the admitting mood (hah, no, I’m not admitting that, yet), I should also say that until recently I hadn’t read any books featuring an even more famous detective, Inspector Maigret of the Paris PD, as written by George Simenon in 74 novels and 28 short stories. Whoa! I don’t even have the cat vs. dog excuse in this case. But recently I picked up three Maigret novels to see what I was missing, and completely dug them – a bit dark, a bit French, a bit rainy for some reason, but full of murder, mysteriousness, and a lot of food and drink. They do take place in France, after all. And I can’t wait to read more, especially when they contain Cocktail Talk like the below:
He had drunk only one glass of Champagne. Then rest of time he had drunk mostly wine, then, God knows why, anisette.
Who had ordered anisette? Oh yes, it was the dentist. A retired dentist to be precise, whose name escaped him. Another phenomenon. There was nothing but phenomenon on the island.
Holy Toledo! Everyone who’s been holding your breath can now exhale – the new season of the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour is finally upon us. They (those bastardos) said it couldn’t be done, said that the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour was too radicool, too awesome, too tasty for modern T.V. – but they were wrong. To prove it, the first episode of the new season, where I teach you have to make the Kick-Off, a combination of gin, dry vermouth, anisette, Benedictine, and Angostura. Get to it, y’all!
A week ago today, I put up a Friday night drink called the Portofino, which was a drink I made for my mother’s 75th birthday party. One of the other drinks (there were three) was the Marguerite. As mentioned in that earlier post, I was slightly angling the drinks the Italian way, and the Italian connection here is anisette – specifically Meletti anisette, which is one of the finest sippers I know. I blogged more about it on a specific Meletti post, so go catch up if you missed it. Then, when back, make this drink. It has an interesting balance, as it’s equal parts gin and vermouth, but the end result is awfully wonderful (oh, the recipe is from Ginger Bliss and the Violet Fizz, if you wondered).
The Marguerite
Cracked ice
1-1/4 ounces gin
1-1/4 ounces dry vermouth
1/4 ounce anisette
Thin lemon slice for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the gin, vermouth, and anisette. Stir well.
2. Strain the mix into a cocktail glass or comparable glass
3. Give the lemon slice a small squeeze over the glass then drop it in.
