Not but a few mysterious weeks ago, I had a Cocktail Talk featuring a book called The American Who Watched British Mysteries, a cozy mystery whose title vaguely sounds like me (as I watch and love British television mysteries incessantly). And now, today, I’m having a Cocktail Talk for that book’s follow-up, called Ballgame. In the second American Who Watched British Mysteries book, all those quotes and references to favorite shows again spring up like clues alongside the clues to the mystery itself.
Levelheaded police detective Marlowe is back, summoned to a suspicious death that happened at a kid’s baseball field – while a game was taking place. And it turns out that mystery-television enthusiast John Arthur, who ended up helping Marlowe solve an earlier case, and brindled bouncy dog Ainsley were in the bleachers when it happened.
Marlowe and his partner-in-solving-crime Detective Morven, along with newly promoted Detective Nelson, discover that though the victim, pastor Pat Brown, died in front of a crowd during the game, seemingly no-one saw anything suspicious. Not even John Arthur. But he does have a number of British mystery quotes – and a few from a New Zealand town called Brokenwood – that he assures Marlowe will help.
It’s another fun read, and in it like the first book they spend time in one of my favorite fictional bars, Gary’s. Which is where the below quote comes into play.
“How about a Garibaldi?”
“Remind me?”
“Simple but delicious. And nutritious. Old compadre Campari with fresh OJ over ice. Campari taking the edge off and stimulating the brain, orange juice for vitamins and sweet citrus, ice to chill it out. Named for Giuseppe Garibaldi, the general who was one of those behind the wheel unifying your beloved Italy. National hero. Led his Redshirt army, shirts as red as Campari. Ideal for leaders and for the vitamin C deficient. Horses for courses and all, but you’ll enjoy.”
“I will. Hit me.”
Gary grabbed a glass and a bottle of Campari and started making the drink, saying, “Interestingly, the redshirts kicked off when Garibaldi was helping the Uruguayan civil war. A military leader with national independence and republican ideals, our Giuseppe.” He placed the drink in front of Marlowe with a flourish. “Must dash. Duty calls bartenders too.”
Well, here’s a jolly good mystery read, if I do say so myself (hehe). In The American Who Watched British Mysteries, by the book police Detective Marlowe is investigating the strangulation death of Lucy Dixon, beginning the case by interviewing recent widower John Arthur, who, with his brindled bouncy dog Ainsley (what a wonderful name for a dog!), found the body early on a Saturday morning next to a tree-filled community center. Mysterious, right? The detective soon discovers that John is a massive fan of British mystery television series (hey, I am too), to the point that he keeps going on tangents about the two Detective Barnabys from Midsomer and quoting French – or is it Belgian? – private investigators. As Marlowe and his team begin to dig into the case, John keeps showing up. He knew the victim, calls the neighborhood a village, and arrives at the station with a map of the block she lived on, detailing everyone who was at the party attended the night before her murder. As the officers investigate, John’s TV-driven insights and attention to detail become surprisingly helpful. But Marlowe’s eyebrows keep raising as he wonders if the man, who he starts to think of as a friend, is a curious and lonely television obsessive, or could he actually be involved with the murder? And is it, as John brings up, a one-murder show, a two-murder show, or an even-more-murders show?
It sorta hits all my boxes: British TV mysteries, British mysteries in general, cozy mystery books, good characters, neat references, there’s a dog, it breezes along while still having a good mystery going, and, perhaps most of all, there’s a very good bar featured, Gary’s, with an English bartender named Gary! And, as you might expect from a book here on the ol’ Spiked Punch, there is lots of Cocktail Talking, lots around Italian drinks. Including the below quote.
Marlowe had fallen for the Italian Negroni way back when introduced to it on his first visit to the country, loving the ideal balance between gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari—bitter and sweet and herbal mingling. When he’d first ordered one back home after that long-past Italian trip, the bartender he’d ordered from had no idea what he was talking about. He’d had to walk him through the drink construction step by step. Now, Gary had told him that there’s a whole Negroni week bars around the country take part in. The world, it had gotten smaller.
Before his musing got any further down the global gully, Gary set the drink in front of him with a minor flourish. “Ta-da. One country-trotting Negroni, made with Italian Campari, Spanish vermouth, and British gin. And an orange twist from Florida, I surmise. And local water in the form of ice. Cheers.”
I’ve had only one other Magdalen Nabb Cocktail Talk, even though I’ve now read four of her books starring Marshal Guarnaccia, a persistent marshal in the Carabinieri (the second police force in Italy, one that grew out of the military and has a sometimes helpful, sometimes less relationship with the Polizia di Stato). The books take place in Florence, a city I’ve visited and loved lots, so I should really have a few more of Cocktail Talks from said books – here’s hoping the future leads to that very occurrence, especially as I find myself very fond of the Marshal, whose steady, non-flashy, neighborhood cop-y sense and regular Italian sensibility are very enticing in a way. Not to mention that he interacts with barmen serving Campari, which I always like to read about.
“Let’s hope not. I don’t want any shoot-outs with terrorists taking place in my bar, thanks.”
And he, too, began to scan the innocent-looking tourists.
“Rubbish! That sort of thing only happens in Rome . . .”
But both them touched the metal edge of the counter to ward off evil, and the barman, dropping ice-cubes into three Camparis for an outside table, kept an eye on the Marshal’s broad back.
Well, it’s a big week for celebrations. Actually, let me rephrase – last Tuesday, the 4th, was a big day for celebrations. Though it’s the kind of day where the celebrations I believe can and do start early and go late, late, late into the week. I’m thinking, as those in the US would guess, of the 4th as Independence Day where I’m typing, but also , as those in Italy would guess I’d guess, of the 4th as the birthday of Giuseppe Garibaldi, he being the general who was one of the driving human forces responsible for unifying Italy, and a national hero. And today we’re celebrating General Garibaldi here on the Spiked Punch, with a drink named after him. His army, if you didn’t know, was often referred to as the “redshirt” army, thanks to reasons you can guess from the name – meaning, they wore red shirts! Funny enough, the redshirts started when he was helping in the Uruguayan civil war (he got around as a military leader, known for his national independence bent and republican ideals). The Garibaldi, the drink that is, which you should be drinking this week in his honor, and as a way to draw all the 4th celebrations you can think of into week-wide events, is a citrus-y, tangy number, with a slightly beautiful bitter hint, thanks to Campari. What a day!
The Garibaldi
Ice cubes
2 ounces Campari
5 ounces freshly squeezed orange juice
1. Fill a highball glass three quarters full with ice cubes. Add the Campari and the orange juice.
2. Stir well. Drink up, toasting in the general direction of Italy.
You know (cause you’re you) that I’m a big fan by a country mile (as the saying says) of coming up with a new original amazing (or at least new) name when you concoct a new drink, even if said drink only changes one ingredient from an existing drink. That’s the way our bartending foremothers and forefathers did it back in the cocktail day (in this instance, meaning late 1800s, early 1900s) I believe, and if it was good enough for them, it’s good enough for me. However! Sometimes, when the drink is really close, even I am tempted to just add an “ini” on the end or “insert word here + existing drink name” as the name and call it good. But I, even when lazy (which is most of the time) try to resist! Here, for example, I almost just said “Cherry Negroni” but then decided (still, lazily) to call it instead, The Ciliegia, which is Italian for cherry! But really, it’s mostly a Negroni (slightly different portions) with delightful Washington distillery Oomrang’s (in your mind, insert umlauts over the Os) delightful Cherry eau de vie in place of gin.
If you haven’t had it (you should!) Oomrang Cherry eau di vie, or fruit brandy, is made from natural Washington black cherries, picked at the peak of ripeness, at which time the finest of the fine have the stems removed, as well as any leafage, and then they’re rapidly turned into brandy via the joys and wonders of distillation. Fruit brandies (the real ones, not the fake ones – of which there are a lot, especially I think a lot of “cherry brandies” which are really just cherries muddled with vodka or another neutral spirit and a lot of sugaring agent, ending up oversweet and yucky) if you haven’t delved in are straight spirits, which – as demonstrated in this very drink – boast clear, crisp, flavors that catch the essence of a fruit in a way that’s wholly unique, and tasty. Here, the cherry notes mix a treat with the herbal sweetness of the sweet vermouth, and the bittery beauty of the Campari, without sacrificing the gin’s umph, as this real cherry brandy has the same ABV as the average gin. Heck, it’s a good enough combo that I’d drink it even if you did call it just a Cherry Negroni.
Harold Q. Masur (also pubbed as Harold Masur, Hal Masur, Hal Q. Masur, and perhaps some other variations on his name) has made a fair number of appearances on the old Spiked Punch. Heck, just check out the past Harold Masur Cocktail Talks for evidence. Funny to mention evidence, as his protagonist (his only one as far as I’ve read) is a lawyer named Scott Jordan, who is on the straight and narrow when it comes to lawyering in court, but isn’t opposed to a little breaking and entering if needed, and especially isn’t opposed to the drinks and nightlife and ladies. And he solves murders and stuff, too. In The Mourning After, the affairs are around art, which adds a nice cultured touch – how many mysteries mention or revolve around lesser-known (at least in relation to Matisse) fauve-ist artist Maurice de Vlaminck? Not too many! It’s not all art, however, as Jordan finds times for drinks, too. And one of them is Campari! Seeing that in a mystery makes my day. And near the word “agog,” a word I love and one not used as much modernly? Amazing.
At the Carlyle, seated at a small table, sipping a Campari and soda, Angela was still agog at the thought of a one-man show at the Maxim Gallery for Carl Baum.
“Never heard of the chap,” I said. “Tell me about him.”
I love this drink – love it! And, as it’s the lover’s month, so to speak, felt I should kick things off with a drink I love. And this is it! Funny enough, was thinking about it recently over the past holiday season, when making it for some holiday pals. See, I always couched it in a sorta murder mystery persona (if cocktails have personas, which I believe they do), the drop of crimson blood on the slippers giving Miss Marple the needed clue (or whomever detective you desire, I’m feeling Marple-y) to solve the mystery. But, during this holiday season and discussion, a thought popped into my addled mind – wouldn’t Santa have slippers the color of crimson? Maybe? Maybe! So, that meant this could be a holiday drink, too. Either way, I love it. You will do. No matter what holiday you’re sipping it on.
As the end of another year looms in front of us (along with the joyous and jolly holiday season), it reminds me that – I am old, hahaha! So old that I remember being in New York City, the biggest city in the world, make it there, etc., to teach a cocktail class or some such, and when I went into a bar, a good bar, and asked for a Negroni, they didn’t know how to make it. Now, you youngsters with your Negroni weeks and endless Negroni variations probably can’t believe it, but it’s true! The booze world of modern times is an oft-marvelous place, even though not all Negroni relatives are as marvelous, some are. And the Rosita is one of the top international Negroni, let’s call it a cousin. The usual modern-day Rosita recipe I believe goes back to the great, friendly, fantastic Gary Regan (sadly now shaking and sipping at that big ol’ bar in the sky), back to his Bartender’s Bible. The drink is – if you don’t know – a drink that combines tequila, both sweet and dry vermouths, Campari, and Angostura bitters. Delicious! Shades of the Negroni, changed up by tequila’s vegetal smoke and the dry vermouth’s lighter and bitter’s darker notes, holding on to the deep herbs and coloring of the Campari and sweet vermouth.
The other evening, I almost made that very drink, with some DE-NADA Reposado tequila (which had, lucky for me, shown up in the post recently). Almost! DE-NADA Reposado, beyond the all-caps, is crafted from 100% estate-grown blue agave in Jalisco by the fifth-generation Vivanco family distillers, aged in ex-bourbon American oak barrels for a minimum of four months, and ends up a swell, approachable, sipper, smooth, with peach and pineapple fruit notes mingling with almond and cinnamon, underlined by a caramel vanilla yumminess. In the same way as it’s Blanco sibling, it’s confirmed additive free, too (it’s part of the additive-free family – unlike a fair number of others), and certified Carbon Neutral. A good thing to make a drink with! Probably good to make a regular Rosita with, in the normal style. But I, I was feeling contrary, and decided it would be even better subbed for gin straight into my normal Negroni recipe (which is the classic 1:1:1). And, while I’m not saying it was better, it was certainly darn good! The tequila’s vanilla-nut-spice-fruit-ness gets to shine a touch more, and went wonderfully with the sweet vermouth as the only vermouth, while keeping the Campari at an equal level ensured that the sweetness didn’t take over. I also garnished with an orange slice, and that bit of fresh citrus, well, it was a treat I tell you. Try it before you get too old, and see if I’m right!
