March 26, 2024

Cocktail Talk: Strange Disturbances in Aungier Street

The Tiled House, J.S. Le Fanu

I’ve been dipping my terrified toes into more 1800s, early 1900s ghost/supernatural stories lately, specifically those written by J.S. Le Fanu, an Irish writer born in 1814. Not going to say I feel as ghastly good towards his works I’ve read so far as a I do to M.R. James, but ol’ J.S. can spin a scary yard. He was one of the (if not the) writers of horror tales who took the genre from Gothic chain-rattling to more psychological other-worldness, if that makes sense (and he was a somewhat troubled person himself, it seems, so the terrors really have that personal feel lots of the time). The stories I’ve been reading are all in a scarily swell collection called The Tiled House, put out by Collins Chillers (I need to track more of the anthologies in that line down, as it seems there are some ghoulishly grand ones), and includes the story the below spirits – the boozy ones – are featured within.

A night or two after the departure of my comrade, I was sitting by my bedroom fire, the door locked, and the ingredients of a tumbler of hot whisky-punch upon the crazy spider-table; for, as the best mode of keeping the

            Black spirits and white,

            Blue spirits and grey,

with which I was environed, at bay, I had adopted the practice recommended by the wisdom of my ancestors, and “kept my spirits up by pouring spirits down.”

–J.S. Le Fanu, “Strange Disturbances in Aungier Street”

March 15, 2024

What I’m Drinking: The Leaping Drive

Well, I apologize – I really should have had this cocktail up on February 29, as that was leap day and this is a leap year and this drive, or drink, is leaping (with flavor! And in the name). It’s not the Leap Year, which is another drink, but somewhat related, and, well, just would have been good to have on or nearer to the actual leap day, though I suppose I’m still having this drink within a month of it, and darn it, the drink’s still good (and related in little ways to other drinks like the Sidecar and various other gin and Cointreau and vermouth and lemon drinks, so if you like that or those drinks, then you will be fond of this I’ll bet, maybe even leaping over things to have it), and sometimes that can weigh even more than an appropriate story, though as I’ve told you time and time again, good stories make good drinks even better. So, maybe pretend it’s still leap day? Having a couple of these tangy, botanical, citrusical, drinks might help with the leaping, or lead to both leaping and jumping. Maybe skipping too! Which would be fun.

The Leaping Drive cocktail

The Leaping Drive

Ice cubes

2 ounces gin (I used Washington-made Kur gin, and it served me well)

3/4 ounces Blanc vermouth (I used Dolin, and it was a reliable delight)

1/2 ounce Cointreau

1/4 ounce freshly-squeezed lemon juice

Lemon twist, for garnish

1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add everything but the twist. Shake well.

2. Strain through a fine strainer into a cocktail glass (or comparable). Garnish with the twist.

March 12, 2024

Cocktail Talk: Death of a Dutchman

Death of a Dutchman

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.

–Magdalen Nabb, Death of a Dutchman

March 5, 2024

Cocktail Talk: The Message on the Sun-Dial

called Murder At the Manor: Country House Mysteries

Here we have another British Library Crime Classics Cocktail Talk. What are the British Library Crime Classics, I can hear you ask? I’m glad you did ask, friend! These are rediscovered novels and short story anthologies brought back from the mists of time for our modern-day reading pleasure. I’ve read a few of the novels, but even more of the short story collections, which are marvelously done (the editor is a chap named Martin Edwards, who also writes his own mystery novels, and does so much editing I doubt he sleeps). The most recently read one for me was called Murder At the Manor: Country House Mysteries, and as with all of them, it’s a delight in the main, with stories from a host of authors known and unknown – really, these are dandy ways to discover authors from the past you may have missed. For me, that includes J.J. Bell, journalist and author, who it seems wasn’t as well known for his mystery output as perhaps he should have been (perhaps more known for comic fiction). The quote below from his story “The Message on the Sun-Dial” features a not-so-savory man named Bolsover. You might not like him by the story’s end, but you have to admire his ability to drink at lunch.

He lunched leisurely at an unusually early hour. He preceded the meal with a couple of cocktails, accompanied it with a pint of Champagne, and followed it with a liqueur. He felt much better, though annoyed by an unwanted tendency to perspire. On his leaving the restaurant, the tendency became more pronounced, so much so that he feared it must be noticeable, and once more he took a taxi, telling the man to go Kensington way.

— J.J. Bell, “The Message on the Sun-Dial”

March 1, 2024

What I’m Drinking: Full Moon Over Washington

It is not a full moon today, but that does not mean you can’t drink this delicious drink – really, you can have it any day! It’s that good. I say ‘umbly. And, also, you may not be in the Pacific Northwest today – you can still have this drink if not, though I should warn you it is a very PNW drink, as all of the ingredients are made up this way (actually all are made in WA state proper, but as we’re – me typing in WA now – a part of the PNW, thought I’d stretch a bit). But most I feel are available outside of these hallowed longitude/latitude coordinates, luckily! What are said ingredients? I am glad you asked. First up, is Browne Family Spirits Bourbon, a hit in the late-winter, looking-at-spring days we’re currently in, due to its campfire-echo and oak aroma, wispy smoke-and-pepper finish, and lovely browned-buttered sweetness (it carries a nice warming 90-proofness, too). That taste goes lovely-like with a seriously individual amaro here, Brovo #14 Amaro, whose recipe was created by Mike Ryan and combines singularly Guatemalan chocolate, thyme, cinnamon, sarsaparilla, angelica, and vanilla. One of a kind! With all that choco-buttery-goodness, it only felt right (and tasted right, after some testing) to bring in some orange-ness, and here that’s coming via another Brovo hit, Tacoma Punk, made from half unsweetened Brovo Orange Curacao and half of their Amaro #4, with the end result’s slightly spicy orange flavor mingling mightily with our first two ingredients. But one more note felt needed, to me, when designing this moony number, and following along the theory that if you have four or more ingredients one should be bitters, the last addition is Scrappy’s Aromatic bitters. Made via an herb maceration, this classically-styled bitters is ideally balanced and adds a bit of herb and spice goodness that bring the drink together. A treat, I tell you, no matter what the moon looks like above you when drinking. But as it is called Full Moon Over Washington, I’ve added a cherry for garnish to stand in for the moon, in case, to cover all phases, so to speak (oh, the cherry goes perfectly, taste-wise, too).

Full Moon Over Washington Cocktail

Full Moon Over Washington

Cracked ice

2-1/4 ounces Browne Family Spirits bourbon

3/4 ounces Brovo Amaro #14

1/2 ounce Tacoma Punk orange liqueur

Dash Scrappy’s Aromatic bitters

Maraschino cherry, for garnish

1. Fill a mixing glass or cocktails shaker halfway full with cracked ice. Add all but the moon. Wait, I mean all but the cherry. Stir well.

2. Strain into a cocktail glass, add the cherry, carefully. Howl, if you must.

February 20, 2024

Cocktail Talk: Charles Dickens: A Life

Charles Dickens: A Life by Claire Tomalin

Well, what can you say about Charlie Dickens that hasn’t already been said – much of it in the highly-regarded biography Charles Dickens: A Life by Claire Tomalin, which I’ve been reading, and which is very well done, very researched, very well-written, and very in-depth. Reading biographies isn’t always my thing, I’d rather usually just read the work, but I’m a fairly decent Dickens-head (heck, read all the Charles Dickens Cocktail Talks to see), and had just visited the awesome Charles Dickens Museum in London, so thought I’d take the bio plunge. And I’m glad I did! But also a bit sad, because the more you learn, sometimes it’s too much. And though it’s a great bio book, she didn’t mention the greatest of all Dickens characters, Diogenes the dog, so that was a big black mark. But balanced by the below quote, where she’s talking about Dickens the party thrower, parties which certainly seem ones I would have enjoyed, and where Fortnum was involved (I’m a big Fortnum & Mason fan as well as a Dickens fan).

Accounts of his entertaining there, over which he sometimes presided in a velvet smoking coat, suggest that there was a high consumption of iced gin punch and hot brandy punch, much smoking of cigars, and delicious food brought in from Fortnum’s – pickled salmon, pigeon pie, cold meats, and hot asparagus – oysters from Maiden Lane and sometimes a baked leg of mutton stuffed with veal and oysters, a dish of his own invention.

–Claire Tomalin, Charles Dickens: A Life

February 16, 2024

What I’m Drinking: The 6 O’clock Cocktail

What the saying – it’s always 6 o’clock somewhere (well, maybe that’s an hour off the saying, but it is none-the-less true)? With that, I believe that this beauty should be the cocktail du jour pretty much all the time somewhere in the world. Sadly, it’s fallen from knowledge in the main, if it ever was in the main. I found it, mostly recently, in a little pamphlet called Come for Cocktails. Published by The Taylor Wine Company in 1958, I’m guessing at 6 o’clock on a Friday in anticipation of everyone drinking this mix of both sweet and dry vermouth, dry sherry, and a lemon twist. It has that swell vermouth heavier and lighter balance, with a knock of sherry nuttiness (I suggest a fine fino if you find it), and a twinkle of citrus. The lack of a higher abv base spirit means it’s a nice one if you’ve been (gasp!) dry January-ing as well, and want to ease back into the cocktails at a more measured pace. Not a bad idea for anyone if starting at 6, really!

The 6 o'clock cocktail recipe with sweet vermouth, dry vermouth, and sherry

The 6 O’clock Cocktail

Cracked ice

1 ounce dry vermouth

1 ounce sweet vermouth

1 ounce sherry

Lemon twist, for garnish

1. Fill a mixing glass or cocktail shaker halfway full with cracked ice. Add our trio of liquids. Stir well.

2. Strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with the lemon twist.

February 13, 2024

Cocktail Talk: Maigret in Holland

Cocktail Talk: Maigret in Holland

My filling out of my Maigret collection continues! Wait, you say, you aren’t sure what I mean? I can’t believe you aren’t joking. You’re joking. Well, just in case, I mean specifically the Inspector Maigret novels and stories by writer Georges Simenon, starring the taciturn (at times) and methodical (until the mood hits) Parisian police commissaire. Please check out past Maigret Cocktail Talks to learn more, if you haven’t already. In my latest pickup, Maigret not only leaves his normal Paris stomping grounds, but leaves France altogether (the book name may give this away) for Holland, where a French citizen is involved in a murder case in a small Dutch town. As he doesn’t speak the language, and isn’t an official local cop, the case provides some wrinkles for our tall Inspector. But he still manages to find a café and a hotel bar for some mid-case sipping. And to teach the locals what drinking is all about.   

“You won’t refuse a little glass of brandy, will you? They have some good stuff here.”

“If you don’t mind, it’s my turn now,” said Maigret, in a tone that tolerated no opposition. “Only, since I don’t speak Dutch, I must ask you to order it for me. A bottle of brandy and some glasses.”

Pijpekamp meekly interpreted.

“Those glasses won’t do,” Maigret said when Madame Van Hasselt came bustling up.

He got up and went himself to get some bigger ones. Placing them on the table, he filled them right up to the rim.

“A toast for you, gentlemen,” he said gravely. “The Dutch police!”

“The stuff was so strong it brought tears to Pijpekamp’s eyes. But Maigret, with a smile on his face, gave no quarter. Again and again her raised his glass, repeating:

“Your health, Monsieur Pijpekamp! . . . To the Dutch police!”

–Georges Simenon, Maigret in Holland

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