As anyone knows, a week on this blog equals, usually, three posts (sue me if that seems wrong—my lawyers are at the bar). Which means, sadly, Shot Week is already coming to an end. Be sure you read Shot Week Day 1 and Shot Week Day 2 to get the full story. But the basics are thus: cocktail genius and genuinely nice fella Andrew Bohrer has a delicious new book out, called The Best Shots You’ve Never Tried. It’s bringing the idea of the shot, a shorter drink, to a higher plateau. Instead of shots thrown down the throat rapidly so-as to avoid tasting them, the shots in his book are ones to savor and share. So, quit pussyfooting around—buy the book. If Shot Week so far wasn’t enough to sway you, check out the below recipe for the diabolical Diablita, which you should consume rapidly to ensure the devil doesn’t enter your mouth.
If you didn’t read Shot Week, Day 1, then go do that now, so you know where I (and the shots) am coming from. In short, from Andrew Bohrer’s bubbly new book The Best Shots You’ve Never Tried, but go get the full backstory in the below post—I’ll wait.
Great, now that we’re all on the same shot page (so to speak), I’m going jump right into Shot Week’s second shot, one with history and cooking. But hey, to give you a better feel for the book’s personality—which is wonderful—I’m gonna back out of the way and let Andrew talk, via the headnote from the book:
“The Carthusian Shrub
Plums and cocktails don’t really mix. Even the ripest plums must be mashed into oblivion to get any play into a cocktail. The Carthusian Shrub takes fresh plums and roasts out their sweet juices into, well, a shrub. What is a shrub? A type of colonial era, prebottled cocktail consisting of cooked fruit and vinegar. It may sound crazy, but this type of boozy gastrique was a mainstay of drinking culture long before the cocktail was invented.”
Makes 2 Shots
1 de-stoned plum
2 ounces Green Chartreuse
1 ounce water
.25 ounce balsamic vinegar
1. Preheat oven to 350 ° F.
2. Cover the de-stoned plum with Green Chartreuse, water, and balsamic vinegar in a roasting pan.
3. Roast uncovered for 30 minutes.
4 . Allow mixture to cool and strain into a separate vessel.
Wait, before you start, let me say that I know what you’re going to say. “Shot?” you would have said if I hadn’t stopped you, “aren’t shots just something you throw down to ingest quickly, not worrying about the taste just the result?” Luckily, I stopped you, cause you would have been 100% wrong.
Well, maybe not 100%, as you, like me, may have grown up throwing down cheap tequila and gawd-awful mixes in shot glasses, and so may have been trained to think about “shots” a certain way. But shots can be wonderful: smaller packages of lovingly mixed together drinks. These shots are ideal for when you want a quick taste, for when you want to send a little special drink to that little special someone, for when you just need a rapid fling with a drink and not a full on affair, and for many other situations. More well-thought-out shots are showing on many snazzy bar menus, but the trend of better shots has really been kicked off by the new book The Best Shots You’ve Never Tried, by Andrew Bohrer.
Full disclosure: I know Andrew Bohrer (as anyone—meaning: you—who has read this blog for a while knows). I’ve had some of his drinks in my books and am a fan, as you should be, of his cuddly-curmudgeon cocktail-and-bar blog Cask Strength. But even if I wouldn’t recognize him even if I was sitting next to him at the bar, I’d still suggest picking up his new shots book cause it’s packed with great drinks, great charm, great booze history, and great drinks (said twice cause it matters most). I’m gonna highlight a few drinks from the book this week to prove my point, starting with the below number, The Wing Beneath My Wings, which will positively make you sing.
Some sad days, you look at your liqueur shelves and can’t find a thing to drink. Sometimes, this drives you to trying some new liqueurs or spirits. Sometimes, it sends you to searching other shelves and you end up trapped in a cabinet. When you find a stash of cardamom seeds in the corner of said cabinet then you end up making a cardamom liqueur (this has happened to you, right? It’s not just me. Tell me it’s not just me). When the cardamom liqueur actually turns out to be pretty darn intriguing and not bad in taste, it makes all that time trapped in cabinets worthwhile. Especially if you have a pal who then makes a good drink with the liqueur. But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, the cardamom liqueur. I call it Stella di Cardamomo, which speaks to me missing Italy and being oh so fancy. In the bottle, if looking really really closely and squinting, it looks like this:
The taste was and is (I haven’t had every last drop—yet) a bit flowery and with tons of aroma and hints of citrus, but with a kick at the end. Somewhat like one of those early days of spring that end with chilly temperatures when you’ve worn a shorts and a t-shirt combo. But you aren’t too cold cause you have someone to cuddle with. Like that. If you enjoy that sensation, and like cardamom (and let’s hope you do), then the recipe goes like this:
1/4 cup cardamom pods
1/4 teaspoon fennel seeds
2 full orange peels (so, the peels from two oranges, with as little pith as possible)
3 cups vodka
11-1/2 ounces agave syrup
1. Using a mortar and pestle, slightly bash up the cardamom and the fennel. Then add them to a large glass container that has a secure lid.
2. Add the orange peels to the container, and knock them around (just a smidge) with the cardamom and fennel.
3. Add the vodka to the container, give it a swirl or two, and then seal and place in a place that’s away from the sun. Let it sit two weeks, swirling occasionally.
4. Add the agave syrup to the container (by the by, agave is healthy. So, this has now become a healthy drink), stir, seal, and place back wherever it was before. Let sit two week, swirling occasionally.
5. Strain through cheesecloth, at least twice—until it’s clear. Store in a nice bottle and use in the Old Mom (which I’m about to talk about).
Now, back to the pal and the drink. So, I gave a little Stella di Cardamomo to my pal Emi (check this past post for a pic of her Raspberry Gin Fizz) and she whipped up an absolutely divine drink with it, a variation of sorts on the classic Old Fashioned. Yeah, I know, artsy, but the liqueur itself is artsy, and bringing the old and new boozes together is a good thing and worth praise. She went about making her new cocktail by testing this and that until she ended with this recipe:
Ice cubes
2 ounces whiskey
1/8 ounce Stella di Cardamomo
1/8 ounce simple syrup
2 dashes Fee Brothers orange bitters
1. Add a few ice cubes to an Old Fashioned or relatable glass. Add the whiskey (not sure which type she used—maybe she’ll let us know in the comments. Though she is quite busy), Stella di Cardamomo, simple syrup, and bitters. Stir well.
Okay, I think that’s how she went about it at least. There may have been a slightly different way about things, but I think that the above instructions would serve you pretty well. You could also shake everything and then strain it over a couple ice cubes, depending on how much time you have and how much exercise you need. But your results may not be quite as lovely as in this picture (also taken by Emi):
And that, adventuresome ones, is a long blog post about both a new liqueur and a new drink. One of the most wonderful things ever, perhaps.
PS: If there are any liqueur companies reading this that now want to make and sell Stella di Cardamomo, please email me now.
Well, friends, it’s been a bit of a break for the favorite cocktail-making series in the history of cocktail-making series (at least that’s what the Nielsen Company told me), the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour. I can’t say much about the break, only that the world-renowned series director and cameraman and producer of said serier is no longer allowed in Tijuana. But, but, but we’re back! And back in genius fashion as poet Ed Skoog is back in the studio, making a variation on his Dark Spirits’ favorite the Drowsy Chaperone, a new drink called the Drowsy Librarian. He also talks about Grandparents Day, Brazilians, and candy. Watch now!
Poor amaretto. So many folks these days consider it a boozy beverage drunk by college students during the hours when they (and when I, back then, between us) have more drinks than brains. But listen up: this isn’t the case. The dandy-est amaretto is something that Italians savor and so should you. It’s a treat, if you don’t mind finding brands like Gozio, Luxardo, and Disaronno, amarettos that have been made with a sense of taste and care and ingredients that are real and not chemistry experiments. The end result should be a deep almond flavor (which comes from apricot or peach pits, usually) and not overly sugary.
And while we’re dolling out pity party invites: poor summer. It’s far out the rear window now, and you’ve probably forgotten all about those days of sun and cut-offs (though a nice fall sunny day is savorable much like the good amarettos mentioned above). This drink will remind you, for a few sips at least, of those shore-bound summer day and help re-introduce amaretto as needed. The recipe’s from Ginger Bliss and the Violet Fizz, if you wondered.
Cracked ice
1-1/2 ounces dark rum
1 ounce amaretto
1/2 ounce sweet vermouth
Wide orange twist, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the rum, amaretto, and vermouth. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Twist the twist over the glass and drop it in.
A Note: I like a pretty wide twist here, so don’t fear following the same route.
This drink was named for, and was a favorite of, Count Louis Philippe Joseph de Roffignac, who escaped the revolutionary neck-chopper in France and went on to become beloved Mayor of New Orleans from 1820 to 1828. He was a hit among the hoi polloi because, among other things, he introduced street lighting, put in the original French Quarter cobblestones, and drank a lot of this drink.
The drink itself, sadly, has gone out of favor in the intervening days and nights. Probably due to a lack of one of its main ingredients: Red Hembarig. I myself, to be honest, when first writing about this drink in Good Spirits, thought one could probably sub in grenadine or some raspberry syrup for this missing German ingredient (and, honestly, you can, but the drink’s not nearly as good—really, if you do, call it something else entirely). But since then I’ve done a bit more research, and read some more research, and now believe that as the German word for raspberry is “himbeere” and that the German word for vinegar is “essig” that the proper way to have this drink is with a raspberry-vinegar concoction. Which isn’t so wacky as it may sound, as the original famous bartender, Jerry Thomas, has three recipes for the same thing in one version of his late 1880s famous Bar-Tenders Guide). And you know what? With the raspberry-vinegar combo, this drink really sings, and is a swell memorial to ol’ Mayor Louis.
Ice cubes
2 ounces Cognac
1/2 ounce Red Hembarig (or some sort of raspberry-vinegar syrup—see Note)
Chilled club soda
1. Fill a highball glass up with ice cubes. Add the cognac and the Red Hembarig-esque syrup. Stir once.
2. Top the glass off with club soda. Stir once again.
A Note: You could definitely get a bit more serious about the aging of raspberries-and-vinegar here. But, in a pinch, this recipe delivers dandy results. Start by muddling two cups raspberries a bit in a bowl, then add a cup of apple cider vinegar, and stir briefly. Let sit for, oh, overnight at least. Then add everything plus 3 cups sugar and 3/4 cup water to a saucepan. Heat to a simmer, let simmer for around 10 minutes, then take off the heat and let it cool completely in the pan. If you have time, let the whole combo sit together overnight in the fridge. Then, strain through a fine strainer (you may need a spoon to push the fun stuff through) and then cheesecloth. Keep in the fridge.
Oh golly, I love this drink. My love reaches such a magnitude that I made a Baltimore Bracer cocktail video already, but I still wanted to post the drink again. It’s just the ideal combination of tough name, sweet-in-a-good-way-meaning-with-a-kick taste, and amazing mouthfeel thanks to the egg white. I’m not even saying any more (except that the recipe’s from Ginger Bliss and the Violet Fizz). Just have the drink already. Or you’ll be sorry.*
Cracked ice
1-1/2 ounces brandy
1-1/2 ounces anisette
1 egg white, preferably organic
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with cracked ice. Add the brandy, anisette, and egg white. Shake well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass.
*Not sorry cause I’m going to get all Bruce Campbell on you or anything. I’m not really that tough. Just sorry cause you’ll be missing a dandy drink.
