Poor Harriet, she was so sad, as she didn’t have a partner to sip bubbly cocktails with on Valentine’s Day (it is, by the way, Valentine’s Day today, if you’d forgotten), and was thinking she’d spend the whole day alone, staring out the window, sighing as sad music played in the background. But then she came up with this very drink, with a gin base (London-dry style here I think), and lover’s favorite, the pretty Parfait Amour (which, if you don’t know, is florally with citrus and spice cuddles), a bit of fresh orange juice (brilliant Harriet knows fresh is best), a dash of Peychaud’s bitters, some bubbles in the form of prosecco, and a tiny bit of simple syrup (she wavered a bit here – you might too, and dropping the simple is okay). Once she whipped up this drink, she had offers for days from people wanting to be her valentine. But then she realized spending a day alone and not buying into the corporate holiday is actually quite lovely, and she made herself one of these and enjoyed it immensely.
We’ve had a fair amount of Fletcher Flora Cocktail Talks, he being one of the pulp mag pulpsters I enjoy, and also being one who lived in Kansas, the state I grew up in (though he lived in Leavenworth, which is sorta fitting for someone who wrote a lot about crime), so, you know, connections. Like many who wrote for the mags and pocket-sized books, Mr. Flora’s oeuvre (so to speak) covers a fairly wide spectrum, though I tend to think of him of a slight tad more literary-minded than some, a bit off the beaten track in some of his subjects and narrators and such. But normally, those books of his I’ve read, slot nicely into a wider noir-crime area. Until Skuldoggery! While there may be light crimes committed (against good taste if nothing else), it’s way more a kind of comedic farce, with nearly all of the characters being, to be kind, idiots. There is a death of a patriarch, from natural causes, a rich one naturally. But one who leaves all his money to the care of his dog. A sentiment I can get on board with! But one which his descendants and relatives, a rum lot, aren’t as happy about. Which leads to Cocktail Talk moments, especially from Uncle Homer, who liked his gin even before the death of his father, and who, below, dreams a dream I’ve dreamt before.
Of all the mourners, though, the most impeccably impressive by far was Hester. Throughout the brief ceremony, her eyes were lifted to a cotton cloud drifting slowly across a pale blue sky as if Grandfather were riding it bareback into heaven and her face was so serene and lovely that Uncle Homer, observing it, felt a faint twinge in his leathery heart and was diverted for a few seconds from his dream of a five-to-one Martini.
It is almost silly to have an intro to A Study in Scarlet Cocktail Talk – I mean, is it the most famous detective story of all? Mayyyyybe not, and maybe not even the most famous Sherlock Holmes story (Baskerville, I suppose), but it is the first appearance of the most famous detective ever, and therefore has had not only bunches upon bunches written on it, but numerous versions on screen (and maybe stage?) and take offs and all. But! It is a bit weird and worth mention that even though I love Sherlock (though I wouldn’t call myself a Sherlockian or expert Holmesian or such), I have never had a Cocktail Talk from an ACD (Arthur Conan Doyle, natch) book on the Spiked Punch before – or that I can remember! There are lots of posts. But I was re-reading A Study in Scarlet and a few other Sherlock yarns, and came across the below quote, and figured it was about time the world’s only consulting detective made a showing here – or, at least, a quote from a story featuring him made a showing.
I’ll tell it ye from the beginning,’ he said. ‘My time is from ten at night to six in the morning. At eleven there was a fight at the White Hart; but bar that all was quiet enough on the beat. At one o’clock it began to rain, and I met Harry Murcher – him who has the Holland Grove beat – and we stood together at the corner of Henrietta Street a-talkin’s Presently – maybe about two or a little after – I thought I would take a look round and see that all was right down the Brixton Road. It was precious dirty and lonely. Not a soul did I meet all the way down, though a cab or two went past me. I was a-strollin’ down, thinkin’ between ourselves how uncommon handy a four of gin hot would be, when suddenly the glint of a light caught my eye in the window of that same house. Now, I knew that them two houses in Lauriston Gardens was empty on account of him that owns them who won’t have the drains seed to, though the very last tenant what lived in one of them died o’ typhoid fever. I was knocked all in a heap, therefore, at seeing a light in the window, and I suspected as something was wrong. When I got to the door-‘
Ah, here we are, 2025. If you can believe it – a new year, and one that would have seemed impossibly futuristic to a young me. Of course, the things that appeared top of the importance list to young me (I am old, I was young, you get it) on a January 3rd at say my tenth year, well, I’d have a hard time remembering them now, outside of whispers, at best. Not to say my memory is horrible, but, you know, time passes, specifics slip. For some reason, the early days of a new year, when so many are making resolutions and looking forward, always has me looking into the past, too. And when doing such, one needs the proper cocktail accompaniment – like this very drink, An Elusive Memory, which is named appropriately, and tastes swell, too. It combines deliciously-proper London-style gin Boodles (a firm favorite of mine for making cocktails and cause the name itself is fun to say) with a few friends that at first may not seem to go together: the exquisite Meletti anisette, the legendary Lillet, and Peychaud’s intriguing Whiskey Barrel Aged bitters. Really, we’re globe-trotting here, and the mixture comes together as smoothly as a flight without turbulence. All these flavors that may appear to be clashing are actually cozy, with various notes surfacing as you sip – in a way, to bring it all together, like memories surfacing as you troll the ol’ brain pan.
Hey, it’s the day after Thanksgiving! Hope that you had a filling day (those reading who celebrate, that is), and have found some things to be thankful for (this sentiment goes to all, celebrating or not). As for me, I’m thankful that I have some leftover homemade cranberry sauce, so that I can whip up a few Gizmos, the world’s finest day-after-Thanksgiving drink. It’s mingling of delicious gin – I go London style – with leftover cranberry sauce, and a smidge of simple syrup (which, if your cranberry sauce is sweetish already, you can skip. Mine’s fairly tangy as a rule, so I sometimes like that extra sweetness here). Thanks to you for having one, and double thanks to anyone making me one of these holiday delights.
The Gizmo
Ice cubes
2-1/2 ounces gin
1 ounce homemade cranberry sauce
1/2 ounce simple syrup (optional)
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway full with ice cubes. Add the gin and cranberry sauce, and syrup if using. Shake exceptionally well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass. Drink, thankfully as you can.
Our last (for now, at least) Cocktail Talk from Craig Rice’s rollicking The Wrong Murder is a short one, but I loved the sentiment contained within it. Who doesn’t need a Martini to chase straight gin? Don’t get so liquored up that you miss The Wrong Murder Cocktail Talk Part I or Part II, to learn more about the book and the amazing author (for that matter, read past Craig Rice Cocktail Talks for even more), as I’m keeping this intro short as a shot.
On the step just below them was a bottle of gin, a shakerful of Martinis, and a few extra glasses, thoughtfully brought along in case of breakage. The Martinis, Helene’s father had explained, were there to be used as a chaser for the gin.
This jewel of a favorite of mine and many was (at least the stories tell us this) originally created by the legendary Harry Johnson in the late 1800s, featuring the recipe in his New and Improved Bartender Manual from 1900. It’s a flavorful gem of a drink, balancing herbal notes from a trio of ingredients nicely. Here and there you see it made differently, with another ingredient added or otherwise. I find the three below the most artistic rendering, and goes with I believe the original idea, aligning three ingredients with three gems (Bijou the word having jewel as one definition): gin and diamond, sweet vermouth and ruby, and green Chartreuse and emeralds.
The Bijou
Cracked ice
1 -1/2 ounces gin
3/4 ounce green Chartreuse
3/4 ounce sweet vermouth
Lemon twist, for garnish (sometimes this is skipped, and if you skip it I won’t fuss, but I feel it’s not a bad adornment)
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the gin, Chartreuse, and vermouth. Stir well.
2. Strain the mixture into a cocktail glass. Twist the twist over the glass and drop it in.
Our second Cocktail Talk from the Second Fletcher Flora Mystery Megapack comes from a story within that mighty tome of Flora-goodness (published by Wildside Press) called Kill Me Tomorrow. Before heading into a martini below, however, be sure to read the Hell Hath No Fury Cocktail Talk, to learn more about the Megapack and about Fletcher Flora – for that matter, don’t miss all the past Fletcher Flora Cocktail Talks! Then come back for the below Martini fun.
She had lifted her glass to drink again, but the action was suspended suddenly with the edge of crystal just touching her lips. Her breath stirred slightly the gin and vermouth, and her eyes, wide and still and black in the contrived dusk, stared at him across the golden surface. After a moment, with a sad little sigh, she tipped the glass and set it down again.
“Poor dear. It’s always such an ordeal going to the dentist. You’d better have a drink at once.”
“I could use one, all right.”
He signaled a waiter and asked for bourbon and water. When it arrived, he drank half of it quickly.