There are times the cover sells me on purchasing a pulp-y pocket-y book (many past Cocktail Talk posts are evidence of such). And then other times when it’s the title. Or, the description on the back cover. Death for a Hussy (by Alywin Lee Martin) has all three. The cover pic is to the left. The title, well, I just mentioned it. And the first line of the description on the back cover reads, “She was very young, very beautiful and . . . very dead!” Now that combination had me hook, line, and sinker. Not a bad little read, really. And it contained the following boozy quote, too:
“I’m one of the bartenders,” he said. “Me helper comes on at ten o’clock. The joint begins jumping then. Whata ya drinkin’?”
“Scotch with a little soda.”
Jocko mixed the drink and put it down in front of Hughes. “Haig and Haig. The real McCoy—outuva an honest-to-God pinch bottle.”
“Have one with me,” Hughes invited.
Jocko pour a tumbler half full of Haig and Haig and threw the whiskey into his mouth. The glass didn’t even touch his lips.
Well, it’s been an interesting season for the Cocktail to Cocktail Hour (in the “may you live in interesting times” fashion). With my much-publicized addiction to velvet jackets becoming public, with director, cameraman, writer, and producer Dr. Gonzo’s less-publicized adventures “down south,” and with us drinking away our sponsorship dollars, the year has spun past. And now here we are, the last episode. But what an episode it is, as we solve one of the most-debated cocktail mysteries: where did The Rusty Nail come from and why isn’t it consumed as much today as in 1952? To help us, we have a very special guest, E.P. Gooks* (or, Goose. It gets confusing), a first-rate historian who we did not pay to come on the show. Watch and learn dear ones, and be ready for the next season—it’s gonna be a doozy.**
* Any resemblance to the long-time Cocktail to Cocktail Hour favorite poet Ed Skoog is purely coincidental. All academics look alike.
**This is no way means we’re legally obligated to have another season, much less a doozy season.
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.
Those who known me well (or who have ever met me, or ever read this blog, cause honestly, I’m somewhat of an open book, and have been known to go along and along and along a bit, even though you may have a hard time beliving that now) know that I spent my formative drinking years, if not my formative cocktail-creating years, in Kansas. Which may lead you to hypothizing that this particular mix was monikered after the big city in northeastern corner of that state. But, mysteriously, it’s not. Hah! And neither is it named after the ingredients (which include scotch, some homemade cherry hazelnut bitters, and superstar and super-misprounced Italian sweet vermouth Carpano Antica). Hah! Instead, it’s named after two separate gentlemen. First, a fella named Ken who writes the Price Family Farms blog (when he has time and sunshine) and who created those homemade bitters alluded to just two sentences before this one. And secondly, a fella named Callanan (first name Dave, but don’t stalk him or anything). They both seemed to need strong drinks, and while at least the latter, Dave, strays more towards beer (don’t hold it against him as he’s still quite rad), I figured neither would turn down having a drink that boasted a serious wallop of blended scotch with the edges slightly sanded by the stitch-sweet and herbally Carpano and the also-a-hint-cuddly-but-boastin -nutty-goodness-bitters named after them. Who, in their right mind, in Kansas or anywhere else would turn that down though? No-one in their right mind, that’s who.
Cracked ice
2 ounce blended scotch (I’ve been enjoying the famous Famous Grouse here)
1 ounce Carpano Antica
2 healthy dashes cherry hazelnut bitters
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add all the ingredients. Stir well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass.
A Note: Want your own cherry hazelnut bitters? Well, go on over to Price Family Farms and beg for the recipe.
A Second Note: Feel this absolutely has to have a garnish? Try a really good brandied or whiskied cherry if you can find one.
I suppose I should in the below attribution attribute this quote to Patrick Dennis, as he wrote the book House Party under the nom de plume Virginia Rowans. And Dennis was an interesting chap, the author of the fabulously successful novel (and then film) Auntie Mame and the only author to have three books on the New York Times bestseller list at once. And then his books stopped selling and he ended up being a butler (partially by choice, as I guess he liked to buttle) for Ray Kroc, the founder of McDonalds. Really–as I said, interesting chap. And as his real name was actually Edward Everett Tanner III and as he decided to write the effervescently fun House Party as Mrs. Rowans, I’m sticking with her as the attributed author. He’d probably appreciate it.
Darling, would you run out and buy a bottle of Champagne? I can’t entertain as shabbily as this and I’ve spent everything I have buying vulgar things like Scotch and gin. I daren’t even cash another check.
Summer has finally it seems found its way to Seattle, and as hemlines go up with the increase in temperature, the amount of tall bubbly refreshing drink consumption also needs to go up. Sadly, I’m just looking out the window dreaming of the above right now (and while I meant dreaming of refreshing drinks, you can dream about them with rising hemlines if you want. I’m sure not gonna tell you not to), but when I move from dream to reality, I’m starting with a Foppa (the below recipe is from Dark Spirits, proving that the darker base spirits can be as useful in summer as in winter).
I found the Foppa in an Italian book called Cocktails: Classici & Esotici (Demetra, 2002) and love how it mingles ingredients from all over the globe: Scotch whisky, amaretto, dry vermouth (sometimes known as French vermouth), and ginger ale combine to become a lovely world tour of refreshment in a glass. Use it to break the heat and, after a couple, as a spur to taking those hemlines even higher. I mean, it is hot outside.
Ice cubes
1 1/2 ounces Scotch
1/2 ounce amaretto
1/2 ounce dry vermouth
Chilled ginger ale
1. Fill a highball glass three-quarters full with ice cubes. Add the Scotch, amaretto, and vermouth. Stir with a long spoon.
2. Top the glass off with ginger ale. Stir again.
A Note: The original recipe here suggests single-malt Scotch, but I like using a nice blended version, which I think works well with the other ingredients (something like Dewar’s is a dandy choice). They also suggest using Di Saronno Amaretto, which traces its secret recipe back to 1525. A good suggestion, I think.
This is A.J. Rathbun, reporting. A giant bottle of Haig scotch has been seen attacking buildings in the downtown of a major metropolitan area. It seems the bottle is about 50 feet tall, and full of scotch. No one has yet been hurt, but many are drunk, and productivity in this area in down. The bottle of Haig hasn’t been too specific about why it is attacking, what its aims are, and if any potential partners in destruction (a giant bottle of sweet vermouth, or a giant bottle of club soda, or gasp!, a giant collection of giant ice cubes, haven’t been sighted, but rumors are flying) are on the horizon, though it is mumbling about being “the most mixable, hoistable, and enjoyable taste in Scotch whisky, damnit.” Who will save this major metropolitan area? I’d say Iron Man, but dang, he’s already been fighting a bottle of Canadian whiskey, and from this picture, losing. Who can possibly defeat the giant bottle of Haig? Who?
I don’t usually think of my brown liquors (such as those in Dark Spirits—and yes, that was a blatant book shout out) in kissy-face terms. I mean, they’re often easy going down, and flavorful, and delicate in their whiskey-scotch-brandy-darkrum-etc way, but I still rarely utilize “smooching,” or “tongue-wrestling,” or “suck-face,” or “making out” when describing them, or even more rarified terms like “lip locking.” Which is dumb of me. Cause I’ve always thought kissing drunk people (only tipsy wife Nat for many years, of course) was dandy. And if they’ve been bourbon-ing or dark-spirit-ing, even better (as long as no smoking is involved, cause kissing a smoker is like kissing an ashtray’s ass). That (all that, rambling around) may be why I dig the Inver House Scotch ad below. Sexy, isn’t it? Besides the facts that her neck was probably broken to get that angle, and that Inver House isn’t as adored as it once was (at least it doesn’t seem to be among drinkers I know). Think of this ad next time you’re kissing, and then tell that favorite him/her, “You’re soft as Scotch.” I’ll bet you get even more kisses. Or slapped. One of the two.
There are times the cover sells me on purchasing a pulp-y pocket-y book (many past Cocktail Talk posts are evidence of such). And then other times when it’s the title. Or, the description on the back cover. Death for a Hussy (by Alywin Lee Martin) has all three. The cover pic is to the left. The title, well, I just mentioned it. And the first line of the description on the back cover reads, “She was very young, very beautiful and . . . very dead!” Now that combination had me hook, line, and sinker. Not a bad little read, really. And it contained the following boozy quote, too:
