Okay, I can admit it, I’m not the world’s most in-depth sports fan. I don’t have 10 fantasy leagues (or even one), and mostly I like Super Bowl parties because I see it as a day when I can eat as much cheese dip and snacks as I want to and not have anyone say “boo” about it. But darnit, even if you’re not an over-the-top sports fan, you should still be able to consume an above-average punch on the day of the big game. On any day, for that matter. And Football Punch is more than above average (it’s way, way, above, I tell ya), with a mingling of rum, sweet vermouth, and apples with a touch of orange and lemon. Just watch the effect it has on pals Jamie, Rob, Brett, Andy, and Bob in the below instructional video. And be sure to check out my socks. And then thank director and co-writer Dr. Gonzo for me by giving him another glass of punch.
Though I usually stick to the boozing here on Spiked Punch, I also wanted to put up this new vid for Monterey Cremini Quesadillas (from the Party Snacks), cause I sure don’t want you to starve while sloshing back all the Football Punch. These tasty tidbits will make you hum. Or cheer. Or hum cheerfully. Or, at least, be amazed at how I can speed up and slow down time. Really.
A drink I picked up from the classic Savoy Cocktail Book, the Oriental has become a reliable mid-week (or weekend) hit for me, making me giddy every time I take that first sip, with its balanced nature and life-saving qualities. Oh, if you don’t know, as the Savoy tells it, “In August, 1924, an American engineer nearly died of fever in the Philippines and only the extraordinary devotion of Doctor B. saved his life. As an act of gratitude, the engineer gave Doctor B. the recipe of this cocktail (the Oriental).” Hence the life-saving nature of this drink. And, isn’t it always good when a drink comes with a built-in story, to start off those bar conversations that are so memorable (if a bit hazy in hindsight here and there). I love it. If you ever want to impress that certain someone, or just goof it with pals while soaking in the pleasures of being off work for a while, then the Oriental is a good drink to order up or make up and swill up.
It doesn’t hurt if you can embellish the story a bit as well. Lead up to the fever by giving the engineer a little more history (maybe he’s your uncle? maybe he was building a bridge to save a village from extinction? maybe he wears a jaunty hat?), and bring in the jungles of the Philippines, and then the engineer slowly succumbing to the fever, with the mosquitoes buzzing around his head like little planes around King Kong, and the lights getting dimmer, and dimmer, and dimmer, the darkness creeping and the fever rising and our brave engineer (who looks a bit like George Clooney) descending into his fate . . . and then the tent flaps rise and the mysterious Doctor B walks in, surrounded by sunlight. Cut to the next scene where the engineer is making the Doctor the Oriental for the first time, and then sliding the recipe across the table as the Doctor’s eye’s gleam with thankfulness (he’s on his third Oriental by now, and the gleam is partially backed by that third round). It’s enough to make you tear up a bit. Or is that tear just because you’ve been waiting to get the recipe for so long? The following is how I make them. I tried experimenting with different orange liqueurs and such, but kept coming back to that basic curaçao, which isn’t quite as sweet (and the drink can be a tad sweet for some anyway, so it’s good to keep a handle on it). Be careful with the lime juice pour as well, as it tends to want to take over (those fresh juices are always a little, well, fresh). I even experimented with subbing in Aperol (that invigorating Italian afternooner) for the curaçao one time, and while it wasn’t a bad drink, it was different enough to where it was actually a different drink. But fun to play with.
Ice cubes
1-1/2 ounce rye
3/4 ounces sweet vermouth
3/4 ounce orange curaçao
1/2 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice
1. Fill a cocktail shaker half way with ice. Add everything. Shake well.
I love the Negroni. It’s such an accurate mingling of flavors, a demonstration of how, with a little attention to balance, the world (or at least the drinking world) can come into alignment in a manner that has to make the universe applaud. Sure, I’m going overboard a bit with my fluffy language, but that’s what a really good drink drives us to, flights of poetic fancy usually reserved for singing the praises of nymphs–or at least of the hottie at the other end of the bar.
I love the Negroni so much that I made wife Natalie and pals Jeremy and Meg track down Café Giacosa in Florence, when we were visiting Italy, which is where the Negroni was thought to have been invented by a Florentine count, Camillo Negroni, and bartender Fosco Scarselli, who was bartending at the Bar Casoni, which became Café Giacosa (that sentence is much more confusing than the drink itself). The count wanted more kick in his Americano (which is Campari, sweet vermouth, and soda, and which, if you haven’t had one, is tasty in its own right when the sun’s heat is descending on your head like warm cotton) one day after a long night of dancing the Volta, and the Negroni was born. At least that’s the story. The Café Giacosa is now owned by Italian designer Roberto Cavalli, and packed with animal print stools and I suppose oodles of style (I think we weren’t up to the normal clientele, as we were a bit sweaty and rocking shorts and t-shirts), as well as super friendly bartenders–super friendly and super attractive bartenders. My guess is that they’re models between gigs, or wannabe models, or just modelesque drink slingers. They made dandy Negronis though, which, in the end, matters more than the history, even. Drinking them there, surrounded by the faux leopard prints, in the one of the world’s finest cities, was a perfect way to while away the afternoon.
The Negroni I’m having now is being consumed at night (though who knows when I’ll actually get this post posted), and in “up” format. Sometimes I enjoy my Negronis over the rocks (when it’s a little sweaty out and I want to have some ice for accompaniment; then it’s “Negroni on the rocks, ain’t no big surprise” as the song says), but the moon is out, and I’m wearing a tux and feeling classy, and having it up seemed the right way to accent the evening. I don’t always feel that a drink should be changeable like that (and I’m sure some will turn up their noses at my even suggesting it, and that’s okay, too, cause everyone has to make those choices. And, while we’re admitting things, I’m not really wearing a tux). But, somehow, the Negroni works both ways for me.
Much in the same way as both Diana Prince and Wonder Woman work for me–one is more outwardly heroic, but the secret identity is also important, and also a key role. See, I tend to think (as I’ve mentioned before somewhere) of the Negroni as the Wonder Woman of drinks (this taking drinks into the DC universe, and showing my boundless love for the Negroni in geek form), after the Martini’s Superman and the Manhattan’s Batman. This may be giving it outlandish props (again, disagree if you want–do it in the comments though, and let me know who you’d sub in instead). The Wonder Woman TV show theme song does have the line “dressed in satin tights, fighting for your rights,” and I see the Campari as the satin tights in this situation, which I guess makes the gin the rest of the costume, and that sweet vermouth the magic lasso and the bullet-deflecting bracelets (as without it, the drink would be too metallic? Seems to make sense). And, the Negroni has an even-keeled nature (like Wonder Woman), but is still somewhat a drink of the people (attached to the world, and not belong to the universe). But I’m going far afield. Make yourself one tonight, and you’ll soon have your own theories. Here’s the recipe I used:
Ice cubes
1-1/2 ounces gin
1-1/2 ounces Campari
1-1/2 ounces sweet vermouth
Orange twist, for garnish
1. Fill a cocktail shaker halfway with ice cubes. Add everything. Shake well.
2. Strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with an orange twist.
A Variation: I heard about this from Pierre, a Florence bartender (who I met at the Hotel Casci). If you make a Negroni with Champagne or sparkling wine (you’d have to put it in after shaking and straining the Campari and vermouth, then top with the bubbly), it’s called a “Spagliato.” Which means “wrong.”
