Tequila is sometimes given the seasonal shaft. Folks can tend to think of it (except those true tequila fanatics I suppose) only in the hotter months, and only in chilly Margaritas and the occasional other cold number. This means from, oh, October through late February in many areas tequila just doesn’t come to mind for cocktail and drink lovers. I myself may have fallen into this tequila trap a time or two. However, the other night I found myself both craving tequila and freezing (freezing in Seattle means the temperature is down to the mid-30s. Yeah, we’re wimps). “So,” I thought to myself, “what can I do to remedy the situation?” And what I did was come up with the below drink, which I’m calling the Saguaro Steamer:
The funny (both sad funny and just funny) part of it all is that tequila goes smashingly in a hot drink. Thinking about it, it just makes wonderful sense. Tequila tends to be smoky and the flavors mingle well with the steam and hot water. Amazingly well, really. But a little balance and tang and sweet were needed, and that’s where the other ingredients came into play. To add even more flavor and take the edges off, I used the new-ish Mariposa agave nectar liqueur, which mingles agave nectar and 100-percent agave tequila and premium vodka, and which has a floral smoky loveliness going on. Then I added some orange juice (another hot drink casualty that’s surprisingly good here) and topped it all off with the top hot drink topping, nutmeg. I strongly suggest this combo if you want to update your hot drink repertoire and give tequila its due year round.
The Saguaro Steamer
2 ounces Reposado tequila (I used Casa Noble and it was awesome. As it always is)
3/4 ounces Mariposa agave nectar liqueur
3/4 ounces freshly squeezed orange juice
3 ounces pretty hot water (not boiling, but close)
Freshly grated nutmeg
1. Add the tequila, Mariposa, and orange juice to a double-walled Bodum glass or other heat-okay receptacle. Stir.
2. Carefully add the hot water to the mix. Stir again, carefully but thoroughly.
3. Grate a little nutmeg on the top. Make that “ahhh” sound you make when it’s cold out and you’ve just had something deliciously warm.
It’s hard, in a way, to talk about flowers in November. At least in Seattle (where I reside except on those days when I’m traveling the world, spreading the gospel of good drinks, good cheer, and good spirits) where the flowers have taken a vacation. Seems they don’t like the rain. Which means it’s an absolutely fabulous time to have a drink that is flowering, like this one. See, it combines St-Germain elderflower liqueur with Pierre Ferrand Cognac. Flower + grape. Flowering Grape! Get it? And now you see another reason why these are so tasty in dreary ol’ fall. You can have a bunch of them and not feel weighed down at all.
For many moons, our country has been deficient. I’m not sure what we did, exactly (though I can guess—thank you very much Kermit the Frog), but for years we irritated the find people of Sweden. This led to many sad things: a lack of tall blonds, a distinct problem with meatballs, and, most tragically, the complete absence of Swedish Punsch in every single bar from east to west. Swedish Punsch once was a staple of bar shelves and cocktails and home liquor cabinets. With a base of the sugar-cane based spirit Batavia Arrack combined with other flavorings, it had a taste all its own and a devoted following (I’m sort-of guessing on this last point, as most who had it when it was available way back when are sadly now at that big bar in the afterlife). And then some time after Prohibition it vanished. Why! Why! Why!
Well, I certainly don’t know. But, the main point, and what’s causing me to not shake my fist at the sky, is that it’s back and you should become a fan. I’ve recently been dipping into a bottle of Kronan Swedish Punsch and it’s darn delicious. It boasts a seriously yummy toffee-molasses-and-spice taste, with some smokiness smudged in for good measure. The story is that in Sweden it’s had warm with pea soup. Hmm, sounds great (please, everyone agree—we don’t want to irritate the Swedes again). It’s also great in cocktails, including one called the Astor that I found first in the rightly revered Old Waldorf Astoria Bar Book by Albert Crockett. Try it whydontcha.
Halloween, friends and neighbors (especially those neighbors who currently—it’s October as I write—have tombstones or spiders in the yard, all kinds of pumpkins around, maybe a skeleton or two, and more spooky stuff), is almost here. Which means I’m un-burying my favorite eerie fall cocktail, the Sleepy Hollow. I’ve written about it before hither and yon, but always like to bring it up this time of year, cause it’s delicious and matches the holiday so well. Just don’t lose your head over it!
1. Add the mint, lemon juice, and simple syrup to a mixing glass or cocktail shaker. Using a muddler or hefty wooden spoon, muddle well.
2. Fill the cocktail shaker or glass halfway full with ice cubes. Add the gin and apricot liqueur. Shake as if you heard the horseman’s hoof beats coming.
3. Strain into a large cocktail glass. Garnish with a sprig of mint and a swizzle stick topped with a plastic head.
Also, if you want to see how to make the drink visually, then I strong suggest you watch the below video—if you’re not too scared, that is.
This is quite a continental moment here on the Spiked Punch. First, tonight, like I usually do on the continent, I ate too much. Then, to combat my over-indulging, I had a healthy dose of Elisir di Salvia, a digestif I made from a recipe taken out of a simply-named book, Tisane, Liquori and Grappe. I have no idea who it’s by, but it’s from the Demera Company and is Italian (which means I translated the recipe. Yeah, I do everything for you. But you deserve it). I picked it up in a little tucked away bookstore in Sansepolcro’s historic center, called Arca Dei Libri. Nice place, really. Only blocks from the can’t-miss-it restaurant Fiorintino. Anywho, Elisir di Salvia is a curious mix of stuff, and the taste reflects it: herb and spice sweetness at the beginning, mellowing Marsala middle, totally different backend flavor and kick. At first, I wasn’t sold, but now I think it’s a weird kind of genius drink. And yes, I felt better after having it after eating too much. Oh, when in the jar cooling its heels, it looks like this:
Elisir di Salvia
1 liter Marsala
1 cup fresh sage leaves
1 orange rind
2 cups high proof vodka or grain alcohol
1/2 cup warm water
1.6 cups sugar
1. Add the Marsala, sage, and orange to an airtight glass container airtight. Let sit for 10 days to two weeks. Shake at least once a day.
2. Dissolve the sugar in the water to make a syrup, let cool, and then add it and the vodka.
3. After 24 hours of rest (or a week, if you’re lazy like me), filter and transfer to a glass bottle. Take 1 shot from the liqueur in all cases of difficult digestion.
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.
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.
