Not the "chirp, tweet" kind.

I managed to get to a great liquor store in my area, one that has the widest selection of amari (bitter liqueurs, traditionally Italian) that I've found anywhere nearby. And in lieu of getting a $29 bottle of Campari, even though I really wanted to get one, I opted instead for a little more than kin and at a price more kind...Luxardo makes a similar product called, simply, Bitter. Both Campari and Luxardo Bitter (and their lower-proof cousin, Aperol, which is also owned by the Campari group, now) are bitter apertif liqueurs, that have a lot of flavorings in them, lots of herbs, and a noticeable bitter and sweet orange note. The most famous drink that's made with Campari (or its substitutes) is a Negroni; equal measures of gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari. It's good, but I tend to find sweet vermouth to be a little cloying sometimes. And so I nosed around a little more and found this relative. Not quite 1:1:1 ratios of the three ingredients, it's named, I presume, for its color, and most likely for the clergy who wear it. Less likely is the notion that it's named for the bird. Though red, the avian Cardinal is not italian and likely does not drink. I add a dash of orange bitters just to bring out that note a little more in my Luxardo Bitter.

The Cardinal Cocktail

1 oz London dry gin
3/4 oz dry vermouth
3/4 oz Luxardo Bitter/Campari/Aperol
dash of orange bitters

stir all well with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

The Bitter is certainly bitter...there's a note in there that recalls Fernet Branca...but it's also sweet, and citrusy, and refreshing. It's a surprisingly subtle drink, and one that I think will fare very well over the summer, as temperatures rise and the sun beats down and turns my skin the color of Campari. Pass the lidocaine.

Mixology Monday XLIII: Vermouth

Yes friends, it's already time for another MxMo, and October's theme is the fortified wine we know and love; vermouth, and is hosted by fellow lush Vidiot over at Cocktailians. Vidiot says:

Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to present a delectable vermouth cocktail for us all to drool over. Sweet/Italian or dry/French vermouth are fair game of course, as are quinquina, aperitif wines like Pineau des Charentes, or for that matter any fortified, aromatized wine such as Lillet (red or white), or Dubonnet (ditto.)

So, I figured one of my favorite drinks, with a little rejiggering, would fit that bill quite nicely.

First of all, I've been remiss, in my previous Mixology Monday posts, in thanking the booze bloggers that have hosted them previously, so let me correct that now: Vidiot, Chris, Amelia and RumDood, thanks for taking so much time to nudge and massage my half-drunken posts into a valid submission. You all have made me feel most welcome in the MxMo world. And now, on to the hooch.

You may remember my take on the Manhattan, the Golden Manhattan, which I named for it's reflecting the "Golden Ratio," a+b:a::a:b. That is, 2 parts whiskey to 1 part vermouth, and 2 parts dry vermouth to 1 part sweet. Normally, I like to make it with rye whiskey, but I stumbled across a new bourbon at the store today, and it was marked down by $9, so feeling frugal, I figured I'd grab a bottle and give it a whirl. And then, I also received some new bitters in the mail today, from Urban Moonshine and thought that they might a nice and novel addition to my drink as well; plus they came in nifty little sprayers, so that upped the coolness factor. Believing that the brands matter in this concoction, I'm going to name names (but not in a Elia Kazan sort of way), but feel free to jigger to your liking and taste if you want to. And so I present you with my contribution to Mixology Monday XLIII;

The Golden Manhattan (Redux)

3 parts Jefferson's Very Small Batch Kentucky Bourbon
1 part Noilly Prat dry vermouth
1/2 part Noilly Prat sweet vermouth
3 sprays (or dashes) Urban Moonshine Maple bitters (divided)
1 spray (or dash) Urban Moonshine Citrus bitters

Combine bourbon, vermouth, and two sprays/dashes of Maple bitters in mixing glass with ice, stirring well to combine. Strain into Double Old Fashioned glass, add one spray/dash each of Maple and Citrus bitters.

The distillers of Jefferson's bourbon say that it's got a nose of vanilla and peach, and a taste that's smooth and sweet, with hints of citrus, and that's not far off. It pairs incredibly well with the hint of maple from the bitters, and the always excellent vermouths from Noilly Prat really balance the drink, mellowing the often harsh burn from the bourbon. This is an awesome variation on my traditional way of making a Manhattan, a little sweeter and more nuanced than the rye-based version, and definitely one I'd like to return to.

It's worth noting, I feel, that I paid for all these name brand liquors out of pocket. Just in case anyone's worried about me getting kickbacks...I'm far too small a blog to be sent free product. In the off chance that it ever happens, I will indicate that the product was sent as for promotional consideration. I will, however, be honest in my reviewing of it...if it tastes like fetid dingo's kidneys, I will say as much.

With a fanfare of trumpets, I proudly present drink #100

Wow. 100 cocktails posted. It took just over 6 months to get here...I'm not sure if that's too slow or too quick.

I promised you a special ingredient for drink number one-hundred, and I shall deliver. I've been itching for months, nay, years, to sample this one, and at every turn, I found it too expensive, too hard to procure, too poorly reviewed a brand to sample it. But then, glory and trumpets, Mr. Frodo, my favorite local distiller, Great Lakes Distillery, obtained FDA and ATF approval, and now I have it. What is it, you may ask?

Absinthe.

Yes, I have tamed the Green Fairy. Well, not really. Turns out multitudes of nations have had what I like to call "cranio-rectal insertion disorder*" when it came to Absinthe for nearly a hundred years. You see, they seemed to think that absinthe made you crazy, because of an ingredient that was contained therein. Grande wormwood, a bittering and flavoring agent in absinthe, was widely regarded as a psychoactive substance. It made good men mad and mad men worse. It contained thujone, which the devil used to slick his beard. As it turns out, while thujone isn't exactly sunshine and daisies if consumed straight, absinthe contains thujone in such small amounts as to be damn near non-existent. Yes, the US government, and governments around the world, decided to stamp out a non-existent problem by making the whole thing illegal, with little to no fact checking. Gee, that's never happened before. *cough-Prohibition* *cough-cough-hemp-cough*

Excuse me. Something in my throat. So sorry.

Anyway, my local distillery has made absinthe, and as soon as I learned it was available, I asked my awesome local grocery if they could procure some for me. They did, and I now have two 375ml bottles of Amerique 1912 Absinthe Verte. GLD also makes an Absinthe Rouge, flavored with hibiscus, among other botanical, but I haven't found those nearby yet. Perhaps when I finally tour the distillery I can procure a bottle.

There are dozens of classic drink recipes that call for absinthe. Many of them acknowledge that a decent pastis can substitute, with somewhat inferior results. However, I decided to go with a drink that has only three ingredients to introduce this spirit, so that the flavors can be easily discerned. It really helps to make this with ingredients that are familiar to you, so that you can pick out just how much flavor absinthe brings to the party, even in small amounts. So here is our 100th drink:

The Absinthe Martini

2 oz good quality gin (I used Rehorst, from Great Lakes Distillery, natch**)
1/2 oz dry vermouth (I used my workhorse, Noilly Prat)
1/2 tsp absinthe

Build over ice in mixing glass, stirring well to combine. Strain into chilled cocktail glass.

I figured I couldn't go wrong pairing two spirits from the same distillery, and I was definitely right. The sharp and sweet flavor from the ginseng and sweet basil in the Rehorst gin pairs so nicely with the anise notes of their Amerique 1912 that you just wanna lay down and cry. The botanicals of all three ingredients mesh in a wonderful way, making the whole drink sing with a slightly acerbic character that I just love.

While the Amerique 1912 doesn't louche (cloud up) as much as many other types of pastis do, flavorwise it's such a wonderfully balanced spirit that it's general transparency is easily overlooked. I can't wait to feature absinthe in more drinks along the way. (I can tell you that using it as a rinse in a classic Sazerac is a thing of beauty.)

So with this exotic ingredient under our belt, it is my hope that you've enjoyed reading and experimenting with me, and that you'll stick with me as I ease on down the road. Here's to another 100 drinks, however long it takes to get there...the company's the great thing on a trip like this, and I'm glad you all have come along.

* - that is to say, they had their collective heads up their collective asses.

** - Definitely not a commercial...that was a declaration of love.

Appropriately, it's a short drink...

Tonight I feature a new ingredient for the blog, one that'd read about for months on end, but until lately, have not tried. It's called Dubonnet, and like vermouth, it's a fortified wine. Unlike vermouth, however, it contains quinine, which makes it a quinquina. Among the fortifying spices and flavorings in Dubonnet Rouge, the red variety that's by far the most common, are chamomile, cinnamon, orange zest, and unroasted coffee beans. (I must tip my hat to Tim, of the previously-mentioned Ginger Bitters blog for turning me on to the existence of this drink in the first place, as well as his helpful information on Dubonnet. If all bars were like the New Zealand bar he manages, the drinking scene would be vastly improved. As ever, Cheers, Tim!)

So, this drink is sort of a kissing cousin to the Fifth Avenue Variation I mixed up last month; gin based, has a little Fernet Branca backing up the fortified wine, but instead of dry vermouth, we've got a sweeter Dubonnet taking up that role, and some citrus is added with the inclusion of orange curaçao (I used a good triple-sec, a.k.a. white curaçao, but Cointreau or Grand Marnier could work, as well.) Furthermore, this drink is first and foremost a gin drink...there's four times as much gin as the other ingredients combined. Despite that, there's still a remarkable complexity to it... Here's how it's made:

The Napoleon Cocktail

60 ml (about 2 ounces) London dry gin
5 ml (about 1 teaspoon) Dubonnet rouge
5 ml (about 1 teaspoon) Fernet Branca
5 ml (about 1 teaspoon) orange curaçao/triple-sec/Cointreau/Grand Marnier

Combine all ingredients with ice, stir well to combine, and strain into a chilled cocktail glass or coupe.

Thanks to the properties of the Fernet and the Dubonnet, this is really an ideal after-dinner drink, for calming down the stomach and kicking the digestion of the meal into gear, a traditional digestif/digestivo. As I said it's a remarkably complex drink, but a very enjoyable one. Dubonnet is remarkably inexpensive, so go get a bottle and start playing around with it.

Just a quick one.

It's less common now, but for years, there were cocktails galore named after celebrities...some because the stars in question actually ordered them, some just to cash in on the identity. I've had a few of these (the Bogie was one I've already featured, the Mary Pickford may come later) and some are actually quite tasty. That's not to say that you should just run out and drink celebrity-christened cocktails willy-nilly...can you imagine what a Paris Hilton would be like without shuddering and scheduling an STD test? I certainly can't.

But tonight's libation is one that comes by its name honestly. It was actually ordered by the star in question, though you probably haven't heard of her. Her name was Vera Rush, and though she doesn't appear on IMDb, she was a silent film actress, who featured in such works as The Graven Image and Intemperance. It's quite a simple thing, as drinks go, but eminently quaffable.

Vera Rush

2 oz dark Jamaican rum (Myers's is traditional, but Gosling's, Coruba or even Cruzan Blackstrap can be used with no ill effect)
1/2 oz unsweetened pineapple juice

Pour rum over ice in an Old-Fashioned glass, and float the pineapple juice on top.

A simple drink from a simpler age. Still tasty, still classy, and still simple to order, even if your bartender gives you a blank stare when you mention it by name. Just order it as David Wondrich, of Esquire Magazine et al, informs us Vera herself did; "Myers's on the rocks with a splash of pineapple juice." Tip tip hurrah.

I have found a new spirit!

I've been looking for Fernet Branca for a while now, as it's a rather esoteric italian amaro, or bitter liqueur. It's intended as a digestif, and has a ton of secret ingredients, which, according to the website, include chamomile, wild aloe, bitter orange, myrrh, iris, gentian, European lime-tree, cinnamon, galangal, and saffron. The most dominant taste, however, is menthol, but it's sort of a sweet-bitter thing going on overall. Well, after hearing about it from all sorts of cocktail bloggers, most notably Rick over at Kaiser Penguin, who positively loves the stuff, I decided a few weeks back that if I could find it, I'd buy it.

Well, I found it. And I made a very old drink with it. It was created at the American Bar at the Savoy Hotel in London by the first bartender of renown at the Savoy, and indeed, one of the first female bartenders of renown anywhere, Ada Coleman. It was made for Sir Charles Hawtrey, Noel Coward's mentor, who took a sip and exclaimed, "By Jove! That is the real hanky-panky!" And thus the Hanky Panky was born. Now, let it be said that at that time in England, hanky-panky did not mean sexual tomfoolery. No, it was used to connote black magic, sleight of hand, legerdemain...that sort of thing. So the black magic comes in the combining of three unlikely ingredients into one delightful beverage.

Hanky Panky

1 3/4 oz gin
3/4 oz sweet vermouth
2 dashes (I used just under 1/2 tsp) Fernet Branca

Stir all with ice, strain into a chilled glass, and squeeze a small bit of orange zest over the drink.

It really makes for a most unusual cocktail, but a good one. I can see how Sir Charles deemed it black magic. The orange really makes it, somehow tempering the strange, herbal character of the Fernet, and blending it with the gin and vermouth. I don't know where that pixie came from, but I like her pixie drink!

Addendum: For what it's worth, here's a fun little article from Wayne Curtis (author of "And a Bottle of Rum: A History of the New World in Ten Cocktails") that he wrote for the Atlantic about Fernet Branca. I am now sipping it straight, and it's everything he says it is. I find myself growing to like it, though! The Bitter Beginning, from the November 1998 issue of "The Atlantic."

The one with a bad visual pun...

Every now and then, it's nice to revisit the classics... the drinks that elevated men from saloon-minders to barkeepers, from mixers to artisans. There are several examples of this...the Old Fashioned, the Gimlet, the Daiquiri, but one of the simplest of drinks is a cobbler. A Cobbler is basically a cocktail without the bitters, and with added sugar. It's usually made with cracked or shaved ice, but sometimes lump, and it's frequently nothing more than the spirit of choice, sugar (or a sweet spirit), ice, and fruit to garnish. Tonight, since it's unseasonably cold here in the Midwest (I'm currently at 59ºF in mid-July!) I opted to go with a whiskey cobbler. Here's how I made mine:

Whiskey Cobbler

1 bar spoon simple syrup
1 scant bar spoon triple sec
lump ice (or ice cubes, in my case)
2 oz rye whiskey (or bourbon)
2 oz seltzer
cherries to garnish

In a 9-ounce glass or so, combine the syrup and triple sec (or just stir 2 tsp of superfine sugar with a splash of soda water). Add ice, add your rye, stir gently, and add the seltzer. Garnish.

And that's it. All the soda and sugar and triple sec to is make the spirit not quite so powerful...but it's still very much the dominant flavor in the drink, just tempered a bit. It's a good drink to use a liquor you're partial to in, as you can really appreciate some of the more subtle characteristics that can get lost to the burn of the spirit at full strength. Definitely one to experiment with.

Come let's mix where Rockefellers walk with sticks or um-ber-ellers in their mitts...

And I'm back! The show wrapped on Sunday, we struck the set immediately afterwards, and the head of the theatre group and the director said they got nothing but raves from the audience. My bruises are healing (it was a rather physical show for me, I was stuffed under couches and fell off balconies) and now, I'm ready to get back to the blog! I do feel, however, that it benefitted from not trying to get something posted every night (or at least that *I* benefitted from not having to get something posted every night) so I'm going to be trying the "posting several times a week" thing for a while longer. Don't worry, I haven't lost interest in this thing, I'm just trying to pace myself, like any good drunk.

I obtained, late last week, a copy of the new, Revised & Expanded Deluxe (Soopa-Genius!) Edition of Ted Haigh's invaluable Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails: From the Alamagoozlum to the Zombie and Beyond - 100 Rediscovered Recipes and the Stories Behind Them and I nearly wept unashamedly when I opened it and began to read. This book is pretty much my entire cocktail philosophy encapsulated between two covers: good spirits aren't cheap, but good drinks don't need a lot of them. The trend is towards goldfish-bowl sized vessels of cheap booze in garish colors, but classically, the drinks were small (usually no more than 4 oz) and well crafted. If you drink to savor rather than to get verschnickered, I truly believe you'll get a lot more out of your liquor-buying dollar.

And on the subject of dollars, that provides me with a nice segue to tonight's drink, the Park Avenue cocktail. The very name conjures up notions of gold-plated sidewalks, gem-encrusted parking meters, and small yappy-type dogs being walked by portly matrons. Happily, the ingredients for this cocktail are pretty easily come by.

Park Avenue Cocktail

2 oz gin
3/4 oz pineapple juice
3/4 oz sweet vermouth
2 teaspoons orange curaçao

Shake all with ice, strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

It's a strangely tropical drink, for being named after a NYC locale...Ted Haigh suggests it was switched at birth with the Palm Beach cocktail (gin, sweet vermouth and grapefruit juice, rather more bracing than balmy in character). That said, it's still a damn fine drink, and one that I'd like to see more of, rather than the "Blue BahamaMama MojitoTiniRita™", or whatever they're calling the latest liquor-laden travesty they're trying to foist upon an unsuspecting public.

Since I can't attend Tales of the Cocktail, I'll just have one of these.

In a few weeks, cocktail enthusiasts and historians will descend on New Orleans en masse to attend "Tales of the Cocktail," a five-day love letter to all things mixological. Being the poor boy I am, I will not be attending, though I'll be following the events that are summarized online with a great deal of interest and professional jealousy.

Meanwhile, I decided to mix up a drink of old New Orleans tonight, the Sazerac. It's gone through a few changes over the years...first made with cognac, but now more frequently with rye whiskey. Absinthe was used to coat the inside of the glass, though for a while, until it was legal again, a mixture of Green Chartreuse and Pernod were often used, or a New Orleans spirit called Herbsaint. And Peychaud's bitters were always a key ingredient.

Now, I don't have any absinthe yet, nor Herbsaint, nor Green Chartreuse, so what I've prepared tonight may charitably be termed a "poor man's Sazerac," but despite that, it's still possible to glimpse the combination of flavors that makes this libation so interesting.

Sazerac

1/4 oz absinthe or pastis, to rinse
1 bar spoon simple syrup
2 dashes Peychaud's bitters
2 oz rye whiskey

In a mixing glass, over ice, build the syrup, bitters and rye, stirring to combine. In an Old Fashioned glass, swirl the absinthe/pastis to coat the inside of the glass, discarding the excess (into your mouth is not a bad disposal method). Strain the syrup/bitters/rye mixture into the Old Fashioned glass, and garnish with a lemon twist.

The Pernod imparts a top note of licorice, but it's almost smelled rather than tasted in the drink. The sweetness of the bitters, the spiciness of the rye and the citrus zing of the lemon twist all vie for attention, but in the end, they all blend into an impossible to describe taste, but one that would be very easy to grow attached to. Three thumbs up for this drink, and, should I manage to procure Herbsaint or buck up and buy a bottle of absinthe, I will gladly revisit this to see how the ideal ingredients further enhance this drink.

(Special Note: in the photo below, you will see that there's a strip of lemon zest in the glass. For the love of all that is good and proper, don't drop it into your drink! Just squeeze it over the drink to express the oils and then toss the peel. Learn from my mistakes!)

Yellow journalism, red drink.

William Randolph Hearst was a newspaper magnate who never let the facts stand in the way of a good story. He's got a drink named after him already, though, so we'll move along. One of his enduring legacies, however, was "yellow journalism," wherein legitimate news was soft-pedaled, and attention-grabbing, sensational headlines were elevated to above the fold. Perhaps the most egregious example was how the unverified (and as yet unproven) assertion that the USS Maine exploded in Havana harbor due to a bomb or torpedo, an assertion which helped to touch off the Spanish-American War. A popular rallying cry became "Remember the Maine, to hell with Spain!" Not terribly clever, but catchy. So much so, it seems, that "Remember the Maine" became the name of a cocktail. And it tastes pretty good, too.

Remember the Maine

2 oz Bourbon whiskey (or rye, which I prefer)
3/4 oz sweet vermouth
1/4 oz Cherry Heering
dash of Pernod
2 dashes of Angostura bitters

Stir all with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Between the spiciness of the rye, the sweetness of the vermouth, the back of the throat tartness of the Heering, and the anise notes of the Pernod, you've got a lot going on in this drink. Happily, the elements work pretty harmoniously, as long as you don't overdo the Pernod. I wouldn't make a habit of drinking this every day, but it's one to keep in mind for an occasional tipple, especially when you want something a little different.

No, this is not a post about energy sources...

I will be the first to admit, I have absolutely no idea exactly what this drink's name means. I mean, I can guess at part of it, but the other half? Not a clue. Meet the Corn 'N Oil. Blackstrap rum, lime juice, and falernum. Tastes and smells almost like a molasses cookie, but better. And alcoholic. The blackstrap rum gives makes it look like crude oil, I suppose, but I've no idea where the "Corn" part of it comes in to play. Despite that, it's tasty. And simple (provided you've got your falernum on hand, of course).

Corn 'N Oil

3 oz Cruzan Blackstrap Rum (any blackstrap or dark rum will work, but for this application, I think Cruzan's tastes the best. Yes, I've tried several others)
1 oz falernum
juice of 1/2 lime

build over ice, stirring briskly to combine.

It really looks intimidating, but a sniff and a taste will set you at ease. This is easily one of my favorite drinks, just because of all the spiciness going on in it, between the dark molasses character of the rum and the spice cupboard appeal of the falernum. I love this one.

Okay, now I'm really confused.

I put a poll out in the field earlier this afternoon, and since two people answered it, I can call it unanimous. Tonight's drink is the Singapore Sling. Easy enough.

Which one, though?

There's more recipes out there for the Singapore Sling than you can shake a swizzle stick at. Some with club soda, some without. Some with citrus juice, some saying if you add citrus it's no longer classified as a sling. Some with gin, some with brandy, some with both. It's very perplexing. So I'm going to mix up one version of it tonight and perhaps revisit its variants in the future. Tonight's version is the one David Wondrich takes on in "Esquire Drinks":

Singapore Sling (Wondrich version)

2 oz London dry gin
1/2 oz Cherry Heering cherry brandy
1/2 oz Bénédictine

Stir all well with 2-3 ice cubes, pour unstrained into highball glass, and fill to taste with club soda (or ginger beer, if you're of a mind to).

In this one, I taste the gin more than anything. The Heering and the Bénédictine round it out a little bit, and give it some depth, but it's really relegated to the background. Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad drink, but it kind of lacks something. I'll be very interested to try some of the other versions and see what they bring. But first, I'll need to get a new bottle of Bénédictine, as this drink took the last few drops from my miniature "fun size" bottle (and since when is getting less of something "fun?"). Fortunately, my friendly neighborhood liquor emporium has a half size bottle that won't break the bank. Tune in next time, true believers!

Hey gang, long time no see!

So...I'm into rehearsals, and the play is going to be awesome. But you're not here for news about my theatrical career, you're here for drinks! And to oblige, I'm offering a tiki drink, from Don the Beachcomber's vault, way back in 1941. It's called the Test Pilot, and it's made as follows:

Test Pilot

1/2 oz fresh lime juice
1/2 oz falernum (use a scant 1/2 oz if homemade like mine)
1 tablespoon Cointreau
dash of Angostura bitters
1/8 teaspoon Pernod
3/4 oz light Puerto Rican or Cuban (-style) rum (I cheated this a bit and used Pyrat XO Reserve)
1 1/2 oz dark Jamaican rum (cheated this a little, too, and used Gosling's Black Seal)

Blend all with 1 cup of crushed ice for 5 seconds, then pour it into a double old-fashioned glass. Add a little more crushed ice to fill, and garnish as you like, though a cherry is pretty much all you need.

Now I know you're all going "a blender drink?!" And usually I'm not crazy about blender drinks, because they make noise and are a pain to clean up after, and generally imply that you're going to take inferior ingredients and make a liquor-filled smoothie out of them. However, it is possible to have good blender drinks, and the Test Pilot is a stellar example of one. First off...it's COLD. Which is always good. Secondly, you've gotten a little bit more air in there, and made some of the more inaccessible flavors open up a tiny bit. Third, you've got tiny bits of ice melting all at once, helping to dilute the drink...and it needs it...there's a fair amount of liquor in this puppy. The bitters and Pernod sort of skulk around like good little henchmen, making you aware that something's there, but not really identifying themselves. The two rums, the falernum, the Cointreau and the lime all chime in at various points, making for a tremendously complex but ultimately awesome drink. Do take it out for a spin, won't you?

"Son, I do say, son! Fetch me down my hangin' rope!"

Much umbrage and discord has resulted from the debate over the methodology of the proper mixing of a Mint Julep, but nearly all of it boils down to this question: do you muddle the mint prior to adding the bourbon or leave it unmuddled? Well, I've decided to solve this Gordian Knot in my own way, by offending everyone and deconstructing the whole damn thing into my take on it. My experimental technique (kids, wear your safety goggles!) does away with any mint leaves in the drink at all, and no granulated sugar, either! I made a special mint syrup instead! Now, unless you live in Wisconsin, odds are you won't be able to get the precise ingredient I used to add my unique twist on the drink, but you can order it for your next Derby day (or for this coming summer...it's good anytime!) and, if nothing else, I'll give you a guide to making something similar, though not quite identical.

You'll need a little bit of prep time for this, say a couple hours, just enough to give the syrup time to cool down before adding it to your ice and bourbon. Or you can prep it the night before, and take a batch with you to your Derby Day celebration. You'll need to procure some Sweet Mint Organic Botanical Blend from Rishi Tea, plus some dried peppermint. Infuse two tablespoons of the Rishi blend plus 1 tablespoon of peppermint in 5 ounces of boiling water for about 5-10 minutes; the leaves will soak up about an ounce of water, so if you drop below 4 oz after removing the leaves, just add enough hot water to bring it back up to four. Add 1/2 cup of cane sugar to the still hot liquid, and stir until dissolved, ending up with about 6 ounces by volume. Bottle and cool until time to build your julep. If you can't locate the Rishi tea and don't feel like ordering it, but your favorite grocery carries Yogi brand tea, you can get by with their "Egyptian Licorice Mint" variety...2 teabags of that plus 1 tablespoon of dried peppermint should do it. Infuse as above.

Now, to build your drink, fill your Collins glass with cracked ice, add an ounce of your mint syrup, three ounces of bourbon (or rye if you live above the Mason-Dixon line, or if you just prefer rye), swizzle gently, top again with cracked ice, pour an additional 1/2 oz of your mint syrup on top, and let it sit for about five minutes before sipping. In case you're wondering just how much ice you'll need, the answer is "a lot," as I cracked an entire tray of ice for one Collins glass. On the plus side, the glass frosted itself after I swizzled it, which is always pretty damn cool! If you want to be really contrary, you can garnish with a mint sprig, but that'd be silly, after going through all that work to avoid using real mint leaves in the drink. Best to leave it ungarnished.

I must admit, prior to sampling this drink, I was worried that it would not have as much of a mint flavor as one might hope. Happily, it does. Plus, the addition of the other herbs in the infusion make for something a little more complex than your typical mint-sugar-water-bourbon Julep. If you really wanted to commit sacrilege and play up the licorice notes in your syrup, you could add a scant 1/8 oz of absinthe or Pernod or an anisette of some sort (or even Green Chartreuse). It would be a scandal if the word got out, but it would certainly bring a dollop of new life to that staid old grey mare of Derby tradition.

"Anyone who says I didn't create the Mai Tai is a dirty rotten stinker."

Thus sayeth Victor "Trader Vic" Bergeron. The Mai Tai is a classic, though sadly, much mistreated drink. The first problem with it was the base rum that Vic favored, a seventeen year old J. Wray and Nephew Jamaican, saw it's worldwide supply exhausted within a year of the 1944 debut of this drink. Then it saw it's orgeat switched from an imported brand to an easier to procure one. After that, it's seen one modification after another. Hell, even I modified it tonight (but I only try to change you because I love you, alcohol), and in the great scheme of things, my change isn't too egregious of one. So here's tonight's version of the drink!

Mai Tai

2 oz Pyrat XO rum
1/2 oz orange curacao
1/2 oz orgeat syrup
1/2 oz lime juice
1/4 oz Wray and Nephew White Overproof rum
1/8 oz simple syrup

Shake all ingredients well with tons of crushed ice and pour into your favorite Tiki mug (if you don't have a favorite Tiki mug, you really should get one. If you're pressed for time, though, you can use a Collins glass)

The name of this drink comes from the exclamation, in Tahitian, of the first people to taste Vic's concoction, Ham and Carrie Guld. On Carrie's first sip, she exclaimed (according to Trader Vic lore) "It's mai tai! It's mai tai roa áe!" She explained that it means "out of this world! The best!" And lo, the name stuck. And it should...it's a damned good drink. The original didn't use the overproof rum, and instead of simple syrup used 1/8 oz of "rock candy syrup" which is just simple syrup with some vanilla extract added to the mix. I opted to use the Wray and Nephew overproof to add a vanilla note, plus a little extra booze...the Pyrat is good, but it can underwhelm a bit in some mixes (though it's awesome to drink straight with a little lime). Contrast this to the Mai Tai served at your local TGI McTchotchke's GoodTime FoodDrinkery and you'll find there's a world of difference: the difference between expedience and craft. This little tipple, if consumed in the dog days of summer, just around sunset after a fun-filled day of yardwork, may just be the thing that saves your sanity and sends you, if only for a few minutes, "out of this world."

No school like the old school

I picked up some new cocktail books from the library to peruse. One of them is titled "173 Pre-Prohibition Cocktails" by Tom Bullock. Apparently Bullock was the celebrity bartender of his day, and compiled these back in 1917. Now there are some really strange drinks in here, like the Bombay Cocktail, made with olive oil, vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, an egg , salt and paprika (sounds like a Prairie Oyster!) which you may rest assured I won't be preparing, but there are also some that stand the test of time. They're simple, to be sure, but they're good. Here's the one I opted to make first, if only because of it's name:

All Right Cocktail

1 jigger (1 1/2 oz) rye whiskey
2/3 jigger (1 oz) orange curaçao
dash Angostura bitters

Shake with ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

It's a simple concoction, but it gets the job done. If it were more modern, you'd probably see the curaçao reduced a bit more, to keep it from being too sweet, and possibly served over ice, but all in all, it's just as potable today as ever. Easy little bugger to make, too.