The Kentucky Fix

If you enjoy coffee and you have a taste for bourbon, then you will most certainly appreciate the coffee-infused bourbon at the heart of this delicious and simple cocktail, which is in the style of the classic Old Fashioned. In addition to the obvious medicinal qualities of bourbon, one benefits from a gentle kick of caffeine. This is an elegant, sophisticated, wholly adult beverage.

You have to start by infusing the bourbon with full-bodied coffee beans. It's a painless procedure. Put a quarter cup of fresh, whole coffee beans and two cups of bourbon in a jar with a tight-fitting lid. Let the mixture sit for 12 hours, and then strain out the coffee beans (you might use cheesecloth to keep the smaller particles out of the liquor).

That said, I am known to be a lazy man. I rarely endeavor to make infusions, even simple ones such as described above. The truth is, I am not only slothful, but impatient. I don't like to wait for anything, whether it is public transportation or late-arriving guests, a slow walking companion, or 12-hour infusions. When I seek to slake my thirst, I demand immediate satisfaction, as I am sure you do as well. So, when I have actually planned ahead and made an infusion, it is a particular treat to enjoy. We made a batch prior to the Christmas holiday, and my wife and I enjoyed one on Christmas Eve (or truthfully, Christmas Eve day). Delicious - and I must say it perked us up a bit too.

The Kentucky Fix

• 2 oz coffee-infused bourbon (recipe here)
• 1 big barspoon of demerara sugar
• 2 dashes Regan's Orange Bitters
• 1 dash Fee Bros. Whiskey Barrel-Aged Bitters
• Garnish: flamed orange peel

In a mixing glass, combine the sugar, the bitters, and the infused bourbon. Stir to dissolve the sugar. Add ice, and stir until very cold (count to 50). Strain into a rocks glass with freshly cracked ice. Flame a thick swatch of orange peel over the drink, and drop the peel in.

If you are in doubt about how to flame a peel, check out the technique on my Infusions, Syrups, Concoctions page.

Bottoms up - and a very happy New Year to you!

"Christmas" Manhattan

The so-called "Christmas" Manhattan is simply one of my variations on the standard Manhattan. It substitutes a couple of the traditional ingredients: standard sweet vermouth is replaced by the more complex Carpano Antica Formula vermouth, which is based on what is purported to be the original sweet vermouth recipe from Antonio Benedetto Carpano, created in 1786. You can find it a bit more easily nowadays; if you are in the Boston area you can try Dave's Fresh Pasta or Cambridge Wine & Spirits. 

Carpano happens to have many of the characteristic flavors one might associate with the holidays - think licorice, herbs, figs, cocoa, and sweet cinnamon. The Fee Bros. Old Fashion bitters have a cinnamon profile (try to find the limited edition whiskey barrel aged bitters, released once a year...) that sings holiday carols with Regan's Orange Bitters, which are especially good (you can substitute Fee Bros. Orange Bitters or Angostura Orange Bitters). Hell, for that matter you could approximate this using any sweet vermouth, Angostura bitters, and whatever orange bitters you can find, if necessary. 

That said, this particular combination of ingredients, listed below, derived its name when I proffered one to my lovely wife, who responded by saying, "It's like Christmas in my mouth."

I thought it would be appropriate to post this heading toward Christmas, simply so as to put before you an option, which you may essay to concoct, for a December evening's celebratory tipple. Christmas Eve, especially.

The "Christmas" Manhattan

• 3 oz Wild Turkey 101 bourbon
• 3/4 oz Carpano Antica Formula Sweet Vermouth
• 2 dashes Regan's Orange Bitters
• 1 dash Fee Bros. Whiskey Barrel-Aged Bitters
• Garnish: Maraschino cherry

Combine the ingredients, bitters first, in a mixing glass. Add ice and stir until very cold (count to 50). Strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with a Maraschino cherry. 

If you are bothered to acquire the listed ingredients, go a step further and buy Luxardo Maraschino Cherries in syrup. They are the best money can buy (and quite dear, unfortunately), but you will be grateful at the end of your drink when you taste a Luxardo cherry: tart, sweet without being saccharine, deeply flavored, and all natural. After all, it's a holiday and you only live once.

Bottoms up - and Happy Holidays!

Punch Drunk

Punch is fun. And it makes an especially good party offering, as the hosts don't have to spend their evening "behind the bar," so to speak, but can mingle freely with their guests. Well, actually, it is usually only served at parties nowadays, though once upon a time it was a standard libation. You just don't see it that much anymore.

The main problem is finding punches that are interesting, and also not too sweet. Because so often, punches are made (or refreshed mid-party) by people who have already had way too much to drink - I am sure you have seen it: A soused host debonairly dumping sickly sweet rum into some sort of sickly sweet juice, concocting a recipe for one of the worst headaches in the world.

So, after some years, I have refined my list of punch recipes to just a few. And of those, these two are the best. They are deeply flavorful, complex, and not too sweet. They work wonderfully as holiday party punches, but are not limited to that service.

By the way, here is a good book about the history of punch by David Wondrich.

Without further ado:

Kentucky Cardinal Punch
Courtesy of Imbibe Magazine.

Says Imbibe, succinctly: "This punch from Kentucky bartender Kyle Higgins gets a strong fruity backbone from Southern Belle shiraz, a robust Australian wine aged in used Pappy Van Winkle whiskey barrels." 

It was incredibly difficult for me to track down this wine. Originating from Australia's R Wines Winery, I finally found a distributor in New York (and reasonably priced, too). I had a friend lug up a few bottles. In any case, I have not seen any since. I am sure nothing tastes quite like it (thanks to that aging in Pappy van Winkle bourbon whiskey barrels), so choose whatever bold wine you can find and don't expend energy on regret.

8 cups Southern Belle Shiraz, or other bold, spicy red
2 cups rye whiskey
2 cups brandy
1 cup sweet vermouth
1/2 cup Carpano Antica
1 lb granulated sugar
2 cups Moscato d’Asti
8 cups sparkling water
Ice block (freeze water in a Bundt cake or loaf pan)
Garnish with orange twists

Combine shiraz, rye, brandy, vermouth and Carpano in a pitcher. Slowly stir in the sugar until dissolved. Refrigerate for several hours until cold. When ready to serve, place ice block in punch bowl and pour chilled mixture over. Top with moscato and soda water and serve. Garnish each serving with an orange twist.
Makes approximately 50 servings.

Bourbon Punch with Pink Grapefruit and Mint

Courtesy of Melissa Clark, Bon Appetit. Makes 8 to 10 servings.

This is quite an interesting punch. Sort of a mix between a Mint Julep and Brown Derby. It is not too sweet, and has a tart, citrusy sparkle to it, thanks to the mingling grapefruit, mint, and club soda. The ingredients may seem a bit unusual, but this was a successful punch at one of my holiday parties. Very flavorful and with mass appeal. I doubled this recipe.

Hors d'oeuvres

• 1/3 cup water
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 15 fresh mint sprigs, divided
• 4 cups strained fresh pink grapefruit juice
• 2 1/2 cups bourbon
• 12 dashes angostura bitters
• 1 cup club soda

Stir 1/3 cup water and sugar in small saucepan over low heat until sugar dissolves. Increase heat and bring to boil. Add five fresh mint sprigs. Remove from heat; cool syrup completely.

Strain syrup into punch bowl. Add juice, bourbon, and bitters; mix in soda and 10 mint sprigs. Add a block of ice to bowl.

A note about ice blocks: You want an arctic hunk of ice. While you can certainly buy blocks of ice, it is is easy to use a large Tupperware container, or as suggested above, a Bundt pan, to create a frozen block or ring of ice. Just freeze the water over night or longer to be sure it is solid! Have a backup ready, too, in case the first block melts too much.

If you are not serving the punch immediately, keep it refrigerated until you are ready to serve, and then add the ice to the punch bowl. Yes, you need a punch bowl. Bottoms up!

Whoa, whoa!

Holiday Eggnog

My childhood memories of Christmas resemble faded Polaroids: mustard-yellow or pine green shag carpets, gaudy Christmas trees, bed-headed family members in bath robes and gowns, stockings over the hearth, the mouthwatering smell of a roast in the oven, blaring holiday music, and, of course, eggnog. Go on, try the link.

Eggnog - specifically, the eggnog my father used to make - was a staple at my parents' holiday gatherings for as long as I can remember. My dad would make gallons of the stuff in vats, and serve it up to guests - who, enthralled by the silky texture and rich flavor, would quaff cups of the stuff and wind up three sheets to the wind. That is because there is a boatload of bourbon in it, and rum too. Those parties got louder and louder as the night wore on.

As I grew a bit older, I was eventually initiated into the eggnog ritual, but allowed only one glass... My grandmother once got quite ridiculous after drinking two or three glasses of the stuff, triggering a laughing fit that took over the whole family for an hour. 

Oakland 1977

A few years ago, prior to a holiday party I was hosting, I asked Dad for his eggnog recipe. This makes a damn fine eggnog for the holidays, truly old school. It is incredibly thick, the consistency of heavily whipped cream. After shaking and serving, an inch of dense froth forms on the surface, which makes the ultimate moustache. It is definitely a dessert in a glass. Be forewarned, however, that the quantities seem to double once the cream is whipped and the egg whites are beaten. You will need very big mixing bowls in order to avoid the sort of billowing spillover that happened to me, ending in a desperate rummage for additional bowls into which to split the rapidly ballooning volumes of liquid.

You'll understand why this is a special treat, and why you are best off limiting yourself to this once a year at most, after one glance at the ingredients. A few notes before you get started: Dad recommends making this a week in advance, so the flavors meld. I am not sure it is necessary to do this - maybe a night or two instead. 

Holiday Eggnog

Makes a gallon plus

12 egg yolks

12 egg whites

1 1/2 cups of sugar

1/4 tsp salt

1 quart heavy cream

1 quart milk

750 ml bottle of bourbon

1 cup of light rum

Nutmeg for garnish

Beat the egg yolks with 1 cup of the sugar and the salt, until very light. In a separate bowl, beat the whites until stiff, then beat in the additional 1/2 cup of sugar. Combine the egg mixtures and beat until thoroughly blended. Next, whip the cream and then beat it into the egg mixture, followed by the milk. Stir in the whiskey and mix well, and finally, add the rum. 

You'll need a jug that holds over a gallon to store this, as the eggs and cream become very voluminous after beating. Store in a cool place (the fridge, in other words, or outside if you have cold winters). Be sure to shake the stuff vigorously before serving. Sprinkle nutmeg on top and watch your guests get loopy. It's good.

Bottoms up, and season's greetings! 

The Brown Derby Cocktail

The Brown Derby on Wilshire

In 1926, the original Brown Derby Restaurant opened at 3427 Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles. Like most good things from that time, it no longer exists. It moved to 3377 Wilshire Boulevard, eventually got sold, and at last report was part of a typical LA strip mall.

The Brown Derby on Hollywood and Vine

It was not the only Brown Derby. Another branch, probably more famous, opened in Hollywood at 1628 North Vine Street. This branch also sported a distinctive brown dome, though it was not quite as derby-shaped as the original. The Hollywood Brown Derby was the place for the city's movers and shakers. A place to see, and be seen. They say Clark Gable proposed to Carole Lombard at this location. They also shot the "L.A. at Last" episode of I Love Lucy within its walls. There was a "Great Wall of Fame," on which hung the caricatures of the restaurant's many celebrity diners.

Allegedly, the Cobb Salad was invented there, made by owner Bob Cobb as a midnight meal for Sid Grauman (Grauman's Egyptian Theatre, Grauman's Chinese Theatre).

The Brown Derby Cocktail, however, was not invented there. Instead, it came from a competitor called the Vendome Club, also in Hollywood. According to Dale DeGroff's Craft of the Cocktail, this recipe dates to 1930.

The Vendome Club, Hollywood

The ingredients may sound strange at first, but bear with me. The flavors work well together - you get a very fleeting, candied sweetness, followed by a much more nuanced honey taste, then a pleasing bitterness introducing the whiskey's spiciness, and at the end, an incredibly dry finish - and it is a very simple drink to make. No fancy Italian liqueurs or hard-to-find bottlings. All you need is some fresh grapefruit juice, some honey, and some bourbon. For this drink I happened to use Old Grand-Dad 114 proof bourbon, which worked well. I had a grapefruit that was getting a bit soft, so I squeezed it for fresh grapefruit juice. And to make the honey syrup, all you do is mix one part honey with one part warm water, and stir until the honey dissolves.

My wife suggested that using different honeys - lavender, for instance - would impart variations in flavor that would be particularly pleasing. This would also be a success with rye whiskey. So, play around!

The Brown Derby Cocktail

• 2 oz bourbon (or rye)
• 1 oz fresh grapefruit juice
• 1/2 oz honey syrup (recipe here)

Shake the ingredients with ice, until very cold. Strain into a cocktail glass and enjoy. Easy peasy, nice and tasty.

Bottoms up!

Romeo & Juliet Manhattan

Parting is such sweet sorrow...

The Romeo & Juliet Manhattan is simply a variation on the traditional Manhattan, albeit with something of a bittersweet tone, redolent of orange peel and darker flavors of leather, raisin, burnt sugar, violet, and nutmeg. This nuance is due to the tryst of Carpano Punt e Mes - an aperitif similar to sweet vermouth, but with a mild bitterness that brings to mind an amaro - and Carpano Antica sweet vermouth. These two combine nicely, tempering each other's more passionate qualities without losing their ardor. 

Similarly, the combination of Angostura and orange bitters highlight the bouquet of fruit and spice in both Punt e Mes and Carpano Antica.

Of course, all of this is happening under the all-encompassing embrace of bourbon. For those who find a standard Manhattan too sweet, this is worth a try.

The Carpano Antica and Punt e Mes are critical components to this, as they produce a harmonious interplay of flavors. Substituting the Carpano Antica will alter the character of the drink, but I realize it's not necessarily easy to find these bottles. So a regular vermouth could work instead. Punt e Mes should be easier to come by. 

Romeo & Juliet Manhattan

3 oz bourbon (Wild Turkey 101 is my choice)

1/2 oz Punt e Mes

1/2 oz Carpano Antica sweet vermouth

1-2 dashes Angostura bitters

1-2 dashes orange bitters (I recommend Regan's)

Stir all the ingredients with ice until nice and cold, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry, skewered through the heart (O happy dagger, this is thy sheath).

Bottoms up.

My Father's Manhattan

Simply put, my father makes the best Manhattan.

I don't know what makes it the best. It could be nostalgia. It could be the ratios, the precisely limited amount of bitters, the maraschino cherry juice (yes, the bright red kind). It could be the sheer consistency of the recipe - year after year, not one of these magnificent drinks has wavered in flavor. Each encounter with a Manhattan made by my father is like a reunion with your own flesh and blood. If there was one thing I could have learned from this, it is don't muck about with perfection.

So, like a proper son, I did muck about. And as a result, I lost the magic touch.

I used to make a good Manhattan; slightly more bitters, slightly more vermouth. In fact, in the quest to find my own take on this classic - my own perfectly rendered Manhattan - I have tried scores of different bourbons and ryes, many types of bitters and vermouths, and so many damned ratios that I have effectively forgotten how to make the same drink twice. I have made some outstanding cocktails, real beauties, with rich, complex flavors. I have made many that were merely so-so. The problem is, I have no standard to which I can adhere. I am always trying some new thing. It's hit or miss. Until, that is, I do it Dad's way.

That's why, in honor of my father's recent October birthday, I decided to write about his consistently delicious, soul-warming, old friend Manhattan. A chance to come home, so to speak. The Prodigal Son. It is like hitting the default button, starting over, finding the trail out of the wilderness. For me, it is the control in the experiment. It is the measure by which all other endeavors must be judged.

I would like to say I can remember the first time I was old enough to be offered my initial Manhattan. It was probably Christmas Eve. It probably came, as it always does, brimming with amber liquid and mystery, that dark cherry nestled deep in the glowing heart of the drink. Here was the special-occasion cocktail I had seen my father sip on for most of my life, always during gatherings or holidays. It represented festivity and camaraderie. It was always a libation indulged in as a group: the family raising a toast; a boisterous group of friends carefully clinking glasses, trying not to slosh. On trips to visit my mother's family in London, Dad would bring Wild Turkey, and would introduce the English relatives to this uniquely American cocktail. Everyone there who tasted it remembered it - such a cocktail was almost completely foreign to England at the time - and it was in demand at every visit, year upon year.

As for me, I loved it immediately. Spicy, sweet, floral, woodsy, each sip ushering a fugue of flavors, developing and restating themselves, from toasty vanilla to nutmeg and a mere hint of cinnamon, to something like burnt sugar and charred wood. Such a remarkable drink undoubtedly fostered my (quite possibly unhealthy) need to discover what transforms a good cocktail into a beautiful experience.

So here, a little over week past my father's birthday, I offer the king of Manhattans: Dad Bradley's.

My Father's Manhattan

• 4 parts Wild Turkey 101 bourbon
• 1 part sweet vermouth (Martini & Rossi)
• Dash of Angostura Bitters
• Small barspoon of liquid from the maraschino cherry jar

Note that I say parts, not ounces. The number of ounces that comprise four parts is up to you. Shake the ingredients with ice until very cold (about a 20-count) and strain into a chilled martini glass. Garnish with a maraschino cherry (and no, not the fancy kind... the artificially colored kind).

My brother, Ben, and father, Damon - happy with Manhattans

I have quite recently introduced my father to Carpano Antica, a particularly flavorful sweet vermouth, the "ancient formula," and Luxardo's fancy marasca cherries which are tart and delicious. And Dad politely agrees that these tastes indeed add new dimensions to the old classic Manhattan - and he may mean it. But ultimately, I like the Manhattan best when it is made the unfussy way Dad makes it: using the old, sticky bottle of Martini & Rossi, the trusty Wild Turkey 101, and the bright red cherries. And just a dash of bitters.

Here's to you, pops. (Forgive me if I don't say "bottoms up" this time.)

The Little Italy Cocktail

This cocktail was introduced to me by the bartender at Island Creek Oyster Bar in Boston's Kenmore Square (at which I spent far too much time - and far, far too much money) one evening in October. The fellow was an understated but skilled practitioner, and once he knew that the Manhattan was my favored cocktail, he was quick to suggest all manner of variations.

This libation was my favorite of the night, and I gleaned the recipe by watching him make it. It's basically a Manhattan with a rye base, but as the name suggests, the flavor of Italian ingredients transforms the old classic, capturing the essence of Manhattan's "Little Italy." It's one of those drinks that is very simple, but challenging in terms of ingredients: you should really use Carpano Antica Formula sweet vermouth, as it has a distinctive flavor that blends very well with the other hard-to-find ingredient, Cynar.

Cynar is an Italian artichoke-based bitter liqueur. I have found it locally at the ever-bountiful Cambridge Wine and Spirits, at the Fresh Pond Mall (you can also find the Carpano Antica Formula there, as well as the superb California vermouth "Vya"). The other place to look is Dave's Fresh Pasta in Somerville.

After a little research (and I stress a little because I am extremely lazy and my research is cursory at best - which means you should always exercise a healthy skepticism whenever I claim to know anything), I discovered that this delicious drink was created and named by one Audrey Saunders of New York's Pegu Club. And as Imbibe magazine says, "This cocktail is New York all the way. It’s the perfect expression of the neighborhood that Pegu Club’s Audrey Saunders named it for, with the American brawn of rye whiskey and the richness of Italian ingredients."

While you must have the Cynar, and finding the Carpano is highly advisable, the choice of rye is up to you. I used Wild Turkey 101 Rye in my version, because my favorite rye - Rittenhouse 100 - has seemingly become quite scarce in my neck of the woods. However, if you can find the Rittenhouse 100, it's called for in the original recipe, so I suggest going for that. You'll save a few bucks, as well.

Here is the monkey-exact, original recipe:

Little Italy Cocktail

• 2 oz Rye whiskey (Rittenhouse 100 in the original)
• 1/2 oz Cynar
• 3/4 oz Carpano Antica Formula vermouth
• Luxardo maraschino cherry in syrup

In a mixing glass with ice, stir the ingredients until very cold. Strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with the cherry.

You can find good quality, flavorful cherries, such as the Italian Luxardo cherries in syrup, at the Boston Shaker, or at specialty liquor stores (or even online from Amazon.com). If you hate the bright red maraschino cherries found in supermarkets, then these are worth the extra $10 or $15. Otherwise, the others are fine for garnish.

Salute! Bottoms up.

Autumn Old Fashioned

Well, then. Last weekend it was in the mid-80s - hot for October. This weekend, it is in the cool 60s. Brisk nights. Breezy afternoons. Only glimpses of that sparkling October sky through puffy white cumulus. The increasing presence of chilly grey clouds casting an ominous light. Let's call it "Graveyard Grey."

Autumn is here. Definitely my favorite time of year for cuisine. I am prone to eating lots of cheese. Sharp cheddar. Swiss fondue. Stilton. Not to mention savory game meats - wild boar, venison - along with all manner of root vegetables, bisques, oysters, mac and cheese, chowder, mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts cockaigne, hearty pastas and baked dishes, cassoulet, choucroute... the list can, and does, go on. The crisp, gusty days; the wafting tendrils of smoke from bonfires and hearths; the clouds pushed hurriedly across bright, clean, blue skies; the trees exploding in colors of rust and amber, flame orange and that yellow that is almost indefinably rich and luminescent... It just seems to stimulate the appetite. The metabolism preparing for winter's icy clutches. The urge to fatten up. A good time for eating.

And a good time for drinking, too.

I like the flavor of applejack during the fall. The apples go hand-in-hand with the season, so I have been trying to find cocktails that can be made with applejack. About a month ago, in my last posting, I introduced the Newark Cocktail. The Newark is a delightfully autumnal sipper, with a host of tantalizing flavors that evoke the season of burning firewood, spooky nights on streets paved with leaves, carved pumpkins leering from front porches and entryways, gnarled oaks, apple orchards, and crumbling stone walls.

When I found a recipe for an applejack-based Old Fashioned, I had to try it. And this recipe is very good. This one is totally New England to me. Apple, maple, cinnamon, nutmeg - the flavors are perfect for an autumn evening after a day spent wandering the woods in light sweaters, the rustling leaves aflame with color.

A couple of notes:

1. If you can find Laird's Bonded Straight Apple Brandy (100 proof), use that - you'll get the flavor of about about sixteen to twenty pounds of apples per bottle. I haven't yet found it in Boston, so I use Laird's Applejack, a blended spirit with apple as the base (as opposed to rye, wheat, or corn), which contains about six pounds of apples per bottle. It's sort of like American whiskey with a hint of apple. 
2. As for the maple syrup, you won't get the spirit of this drink without using the good stuff: grade A, 100 percent pure. I will go so far as to recommend dark amber for fuller flavor. The one I used is Coombs Family Farms Maple Syrup, Grade A Dark Amber. Smoky and richly flavored, not too sweet, and redolent of the northern New England woods. 
3. Try to find the Fee Brothers Whiskey Barrel Aged Bitters. They have the perfect flavor of cinnamon and spice to provide the correct underpinning to the maple and applejack. The barrel aged bitters are available only in limited quantities each spring. Find them here. In a pinch you can use regular Fee Brothers Old Fashion Bitters, which front a little more cinnamon, with a lot less subtlety. Angostura would probably work as well, but in that case you might experiment with three to four dashes rather than two.

Autumn Old Fashioned 

• 2 oz applejack
• 1 tsp Grade A, dark amber maple syrup
• 2 dashes Fee Brothers Whiskey Barrel Aged Bitters

In an Old Fashioned glass, add the two dashes of bitters (be careful, as they are quite potent - too much and they will overwhelm the drink), the spoonful of maple syrup, and the applejack. Stir to mix, and then add a couple of ice cubes. You can garnish with an orange twist, if you so desire.

Great while listening to Bill Evans' Sunday at the Village Vanguard, or perhaps Frank Sinatra's Autumn in New York...

Bottoms up - Here's to my favorite time of year in New England. Let's make the most of it because we know what comes next...

The Newark Cocktail

This past Friday, autumn arrived. Just two weeks into September, and crisp winds are rustling the leaves, the mornings are brisk, and we had our first touch of frost. I smelled a wood fire the other evening. And sitting here now, my chilly nipples are hard as diamonds. 

Yes, diamonds. What is this crap?

The Newark Cocktail

That distressing image now rooted in your mind, I will say that I actually rather enjoy autumn. The seasonal cuisine is good, I like the idea of tweed, there are bonfires, horror movies, Halloween, and a surplus of cocktails that make use of bourbon, rye, scotch, or, in this case, applejack.

Therefore, I am very happy to have discovered this enchanting, autumnal libation. It's woodsy, complex, a bit smoky, and has a hint of apple. It is the flavor equivalent of kicking through fallen leaves in an orchard, the odor of burning wood wafting through the bracing air, the last bite of apple still on the tongue. I've only made two and I am in love. If you like a Manhattan, you will probably enjoy this. It's worth having to buy the Fernet-Branca you'll need.

The cocktail is called the Newark, evidently, because it is a variation on the classic Brooklyn Cocktail - and according to the recipe, its creators (Jim Meehan and John Deragon of New York's Please Don't Tell) "didn't think the world needed another Park Slope cocktail. So they looked across the Hudson River instead and cheekily named it the Newark."

It is a most fitting name, too, since Laird's apple brandy and applejack (apple brandy blended with neutral spirits, somewhat similar to bourbon or rye, except apples are used instead of corn, wheat, or rye) have been distilled in good ol' New Jersey since 1780.

The Newark Cocktail

• 2 oz Laird's applejack (or Laird's 100-proof, bottled in bond apple brandy - if you can find it)
• 1 oz sweet vermouth (if you can find them, Carpano Antica or Vya add delicious nuances here)
• 1/4 oz Fernet-Branca
• 1/4 oz maraschino liqueur (I use Luxardo)

Combine all the ingredients with ice and stir until very cold and well mixed. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. No garnish (though a lemon twist or a cocktail cherry would work).

Bottoms up!

The "Drew Barrymore" Cocktail

Photo courtesy of Dave Aaronoff.

Derived from the Du Barry Cocktail, this delightful sipper substitutes one ingredient and adds a little flame - in the process, transforming from doomed courtesan to pyrokinetic prodigy, hence the name "Drew Barrymore" (remember Firestarter?). This one was named (and flamed) by my friends Dave and Kerry, after they determined that the original Du Barry was lacking in some depth.

Speaking of the original Madame du Barry: in short, she was the last maîtresse-en-titre of French King Louis XV. She came up off the streets and ended up catering to the erotic needs of the aristocracy of France. Eventually she found herself servicing Louis XV, on the down-low, until she was officially presented to the Court at Versailles in April of 1769 as the king's maîtresse-en-titre. After the king's death in 1774, Mme du Barry was exiled. She eventually met her demise under the guillotine's undiscerning blade on December 8, 1793. Her last words, famously, were "Encore un moment!" (wait!).

So, why was the original called the Du Barry? Is it because it is basically a martini, done up with a bit of finery (Du Barry had grown accustomed to extravagant jewels and attire)? Is it because of the Pernod? While the Pernod absinthe distillery was not developed until 1797, this anise liqueur does represent the French element. Is it the gin? Typically associated with the English, could gin symbolize Du Barry's missed chance of survival? During a visit to Great Britain, the English tried to prevent her from returning to certain doom at the hands of the French Revolutionaries, who were bent on eradicating the aristocrats and royalty. Or perhaps it is the bitters - after all, her fate was a bitter one.

In this version, the original's thin slice of orange is now a flamed orange peel. Also, this calls for Peychaud's bitters - connecting again to the French element (in this case, New Orleans' French Quarter) - instead of Angostura bitters.

The Drew Barrymore Cocktail

• 1 1/2 oz gin
• 1/2 oz dry vermouth
• 2 dashes Peychaud's bitters
• 2 dashes Pernod
• Garnish: flamed orange peel

Shake all ingredients with ice, strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with a flamed orange peel.

The Peychaud's works very well with the anise flavors of the Pernod and the herbal nature of the gin. The flamed peel adds a delicious, complex burnt-sugar hint to the drink.

How to flame a peel: Due to the oils in their skins, lemon and orange peels can be flamed, creating a caramelized flavor in a drink. Be careful playing with fire in the vicinity of strong spirits, though. With a sharp knife, remove a thin section of peel from the exterior of a fresh orange or lemon, about an inch in length and perhaps three quarters of an inch wide, avoiding the pith. You want to end up with an oval of the peel. Holding a lit match or lighter in one hand, and the peel (between forefinger and thumb, exterior facing toward the drink) in the other, gently squeeze the peel so that the oils spritz through the flame and over the surface of the drink. You will see sparks if you do this correctly. In case you need a visual guide, here is a video showing the whole technique at bonappetit.com.

Bottoms up!

The Tiki-Ti Five-0 Cocktail (and farewell to summer's glories)

When you reside in the northeast, summer is a privilege, enjoyed (if you're in luck) for three or four months out of the year. When September arrives, psychologically it means the summer is about over - even if you have hot weather through the month. With the descent of September - and the accompanying throngs of college students that infest Boston for the school year - we realize that the privileges of summer will gradually be withdrawn. And following the magnificence of autumn in New England (really the best season we have), the cold, hard reality of winter arrives with steely skies and stray snowflakes. After that, hibernation.

Alas, though September is here, and Labor Day weekend is drawing to a close, the weather is still hot and muggy. Perfect for perhaps the final tropical cocktail of this summer. Let's bid the season farewell with the tangy flavors of lime and Chinese five-spice, rum, and orange. Let's send it off with the Tiki-Ti Five-0.

This laboriously named cocktail is courtesy of the ever-entertaining Imbibe Magazine, and the concoction's creator, "tiki scholar" Jeff "Beachbum" Berry. His recipe is in honor of the fiftieth anniversary of the Los Angeles watering hole Tiki-Ti, hence the Five-0. It's very good. It requires a little advance work, in the area of "Five-0 syrup."

To make Five-0 syrup, mix one cup of clover honey with one cup of water and one tablespoon of Chinese five-spice powder. I found this powder easily at Whole Foods in Boston. I am sure it is readily available at your local market, in the spice aisle. You can also find the recipe here.

Without further ado, the last tropical drink of summer:

The Tiki-Ti Five-0

2 oz aged rum (I use Smith & Cross, which is quite distinctive... you could also use the more readily accessible Cruzan aged rum)
1/4 oz ginger liqueur (G.E. Massenez Crème de Gingembre, Stirrings, or, in a pinch though it might be too sweet, Domaine de Canton French Ginger Liqueur)
1 oz Five-0 syrup
1 oz fresh lime juice
1/2 oz fresh orange juice

Combine all the ingredients in a shaker with ice and shake furiously.  Pour contents, including ice, into a highball  or collins glass. Add more ice if necessary.

Garnish with an orange wedge (and a piece of candied ginger, if you are so disposed). As you can tell from the picture, I used lime. So obviously it's a free for all. Bottoms up!

And, as a closing note, while summer may be on the wane, we are about to enter one of the most fruitful and decadent cocktail seasons ever: autumn. Coastal New England is the best place to be in October and November. Following that truth, this blog will encompass whiskey cocktails, a range of satisfying Manhattans, and other deeply pleasing autumnal drinks. So do not despair, my friends, and remain in hope: the weather may change but the cocktails will still satiate your yearnings.

Let's clink glasses to the future... To hell with bad weather.

The Bucking Bronco Cocktail

A short entry today, due to the stifling humidity that has saturated my office and caused me to promptly wilt. Luckily, this spicy and refreshing drink served as a pick-me-up and enabled me to push through this rather abbreviated preamble.

This cocktail is a riff on the Moscow Mule, substituting black peppercorn-infused vodka and lemon for the original's plain vodka and lime. Ever since my wife infused our first batch of vodka with crushed black peppercorns, we have been fascinated with cocktails made with the peppery liquor, which easily plays off vodka drinks already on the books, but with names that offer a variation on the theme... For instance, the Salty Dog became the Dirty Cur, and in this case, the Moscow Mule becomes the Bucking Bronco.

This drink also lives in the shadow of the Shangri-La cocktail, with the same basic flavors.

The Bucking Bronco Cocktail

• 2 oz black peppercorn-infused vodka (recipe here)
• Lemon wedge, squeezed and dropped into glass
• Dash of Fee Brothers Lemon Bitters (optional, but it adds a tart high note)
• Ginger beer (something zippy, such as Gosling's, Barritt's, Reed's, Citadelle, etc.)

Squeeze the lemon wedge into a highball glass with ice, and drop the lemon in.  Add just a dash of the bitters, then the black peppercorn vodka, and top of with ginger beer. Stir and enjoy.

An alternate version of this makes use of a drop or two of Bittermens Xocolatl Mole Bitters instead of the Fee Brothers Lemon Bitters, which enhances the black pepper flavor with a slight hint of chocolate - a surprisingly nice combination with the ginger.

The best thing about the black peppercorn-infused vodka is its ability to add an unexpected nuance to a drink, pairing well with a variety of flavors from citrus to dark fruit, chocolate, ginger, and more. It is almost culinary in terms of the the way the pepper flavor enhances or adds facets to other ingredients. There are many avenues of experimentation.

Bottoms up!

Hello, Hurricane Irene

Image courtesy of Reuters.

Today, Massachusetts is expecting the arrival of "greatly weakened" Hurricane Irene - most likely reduced to a tropical storm by the time it reaches us. Nonetheless, today there is no public transportation. Torrential, sideways rain. Violent wind. Since I have no desire to leave the house and possibly get my head staved in by a falling tree, I have decided that the approach of Irene warrants a couple of recipes appropriate for the day. Just for shits and giggles.

That means, of course, the Dark 'n' Stormy and the Hurricane.

The Dark 'n' Stormy was created in Bermuda sometime after WWI, and its recipe is actually protected by trademark. According to Jonathan Miles's article in the New York Times, "The Right Stuff (By Law)," a Dark 'n' Stormy has to be made with Gosling's Black Seal Rum. That's right. Current Gosling's owner E. Malcolm Gosling Jr. cautions that “People will try one with some other rum, and then say, what’s the big deal with this drink?”

That said, it is best with Gosling's rum, due to the rum's unique characteristics and dark hue. When I visited Bermuda, briefly in 2009, I had the opportunity (many, actually) to try these "on location." Though Gosling's was the only rum ever used, and Barritt's tended to be the ginger beer of choice, the actual ratios must have varied wildly because the cocktails would range from potent, strongly flavored concoctions to weak, watered-down affairs in cheap, plastic cups (see image below).

This sticks to the original ingredients, but with a slightly higher ration of rum than the Gosling's trademark "Dark 'n' Stormy®" calls for. I have been known to add a dash or two of Angostura Bitters to this drink, to pleasing effect. Don't sue me though.

The Dark & Stormy Cocktail

• 2 oz Gosling's Black Seal Rum 
• Gosling’s Stormy Ginger Beer or Barritt’s ginger beer (both from Bermuda); or, any ginger beer with a snap. 
• Lime wedge (I use about a quarter of a lime) 

Take your lime wedge and squeeze into a highball glass filled with ice. Add the rum, top-off with the ginger beer, and stir gently.

Okay, on to The Hurricane. Allegedly created in the 1940s by New Orleans tavern owner Pat O'Brien. Now, way down yonder in New Orleans, tourists drink these like water, in giant, 32-ounce to-go cups. "To go." Only in New Orleans. Of course, it is guaranteed that aforementioned tourists get soused and obnoxious and then do embarrassing things on Bourbon Street. I had a Hurricane in New Orleans. It was like Kool-Aid. It came in a giant cup. I refrained from having a second.

That said, I don't actually make this drink, so I can't recommend it or steer you away. It is here today because it is called the Hurricane. It is sweet. It has many ingredients. This particular recipe is taken from Dale DeGroff's fine book, Craft of the Cocktail. DeGroff enlightens us that:

According to Brian Rea, there were two versions. The first was a drink of the early twentieth century that contained Cognac, absinthe, and Polish vodka. The rum-juice combination appears to have surfaced at the 1939 World's Fair in New York, at the Hurricane Bar. I suspect that Rea is right - neither the drink nor Pat O'Brien's appear in the 1937 Famous Drinks of New Orleans, by Stanley Clisby Arthur.

The Hurricane

1 oz dark rum
1 oz light rum
1/2 oz Galliano
3/4 oz fresh lime juice
2 oz passion fruit nectar, or in a pinch, passion fruit syrup
2 oz fresh orange juice
2 oz pineapple juice
1 oz simple syrup
Dash Angostura Bitters
Fresh tropical fruit for garnish

Shake all the ingredients with ice and strain into a hurricane glass filled with ice. Add the garnish. Bottoms up! If Hurricane Irene doesn't blow us away, a couple of these sure will. 

The Trinidad Sour

Wow. This is an absolutely effing amazing cocktail, by Giuseppe Gonzalez, bartender at Painkiller in New York City. I have never been to this establishment, but thanks to the miracle of the Internet, I have been lucky enough to experience this fine adult beverage.

It has only one-half ounce of rye whiskey in it. But it has a full ounce of Angostura Bitters. And you may not know this, but Angostura Bitters has 44.7% alcohol content - which makes it about 90 proof. There are very few cocktails that make bitters the main ingredient. That's because bitters are, well, bitter. But this ingenious cocktail balances the ounce of bitters with orgeat syrup, lemon juice, and rye, to create, in effect, one of the most unusual sour cocktails out there. The depth is indescribable, with clove, rye, lemon, almond, and many other subtle flavors commingling perfectly.

There are some precursors. The Trinidad Especial - by Valentino Bolgnese - is bitters, orgeat, lime, and pisco. And, the honorable Mr Gonzalez also invented a Mai Tai called the Stormy Mai Tai - in which there are one and a half ounces of Angostura Bitters (and a half ounce of light rum). I don't know what I am thinking, but I have not tried this sure-to-be-brilliant take on the Mai Tai... I will have to remedy this soon.

Speaking of bitters, I must mention that there was a very frightening point in time (2009) during which it became very difficult to find Angostura Bitters. I could not buy them at my liquor store, and even established watering holes in Boston had to be creative due to a lack of this critical cocktail ingredient. Turns out, I was not the only one in a panic. Luckily, during this time, I happened to find a couple of small bottles of Angostura at a supermarket. I bought them all. One cannot live without Angostura Bitters if one is the least bit serious about making cocktails.

Thankfully, the great bitters shortage came to an end. And I celebrated by making this amazing, fantastic, delicious cocktail. As there is so little of the rye whiskey in this drink, and the bitters are so pungent, I use a robust rye bottling such as Wild Turkey 101 Rye, Rittenhouse Rye, or Bulleit Rye.

(One very important note: The Trinidad Sour calls for orgeat syrup. Orgeat syrup is a sweet syrup derived from almonds. You have to have it in this drink, in order to balance the bitters. I found mine, by Fee Brothers, at the Boston Shaker.)

The Trinidad Sour

1 oz Angostura Bitters
1 oz orgeat syrup
3/4 oz fresh lemon juice
1/2 oz rye whiskey

Shake all the ingredients with ice, and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Note the color of this drink, with its deep mahogany, burgundy, and amber hues. Sip and be amazed. This may well be one of the most fascinating and delicious cocktails of the twenty-first century.

Bottoms up. And, thank goodness for Angostura Bitters.

Bonal & Rye Cocktail

An interesting twist on the Manhattan Cocktail, the Bonal & Rye may not have a fancy sobriquet, but it is a very nice, well-balanced cocktail that plays up rye's notes of orange and grain to excellent effect.

Until recently, it was very difficult to find the French apéritif Bonal Gentiane-Quina. Thanks to a resurgence in classic cocktails, and an attendant quest for original ingredients, this is no longer the case. I found this at Dave's Fresh Pasta in Somerville, Massachusetts, which stocks an amazing variety of hard-to-find wines, vermouths, amari, digestifs, and apéritifs. If you're in the Boston area, you can also find Bonal at Cambridge Wine & Spirits (as of this post), a truly awesome liquor store for sheer breadth of choice.

Bonal, as described on the Haus Alpenz site:

Since 1865, this delicious aperitif wine has stood apart for its exceptional complexity, delightful flavors and stimulating palate. Serious to its role as aperitif, it was known as "ouvre l'appétit" - the key to the appetite. Found popular with sportsmen, Bonal became an early sponsor of the Tour de France. It is made by an infusion of gentian, cinchona (quinine) and renown herbs of the Grand Chartreuse mountains in a Mistelle base. Traditionally enjoyed neat or with a twist; also may enhance classic drinks in place of sweet red vermouth.

I tried this in a Manhattan in place of sweet vermouth, and it made a fine drink. It is more herbal than most vermouths, and has a bitter aftertaste; it changes the expression of the Manhattan in intriguing ways. I used two parts Old Overholt to one part Bonal, with a dash of Angostura Bitters and a dash of Regan's Orange Bitters. Bonal allowed the rye to shine through, and complemented its spiciness with a nice, mildly bitter finish.

After a cursory search online, I found the Bonal & Rye - credited to a bartender by the name of Todd Smith. If you're interested, you can read an article on the use of apéritifs such as Bonal, which mentions Mr Smith, in the San Francisco Chronicle. My version is the same as his, except I increase the rye by one ounce. Call me drunk or greedy, but I think the drink is a bit too sweet otherwise.

Along with Bonal Gentiane-Quina, you'll need a good rye. Now, I am a bourbon lover. But I really, really enjoy a good rye, and I have sampled a great many over the years. I highly recommend Rittenhouse 100-proof rye. Rittenhouse - named "North American Whiskey of the Year" at the 2006 San Francisco World Spirits Competition - is not only a delight, but a bargain at about $20. Other fine ryes (fairly easy to find these days) are Wild Turkey 101 Rye, Russell's Reserve Rye, Bulleit Rye, (rī)¹, Redemption Rye, and Old Overholt Rye. All of them are worth checking out - and spending a little quality time with.

You'll also need Cointreau (or triple sec liqueur), orange bitters, and Angostura bitters. I advise that you don't overdo it on the Cointreau, as it is quite sweet; on the other hand, you can be a little more generous with the Bonal. But first, try it like this:

The Bonal & Rye Cocktail

• 3 oz rye whiskey
• 1 oz Bonal Gentiane-Quina 
• 1/2 oz Cointreau
• 2 dashes Regan's Orange Bitters
• 1 dash Angostura Bitters

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange twist; or, if you'd like to be more dashing, I dare you to flame an orange peel over the drink. Be careful playing with fire.

Bottoms up!

The Northern Lights Cocktail

Yesterday, it rained a long time. It was a dark, heavy rain for most of the day. Occasionally a shard of sunlight would appear through the clouds, and the rain would sparkle and the trees became emerald. But mostly, it was a grim sort of day for the end of summer.

Here is how I spent it:

• I stayed home from work and lay in bed through the morning listening to the rain fall;
• ate frittata made by my lovely wife, mid-morning;
• watched a couple of movies that seemed like good rainy day flicks - decent films, but not so good that they would prohibit the simultaneous reading of magazines;
• snacked on potato chips and caramelized-onion dip;
• welcomed the cats to laze about with us on the couch, where they sacked out;
• prepared, at leisure, to venture out in the deluge to visit our dear, longstanding friend Bob White, who ever so kindly treated us to a very nice meal at Eastern Standard in honor of my birthday;
• returned home well-fed and drunk enough (1) to think that another bourbon on the rocks was a good idea, and (2) to select the dwindling (and now gone) Pappy van Winkle 20-year old Family Reserve;
• and, in the middle of all that, mixed a delicious cocktail called the Northern Lights.

The Northern Lights is a truly spectacular concoction, one which requires rare ingredients and a willingness to mix good scotch in a drink. Questions about using scotch in a mixed drink? Sure, it seems wrong, but can be oh-so-right. Take for example, the Blood and Sand, described here back in April of this year.

This beauty is balanced and versatile, unusual and tantalizing. It's name implies so much about the drink's flavors and hue. It is well suited to summer drinking, winter drinking, autumn drinking, and spring drinking. It is just fine on a summer day that is dark as a November evening, a day both humid and cool, with monsoon-like rains. This drink is like smelling an autumn wood fire, while lying prostrate in a meadow of wildflowers.

I first had this cocktail at an amazing restaurant in Cambridge, called Craigie on Main. It is from the mind of a master mixologist named Tom Schlesinger-Guidelli. This is a world-class restaurant with prohibitively high prices; an "occasion" restaurant. The food is incredible. Locally sourced, unusual, fearless. And this drink... complex flavors of smoke and evergreen, citrus and sunshine. It was floral and tart and mysterious. It was the flavor of alpine woods and sun showers.

It took me a good long while to accrue one of the vital ingredients - Clear Creek Douglas Fir Eau de Vie, a green spirit from an Oregon distillery, described as "an infusion of the springtime buds of Douglas fir picked by hand into clear brandy which is then re-distilled and re-infused with more buds" - but it is absolutely necessary in this drink. Without this eau de vie, you lose the woodsy notes that complement the scotch and citrus so well. You must also have St. Germain. There is really nothing one can substitute.

As for the scotch - the original recipe calls for Grant & Sons... I have never seen this, so I use whatever is at hand. That has included: J&B, Johnny Walker Black, and a 12-year-old Caol Ila single malt from Islay (probably the smokiest I have tasted). In fact, this drink is worth trying with different scotches, blended or single malt. The personality of the whisky can dictate the smokiness or fruitiness of the cocktail. Be careful with the smokier Islays - they can overpower the gentler flavors of elderflower and fir.

Now, after that lengthy preamble, here is how you make this smashing concoction:

Northern Lights Cocktail
Recipe for two

3 oz scotch (calls for Grant & Sons, but use anything decent that you have around)
1 1/2 oz St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur
1/2 oz Clear Creek Douglas Fir Eau de Vie (find it here)
1 oz fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1/2 oz fresh-squeezed orange juice
1/2 oz Demerara syrup (or, try rosemary-infused syrup)
4 dashes of Angostura Bitters (the Craigie on Main website actually calls for Bittermen's Tiki Bitters, which I have not had the opportunity to try)

Shake with vigor all the ingredients with ice, until very cold. Strain into two cocktail glasses, and garnish with a lemon twist. Bottoms up!

The Shangri-La Cocktail

Utopia at Dave & Kerry's place. Photo by Dave & Kerry.

A verdant, earthly paradise depicted in James Hilton's 1933 novel Lost Horizon, as well as on celluloid by Frank Capra, Shangri-La is one of the eternal utopias of the imagination - one where youth does not wither, and peace is not endangered.

That makes it the perfect moniker for this marvelous, refreshing cocktail, which was invented by my dear (and genius) friends Kerry and Dave, using black peppercorn-infused vodka that my wife and I presented to Dave as a birthday gift. The overnight infusion process is easy; especially well-suited to those of us who do not wait patiently. It is worthwhile to make the infused vodka in order to try this cocktail. I have additional bespoke recipes for the black peppercorn-infused vodka here that you can also try.

This drink earned its name because of its distinctly Asian flavors - combining the bite of ginger, the spicy richness of the peppercorn, and the tartness of the lemon in a beautiful, well-balanced way. Shangri-La is a fictional place, of course, but it is located (I think we can agree) in Tibet. Other names considered along the way were the Cato; Hummingbird; Peppery Tart; Shanghai Surprise (forget about the terrible movie; the rude Urban Dictionary definition would indicate a drink that starts off with one impression, but ends with a different one - though in this case, both are welcome); Bangkok Bite; and even Lost Horizon. There was a dubious moment when we considered calling this the Phuket Cocktail - but maybe that's for another drink, another time...

We stayed with Shangri-La because of its romantic, dawn colors; its floral notes; and its sharp-yet-subtle layers of sweetness, warmth, spice, and tang. Plus, to quote Dave: drinking this takes you to a beautiful, hard-to-reach paradise.

The Shangri-La Cocktail

• 2 oz black peppercorn-infused vodka (recipe here)
• 1 oz ginger liqueur (avoid artificial flavors: I've tried this with Stirrings Ginger Liqueur, Domaine de Canton French Ginger Liqueur, and G.E. Massenez Crème de Gingembre - each of which has the requisite ginger "snap")
• 3/4 oz fresh lemon juice

Shake the ingredients with ice until very cold, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a basil leaf or a lemon twist (or whatever seems right to you - this is utopia after all).

Bottoms up!

And now, as a postscript, a quick report on my experiments. I tried this with a small dollop of Sriracha chili sauce in the bottom of the glass (which, in a dream earlier, gave rise to the aforementioned name Shanghai Surprise), and also with a moderate dash of Angostura bitters (not at the same time as the chili). Of the two versions, the Angostura worked best, imparting a bit more depth; the chili sauce came off a bit viscous, and this drink has no need to be spicier than it is. Neither ingredient actually added anything to this drink, which is already quite well-balanced. Nonetheless, there are many possibilities for research: try it with a dash of Peychaud's bitters, or even orange bitters. Feel free to leave your suggestions and comments!