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...