The Old Pal

Where did January go? In the hustle of the new year, I have been able to make only one post in the first month. Maybe I will get two in for the second.

Following the train of thought that began with the Boulevardier cocktail, I am posting a slight variation on that delicious drink. By all accounts, this first appeared in Harry McElhone's Harry's ABC of Mixing Cocktails in 1922. This was actually an earlier version of the Boulevardier, for in 1927 this was no longer written up in McElhone's book (evidently replaced by the Boulevardier).

First of all, while the Boulevardier traditionally calls for bourbon and sweet vermouth, the Old Pal demands rye and dry. It is altogether drier than its sweeter cousin, with the spiciness of the rye at mid-tongue complemented by the full, bitter complexity of Campari. A hint of orange peel, citrus oil, and herbal notes touch against a welcome caramel flavor from the rye, and round out with a gentle, mineral whisper of the dry vermouth. Served up with a lemon twist, it is quite a delight.

A few comments about this, to begin with: I used Old Overholt rye, and the results were very good. However, I think you might do better with a more flavorful, rye-forward bottling (Wild Turkey makes a good 101-proof rye that should not be too difficult to find, or too expensive), especially when standing up to Campari. Today's resurgence in rye whiskey opens the door to many variables; depending on your palate and preferences, there are numerous experiments to be made. For the dry vermouth, I used Dolin, which I think is outstanding. Others have expounded on Vya dry vermouth, but in some ways I find that it competes a bit too much with the other flavors. I am not discouraging you from trying it out, though, as it is truly unique.

Now, before March comes parading along, here is the recipe.

Old Pal Cocktail

• 1 1/2 oz rye whiskey
• 3/4 oz dry vermouth
• 3/4 oz Campari
• Twist

Stir with ice in a mixing glass until very cold, and strain into a cocktail glass. Twist a piece of lemon peel over the drink, so that the citrus oils spritz across the surface. Use the twist as garnish, if you like.

Bottoms up, old pals!

The Boulevardier Cocktail

Happy New Year, compadres! During this time of reckless resolutions, I wanted to assure my readership that I would remain steadfast in my championing of tipitular delights. After all, for the sake of good cheer and generous spirit, there is nothing quite like a raised glass and a toast to good health - naysayers be damned.

In a May 2011 post about the 1794 Cocktail, I made reference to a drink called the Boulevardier. Though similar to the 1794, the Boulevardier has slightly different ratios (and no aromatic bitters). Elegant in name, sublime in color, and a delight on the palate, this complex, gently bittersweet dram greets the sipper with an enticing aroma of citrus oil. Upon first taste, the tongue is enlivened by a dance of flavors flitting from bitter, to citrus, to savory, with a flash of sweetness and a very dry finish.

Actually, 100 years of cheers as of November 2011.

The Boulevardier has an interesting story. Ironically, an unintended side-effect of the Prohibition was the advent of mixed drinks (using juices and other mixers to obscure the harshness of illegal bathtub hooch). And, as Ted Haigh notes in Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails, the Prohibition also put barkeeps out of work - though an intrepid few ventured overseas to Europe. There, their early American cocktails commingled with relatively exotic aperitifs of the Old World - such as Campari, at the time virtually unknown in the U.S.

And so it was that barman Harry MacElhone (or McElhone, variously) ended up, eventually, in Paris. He worked at the New York Bar, acquired by American jockey James Forman "Tod" Sloan in 1911. In 1923, MacElhone gained ownership of the bar, rechristening it Harry's New York Bar. Today, a legendary and fantastic landmark, it still stands at "sank roo doe noo" (5 Rue Daunou) in Paris.

Eventually, the recipe for the Boulevardier made its debut in Harry MacElhone's 1927 Barflies and Cocktails. As Haigh points out, this cocktail is essentially a Negroni (gin, Campari, sweet vermouth) made with bourbon instead of gin. However, Haigh also makes it clear that the Negroni "would not see print for another twenty years."

The name is derived from a contemporaneous publication, The Paris Boulevardier, as the drink was the favored tipple of that rag's editor, Erskine Gwynne.

Incidentally, during a couple of trips my wife and I made to Paris in the early noughties, Harry's New York Bar became our mainstay - despite the fact that it was located across the city from our lodgings. The Bloody Mary was invented at Harry's, along with the White Lady, the French 75, the Sidecar, and the Monkey Gland (among others). As one of the few places in Paris where a "martini" refers to the gin cocktail and not just dry vermouth with a twist, it was a happy find. They also made a mean Manhattan, and the bartender was a true artiste, operating with economical style and flair, in black tie and crisp, white apron. We watched him turn out a Mojito laden with a bouquet of mint, for an unsuspecting Frenchman to try (and we were witness to his delight). In fact, despite its name, Harry's New York Bar had a cadre of regulars - most of whom were French. Additionally, its literary heritage was appealing to me, as a haunt of many writers, such as Hemingway and Sartre, not to mention celebs including Humphrey Bogart and Rita Hayworth, among others. If you wish to slake your thirst in Paris, sidle up to the counter at Harry's for a true Parisian experience. Oh, and if you get hungry, you can order chiens chauds (hot dogs).

Enough idle chatter. The Boulevardier calls for bourbon, and not having bourbon on hand (What?, you exclaim) I used Old Overholt rye, which was a delightful substitute. For the vermouth, Ted Haigh recommends the fantastic Carpano Antica Formula ("it will make your tongue sing"), but I applied the equally sublime Vya sweet vermouth, what comes out of California. There is no substituting the final ingredient: Campari. It's bitterness does not appeal to everyone, but I have grown accustomed to it and now I truly love it. Yes, it has a bitter attack, but it is tempered beautifully by the sweet vermouth and the whiskey; it also offers a subtle orange evolution on the palate, which is only enhanced by a squeeze of orange peel over the drink (I differ from Haigh, who recommends a cherry). I say, go with orange peel!

And without further ado:


The Boulevardier Cocktail

1 1/2 oz bourbon or rye
1 oz Campari
1 oz sweet vermouth
Garnish: orange twist

Stir with ice in a mixing glass until very cold, and strain into a cocktail glass. Take a swath of orange peel (avoiding the pith) and squeeze over the drink, so that the citrus oils spritz across the surface.

This drink is a delight. And this is my first post of 2012.

So, get yer bottoms up!

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!

Blood and Sand Cocktail

On paper, the Blood and Sand Cocktail sounds wrong... Scotch whisky, cherry brandy, orange juice, sweet vermouth? Scotch in any mixed drink is an unusual concept. And the range of scotch - from fireside-smoky to heather-and-honey to seaside salt-wind and ocean spray - makes the outcome of this drink unpredictable yet always surprising. This is what makes the Blood and Sand so intriguing, and so worthy of experimentation in ratios and ingredients. Plus, this drink is appropriate any season (and any time of day). Just add a bit more orange juice in the morning.

Blood and Sand (with kirsch)

I have made a few of these in my time, usually with just stuff I have in the liquor cabinet or fridge. That means whatever blended whisky is on hand for guests (usually J&B or Johnny Walker); sweet vermouth (any will do); orange juice (fresh is best but if all you have is a carton in the fridge, that's fine too); and cherry brandy. Who has cherry brandy lying around? Well, many people have a bottle of kirschwasser on hand for cooking, and I have used kirsch in this drink and I have enjoyed it. It makes a cocktail with a light, "sand" color (since kirsch is colorless) and a slightly woody flavor mingling with the tart sweetness of the orange juice and the smokiness of the scotch.

Recently, however, I have thought more about the "cherry brandy" element. An article in the always-informative Imbibe Magazine piqued my interest in Cherry Heering, describing it as a "ruby-red liqueur made by soaking lightly crushed Danish cherries and a blend of spices in neutral grain spirits, then cask-maturing the mixture for up to five years, adding sugar during the aging process." The article goes on to clarify that Heering is not to be confused with kirschwasser or Maraschino liqueur. Cherry Heering is suggested for adding depth to classic libations such as the Singapore Sling or the Blood and Sand.

So I went out and looked for Cherry Heering, and managed to find it quite easily at one of my local liquor stores. The Blood and Sand using Heering is more robust, deeper-hued (a little blood mixed with the sand), and I would say has more mouth-filling depth of flavor. The Heering on its own is a deep red, and is richly flavored - tart but not sweet.

The recipe I follow for the Blood and Sand is from Gary Regan's Joy of Mixology. It is simple: equal parts. It suggests that any part could be increased or decreased for variations on sweetness or smokiness. Over time I have tried different whiskies in this cocktail, from J&B blended whisky to single malts. For my taste, a milder malt, with some smoke but not too much, is best in this drink. When I used a very peaty Islay single malt, it was a bit too smoky (though not unpleasant). I preferred a heathery highland malt, which added just the right smokiness and layers of honey to the drink.

Blood and Sand (with Cherry Heering)

Blood and Sand Cocktail

• 3/4 oz blended scotch whisky (or single malt)
• 3/4 oz sweet vermouth (any works, but try using Carpano Antica Formula or Vya, if you can find them; both add their own nuances to this drink)
• 3/4 oz fresh orange juice (if you find blood orange, that would be appropriate)
• 3/4 oz Cherry Heering (kirschwasser works too, but is quite different in flavor)

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange peel if you so choose. 


Bottoms up!