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!

The Elmwood Sour

(a.k.a., whiskey sour with cassis and rosemary)

First of all, this delicious summer cocktail is blatantly (and respectfully) derived from Jeffrey Morgenthaler's recipe for the Bourbon Renewal. Mr Morgenthaler's recipe is an inspiring take on the whiskey sour, adding crème de cassis. One taste of this and my wife promptly emptied her glass and called for another. It's easy to have one too many.

My personal twist on this recipe (and the reason I have taken the liberty of calling it something different) is that I use rosemary-infused simple syrup rather than plain simple syrup. The notes of rosemary - fragrant, woody, and redolent of southern France in summer - provide a subtle complement to the equally Mediterranean blackcurrant and lemon. It's easy to make rosemary syrup; you'll find a recipe here.

I have bestowed the name "Elmwood Sour" on this drink for purely nostalgic reasons. My grandparents lived in Chiswick, London, at 44 Elmwood Road. My grandfather, John Laycock, was a Yorkshire man who married a lovely French woman named Blanche Messager, before going off to fight the Germans in a British tank in WWII. After the war, they settled in Chiswick, where they lived in a modest, bone-white terrace house with a massive sycamore tree in the front (with which my grandfather had a controversial relationship) and a delightful English garden in back.

It was a cozy garden, with a high fence for privacy and a border-path of flagstones set into the thick grass. Hiding the fence was a thick-but-manicured growth of flowers, cyprus, apple trees and blackberry brambles, roses, hollies, butterfly bushes, and blackcurrants. For a city garden, it was a wedge of paradise where birds sang endlessly, and butterflies and bumble bees zigzagged.

I loved that garden, and to this day the memory of my grandparents is cradled within its grassy, Edenic confines; it is the bright days of August, and they are on recliners, reading and drinking tea (or gin and tonics, depending on the hour), soaking up the unreliable British sun. The fragrance of the garden was rose petal, the flavor blackcurrant. Picking and eating the small, bittersweet fruits was a childhood pleasure. I loved blackcurrant drink (Ribena) and blackcurrant sweets. For many English who grew up during WWII, blackcurrant was the flavor of England (the plant was grown during WWII to provide much-needed vitamin C for the embattled islanders, especially children, who drank the syrup mixed with water to get vital nutrients). The rosemary element, with its fragrance of hot, dry Southern France, is representative of my grandmaman's French heritage. Together with the lemon and cassis, the flavor is English summer for me, in times of great happiness.

Back to the topic on hand. I will say, before attempting this cocktail, you will want to lay your hands on a very good bottle of crème de cassis (blackcurrant liqueur). The one I purchased is Crème de Cassis de Dijon, by Maison Brunet. I found this at Cambridge Wine & Spirits - a sort of heaven for folks like me. The Maison Brunet has an intense blackcurrant flavor that you cannot replicate with artificial flavors. If you see the words "artificial flavors" or "artificial colors" on the label, steer clear.

Without further preamble, here is the recipe:

The Elmwood Sour

2 oz bourbon

1 oz fresh lemon juice

1/2 oz  crème de cassis

1/2 oz rosemary-infused simple syrup (recipe here)

1 dash Angostura Bitters

Have it over cracked ice: Take some ice cubes and put them in a plastic bag. Whack 'em with a hammer or the blunt side of an axe (or a meat tenderizer, if you have one) just enough to crack the ice. Put the cracked ice into a highball glass. Then, add all the ingredients to a cocktail shaker, add ice, and shake vigorously. Strain into the cracked-ice filled highballs. Garnish with a sprig of rosemary.

Bottoms up!

In the garden at 44 Elmwood Road

The Night Tripper Cocktail

On June 18, I disclosed the recipes for black peppercorn-infused vodka and my very own Dirty Cur Cocktail, a riff on the Salty Dog. And it was good. Since then, I have been playing mad scientist. The flavor of the infused vodka is rich and peppery, spicy and bold. The color is amber. It inspires experimentation. The flavor has real potential in cocktails.

I call this one the Night Tripper because I devised it while listening to Dr. John, The Night Tripper's Gris-Gris album, and it includes absinthe (popular in New Orleans). So there is a certain Crescent City-inspired atmosphere at work. Like Dr. John's debut album - a swampy, psychedelic, sultry, voodoo-sounding work of art (in my opinion) - this drink has mojo. It is spicy, mysterious, and satisfying. You can play around with the proportions and the supporting ingredients. And it packs a punch.


The Night Tripper Cocktail

• 2 oz black peppercorn-infused vodka (recipe here)
• 1 oz sweet vermouth (My choice is Carpano Antica Formula, but any sweet vermouth is fine)
• Splash of absinthe (I use Kübler in this; also try Pernod, Herbsaint, or other absinthe substitute)
• Dash Angostura Orange Bitters
• Orange twist for garnish

In a chilled cocktail glass, add the absinthe and swirl to coat. Discard (and not into the sink, barbarian). In a shaker with ice, add the infused vodka, bitters, and the vermouth. Shake vigorously and strain into the cocktail glass. Add the orange twist.

Feel the mysterious flavors of the pepper and fruit, with the dark undertone of absinthe.

Bottoms up. Let me know what you think.

The Dirty Cur Cocktail

This is one I came up with after making my own black pepper-infused vodka, and I have to say it is pretty effing good. On its own, the black pepper vodka is intense - extremely peppery - but its flavor suggests that in the right combinations, it could be an excellent addition to a variety of cocktails.

The Dirty Cur is basically a riff on the Salty Dog (which is vodka and grapefruit juice, over rocks in a glass with a salted rim). The difference is the flavor of black pepper vodka.

First of all, you need to make your infusion. It's pretty easy:

Black Peppercorn-Infused Vodka

1. In a two-cup mason jar, add a handful of coarsely cracked black peppercorns.
2. Fill with good-quality vodka (when I say good quality, imagine drinking it ice-cold by itself).
3. Cover and let sit in a cool, dark place for no longer than 24 hours. It gets too intense quickly after that. 
4. After the 24-hour period, strain the vodka into a clean pint bottle or a mason jar - and put it in the freezer. It will be the color of a dark rum.
5. Let it mellow another day, and it's ready to drink.

When it is ice-cold, you can drink the infused vodka on its own, as the Russians do. You'll be surprised how tasty it is!

So, now you have your black pepper-infused vodka. It's time to concoct the Dirty Cur:

The Dirty Cur Cocktail

2 oz Black peppercorn-infused vodka
4-6 oz Fresh-squeezed pink grapefruit juice
Garnish: lime wheel

First, the rim job: To salt the rim of your highball glass, rub it with a lime wedge (gently, so you don't get the side of the glass all sticky), then dip it into a dish of coarse salt. Go easy, you don't want a rim that is too thickly encrusted...

After salting the rim, add ice to the glass, along with the vodka and the juice. Stir to mix, add the lime garnish, and enjoy the Dirty Cur. Bottoms up.