The Whittemore Sipper

After some midlife upheaval, I now live in a strange oasis called the Whittemore Estates. This is a hidden secret of Boston, a rambling property of flagstone and apple trees, vegetable gardens and a rich abundance of flowers. There is also a quite remarkable swimming pool, certainly an anomaly in Boston, that brings to mind the south of France, or at the very least, a summer vacation spot in Maine or Cape Cod.

It is now October and the pool is forlorn and covered. We are heading toward Halloween. Days have become cooler, the nights downright chilly, and the apples are falling off the trees en masse. The air is redolent of their broken flesh, of woodfire and damp leaves. 

In homage of this magical place, I have a cocktail to share. Based loosely on a cocktail by Jay Zimmerman of Brooklyn's ba'sik, the Whittemore Sipper is, as is my wont, a twist on the Manhattan using rye whiskey, Orchard Apricot Liqueur, and Byrrh Grand Quinquina (an aperitif flavored with quinine—which comes from chinchona bark—and has flavors reminiscent of finer vermouths, but with a gentle bitterness). To this I add a combination of bitters, and a flamed orange peel. 

I have played around with this cocktail quite a bit, veering away from my first choice of Punt y Mes vermouth, which is a bit too heavily bittersweet (in my opinion) for this drink, and opting eventually for the gentler Byrrh, which has tones (such as chocolate) that complement the apricot and rye nicely. You could substitute the very fine Bonal Gentiane Qiuna, another quinine-derived aperitif (and a key ingredient in the Bonal & Rye cocktail). 

Go easy on the apricot liqueur—at least if you are using the Rothman & Winter Orchard Apricot—as it can be a bit medicinal if overused. And find a rye that has punch. I have been using 100-proof Hochstadter's Vatted Straight Rye Whiskey, but the 100-proof Rittenhouse Rye works well too. I'm sure even Old Overholt would work, in a pinch, but the rye flavors—all the flavors, in fact—are more muted.

Also, I have played around with bitters, starting with Regan's Orange Bitters and moving to Dutch's Colonial Cocktail Bitters and a few others. I settled on a combination of the unshakeable Angostura Bitters and Bittermen's Xocalatl Mole Bitters, which adds suitable depth and complementary flavors to the drink. However, part of the fun is experimenting, so perhaps there are other types of bitters that would bring out different flavor profiles in this drink.

Experiments are underway employing a rinse of smoky scotch, and the verdict is out. But, again, this is why drinking is fun. Without further ado, the recipe.

The Whittemore Sipper

• 3 oz rye whiskey
• 3/4 oz Byrrh Grand Quinquina
• 1/2 oz apricot liqueur
• 2 dashes Bittermen's Xocalatl Mole Bitters
• 1 dash Angostura Bitters
• Flamed orange peel

In a mixing glass with ice, combine all the ingredients except the flamed orange peel. Stir until very cold and strain in to a cocktail glass. Flame the peel (see how to flame a peel) over the drink and discard the peel. Drink the drink. Bottoms up.

And, please don't hesitate to provide your feedback on this recipe.

And to All a Good Night

I managed one post last year and I will manage one again, this year. You can all blame the mighty Manhattan for my absence, for I have been sunk in its ever-evolving charms and comforting elegance throughout the past year. 

Now, however, that is beside the point. I am in the throes of addiction to a new magic.

It is December 21, 2014. The Winter Solstice. The Winter Solstice marks the longest night of the year. And this year, it will be the longest night in "the history of earth" (according to science -- or not). So, on the cusp of the longest night in 4.5 billion years, I am here to tell you about a spicy little number called, fittingly, And to All a Good Night. 

Forget that Christmas poem. At least, you will once a few of these have lubricated your puzzler. Attributed to Tim Stookey of the Presidio Social Club in San Francisco, this cocktail with the unwieldy name has won my heart over the past few weeks. And, it is a truly unusual tipple in that it brazenly mixes bourbon (or rye) with tequila. And then throws in a bit of Cherry Heering. On paper this sounds truly unpleasant, but not so much that I wasn't intrigued. So I got to work.

Some recommendations for liquor: First of all, while this was originally billed with bourbon, I can tell you that, so far, this has worked best for me with a nice, strong, spicy rye. I used Bulleit and it definitely added some nuances that were lost to Old Overholt. I would opt for a similar route with bourbon--go for something with a little oomph in the spice department. As for the tequila, I used a Espolón reposado, which worked nicely. I haven't experimented too much with different reposados, but it would be worth the effort I think. Then you have your Cherry Heering (no substitutes) and your bitters. I tried this with Angostura Orange bitters, and it fell short. You really will benefit from the Regan's orange bitters. They demonstrate more peel bitterness, and have quite a bite. Then a dash of Angostura bitters for that distinctive depth. Obviously, tastes differ -- which is why it is fun to play around with these cocktail recipes.

So what would such a mix of ingredients taste like? I was surprised. First of all, the orange oils from the garnish give this a sumptuous, magical bouquet. And each sip revealed (to these taste buds, at least) the richness of chocolate; a deep, dark hint of cherry fruit; and a lot of spiciness--using Bulleit rye I found a range of sparkling, palate-rousing mint, cinnamon, cocoa, pepper, vanilla. The tequila will add its own complimentary notes, which in retrospect is not so surprising, considering it too is aged in wood and carries a spicy whomp. 

The marvel, with this drink, is how all the flavors blend together into a most harmonious whole. Exactly as it should be with a superlative cocktail. So, my lovelies, get to work.

And to All a Good Night

• 1 1/2 oz bourbon or rye 
• 3/4 oz reposado tequila 
• 3/4 oz Cherry Heering
• 2 dashes Regan's orange bitters 
• 1 dash Angostura bitters
• Orange twist 

Combine the ingredients in a mixing glass with ice and stir until cold. Strain into a glass, take a swath of orange peel and gently spritz the oil across the surface (you can even try flaming it), deposit the peel in the glass, lift it to your lips, tilt the glass gently to no more than a 45 degree angle (toward your mouth, of course), and savor.

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!" And, I say, bottoms up.

Election Day? Try the Commander in Chief.

I'll keep this simple. I went out and voted today. I hope you did, too. Now, I have to wait on the edge of my seat to see if the country gets turned back 12 years, or if it decides it is better to keep advancing. It's a white-knuckle moment, but I will have help dealing with it courtesy of mixologist Michael Lay at Restaurant 1833 in Monterey, California, and his Commander in Chief cocktail.

It is a well-balanced mix of rye (calls for Bulleit, but I used Rittenhouse), Carpano Antica Formula vermouth, Cherry Heering, and Campari, with some Fee Brothers Orange Bitters and, according to the Restaurant 1833 site, a Laphroaig rinse as well. I did not have Laphroaig, which is a smoky Islay malt, so I tried it with a scotch I had on hand--Glenkinchie 12 year old Edinburgh malt--less smokey, so perhaps not as assertive as might be required in this rich cocktail. If you have Laphroaig, try it out. Leave a comment about your experience. Decide what is right for you. Then, cast your ballot.

By the way, this is quite a delicious drink, with a lot of depth and nice orange notes. You have to be sure and flame that peel!

In the shaker tonight:

Commander in Chief

• 2 oz rye
• 1/2 oz Carpano Antica 
• 1/2 oz Campari 
• 1/2 oz Cherry Heering
• 2 dashes Fee Brothers Orange Bitters 
• Flamed orange peel

Measure and pour all the ingredients together in a glass and stir gently. Strain into a coupe rinsed with Laphroaig scotch, and flame the orange peel across the drink.

And then bottoms up! Hail to the Chief.

Remember the Maine

The U.S.S. Maine enters Havana Harbor.

After a miserably long silence -- my time away being spent attending matters of adult responsibility (not suffering, whatever you may hear from various reprobates, any forced abstinence) -- I present to you a cocktail bestowed with wonderful flavors and a mysterious moniker. There is a tale to be told about the libation referred to as "Remember the Maine." (Note to the reader: I may have previously mentioned that my research skills are dodgy and I am heroically lazy. Nonetheless, I think I've been able to piece together the basic story.)

The U.S.S. Maine, portrayed by Frederick Nelson Atwood.

It was the winter of 1898, and the battleship U.S.S. Maine had been sent to Havana, Cuba, to protect the interests of the United States during Cuba's revolt against the Spanish colonists. Three weeks after arriving, the Maine was anchored in Havana Harbor when a devastating explosion sent the great ship to the sea floor. Two hundred fifty-three sailors went down with the wreck. Eight later died of related injuries. Of 355 men, only 94 survived the blast and the sinking.

The ship's five-ton store of gunpowder had detonated. All parties involved in the ensuing investigation agree on that. How the magazines exploded remains up for debate. All manner of conspiracy theories haunt the sinking of the Maine. Was it an accident? Was there a mine? Was it sabotage? An act of terror? One such theory, propagated with great sensationalism by Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst in what became known as the "yellow press," was that the Spanish were responsible for sinking the American ship. The hawkish Pulitzer and Hearst sympathized with Cuba's plight for independence from Spain, and soon the phrase "Remember the Maine, to Hell with Spain!" was popularized, with the intention of prodding the U.S. into the Spanish–American War.

Wreck of the U.S.S. Maine.

Other stories circulated, with boards of inquiries leading to varying conclusions: the 1898 Del Peral and De Salas Inquiry discounted mines and advised that the gunpowder explosion was caused by a fire in the coal bunker; the 1898 Sampson Board's Court of Inquiry concluded that a coal fire could not have been possible and that a mine was the culprit; the 1911 Vreeland Board's Court of Inquiry found that the arms explosion was triggered by an external explosion, likely a mine, but their evidence differed from that of the 1898 Sampson Board; the 1974 Rickover Investigation, a private inquiry, examined photographs and ship plans and concluded that there was no external breach, and that spontaneous combustion in the coal bunker must have caused the magazines to explode; the 1998 National Geographic Investigation utilized the technology of computer modeling to assert that the damage to the ship's hull pointed away from an initial munitions explosion, but stopped short of claiming proof of a mine; and, in 2002, the History Channel Unsolved History Investigation landed on the side of the coal-bunker fire as causing the ignition of the gunpowder. 

Finally, a few pointed toward a "false flag" theory, speculating that the U.S. sank its own ship and sacrificed its sailors to justify war against Spain and to protect Cuba (or, to lay claim to the island in place of the Spanish).

While any of the aforementioned events are plausible, the true cause of the sinking of the Maine remains a mystery. And who gives a damn? History is history, and we have a wonderful cocktail to enjoy, called "Remember the Maine." 

So, what is the link between libation and liberation?

Charles H. Baker’s 1939 book, The Gentleman’s Companion: Being an Exotic Drinking Book or Around the World with Jigger, Beaker and Flask, is understood to be the first in which the Remember the Maine cocktail is mentioned. Baker's description includes a reference to the 1933 coup against the government of Gerardo Machado by General Batista during the "Revolt of the Sergeants" (Batista would, much later, be defeated by Fidel Castro's revolutionaries):

“Remember the Maine, a hazy memory of a night in Havana during the unpleasantness of 1933, when each swallow was punctuated with bombs going off on the Prado, or the sound of 3″ shells being fired at the Hotel Nacional, then haven for certain anti-revolutionary officers.”

We can only surmise the connection between cocktail and the course of history, but perhaps having a drink in Havana in 1933 and hearing, as described by Baker, the siege of the Hotel Nacional, was enough to stir memories of the former "unpleasantness" with the Maine and the Spanish–American War. In any case, let's get to the booze.

I tried this recipe numerous times, with varying ingredients and ratios, and landed upon a combination that I think is well-balanced and pleasing. It's the kind of drink that can be experimented with, by using different ryes (I tried James E. Pepper 1776 Rye and Rittenhouse Rye, both 100 proof, as well as Old Overholt -- all do well) or vermouths (Carpano Antica was too sweet, Punt y Mes was intriguing but not quite right, and Vya worked nicely; however, I found the best was the ever-so-slightly bitter Cocchi Vermouth di Torino), and even absinthes (I used Kübler, because it is the bottle I have on hand). However, you can't do without the Cherry Heering, as there really is no substitute.

Remember the Maine

3 oz rye whiskey

1 oz sweet vermouth (try Cocchi Vermouth di Torino)

2 tsp (10 ml) Cherry Heering

1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) absinthe (or, rinse the glass and discard)

Maraschino cherry

Charles H. Baker himself eloquently instructs: "Stir briskly in clock-wise fashion -- this makes it sea going, presumably! -- turn into a big chilled saucer champagne glass, twisting a curl of green lime or lemon peel over the top." 

My preference is a maraschino cherry -- especially one prepared by Luxardo. Just what the doctor ordered. Of course, it is all a matter of personal taste.

Bottoms up -- and, Remember the Maine!

The Final Ward Cocktail

I can't believe it is March, and the temperature outside is 84 degrees. This isn't just some freak early spring day in Boston. This whole winter has been a dream, and this has been the fifth day in a row with balmy temperatures. This is incredible.

In fact, today is a good day to mix up a Final Ward cocktail, a tipple discovered during a recent visit to The Hawthorne lounge in Boston's now-completely-castrated-and-soulless Kenmore Square (remember The Rat?). Devised by Philip Ward, of New York's Death & Company, the Final Ward is a bespoke version of the classic Last Word (equal parts gin, lime, green Chartreuse, and maraschino liqueur), a cocktail allegedly developed at the Detroit Athletic Club during the Prohibition.

Upon sipping one this afternoon, my wife described the Final Ward as "the perfect springtime 'up' drink, bridging the gap between the Manhattan and the whiskey sour." I agree, and would also throw in the daiquiri as a comparison point, for good measure. Lemon makes it deliciously crisp and refreshing, while Green Chartreuse introduces a distinct herbal quality, and the maraschino liqueur (I use Luxardo, which is superb, but you can find others) provides a woody and floral note. Replacing the botanical gin, rye adds a dry and fruity element, with that distinct flavor of the grain working well with the other ingredients. It has been suggested, and for the record I agree, that the rye should be 100 proof minimum for best results (though I think it is fine with Old Overholt, which is not hard to find, and easy on the wallet to boot). On a side note, I recently bought a bottle of High West Double Rye!, and it is fantastic. Talk about rye! And it comes from Utah, of all places.

I should warn that Chartreuse is not cheap, but a bottle should last you a good long while (sort of like buying absinthe). It's truly worth the investment for this drink.

The Final Ward

3/4 oz rye whiskey
3/4 oz fresh lemon juice
3/4 oz Green Chartreuse
3/4 oz maraschino liqueur

Shake all the ingredients with ice, until the shaker is frosty and your fingers smart from the cold. Ok, just shake it until it is cold. Strain into a cocktail glass and enjoy spring!

Bottoms up!

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!

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!

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!

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!

Sazerac Cocktail (Cognac Version)

I've had many a Sazerac cocktail - quite a few in its birthplace of New Orleans - and I enjoy it thoroughly. However, I have always had it made with rye whiskey. The other day, I was in the mood for a Sazerac and I didn't have the rye. Dr. John was playing on the stereo, the evening was sultry and sticky, I was in a blue bayou mood. I had to have a Sazerac!

Then I realized that I did have a bottle of decent cognac on hand - nothing fancy, but perfect to make the lesser known, older version of the Sazerac (which is originally named after the Sazerac de Forge et Fils cognac used). If not exactly what I was craving, I was still ready to try it out. And it was good.

In my taste, actually, this version (for the time being at least) has shouldered the more familiar rye concoction aside. So without further ado, here's how to make a damn good cognac-based Sazerac:

Sazerac Cocktail (with Cognac)

• 3 oz cognac (nothing too fancy, unless you're made out of money - I use Raynal)
• 1 sugar cube
• Peychaud's Bitters
• Splash of Herbsaint (the best, but hard to find outside of the Crescent City - you can use another absinthe substitute, such as Pernod or Absente; I tried it once with Kübler and it was okay)
• Lemon twist for garnish

Putting this drink together is a ritual. First, fill a cocktail glass with crushed ice to let it chill. Drop the sugar cube (or roughly a teaspoon of sugar) in a separate mixing glass, and saturate it with about four dashes of Peychaud's Bitters. Muddle it a bit to dissolve the sugar, and add the cognac (or rye, if you prefer) and stir. Meanwhile, dump the ice from the chilled cocktail glass, and add a splash of Herbsaint to the empty, cold glass. Swirl it around to coat the interior, and then discard. (Actually, I never discard Herbsaint anywhere except straight into my mouth.)

Add ice cubes to the sugar/Peychaud's/cognac in the mixing glass, and stir until very cold. Strain into the Herbsaint-rinsed cocktail glass. Add a twist of lemon peel for garnish. Santé, and bottoms up.

The 1794 Cocktail

This cocktail commemorates the Whiskey Rebellion of 1794. A very brief overview: In the late 1700s, a tax was levied on whiskey in order to address millions of dollars in debt that had accrued under the Articles of Confederation, which prohibited taxation of states. As part of the new government that began operating in 1789 - after the ratification of the U.S. Constitution - Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton established the tax to help address the debt.

Famous whiskey insurrection in Pennsylvania (1880). Courtesy of NY Public Library.

The tax was highly unpopular among those on the western frontier of the U.S. It pitted the small, independent farmers and distillers of the west against the big companies back east. The western producers of whiskey protested the tax. They refused to pay, and were subsequently subpoenaed by the government. This eventually led to the Battle of Bower Hill in Pennsylvania - and loss of life. Clashes continued until the government finally prevailed in squashing the rebellion. You can read about this fascinating event in detail at Wikipedia (reservoir of all knowledge).

In the meantime, let's talk about the 1794 Cocktail. It's a delicious riff on the Boulevardier, composed of rye, Campari, sweet vermouth, and bitters. The original Boulevardier is a Prohibition-era drink made of bourbon or rye, Campari, and sweet vermouth. It is basically a whiskey-based Negroni (which is equal parts gin, Campari, and sweet vermouth).

The beauty of the 1794 Cocktail (which I understand was created by Dominic Venegas at "Range" in San Francisco) is that it allows for welcome variation in ratios. Campari is incredibly intense, and in my opinion, works better in the 1794 as an element of the drink rather than an equal partner. You also want a nice, spicy, solid rye that will stand up to the Campari while complementing it. Ryes I use in this are Wild Turkey 101, Rittenhouse 100, or Redemption Rye - all work well.

Vermouth-wise, I am happy using Noilly Prat Rouge, but even better is Vya sweet vermouth (out of California). You could try Carpano Antica Formula, but it's flavor is also intense and might be a bit much with the Campari. However, the beauty of this drink is that you can play around with the ratios and ingredients and see what happens.

As for the bitters in this drink, I read about using Bittermen's Xocolatl Mole Bitters from the Cocktail Virgin blog (which in turn credits "John from No.9 Park," a Boston restaurant). It just so happens that I received a bottle of this very bitters as a gift from close friends. It was a good excuse to experiment with this unusual but very pleasing cocktail - and I am incredibly glad that I did.

You'll find spiciness in the rye and a fruity note from the vermouth and Campari - cleanly undercut by the Campari's bitter finish. Surprisingly, the Xocolatl Mole bitters add a delicious undertone of gingerbread that suits this drink beautifully. It would be worth trying other bitters (orange would be a good match) as well.

A final note: My spouse, who cares not for Campari, loves this drink. So do not let any bias against that ingredient prohibit you from trying this!


The 1794 Cocktail

• 2 oz rye whiskey 
• 1/2 oz Campari
• 1/2 oz sweet vermouth 
• 1 or 2 drops of Bittermen's Xocolatl Mole Bitters 

Stir with ice until very cold, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon or orange peel.

Bottoms up.

The Whiskey Sour

Cape Cod + Whiskey Sour = Paradise

The perfect cocktail to top off a day at the beach.

Whiskey Sour
Adjust ratios of whiskey to sour mix to taste.

• 2 parts bourbon or rye whiskey
• 1 part homemade sour mix (recipe here)

Shake with ice. Shake it like hell until the ice is shattered and the shaker is too cold for your hands. Strain into an Old-Fashioned glass, and garnish with a maraschino cherry and a slice of orange. Or strain it over rocks, if you prefer it that way.

Be sure to check out the "Back Forty," a variation on the whiskey sour with a maple syrup-based sour mix, and the "Elmwood Sour," made with rosemary simple syrup and creme de cassis.

Bottoms up.

The Leatherneck Cocktail

I had never heard of this until it was introduced to me by close friends, who also happen to be avid appreciators of the mixed drink. I have to admit, when they listed off the ingredients, it sounded like a revolting combination. The color, however, was hypnotic like the cerulean seas of Greece. Or something like that. And it tasted marvelous!


"Leatherneck" is slang for a member of the Marines. The following is lifted from the DrinkGal website:

Created in 1951 by a former Marine and New York World Telegram columnist, Frank Farrell. Ted Haigh found this cocktail in the book "Bottoms Up" by Ted Saucier, and Saucier quoted Farrell as giving instructions for this cocktail, saying "Shake violently on the rocks and serve in a cocktail glass... Stop smoking. Fasten your seat belts. Empty your fountain pens. Because after two gulps, you'll seriously consider yourself capable of straightening out Chinese fire drills." 

Of course, the name is from the term "Leatherneck" which referred to Marines who used to wear a high leather collar in the Revolutionary War to protect their necks from swords.

The other night I tried my hand at the Leatherneck Cocktail. My willing spouse and I had to see that color again. I needed to refresh my memory of the taste. I bought some blue curaçao (same taste as orange curaçao, except colored bright blue) and some limes. We were off and running. After a few of these, you'll be ready for a risky mission of some sort.

The Leatherneck Cocktail

• 2 oz rye whiskey (I use Rittenhouse 100-proof rye)
• 3/4 oz blue curaçao
• 1/2 oz fresh lime juice

Shake with vigor and strain into a chilled cocktail glass - any glass you have that will show off the fine coloring of this delightful adult beverage. You can garnish with a lime wheel, but actually I prefer not to and advise against it. Despite appearing in the pictures here, I think the garnish messes with the serene beauty of the drink.