Sanctuary!

Sanctuary

2 oz. Dubonnet Rouge
1 oz. Amer Picon
1 oz. Triple Sec (I used Cointreau)

Combine all ingredients with cracked ice in a cocktail shaker and shake well. Strain into chilled cocktail glass and garnish with lemon twist.

~ from "The New York Bartender's Guide", edited by Sally Ann Berk


The New York Bartender's Guide, like many items in my collection of boozeware, was a flea market find. I've mentioned before that many of these come courtesy of my father, who regularly travels the local circuit of flea markets, swap meets and the like, never failing to procure all manner of second-hand cocktail ephemera with a price tag of five dollars or less.

Despite its impeccable provenance, this volume is not one I consult often. (Although it has proven it's merit solely by laying to rest a nagging question concerning the recipe of a drink that was a favorite of my wife's grandmother.) However, as I was paging through it in search of a different recipe, I randomly laid eyes on this little number called the Sanctuary. It caught my attention for two reasons:

1) Absence of a base spirit

2) The realization that even though it has only 3 ingredients, this drink could easily go so terribly, terribly wrong.

The lack of a base spirit wasn't that troubling...it made me more curious than apprehensive, so full steam ahead. My main concern was getting the ingredients right. First off, if the Dubonnet was too old, we'd have a problem. Second, if the Amer was lousy, we'd have a problem. And third, if the recipe calls for triple sec, we have a problem.

Now before anyone accuses me of unreasonable anti-triple sec bias, I just need to say that triple sec is perfectly serviceable in a number of drinks. It's just that in my experience there are a variety of other orange liqueurs that can be used in its place that will yield tastier results. Fortunately, I had a handful of them available in Ye Olde Basement Booze Shelves, so I opted for Cointreau this time around.

It also turned out my bottle of Dubonnet was still OK, so I was two-thirds the way home.

That left the Amer. Again I was lucky, because I had a fresh stash of homemade stuff that my fellow cocktail geek SeanMike of the Scofflaw's Den was kind enough to place in my quivering mitts a few weeks ago. It's great, and as I mentioned earlier, I much prefer it to the commercially-made stuff I've tried.

So I broke out the shaker and gave it a go. It's startlingly good, with an overall "vintagey" character that somehow manages both depth and lightness. Also, it's a darn pretty brownish/crimson color that makes you want to dust off your thrift-store coupes* and let the light hit it.

So my advice concerning flea-market cocktail guides is this: If you run across something that looks like it may only have limited potential, consider picking it up anyway. I once heard someone say that even if you only get one good recipe out of a cookbook, the book was worth having. Even if I never find another decent recipe in The New York Bartender's Guide again, I'm still glad I gave it sanctuary on my shelf.





*Everyone buys their fancy glassware in thrift stores, right?

Frankenshaker

This time of year I find myself making drinks fairly often (I make 'em fairly often the rest of the year too, but keep your judgments to yourselves please). Since I've accumulated a good bit of gear to go with my giggle water, I'm frequently rummaging through my heap of tools and assorted cocktail-making paraphernalia looking for those items that I end up needing more than the others. What causes certain bar tools to become absolute necessities while others drift slowly to the back of the shelf like phantoms, eventually forgotten?

Who knows? Everybody's got their favorite tools, and while there are some constants, the stuff we use to make drinks can be mighty varied. Booze geeks are fiercely opinionated about the stuff they drink, so it only makes sense that their preferences toward the gadgets they employ would be just as intense.

Much like Jeffrey's knife, Tiare's jigger, or Matt's "Murdler", I've discovered I have a piece of beloved barware that I consider indispensible and use more than any other:

The Frankenshaker.

Reminiscent of Eddie Van Halen's legendary "Frankenstrat", its ugly, made up of disparate components, and gets the job done like nobody's business. It's essentially a Boston shaker with none of the parts matching, and I reach for it almost 100% percent of the time.

What makes this motley assemblage so dear to my heart? Lemme break it down:

1) Tin: First off, I'm not even sure it's a cocktail mixing tin. It may have been intended for milkshakes for all I know. The only indication of its origin is "Capco 18.8 stainless steel Korea" etched on the bottom. Despite being covered in nicks, scratches, and assorted abrasions, it's got nary a dent and is sturdy as heck. It's thicker than most other tins I've seen and has some pretty good heft. Not bad for a flea market find.

2) Glass: A thick-walled, hefty mixing glass with garish red, green and yellow graphics of fruit printed on it along with recipes for Whiskey Sour, Martini, Daiquiri, Manhattan and Tom Collins. It was apparently originally part of a kit that included a spoon and strainer, but mine is all by its lonesome. The printing is worn off in many places but I don't care because this baby is all about function over form. Another flea market find.

3) Strainer: A Hawthorne strainer that was included in a bartender's kit given away as swag by Plymouth gin at Tales of the Cocktail in 2008. I have several Hawthorne strainers and I find most of them either too heavy or too flimsy. This one is very balanced and feels just right to me. The Plymouth logo printed on the handle has long since rubbed off, but that just goes to show how often I use it.

When all three are used together, it's joy. The tin & glass fit together superbly, yet never get stuck, and the strainer sits in the tin comfortably, with a little bit of play (which I happen to like). Like I said, it's certainly nothing you're going to see in a design museum or upscale watering hole, but I'll take my Frankenshaker's ramshackle elegance and utilitarian charm over a shiny bit of bartop objet d'art any day.

So what's your favorite bar tool? (And don't pretend you don't have one...Dr. Bamboo knows when you're lying!)

Raspberry-Thyme Smash -or- The Case of the Curiously Oversized Muddler

For well over a year I’ve been ripping drink recipes out of magazines and collecting them in an overstuffed 3-ring binder. This must indicate I’m an optimist at heart, because at this point I’ve got way more recipes stashed than I’ll likely ever get around to making. But occasionally I pull one out, round up the requisite ingredients, and have at it.

Like a lucky game show contestant being yanked from the audience, the Raspberry-Thyme Smash was plucked out of the pile and put through its paces. It was featured in the July ‘08 issue of Bon Appetit, and looked like a promising candidate for both a great Summer beverage and a way to convince myself I’m pursuing a healthy lifestyle (It contains fruit).

Raspberry-Thyme Smash

2 fresh thyme sprigs, divided
7 fresh raspberries, divided
2 1/4 oz. gin (Hendrick's is suggested)
1 oz. simple syrup
1 oz. fresh lime juice

Remove leaves from 1 thyme sprig. Place leaves in cocktail shaker with 6 raspberries and muddle. Fill shaker with ice and add gin, simple syrup, and lime juice. Shake vigorously and strain into ice-filled highball glass. granish with raspberry threaded onto thyme sprig.

Served at the BLT Market in New York

What I didn’t realize was that this drink had a secret ingredient: A giant muddler. Actually, I should state up front that I’m pretty certain what I have is not a muddler. I speculate that it is probably some kind of antique potato masher, but it pretty much resembles a muddler (assuming your bartender is a Norse god).

This gargantuan item, like much of my barware, came courtesy of my father who ran across it at a flea market. Upon presenting me with it, he claimed that neither he nor the seller knew what it was, but since it looked vaguely like a muddler (albeit of outsized proportions), he decided to pick it up for me.

Basically, it’s a 15-inch long cylinder of hardwood that flares at one end to a diameter of almost 2 inches. It weighs approximately a pound, and is completely devoid of any decoration or inscription that would give a clue as to its origins or purpose. Ever see those belaying pins that pirates are always clobbering each other with in the movies? It’s kinda like that.

But the important thing is that it muddles. It really freakin’ muddles. But it’s not so big that it doesn’t have room to maneuver in my mixing tin, and it’s considerable length keeps me from banging my knuckles against the rim. There’s also enough handle available to grip it in a variety of ways, so as far as I’m concerned, this thing is my new muddler.

But every time I pick it up* I feel compelled to bellow a plea to some pagan spirit and tear my shirt off (I make all drinks in the privacy of my own home, so mercifully no one will have to witness this awful spectacle).

So I take it as some sort of cosmic coincidence that the Muddler of the Gods™ showed up right around the time I found the Raspberry-Thyme Smash. The drink is wonderful, and everything a refreshing Summertime sipper should be. It is supremely balanced, and flavor-wise all the ingredients meld perfectly. So get some fresh raspberries while they’re still in season and try this one out!

And remember- when muddling, use your legs, not your back. And have a friend help you if necessary.



*something I was initially unable to do, until I began a rigorous weight-training regimen.

Irrational Crush

I’m not a gadget guy. I have a severe Luddite streak that makes me skeptical of many consumer goods that have a limited purpose or in some cases seem to be altogether unnecessary. It’s not that I’m anti-technology…there are many modern inventions (contact lenses, air conditioning, computers) that I consider to be indispensable parts of my daily life. What I’m talking about are those items that are designed not to fill a genuine need or solve a problem, but rather exist solely to separate a potential buyer from his or her money for dubious reasons. If you’ve ever flipped through a Brookstone or Sharper Image catalog, you know what I’m talking about.

However, I’m not totally immune to the “Gee whiz!” syndrome, and occasionally find myself yearning for a doodad that 98% of the world doesn’t need, but is considered vital for the other 2%.

Like a manual ice crusher.

When I began investigating how to make decent drinks, I noticed many recipes that called for crushed ice (Fellow tiki drink fans know what I’m talking about). I had readily available cubes, but crushed ice was a bit more elusive. After the usual poking around, I discovered at least 3 options:

1) Blender method: I own a blender that has a “crush ice” setting, and I thought this might be the answer…but it was pretty disappointing. My initial excitement quickly faded when I realized that on this setting the blades practically atomized the ice in the lower third of the blender while leaving the cubes at the top untouched. Bleh. On to option #2.

2) Wrap-in-cloth-and-whack-with-something method: This yielded better results than the blender, but was still far from ideal. I used several different cloths, and several different whackers, but things always turned out the same: The ice was irregularly crushed, and much of it remained stuck to the cloth. Also, the process is loud as hell, and scared the bejeezus out of my cats.

3) Manual ice crusher method: A revelation. If you don't have one, get one as soon as possible.

Here’s the deal. Fancy-schmancy kitchenware stores sell new ones for as much as fifty bucks. My advice is to hit up garage sales, thrift stores, flea markets or online auction sites for old ones. The one I have came courtesy of my father who found it at a flea market for five bucks. It’s at least 30 years old, built like a tank, and will easily fit in your liquor cabinet. And it was one of FIVE he spotted in a single afternoon, so they definitely can be found in the wild.

It’s also a great example of simplicity and elegance in design. Dump ice cubes in the top, turn the hand crank, and collect your crushed ice in the bottom. The whole process takes mere seconds. If you’re finicky about the texture, you can turn the handle one direction for coarse, and the other way for fine. And if you fill it entirely, it makes exactly enough ice to fill a double old-fashioned glass. My Mai Tais are now complete.

Did I mention the utterly gratifying tactile sensation of cranking the handle to grind your ice into a cocktail-ready consistency? This thing makes you EARN your drink, and no one who observes you operating it will doubt your commitment.

So yes, I do own a gadget. And its sole purpose is to make big pieces of ice into smaller pieces of ice. But us two-percenters are okay with that.