Stay Indoors. Read Books.

White Bear Cocktail

1 oz. Dry gin (A straightforward London Dry like Beefeater or Bombay does well)
2 oz. Grand Marnier
1 oz. Dry vermouth (I used my go-to brand Noilly Prat)
.25 oz. Lemon juice
3 dashes Sweet vermouth (Carpano Antica works great)
1 dash Angostura bitters

Shake everything with ice and strain into cocktail glass.

~ Adapted from "Burke's Complete Cocktail & Drinking Recipes"


At some point, the holidays were declared a time when everyone is supposed to be continually on the move. If you aren't manically hustling from store to store buying either gifts or provisions, you're supposed to be caroming from one party to the next. Neighbors, friends and employers traditionally throw all their holiday shindigs in the last few weeks of December, so there's certainly no shortage of reasons to leave the house.

But what if you hate leaving the house this time of year? Extroverts love the kind of relentless human contact that takes place at year's end, but what if you're the sort of person who'd rather just stay inside, lay dormant, and wait things out?

Look, I love a party as much as anyone. I enjoy throwing on the Santa hat and sloshing the nog when the opportunity presents itself. But there's a limit, and it's during these times I can appreciate the wisdom of bears. Hibernation is a very underrated state of being, and it can serve you well.

Case in point: Retreating from the Yuletide maelstrom allows more time to browse old bar guides for worthwhile cocktails. I found a fairly decent one in a pocket-sized tome from 1936 by a guy named Harman Burney Burke. I kicked the tires on the White Bear Cocktail and took it for a couple test drives with the assistance of the Bamboo Babe. Experimenting with a few dry gins and a few vermouths, we declared the drink sound, but lacking in one small area: tartness. The addition of a simple quarter-ounce of lemon juice pulls it out of the doldrums and adds the requisite snap.

(Also, I suppose that having tinkered with the recipe, I should follow the tradition of changing the drink's name. If anyone has a suggestion, feel free to offer it up. However, it's probably too late to propose it to Mr. Burke for inclusion in a future edition, since I'm guessing he's been attending the Great Happy Hour in the Sky for some time now.)

So if you're the type of person who loves the cavalcade of holiday revelry, I raise my glass to you and admire your stamina- Have one for me, and I'll catch up with you sometime in March. Until then, I'll be huddled beneath a stack of drink books* and making notes.



* They're surprisingly warm. Particularly the hardcover editions.

Whole Grain Mixology: Ginger-Mint Syrup

Etienne

3 oz. Citadelle Reserve
.75 oz. ginger-mint syrup*
.5 oz. lime juice
1 Dash Angostura bitters

Shake everything with ice and strain into cocktail glass. Garnish with thin pear slice. (If you want to get fancy, cut it in the shape of a crown).



A while back I did a post entitled Whole Grain Mixology wherein I talked about how fun it is to make your own drink ingredients. I still think it's fun, and even more so when you go off-book and experiment with your own ideas.

I can't recall exactly what prompted it, but at some point I had a notion that mint and ginger might work well together, so I grabbed 'em both and took a stab at making a syrup. I thought the results weren't half bad, so the next step was finding a spirit to hitch it to.

I figured gin would be a good starting point. I had a small amount of Citadelle Reserve that seemed to be urging me from its spot on the shelf to pick it up and put it in the shaker (much like the One Ring exerted a pull on Frodo, enticing him to use it,** certain liquors will do likewise to a cocktail enthusiast). A healthy splash of lime juice and a dose of Ango sewed things up nicely, so I decided this was one worth writing down. Chalk up another one for making ingredients from scratch.

Next time: Bulgur wheat bitters!


*to make ginger-mint syrup: Get a decent-sized piece of fresh ginger. A good piece of ginger should be somewhat heavy and feel hard to the touch (if it the skin looks wrinkly or shriveled and feels squishy, keep looking). Cut off a hunk a little bigger than your thumb , peel it, and cut it julienne style.

Toss your ginger sticks into a saucepan with 1.5 cups sugar and 1 cup water over medium heat. Stir continuously until sugar is completely dissolved, and remove from heat. Take 5 or 6 large fresh mint leaves and gently roll them between your hands to release the minty goodness. Toss 'em into the ginger syrup, cover the pan, and let it sit for about 2 hours. Strain into the container of your choice (I like Berentzen Apfelkorn bottles because they're skinny and don't take up much space in my fridge) and refrigerate.

** Yeah, I made a Tolkien reference to illustrate part of the cocktail-making process. Don't act like you haven't seen things far geekier than this.

Tailspin/Bijou/Oh Come On Already

This month I somehow managed to not forget Mixology Monday
(something I'm exceptionally skilled at), so I really wanted to find something decent to whip up. Considering the theme is "money" (which according to the rules could be interpreted as using "the good stuff" to prepare a top-shelf version of an otherwise pedestrian cocktail), I was eager to find an old concoction and dress it up nice-like with some quality ingredients. Plunging into my modest collection of bar guides, I unearthed a recipe I thought fit the bill pretty well: The Tailspin.

I pulled the Tailspin from the 1936 edition of the Old Mr. Boston DeLuxe Official Bar-tender's Guide and it looked like a winner: Gin, green Chartreuse, and sweet vermouth in equal proportions all topped off with a dash of orange bitters. I like all those ingredients, so it was the perfect drink to spruce up with some of the spiffier denizens of my liquor cabinet. Here's what I ended up with:

Tailspin (as written)

1/3 Old Mr. Boston Dry Gin
1/3 Italian Vermouth
1/3 Green Chartreuse
Dash Orange Bitters

Sir well in ice and strain into 3 oz. cocktail glass Squeeze lemon peel on top and serve with cherry or olive.


Tailspin (my "money" version)

3/4 oz. Old Raj 110 proof dry gin
3/4 oz. Carpano Antica sweet vermouth
3/4 oz. Green Chartreuse
1 Dash Angostura Orange bitters

Sir well with ice and strain into 3 oz. cocktail glass Garnish with lemon twist.


A couple notes about this recipe:

1) The Tailspin comes out a rich amber color and is gorgeous to look at. On the tongue it's a pungent medley of herbal goodness, with dense, powerful flavors from top to bottom. It's slightly on the sweet side, but there's enough alcohol presence to rein it in. The saffron-infused Old Raj brings another flavor component into the mix with the Carpano and Chartreuse, and definitely ratchets the whole affair up a notch or two. For comparison, I made one using some other dry gins, and while they ended up producing a sharper, brighter drink, the Old Raj version has more depth and will probably be my go-to recipe.

2) Half the cocktail blogging community has discussed this freaking drink to death already.

I discovered this when I did a simple search online for "Tailspin Cocktail." I made several versions of the drink, took notes, and thought I'd better just take a quick peek and see if anyone else had tried it out too. A BUNCH of people had (Did I mention I'm frequently "late to the party" where this kind of thing is concerned?). And there was much discussion of what this drink actually contained, and what it should be called. Turns out the Tailspin is very similar to a drink called the Bijou, and that similarity has contributed to a good bit of head-scratching and bewilderment amongst us booze geeks.

On my end, I was using a series of Mr. Boston's editions spanning 70-some-odd years as my starting point, and these books revealed some interesting quirks, both mixological and editorial. I compared Tailspin and Bijou recipes in the editions I had, and here's what I found:

1936 edition: Exact same recipe, except the Bijou is garnished w/ a cherry *only*, instead of a hunk of lemon peel and cherry/olive for the Tailspin. Also, the ingredients are listed in a different order for some reason.

1940 edition: Same as in the 1936 edition, except now the Bijou is supposed to be shaken.

1959 edition: Same as the 1940 edition.

1966 edition: Same as in the 1959 edition, except now they want the Bijou to be stirred again.

1996 edition: Same as in the 1966 edition

2009 edition: Bijou same as in the 1996 edition, but the Tailspin now has a dash of Campari in place of the orange bitters.

Moving on to other bar guides, I consulted The Official Mixer's Manual by Patrick Gavin Duffy, which lists the Bijou as being the same gin/Chartreuse/vermouth/bitters combo, but with only a lemon peel as garnish. I also found it listed in The Ultimate Book of Cocktails which indicated that curacao could be substituted for bitters and that Plymouth gin must be used.

If you're still with me at this point (God help you), you've probably determined I'm a bit of a masochist. Allow me to reinforce that assessment by providing just a few links to some places where the Bijou and/or Tailspin discussion has taken place.

Oh Gosh!

Cocktailnerd

Cocktail Chronicles

Underhill Lounge

The Spirit World

If you looked at any of those (including the comments), you can see that going online often raises as many questions as it answers. So is there a conclusion to be drawn here? It seems there's a loose consensus that when made with Campari, it's a Tailspin. When made with orange bitters, it's a Bijou. It really depends on the source though. This sort of thing is what makes the type of alcoholic archaeology we practice simultaneously exciting and frustrating.

And I'm beginning to see why sometimes it's easier to just get a damn gin & tonic.

Fails of the Cocktail

Here in the Liquor Lab we endeavor to do the best we can when making drinks. If we're making a classic, established cocktail, we attempt to do the necessary research so as to have at least a cursory idea of what it is we're doing. Bar guides are perused, online resources are tapped and fellow booze nerds are consulted.

If we're trying our hand at coming up with an original drink, the process is similar, although a lot more trail-and-error is involved. Still, the goal is the same: To make a drink that someone will enjoy...and hopefully want again.

This has been on my mind lately because the annual hooch-centric extravaganza known as Tales of the Cocktail is less than a month away, and I'm looking forward to marinating in a continuous stream of finely-prepared cocktails assembled by a legion of skilled and talented mixologists who bring their considerable powers to bear. These folks take drink-making very seriously, and it's a wonderful experience to be on the receiving end of their abilities.

But what happens when this isn't the case? What if you don't find yourself in the capable hands of a conscientious bartender? What about that moment that occurs between idea and execution when things go terribly, terribly awry?

I think almost everyone who enjoys a cocktail even semi-regularly has had the misfortune of being served a drink so puzzling, so ill-fashioned, so irredeemably wrong, that it sears itself into memory. Attempts to completely block them out inevitably fail, and their resurrection can potentially be triggered by almost any drinking occasion, even years later. These unfortunate mental spectres lie dormant, almost forgotten, but always somehow spring back to the fore.

My own encounter with a very wrong drink occurred several years ago, and went pretty much like this...

At a wedding reception held in a fairly nice country club-type place, I approached what looked to be a reasonably well-appointed bar. The staff was polite, sharply dressed, and was speedily (though not carelessly) dispensing cocktails. To all appearances , this was a crew who knew what they were doing, and I was optimistic.

I was in the mood for a Martini, and I figured its few ingredients and ease of construction would make it a good choice as far as the staff was concerned...I try not to make anyone's life difficult if I can help it. As I stepped to the bar, one of the bartenders slid over and I was glad to see he had a head of fully gray hair. He was well into his fifties at least, and I thought to myself, "If anyone here knows how to make a Martini, it's this guy."

He gruffly asked what I'd like, and my response was, "Could I get a Martini?"

Now, there are times in one's life when you say something and immediately realize you never should have said what just emerged from your mouth. These are the times when you wish life had a rewind button. This was one of those times. Whatever instinct that signaled me I should never have asked for a Martini from this particular gentleman at this particular event came about 3 seconds late.

His expression immediately turned sour, and with a grunt, he rummaged below the bar and produced a bottle of gin.* Next, he swiftly placed a clear plastic cup that resembled a miniature double-old-fashioned glass on the bar and shoveled three small, dripping ice cubes into it. The final step was to haphazardly slosh an indeterminate amount of gin into the cup. He then pushed the drink my way and briskly spun off without a word to attend to someone else. The entire transaction took approximately 8 seconds.

I won't even attempt to itemize the myriad ways in which this drink was wrong. Like many drinks, the Martini is subject to a degree of personal interpretation, but there are some ground rules nonetheless. (and if you read this blog, I'm confident you know what they are). This drink violated a bunch of them.

Like a dope, I actually took a couple sips. I don't know what I was expecting, but a lukewarm plastic cup of gin did not transmogrify into a bracing, refreshing cocktail just because I wished really hard. Maybe some perverse part of me wanted to see just how bad it actually could be. I found out, and relegated it to the nearest trash can.

Let's just say that bad booze +bad preparation + bad customer relations = lousy drink.

This isn't meant to be an indictment of this particular bartender- Who knows why he made such a poor drink? (misleading tips from dubious online bartending videos may be the culprit. Jeffrey Morgenthaler has been unearthing tons of them lately) . If there's a lesson here, I think it's that a bad drink can be just as memorable as a good one. Maybe more so. However, I've had far more good drinks** than bad ones, so I chalk that up as a win overall. But when the opportunity presents itself, I still like to ask people:

What's the worst drink you've ever had?



* I can't recall the specific brand, but it was not good. Really not good.

** Several of these were made during Mixology Monday, which happens to be today...and I completely forgot about it yet again.

Sample Jamboree and Traveling In Your Own Mind

Blimps over Bangkok

1 oz. Mekhong
1 oz. London dry gin
.5 oz. Aperol
.5 oz. Cynar
.5 oz. simple syrup
1-2 dashes Fee’s mint bitters

Shake all ingredients with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Float a very thin lime wheel on surface of drink.

I don’t travel much. But I do have a healthy wanderlust, and I satisfy it vicariously through TV shows, books, magazine articles, and travelogues on the Web. Cocktails also will do the trick, in their own way.

Sometimes a cocktail will be the catalyst for a journey that takes place entirely within your own mind. Aided by the smell, taste and appearance of a well-crafted drink, your imagination can take you down roads and rivers even though your body remains at rest. You needn’t leave your recliner or barstool- The trick is simply to have the right beverage.

I was recently experimenting with a bottle of Mekhong, and ended up making a drink that kick-started one of these mental journeys. The combination of flavors, aromas and colors had my mind drifting along the currents of a 19th-century adventure epic…a sepia-toned, steampunk saga replete with bold travelers questing for knowledge, experience, and perhaps a little treasure. Peering through goggles at faded maps, explorers clawed their way through dripping jungles and glided above crumbling temples in rickety, patchwork airships.

No doubt they needed the ropes, machetes, compasses, and rifles they packed at the outset. The one-of-a-kind book of ancient symbols purchased at the bazaar might be handy. And that shiny little talisman the old man in the hut gave them certainly couldn’t hurt. Everyone can use a little magic now and then.

Who knows exactly what they encountered? Were they imperiled by creatures only thought to exist in myth? Had their resolve been tested by treading upon forbidden pathways? Did they commune with a lost race of people, receiving a glimpse into unseen realms?

Regardless, I’m sure the travelers used their wits and whatever other resources they commanded to make their way home again. There were likely a few scars and certainly some good stories. Maybe even a strange, ancient object to hang on the wall of the club…a tangible reminder to be pondered while sipping a well-made and well-deserved cocktail.

Have a drink. Take a trip.

Sample Jamboree and the Strange Allure of Unpopular Ingredients

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have a strange fascination with drink ingredients that no one seems to like. I don’t know whether I simply feel sorry for them in an orphaned-puppy kind of way, or if it’s more of a desire to find a way to successfully employ something everyone else has deemed unusable. Probably a bit of both.

One ingredient that appears to have been resoundingly written off by the cocktail community (or at least the part of it I communicate with regularly) is Zirbenz Stone Pine Liqueur. (I‘ve also seen it listed as “Zirbenz Stone Pine Liqueur of the Alps“, which to me sounds less like a beverage and more like a 1920’s adventure novel . For the sake of brevity, I’ll just call it “Zirbenz” from here on out).

Does this innocent distillate deserve to be lumped in with the other pariahs of the drink world? I should clarify right up front that I’m not saying Zirbenz isn’t good…it’s just that I don’t know anyone who uses it.* I know several people who own a bottle, but rarely (if ever) go back to it after the initial breaking of the seal. Whether this is because they don’t care for the taste or find it difficult to mix with I can’t say. What I can say is that I hate to see something get kicked to the back of the liquor cabinet without a fair shake. And I also have a sick compulsion to salvage stuff that gets rejected. The more people claim something is unworkable, the more I’m intrigued by it and endeavor to find a use for it.

For those that haven’t sampled it, it’s piney. Extremely piney. Imagine grinding up a Christmas wreath, adding the floor sweepings from a 7th-grade shop class and steeping it in a jug of Everclear for a month. Now you’ve got the picture. Which again, doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s just that a lot of people appear to have an aversion to things that taste of evergreen. Rick over at Kaiser Penguin recently discussed this in his investigation into why gin is such a hard-sell for many people.

Without going into the boring details of my personal quest to redeem Zirbenz, I’ll cut to the chase and say that I found gin to be an excellent base spirit to combine it with. I also discovered later on while browsing the Zirbenz site** that plenty of other folks apparently thought so too- most of the recipes listed are gin-centric.

So it’s at this point you’re probably thinking, “By all that is good and decent, why in the world would you pair a pine liqueur with another ingredient whose detractors cite overwhelming pine flavor as its biggest flaw?”

The answer is that I spent a tremendous amount of time and energy combining Zirbenz with virtually every other brand and style of base spirit in my liquor cabinet until I could definitively say that gin works best.

Actually, this is a complete lie. I came up with a drink name first and then hoped that the combination of ingredients that reflected the name would actually make a decent drink. The cosmic forces that govern booze nerd activity must have been on my side, because I think it actually does…


Zirbenz Kingsley

1.5 oz. gin
.5 oz. Zirbenz
2-3 dashes orange bitters
3 oz. tonic

Build first 3 ingredients in rocks glass with ice. Top with tonic and stir. Garnish with lime wedge.


Yep, it’s a just a Gin & Tonic. With Zirbenz. And a blip of bitters to wrap it all up. (It also helps the drink immensely to squeeze the lime wedge into it.)

A simple drink to be sure, but here’s the trick: The gin makes or breaks it. I won’t reveal how many different ones I tried, but I found that a lot of straightforward London drys don’t work well. Plymouth isn’t bad, but the ones I’d put at the top of the heap were North Shore #6 and Right. They’re both very soft, and I think it’s exactly this lack of sharpness that makes them match up so well with the Zirbenz, dulling it’s bite and making it whisper rather than shout. (I take this as some kind of divine sign, since both these gins arrived right in the middle of my experimentation period.)

So the moral of the story is this: If you’ve got some ingredient that just doesn’t seem to work in anything no matter what you try, do the following:

1) Persevere. There’s gotta be a use for it somewhere.
2) Tell me what it is. I have an irrational need to find homes for these things.




*I realize this sounds embarrassingly similar to the quote often (and apparently inaccurately) attributed to Pauline Kael about Nixon’s ‘72 presidential victory. Rest assured, I’m aware that someone has got to be using it.

**I also realized that I’m out of Zirbenz and need to get some more. I’ll bet there aren’t many people who have actually uttered those words.

Iberian Dawn, Trans-Europe Express, and Thursday Drink Night

As has been noted elsewhere, there’s a great gig that happens every week here in the electronic ether. It’s called Thursday Drink Night, and it attracts all manner of adult beverage enthusiasts. It’s open to everyone, and it’s a hell of a lot of fun.

What exactly is Thursday Drink Night? I like to think of it as something vaguely akin to the TV show Iron Chef…but with booze. And a lot more participants.

Every Thursday night, these drink-tinkerers gather in the TDN chatroom to swap recipes based around a theme. Many drinks are conceived on-the-spot, and everyone gets a chance to discuss the results. It’s a nifty, no-pressure social event that never fails to entertain and educate. Plus, there’s no cover charge! (but it is BYOB).

Periodically, TDN is sponsored, which gives the attendees the chance to chat with the people behind the brands showcased that particular week. This was the case recently when Sandeman kindly sponsored the festivities and everyone got to fiddle with port. Many drink recipes were spawned that night, and yours truly contributed a couple to the roster:


Iberian Dawn

.5 oz. Sandeman tawny 10 yr. old port
.25 oz. Cointreau
2 dashes Fee’s peach bitters
Sparkling wine (I recommend a brut cava )

Put first 3 ingredients in Champagne flute. Fill with cava and enjoy!



Trans-Europe Express

1 oz. London Dry Gin
.75 oz. Sandeman Founder’s Reserve
.5 oz. St. Germain elderflower liqueur

Build over ice in rocks glass and squeeze in a lime wedge. Stir and enjoy!


The Trans-Europe Express is a great example of just how fun TDN can be. Soon after I submitted the recipe, a few people commented that they thought the drink would be better served by using Domaine de Canton ginger liqueur instead of St. Germain. This new version was immediately whipped up, assessed, and declared to be a perfectly suitable variation by those who tried it (assuming I’m recalling things correctly…the later hours of TDN often don’t make it to memory 100% intact. Fortunately, transcripts are available). This spirit of communal trial-and-error is, for me, a fundamental part of what makes TDN so enjoyable.

(By the way, if you prefer the version with the Canton, it’s called the Trans-Siberian Express.)

So if you’ve got A) access to the Web, B) a halfway decent liquor cabinet, and C) some free time on a Thursday evening, swing by and get in on the fun! Click here to belly up to the bar.

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.

Capetown Collins

Capetown Collins

2 oz. Gin (Any straightforward London dry should do the trick)
½ oz. Fresh lemon juice
2 oz. Rooibos-rosemary syrup

Place all ingredients in cocktail shaker with ice. Shake well, and strain into ice cube-filled Collins glass. Garnish with rosemary sprig.


Rooibos-rosemary syrup

Simmer one cup water, sugar, and a rosemary sprig in a medium saucepan, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Add 1½ teaspoons loose rooibos tea leaves and let steep for 1 hour. Strain through fine mesh strainer and bottle it.



Contrary to what many believe, not all my time, money and energy goes into playing with booze. I sometimes play with food too. Noting this, generous family members have given me subscriptions to several food magazines, among them Bon Appetit, from which I ganked the above recipe.

In the May ‘08 issue, someone had written to the magazine asking for the recipe for the Capetown Collins, which is served at a place called No. 9 Park. I figured if someone liked a drink enough to write to a magazine to find out the particulars, it’s probably worth a go. Plus, it contains gin…and as an avowed gin evangelist, I need to promote it’s use whenever possible.

Long story short: I really liked it. It’s a great warm-weather choice (the Bamboo Babe envisioned it as a fine option for occasions when you find yourself outdoors on a thick, humid night). The rooibos-rosemary syrup is a nice flavor combo and matches up with the gin and lemon perfectly. It’s nicely balanced too, although if you like your drinks more on the tart side (like me), just scale back the syrup until you get it where you like it.

Cold drink. Lawn chairs. Bare feet in grass. You get the idea.


A note about where to find rooibos tea: I got mine at the local food co-op (hippies always have the best tea selection), so you’re likely to find it at places like organic grocers, health food stores, and decent coffee/tea joints.

Identity Crisis

I’ve noticed a fine tradition among many boozebloggers is to try a recipe and then tinker with it to suit their personal taste. I’ve done this occasionally, but more often than not, I tend to be happy with the initial results yielded by most recipes. I take this to mean one of two things:

1) I’m fairly lucky when selecting a particular recipe
2) I’ve got pretty low standards

Regardless, when I was looking for a high-octane drink to try out for this month’s MxMo (kindly hosted by Rick over at Kaiser Penguin), I figured I wouldn’t have too much difficulty finding something tasty and interesting. I scrounged up a candidate in Alex Barker’s 1001 Cocktails, and here’s the recipe exactly as it appears in the book:

Indian Summer

1 measure vodka
2 measures Kahlua
1 measure gin
2 measures pineapple
ice
tonic water

1) Shake the first four ingredients well over ice until frosted.
2) Strain into a medium cocktail glass or wine glass and top up with tonic water to taste.

(I took “measure” to mean “ounce” in order to satisfy the minimum alcohol content requirement)

The tinkering began immediately. I felt that instead of straining it into a cocktail/wine glass, this drink needed to be served over crushed ice in a double-rocks glass (if for no other reason than a double-rocks would be able to hold more). Other than that, I prepared it as indicated.

It was, well, okay. Tasty? Sort of. Interesting? Not terribly. The Kahlua and pineapple completely dominated. It was also too sweet for my liking, so I wanted to get some tartness happening. I knocked a half-ounce off the Kahlua & pineapple juice, upped the gin to 1 1/2 ounces and added ¾ ounce of lime juice, resulting in this:

Something Like The Indian Summer

1 oz. vodka
1 1/2 Kahlua
1 1/2 oz. gin
1 1/2 oz. unsweetened pineapple juice
¾ oz. lime juice
tonic water

Again, I shook everything and poured it over crushed ice in a double-rocks glass, topping with tonic water. This time around the balance was better, but it still tasted primarily of Kahlua & pineapple. An improvement, but it still wasn’t doing much for me overall.

Here’s where I kinda went off the rails and realized my obsessive fiddling would be taking this drink somewhere it never intended to be. First, the tonic water seemed unnecessary- it really didn’t add anything, and it just seemed to thin the flavors, so I left that out. Second, I scaled the Kahlua back another half-ounce. Third, I eliminated the vodka and substituted one ounce of rum.

The rum I chose was Brugal anejo. I’ve had a bottle for while now, and I have yet to use it in something where I’ve liked it much. To me, it has a bit of a harsh bite that I have a tough time getting past…but bite was exactly what this drink was lacking. I also threw in a couple dashes of Angostura bitters to pull things together.

So now I had this:

Something That Really Isn’t The Indian Summer Anymore

1 ½ oz. gin
1 oz. rum (Brugal anejo)
1 oz. Kahlua
1 ½ oz unsweetened pineapple juice
¾ oz. lime juice
2 hearty dashes of Angostura bitters

I shook it all and once more used the trusty double-rocks/crushed ice combo. And I actually didn’t think it turned out too bad. The rum and bitters give it some decent spice, and the ingredients seem to level out much better. It’s got some depth, and I like it.

Keen-eyed readers will of course notice this haphazard concoction is seriously verging on tiki territory (if it isn’t already there). For all I know, there may be actually be a tiki-style drink that uses this exact combination of ingredients- I’ll have to check that out sometime. Either way, I don’t think I’m quite done fiddling yet. Perhaps a few drops of mint bitters might be in order…

Mixology Monday: Brandy

So So Cocktail

¾ oz. gin
¾ oz sweet vermouth
½ oz. Calvados
½ oz. grenadine

Stir with ice in mixing glass and strain into cocktail glass.

I have to admit that brandy is my least favorite of the base spirits. It’s not that I hate the stuff, it’s just that whenever I make a cocktail recipe containing brandy, the brandy is always the flavor I end up liking the least.

So when I saw that this month's MxMo theme ingredient was brandy, I had an idea…why not use Calvados? I like applejack, so I figured I’d be in safe territory with its cousin Calvados. (Are they cousins? Brothers? I need some brandy gurus out there to gimme a hand with this one).

Anyway, this time around I decided to give my modest collection of bar guides a breather and turn to the Internet Cocktail Database for options. I bookmarked about a half-dozen recipes containing Calvados, selected four of those to try, and decided one was blogworthy: the So So Cocktail.

I couldn’t dig up much info as to it’s origins…which is unfortunate, because it’s a really decent drink. It’s a beautiful reddish hue with orange tones (The Bamboo Babe, who moonlights as a jewelry designer tells me this color is “peach garnet”, so I’ll defer to her expertise). Also, the So So smells wonderful, and has a dry, fruity aroma that reminds me somewhat of Maraschino liqueur.

Taste-wise, it’s a great combo of ingredients. The gin gives a characteristic crispness, the vermouth softens, and the grenadine is right at the top of the heap with a hefty dose of fruity sweetness. The Calvados sneaks around in the background, both stiffening everything up and gilding the flavors. Making it even more appealing is that it seems to be a great year-round, multi-occasion drink- It’s got a chameleon-like quality that has me stumped for a situation where it would be an odd choice to serve.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to do any ingredient comparisons, since the one decent store near me only carried a single Calvados: Christian Drouin. If anyone out there can recommend other worthwhile brands, let me know…I’d love to try variations of this recipe.

And even if brandy isn't your thing, head on over to SLOSHED! and marinate in all the other goodies that the lovely and talented Marleigh has on display.

Happy Holidays!

Elixir #2

1 ½ oz. Gin
½ oz. White crème de menthe
½ oz. Maraschino liqueur
½ oz. Brandy

Combine all ingredients in ice-filled cocktail shaker and stir for 20-30 seconds. Strain into chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with lemon twist.

From the Art of the Bar by Jeff Hollinger and Rob Schwartz (adapted from Burke’s Complete Cocktail & Drinking Recipes by Harman Burney Burke, 1934)


Let's face it, cocktail choices during the holidays can leave much to be desired. You’d think with the abundance of shindigs this time of year there'd be all manner of adult beverages to indulge in. You've got office parties, visits with family, catching up with out-of-town friends at the local watering hole, and lots of other excuses to bend the elbow during the weeks between Thanksgiving and year's end. It's a tippler's paradise.

So why does it seem that no matter where you go you’re offered either egg nog or some dubious chocolate/peppermint/cinnamon concoction that delivers its yuletide spirit with the subtlety of a grease fire? (For the record, I personally love egg nog, but there's only so much of that stuff one person can reasonably be expected to shovel down. Besides, have you seen the price of nutmeg lately?)

I was looking for an alternative that sidesteps the creamy/syrupy stuff, but still manages to convey the holiday sprit. The Elixir #2 wasn't designed as a holiday drink (as far as I know), but it sure works as one. Flavor-wise, the gin & Maraschino cuddle up together nicely, evoking an earlier holiday vibe where the silver gleam of the cocktail shaker could be seen in its rightful place next to the glimmer of the tinsel on the tree. The brandy lends a nice Dickens-era feel throughout, bringing visions of a redeemed Scrooge and our festive Victorian predecessors gathered at the hearth. Finally, the crème de menthe puts a whisper of mint into the equation, giving just the slightest nod to the time of year we're celebrating.

Now if you want the cocktail equivalent of a crowded department store loudspeaker blaring Muzak carols, be my guest. But I'll fill my glass with the distant tinkling of sleigh bells heard through a snow-laden nighttime forest.

Happy Holidays...and remember to leave a bottle out for Santa!

Mixology Monday: Gin

Del Coronado

1/2 oz. unsweetened pineapple juice
1/2 oz. passion fruit syrup
2 1/2 oz. orange juice
3/4 oz. fresh lemon juice
1/4 oz. fresh lime juice
1/2 oz. papaya nectar
1 oz. gin
1 oz. dark Jamaican rum

Shake well with ice cubes and pour into tall glass.

When I saw that this month’s MxMo theme was gin, I almost collapsed under the combined weight of options and excitement. Gin is my favorite spirit, and I didn’t even know where to begin. There is a phenomenon known as “choice overload” and I was clearly experiencing it.

But help was on the way. By pure happenstance, this past weekend I had the good fortune to play bartender to three women who, in addition to being a hell of a lot of fun, also enjoy a good drink. And like myself, these gals appreciate gin.

Slowly, ideas began to coalesce. I needed a MxMo entry…and also had the opportunity to serve several drinks (many including gin) to fellow enthusiasts…surely something concrete would materialize and form the nucleus of my entry. Best not to overthink or try to engineer it- I was going to let the drinks appear and see where things went. I don’t know if it could properly be called Zen, but it was in the ballpark.

My approach was to simply offer up a fairly wide-ranging menu of drinks and see what the proceedings yielded. The plan was no-plan, allowing the evening to set it’s own agenda. Knowing my crowd was partial to gin, it was a safe bet at least one gin-based recipe would be selected and perhaps become the basis for my post...but the main question was: Would things develop into a bare-knuckle gin drink showdown with recipes, brands, and styles subjected to rigorous scrutiny? Or would we casually meander through the offerings, perhaps ending up with nothing more than a pleasant ramble through a pile of drinks?

As it turns out, it was a little bit of both. The drinks chosen fell into two rough groups: tiki and gin-based. On the tiki side, Mai Tais and Zombies showed up. On the gin side, Pimm’s cups and Corpse Reviver #2’s made the cut.

All were enjoyed to varying degrees, and during the aftermath, I thought, “Well, since the drinks everyone seemed to go for either involved gin or were tiki-style, why don’t I look for a recipe that somehow combines both?”

Turning to my dependable Beachbum Berry tomes Grog Log and Intoxica! (Shamefully, I haven’t yet picked up Sippin’ Safari…feel free to heap abuse on me at your leisure), I eventually settled upon the Del Coronado (Aside from containing gin, I think the other reason I chose it was the challenge of finding papaya nectar...thrill of the hunt and all that).

Anyway, the Del Coronado is fruity. 6 of the 8 ingredients are fruit-based, and it really shows in the overall taste. The orange jumps out front, forming the main flavor, with the passion fruit close behind. The pineapple, lemon, and lime are less noticeable, meshing together into an somewhat indistinct fruit blend, with the papaya doing a bit of drive-by tartness. Lastly, the rum reveals itself on the finish, giving a quick wave to remind you that there was actually some grown-up stuff amidst the juice…kind of like finding a tarantula lurking around in your fruit basket.

But what about the gin? In this drink the gin plays a supporting but crucial role. You don’t notice it’s flavor so much as it’s feel. This is a drink that is thick with flavors, and rather than compete with them, the gin snakes it’s way around the edges, sharpening things up and keeping it the other ingredients from bogging each other down.

Maybe it’d be easier (or at least more fun) to say it this way: If the Del Coronado was a piece of clothing, it’d be a Hawaiian shirt with a great floral print (the juices), real coconut-shell buttons (the rum) and silver thread (the gin) stitching it all together.

Sound weird? Have a couple Del Coronados and maybe it’ll make sense. Call it “gin Zen.”

If a metaphor falls in the forest…

Mixology Monday: Pairings

Martini

3 oz. Gin
1/8 oz. Dry Vermouth

Shake with plenty of ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with olive.


Celery & Stilton Soup

1 head celery, chopped
1 medium-sized yellow onion, chopped
3 tablespoons butter
3-¾ cups vegetable or chicken stock
2 egg yolks
2/3 cup half-and-half
1 cup crumbled Blue Stilton cheese (but I use at least twice this much)
salt and pepper to taste

Melt butter in a large soup pot. Gently cook celery and onion in butter until tender. Add stock and bring to a boil. Simmer 20 minutes. While soup is simmering, mix egg yolks and half-and-half in a small bowl. Stir in egg/half-and-half mixture. Crumble cheese and stir in gradually. When cheese is melted, use an immersion blender to mix everything into a smooth consistency. (If you don’t have an immersion blender, wait until the soup cools, transfer to a regular blender for mixing, then re-heat).

Adapted from The Book of Soups by Lorna Rhodes

Notes on the Martini:

There’s enough info out there on the Martini and it’s various incarnations to choke a rhino, so I’ll save my crackpot ramblings on that subject for another time. For now, I’ll just say I like mine very dry, shaken, and with an olive.

And use gin. Please.

Notes on the soup:

This soup is ridiculously easy to make, and falls squarely within the “dump & stir” category (Since I usually enjoy an adult beverage when I cook, this category is my current favorite).

It’s been my experience that those who enjoy this soup are big fans of strongly flavored cheese, so I really don’t measure the amount of Stilton I add. I usually just double the recipe, buy one of those big wedges of Stilton and throw that in. It’s a very flexible recipe…just adjust the ratio of celery to Stilton however you like.

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For this month's MxMo hosted by the lovely and talented Natalie over at The Liquid Muse, I quickly realized what the food half of the theme would be. The Bamboo Babe and I have a very good friend who has declared this soup a mandatory menu item whenever we all get together. Consequently, when we make the drive to her place, the first item in the car is my 16-quart soup pot.

In addition to being a long-time food industry professional, our pal is also well underway to becoming a certified sommelier, which makes her a deadly double-threat on the food & drink front. Needless to say, whenever we find ourselves at her place, the proceedings rapidly shift into a decadent frenzy of food and wine (often before I have the key completely out of the ignition).

A quick note about the wine and where it lives- Her collection is housed in a built-in climate-controlled setup in her basement. But calling it merely a “basement” would be doing it a disservice. The lower floor of her house is a full-tilt, utterly tricked-out bachelorette pad with wet bar, insanely comfortable seating, flat-screen TV and the aforementioned wine stash. Imagine if Batman was female, and she replaced all the crime computers and lab equipment in the Batcave with state-of-the art entertainment goodies and you get the idea. The only flaw is that you have to take stairs to get to it...no Bat-poles yet.

Anyway, when we’re not demolishing her wine stash like grape-crazed locusts, we’re usually indulging in the occasional cocktail. This is how we discovered that a bowl of celery & Stilton soup goes really well with a bowl of loudmouth soup.

I won’t even attempt to break down the how’s and why’s of the pairing - I’d probably botch it. All I can say is that through sheer happenstance we tripped across a great combo. The afternoon I whipped up a pot of the soup we were having Martinis all around and soon discovered a little Stilton with your See-through is not a bad thing at all. Give it a shot- preferably with several of your friends.

Oh, and if the soup isn’t enough to satisfy your cheese jones, get some decent olives, remove the pits, and replace them with some Stilton. Then sterilize them in your Martini before consuming. (For extra fun, wait until everyone has had a couple of Martinis, then start passing around the olive pitter).


(Epilogue: Mere days after the visit, our host mentioned in passing that the surface of her brand-new ceramic-top stove had developed a huge crack, rendering it unusable. I suggested that perhaps a witless houseguest exceeded the safe performance envelope by using it to put a 16-quart vat of soup on the boil. Gracious as always, our host strongly assured me that the demise of the stove had absolutely nothing to do with my antics in her kitchen.

I just think she’s afraid I won’t make the soup again.

Mixology Monday: Blog Love

Dr. Bamboo, or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Blog

For this month's MxMo my intent was to try a recipe I found over at Intoxicated Zodiac that called for gin, lime juice, simple syrup, and rose water. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to lay my hands on any rose water (not being able to locate a key ingredient is a recurring motif in my adventures).

However, I still had an ample supply of gin and limes. That, combined with Paul’s invitation to do a bit of navel-gazing on the nature of booze-blogging got me going in a whole new direction. Serendipity ahoy!

As I looked at that proud, clear bottle I began thinking about gin…which got me thinking about the Gin & Tonic…which made me realize if it weren’t for the Gin & Tonic, I may not have arrived at the point where I spend many an evening and weekend hunched over the kitchen counter, poring through drink recipes and feeling compelled to toss my findings out here on the web. To put it simply, the Gin & Tonic was the was the first drink I took seriously. (But if you want to see two people who really take the Gin & Tonic seriously, check out these recent posts over at Jimmy's Cocktail Hour and The Art of Drink).

My first brush with gin was not long after I graduated from college. A friend asked me if I’d ever had a Gin & Tonic, and when I’d said no (my only forays into hard liquor had been rum and bourbon), he ordered me one from the bar. I remember liking it immediately, and for the next several years the Gin & Tonic was my drink of choice. (This would change when I encountered my first Martini, but that’s a story for another post).

Gin was a mystery to me. No one I knew drank it. All my friends were devotees of the Brown Stuff (the aforementioned rum & bourbon, almost always dumped haphazardly into a large plastic cup of Coke) and of course vodka, which was a staple for any college student due to it’s “mix-it-with-anything” allure. Tequila (invariably the cheap stuff) occasionally showed up on my radar, but seemed to be consumed solely in shot form by those who considered a social occasion successful only if they awoke the next day sans pants. Brandy was unheard of, but there was a full-tilt schnapps craze in effect, so at any party you were guaranteed to see at least one brightly-colored bottle lurking among the offerings, waiting for it’s next victim (usually female, extroverted, and weighing far less than required for the amount she drank).

Family wasn’t much help either. My father was (and still is) a bourbon guy. My mother rarely drank, and when she did, her tastes ran to the occasional glass of wine, or if on a vacation, a Pina Colada. One grandmother never strayed far from red wine and Black Russians, and I don’t recall the other one’s preferences exactly, but I know they didn’t include gin.

And whenever I asked anyone about gin, I almost always got one of two responses:

#1 (If the person was under 40) “Eeeeyuck! I had that stuff once and it tasted like paint thinner!”

#2 (If the person was over 40) “I think your great-grandmother/father/aunt/uncle used to drink something with gin in it.”

I’d also occasionally get a vague reference to a character from a black-and-white movie. Or someone’s golfing buddy. It seemed that gin was exclusively the domain of classic cinema, the country club set, and the elderly.

Nonetheless, I soldiered on, evangelizing my favorite spirit and proudly brandishing my stubby glass filled with gin, tonic, ice and a plucky little lime wedge- A drink I felt was much, much more than the sum of its parts.

Between then and now I’ve discovered many more great gin drinks. And I’m glad to see that gin seems to finally be shaking off it’s reputation as a stodgy, obscure spirit perennially eclipsed by the other guys on the shelf. I’d like to think that the Gin & Tonic is playing a role somehow. I’m sentimental about the humble G&T; It was the drink that made me realize that hard liquor had more promise than just hastily splashed-together “2-for-1 night” specials and charmless pours in cobwebby clubs.

So rather than presenting a hard recipe, I encourage you to explore the Gin & Tonic on your own. Unlike when I first ran across gin, there is now a great selection of brands and styles. There are also some wonderful new tonics popping up here and there, so pick up a few and start experimenting. Find something you like. Make the Gin & Tonic your drink in some special way.

And if you discover that you really like fiddling with drink recipes to the point where you simply must tell someone about it…I hear there’s a bunch of people on the web who are really into this stuff.

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One last note: Since we’re talking about Blog Love, I’d be dropping the ball in a big way if I didn’t give a hearty shout to Rick over at Kaiser Penguin. KP was one of the first booze blogs I discovered, and I became a regular reader on the spot. Rick has an unerring intuition where good recipes are concerned, and his ability to communicate their subtleties is amazing. And anyone who has seen his site knows it goes without saying that his photos are superb. They make me want to climb through the screen to get at ‘em.

Other people must think so too- there’s a reason his site shows up on almost everybody’s links list.

Rick was also the one who first urged me to start my own booze blog, patiently answering my questions and providing an abundance of great tips & advice. Thanks for all the encouragement Rick! (By the way, I’m saving all my State Store receipts so you can reimburse me at your convenience).

UPDATE: Robert Hess joins the G&T discussion with a great piece over at The Spirit World.

Pearl of Wisdom

Pearl of Wisdom

1 oz. dry white sake
1 oz. cherry brandy
1 oz. gin
2 oz. sweet and sour mix
Approx. half a lime's worth of juice (just enough to add tartness & a little pulp)
Splash of club soda

Place a Maraschino cherry or pearl onion (the pearl) in the bottom of a tall pilsner glass and cover with a couple inches of crushed ice.

Shake all ingredients (except club soda) with ice and strain into the prepared glass. Add club soda.

Garnish with a lime wheel and a pair of chop sticks. Place a fortune cookie on the rim of the glass.

Once served, the idea is to retrieve the "pearl" with the chop sticks then learn your fortune from the cookie.


This one comes direct from tiki enthusiast and carver extraordinaire Finkdaddy. In addition to creating incredible carvings & sculptures, Finkdaddy is a fan of adult beverages, and he recently submitted his original recipe, 'The Pearl of Wisdom."

This drink is outstanding.

Finkdaddy himself describes it as a variant of the Singapore Sling, and says it has been a big hit with friends and family. After trying it, I can easily see why.

The Pearl of Wisdom is a great example of a tiki-style drink, striking a wonderful balance between tart and sweet. The cherry and lime match up well, and combine to form the main flavors. There is a great citrus taste throughout, and the whole thing is unbelieveably refreshing.

The secret weapon here is the sake. It pulls the other ingredients together and puts a soft, dry tone on everything. As for brands, Finkdaddy recommends Momokawa Diamond, but not being able to find it locally, I substituted their Ruby and it was fantastic nonetheless.

Also, I'm generally not a fan of bottled mixes, but the sweet and sour works very well here. Just make sure you get some fresh stuff- this isn't the time to use up the remains of that derelict bottle that's been in the back of the fridge since last Summer.

Overall, if I had to choose between this and the Singapore Sling, I'm certain I'd take this one almost every time. The Pearl of Wisdom is drier and crisper, whereas the Sling is sweeter and fruitier. They're both great drinks, but I found the subtleties of the Pearl of Wisdom more appealing.

If you've been looking for incentive to buy a bottle of sake or cherry brandy, this is it. I can't recommend it highly enough.

And if you have a few minutes, check out Finkdaddy's excellent work at his site, The Leeward Lounge. You can also see additional pieces in this thread over at the Tiki Central forums.

Rendevous

Rendevous

3 oz. gin
1 oz. cherry brandy (I used Cherry Heering)
1/2 oz. Campari

Combine ingredients with ice in cocktail shaker and shake well. Strain into chilled cocktail glass and garnish with fresh cherry.


This one comes from The Martini Book by Sally Ann Berk. Unfortunately, the book lists no information on the history of the drink, so I have no idea as to it's origins.

The drink itself is a great blend of flavors. The gin lays back and provides a relatively neutral foundation for the brandy & Campari to come forward. Although you initially get the zap of the brandy/Campari combo, you can still detect the gin lurking around the edges.

At first glance, I was a little leery of a drink that used both gin and brandy. I had a vague perception of gin as a "cool" spirit and brandy as "warm", and wondered if they'd work well together. After trying this recipe I think they do work well together, and I'm definitely going to scrounge up more recipes that combine them.

Overall, the Rendevous is one of those drinks where the first sip or two may come across a little harsh, but stay with it- everything smooths out quickly and all the flavors really reveal themselves. Being that all three ingredients contain alcohol, it falls into the "all killer, no filler" category, but it's a very evenly-flavored drink despite it's strength.

A quick note on gin: I'd recommend using one of the crisper-tasting brands (i.e. Bombay, Tanqueray, Broker's) as opposed to a "big" gin like Bluecoat or Hendrick's where the aromatics and infusions are up front- You'll pile too much herbal flavor on top of the already punchy Campari and end up with a drink that's too flowery.

Satan's Whiskers

Satan's Whiskers Cocktail (Curled)

1/2 oz. gin
1/2 oz. dry vermouth
1/2 oz. sweet vermouth
1/2 oz. orange juice
2 teaspoons orange Curacao
1 teaspoon orange bitters

Shake with ice and strain into cocktail glass. Garnish with orange twist.


I have to admit the name of this drink played a major part in my choosing it. Who wouldn't be intrigued?

The Satan's Whiskers Cocktail is another selection from Vintage Spirits & Forgotten Cocktails, which list two variants: straight and curled. The straight version substitutes Grand Marnier for the Curacao, and I tried 'em both.


Curled:

The bitters really comes through in this one. Of all the ingredients, it seems to be the one that asserts itself right up front but also lingers on the finish. Aside from the bitters, there's a noticeable orange flavor throughout, but it's not dominant.

My overall impression is that this version would work equally well as an after-meal drink (due to the hefty dose of bitters), or as part of a summertime menu paired with something like barbeque or grilled chicken.


Straight:

I definitely preferred this version- It's much smoother and has noticeably less edge to it than the curled version. In many ways it reminded me of a Margarita, but with the characteristic citrus flavor coming from the orange rather than lime.

If you like your drinks citrusy and on the dry side, give this one a shot. Besides, it'll be really fun to tell anyone who asks that you're drinking a "Satan's Whiskers". You have to admit it sounds much cooler than a vodka tonic.