Can you guess what it's made of?
Look at that sly smile. I think she's mocking you.
Artist assistants admiring their work.
This is what happens when you combine 3,604 cups of coffee with varying amounts of milk and Australians with a lot of time on their hands.
I recently picked up Ted Haigh’s (Dr. Cocktail) book Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails: From the Alamagoozlum to the Zombie 100 Rediscovered Recipes and the Stories Behind Them
Many of you may have sampled an Aviation – gin, lemon, maraschino liqueur. The focus of this post, the Blue Moon, is similar, sub crème de violette for the maraschino liqueur. Haigh didn’t include this cocktail in his first edition of this book because crème de violette was not available to the American public at that time. Thanks, Haus Alpens!
2 ounces gin (I used Seneca Drums), 1/2 ounce creme de violette, 1/2 ounce lemon juice; shake and strain.
You can also use Crème Yvette, which is compounded from violet petals and other secret ingredients and named after an early 20th century French actress. Iterations of this cocktail date back to 1917.
At the outset, it’s light and floral, but it finishes with a bite. Haigh suggests adding an egg white and a lemon twist. I added 1/2 ounce ruby red grapefruit juice and 1/4 ounce simple syrup. I hope someone names a liqueur after me someday.
Filed under Cocktails
I managed to lose my voice over the last few days. My colleagues assumed I was too rowdy over New Year’s. I should stop correcting them.
Like any good husband with a sick wife, Noah brought home a lemon, assuming I would make a hot toddy.
I put water on to boil, sliced 4 pieces of lemon peel and stuck whole cloves in them, dubbing them "clove soldiers".
When the water was ready, I steeped the lemon peel, one cinnamon stick, the juice of one lemon and 3 teaspoons of honey (with the idea of making 2 drinks).
After a few minutes, I put 1 1/2 ounces of McKenzie Rye and 1/2 ounce of Maplejack in each mug and strained the spiced, lemon-honey water over the top.
There’s plenty of hot toddy recipes out there, with the booze ranging from brandy to scotch to Irish whisky, but all modesty aside, this one currently tops my list.
I attended a 7 course tasting menu for a friend’s birthday this past weekend. This was not your average tasting menu, however. It was a tour of the seven continents and it was at somebody’s house. I have talented friends.
Yes, we had kangaroo and no, I won’t divulge (yet) what was served for the Antarctica course until a later post. What I want to do here is highlight one of my favorite courses of the evening, mostly because of its killer wine pairing.
For the 6th or what would traditionally be the cheese course, we traveled to Europe and were served a twice-baked three cheese soufflé with cream alongside a house made quince ravioli in beurre noisette. It was paired with a 1969 d’Oliveiras Sercial Madeira. A guest at the party asked if we needed to be concerned about oxidation, given the age of the wine, so while our host (who knew the answer) puttered in the kitchen for the next course, I broke it down for everybody.
The beauty of Madeira is that it has been purposely oxidized, so there’s little you can do to harm it once it’s in your possession. Like many other beverages, it came about as a happy accident. Madeira is the name of a Portugese island, 400 miles off the coast of Africa. The island was important stop for folks traveling to the New World and to the Far East – one last chance to pick up provisions.
Good sailors wouldn’t travel without wine, but to protect it for the long journey, they would fortify it by adding neutral spirit or brandy. The extra alcohol made the wine more stable, helping to prevent re-fermentation or microbiological spoilage. The big casks of wine would sit in the belly of the ship and the constant rocking motion of the boat accelerated the aging process. The heat of the tropics slowly cooked the wine into an amber, nutty, caramelized beverage. When the sailors consumed the wine at their destination, it tasted a heck of a lot better than when they had started.
The term “maderized” has come to explain the change in Madeira’s flavor profile as it undergoes a controlled, hot oxidation. Sending ships back and forth across the Atlantic is not terribly efficient, so now there are 3 ways to achieve a similar end result.
1. The quickest and cheapest way is to put the wine in concrete vats and circulate hot water through it using a submerged coil. This heats the wine directly and it maderizes in about 3 months. The wine is sweetened and fortified after it has been heated.
2. Another method is to place the wine casks in a heated warehouse. The intense heat of the room maderizes the wine in 6-12 months. The flavors achieved this way are more integrated, as the wine is fortified prior to the start of the aging process.
3. The most expensive and time consuming method is to put the casks in a non-temperature controlled warehouse and just let them sit. This process can take a number of years, but yields wines of extraordinary quality.
Madeira is an incredibly versatile wine to pair with cheeses
For those of you who are interested, there are 4 traditional “noble” grapes of Madeira.
1. Sercial. This is used to produce the driest Madeiras (0.5 to 1.5% residual sugar). The sweetness is offset by its searing acidity. Often tastes of almonds.
2. Verdelho. Produces moderately sweet Madeiras (1.5 to 2.5% rs). These often have a pronounced smokiness. You may recognize the grape name, as it’s also used to make white wine in Portugal and Spain (under the name Verdejo).
3. Bual. This has a raisiny sweetness and a residual sugar level of 2.5 to 3.5%.
4. Malmsey. This word is the English corruption of the word Malvasia, a grape used to make tasty white wine in Italy. This is the sweetest style of Madeira (3.5 to 6.5% rs), with a nutty grapiness, but still with well-balanced acidity.
Look for more posts on this around-the-world-feast soon.
Happy 2010!
Join us to toast again with suds on January 21 from 6:30-9:30 pm while we explore beer from the British Isles as well as some domestic styles inspired by them. Hobgoblin, Skull Splitter and stout – oh, my!
Click here for more info and to sign up.
Looking for something to do with that extra pecan oil and xanthan gum you have kicking around the house? Dave Arnold can help.
I’ve talked about the red hot poker here and here, but haven’t posted a video until now. Click below to see how you can “poke” your beverages at home. Please note the use of orange bitters.
I bet Santa likes clarified lime juice.
Here’s Dave Arnold doing his thing. This is part of a really cool series called 12 Second Cocktails, courtesy of HungryNation.
How can you resist "the finest orange bitters for man or beast"?
I forgot to mention in yesterday’s post that for take 2 of the Jalapeño Old Fashioned, I subbed Regan’s orange bitters.
45% abv, these bitters were designed by cocktail guru Gary Regan and are produced through the Sazerac/Buffalo Trace company. The bitter orange comes through first and leads to a spicy mid-palate (think cinnamon and clove). These bitters are complex with a lingering, herbaceous finish. It only takes a few drops to make your cocktails more exciting. I love these in Manhattans.
You can purchase them through Amazon or the Buffalo Trace online gift shop. If you’re in NYC, you can pick them up at Union Square Wines. If you’re a last minute shopper like me, you can use them as an inexpensive, yet thoughtful stocking stuffer.
The Old Fashioned might have been the first drink to be called a cocktail. I just purchased David Wondrich’s book Imbibe!…
*1 1/2 to 2 oz. whisky (some prefer bourbon or rye over scotch and in the Midwest, they dig it with brandy)
*1 sugar cube with enough water to dissolve it (you can skip this step with simple syrup)
*2-3 dashes of bitters (most call for Angostura)
*an old-fashioned glass (also known as a lowball or rocks glass; essentially a short tumbler – gazing into the future, I can picture myself sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, demanding that someone fill up “grandma’s tumbler”)
*oranges, lemon twists and cherries are common garnishes and some modern recipes call for the drink to be topped off with club soda (why dilute it?)
For the procedure, dissolve the sugar (or add simple syrup) in an old-fashioned glass, add bitters, add ice, add whisky and garnish.
I was recently experimenting with a twist on this drink. When I have people taste Glen Thunder, I often hear “cornbread”. I happen to like jalapeños in my cornbread and that’s what got this whole thing rolling. You see jalapeños in tequila drinks all the time – why not corn whiskey? I mentioned the idea to Seider at the Summit Bar and he made me an Old Fashioned with McKenzie Rye and Glen Thunder, spiked with jalapeños.
I didn’t see exactly what he did, nor did I ask him proportions, but I attempted to recreate it a few days later.
In a pint glass, I muddled 2 slices of jalapeños in simple syrup, added ice, 3 dashes Angostura bitters, 1 oz. McKenzie Rye, 1 oz. Glen Thunder, dash of salt and I stirred it and strained it into a rocks glass.
I was happy with the result, though I was jealous of Seider’s perfectly square and gynormous ice cube. I gave it another try, thinking a little citrus might be nice.
Same as above, with the addition of 1/4 oz. oj. Would be great to make this a completely clear drink. Nils? Dave?
Filed under Cocktails
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A Thirsty Spirit 