Once upon a time, the word ‘cocktail’ referred to the occasion more than the drink and was, often as not, attached to the word ‘party.’ In those days, it wasn’t irregular to desire a cocktail and then order or pour a whiskey, neat or on-the-rocks. Most people had no trouble calling an unadorned glass of whiskey a cocktail. Nobody tried to talk you into having ‘a real cocktail’ instead.
The modern meaning of ‘cocktail’ is an assembled-to-order, single serving combination of two or more ingredients, what used to be called a ‘mixed drink.’
Assuming we can hold two different ideas in our heads at the same time, let’s take both meanings and ask ourselves, what is the role of whiskey in cocktails?
First, let’s embrace the idea of whiskey as a cocktail. A first class whiskey is itself a combination of ingredients—grains, yeast, water, wood, heat, time, peat, sherry—and when those elements are fully realized and ideally balanced, whiskey is a perfectly satisfying drink all by itself. In short, a cocktail.
Whiskey’s other role is as an ingredient, but this can be bifurcated too. For the classic whiskey cocktails it doesn’t matter what type of whiskey you use; bourbon, rye, scotch, Canadian, Irish, etc. They all taste different, but they also all work. That’s because classic whiskey cocktails, simply made in the traditional way, feature the whiskey, augmented only slightly by the other ingredient or ingredients.
Elmer T. Lee, the legendary master distiller emeritus at Buffalo Trace Distillery, likes a highball that is one part Buffalo Trace Bourbon to about three parts Sprite, on ice.
The third way is using whiskey with modern creative cocktails. There it is an ingredient, not the ingredient, and the goal is not so much to taste the whiskey unobstructed as it is to taste it as one part of a unique whole. To be successful, a creative cocktail must be greater than the sum of its parts. For such productions, the call for each ingredient, including the whiskey, has to be specific, not just as to type (scotch, bourbon), but usually as to brand and expression.
So whiskey has three roles: (1) whiskey as cocktail, (2) whiskey as featured ingredient, (3) whiskey as non-featured ingredient.
Which begs the question, what whiskeys to use?
Some other spirits types are unambiguous on this question. Read a little bit about cognac, rum, or tequila and you will quickly learn that VS cognac, and white tequila and rum, are for mixing. Higher grades of cognac, and aged tequilas and rums, are recommended for sipping. It’s easy to draw the parallel to whiskey, blends and young whiskeys are for mixing, balanced and fully aged whiskeys are for straight sipping.
But haven’t we been told, by cooks as well as mixologists, that you always get the best results by using the best ingredients? Okay, but maybe we need a ‘within reason’ qualification, supported by a ‘best and highest use’ paradigm.
Pappy Van Winkle used to say that if you must drink your whiskey with water, pour the water into the glass first. That way, you’ll be making a poor thing better, rather than a good thing worse.
So, for the first two types, you want a fine whiskey with excellent balance. That’s obvious for straight sipping. With classic cocktails, you may want to adjust the other ingredients to the whiskey, and tone them down when a better whiskey is used. For creative cocktails, it’s not so much about the best whiskey as it is about the right whiskey.
This is where white whiskeys and young whiskeys can shine. In that third role, you usually want something with a very clear and assertive character.
Are some whiskeys more versatile than others? A good traditional straight rye, like Rittenhouse BIB, Wild Turkey Rye, or Knob Creek Rye, is good straight or in a traditional whiskey cocktail, but can get lost in an elaborate concoction. In that case, a 95% rye like Bulleit, or a very young rye like McKenzie, might work better. Even there, the Bulleit because it has some age on it can be good on its own, while the McKenzie is probably best in a cocktail.
It’s the same with bourbons. Knob Creek, Buffalo Trace, Evan Williams Single Barrel, and Old Forester are all good choices as both straight sippers and in classic cocktails. Most micro-distillery bourbons are best in creative cocktails.
With scotch, very peaty single malts can work straight and in creative cocktails, but tend to overpower the simpler classic cocktails.
Marketers need to understand how their products show best and market accordingly. It has become knee jerk in spirits marketing to always provide cocktail recipes. But if your product is a fine, fully aged, well balanced whiskey, just perfect by itself, you may do it a disservice by pushing cocktails of any kind. Instead, be more creative about telling consumers how to enjoy your product.
Showing posts with label cocktails. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cocktails. Show all posts
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Saturday, April 21, 2012
The Mint Julep, An Appreciation.
The julep is a very ancient cocktail type, going back to a time when distilled spirits were considered medicine and, by some, magic. Mint was just one expression. In Colonial Virginia, a julep made with spearmint was a popular summer refreshment. In addition to spearmint and alcohol, sugar was the other principal ingredient.
Bourbon whiskey is usually the alcohol, but Straight Rye has a venerable history in mint julep recipes too.
Kentucky was originally part of Virginia and many of her first settlers came from the Old Dominion. They brought their julep recipes with them.
You will see julep recipes everywhere over the next couple of weeks, but how you make it isn't as important as how you drink it. A mint julep is not like a cocktail in the ordinary sense. It is more like a shooter. It should be made quickly, served immediately and consumed promptly, before the ice starts to melt and water the drink.
The julep is at its peak of flavor the instant it is completed and every moment that passes thereafter diminishes its quality. There should be just enough liquid in the glass for one or two good swallows.
It's hot. You're thirsty. Drink, drink.
Taken appropriately in a suitable context the mint julep can be delightful. Its sensuality can be nearly overpowering.
Here is a recipe that is authentic, tasty and easy. First, muddle a few fresh mint leaves with simple syrup. There are specialized tools for doing this, but a spoon works fine. 'Muddle' just means crush the mint leaves into the syrup. Fill the glass with crushed ice, then with bourbon. Stir one or two times, garnish with more fresh mint leaves, serve, and drink.
To make multiple juleps at the same time, have your ice and bourbon ready. Then in a bowl make enough mint muddle for one round. Place some of the muddle into the bottom of each glass, fill them with ice and bourbon, and stir. Add mint leaf garnish and serve. The ability to make a round of juleps quickly but with style is a practiced and prized art in Kentucky.
The classic serving container is a sterling silver cup. Silver plate and pewter are also popular.
If you want a cocktail you can nurse, use cubed ice instead of crushed, but beware. Under any circumstances, a watered-down mint julep is a pretty sad thing. The whiskey starts to taste sour and the mint gets bitter.
As you can image, the mint julep is not a good session drink. For something you can stay with all day, take the julep and mohito-ize it. One trick is to infuse mint into your simple syrup. That way the drink is just whiskey, syrup, ice and club soda, plus the fresh mint garnish. To keep your mint fresh all day, keep the sprigs upright in a glass with a little water in it.
If you want the spirit of the thing without the work, a few sprigs of fresh mint in your standard bourbon on-the-rocks is a nice change of pace.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Tempest In A Tumbler: The Old Fashioned Debate.
It's not much as controversies go, but a kerfuffle erupted earlier this week about the correct way to make an Old Fashioned, a classic cocktail, perhaps the classic whiskey cocktail.
It began when cocktails enthusiast Martin Doudoroff launched an elegant web site called Old Fashioned 101. At the end, he cites in a general way Dale DeGroff, Ted 'Dr. Cocktail' Haigh, Gaz Regan, Robert Hess, and David Wondrich.
Robert Simonson lit the powder keg with a favorable piece in the New York Times, exception to which was taken by Kevin Kosar.
Kosar challenges Doudoroff's claim that his recipe is the original. He points out that DeGroff offers a different recipe, as does Regan. They, with backgrounds as working bartenders, make the version most people expect, where a sugar cube is muddled with bitters and water, and the drink is garnished with an orange slice and maraschino cherry.
In his critique, Kosar correctly observes that 'original' does not automatically mean 'best.' He calls conflating the two "historical culinary sophistry."
The Old Fashioned comes with an appealing mythology, which itself goes back at least 80 years. Supposedly, the drink was invented more than a century ago by a bartender at Louisville's Pendennis Club, which boasted as members all of the local whiskey barons. It was subsequently introduced to the world by one of them, James E. Pepper, at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel's bar in New York.
Doudoroff, however, convincingly argues that 'old-fashioned' was just a way for bar patrons to order a whiskey cocktail made the 'old-fashioned' way, with whiskey, simple syrup (i.e., sugar), bitters, water, and a twist of lemon. It would be ironic indeed if the original meaning of 'old-fashioned' had evolved into something new-fashioned.
Drinking whiskey with a little sugar is a tradition almost as old as granulated sugar itself, which became wildly popular in Europe and the Americas in the 18th century. As barrel aging became common and whiskey became naturally sweetened with wood sugar, adding cane or beet sugar became less common, but the custom could certainly be called old-fashioned.
The commonly accepted recipe Doudoroff eschews does incorporate superfluous showmanship with the ceremonial dissolving of the sugar cube, which becomes in the drink exactly what you get Doudoroff's way.
Then there's the garnish, which is very much out of fashion here in Chicago if used strictly for decorative purposes. Yet, and this is Haigh and Wondrich territory, the cocktail as it evolved from punch was always five ingredients: spirit, water, sugar, spice, and fruit. Doudoroff's lemon twist is in keeping with modern practice since it flavors the drink with lemon oil.
Although Kosar seems a little cranky about it, this is the kind of argument everyone should have with a smile on their face and a drink in their hand.
It began when cocktails enthusiast Martin Doudoroff launched an elegant web site called Old Fashioned 101. At the end, he cites in a general way Dale DeGroff, Ted 'Dr. Cocktail' Haigh, Gaz Regan, Robert Hess, and David Wondrich.
Robert Simonson lit the powder keg with a favorable piece in the New York Times, exception to which was taken by Kevin Kosar.
Kosar challenges Doudoroff's claim that his recipe is the original. He points out that DeGroff offers a different recipe, as does Regan. They, with backgrounds as working bartenders, make the version most people expect, where a sugar cube is muddled with bitters and water, and the drink is garnished with an orange slice and maraschino cherry.
In his critique, Kosar correctly observes that 'original' does not automatically mean 'best.' He calls conflating the two "historical culinary sophistry."
The Old Fashioned comes with an appealing mythology, which itself goes back at least 80 years. Supposedly, the drink was invented more than a century ago by a bartender at Louisville's Pendennis Club, which boasted as members all of the local whiskey barons. It was subsequently introduced to the world by one of them, James E. Pepper, at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel's bar in New York.
Doudoroff, however, convincingly argues that 'old-fashioned' was just a way for bar patrons to order a whiskey cocktail made the 'old-fashioned' way, with whiskey, simple syrup (i.e., sugar), bitters, water, and a twist of lemon. It would be ironic indeed if the original meaning of 'old-fashioned' had evolved into something new-fashioned.
Drinking whiskey with a little sugar is a tradition almost as old as granulated sugar itself, which became wildly popular in Europe and the Americas in the 18th century. As barrel aging became common and whiskey became naturally sweetened with wood sugar, adding cane or beet sugar became less common, but the custom could certainly be called old-fashioned.
The commonly accepted recipe Doudoroff eschews does incorporate superfluous showmanship with the ceremonial dissolving of the sugar cube, which becomes in the drink exactly what you get Doudoroff's way.
Then there's the garnish, which is very much out of fashion here in Chicago if used strictly for decorative purposes. Yet, and this is Haigh and Wondrich territory, the cocktail as it evolved from punch was always five ingredients: spirit, water, sugar, spice, and fruit. Doudoroff's lemon twist is in keeping with modern practice since it flavors the drink with lemon oil.
Although Kosar seems a little cranky about it, this is the kind of argument everyone should have with a smile on their face and a drink in their hand.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Perfect For New Year's Eve: The Seelbach.
The Seelbach in Louisville is a wonderful, old hotel in the grand style of the late 19th and early 20th century, made immortal as the site of Daisy's wedding in The Great Gatsby. No doubt it is perfect for New Year's Eve, although you pretty much need to be in Louisville for that to be an option.
No, I'm talking about the Seelbach Cocktail. Why is it perfect for New Year's Eve? Because it is the only cocktail that comes to mind that combines bourbon with champagne. What's more, as unlikely as it sounds, it is delicious.
The cocktail was created by a Seelbach bartender in 1917. Its recipe was lost during Prohibition and only reappeared in 1995. It's other ingredients are unusual too, not one but two historic bitters.
Although the recipe doesn't specify a bourbon, I have had it at the Old Seelbach Bar made with Blanton's bourbon, which is quite nice. I suggest any of the better bourbons but don't use one that is more than 12-years-old, as too much wood throws it off.
Since it is served in a champagne flute, no one needs to know that you are celebrating with a far superior drink to champagne alone.
Seelbach Cocktail
INGREDIENTS:
3/4 ounce bourbon
1/2 ounce Cointreau
7 dashes Angostura bitters
7 dashes Peychaud's bitters
4 ounces chilled brut Champagne
1 orange twist, for garnish
INSTRUCTIONS:
Pour all of the ingredients, in the order given, into a Champagne flute. Add the garnish.
No, I'm talking about the Seelbach Cocktail. Why is it perfect for New Year's Eve? Because it is the only cocktail that comes to mind that combines bourbon with champagne. What's more, as unlikely as it sounds, it is delicious.
The cocktail was created by a Seelbach bartender in 1917. Its recipe was lost during Prohibition and only reappeared in 1995. It's other ingredients are unusual too, not one but two historic bitters.
Although the recipe doesn't specify a bourbon, I have had it at the Old Seelbach Bar made with Blanton's bourbon, which is quite nice. I suggest any of the better bourbons but don't use one that is more than 12-years-old, as too much wood throws it off.
Since it is served in a champagne flute, no one needs to know that you are celebrating with a far superior drink to champagne alone.
Seelbach Cocktail
INGREDIENTS:
3/4 ounce bourbon
1/2 ounce Cointreau
7 dashes Angostura bitters
7 dashes Peychaud's bitters
4 ounces chilled brut Champagne
1 orange twist, for garnish
INSTRUCTIONS:
Pour all of the ingredients, in the order given, into a Champagne flute. Add the garnish.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Bourbon For Christmas.
What bourbon is good for Christmas? Well, heck, they all are, but here are a couple of thoughts.
You can make egg nog with bourbon. Evan Williams has a ready-to-drink version. So, no doubt, do some other brands. You can substitute bourbon for the more traditional brandy or rum, or mix them 50/50. Martha Stewart's recipe calls for all three.
When Maker's 46 came out, many of the reviews described it as "rich in Christmas spices," so why not make that your official Christmas bourbon?
Goose Island Brewery here in Chicago changes its Christmas Ale every year, but at least once they made a version they conditioned in bourbon barrels.
Make bourbon balls. They aren't specifically a holiday confection, but they're really good. Recipes abound on the web.
Here's a simple Christmas cocktail using bourbon. It was developed by Paul Abercrombie.
Ingredients
Handful of organic cranberries, picked over and rinsed
4 ounces organic cranberry juice
2 ounces bourbon
Directions
In a pint glass, muddle the cranberries until crushed (make sure not to pulverize the cranberries so much that you release the seeds' bitter taste).
Add a large handful of cracked ice, the cranberry juice, and bourbon. Stir.
You can make egg nog with bourbon. Evan Williams has a ready-to-drink version. So, no doubt, do some other brands. You can substitute bourbon for the more traditional brandy or rum, or mix them 50/50. Martha Stewart's recipe calls for all three.
When Maker's 46 came out, many of the reviews described it as "rich in Christmas spices," so why not make that your official Christmas bourbon?
Goose Island Brewery here in Chicago changes its Christmas Ale every year, but at least once they made a version they conditioned in bourbon barrels.
Make bourbon balls. They aren't specifically a holiday confection, but they're really good. Recipes abound on the web.
Here's a simple Christmas cocktail using bourbon. It was developed by Paul Abercrombie.
Ingredients
Handful of organic cranberries, picked over and rinsed
4 ounces organic cranberry juice
2 ounces bourbon
Directions
In a pint glass, muddle the cranberries until crushed (make sure not to pulverize the cranberries so much that you release the seeds' bitter taste).
Add a large handful of cracked ice, the cranberry juice, and bourbon. Stir.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Japan Loves Its Highballs.
I’m mystified by the current highball craze in Japan. Rather, since I neither speak nor read Japanese, I should say I am mystified by what I’ve read in English about the current highball craze in Japan.
Back in June, Camper English introduced America to Mizuwari, the Japanese highball ritual. First you put ice in a glass and stir to glaze the glass. Then discard any water and add about 1 ½ ounces of whiskey. Stir that 13 ½ times clockwise, fill with soda water and stir another 3 ½ times, also clockwise.
They also sell canned highballs in Japan, so obviously not everyone takes them so seriously.
But this idea that the highball is whiskey and soda water over ice, period, is still a little too particular for me, here in the highball’s country of origin.
In American drinking culture, ‘highball’ is (or was, as this is somewhat archaic usage) just another synonym for ‘drinky-poo.’
It developed at a time when most people drank whiskey of some sort and most drank it diluted in some way, usually just with water. In the old days, most gentle folk liked to take their time getting drunk. The tall glass that is typically used for this simple mixture is called a highball so the drink, such as it is, came to be called a highball too. You could say "whiskey and water," but "a highball, please" would usually get you the same thing.
It’s similar to the Southern habit of referring to any soft drink as ‘Coke.’ If ‘highball’ means anything more than just ‘a drink,’ it means a drink in which whiskey is cut with water, a definition that ultimately was broadened to include ice, sparking water, club soda, ginger ale, lemon-lime soda, and a twist of lemon peel as garnish.
The highball is the un-fussiest of drinks, a distilled spirits version of beer. That’s why it seems wrong to ritualize it. But I’m broad minded about drinking. Do what pleases you.
English also observes that the typical Japanese highball is made with blended whiskey, either Japanese or scotch. The highball as I have described may be made with any whiskey you like, from anyplace. The one I'm drinking right now is Very Old Barton Bourbon, BIB, with lemon-lime soda, and ice, stirred about five times, but really fast, and not so much clockwise as back and forth. I apologize in advance.
Back in June, Camper English introduced America to Mizuwari, the Japanese highball ritual. First you put ice in a glass and stir to glaze the glass. Then discard any water and add about 1 ½ ounces of whiskey. Stir that 13 ½ times clockwise, fill with soda water and stir another 3 ½ times, also clockwise.
They also sell canned highballs in Japan, so obviously not everyone takes them so seriously.
But this idea that the highball is whiskey and soda water over ice, period, is still a little too particular for me, here in the highball’s country of origin.
In American drinking culture, ‘highball’ is (or was, as this is somewhat archaic usage) just another synonym for ‘drinky-poo.’
It developed at a time when most people drank whiskey of some sort and most drank it diluted in some way, usually just with water. In the old days, most gentle folk liked to take their time getting drunk. The tall glass that is typically used for this simple mixture is called a highball so the drink, such as it is, came to be called a highball too. You could say "whiskey and water," but "a highball, please" would usually get you the same thing.
It’s similar to the Southern habit of referring to any soft drink as ‘Coke.’ If ‘highball’ means anything more than just ‘a drink,’ it means a drink in which whiskey is cut with water, a definition that ultimately was broadened to include ice, sparking water, club soda, ginger ale, lemon-lime soda, and a twist of lemon peel as garnish.
The highball is the un-fussiest of drinks, a distilled spirits version of beer. That’s why it seems wrong to ritualize it. But I’m broad minded about drinking. Do what pleases you.
English also observes that the typical Japanese highball is made with blended whiskey, either Japanese or scotch. The highball as I have described may be made with any whiskey you like, from anyplace. The one I'm drinking right now is Very Old Barton Bourbon, BIB, with lemon-lime soda, and ice, stirred about five times, but really fast, and not so much clockwise as back and forth. I apologize in advance.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Triple-S Makes Micheladas Fast And Easy.
Back in May, I told you about my late-in-life discovery of La Michelada, a beer-based cocktail of which I have become a fan.
I still see my girl, Monique, before every Chicago Fire home game. She’s the only vendor at Toyota Park who makes them. In case you're a Fire fan and would like to try one, she’s behind section 109, just south of the foot long sausage stand.
The term “Michelada” can cover many different preparations. The kind Monique makes is like a beer Bloody Mary.
Shortly after I posted my Michelada piece, I heard from Juan and Sasha Sotelo, who live in Brownsville, Texas, where they make a product called Triple-S Michelada Mix. Monique must be from Brownsville too, because Triple-S is right on the money as far as what I expect from my Michelada.
The Sotelos tell me they’re approaching their one year anniversary and their product is flying off the shelves. They just scored a big contract with H.E.B., a local mega-mart. Good for them, they seem like a nice young couple.
A 32-ounce bottle of Triple-S sells for $7.99 in grocery stores, $8.99 in liquor stores. That’s enough for eight Micheladas, at four ounces of mix to twelve ounces of beer, the ratio they recommend.
They also recommend ice. It gets really, really hot in Brownsville.
Triple-S makes a tasty Michelada, it eliminates the need to buy a bunch of ingredients you might otherwise not use, and it’s quick and easy.
The Sotelos say they’d like to have distribution in Chicago. Maybe I should introduce them to Monique?
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Liquor Industry Should Try Harder.
I get one almost every day, a press release for another new distilled spirits product. It doesn't matter if it's whiskey, tequila, rum or vodka. After a few words about why this is the most wonderful, delicious and prestigious new product ever, here come the recipes; the jazzy new cocktails, created perhaps by some celebrity mixologist.
Everybody today is pushing a new cocktail, or five. Each is promoted for about two seconds, then discarded for the next set. Often the drinks require exotic ingredients you don't have and bizarre processes you don't understand. (Fat washing, anyone?) Maybe they have clever names. Who can tell? Who can even take them all in? They're yesterday's news before you even finish reading them.
This is not a rant against cocktails. Cocktail culture is obviously still going strong. Consumers are still drinking cocktails and many still enjoy going up to their favorite bartender and saying, "what's new?"
But the difference between "what's new" and "what's out there that I haven't heard about" has never been greater. There are now thousands of drinks you haven't heard about and, therefore, nothing is new.
The problem is that as a form of promotion it has become rote. The drinks industry has become over-dependent on new cocktails. I expect to start seeing them in the quarterly financials.
The volume of new recipes is so great that no matter how breathless the people hyping them are, it's almost impossible for any of the drinks to catch on and become a phenomenon. Everything is simply washed away by the next wave before any new drink can plant a root and the people who are breathless about cocktail #286,547 today will never mention it again. Tomorrow they will be be just as breathless about cocktail #745,682.
You don't have to be around for very long to discern the pattern.
As a form of promotion, cocktails have become perfunctory, and in marketing perfunctory means dead. You might as well just save your money and do nothing if this is the best you can do.
Legal restrictions make it unusually hard for alcohol beverages to promote so it's probably no surprise that so many marketers seem to have given up. Instead of giving up, try harder, be more creative, take some chances. Recognize that what once was daring no longer is. If you must do a cocktail, figure out a new way to deliver it. Instead of doing five, do one and figure a way to make it stick.
New drinks, like new products, need more than their existence to justify their existence. That's what good promotion is all about.
Everybody today is pushing a new cocktail, or five. Each is promoted for about two seconds, then discarded for the next set. Often the drinks require exotic ingredients you don't have and bizarre processes you don't understand. (Fat washing, anyone?) Maybe they have clever names. Who can tell? Who can even take them all in? They're yesterday's news before you even finish reading them.
This is not a rant against cocktails. Cocktail culture is obviously still going strong. Consumers are still drinking cocktails and many still enjoy going up to their favorite bartender and saying, "what's new?"
But the difference between "what's new" and "what's out there that I haven't heard about" has never been greater. There are now thousands of drinks you haven't heard about and, therefore, nothing is new.
The problem is that as a form of promotion it has become rote. The drinks industry has become over-dependent on new cocktails. I expect to start seeing them in the quarterly financials.
The volume of new recipes is so great that no matter how breathless the people hyping them are, it's almost impossible for any of the drinks to catch on and become a phenomenon. Everything is simply washed away by the next wave before any new drink can plant a root and the people who are breathless about cocktail #286,547 today will never mention it again. Tomorrow they will be be just as breathless about cocktail #745,682.
You don't have to be around for very long to discern the pattern.
As a form of promotion, cocktails have become perfunctory, and in marketing perfunctory means dead. You might as well just save your money and do nothing if this is the best you can do.
Legal restrictions make it unusually hard for alcohol beverages to promote so it's probably no surprise that so many marketers seem to have given up. Instead of giving up, try harder, be more creative, take some chances. Recognize that what once was daring no longer is. If you must do a cocktail, figure out a new way to deliver it. Instead of doing five, do one and figure a way to make it stick.
New drinks, like new products, need more than their existence to justify their existence. That's what good promotion is all about.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Cocktail Name Creep And Other Sins.
On Monday I was one of the judges at a fun event at The Violet Hour here in Chicago. It was a competition among six local bartenders to make a unique manhattan recipe using Woodford Reserve bourbon and any other ingredients of their choice. The competition is sponsored by Woodford Reserve, Esquire Magazine, and Akira (a fashion store). Monday's Chicago winner will go on to a finals competition in New York.
The event was fun and all of the people there were very nice. I watched each bartender prepare his or her drink, tasted each, and scored them according to the criteria given. They all tasted pretty good and were well and professionally made, but I have a philosophical objection to all of them.
I accept that drink creation is a very free and easy art form but to me, the baseline for a manhattan is that the whiskey should dominate. Although every drink on Monday night included Woodford Reserve bourbon, you could barely taste it in any of them. By 'dominate' I mean most of the drink, by volume, should be whiskey. That was not the case in any of Monday's recipes.
On TV's Iron Chef, one of the judging criteria is how well the dish expresses the theme ingredient. That was not one of the criteria on Monday. Good thing because had it been, everyone would have scored zero.
It has always been said that Americans like drinks that have a simple, sweet and (usually) fruity taste. In that regard the contestants Monday were doing what they're supposed to do, pleasing their customers. That's all well and good but for me, when I order a manhattan I want to taste the whiskey and if I can't, I'll be disappointed.
One of my fellow judges Monday was Paul McGee, bartender at The Whistler (2421 N Milwaukee Ave.), who pointed out that the manhattan, like the martini and other drinks whose ingredients all contain alcohol, is supposed to be stirred, not shaken. All of Monday's contestants shook. We asked one of them and, again, customer preference ("they like the show") was the explanation. Traditionally, the manhattan may be served straight up or on the rocks. No one Monday risked an on-the-rocks presentation either.
I suppose when 'creativity' is one of the criteria it is natural to veer away from tradition, but is nothing sacred?
The event was fun and all of the people there were very nice. I watched each bartender prepare his or her drink, tasted each, and scored them according to the criteria given. They all tasted pretty good and were well and professionally made, but I have a philosophical objection to all of them.
I accept that drink creation is a very free and easy art form but to me, the baseline for a manhattan is that the whiskey should dominate. Although every drink on Monday night included Woodford Reserve bourbon, you could barely taste it in any of them. By 'dominate' I mean most of the drink, by volume, should be whiskey. That was not the case in any of Monday's recipes.
On TV's Iron Chef, one of the judging criteria is how well the dish expresses the theme ingredient. That was not one of the criteria on Monday. Good thing because had it been, everyone would have scored zero.
It has always been said that Americans like drinks that have a simple, sweet and (usually) fruity taste. In that regard the contestants Monday were doing what they're supposed to do, pleasing their customers. That's all well and good but for me, when I order a manhattan I want to taste the whiskey and if I can't, I'll be disappointed.
One of my fellow judges Monday was Paul McGee, bartender at The Whistler (2421 N Milwaukee Ave.), who pointed out that the manhattan, like the martini and other drinks whose ingredients all contain alcohol, is supposed to be stirred, not shaken. All of Monday's contestants shook. We asked one of them and, again, customer preference ("they like the show") was the explanation. Traditionally, the manhattan may be served straight up or on the rocks. No one Monday risked an on-the-rocks presentation either.
I suppose when 'creativity' is one of the criteria it is natural to veer away from tradition, but is nothing sacred?
Monday, April 5, 2010
What Is A Martini?
Whenever questions about 'what is bourbon?' arise, it's helpful that bourbon whiskey is defined by Federal law. There might be disagreements about application and interpretation, but at least there's a reference point.
The martini gets no such help. Consequently, people feel free to call anything served in the iconic martini glass a martini, regardless of the ingredients.
I would like to propose the following rules.
A martini is a drink containing gin or vodka, and dry vermouth. I think I'm being very liberal in allowing vodka, but it stops there.
I know people today want to be creative with their cocktails and like to invent variations on their favorite cocktail recipes. Although the martini has only two ingredients, it permits a wide range of variation. The permissible variations are:
You are welcome to make and enjoy any drink you like, you may even serve it in a martini glass, you may even (and I'm being hugely generous on this one) call it a something-tini, just not a martini.
Thank you for your cooperation.
The martini gets no such help. Consequently, people feel free to call anything served in the iconic martini glass a martini, regardless of the ingredients.
I would like to propose the following rules.
A martini is a drink containing gin or vodka, and dry vermouth. I think I'm being very liberal in allowing vodka, but it stops there.
I know people today want to be creative with their cocktails and like to invent variations on their favorite cocktail recipes. Although the martini has only two ingredients, it permits a wide range of variation. The permissible variations are:
- You may use any gin or any vodka, including flavored vodka.
- You may use both gin and vodka.
- You may use any dry vermouth.
- You may use any ratio of gin/vodka to vermouth.
- You may garnish with olives or onions, stuffed or not, or no garnish.
- You may add a small amount of olive brine.
You are welcome to make and enjoy any drink you like, you may even serve it in a martini glass, you may even (and I'm being hugely generous on this one) call it a something-tini, just not a martini.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Sazerac Brings Back Original 1934 Herbsaint Recipe.
Herbsaint has long been a critical ingredient in the world famous Sazerac Cocktail. Both have enjoyed a revival of late as part of the passion for classic cocktails.
So it is with perfect timing that the Sazerac Company of New Orleans has dug deep into its archives to launch a new product called Herbsaint Original. The new product is made according to the same recipe first used by J. Marion Legendre for Herbsaint in 1934.
Shortly after Prohibition ended in late 1933, Legendre - a New Orleans apothecary-turned-entrepreneur - introduced a product he called Legendre Absinthe. Legendre had learned about pastis and absinthe while stationed in France during WWI. Upon his return to New Orleans after the war and with the onset of Prohibition, he secretly made absinthe in his uptown home. His launch of Legendre Absinthe was a dream come true.
Sadly for Legendre, just months after launching his product and in spite of the fact that it did not contain wormwood, the U.S. Government forced him to remove the word 'absinthe' from his brand name amid concerns that absinthe consumption was harmful. Legendre quickly re-named his product Herbsaint and launched an aggressive marketing campaign that called on people to “Drink Herbsaint Wherever Absinthe Is Called For.”
In 1949, after spending 15 years promoting Herbsaint around the United States, Legendre sold it to the Sazerac Company. Legendre died in New Orleans in 1986 at the age of 90.
The recipe for Herbsaint changed a bit over the years and while Herbsaint has been a staple on sophisticated bars for decades, Sazerac hopes the release of the original recipe will rekindle consumer interest in the product as it tasted 75 years ago.
“It has been a lot of fun to work on bringing back the original Herbsaint formula. We’re grateful to have discovered the recipe in our archives and to have had such a wonderful reaction from consumers and bartenders about bringing it back to life. It really is The Spirit of New Orleans,” said Kevin Richards, Sazerac’s Herbsaint brand manager in New Orleans.
Herbsaint Original is 100° proof and is available in 750ml bottles. Sazerac will continue to sell Herbsaint 90° proof, also in 750ml bottles.
So it is with perfect timing that the Sazerac Company of New Orleans has dug deep into its archives to launch a new product called Herbsaint Original. The new product is made according to the same recipe first used by J. Marion Legendre for Herbsaint in 1934.
Shortly after Prohibition ended in late 1933, Legendre - a New Orleans apothecary-turned-entrepreneur - introduced a product he called Legendre Absinthe. Legendre had learned about pastis and absinthe while stationed in France during WWI. Upon his return to New Orleans after the war and with the onset of Prohibition, he secretly made absinthe in his uptown home. His launch of Legendre Absinthe was a dream come true.
Sadly for Legendre, just months after launching his product and in spite of the fact that it did not contain wormwood, the U.S. Government forced him to remove the word 'absinthe' from his brand name amid concerns that absinthe consumption was harmful. Legendre quickly re-named his product Herbsaint and launched an aggressive marketing campaign that called on people to “Drink Herbsaint Wherever Absinthe Is Called For.”
In 1949, after spending 15 years promoting Herbsaint around the United States, Legendre sold it to the Sazerac Company. Legendre died in New Orleans in 1986 at the age of 90.
The recipe for Herbsaint changed a bit over the years and while Herbsaint has been a staple on sophisticated bars for decades, Sazerac hopes the release of the original recipe will rekindle consumer interest in the product as it tasted 75 years ago.
“It has been a lot of fun to work on bringing back the original Herbsaint formula. We’re grateful to have discovered the recipe in our archives and to have had such a wonderful reaction from consumers and bartenders about bringing it back to life. It really is The Spirit of New Orleans,” said Kevin Richards, Sazerac’s Herbsaint brand manager in New Orleans.
Herbsaint Original is 100° proof and is available in 750ml bottles. Sazerac will continue to sell Herbsaint 90° proof, also in 750ml bottles.
Friday, January 9, 2009
A Meditation on the Boilermaker.
Some friends were discussing the custom of ordering whiskey or some other spirit with a "beer back," and that got us talking about that and the related bar calls, like "shot and a beer" and "boilermaker." (Not to be confused with the Purdue University campus icon.)
Shot and a beer is traditionally the working man's drink, in part due to economics. It would have been considered a trade-up from just drinking beer. It also ties in with the idea of session drinking, which is something people talk about in Great Britain more than here. Session just means you are going into an evening of drinking with a modicum of a plan, based on how much you can afford to spend, what you like, and perhaps also a calculation of how drunk you dare get and when you want that state to be achieved. The shots can be any spirit, and often among some of my younger friends it is tequila, vodka, rum or Jagermeister rather than whiskey.
"Shot and a beer" as a bar call also means you're asking for well whiskey and the house's cheapest draft beer. The "beer back" call usually follows a specific spirit call, but the orderer is still indifferent about the beer. If you are calling the beer too, you usually don't use the "beer back" terminology, you just place the two orders.
I haven't heard the boilermaker ordered as such very often. Although Wikipedia disagrees, I would say the term "boilermaker" means the spirit will be whiskey. Here again, we're talking well whiskey and draft beer. It's also not uncommon for the beer to be a pony, i.e., a smaller glass, often called, quite literally, small beer.
Again, working man's drink in working men's bars. Part of the idea was that the boilermaker would be the house special, a fixed price, and usually the cheapest way to drink at that establishment, save for quaffing the house draft all night. I've never known it to be served with the shot in the beer glass and never knew many people who liked to drink it that way. The shot in the beer I've also heard called a depth charge and now, commonly, a ______-bomb, e.g., Jager Bomb.
Again, in the tradition of working men's bars, if you were drinking straight whiskey, period, you were probably looking to get plastered as quickly as possible and wanted to be left alone. The shot-and-a-beer call was an indicator of sociability.
Personally, I might get a beer back when I feel like a whiskey but I'm also thirsty, though I probably get water back most of the time. Sometimes, though, there's nothing quite so refreshing as chasing a good whiskey with a cold lager.
In a working men's bar, whiskey rocks, whiskey and water, whiskey and soda, etc., would have been considered effete or pretentious, that being the way whiskey was taken among the middle and upper classes, the middle class being nothing but a bunch of aspiring snobs anyway.
A little bit higher class call for the exact same thing is to order a whiskey with a beer chaser. You just don't hear that word--"chaser"--much these days, though it was common in my youth. I can recall bars where the beer chaser was assumed, and provided at no additional cost, so you had to speak up if you did not want it.
What whiskey? It would depend on where you were drinking. Certainly in the South it would be bourbon. Pre-prohibition it would have been rye in a lot of places. In the Northeast it might be blended whiskey or even scotch or Irish. In the midwest it might be Canadian.
It's never been wrong to ask the bartender to show you what's in the well, within reason of course.
How the shot/beer combo picked up the name "boilermaker" is unclear. My theory is that boilermakers, as skilled craftsmen, would have been the highest paid workers patronizing a particular bar, and may have been the only ones who could regularly afford to alternate whiskey with beer throughout the evening. If you ordered a whiskey and a beer you were "drinking like a boilermaker," and eventually that became the bar call.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Explore the Science of Cocktails Next Wednesay, 8/20, at the Mid America Club.
Ever wonder how to keep carbonation in champagne? Why do bartenders always pour the alcohol in first and then the mixer? Does garnish influence the taste of a cocktail?
Wonder no longer. “Mistology: The Science Behind the Cocktail,” is coming to Chicago on Wednesday, August 20, 7:00 p.m., at The Mid America Club. It is open to anyone who is at least 21-years-old and the cost is $15.00. It is sponsored by Canadian Mist whisky. All proceeds benefit Heartland Alliance, an organization that assists the poor and vulnerable with housing, health care, human services, and human rights protection.
The host for the evening is Tim Laird, who calls himself Chief Entertaining Officer (CEO). He’ll explain not just the how of cocktail preparation but also the why. You can try your hand at mixing, or just taste the efforts of the professionals. Appetizers are included too. Space is limited. To reserve your spot email phyllis_kelly@b-f.com, or call 1-800-268-7266.
The Mid-America Club is on the 80th floor of the Aon Center. That’s the building at the corner of Michigan and Randolph with the diamond-shaped roof line.
Wonder no longer. “Mistology: The Science Behind the Cocktail,” is coming to Chicago on Wednesday, August 20, 7:00 p.m., at The Mid America Club. It is open to anyone who is at least 21-years-old and the cost is $15.00. It is sponsored by Canadian Mist whisky. All proceeds benefit Heartland Alliance, an organization that assists the poor and vulnerable with housing, health care, human services, and human rights protection.
The host for the evening is Tim Laird, who calls himself Chief Entertaining Officer (CEO). He’ll explain not just the how of cocktail preparation but also the why. You can try your hand at mixing, or just taste the efforts of the professionals. Appetizers are included too. Space is limited. To reserve your spot email phyllis_kelly@b-f.com, or call 1-800-268-7266.
The Mid-America Club is on the 80th floor of the Aon Center. That’s the building at the corner of Michigan and Randolph with the diamond-shaped roof line.
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