MxMo LXIX: Fortified Wines — Got Sherry?

•January 20, 2013 • 5 Comments

mxmologo

January’s Mixology Monday is focused upon a trend that is steadily gaining steam in bars across the country: the use of port, sherry, and Madeira wines in cocktails. Sure, you can reach for the old standbys like vermouth and quinquina if you want to add some sweetness and complexity, but bitter aftertastes and quinine aren’t for everyone. That’s why this month’s host, Jordan Devereaux at Chemistry of the Cocktail, has asked us bloggers to mix with those wines that were tailor-made for shipboard and wintertime storage. [UPDATE: check out the round-up post!]

While I love a good glass of port, sherry and Madeira are taking some getting used to. Port is wonderfully fruity, full-bodied and sweet, but I still have a hard time thinking about something other than a mouthful of raisins when sipping sherry. Plus, sherry seems like something that grandmothers, Napoleonic-era naval officers, and Sherlock Holmes’s wealthier clients would sip in drawing rooms.

Nonetheless, over the past few months I’ve managed to dig up some sherry-inclusive cocktails that I find very enjoyable. While they have proven instrumental to acclimating myself to the wine, these drinks also employ some interesting flavor combos that I never would have thought to try. Lesson 1: Tequila + Sherry = Deliciousness!

Sherry Cocktails (3 of 4)

La Perla #2

  • 1-1/2 ounces Siete Leguas Reposado Tequila
  • 1-1/2 ounces Lustau Amontillado Sherry
  • 3/4 ounce Rothman & Winter Orchard Apricot

Stir with ice and strain into a coupe. Garnish with an orange twist.

Adapted from the La Perla, created by Jacques Bezuidenhout, San Francisco, 2005. Found in The PDT Cocktail Book.

I’ve yet to try the La Perla in its original form (Partida Reposado, Lustau Manzanilla, Mathilde Pear, lemon twist), but my gerry-rigged modification worked out rather well. What I love about apricot liqueur is that it acts as a kind of binder, weaving the vegetal agave and sweet, raisin-like sherry together. This drink made me realize the potential of agave spirits in cocktails, kinda like the Frostbite’s tequila-cacao combo, which is an eye-opener (as is Clyde Common’s Eggnog, a better-known combination of sherry and tequila). Adding a lemon twist to the Perla brings out an odd, metallic flavor and overwhelms the finer points of the ingredients, so I opted for the sweeter, gentler oils of the orange peel. If you’d like the sherry to stand out a bit more, go with a slightly milder reposado along the lines of Cazadores.

Sherry Cocktails (2 of 4)

Spanish Bay

  • 1 ounce Dry Sack Sherry
  • 1 ounce Green Chartreuse
  • 1 ounce Orange Juice

Shake with ice and strain into a cocktail glass or coupe. No garnish.

Created by Chris Hannah for Arnaud’s French 75 Bar in New Orleans. Found in Robert Hess’s Essential Bartender’s Guide.

Very good!  The Spanish Bay is full of fruit, herbs, and sweetness, tempered by mild acidity. Though it looks a bit murky, the drink is a winner. Floating around the edges is a taste that brings a Five Spice blend to mind (of all things).

If you’re wondering what “Dry sack” sherry is, it’s simply a dry sherry, “sack” being an antiquated English term for fortified Spanish wines. While there is, in fact, and company named Dry Sack that produces a medium sherry, try out different sherries for different effects, and don’t be afraid of blending them. For instance, I blended an amontillado and a cream sherry(which is a blend itself) just to gain a bit more sweetness and the drink turned out perfectly. Using only amontillado, the Chartreuse dominates.

Confused by all these names and types yet? So was I. Sorting through sherry’s incarnations and categories is one of the wine’s more intimidating aspects, but such classifications exist for nearly all distilled spirits — Scotch, tequila, brandy, you name it, it’s been categorized, and oftentimes the differences are slight. For a basic guide, check out Wikipedia (surprising, yes, but helpful). Amontillado, oloroso, cream, and Pedro Ximénez seem to used the most in cocktails. The drier sherries — fino and manzanilla — are better as apéritifs, while the sweeter varieties – Pedro Ximénez and cream — are best left for dessert, should you end up sipping the stuff neat.

Finally, we have a relatively straightforward drink from the Left Coast…

Sherry Cocktails (1 of 4)

Montresor and Fortunato

  • 1-1/2 ounce Emilio Lustau amontillado sherry
  • 3/4 ounce Grand Marnier
  • 1/2 ounce Carpano Antica Formula vermouth
  • Lemon and orange peels, for garnish
  • Three olives — Spanish, queen-size, pitted but not stuffed — on a pick, for garnish

Stir with ice and strain into a cocktail glass or coupe. Express the oils of the lemon and orange peels over the drink, then discard the peels. Garnish with the speared olives.

Created by Damian Windsor. Found in Left Coast Libations.

Named for the vengeful murderer and his victim in Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado,” the drink is smooth, slightly sweet, and subtle, changing significantly as it warms. The flavors seem to emerge sequentially — first comes the grape and oak of the sherry, followed by the vanilla-laced fruit and bitterness of the Carpano, topped off with the mellow orange of the Grand Marnier. The citrus remains surprisingly subdued. While I’m not really an olive fan, they do make for a nice little accompaniment to the drink — the Monstresor and Fortunato seems lonely without them and their saltiness, in fact.

So, find a bottle or two of sherry, do some research, and mix up some cocktails. You may not want to drink the stuff straight — yet — but I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. If worse comes to worse, you can always make a lovely sauce with what remains. Cheers!

Sherry Cocktails (4 of 4)

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“For the love of God, Montresor!”

“No, for the love of Sherry.”

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Photos by IJL.

Posted in Apricot Brandy, Drink Recipe, Fortified Wines, Grand Marnier, Green Chartreuse, Mixology Monday, Orange Juice, Sherry, Spirit Information, Sweet Vermouth, Tequila
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Speakeasy, the Nerina, and Employees Only

•January 15, 2013 • 2 Comments

What I love about books authored by bartenders is that they are written with a sense of calm, practical authority. No stand-offs or divisive arguments between mixology geeks, no lecturing on how to mix a proper Martini, just, “Here’s how we make a [insert drink], a hundred times a day, and if you would like something else, that’s fine. No matter what, it’ll be made right.” Such accommodating mastery is exemplified in a modern cocktail book called Speakeasy, written by Jason Kosmas, Dushan Zaric, and the gang of bartenders behind Employee’s Only, a speakeasy-style bar in New York.

Speakeasy

Speakeasy can be divided, roughly, into two sections, the first of which introduces us to the history of Employees Only, its methodology, and its technique. Kosmas and Zaric weave the story of EO’s founding into a New York cultural scene that was just recovering from 9/11 — where restaurants were closing early, business was down, and shifts were shortened, leaving employees with few after-hours hangouts and less pay. Having worked at vodka bars, where they upped the ante in the “martini” craze with fresh fruits and house-made ingredients, the founders shifted their focus to classic cocktails, just then coming into vogue. EO’s drinks were not strictly limited to the classics, nor were the classics considered unchangeable, and the bar adopted the mantra of “Passion, Knowledge, and Wisdom,” their cocktails being backed by 150 years of American drinking and finished with a dash of contemporary flair.

After establishing their reputation as a “New York institution,” Kosmas and Zaric move on to the real meat of the book: the recipes. Both classic and original drinks are covered, as one would expect from any cocktail book, but the difference here lies in the detail and specificity of each recipe. EO presents the reader with a brief story behind each cocktail, details of its evolution, and why and how it’s mixed at their bar, then provides a concise (but very descriptive) flavor profile, wrapping up each drink in a neat little bundle for future reference.

Regarding the classics, EO sticks pretty true to the average, with a few notable exceptions (the serve both a Manhattan Cocktail and a Contemporary Manhattan, for instance, and an emerald-green rendition of the Martinez). Odd dashes of simple syrup and bitters find their way into the standards here and there, but never to the detriment of the cocktail — you just have to trust the bartenders. Also, EO divides their recipes into apéritifs and “long and fancy cocktails,” which gives the reader an idea of when to drink each cocktail during a coursed meal or long evening — something that I wish more cocktail books did.

The inventiveness comes with the bar’s original recipes, which are evolved variations on classics. My favorite of these (thus far) is the Nerina, an utterly delightful gem of an apéritif that uses slightly uncommon ingredients…

Nerina (2 of 3)

Nerina

  • 1-1/4 ounce Plymouth Gin
  • 1-1/4 ounce Amaro Meletti
  • 1-1/4 ounce Punt e Mes

Stir with large, very cold ice cubes for 40 revolutions. Strain into a chilled coupe or cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange twist.

From Employees Only in New York, via Speakeasy.

Delicious. I’ll let Speakeasy do the talking:

  • Dominant Flavors: juniper, cinnamon, caramel, and orange on the nose
  • Body: velvety
  • Dryness: medium
  • Complexity: high
  • Accentuating or Contrasting Flavors: blend of herbs and spices
  • Finish: short, spicy with caramel overtones

I will also add that the Nerina was a surprise hit at a recent holiday party, its companions being the Jack Rose and the Applejack Old-Fashioned.

While some may find the book’s tone to be pretentious (see: Amazon reader reviews), I do not. Yes, the folks at EO are sticklers for technique, precision, and premium-quality ingredients, but that description applies to any craft cocktail bar in the country, let alone New York City, the Cocktail Mecca of the East Coast. True, this is not a book for the novice cocktailian, as many of its recipes use semi-obscure ingredients that are not universally available. Just look at the Nerina recipe, above, containing Plymouth gin, an amaro, and a bitter vermouth — your average drinker will not know or care what those ingredients are, will feel that they are too high-priced ($30, $20, and $23, respectively), and will not get much use out of them. To a cocktail enthusiast, however, they are worth having, and if you’re knowledgeable and can source the required components, knocking together EO’s drinks will be a cinch.

For many of their original drinks, however, EO relies on house-made specialties whose recipes can handily be found in the back of the book (the provençal vermouth looks particularly nice). Also included is a small selection of punches and pitcher drinks for larger parties.

A worthy addition to the library of any serious cocktailian — I recommend it, and I wonder why I didn’t take a look at it sooner than I did. Speakeasy almost fees like a precursor to The PDT Cocktail Book, each being a distillation (if you will) of the author/bartender’s knowledge and experience, served up to the home enthusiast.

Cheers, and happy mixing!

Nerina (3 of 3)

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Photos by IJL.

Posted in Amari, Cocktail Books, Drink Recipe, Gin, Punt e Mes
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I’ll take an Aviation — Blue, if you please.

•December 22, 2012 • 2 Comments

Way, way back in 1916, a little-known Bavarian-born bartender named Hugo Ensslin self-published a wholly unremarkable little book. Covered with stiffened, nondescript brown paper and given an unassuming title — Recipes for Mixed Drinks – the book contained the recipes for over 400 libations that were being mixed at bars across the City of New York. Many of the drinks, it is assumed, were served up by Mr. Ensslin himself at the Hotel Wallick (at Broadway and 43rd, long since demolished), where he worked as head bartender. The publishing of a cocktail book — and including advertisements for the booze of the day — was undoubtedly seen as a way to make an extra buck, but Ensslin’s book did not garner much acclaim, and it remains one of the rarest cocktail books ever printed. After a second, updated printing was made in 1917, Ensslin himself drops out of history; nearly all the evidence we have of his existence are ships’ manifests, public directory listings, and his little book — the last bar guide to come out of New York before Prohibition.

EnsslinBook

Fast-forward to the early 21st Century, when craft cocktails are starting to make a comeback. Bartenders and amateur cocktailians are scouring bookstores and the internet for all the old cocktail tomes they can find. One of them, drink historian David Wondrich, spotted Ensslin’s book on Ebay, placed a bid, and won the auction with little or no competition. When the book arrived (at lunchtime), he flipped it open to page number seven, then proceeded to spill soup all over himself — or nearly so.

The commotion was due to the following:

Aviation (1 of 2)

Aviation

  • 2 ounces Gin [Aviation suggested]
  • 3/4 ounce Lemon Juice
  • 1/3 – 1/2 ounce Luxardo Maraschino Liqueur
  • 1/4 ounce Rothman & Winter Créme de Violette

Shake with ice and fine strain into a coupe or cocktail glass. A Meyer lemon peel makes a nice garnish, if you have them lying around.

Cobbled together from numerous sources, including Ensslin, but the proportions are mainly from The PDT Cocktail Book.

In 2004, the Aviation had a standing reputation as the drink of the emerging cocktail connoisseur — it was brisk, refreshing, and, perhaps most important,  it used maraschino liqueur, which was especially hard to come by. If you had a bottle, you knew what you were about, and were seriously into mixed drinks; obtaining a bottle of Luxardo won kudos and bragging rights. Given the drink’s semi-obscure source (Harry Craddock’s 1930 Savoy Cocktail Book), its Prohibition-era pedigree, and its rare, secret ingredient, the Aviation acted a badge of honor or a secret handshake for the classic cocktail crowd.

So you see, the discovery of an earlier Avaition recipe came as a bit of a shock to those who had considered the Deco-era Savoy version as the definitive one. The unearthing of Ensslin’s book pushed the earliest-known listing of the Aviation Cocktail back 14 years (though there are vague references pointing back to 1911), and revealed the reason behind the drink’s name, for a fourth ingredient was present in the 1916 recipe: créme de violette. A scant teaspoon (or a nice, round 1/4 ounce) resulted in a cocktail with a pale, periwinkle/sky blue hue, clearing up any issues of nomeclature. Not only that, but Ensslin’s book re-defined the origin of many other drinks that had been attributed to Harry Craddock: further perusal of Recipes for Mixed Drinks revealed that he had, in fact, borrowed 146 of Ensslin’s recipes for the Savoy’s drinks manual. Patrick Gavin Duffy, author of the equally-influential Official Mixer’s Manual, borrowed even more recipes from Ensslin.

As a result of the new discovery, a split formed between Aviation drinkers: those who prefer the Modern, violette-free version and those who enjoy the Original, sky-blue cocktail.

Aviation (2 of 2)

I’ve had both versions, and personally, I prefer the Original. In the Modern version, the maraschino liqueur is just too much: you end up with a tart, crisp wallop of drink that is dominated by the earthy, woodsy cherries of the maraschino. If you reduce the maraschino a tad and add a small dose of violette, however, you end up with a much more complex and pleasing drink, one that seems to change subtly over the few minutes you spend sipping it.

And though it may seem a bit trite, I like an Aviaton made with Aviation Gin — the lavender of the spirit is emphasized by the violette and maraschino, and the overall feel of the drink is a bit rounder, or more velvety…cloud-like, you might say. No wonder the guys in Portland named their gin after the cocktail. Other American gins — Junipero (peppery), Death’s Door (crisp), even Bluecoat (of which I’m not especially fond, but lemony) — mix very well in the drink, while the sturdy London dry gins are, I feel, best left for the Modern Aviation.

Speaking of the Modern version: if you’d like to try one, I recommend the drink as it’s made at Employees Only in New York…

ModernAviation

Modern Aviation

  • 1-1/2 ounces Plymouth Gin
  • 1 ounce Lemon Juice
  • 3/4 ounce Luxardo Maraschino Liqueur
  • 1/4 Simple Syrup (1-1/3 to 1)
  • Garnish: Dash of Angostura bitters, lemon wheel, brandied cherry.

 Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Add the bitters to the top of the drink, then garnish with the lemon and cherry.

From Speakeasy, by Jason Kosmas & Dushan Zaric (10 Speed Press, 2010)

By far the smoothest version of the modernized Aviation I’ve tried, the EO keeps the maraschino in check and ups the complexity of he drink with a dash of bitters at the end — it’s a bit like the Fitzgerald, in fact. While it’s not sky blue, EO’s Aviation comes out a lovely sunset pink when stirred — still valid, as the sky takes on many different hues, so why not retain the name?

So, if you’re searching for more (and simple) uses for maraschino liqueur, and if you’ve decided to spring for a bottle of violette, give both Aviations a test flight and see which one you like best. Either way, you won’t be disappointed.

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Photos by IJL.

Posted in Creme de Violette, Drink Recipe, Gin, Lemon Juice, Maraschino
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Have a Sip of Byrrh, then make Byrrh Cocktails

•November 28, 2012 • 5 Comments

Here in the U.S. we now have access to a growing number of European spirits and liqueurs that, until now, were rarely seen on these shores: Carpano Antica and Cocchi Vermouth di Torino, Zucca, Bonal Gentiane-Quina, Cocchi Americano, and Suze, to name a few of them. Then there are the numerous Italian amari and Fernets — Averna, Cynar, Ramazzotti, Nonino, Meletti, and the bartender’s secret handshake, Fernet-Branca. Humbler still are the old standbys like Campari, Aperol, Noilly Prat Original, and Lillet, all of which would have been considered exotic only ten years ago.

Unless they’ve cruised the streets of Milan during Happy Hour or sipped an apéritif in a French café, most Americans probably haven’t tasted these spirits, let alone heard of them. And though these European novelties are likely residing on the shelves of their local liquor store right now (excepting the most removed of package stores), customers will likely cast an eye over the dusty bottle with the overly-fancy Italian label that costs $20 or $30, then move on. The biggest deterrent, aside from unfamiliarity, I think, is the basic contrast between European eating habits and our own: we don’t really have an apéritif or digestif drinking culture (yet), and most of the spirits listed above are consumed before or after dinner with little or no modification, so the American demand for them remains low. Things seem to be changing, however.

If you pay attention at craft cocktail bars, then you’ll notice that amari have invaded the inventory. Maraschino liqueur is now a given, as is quality sloe gin. Shots of Fernet-Branca have become a rite of passage. Vermouth is being treated and stored properly, as are other fortified wines and apéritifs. Even the chefs on the Cooking Channel are using Campari. The thing is, all of these spirits are being incorporated into cocktails — rarely are they taken neat, on ice, or with a splash of soda or champagne, enjoyed as their makers often intend. To the Europeans, I say: I’m sorry, mixed drinks are part of our history and drinking culture, and we just can’t help dumping your spirits (however wonderfully balanced they may be) into a cocktail. To the Americans, I say: sip that well-crafted $12 cocktail, but go out on a limb, surprise the bartender, and order a Lillet (on the rocks, with an orange twist) before your meal or an amaro (neat), after dinner — even better, order a glass of port or sherry, that’ll really throw ‘em for a loop.

Anyway, you might have noticed one of these apéritifs lurking in the recent Elder-Upper post: Byrrh Grand Quinquina. As spirits writer Jason Wilson notes, Byrrh has long been confined within European borders, but thanks to the efforts of Eric Seed (spirits importer of Haus Alpenz, responsible for Batavia Arrack van Oosten and R&W Violette, among others), Americans may now enjoy this quinquina. A quinquina, for those unfamiliar with the term, is a fortified wine that is infused with chinchona bark, a source of quinine; the quinine in the bark gives adds a tonic water-like taste to the quinquina.

Oh, and on the pronunciation: apparently it’s BEER or BEE-AIR, rather than BRRR…though the latter is much more fun to say, so I’m sticking with it.

Being a fortified red wine, Byrrh is slightly sweet and quite fruity, with a port-like taste that is accompanied by a bit of tonic-quinine bitterness and a hint of spice — cinnamon, perhaps. I like to use the following analogy:

Byrrh : Dubonnet Rouge :: Cocchi Americano : Lillet Blanc

Byrrh has a bit more flavorful oomph to it than Dubonnet, and much more emphasis on the quinine; Cocchi and Lillet work the same way, but with a white wine base. If you locate a bottle of Byrrh, try it on the rocks with an orange or lemon twist — before dinner, of course, and preferably in the company of something French — then get to mixing. I suggest the following to start…

Byrrh Cocktail #1

  • 1-1/2 ounces Byrrh Grand Quinquina
  • 1 ounce VSOP Cognac [Ferrand 1840]
  • 1/4 ounce Kirschwasser [Clear Creek]

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Adapted from Meier’s The Artistry of Mixing Drinks (1936) via Jason Wilson, The Washington Post.

The #1 is quite marvelous, and, as my tasting notes say, “very French.” The sweetness level is perfectly balanced, and the woodsy, cherry notes of the kirsch are surprisingly emphasized by the fruity Byrrh — I hadn’t expected to get that much out of a quarter ounce of the eau de vie, but there you have it. I recommend a dry, yet fruitful, cognac — Pierre Ferrand 1840 is a bit on the sweet side, but Camus VSOP will also do nicely — to play along with the cherry and spiced wine flavors of the kirsch and quinquina. The recipe itself comes from Jason Wilson’s aforementioned column, though he found it in Frank Meier’s The Artistry of Mixing Drinks (1936); Meier was head bartender of the Ritz Bar in Paris for two decades, and his Byrrh Cocktail has a distinctively Old World feel to it.

Byrrh Cocktail #2

  • 1 to 1-1/2 ounce Bourbon, Rye, or Canadian Whiskey [a mild is rye suggested]
  • 1 ounce Byrrh Grand Quinquina
  • 1 ounce Dry Vermouth [Noilly Prat Original]

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Adapted from Craddock’s Savoy Cocktail Book via Ellestad’s Savoy Stomp.

The #2? Not quite as marvelous. Rather unexciting, I found, but perhaps my choice of ingredients played a part. Using Buffalo Trace as a base, the drink is entirely dominated by the bourbon — slightly sweet, slightly altered bourbon, it’s true, but still bourbon. I had better results using Whistle Pig Rye (yes, I mixed with the precious stuff), which is the mildest, smoothest rye I have on hand; its grassy notes worked well with the herbal Noilly Prat and fruity Byrrh. Definitely go with the equal portions on this drink: though the result may be slightly sweet, it’s the only way to counter whatever whiskey you opt to add in. I’ve not tried this one with scotch, but Pig’s Nose seems like a nice choice, being malty, smooth, and on the mild end of the Scotch spectrum.

I also have a hunch that Byrrh will go well with gin…future experimentation awaits! Cheers!

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Photos by IJL.

Posted in Bourbon, Byrrh, cognac, Drink Recipe, Dry Vermouth, Kirsch, Rye, Spirit Information, Whiskey
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Original Drink: The Elder-Upper

•November 21, 2012 • 3 Comments

If you didn’t know already, St. Germain, the makers of the impeccable elderflower liqueur, are holding a cocktail contest, their 5th Annual Can-Can Classic. The challenge? Create an original drink using at least one ounce of St. Germain that exhibits Originality and Taste, to be judged by Representatives of St. Germain…and Martha Stewart’s editorial staff (Hey, they’re co-sponsors this year, no avoiding it). Grand Prize? A trip to Paris or $10,000. Runners up get St. Germain bicycles, perfect for gathering your very own elderflower blossoms in the Swiss Alps.

For me, a significant part of the challenge is the fact that I’ve always found St. G. a bit difficult to mix with. While it’s very distinct, sweet, and wonderfully floral – almost like honeysuckle, but with notes of tropical fruit — I find Germain subtle enough to disappear in cocktails unless used with comparatively mild ingredients or added in large doses (which tends to result in overly-sweet cocktails — it is a liqueur, after all). Interestingly, though, St. Germain also seems to act as a blending agent, helping to combine disparate flavors. Oh, and it always goes remarkably well with champagne: just tip a little bit into the bottom of a flute filled with your favorite bubbly.

All that being said, here’s one of my entries, an Autumnal take on the Corpse Reviver No. 2, the…

Elder-Upper

  • 1-1/2 ounce Buffalo Trace Bourbon
  • 1 ounce St. Germain Edlerflower Liqueur
  • 1 ounce Byrrh
  • 1 ounce Lemon Juice
  • Spritz or 1/4-ounce Bitter Truth Allspice Dram, to coat glass

Shake the bourbon, Byrrh, Germain and lemon with ice. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass that has been rinsed with allspice dram.

There you have it. If you know the formula of the CR#2, the construction of the Elder-Upper is easy to follow: gin is replaced by bourbon, Cointreau by Germain, Lillet Blanc by Byrrh, and the absinthe by allspice dram. The recipe listed above results in a somewhat larger drink than I would like, but contest rules are contest rules; Ideally, I would reduce everything by a 1/4 ounce.

Bourbon provides a solid, woodsy base while the Byrrh and elderflower provide a fruity, floral, wine-like, tasteful counterpart, their sweetness being cut by the lemon juice. The nose is mostly spice, thanks to the allspice rinse, and it combines nicely with the sweet, crisp fruit and bourbon of the main mixture. All in all, the Elder-Upper is decidedly Punch-like.

For variations, try using Laird’s Bonded apple brandy as a base: it results in a bombastically fruity drink that was my original formula  but I feel that the bourbon offers a better counterbalance and backbone. Replacing half of the citrus with orange juice isn’t bad, either, and tends to smooth out the edges of the drink, eliminating that back-of-the-throat “stickiness” that tends to occur when using large amounts of lemon juice and quinine-laced wines such as Byrrh.

Speaking of Byrrh, it’s very nice — quite similar to Dubonnet Rouge, being a fortified wine, but with a flavor that is a bit more like port than a sweetened red. I find that Byrrh is a bit heavier on the tonic/quinine than Dubonnet, with subtle hints of spice — cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice — popping up in the background.

So, give the Elder-Upper a whirl if you’re a Corpse Reviver fan. Cheers!

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Photos by IJL.

Posted in Bourbon, Byrrh, Drink Recipe, Lemon Juice, Original Drinks, Pimento/Allspice Dram, St. Germain Elderflower
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Is Proof & Provision My New Favorite Bar?

•November 10, 2012 • 2 Comments

In a word, Yes.

True, I like Holeman & Finch, but it takes aim at the semi-high-spending gastropub crowd and is a tad over-hyped (I admit, I’ve done my share of hyping). I mean, H&F has become a destination now, lauded by the AJC, listed in Food + Wine’s “Best Bars in the World/Country,” and written up in Imbibe and Southern Living, among others. Leon’s is a Decatur staple, and has a booze supply that can’t be beat, but it’s always too busy and too noisy. Those other cocktail bars around town? I get the feeling they’re really restaurants that happen to have cocktail programs. All well and good, but what was missing was somewhere you could just pop in, plop down, sip something great, and munch on hefty vittles to soak up the booze — the quintessential corner bar. Proof & Provision fills the gap.

Nestled in the basement of the historic Georgian Terrace in Midtown, P&P is small, comfortable, and (relatively) quiet: perfect for conversing with your companions or — my favorite thing to do — pick the brains of the bartenders, who are friendly, knowledgeable, and as willing to drink PBRs as they are shoot Fernet-Branca or sip Manhattans. The spirits selection is dive bar in size but cocktail bar in quality, and the cocktail list is balanced between refreshing sours and reinventions of boozy classics.

From the menu, I sampled the Notre Carré — “Our Square” — a barrel-aged take on the venerable Vieux Carré, made with Redemption Rye, Prunier VS Cognac, Vya Sweet Vermouth, Orange Bitters, Leopold Bros. 3 Pins Herbal Liqueur, and Moroccan Bitters…

Notre Carré

…and it’s delicious, but it’s best to let it warm up a little bit, just to thicken up some and to let the flavors warm up: when chilled, it feels a tad thin in the mouth. Overall, it’s a lighter, mellowed-out version of the V.C. that’s woody, slightly herbal and fruity with a nice background of flavorful spice.

Indian Summer

Friend Jack, on the other hand, tried out the Indian Summer — Purity Vodka, Leopold Blackberry Liqueur, lemon and orange juices, mint, and jam — which was light on the alcohol, fizzy, and refreshingly fruity. And here’s a tip on adding soda water: the guys here at P&P pour the soda and the shaken mixture into the glass at the same time; it seems to incorporate a little better than if you had simply topped off with the soda and then stirred it in.

Southern 75

Jack also ordered the Southern 75, made with Four Roses Bourbon (rather than the gin or cognac found in the French 75), demerara syrup, lemon juice, and Finch’s Cutthroat IPA (in lieu of champagne). A bit more woodsy depth than the typical light, bright French original, with some nice flavors and edginess contributed by the hops in the IPA. Intriguingly, it arrives as a built drink, split into three subtle layers and stirred before quaffing. Very nice.

My absolute favorite drink of the night, however, was the venerable Old-Fashioned. Surprising, but true. Lately, I’ve given up on ordering them as “test cocktails” at bars: the O.F. varies wildly depending on who’s making it, and most of the time it’s too watered down (wet ice) or the whiskey’s too weak (cheap) to really shine through. I just haven’t had much luck. I don’t even make them at home very often, and for about the same reasons: many of mine come out too watery if stirred with ice and too boozy when poured, straight, over a giant ice cube. In the Old-Fashioned, more so than any other cocktail, proper dilution is everything.

Bartender’s Choice: Best. Old-Fashioned. Ever.

When I asked our bartender, Alexander, to whip up something of his choice (“Nothing bitter” being my only input), this is what came out: a blend of Four Roses and Old Forester Bourbons (or maybe it was just the Forester), Angostura Orange Bitters, Molé Bitters, and simple syrup, stirred with a large ice cube and then garnished with a flamed orange twist. Perfection. Absolutely the best Old-fashioned I’ve ever had, my own included. The syrup made the bourbon thick and rich without over-sweetening the drink while the bitters provided just the right amount of spicy depth; the flamed orange peel was especially zesty and caramel-y — I’m guessing the bitters played a major role in upping its qualities. Don’t know how he did it…guess I’ll have to pay more attention next time.

For those seeking other potent potables, there’s also a carefully-assembled beer and wine selection. Alysha, the third of our trio, is apparently a cider-holic, and was pleased to find J.K. Scrumpy Hard Cider on the menu. I’d never had any before, but it was very enjoyable:  the Scrumpy is not a dry cider, but a sweet, golden one that is close to a fizzy, clarified version of the “cider” we often find a grocery stores, with a nice amount of tartness and subtle spice. Good stuff, if you want something heartier than Crispin. I’d like to see some artisinal hard ciders around town, now that I think about it…

Oh, and the food? Hearty, amped-up takes on drunk-food classics. Pretzels? Check, and perfect (cover with mustard, dip in cheese sauce, chomp, repeat). Grilled cheese? Hot off the grill and delicious, especially when stuffed with bourbon barrel bacon and paired with a finger of whiskey. The french bread pizzas (all the bread comes from H&F — yes, them — Bread Co.) are also great, Harold’s Revenge being our favorite. And the nightly special — asparagus, served cold, with bleu cheese and bacon — was top notch, something more likely to be found in the kitchen of the Livingston upstairs than in a corner bar.

French Bread Pizzas and Grilled Cheese 

Asparagus with House-made Bleu Cheese Dressing and Bacon 

Pretzels with House-made Mustard

While there aren’t any entrees on the menu, you can easily assemble some small plates into a meal or divvy them up among party members. A nice bonus is the fact that all the plates cost the same or less than the cocktails, none of which top twelve bucks (most are $8-10).

Anyway, the pricing brings me back around to my original point: Proof & Provision has stepped in as the kind of low-key, affordable neighborhood bar that seems to missing in Atlanta and around much of the South. P&P is not a beer hall, pub, or dive bar, nor is it a glitzy night club, a fine-dining establishment, or, Heaven forbid, a snobby Temple of Mixology — it lies squarely in the middle of the spectrum. Need booze and food that’s familiar and comfortable? No problem. Trying something new? The kitchenette and bar can satisfy your curiosity; the bill won’t break the bank and everything is done well. I can see P&P being a neighborhood gem for knowledgeable and thirsty locals and regulars, easily missed by the theater-going crowds at the nearby Fox or seekers of the trendy nightlife — hopefully it stays that way.

Can’t wait to go back.

Alexander, the triple-shaker-wielding madman.

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PS: Jon Watson, of the AJC, has a nice review of P&P, as does Cliff Bostock of Creative Loafing. Check ‘em out.

PPS: I had a glass of Amaro Nonino after all was said and done — very nice. Smooth and sweet, very heavy on the orange peel and not quite as bitter as Amaro Montenegro. Alexander suggests that it makes sublime substitute for Amer Picon in the Brooklyn cocktail.

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Photos by IJL.

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Posted in Atlanta Bars, Bar Visit
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Where Has All the Pumpkin Beer Gone?

•October 29, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Search me. After a reading a number of articles on Serious Eats about all the pumpkin beers that are (or were) out and about on the market, I headed to a couple of the local booze shops to buy some. Nothin’ and nada. No luck. I’m serious. No pumpkin beer! Well, maybe a few straggling bottles of stuff I wasn’t really interested in…but, ultimately, my search was fruitless — er, squash-less.

Did I miss something? Does pumpkin beer season not extend beyond Halloween? Can I not get beer crammed full of squash for Thanksgiving? What gives? Did Atlanta Beer Week and Halloween combine into the Turducken of Storms (thank you, Al Roker), which then siphoned off all the pumpkin ale? Or perhaps (more probably), agricultural seasonality is clashing with my own selfish desires.

Anyway, the stuff was everywhere a month ago, which is when I mixed up and photographed the following seasonally-appropriate drink, perhaps not to be tasted for another year…

The Great Pumpkin

  • 2 ounces Southampton Pumpkin Ale [Dogfish Head Punkin' Ale]
  • 1 ounce Bonded Rittenhouse Rye
  • 1 ounce Laird’s Bonded Apple Brandy
  • 1/2 ounce Grade B Maple Syrup
  • 1 Whole Egg

Add all ingredients to a mixing glass. Swirl to de-carbondate beer. Dry shake to emulsify, then add ice and shake. Strain into a chilled fizz glass. Garnish with grated nutmeg.

Adapted from Jim Meehan’s PDT Cocktail Book (p. 136)

The Great Pumpkin is a wonderfully rich drink and an extremely smooth and filling Flip. The rye and applejack, both being brash, bonded spirits, make their fruity robustness known up-front, but they’re reigned in and buried underneath a distinct taste of cream, maple, and nutmeg. The pumpkin beer is relatively subdued here, providing a kind of caramel-filled middle ground in which the booze and maple are able to mingle. The Great Pumpkin is the embodiment of the late Fall harvest in a glass, perfect for a cloudy, windy afternoon accompanying the cold front that Canada just sent your way.

Based on the two pumpkin beers I’ve tasted (Dogfish Head Punkin’ and Southern Tier Pumking), the drink will vary considerably depending on your choice. Punkin’ is fairly light on the pumpkin pie spices (brown sugar, allspice, nutmeg,  cinnamon) and on what I call “spice burn,” where strong spices like nutmeg and allspice can overwhelm and shut down your taste buds. Dogfish also has a definite pumpkin flavor — which I like — in the form of a squashiness hiding in the brown ale. From what I’ve read on Southampton, used by PDT, I figured that Dogfish would be a good substitute, focusing more on accenting the beer with squash and spice rather than cramming pumpkin pie into a bottle.

Southern Tier Pumking, on the other hand, is much more generous in the spice department. There’s a little bit of bitterness up front, with a nose that smells distinctly of bread and caramel. The taste is a bit more like Libbey Pumpkin Pureé than actual squash, with quite a bit more spice burn than the Dogfish, but I still like it. I would have loved to try Pumking in the Great Pumpkin, as it would have punched its way through the eggy heaviness and emboldened the drink with spice.

So, while you sit in the pumpkin patch with Linus, waiting for His Pumpkiness to arrive, pour some pumpkin ale or mix up a hearty cocktail to keep yourself warm…provided you can find the beer, of course.

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Photos by IJL. Great Pumpkin illustration by Chris Gall, The PDT Cocktail Book.

 

Posted in Apple Brandy, Beer, Beer Cocktails, Drink Recipe, Eggs, Maple Syrup, Rye
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