Drinks From the Past for the Future
For Lemon Water Ice:
- 2 cups sugar
- 2 cups water
- 1 cup fresh lemon juice
- zest from 2 lemons
Combine water and sugar and heat until sugar is dissolved to make a simple syrup. Let cool to room temperature, then add the lemon juice and zest. Chill and then process in an ice cream maker.
While this is pretty simple to make in an ice cream maker, if you don’t have one you can place it in the freezer and stir every half hour or so until it becomes slushy. Tasty even outside of cocktails.
Like Smoky Scotch? Have a Rusty Nail:
- 2 ounces good smoky Scotch
- 1 ounce Drambuie
Combine in a small rocks glass on a couple of lumps of ice and swizzle. Garnish with a lemon twist.
I don’t like peaty Scotches. I’m not saying they are bad, it’s just that I don’t care for them. I know that some people seek them out, which has resulted in high peat bottlings such as the Peat Monster, but they just aren’t my thing. De gustibus non est disputandum.
So I was perfectly ready to hate this drink. In fact, the main reason I made it was that it completed the last column in the Index under the “Extra Credit” section and I suffer from mild OCD.
I did want to try it, though, because it features Drambuie, which I had never tried. I sampled a bit of it plain and liked it quite a bit. The first impression was very herbal and I thought it would be like an amaro, but unlike amari it finishes sweet.
For more tips on how to make this drink, I looked up the recipe from the Death & Co. book:
- 2.00 ounces Springbank 10-year Scotch
- 0.75 ounce Drambuie
- 1 dash Bitter Truth Aromatic Bitters
Stir all the ingredients over ice, then strain into a double rocks glass over one large ice cube. Garnish with a lemon twist.
Since I live in North Carolina, I am unable to get Springbank Scotch but my friend Ben has had it and quite likes it. One review describes it as “The peat is present and quite pungent with an earthen rootiness” so I guess we do want a peaty Scotch. I consulted a Scotch flavor map (yoinked from here):
and noted that toward the upper end of the smokiness scale was the Caol Ila 12-year-old. For some reason I happen to have a bottle, stashed in the back of my whisky collection.
When I opened it, the bar was flooded with the smell of a cold charcoal grill left open to a spring rain. I decided to follow the Doctor’s proportions but added the Bitter Truth bitters (since I quite like them).
And, surprisingly, I liked this drink. The sweetness of the Drambuie tempers the peatiness of the Scotch. Not quiet enough, I’d love to try this drink with something like a Highland Park 18, but as I’m still waiting for someone to gift me a bottle of that libation that test will have to wait.
I liked it so much that I asked Andrea to try it. She had a problem getting past the smell, which she compared to burning tires. She literally held her nose before taking a sip and pronouncing it awful, so I don’t expect this drink to be for everyone.
It does make me want to seek out more Drambuie recipes, however.
Rating: 4/5 – this is a very, very weak 4 but I did like it much more than I thought I would. I’m giving the rating based upon the potential for this drink with a slightly less smoky whisky.
Notes: As mentioned, I used Caol Ila 12-year-old.
In search of refreshment? Have a Tom Collins:
- 2 ounces gin
- 1 ounce fresh lemon juice
- 1 ounce simple syrup
- Soda water
Combine all except soda water in an iced cocktail shaker. Shake and strain into a highball or collins glass with 2 or 3 lumps of ice. Top with soda water. Garnish with a cherry and an orange wheel.
I am on vacation this week, but since I’m addicted to work this means that I’m taking a week off to work on the farm. After spending about seven hours on a tractor, I was in search of refreshment, and nothing quite hits the spot like a Tom Collins.
As usual, I cross referenced this recipe with the one from Death & Co., and theirs was pretty much the same:
- 2.00 ounces Beefeater London Dry Gin
- 1.00 ounce fresh lemon juice
- 0.75 ounce simple syrup
- Club soda
Short shake all the ingredients (except the club soda) with three ice cubes, then strain into a highball glass filled with ice cubes. Top with club soda. Garnish with an orange wheel and cherry flag and serve with a straw.
For once the Good Doctor’s recipe was sweeter.
As I’ve mentioned numerous times before, few things go together like gin and lemon (raspberries and chocolate, salt and pepper, peanut butter and jelly). Add some sugar and some sparkling water and you have yourselves a drink.
This cocktail is a Fizz, which as we’ve learned is a Sour with fizzy water added. I liked this drink so much more than the Whiskey Sour, even though the main difference is choice of spirit. Now I love bourbon, but when it comes to refreshment on a hot summer day, gin wins every time. For calorie reasons I often lean toward a Gin and Tonic with diet tonic, but if my weight was not a problem I could drink a pitcher of these in any month without an “R” in its name.
If you are looking for an amazing Fizz with bourbon, the Fred Collins Fiz is excellent.
Rating: 5/5
Notes: I used Beefeater Gin as recommended in the Death & Co. recipe, but I made the Dr. Cocktail recipe. For carbonated water, I use a Sodastream. Not sure if the master bartenders would approve, but it is affordable and works for me.
Adding to my confusion, it’s the Whiskey Sour:
- 2.00 ounces bourbon or rye whiskey
- 1.00 ounce fresh lemon juice
- 0.75 ounce simple syrup
- Soda water
Combine all except soda water in an iced cocktail shaker. Shake and strain into a 6-ounce sour glass. Top with soda water. Garnish with a cherry and a lemon twist.
When I cross referenced this with the Death & Co. book, they had a different recipe:
- 2.00 ounces Buffalo Trace Bourbon
- 0.75 ounce fresh lemon juice
- 0.75 simple syrup
- 1 egg white
Dry shake all the ingredients, the shake again with ice. Double strain into a double rocks glass over 1 large ice cube. Add a dash of Angostura bitters on top and garnish with an orange and cherry flag.
Note the difference: the latter substitutes an egg white for the soda water.
Solely in the interest of science, I made both.
Here’s where I get confused. As I mentioned in the Singapore Sling post, a sling was supposed to be “spirit, water, sugar and citrus”. But that tends to be the exact description of a sour. (sigh)
I’ve started reading the excellent Dead Rabbit Drinks Manual, where I’ve come to realize that I know jack about cocktails. They define a sour as above and a fizz as just a sour with soda water added. To them, slings and toddies consist of “spirit, water and sugar” where the water is still in a toddy and carbonated in a sling. David Wondrich takes it further by calling hot versions toddies and cold versions slings.
So, by this definition, both the Singapore Sling and Straits Sling are actually Fizzes, and in the Dead Rabbit book the Straits Sling is listed in the Sours and Fizzes section.
Got it? Then let me throw this at you. The other “sour” I’ve made is the Delicious Sour, which contained an egg white, like the Death & Co. recipe above. Drinks containing eggs can be considered Flips, although Flips contain whole eggs. I have not be able to find a class of drinks that just contain egg whites, so let’s go ahead and assume that the Death & Co. recipe is indeed a sour, although the Dr. Cocktail version is, indeed, a Fizz (his recipe for a Tom Collins is the same as above with gin replacing the whiskey).
I made both, since it was a hot day and I’m technically on vacation. Note that the Dr. Cocktail recipe is served neat whereas the Death and Co. version is over ice.
Both were good, but not outstanding. I think I would have liked the Dr. Cocktail version over ice to keep it cooler, but I really disliked the bitters garnish on the Death and Co. version since it looked more like a stain across the top of an otherwise pristine foam. I liked the flavor, so if I make this in the future I’ll shake it in. Both Andrea and I expressed a small preference for the Death & Co. version.
Rating: 4/5 for both.
Notes: I used Buffalo Trace Bourbon in both to make the comparison as close as possible.
By special request, it’s The Sazerac:
- 1 teaspoon absinthe or pastis (Herbsaint, Pernod or Ricard)
- 1 teaspoon simple syrup
- 3 to 4 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters
- 3 ounces rye whiskey (Sazerac 6 year is a fine one)
Chill an old-fashioned glass. Coat the inside of the glass with the absinthe or pastis, leaving a slight puddle in the glass bottom. Add the simple syrup and bitters. In a separate mixing glass, combine the whiskey and the simple syrup with ice and stir. Strain the contents of the mixing glass into the old-fashioned glass. Smartly twist a strip of lemon peel over the surface of the drink and discard (or toss in; I’m not here to judge). Serve.
Okay, so the Sazerac is one of those vintage cocktails that are starting to appear on modern drink menus, and without exception every one I’ve had has been horrible. Like, barely drinkable horrible and not just “I don’t care for this drink” horrible. Note that I never asked my friend Justin to make me one, so I would assume his would be an exception, but for now I only drink Sazerac’s that I make myself.
More than almost any other cocktail I’ve made for this blog, the Sazerac takes technique. Even Dr. Cocktail’s instructions are a little vague, I didn’t understand what to do with the simple syrup as it was written, so I asked him on Twitter.
The fact that it is so hard to make is a shame, since it is a very nice cocktail.
The Sazerac is truly vintage, dating from around the 1850s in New Orleans. It is the official cocktail of that city – so forget wandering around Bourbon Street with a fishbowl of Hurricane around your neck – this drink typifies the Big Easy.
It was originally made with a pre-phylloxera Cognac called Sazerac-de-Forge et Fils and when that became unavailable the recipe switched to rye. The locally produced Peychaud’s bitters adds to the association (and adds a nice purplish hue to the drink). The bar that invented the cocktail also spawned the Sazerac Company which is the largest distillery company in the US. They produce a brand of rye with the same name.
I’ve been cross-referencing these recipes with those from the Death & Co. book, and I really like their recipe:
- Vieux Pontarlier Absinthe
- 1.5 ounces Rittenhouse 100 Rye
- 0.5 ounce Pierre Ferrand 1840 Cognac
- 1.0 teaspoon Demerara Syrup
- 4 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters
- 1 dash Angostura bitters
- 1 lemon twist
Rinse a rocks glass with absinthe and dump. Stir the remaining ingredients (except the lemon twist) over ice, then strain into the glass. Squeeze the lemon twist over the drink and discard. No garnish.
I like it for a number of reasons. It is less strong than the one by Dr. Cocktail and combines both a premium rye with a cognac made in the style consistent with those from the mid-19th century. This is the recipe I used, and it parallels a lot of the comments made by cocktail guru Jeffrey Morgenthaler on the drink.
The other reason I liked it was that I had all of the liquor but their recommended brand of absinthe, which is unusual since their choices can be hard to source, especially outside of Manhattan.
So here is how I make it. First, New Orleans is hot so you want this drink to be cold. I chilled a glass in the freezer before making this. Next, follow the Death & Co. instructions and just rinse the glass with the absinthe. The main sin I’ve seen with this drink is too much absinthe which just overpowers the drink. I then put the rest of the ingredients in an iced mixing glass and stirred. As Morgenthaler writes “Do not shake your Sazerac. Remember, shaking a clear drink is like shaking a baby: first there’s going to be a lot of foam, and then you’ll be staring death in the face.”
Words to live by.
The final step is very important – you need a hint of lemon over the top of the drink, similar to the orange peel in the Hanky Panky.
The Sazerac is a complex drink that is well worth the effort to make correctly.
Rating: 5/5
Notes: I used the recommended Rittenhouse 100 Rye, which is a fine rye for classic cocktails. If I ever get a bottle of the Sazerac rye I’ll be sure to try it in the drink, well, because. While I’m not wealthy enough to afford pre-phylloxera cognac, I do like the Pierre Ferrand 1840 as it is supposed to be as accurate as you can get at an affordable price point. I used Absente Absinthe because I had a bottle received as a gift, but absinthe lovers don’t seem to care much for it. The Vieux Pontarlier fares better in reviews, but I have been unable to get a bottle. I think pastis would work here as well. The Death & Co. recipe for Demerara Syrup is two parts Demerara sugar to one part water. It’s very sweet but you don’t use much of it.
In honor of Mike Doughty, here’s The Rob Roy:
- 2.5 ounces Scotch
- 1.0 ounce sweet vermouth (or more for a sweeter drink)
- 2 dashes Angostura bitters
Combine in an iced cocktail glass. Stir and strain into a cocktail glass or onto fresh rocks in a rocks glass. Either way, garnish with a cherry.
The reason I made this in honor of Mike Doughty is due to a lyric in his song “Lorna Zauberberg”, one of my favorites:
Vicious mobs of candy-ravers stalk the night
And methadonians sleep right where they stand
A weeping tranny is cradling a steak knife
And you’re happily slugging Rob Roys with your man
Poetry.
Plus, today is the start of his Living Room Tour 2016. Trust me, these intimate shows are not to be missed.
Anyway, back to the drink. The Rob Roy is pretty much a Manhattan made with Scotch. Now, most people wouldn’t consider messing with the king of cocktails, but this can be a very good drink. It was invented in 1894 at the Waldorf Astoria in Manhattan, and named after an operetta that had just opened.
I did find a reference that states the original recipe called for dry vermouth instead of sweet, although that is now known as a Dry Rob Roy. A Perfect Rob Roy divides the vermouth between both sweet and dry varieties.
There is also some disagreement on the garnish. Traditionally it is a cherry (or a couple on a pick) but some call for a twist of lemon or a twist or orange.
Rating: 4/5
Notes: Most recipes call for blended Scotch whisky, so I used Famous Grouse (my go-to for the Blood and Sand as well). I used Carpano Antica for my sweet vermouth, and as usual it helps if it is fresh (I buy it in 375ml bottles for that reason).
Gin and lemon meet again in the White Lady:
- 1.50 ounces gin
- 0.75 ounce Cointreau
- 0.75 ounce fresh lemon juice
Combine in an iced cocktail shaker. Shake, and strain into a cocktail glass.
I was first introduced to the White Lady through my friend Justin. When he was the cocktail chef at the Oakleaf, he would host “Throwback Thursdays” which would feature vintage cocktails. Each menu would have a theme, and I loved this one:
White Lady, get it? <snicker>
While I was drinking this, my friend Ben sent me a note that he was enjoying a Last Word. When I said I was having a White Lady, he replied “TMI”.
As I’ve mentioned many times, gin and lemon are just meant to be together, and there are a number of drinks that start with that and then add something else. Without straining my brain very much I can think of the Twentieth Century Cocktail, The Bebbo, The Blue Moon and the Aviation as all drinks in the same family of gin and lemon, but they all taste different due to that something extra.
I didn’t think the Cointreau really added much to this group of cocktails. I enjoyed the drink but it wasn’t something I would seek out.
The history of the White Lady is interesting, and many recipes call for egg white. I’m making these as close to Dr. Cocktail’s recipes as possible so I left it out, but maybe that would have added something to elevate this drink. Originally the gin was swapped for crème de menthe, which would have made this an odd cocktail indeed, but most people seemed to have settled on gin, lemon and Cointreau although there is a large discrepancy over proportions.
Rating: 3/5 – it’s a high 3 (gin and lemon) but considering the other alternatives that I’d rather drink, it is still a 3.
Notes: Justin used Tanqueray gin, but I’m not a fan, so I used Broker’s.
A confusing drink is The Gimlet:
- 2.5 ounces gin or vodka
- 0.5 ounce Rose’s Lime Juice Cordial
- 0.5 ounce fresh lime juice
Combine in an iced cocktail shaker. Shake and strain into a cocktail glass.
I say confusing, because in the Appendix to Dr. Cocktail’s book he says the Gimlet should consist of gin and Rose’s Lime Juice Cordial, but because it was too sweet, he combined the recipe with that of the Gin Rickey. But what part was Gimlet and what part was Rickey?
According to Wikipedia, one description for The Gimlet is “half gin and half Rose’s lime juice and nothing else”. I cross referenced it with the Death & Co. book, which lists the following for the Gimlet:
- 2.0 ounces Perry’s Tot Navy-Strength Gin
- 1.5 ounces Toby’s Lime Cordial
Shake the gin and lime cordial with ice, then strain into a double rocks glass over cracked ice. Garnish with a lime wedge.
Since Death & Co. is all about perfecting drinks, I wouldn’t expect them to use an off the shelf lime cordial, even if a specific brand is historically accurate. Toby’s Lime Cordial is made with equal parts lime juice and sugar (by weight) with lime zest added for “tanginess”. Mix it all together and let sit for a day or so. They also have a recipe for the Gin Rickey:
- 2.0 ounces Beefeater London Dry Gin
- 1.0 ounce lime juice
- 0.5 ounce simple syrup
- Club Soda
Short shake all the ingredients (except the club soda) with 3 ice cubes, then strain into a highball glass filled with ice cubes. Top with club soda. Garnish with a lime wedge.
From what I understand, the key ingredients of a Rickey are lime and soda water, so it looks like all the good Doctor did was substitute some of the sweetened lime cordial with pure lime juice. I also asked my friend Justin for his recipe for the Gimlet that he served at my last birthday party:
- 1.50 ounces Broker’s Gin
- 0.75 ounce lime juice
- 0.50 ounce simple syrup
Combine in an iced cocktail shaker. Shake and strain into a cocktail glass.
Note the lack of lime cordial, but since that is just sugar and lime, it seems pretty close.
Anyway, I made two versions of this: Dr. Cocktail’s way and Justin’s way. The latter was for Andrea, since I knew she had that drink at the party and liked it.
It is a very nice drink but I also liked mine – it actually wasn’t too sour and had a little more kick due to the extra gin. I think the added sweetness of the lime cordial would pair well with a navy-strength gin, so I’ll have to revisit this as the weather gets warmer and use the Death & Co. recipe.
Rating: 4/5
Notes: I’m not a big vodka drinker, but this drink should work with that spirit. I used Death’s Door gin for mine (kudos to Jono for introducing it to me) and Broker’s for Andrea’s drink per the instructions.
In honor of Cinco de Mayo, it’s The Original Margarita:
- 1.5 ounce blanco tequila
- 1.5 ounce Cointreau
- 1.5 ounce fresh lime juice
Shake in an iced cocktail shaker. Strain into a large cocktail glass, rim crusted with salt.
Since this recipe is from the appendix of Dr. Cocktail’s book, there are just recipes and almost no exposition, so I can’t add much to the history. This recipe is presented as the “original” Margarita and it is backed up by Wikipedia, which states it was invented in Mexico in October of 1941 and consisted of equal parts tequila, orange liqueur and lime, and was served with a salted rim. The idea of using sugar or salt on the rim of a cocktail glass goes all the way back to the Brandy Crusta.
Most modern versions of the drink use a greater ratio of tequila to the other ingredients. This is the one from Death & Co.:
- 2.00 ounces Siembra Azul Blanco Tequila
- 0.75 ounce Cointreau
- 1.00 ounce fresh lime juice
- 0.25 ounce agave nectar
Rim half of a double rocks glass with salt. Shake all the ingredients with the ice, then strain into the rimmed glass over ice cubes. Garnish with a lime wedge.
This first Margarita I made for this post was using the Doctor’s recipe. It was nice, but a tad too sour. For Andrea’s I added the agave nectar. Not only did it improve the drink, I liked the fact that both the nectar and the tequila come from the agave plant. I added a dash of nectar to mine as well.
I also served it over ice. Although I think it would work neat, I’ve always liked my Margaritas on the rocks.
Or frozen. While I wouldn’t ask for one now, a common method of serving Margaritas is blended with ice. I think it dilutes the drink too much, although I do remember a time my friends Nick, Nora and I spent the better part of a day at a Chi-Chi’s Restaurant “drinking a rainbow”. This was a series of seven pitchers of Margaritas, each a different color. We had the flavors strawberry, mango, top shelf (aged tequila), lime, Midori, Blue Curaçao, and raspberry. We were trying as closely as possible to match the “ROY G. BIV” of the color spectrum (yes, we’re geeks).
Needless to say, those drinks had little in common with the Original Margarita.
Rating: 5/5
Notes: Tequila comes in three main varieties: blanco, repasado and anejo. Blanco, or “white” is unaged, and is considered by some to be the purist form of tequila. For this drink I went in search of a good blanco option, as the spirits recommended by Death & Co. can be awfully obscure.
I found a nice article on a tasting of 18 blanco tequilas, and since you’ve heard me complain before about the antiquated liquor laws in North Carolina (where I live) I won’t whine here, but I was finally able to find number 8 on the list, Herradura Silver. It’s a really nice tequila and I look forward to using it in other drinks, although I must say I want some Calavera Blanco if just for the bottle.
Presenting the King of Cocktails, The Manhattan:
- 2.5 ounces rye or bourbon
- 1.0 ounce sweet vermouth
- 2 dashes Angostura Bitters
Combine in an iced mixing glass. Stir, and strain into a cocktail glass, or strain into fresh rocks in a rocks glass. Either way, garnish with a cherry or a twist, or both.
Okay, some people claim that the Martini is the King of Cocktails. They would be wrong.
The cocktail was invented in America, and thus the “King” should feature American whiskey. The original cocktail: spirits, water, sugar and bitters find its peak expression in the Manhattan. The whiskey, mellow with vermouth, is sweet enough not to require sugar, the water comes from the ice and the bitters top the whole thing off.
The Manhattan was invented around 1860-1870 and is named after the borough in New York City. It is simple, but there are probably as many ways to make it as there are people in that city.
Choice of whiskey, choice of vermouth and choice of bitters all play a role, as does how long it is stirred and what garnish is chosen. I tend to judge bartenders new to me on their ability to mix a Manhattan.
Purists will require Angostura bitters, and there was a bit of a panic in 2009 when the factory that makes them shut down. Luckily they are back now, but I also like to play with different aromatic bitters in this drink.
Rating: 5/5
Notes: The whiskey I used was 15 year old I.W. Harper. I.W. Harper is a historically important brand started by Isaac Wolfe Bernheim, who is said to have used “Harper” to make it more acceptable in the marketplace. Now owned by Diageo, the brand has been unavailable in the US for 20 years, but now it is back. I bought a bottle of the 86 proof limited edition 15 year old straight bourbon, and the moment I tasted it, it was all I could do not to stick a straw in the bottle and finish it off (I actually don’t drink very much but you can see how much of that rather recently purchased bottle is left).
The vermouth I used was Carpano Antica, bought in small bottles so that it is easier to keep fresh. You want really fresh vermouth for all drinks, but especially the Manhattan. I did use Angostura bitters, although I’ve been very pleased with other types of aromatic bitters as well. I used a Luxardo cherry as the garnish.
