Tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo, and many of you will be sloshing down the compulsory Margaritas and tequila shots, which in no way would I want to stand in the way of. But if you’re an adventurous drinker like I am and want to try something new (but no less fitting of the festivities), you might be interested in the cocktail that follows.

The common misconception is that Cinco de Mayo is Mexican Independence Day–it is not. It’s a commemoration of the Mexican army’s defeat of Napoleon’s French forces in the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862. Cinco de Mayo is not widely celebrated throughout Mexico, except in the city of Puebla where the victorious battle took place. In the U.S., however, Cinco de Mayo parallels St. Patrick’s Day as a national excuse to get drunk, although in California and some of the Southwest states it has also become a celebration of Mexican heritage–in addition to an excuse to get drunk.

This week’s cocktail, the General Ignacio, is one I recently created. The name is significant for a couple reasons. First, it’s a small present for one of my dearest friends, Ignacio, who’s birthday is actually tomorrow. Tom Cruise may be born on the 4th of July, but that doesn’t top a Mexican born on Cinco de Mayo!

Secondly, the name is significant to Cinco de Mayo itself, because it was under the leadership of General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguin that the Mexican army defeated the French.

The ingredients in the cocktail are also inspired by the spirit of Cinco de Mayo. Chartreuse, an herbal liqueur made in France, and June, a liqueur made from grape vine flowers, also from France, join forces to topple the smoky full-flavored Mezcal. But despite being outnumbered by a half ounce, the Mexican spirit holds its own against the French liqueurs by enlisting the help of its reliable old pal from the citrus family. And although it might first appear that there’s a real battle taking place in the cocktail shaker, the ice convinces everyone to chill out, producing a surprisingly harmonious outcome despite seemingly competing elements.

General Ignacio
1 oz Del Maguey Mezcal Vida (hands down the best value in Mezcal)
3/4 oz Chartreuse
3/4 oz June Liqueur
3/4 oz fresh lemon juice
lemon peel

Tools: shaker, strainer
Glass: chilled coupe or cocktail glass

Place everything besides the lemon peel in a cocktail shaker with plenty of ice; shake hard until well-chilled; strain into a chilled cocktail glass; twist lemon peel over drink to release its oils then discard.

Happy Cinco de Mayo, and may fortune be with you in the Battle of the Hangover.

*Got a cocktail question? Hit me on twitter @paystyle, email me at payman(at)lifesacocktail(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below.

Last week I wrote about the Hot Buttered Rum, and how it’s a winter drink for when you’re feeling festive (and when you’ve planned far enough ahead of time and made the essential spiced rum batter). Now that we’re nearing the dead of winter, you may be interested in something more simple– a drink that doesn’t require much advanced preparation. For these moments, the Hot Toddy shines (and warms) like no other.

Technically speaking, a toddy is a category of drinks rather than a specific recipe and the Hot Toddy is simply, well, the hot version of a regular toddy. In the old days a tavern keeper would heat the drink by taking a hot metal poker from the fire and plunge it into the pot that contained the mixture. So yes, originally, in less frigid times toddies were served at room temperature except for the very rare instance when ice was handy (we’re talking about 18th century and prior).

The name of the drink comes from the term ‘toddy stick,’ which was the big wooden baton-like tool the barkeep would use to break up sugar, as well as muddle any spice and everything nice, and even crack ice, when it became a commonly used item. Sugar of course had to be broken up because during colonial times it came in hard loaves that needed to be chipped into smaller usable pieces. The luxury of nicely granulated sugar that we find in the stores today was not to be had back then.

Understanding the toddy as a category, or better yet a concept, will enable you to use its template as a base for creating something uniquely your own, simplifying (or complicating) it as you see fit. There is no universally recognized toddy recipe, yet all good toddies will have the same components: a base spirit (traditionally whiskey but any brown–i.e. oak-aged–spirit will do, with genever being the allowable exception); a sweetening agent (sugar, honey, whatever); a diluting agent (hot water, tea, cider); and lemon juice for a necessary acidic bump to bring all the flavors in balance. Beyond that you can muddle lemon or other citrus peels, add cinnamon sticks, cloves, nutmeg, black pepper, oregano– ok maybe we’re getting carried away now.

Below are two recipes that exemplify this approach. The first is a basic toddy that any tavern with the ability to boil water should be able to turn out, and the other is a Jasmine Toddy (pictured above) that’s a touch more complex but well worth it for the final product it yields.

Hot Toddy
1 oz whiskey
1 oz honey syrup (equal parts honey and water pre-diluted for easy mixing)
1/2 oz fresh lemon juice
boiling water (about 3-4 oz depending on glass size)

Pour the honey syrup, lemon juice, and whiskey in a heated hot toddy glass or mug and stir to dissolve. Top with boiling water and enjoy. If you choose to use straight undiluted honey, only use half the suggested amount.

Just as it’s important to pre-chill a glass when making a cold drink, it ‘s a good idea to pre-heat your glass when making  a hot one. You can do this by simply pouring boiling water in your glass and letting it sit until you get the rest of your ingredients together, then pouring it out once you’re ready to assemble the drink. And because the water (or other diluting agent) is the only hot element of this drink, I make sure it’s boiling (as opposed to just being hot) when I add it, otherwise the rest of the ingredients will quickly bring down the temperature, which would yield a Tepid Toddy, not a Hot Toddy.

Jasmine Toddy
1/2 oz Yamazaki 12 Yr
1/2 oz Rhum Barbancourt 4 Yr (or other lightly aged rhum agricole)
1 oz honey syrup
1/2 oz variegated pink lemon juice (just use regular lemon juice; I’m being fancy-schmancy cuz that’s what was in my CSA this week)
Fresh brewed jasmine green tea (approx 3-4 oz; Ahmad Tea makes a pretty good one)
half lemon wheel studded with 3 cloves

Pour the honey syrup, lemon juice, and spirits in a heated glass and stir to dissolve. Add the clove-studded lemon. Pour in the jasmine green tea and enjoy.

The floral nose and mildly sweet palate of the Yamazaki Japanese whisky makes it a great pairing with the lightly oaked yet still grassy undertone of the Haitian rum, and together provide a nice base of complexity and body despite the relatively low amount of liquor in the drink.

I used variegated pink lemons simply because I had them on hand, and aside from the aesthetically pleasing aspect of the pink lemons, they’re also a bit more tart and have a stronger flavor than their yellow cousins. But if I didn’t have them I’d just use regular lemons because there’s no sense in venturing back into the cold to track them down. That would certainly defeat the entire purpose of this enterprise.

You’ll notice that both toddy recipes adhere to a similar formula, and both check off the necessary components, yet they vary widely in flavor profile. That’s the beauty of a good hot toddy, because it’s made of stuff almost everyone either has in stock or can easily attain. If you don’t have whiskey you can use aged rum; if you don’t have honey you can use sugar; if you don’t have… you get the point.

Winter ain’t got nothin’ on you now kid!

*Got a cocktail question? Hit me on twitter @paystyle, email me at payman(at)lifesacocktail(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below!

Photo by Erin Gleeson.

Thanksgiving has long been the source of mixed emotions for me. On one hand it’s a day when I can unleash my monster appetite without abandon. I love to eat, and I love to eat well. Yet on the other hand I consider myself a person of conscience, and Thanksgiving is a yearly reminder of how much a particular group of people have sacrificed, usually by force (I’m speaking of Native Americans here), so that another group could thrive (I am, of course, referring to the European immigrants). In my younger years I felt a sense of guilt when celebrating the holiday, as if somehow I was compromising my principles.

Later in life I realized I wasn’t ever really compromising anything (other than my caloric intake limit) because I was never really celebrating Thanksgiving. Nobody in my family did. It’s not like we ever prayed or performed any pre-meal ritual to honor the day. That wasn’t ever my family’s style, and that’s something I’ve always been thankful for. Of course we served turkey along with many of the other obligatory Thanksgiving items, but even then it was usually a mashup with dishes found on a traditional Persian table. Rather than traditional stuffing for example, our turkey was stuffed with saffron-scented Persian rice and barberries.

Eventually I concluded that in my family Thanksgiving was simply an excuse for everyone to get together over great food, and I suspect that’s the case for many other families as well, especially families like mine whose members are predominantly first generation immigrants.

The immigrant perspective as it relates to Thanksgiving is an interesting one too because it’s the perspective that tells us everything we know about that so-called first Thanksgiving gathering at Plymouth. As the story goes, the Pilgrim immigrants were set to freeze their asses if not for the generosity of their native hosts who shared with them their bountiful harvest. And per that old axiom, the natives not only provided fish, but also taught the visitors how to fish so they could survive in this strange new world.

So at its most basic, the story of Thanksgiving is a lesson on how to be a great and generous host. And whether we’re talking about a bunch of family members coming over to your house or a bunch of poor families coming over to this country, the same lesson applies. Just be a good fucking host and stop whining about how somebody broke the gravy dish or drank too much wine.

So does all this have anything to do with cocktails? Well, a little. The stuff above is what’s been on my mind all week, so I channeled it into this week’s creation which I call Dolores’ Huerto, made with tequila, Chartreuse, lemon, ginger, and apple butter.

The name of this drink is a play on the name Dolores Huerta, a woman that’s been on the forefront of immigrant rights for over four decades. Along with Cesar Chavez she founded the United Farm Workers in the 1960s which helped propel the Chicano movement. The drink’s name literally translates to “Dolores’ Orchard,” (the word ‘huerto’ means orchard in Spanish) which is both a reference to the fruit fields where she led numerous strikes and the apple flavor found in the drink.

When I was coming up with this drink it was clear that tequila should be the base, because it represents the farm workers and immigrants who were the base of the UFW. But just as symbolically important as which ingredients I included is also which ingredient I didn’t include, grapes. “No uvas” or “no grapes” was the chief rallying cry of the great Delano grape strike and boycott of the late 1960s that first put the UFW on the map and helped the struggle of the farm workers gain national attention, and eventually won over Bobby Kennedy as their champion in Washington. For that reason I made sure there was nothing in the recipe related to grapes.

Dolores’ Huerto
1 1/2 oz tequila blanco
1/2 oz Green Chartreuse
1/2 oz fresh lemon juice
1/4 oz ginger syrup (see recipe near bottom of this post)
2 barspoons apple butter (about 2 tsp)
Apple slices for garnish (optional)

Tools: shaker, strainer
Glass: cocktail or coupe, chilled

Shake all ingredients fervently as if you’re shaking your fist at the man. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Here’s to being a great host. Cheers!

*Got a cocktail question? Hit me on twitter @paystyle, email me at payman(at)lifesacocktail(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below.

Sometimes I hear or read about something while going about my every day business and it inspires me to hit my liquor cabinet and create something. Sometimes it’s the other way around, where I’m playing around with different spirits and ingredients and I come across a combination I really enjoy. In the case of the former, the final product practically names itself. In the case of the latter, christening the drink with a name often requires a creative process all its own.

Today’s drink, the Rikuo Cocktail, is an example of the latter process. It’s one I created several weeks ago, but couldn’t write about it until this week because until just a few days ago it was nameless. My research on the internet tells me “rikuo” is Japanese for “road king”. Consultation with a more reliable source on Japanese lexicon (our editor’s father, who is Japanese; and verified with Yoko) has indicated Rikuo translates to “land king.” But before I explain why I call it that (hint: it’s got nothing do do with this guy who also shares the name), let’s deal with the most important part, the recipe.

Rikuo Cocktail
1 1/2 oz VSOP Cognac
1/2 orgeat (used Trader Tiki brand)
1/2 oz fresh lemon juice
1/4 oz Campari
1 barspoon (approx tsp) A.B. Smeby Spiced Cranberry Bitters
lemon twist for garnish

Tools: shaker, strainer
Glass: chilled coupe or cocktail glass

Shake well with plenty of ice and strain into your glass. Cut a swath of lemon peel and twist it over the drink to release its oils, then garnish the drink with it.

As is often the case, I came up with this drink one night as I was playing around with ingredients that I chose almost randomly. I say almost because other than choosing a base spirit, a sweetener, and a citrus for acidic balance, there really was no rhyme or reason as to why I initially chose to play around with those precise ingredients, other than plain curiosity as to how they’d play together, and whether they even belonged in the same playground (there are some ingredient combinations that no matter how much one tinkers with the proportions, they just don’t play well together).

In this case it was instantly clear that with a bit of tweaking, the basic flavor profile could potentially lead to a really good cocktail. So after several attempts I decided the proportions above created the most balanced drink, and moved on to figure out what to call it.

So where does the name come from? Well, my mind continued to draw a blank for weeks. Then a few days ago as I was listening to the Nas song “No Idea’s Original,” a thought popped in my head: what if someone already made a drink like this? Although I was sure there wasn’t a drink exactly like this, at least nothing that I’ve come across, it did lead me to start thinking in terms of cocktail genealogy. Parsing out the DNA of the drink I’d made, I instantly saw shared traits between my drink and the classic Sidecar, which has Cognac and lemon juice. Then I remembered reading about an old Jerry Thomas creation with Cognac, orgeat, and bitters called the Japanese Cocktail, which many believe he named in honor of the first Japanese mission to America. It then dawned upon me that despite not intentionally trying to do so, I’d made a cocktail that was in many ways like an offspring of the two classics.

So there I had it, a Japanese Sidecar! Well, not so fast. I thought that name was too gimmicky, and what’s more, an insincere representation of the drink and the creative process behind it. It may be true that no idea is truly original, but it was also true that I wasn’t inspired by the Sidecar and the Japanese Cocktail when making this–at least not on a conscious level–so I wasn’t going to call it a Japanese Sidecar. Per se.

The name Japanese Sidecar did however remind me of something I read a few years ago about the first motorcycles manufactured in Japan in the 1930s, and how they were basically Harley-Davidsons, but were later produced under the name Rikuo once World War II threw a wrench in the whole US-Japan relations thing. A quick internet search revealed the Japanese bike, a bad ass one in particular, a gun metal black military sidecar model from 1943, and I knew I had found what I was looking for.

I admit the name Rikuo doesn’t roll off the tongue as well as Land King or King of the Land might, at least not for those of us who don’t speak Japanese. Despite that, I thought Rikuo as a name was a fitting tribute to both the Japanese Cocktail and the Sidecar, perhaps more so than Land King. Besides, the Japanese name seems more likely to spark a conversation between the drink’s maker and its imbiber, which is really the whole point of naming these creations in the first place, isn’t it?

Cheers!

*Got a cocktail question? Hit me on twitter @paystyle, email me at payman(at)lifesacocktail(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below.

New York has always been a great city, but this week its greatness gets bumped up a notch, as the first annual Manhattan Cocktail Classic rolls into town, along with some of the country’s best and brightest mixological minds.  Accurately described as “part fête, part conference, part cocktail party,” it will be a balls-to-the-wall 5-day orgy of all things related to the craft of the cocktail and the art of mixology.  Kicking off the entire affair will be the opening night Gala at the grand New York Public Library building at Bryant Park, where the price of admission gets you unlimited food and cocktails prepared by some of the city’s best chefs and mixologists–I’ve heard from more than one reliable source that Mario Batali himself will be preparing some delectables.  Whether you’re a professional in the industry, an amateur enthusiast, or just enjoy an awesomely prepared cocktail, New York City will be the place to be from May 14-18, if it already wasn’t before.

Of the multitude of events, however, there’s one in particular that I’d like to draw your attention to, called The Dizzy Fizz Tastemaker’s Punch taking place Monday May 17 at the breathtaking Ramscale Penthouse in the West Village. Myself, along with several other of the city’s tastemaking mixologists will prepare and serve various original mouthwatering punches (like the one featured today), while beautiful works of cocktail-related art are displayed on the walls from folks like saloon artist Jill DeGroff, graffiti artist/designer Claw Money, painter Nicole Desmond, and the amazing cocktail photography of Umamimart’s very own Vanessa Bahmani.  As far as things to do on a Monday night, I cannot think of anything better.

Ok now that the shameless self-promoting plugs are out of the way, we can move on to the week’s cocktail, which is one I’ve created specifically for the upcoming Tastemaker’s Punch event.  It’s a punch I’m rather excited about, because it employs rather exciting ingredients, two of which are on the cusp of hitting the markets nationally (fingers tightly crossed): Catdaddy Carolina Moonshine and A.B. Smeby’s Bitters.  The former is a lightly sweet and spiced corn whiskey that has pronounced cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla notes on the nose and palate (though they’re tightlipped about the exact ingredients they use); the latter is a local brand of artisinal and seasonal bitters made by the very unbitter Brooklynite Louis Smeby, whose bitters I’ve had the distinct privilege of experimenting with and featuring a couple of times over the past few weeks.

I call it Chinese Bootlegger Punch as a reference to the ingredients in the punch.  In addition to the corn whiskey (which is essentially a legal and more refined version of the illegal and often harsh moonshine made by Southern and Appalachian bootleggers) and Smeby’s Forbidden Bitters (notes of tonka bean and cassia), the punch features Chinese Oolong tea, cinnamon, grapefruit, lemon, and agave.  Since this event is part of the Manhattan Cocktail Classic, the name also serves as a shout out to the bootleggers in Chinatown whom I hold in the highest esteem, and without whom I’d not be able to afford the Panerai on my wrist nor watch bootleg movies before their release date.

Chinese Bootlegger Punch (serves 20, scale accordingly)
5 cups Catdaddy Carolina Moonshine
5 cups brewed Oolong tea (less than boiling water, steeped 5-6 min)
3.75 cups fresh grapefruit juice (big difference when you use fresh) 1.25 cups fresh lemon juice
1 cup agave nectar syrup
.75 cup A.B. Smeby Forbidden Bitters (if unavailable use Angostura)
.5 cup cinnamon syrup (Trader Tiki makes excellent brand)
Big block or two of ice (freeze water in the biggest tupperware you have; I’ve found that boiled water produces clearer ice than filtered)

Mix everything together in a punch bowl and refrigerate, preferably an hour or two in advance so that the flavors can mingle. Add the big blocks of ice–the bigger the better because they’ll melt slower–when ready to serve, and garnish with a few lemon slices.

Cheers, and please say a prayer for my liver this weekend.

*Got a cocktail question? Hit me on twitter @paystyle, email me at payman(at)lifesacocktail(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below.

It’s mid-January and by this point many of you are off to the races as far as your resolutions are concerned. You’ve detoxed, cleaned up your diet, and are hitting the gym as frequently as a Playboy bunny who’s about to be cut from the squad.

However if you’re like me, 2010 didn’t really start off with a sprint to the gym, but rather a slow crawl to the yack-box. In fact I’m already breaking a resolution to not blog at work. And if you really are like me, and you don’t care too much for colonics and kale and banana smoothies, but want to feel like you’re at least taking some steps in the right direction to renew and rejuvenate your body, then I have the perfect elixir for you.

It’s called The Detox, and with it’s potent yet tasty blend of vodka, lemon juice, honey, rosemary, and chiles, it’s sure to kill any toxins (even the good ones) living inside you, and it tastes good to boot. Best of all you won’t need a yoga mat nor a gym membership. All you’ll need are a few key ingredients and your trusty cocktail shaker–and how often has your shaker, under my steady guidance, steered you wrong? Riddle me that if you will.

The Detox
2 oz vodka (I used Martin Ryan)
1 oz fresh lemon juice
1 oz honey-rosemary syrup (see recipe near bottom of this post)
dash cayenne pepper
For the rim: cayenne, puebla chile powder, and date sugar (recipe below)

Glass: cocktail glass
Tools: shaker, strainer

Rub a lemon slice along the outer rim of the cocktail glass and dip it in the chile and date sugar mixture. Pour the other ingredients in a cocktail shaker filled with ice and shake until well chilled. Strain, enjoy, and repeat until your system is fully cleansed.

To make the rim mixture simply blend together 3-4 tbsp date sugar (found at most health food stores) with 1 tsp puebla chile powder and 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper. If you’re spice averse you can exclude the cayenne pepper on the rim, since there’ll already be a dash of it in the cocktail.

Although I am not a vodka hater, in the world of craft mixology vodka is often treated worse than a biracial illegitimate stepchild. However I chose vodka in this cocktail for many of the same reasons it is hated: its purity and lack of dominating flavor which enable it to act more as a blank canvass in a cocktail than as a flavor component. I used Martin Ryan vodka because unlike most vodkas which have their souls distilled out of them, this still retains a bit of the spirit and essence of its origin distillate base, Oregon grapes.

So who needs all those new age detox diets and such when you have so many cleansing botanicals in one cocktail, right? Here’s to a starting the year on a healthy note. Cheers!

*Got a cocktail question? Hit me on twitter @paystyle, email me at payman(at)lifesacocktail(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below!

**Paystyle was born in Tehran and grew up in Los Angeles (aka Tehrangeles) before moving to Brooklyn with his wife and co-pilot Vanessa Bahmani who provides the stunning photography of Pay’s cocktail concoctions. Return every Wednesday for his weekly Happy Hour column.

I made a boo-boo yesterday and opened up my Moroccan preserved lemons a week early. OOPS!!! I thought that it had been a month already, but apparently it’s only been three weeks. Oh well, I’m closing it up again and pretending I didn’t do that.

I did have a taste though and they’re a shockingly salty. Maybe I should lay off on the salt a bit next time? Or is it necessary for the preservation process? Also, I can’t seem to keep the lemons in tact- they fall apart when I’m squishing the salt and lemons in the jar. Is this not ok? I’m jarring some lemons again today.

Jud-san had saved an article on preserved lemons from the New York Times Magazine, published in 1999 and he scanned and emailed me a copy. Isn’t it amazing??? In the age of forwarding links from the I N T E R N E T, this is truly a prize- I love the yellowing, wrinkled paper, adorned with coffee spots and condiment spills. It has aged with such grace and kitchen devotion. How much more charming is this compared to the website version?

Priceless.

He recommends the swordfish and fettuccine recipes. I’m gonna try it all. It’s a Preserved-Lemon-Off!!!

Click on the above pics to enlarge.

Last week, while reminiscing about the various fun summer activities I engaged in as a child, I remembered a game some kids liked to play which I was not so fond of–Leap Frog. I remember lots of kids getting a huge thrill from the game, but never me. Frankly, the idea of kneeling down and having some kid jump over my shoulders from behind, with the inevitable and all too common risk of his crotch smacking the back of my head, well, let’s say it wasn’t something I was thrilled to be a part of. Equally unappealing was the idea of being the jumper and chancing either a mistimed jump or having the kid lift his head slightly too soon, so as to cause my crotch to crash full speed into the back of his dome–I’ll pass, thanks.

Now I’m an adult, and while I still have no love for the crotch-crash game (unless it’s of a different kind, if you know what I mean) there is a different version of Leap Frog that I’ve come to enjoy–a version which of course comes in liquid form. Leap Frog also happens to be a name for a fairly old yet simple drink comprised of gin, lemon juice, and ginger ale in a highball glass. It’s easy to make and quite on-the-money for those of you interested in putting in minimal labor during summer’s final moments.

For the sake of being thorough I should mention there’s another drink by the same name, but with completely different ingredients and definitely not as tasty as the first one mentioned. It’s essentially like a grenadine-spiked Hotel Nacional cocktail. I’m not posting the recipe because it’s just not that good (try the Hotel Nacional instead) but the recipe for this lesser version of the Leap Frog is at CocktailDB if you’re interested.

To add to the confusion I’ve discovered a third cocktail called Leap Frog, which is the one pictured above. This one’s the newest of them all and it comes from Jim Meehan of famed NYC speakeasy PDT. Although I haven’t been able to ask Jim about this, it seems his version is actually a cross between the two aforementioned versions, with some additions of his own–if you compare the recipes you’ll see the similarities. This one requires a tad more prep time but if you aren’t overly dreading the countdown to fall and can spare a few more minutes for the sake of mixological magnificence, I assure you this one’s worth every minute of your effort. But first the original.

Leap Frog
1 1/2 oz gin
1 oz fresh lemon juice
ginger ale to top

Tools: something to stir with

Glass: highball

Throw a few lumps of ice in the glass and add the gin and lemon juice; top with the ginger ale and give a brief stir.

The thing to remember about highballs is that their very simplicity is the reason you don’t want the flavors to mix too much. Instead, you want the taste to vary slightly with each sip, so a mere light stir is enough. Also, since highballs usually have a carbonated component, overstirring will allow too much carbonation to escape which produces a flatter tasting drink.

Leap Frog (pictured above, adapted from Jim Meehan of PDT)
2 oz gin
3/4 oz fresh lemon juice
1/2 oz apricot liqueur (used Rothman & Winter Orchard Apricot)
1/2 oz caster sugar
1/2 oz hot water
9 mint leaves
2 dashes orange bitters

Tools: muddler, shaker, strainer

Glass: cocktail

Pour the sugar and hot water in the shaker and stir until fully dissolved. Add the mint and lightly crush it with the muddler. Fill the shaker with ice, add remaining ingredients and shake like you got hit unexpectedly in the back of the head. Double strain into a cocktail glass and enjoy.

Double straining still leaves a few tiny mint pieces in the drink, which is actually what I wanted because they remind me of little lily pads. If you want a drink free of small floating mint pieces, use a tea strainer with smaller filter holes instead of a standard strainer.

How any of these drinks–perhaps with the exception of Meehan’s hybrid–came to be called Leap Frog is anyone’s guess, as I surely don’t know and haven’t been able to track down the answer. Perhaps a conversation with Meehan may reveal something I don’t.

Nonetheless the moral of the story should not go unheeded–don’t involve yourself in summertime activities that lead to crotches crashing in the back of other’s heads (or into your head for that matter, unless of course you’re into that sort of thing) thereby preventing bad summer memories. Instead, make cocktails that won’t unduly interfere with your noggin (except for inducing inebriation) and allow yourself to make it to next summer in one piece.

Cheers!

*Got a cocktail question? Hit me on twitter @paystyle, email me at payman(at)lifesacocktail(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below!

Paystyle was born in Tehran and grew up in Los Angeles (aka Tehrangeles) before moving to Brooklyn with his wife and co-pilot Vanessa Bahmani who provides the stunning photography of Pay’s cocktail concoctions. Return to UMAMIMART every Wednesday for his weekly Happy Hour column.

Today I’ll show you how to prepare four different flavored syrups: mixed berry, rambutan (cousin of lychee fruit), Meyer lemon, and honey (because it’s too easy to pass up, even though it’s not a fruit). I’ll also share a recipe for a refreshing spring-beckoning beverage that incorporates the Meyer lemon syrup. I’ll start with the honey syrup first because it’s so easy.

Honey Syrup
Dissolve an equal part of honey in an equal part of warm water. That’s it. You can keep it in the fridge, and it makes using honey in cocktails much easier than if you were to pour the honey straight into a shaker with ice.

Berry Simple Syrup (pictured below)
1.5 cups sugar
1 cup water
2 pints fresh or frozen mixed berries (I used frozen blend of blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries)

Combine sugar and water over low heat, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Turn heat up to medium (or med-high if using frozen berries) and add berries. Using a muddler or spoon, crush the berries to extract their juice. Turn heat to low and allow mixture to steep for 20 minutes. Next, press mixture through a fine-mesh sieve or strainer lined with cheesecloth. The point is to strain out as much of the seeds and solids as possible. Allow to cool, strain again if necessary, and pour syrup into a bottle.

You can add an ounce of vodka to fruit-based syrups to extend their shelf life, though I wouldn’t plan on keeping it around for more than a month anyways.

Rambutan Simple Syrup (above)
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
1 20 oz. can of rambutan (you can use fresh ones if you can find them, and if you’re a fan of arduous labor)

Combine sugar and water over medium heat, stirring until sugar is dissolved, then cool to room temperature. Pour entire contents of canned Rambutan (syrup included) into a blender along with the sugar syrup and puree until smooth. Press mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl. Discard solids and pour strained syrup mixture into a bottle and refrigerate. As with the berry syrup, you can add an ounce of vodka to extend the syrup’s shelf life.

I didn’t infuse the rambutan the same way as the berries because the rambutan has a subtle flavor which doesn’t impart as easily as the berries, so I blended it to really get its full flavor–which is also why I used the whole can along with its own syrup, to get as much of the fruit’s flavor as possible. That’s also the reason for the lower ratio of of sugar to water.

Meyer Lemon Syrup (above)
1.25 cups sugar
4 cups water
1 cup strained fresh Meyer lemon juice (it’s near the end of their season so get these while you can)

Combine sugar and water over medium heat, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Cool to room temperature, stir in lemon juice, cover and chill in refrigerator until cold. Keeps in fridge for a few weeks up to a month.

You may be wondering what gives with the totally different sugar to water ratio than all the other syrups I’ve shown you so far. This is simply because I’ll be primarily using this syrup as a base for a lemonade in which the syrup is the main component, so rather than adding more water later, I’m basically doing it now. It’s still very sweet and concentrated as a syrup should be, but not as concentrated as a traditional sour mix which would be more appropriate for cocktails. For a Meyer lemon-based sour mix, simply follow as directed above but instead use a ratio of 1.5 parts sugar, 1 part water, 2.5 parts Meyer lemon juice.

If you’re as ready for spring as I am, you’ll enjoy this next recipe which incorporates the Meyer lemon syrup and sparkling sake for an amazingly refreshing drink I call a Sparkling Sake Lemonade.

Sparkling Sake Lemonade
3/4 cup Meyer lemon syrup
Sparkling sake to fill (Trader Joe’s has an inexpensive variety appropriate for this drink)
Meyer lemon wedges
Ice

Glass: 24 oz. Mason jar (pictured above)

Fill jar with ice and lemon wedges. Pour in the Meyer lemon syrup and top off with sparkling sake. Give it a light stir and enjoy!

I used mason jars because I think they’re the perfect aesthetic complement to drinks like lemonade, but you can use any receptacle you wish, and simply adjust your ingredient ratios accordingly.

There you have it. Everything you ever wanted–and needed–to know about simple syrups. Of course I have cocktails planned for the other syrups I showed you today, but I’ll be sharing those with you later in the coming weeks.

Remember, you can infuse virtually anything, as I’ve practically demonstrated. I have plenty of syrups on hand now, but once I run through these I’m thinking about making some saffron or hibiscus flavored syrup for my next batch. I’m interested in hearing your novel ideas as well. See you next week. Cheers!

Come back every Wednesday for Paystyle’s weekly Happy Hour column.

Photography by Vanessa Bahmani