Let’s face it, mid-winter is almost upon us and there is not a ground hog is sight. It is getting downright tundra cold out there and Mother Nature is sure to unleash a deep freeze. Some say one should think of a warm place like a tropical island when winter’s freeze is cutting through your bones. Others hope a St. Bernard will come dashing around the bend with a neck barrel full of warming brandy. Well I like to imagine a warm place that combines the heat and brandy; I mentally revisit my annual mid-summer pilgrimage to sizzling hot New Orleans for Tales of the Cocktail where I order a Vieux Carré cocktail upon arrival at the Carousel Bar.

Le Vieux Carré (pronounced view-kar-ray) is the French term for “Old Square” and is another name for the Crescent City’s iconic French Quarter. Walter Bergeron, the head bartender at the Hotel Monteleone’s bar, created the drink in 1938 as homage to New Orleans’ most celebrated district. The Monteleone’s hotel bar would later become the Carousel Bar with its famous rotating bar. The Monteleone, one of the French Quarter’s grand hotels, is also fittingly Tales of the Cocktail central and the Vieux Carré is still served as the house cocktail.

The Vieux Carré cocktail is a perfect example of a well-balanced mix of diverse spirits and bitters. French cognac, American rye whisky, and Italian sweet vermouth share the stage as base spirits. The monastically produced Bénédictine liqueur brings sweetness to the drink to offset the boozy trifecta. The bitters round out the mixture by cutting the sweetness and bonding the spirits.

Classic Vieux Carré
¾ oz cognac
¾ oz rye whisky
¾ oz sweet vermouth
¼ oz Bénédictine
Dash of Peychaud’s bitters
Dash of Angostura bitters
Lemon peel

Tools: Mixing glass, bar spoon, Hawthorne strainer, jigger, Swiss peeler

Method: Combine bitters and liquors in a mixing glass, add ice and stir until well chilled. Strain into a double rocks glass over ice and garnish with a lemon peel.

Still not warm enough for you? Take the recipe above and head south of the Tropic of Cancer to Guyana, the land of many waters and home of Demerara rum. In a recent night on the town, I was lucky enough to encounter a marvelous rum version of the Vieux Carré while dining at New York’s legendary Monkey Bar. The origins of the rum variation are hazy like that night but one of my fellow diners did order one at Julie Reiner’s Flatiron Lounge and was so thrilled with the libation that he began to spread the gospel. I was sold after one sip. The Rum Vieux Carré I ordered at Monkey Bar was made with El Dorado 12 Year Old Demerara rum in lieu of cognac. All of the other ingredients: spirits, bitters, and proportions remained true to Bergeron’s original, however it was served up and not on the rocks which makes for an elegant presentation.

El Dorado translates to City of Gold in Spanish and this liquid gold is an underrated treasure. El Dorado 12 Year Old Rum is produced by Demerara Distillers and is composed of rum from nine different stills ranging from copper still, wooden Coffey, and double wooden pots. Once thoroughly blended, the rum is aged in old bourbon oak casks. The end product is the lovely amber colored aged rum with the flavor of honey, toffee, fruit, and spice taking center stage with dry and smooth finish.

I used Sazarac 6 Year-old Straight Rye Whisky (90 proof) and a subdued sweet vermouth like Dolin Rouge to keep the focus on the El Dorado. A bold vermouth such as Carpano Antica or Cocchi Vermouth di Torino may overwhelm the other base spirits. Sazarac’s peppery taste compliment El Dorado’s complex flavors and add extra punch to the drink. The lemon twist at the end adds the right amount of citrus oils and brings out some of the El Dorado’s fruit.

Rum Vieux Carré
¾ oz El Dorado 12 Year Old Rum
¾ oz Sazarac 6 Year Old Straight Rye whisky
¾ oz Dolin Rouge sweet vermouth
¼ oz Bénédictine liqueur
Dash of Peychaud’s bitters
Dash of Angostura bitters
Lemon peel

Tools: Mixing glass, bar spoon, julep strainer, jigger, Swiss peeler, Manhattan glass

Method: Combine bitters and liquors in a mixing glass, add ice and stir until well chilled. Strain the mixture into a frosted Manhattan glass and garnish with a lemon peel.

So when you are stuck out in the freezing cold this winter try to imagine that St. Bernard bringing you a barrel-aged Rum Vieux Carré and then get to a reputable cocktail bar and order one! Keep warm mes amis.

*Photo by Vanessa Bahmani. 

**Got a cocktail question? Reach Fredo on twitter @loungerati, email me at fredo(at)loungerati(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below!

***Fredo Ceraso is the editor-at-large of the lounge lifestyle blog Loungerati.com. He is head cocktailian and a co-producer of The Salon parties. Fredo is a member of the USBG New York chapter and rolls drinks at many Lounge, Swing, Jazz Age, & Burlesque events in New York City.

Before we had bars, we had places called taverns and saloons. And before we had Manhattans, Martinis, and other fancified cocktails, there was a drink which people simply referred to as a ‘whiskey cocktail.’

It was the early 19th century, and the term ‘cocktail’ referenced a simple drink composed of a spirit along with a bit of sugar, water, and bitters added to it; and all you had to do was specify your spirit of choice (assuming the establishment fancied such things as “choice”). So if you were a whiskey drinker you’d ask for a ‘whiskey cocktail,’ and you’d get a drink with a hefty dose of whiskey, a small cube of sugar to tame out its rough edges, just enough water to dilute the sugar, and a few dashes of bitters to bind everything together and remind you of the benefits of civil society. If ice was available, it was added to the mix for its well-known cooling effect.

Being the only game in town–at least as far as cocktails were concerned–it caught on like hotcakes and soon finer establishments like hotel bars began serving it. Since these places had access to exotic ingredients like citrus fruit, someone eventually got the bright idea of adding a twist of orange or lemon peel to it, which really elevated the drink with its aromatic oils.

Eventually the Industrial Revolution rolled in and brought with it advancements like refrigeration, which made ice available like it had never been before. Another thing that happened was we began getting all sorts of new ingredients over from Europe–things like Italian vermouth and Chartreuse–which opened the door for cocktail creativity like never before.

These conditions were like coal to a steam engine, kicking the cocktail craze into high gear as inventive barkeeps competed to concoct potions that would entice their customers and possibly get their names in the paper. This was the late 19th century, and it was the Golden Era of cocktails where men like “Professor” Jerry Thomas became veritable stars from behind the bar.

With the plethora of drinks now available, ‘whiskey cocktail’ was no longer a sufficient descriptor. To indicate you wanted an old fashioned whiskey cocktail, well, you now had to ask for an ‘old fashioned whiskey cocktail,’ and that’s how the Old Fashioned got its name. Change can surely be beneficial, and becoming officially canonized the Old Fashioned well.

Not all change was beneficial however. The Golden Era came to a crashing end in 1920 as Prohibition became the law of the land. If you were a bartender you were faced with the choice of changing careers or changing landscape. Those who had the talent fled to legally ply their trade in Cuba, Europe, or anywhere else that advertised itself as an ‘American style bar.’ Many others simply changed careers.

Secret speakeasies opened up across the land serving cheap rotgut liquor. But unlike the romantic lore of the seductive speakeasy, these places were not in business to serve you a fine cocktail. There was neither the ingredients nor the talent for such feats. The bartenders (if you could call them that) were really nothing more than low-level mob guys looking to move their way up the totem pole.

The problem was the swill they were serving was often too harsh to cram down ones throat, so talented or not, you needed to concoct something that helps get the stuff down. So they started mixing the liquor with all manner of juices and sugar and anything else they could do to tamp down the flavor of the turpentine-like fluid.

The Old Fashioned suffered perhaps the worst of these indignities, as people began muddling oranges and maraschino cherries into the drink and loading it up with club soda, turning it into a sickish sweet mush. Somehow even despite the end of Prohibition in 1933, this sacrilege version of an Old Fashioned has survived to become the version most people know to this day. Some of you may be reading this and thinking, “wait a minute, my grandfather drinks Old Fashioneds with the muddled fruit and he swears by them!” Well I hate to inform you pal, but your grandpa is a biotch.

Thankfully what was once a lost and forgotten cocktail has resurfaced over the last decade, as bars in big cities and bloggers have taken up the task of reintroducing this drink to the public. Here’s the original recipe:

Old Fashioned
2 oz whiskey (preferably rye but you can use bourbon)
1 sugar cube or tsp simple syrup
2-3 dashes Angostura bitters
orange, lemon, or grapefruit peel

Tools: muddler (if using sugar cube)
Glass: Old Fashioned glass (duh)

Place sugar or syrup in Old Fashioned glass and add the bitters. If using a sugar cube add a teaspoon of water and muddle it until partially dissolved. Add the whiskey along with ice (big solid chunks work better) and stir. Twist the citrus peel over the drink to release its oils and garnish it.

It doesn’t get any simpler than that, and once you’ll taste a properly made Old Fashioned you’ll hopefully never give another thought to muddling your fruit in it. Originally rye was used but you can use any whiskey you like, and truth be told you can even use rum, applejack, or any brown (oak-aged) spirit you like. Lastly, the citrus twist is not a mere garnish. It adds much to the drink and shouldn’t be neglected; you can use orange, lemon, grapefruit, or any combination thereof, as long as the peel is ripe with oils.

Now go make one for your grandpa!

*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!

“… just as there is no such thing as a 1/2-good girl there is no such animal as a 1/2-good drink.  A mixed drink is either made correctly out of correct stuff: good; or it’s La Bebida Piojosa (lousy drink). Even a homely gal can, with cunningly-employed paint, powder, patches, rouge-pots, whale-bone and falsies, fool part of the people part of the time; but a poorly-built drink betrays itself with the first sip. The only person our lazy drink-mixer is fooling is himself; he is a traitor to his art and there is no health in him.”
- Charles H. Baker

Amen. Charles Baker, who lived through Prohibition and wrote about his travels across the globe enjoying cocktails where it was still legal, lived long enough to see the slow erosion and near death of the cocktail culture he so colorfully celebrated in his writings. When he died in 1987 at the ripe age of 92, cocktail culture was in full cardiac arrest. Though he couldn’t have predicted its revival just over a decade later, his work was without a doubt instrumental to it. Having experienced American cocktail culture prior to, during, and after Prohibition, his writing is a rare glimpse into our lost identity.

In addition to contributing to Gourmet and Esquire, he published various books including The Gentleman’s Companion, a seminal piece in which he recounted his bibulous adventures around the world, complete with unique cocktail recipes and even more unique stories about them.

This week we celebrate one of those cocktails, Remember the Maine, one of my favorite wintertime potions. In terms of ingredients, it is a clear variation of the classic Manhattan, but Baker’s description of the cocktail takes us to an entirely different island (all emphasis is Baker’s own):

“REMEMBER the MAINE, a Hazy Memory of a Night in Havana during the Unpleasantnesses of 1933, when Each Swallow Was Punctuated with Bombs Going off on the Prado, or the Sound of 3″ Shells Being Fired at the Hotel NACIONAL, then Haven for Certain Anti-Revolutionary Officers.”

REMEMBER THE MAINE
2 oz. rye whiskey (Old Overholt’s the way to go)
3/4 oz. sweet vermouth
2 barspoons Cherry Heering
1/2 barspoon absinthe (its prominent aroma of fennel, anise, and mint make Vieux Carre a great choice if you can get it)
Brandied cherry as garnish

Tools: mixing glass, barspoon, strainer
Glass: chilled cocktail or coupe glass

Place ingredients in a mixing glass with plenty of cracked ice. Stir until well-chilled. Strain into glass and garnish with the brandied cherry.

If you recall from high school history class, “Remember the Maine!” was the  rallying cry of jingoistic Americans seeking to provoke war with the Spanish by falsely accusing them of blowing up the USS Maine. But Baker, rather than boring us with a history that we should already be familiar with (especially during his time), instead paints for us the scene of his own enjoyment of the cocktail. And he does this throughout the book. He brings the reader as close as possible to enjoying the cocktail without ever setting lips to glass. To Charles Baker, the cocktail was always an experience of the present, not the past.

How ironically fitting then that through the unearthing of his prose we learn to live as we should have all along. 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.

By Paystyle
Originally posted on October 2, 2009

Last week I had the distinct honor of being one of five NYC mixologists chosen by Gothamist for a special event involving three of my favorite entities: Scotch, cocktails, and Rachel Maddow. The event was held in the private Gonzo Room (named after the late great Hunter S. Thompson) of Aspen in the Flatiron, and our directive was to mix and serve Scotch cocktails for the guest of honor, Ms. Maddow.

For those who don’t know, in addition to hosting a show on MSNBC, Rachel is a connoisseur of classic cocktails–meaning among other things, she enjoys her Old Fashioneds the old fashioned way, sans muddled fruits. Also in case you didn’t know, she is as cool, humble, and flat-out nice a person as you’re likely to meet. Seriously, you’d wish your best friend was this nice.

The premise of the event came from an interview of Ms. Maddow whereby she expressed an interest in exploring Scotch drinks beyond the common Blood and Sand Cocktail; so Gothamist rounded us up and challenged us to present other tasty ways of featuring Scotch in a cocktail. The Dalmore sponsored the event and was generous enough to provide us a wide array and seemingly endless supply of their fine Scotch. Yes, I was as happy as a kid in a liquor store that night.

The other mixologists that evening–a who’s who of mixological mastery to be sure–were Richard Boccato of Dutch Kills, Yael Vengroff of Pegu Club, Jennifer Nelson of Buttermilk Channel, and Jason Litrell of The Randolph. And though the event was billed as a contest, the vibe was less like a competition and more like a cross between a study group and a team relay. Once one of us made a drink, we’d pass it around, share thoughts, and help cleanup for the next person. I was completely humbled at the site of Richard Boccato offering to barback for the others anytime he wasn’t mixing a drink–the equivalent of Peyton Manning grabbing towels and water for the rest of the squad.

Above from left: Rachel Maddow, myself, and Richard Boccato

Before the night was over Rachel got in on the act as well, slipping behind the bar to flex a little mixological muscle. She held a cocktail clinic of her own, serving up various cocktails including one my wife really enjoyed, the Bamboo. In the spirit of teamwork she poured the ingredients and I did the honors of providing the hard shake. And it was quite an honor for all of us,to be sure. I mean, how often does a Rhodes Scholar go behind the bar to serve you cocktails?

For those of you who read Happy Hour regularly, you’ve already seen the successful use of Scotch in cocktails, namely the Bobby Burns and the Cameron’s Kick Cocktail. Below are the recipes for the cocktails featured that evening, including my offerings, the Affinity Cocktail and Modern Cocktail No. 2.

Affinity Cocktail (above)
1 oz Dalmore Gran Reserva
1 oz dry vermouth
1 oz sweet vermouth
2 dashes Bitter-Truth Jerry Thomas Bitters
Lemon twist

Stir well in a mixing glass with ice and strain into a chilled coupe. Squeeze lemon peel on top and garnish.

Modern Cocktail No. 2
1 oz Dalmore 15
1 1/2 oz Sloe gin
1 dash Orange bitters
1 dash Absinthe
1 dash house-made grenadine (don’t buy the crappy sugary Rose’s brand when it’s so easy to make your own)

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled coupe.

Scotch Zoom (Richard Boccato)
2 oz Scotch whisky (unspecified)
3/4 oz honey
3/4 oz cream

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled coupe.

Jack Ward (Yael Vengroff)
1 1/2 oz Dalmore 15
1/2 oz Bonded Applejack
1/2 oz fresh lemon juice
1/2 oz fresh orange juice
1/2 oz grenadine (I don’t need to repeat myself)
1/4 oz Benedictine
Absinthe to rinse glass

Shake with ice and strain into a cocktail glass that’s been rinsed with absinthe.

The Deather (Jennifer Nelson)
2 1/4 oz Dalmore 15
1/2 oz Lillet Blanc
2 dashes Highland Heather Bitters (can substitute with Peychaud’s)
Absinthe to rinse glass
sugar cube
lemon wedge

Muddle sugar cube and lemon with the bitters. Combine with ice, Scotch, and Lillet. Strain into a cocktail glass that’s been rinsed with absinthe and garnish with a lemon twist.

The Scottish Rite (Jason Litrell)
2 oz Dalmore 15
1/2 oz Oloroso Drysack Sherry
1/2 oz sweet vermouth
2 dashes Bittermens Xocolatl Mole Bitters
1 dash Benedictine

Stir and strain over an old fashioned glass with a block of ice and garnished with an orange peel.

There you have it folks. An exhaustive list of libations to say the least, that should have you drinking well into the weekend. Speaking of the weekend (or any day of the week for that matter), please don’t forget to visit the fine folks above at their respected establishments. Tip them well when you do, and thank them for making cocktails worth drinking again, since not every city is this fortunate! Slainte!

Special thanks: Rachel Maddow, Jen Carlson at Gothamist, Eugene Smolenskiy, Laura Baddish, The Dalmore, and Richard Boccato (for simply being an indispensable source of cocktail knowledge and all-around nice guy; the man would literally give you the shirt off his back if you asked–so don’t ask!)

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

To heart shaped leaves, Winning personal bets, And faring as well as you this season!
– Graeme Robert Jamieson

An atmosphere of falling leaves, frosted breathe, houndstooth warmth, and hearty meals demands a cocktail that fits the mood. One’s cocktail should change with the seasons. This is really intuitive because similar to food, a cocktail for cooler months should leave the drinker with a feeling of warmth and hearty satisfaction. So shelve your Mojitos, Rickeys, Bucks, Juleps, and other summertime cocktails until the flowers’ next bloom, as autumn is a time for stiff drinks.

The Manhattan cocktail fits that bill. In addition to the classic cocktail pedigree, the drink embodies this time of year. The combination of American rye, sweet vermouth, and bitters is so simple yet delivers a complex taste and visually matches the foliage. The original version of the cocktail has been written about in depth. It is one of the classics, a minimum requirement for the cocktail savvy. So, I will focus on Manhattan’s derivatives, enhancements, and Brooklyn “cugini.”

There are many ways to enhance or improve the typical Manhattan. I enjoy rinses such as a single malt scotch (10 or 12 year Islay like Arbeg or Laphroig) to add smoky aromatics or Fernet Branca to bring extra herbal bitterness to the cocktail. These are just easy methods to amp up the typical recipe. Different types of bitters and a twist instead of a brandied cherry add to the flavor profile.

The best variation of the Manhattan that is being used as a veritable palette by mixologists is the Perfect Manhattan. In its basic form, the Perfect Manhattan is 2 oz of rye, ½ oz of sweet vermouth, ½ oz dry vermouth, 1 dash orange bitters, 1 dash aromatic bitters. Experimentation takes place on the vermouth side of the formula.

In the past five years, barkeepers have been tinkering with the traditional recipe, getting rid of the vermouths and substituting amaros, Chartreuse, maraschino, or another fortified wine like sherry. An elder Manhattan cousin, the Brooklyn Cocktail (which uses an orange flavored amaro called Amer Picon) is the original inspiration behind the proliferation of the Brooklyn “neighborhood” cocktails. I call them the cugini  (Italian translation for cousins) because amaros are the popular modifying spirit used to change the traditional Perfect Manhattan or Brooklyn Cocktail recipes.

The best of the cugini cocktails are the Red Hook (which uses Punt e Mes vermouth along with maraschino in lieu of dry vermouth), the Greenpoint (yellow Chartreuse in lieu of dry vermouth), and Bensonhurst (maraschino and Cynar in lieu of sweet vermouth).

So celebrate the Autumnal equinox with a stiff seasonal drink that is a tough enough drink worthy of their namesake neighborhoods.

The Greenpoint
By Michael McIlroy of Milk & Honey

2 oz Rittenhouse Bonded Rye
1/2 oz Yellow Chartreuse
1/2 oz Dolin sweet vermouth
Dash of orange bitters
Dash of Angostura bitters
Lemon peel garnish

Combine ingredients over ice, stir rigorously, and strain into cocktail glass, serve with lemon peel.

The Bensonhurst
By Chad Solomon formerly of Pegu Club
Pictured above

2 oz Rittenhouse Bonded Rye
1 oz Noilly Pratt dry vermouth
1/3 oz of Luxardo Maraschino
1 barspoon of Cynar

Combine ingredients over ice, stir rigorously, and strain into a chilled coupe glass. Lemon peel garnish is optional.

*Fredo Ceraso is the editor of the lounge lifestyle blog Loungerati. He is head cocktailian and a co-producer of The Salon parties. He is a member of the USBG New York and rolls drinks at many Lounge, Swing, Jazz Age, & Burlesque events in New York City.

**Got a cocktail question? Reach Fredo on twitter @loungerati, email me at fredo(at)loungerati(dot)com, or simply drop me a comment below!

***Paystyle will return in two weeks for his Happy Hour column and is delighted to have Fredo as a pinch hitter in the meantime.


For a long time I’ve been hounding my local wine merchant, T.B. Ackerson, to stock some vermouths in order to save me the constant pilgrimage to Manhattan’s Astor Wines, which is one of the few places that stocks a variety of quality vermouths–and I go through a fair amount of vermouth rather quickly.  My neighborhood is sort of up and coming (though it hasn’t completely up and came yet) so understandably they were hesitant to stock an item they didn’t consider popular among the residents in the neighborhood. I’ll just go ahead and say it, my neighborhood sucks when it comes to cocktail places.

So I was pleasantly surprised during a visit a few weeks ago to discover that my wine guy not only finally stocked vermouth, but decided to stock an obscure brand from Catalonia that  up until recently was unavailable in the U.S.  The brand is called Perucchi, and despite making vermouth in Spain since 1886, has been available in the states for less than a year.  Needless to say, I picked up both the offerings, a white and red, and trotted home eager to try my new find.

It’s not often that I do product reviews here, or dedicate an entire post to one product, as I like to leave that sort of thing to other bloggers–and there are plenty of them who do it well.  But an exception is merited here, first because the product is so good, and second because it’s so different from other vermouths.

My modus operandi for evaluating spirits (besides tasting it by itself) is to see how they perform in the cocktails that you’d quintessentially find them in.  So in the case of sweet vermouth, the Manhattan and the Negroni come to mind. For white vermouth, the Martini (gin, never vodka, though I shouldn’t have to mention this) is the standard bearer. But before I get into the cocktails, a few tasting notes are in order.

Normally white vermouth is referred to as dry vermouth, and red vermouth as sweet.  Well, normal is not how I would describe either the white or red Perucchi vermouths, and thus I won’t refer to them as dry and sweet vermouth, because neither fits neatly in either category.

Upon first blush, I was surprised to find that the white vermouth was not at all dry as I anticipated.  In fact, it was more like a cross between a dry vermouth and an aperitif wine like Lillet.  As a vermouth it more closely resembled a blanco style than the more common dry style of vermouth–a silky texture, golden-hue, more spicy and floral, less herbal.  Ginger and honey was immediately apparent on the palate, with slight traces of herb and orange blossom on the finish. I couldn’t wait for the Martini test.

The red vermouth was no less surprising–in fact, I won’t call the red vermouth a sweet vermouth either because the white was actually a bit sweeter.  The red tasted like a sweet vermouth-Campari hybrid–bittersweet, profoundly earthy, and slightly reminiscent of Dubonnet Rouge, with a tannic finish not unlike chewing on fresh tobacco leaves.  Manhattan here I come!

And now the cocktails which I consider essential to evaluating vermouths…

Martini Perucchi
3 oz gin (used Bluecoat)
1 oz Vermouth Perucchi white
2 dashes orange bitters (used Regan’s)
Lemon twist

In a mixing glass filled with ice, stir the ingredients until well-chilled and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist (works better than an olive here).

Imagine a Martini lightly kissed by lush fruit and laced with an essence of ginger, and you have a close approximation of this cocktail.  It’s great for introducing vodka drinkers to a real Martini (a Kangaroo cocktail, by the way, is the name for a so-called Vodkatini).  The flavor profile of the vermouth so nicely complements the botanicals in gin that it essentially acts as a stepping stone to finer drinking, ie, leaving the vodka behind.

Negroni Perfecto
1 oz gin (again, Bluecoat)
3/4 oz Vermouth Perucchi red
3/4 oz Vermouth Perucchi white
1/4 oz Campari
Flamed orange for garnish

In a mixing glass filled with ice, stir the ingredients until well-chilled and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Cut a piece of orange peel, warm it briefly with a match or lighter, then flame it by squeezing it over the drink while holding the lighter to it (may require a little practice). This should cause a brief flame burst which will caramelize the citrus oil as it falls into the drink.

In cocktail parlance, the term perfect refers to equal parts sweet and dry vermouths, or in this case, white and red vermouths. While a Negroni traditionally calls for 1 oz each of gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari, I’ve altered things a bit, to what I think is good effect.  The Perucchi red is already bitter, so I toned down the Campari and balanced it with a bit of the sweeter, honeyed notes of the Perucchi white.  Like the cocktail above it, it’s a good alternative to the standard Negroni, especially for those whose palates have not yet formed an embracing appreciation for Campari’s bitterness.  However, this is not a novice’s cocktail, as I believe it can really stand on its own as a veritable Negroni variant.

Manhattan Perfecto
2 oz rye whiskey (used Sazerac)
1/2 oz Vermouth Perucchi red
1/2 oz Vermouth Perucchi white
2 dashes orange bitters (used Bitter Truth)
Orange twist

In a mixing glass filled with ice, stir the ingredients until well-chilled and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange twist.

This is basically a Perfect Manhattan using the Perucchi.  If you like your Manhattans a little lighter bodied and less austere but still silky, this is for you. The two vermouths combine with the rye to create flavors reminiscent of Fall’s first maple sap.  It’s floral on the finish, likely the work of the white vermouth,  while the red vermouth provides a woodsy kick that nicely complements the rye’s spice.  This is an excellent way to switch up your Manhattan routine.

These vermouths are so unique that there are at least a dozen or so variations on the above three cocktails that you could do, that I simply could not cover. 

If you can get these vermouths at your neighborhood wine or liquor store, I urge you to do so.  If they don’t carry it, urge them to do so, incessantly until they do.  If you live in Brooklyn, I urge you to go to T.B. Ackerson and buy from them, so they can continue to stock it.

*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.

Buffalo Trace, Woodford Reserve and JD on tap. Life can be so sweet.

Kuma’s Corner. CHI.

So the Saints finally won a Super Bowl, and while many of you surely pounded Hurricanes to celebrate, here in the Eastern Seaboard, the weather conditions don’t quite call out for something so tropical.  In other words, there’s a blizzard happening right outside my door.  Of course when it comes to celebrating the storied American city, there’s a more appropriate and more distinctly New Orleans drink to be had than a Hurricane, and that is the Sazerac. In fact, I’ve heard it said that in New Orleans, tourists drink Hurricanes and locals drink Sazeracs.  So in honor of the Saints, that’s what we’re drinking tonight!

While the Sazerac is not the first cocktail ever created–despite the popular belief– its history and pedigree indubitably trace back to the origins of the American cocktail. And despite not technically being the first (folks had long been mixing sugar, spirit, water, and if available, some herbal elixir from the medicine cabinet), no other drink has so quintessentially represented this uniquely American invention which we call the cocktail.

Some time around the early to mid-19th century in New Orleans, a man by the name of Sewell Taylor sold his bar, which was so aptly named Merchants Exchange Coffee House, to a man by the name of Aaron Bird, who up until then was working there as a clerk.  He changed the name of the joint to Sazerac House after a popular brand of Cognac called Sazerac-de-Forge et Fils, and began hawking (sorry, I had to do it) a drink made from said Cognac, sugar, and a brand of bitters made by a local Apothecary owner, a French Creole man named Antoine Peychaud–the recipe for the Sazerac is attributed by many to Mr. Peychaud as well.  This drink became the bar’s specialty, and they were known to have as many as twelve bartenders on hand at any given time whipping up Sazeracs.

Eventually the place was sold to a man by the name of Thomas Handy, who changed the original recipe by replacing the Cognac with Pennsylvania Rye whiskey, and adding a “rinse” of Absinthe to the glass before pouring in the rest of the drink.  Although this wasn’t the original version of a Sazerac, you can’t really call it a modern iteration, since this version itself is over 140 years old.  And while purists may differ, many cocktail enthusiasts consider the version made with Rye superior, though I recommend you try both and decide for yourself.

Oh, and why did Mr. Handy change the base spirit from Cognac to Rye? Well according to cocktail historian Ted Haigh (aka Dr. Cocktail), around the 1870s (which happen to be around the time that Mr. Handy acquired the Sazerac House) a bug was causing havoc in the vineyards of Europe, and one such casualty was France’s Cognac industry, which noticed a sharp decline in production.  As Cognac became increasingly expensive and difficult to acquire in the states, Rye whiskey filled in, and as history has shown, it didn’t miss a beat.

Sazerac
2  1/2 oz Rye whiskey
2 dashes Peychaud’s bitters (remember him?)
1 small dash Angostura bitters
1 sugar cube
absinthe
lemon twist
couple of drops of water

Tools: spoon to stir and muddle with
Glass: two Old Fashioned or Sazerac glasses

Grab one of the glasses and drop in the sugar cube along with a couple drops of water. Break up the sugar cube and muddle to dissolve it. Pour in the Rye and the bitters along with some cracked ice and stir until well chilled, at least 20 seconds or so.  In the other glass, pour in about a teaspoon or so of Absinthe, then rotate the glass to coat the interior of the glass, and pour out the remainder.  Strain the stirred cocktail from the other glass into the one rinsed with Absinthe, twist the lemon peel over the drink, and enjoy!

Normally you’d do the mixing in a standard mixing glass, but for the Sazerac there’s a particular ritual to doing it this way—and it’s nothing more than ritual—so that’s the way we’ll do it here.

As far as the whiskey, let’s be clear that it asks for Rye—not Bourbon, Rye. Yes Bourbon is more readily available, but it produces a drink that’s far too sweet for this application.  You want the flavor of Rye in there.  As for which Rye, you can use a great yet economical one like Old Overholt, something with a bit more spice and just a few bucks more like Rittenhouse, or go all out (if you can find it) and get the Sazerac 18yr Rye Whiskey, which weighs in at around a hundred dollars a bottle, and in my opinion is one of the best whiskeys period (yes, even the Scotch folks are afraid of this one).  I use the Sazerac 18yr because I’m a pimp.  No, really, it’s that good, and smooth, and good.

Some people like to use simple syrup, but not me.  For one, there’s the ritual of muddling the sugar cube, which for some unknown reason I enjoy.  But second, and as a matter of function, I like the lack of uniform sweetness in drinks like the Sazerac and the Old Fashioned, and since the sugar cube never completely dissolves, it accomplishes that purpose for me.

To make the original version, simply swap in Cognac for Rye, and withhold the Absinthe and the Angostura.  Many like using a blend of both, and I encourage you to experiment with that as well.

Here’s to New Orleans!

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