1 1/2 oz Plymouth Gin (Cold River) 3/4 oz Lillet Blanc (Cocchi Americano) 3/4 oz Green Chartresue 1 barspoon St. Germain (1/8 oz) 1 dash Regan's Orange Bitters
Stir with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange twist.
After the Zumbo, I started perusing the PDT Cocktail Book and spotted the Albert Mathieu. The drink was created by Eastern Standard's own Kevin Martin and we wondered for a second how this drink got there. Then we realize that this was part of the missing link! Back in 2008, there was a New York City-Boston bartender exchange organized by Philip Ward and subsidized by Rob Cooper of St. Germain in terms of travel and lodging expenses. While we lent out Kevin for a few days, we got a chance to taste New York by acquiring PDT's Daniel Eun for a three night stint at Eastern Standard. Both Andrea and I wrote about the drinks we had including their Dewey D, Mariner, and Number 8, and we quite enjoyed the experience of mixology travel without leaving the city. We never bothered to ask Kevin what he made; instead, we heard tales of what it was like to work with Kold-Draft Ice before the technology took off here and how New Yorkers prefer their drinks a bit stiffer and less diluted than imbibers do in Boston. The cocktail of Kevin's that got in the drink book perfectly symbolized the cross pollination. Albert Mathieu was a French mining engineer who in 1802 first proposed a tunnel to span the English Channel. While the idea which included horse-power, oil lamps, and the like was too daunting in the 19th century, the concept later came to fruition in 1994 when the Chunnel connected the two countries. Moreover, the combination of French and English ingredients in the recipe rounded out the affair.
The Albert Mathieu's nose presented an herbal burst from the Green Chartreuse that was brightened by the orange oils from the twist. While the sip was light, sweet, and citrussy, the swallow packed a potent combination of the gin and Green Chartreuse. Furthermore, the St. Germain's floral notes worked well with the Chartreuse at the end of the drink. Overall, the Albert Mathieu was akin to a gin instead of Bourbon Endeavor or a Lillet instead of sweet vermouth Bijou.
The euphemisms are getting a bit stale, suffice to say: four people in Boston -- two of whom are much more prolific writers than the other two (including the originator of this blog, who has no excuse apart from laziness) -- who drink and tell.