swedish paralysis

1 1/2 oz Malört (Jeppson's Malort)
1 1/2 oz Orange Juice
1 1/2 oz Pineapple Juice
3/4 oz Lemon Juice
1/2 oz Orgeat
1/2 oz Cinnamon Syrup

Whip shake, pour into a Tiki mug, fill with crushed ice, and garnish with an edible flower.

After returning home from work two Tuesdays ago, I decided to riff on a drink instead of finding a new recipe at that hour. Actually, I first had opened up the Smuggler's Cove book in hopes of quickly finding a novel recpe and had spotted their Norwegian Paralysis that I had made prior. Their riff was an aquavit variation on the okelehao-based Polynesian Paralysis, and I had recently tinkered with an Italian amari direction in the Dolce Far Niente. To change things up, I opted for malört as the spirit and switched the demerara syrup to cinnamon to better complement the herbal liqueur, and I dubbed this one the Swedish Paralysis.
The Swedish Paralysis tingled the nose with pineapple, nutty, and cinnamon aromas underneath the floral notes. Next, a creamy orange and lemon sip led into the malört's wormwood-driven botanicals, the orgeat's nutty, and the syrup's cinnamon flavors with a pineapple and cinnamon finish.

cave creek

1 1/4 oz Rock & Rye (Hochstadter's Slow & Low)
1 oz Blended Scotch (Cutty Sark Prohibition)
3/4 oz Lemon Juice
1/2 oz Grenadine
1/4 oz Campari

Shake with ice, strain into a Collins glass with ice, top with soda water (2 oz), and garnish with a lemon twist.
For the cocktail hour two Mondays ago, I perused Carey Jones' Brooklyn Bartender until I came across the Cave Creek. That drink was a Whiskey Collins of sorts crafted by Nate Dumas at The Shanty, and it seemed like a good use for my bottle of Rock & Rye that had been untouched for a bit. Besides the sweetness in that whiskey cordial, the lemon juice was balanced by the Trader Vic-favored duo of Campari and grenadine. Once built, the Cave Creek met the senses with a bright lemon oil aroma over the whiskey notes. Next, a carbonated lemon and berry sip trickled into whiskey with a hint of peat smoke, orange, and berry flavors on the swallow.

port of innsmouth

2 oz Moderately Aged Rum (Plantation Original Dark)
1 oz Lime Juice
1/2 oz Dry Curaçao (Pierre Ferrand)
1/2 oz Cinnamon Syrup
1/2 oz Don's Spices #2 (1/4 oz Vanilla Syrup + 1/4 oz Hamilton's Allspice Dram)
2 dash Aromatic Bitters (Angostura)

Whip shake, pour into a large snifter glass (Tiki mug), fill with crushed ice, and garnish with mint sprigs.

Two Sundays ago, I turned to the Minimalist Tiki book by Matt Pietrek and Carrie Smith and spotted the Port of Innsmouth by Jason Alexander. As I mentioned in the Innsmouth Fog Cutter #2, Innsmouth is a fictional town in Massachusetts that was invented by horror writer H.P. Lovecraft for a 1936 story. Here, instead of a Fog Cutter, the drink that the Port of Innsmouth reminded me of was the Nui Nui. Jason utilized the curaçao for orange juice swap as I had done in my aperitif riff, the Maui Nui. Once prepared, the Port of Innsmouth donated a dark rum and cinnamon bouquet to the nose. Next, caramel, lime, and orange notes on the sip flowed into rum, cinnamon, allspice, and vanilla flavors on the swallow.

banana daiquri

1 1/2 oz Gold Puerto Rican Rum (Tommy Bahama Gold)
1/2 oz Lime Juice
1/2 oz Simple Syrup
1/2 Ripe Banana cut into slices
4 oz Crushed Ice

Blend until smooth (blend without ice to break up the banana and blend again with ice) and pour into a cocktail glass. Here, I made 1 1/2 times the recipe and split into two cocktail coupes.
Even before Giffard came out with Banane du Bresil, people made Banana Daiquiris but they used the fruit itself (although crème de banana was around as early as the 1930s as demonstrated in the 1937 Café Royal Cocktail Book with drinks like the Metropine, so who knows?). For a post-work drink two Saturdays ago, I decided to make Mariano Licudine's blender version that he crafted at the Mai-Kai in Fort Lauderdale circa 1971. Since I lacked a cocktail glass that would hold 8-9 ounces of liquid, I decided to make a batch and a half of the recipe from Jeff Berry's Remixed and split it into two coupes. Once prepared, the Banana Daiquiri smiled with a bouquet of banana and a hint of lime. Next, a creamy melonish sip led into rum and banana flavors on the swallow with a lime finish.

patois

1 1/2 oz Rhum Agricole Blanc (Clement)
1 oz Dry Vermouth (Noilly Prat)
1/4 oz Benedictine
1/4 oz Amer Picon (Torani Amer)

Stir with ice, strain into a cocktail coupe, and garnish with an orange twist.

Two Fridays ago after returning home from work, I was in the mood for rhum agricole but was too tired to search for a new recipe. Therefore, I became inspired by the flavors of the Creole Cocktail especially after tinkering with it to make it into a Floridita Daiquiri riff, the Creolita, a few weeks back. Here, I took things in a dry vermouth direction akin to the Georgetown Club that Charles H. Baker Jr. wrote about but with different rum and with the Benedictine-Picon duo instead of falernum. For a name, I dubbed this Creole meets a Martinique Martini the Patois which is "Antillean Creole spoken in Martinique with elements of Carib, English, and African languages."
The Patois awoke the senses with orange oil over grassy funk on the nose. Next, a crisp sip with hints of orange wandered into grassy funk and herbal orange on the swallow. The agricole, Benedictine, and orange liqueur combination did remind me a little of the 'Ti Punch riff, the Homere Punch. I later retried this drink with blanc vermouth, but the extra sweetness seemed to obscure the wonderful flavors of the rhum and other ingredients; perhaps splitting the vermouth might provide a more rounded drink, but I quite enjoyed it as it was the first time.

kingston soundsystem

1 1/2 oz Overproof Jamaican Rum (Rumfire)
1/2 oz Suze Gentian Liqueur
3/4 oz Soursop Juice
3/4 oz Lime Juice

Shake with ice, strain into a rocks glass with ice (pour into a rocks glass), and garnish with a dehydrated lime (lemon) wheel and a pineapple leaf (mint sprigs).

After work two Thursdays ago, I turned to my compiled list of drinks to make with the tropical juices that I had just bought, and I decided upon the Kingston Soundsystem calling for soursop. The recipe was crafted by Shannon Mustipher and published in her Tiki: Modern Tropical Drinks book, and it was inspired by the Jungle Bird but taken in an opposite direction. Here, an unaged rum was used instead of a dark one, an herbal gentian liqueur instead of bitter Campari, and softer soursop juice instead of pineapple.
This reggae-inspired number greeted the nose with melon blending into rum funk. Next, a melon and lime sip transitioned into funky rum and earthy herbal flavors on the swallow with a pineapple-like finish.

dubonnet frappe

1 1/2 oz Dubonnet Rouge
3/4 oz Jamaican Overproof White Rum (Wray & Nephew)
1/2 oz Grenadine
1/4 oz Banana Liqueur (Giffard)
1 tsp Sugar
1 1/2 cup Crushed Ice (12 oz) (*)

Blend until smooth, pour into a coupe glass (16 oz glass), and garnish with freshly grated orange peel.
(*) Not sure how a 16 oz build fits in a coupe (my largest coupe is around 7 oz). A 1/2 cup ice would fit in there but it would not be smooth, and splitting the whole build into two glasses would just be too little alcohol for a bar to serve.

Two Wednesdays ago, I was in the mood for a blender drink, and I remembered one in the PunchDrinks' Dubonnet-sponsored article. That libation was the Dubonnet Frappé crafted by Julia McKinley of Lost Lake in Chicago. Lost Lake has been publishing a variety of frappé recipes including Daiquiri and Harvey Wallbanger ones, and a frappé itself is a drink that is either blended in the Cuban tradition, poured over shaved ice which Trader Vic was fond of, or shaken and served with crushed ice. The Dubonnet Frappé here was McKinley's riff on the Ron Habañero Dubonnet Helado from the Cafe Plaza in Maracaibo, Venezuela, that Charles H. Baker Jr. published in his 1951 The South American Gentleman's Companion. For her riff, she subbed Jamaican rum and banana liqueur for the original's Cuban rum and Maraschino.
The Dubonnet Frappé pleased the nose with orange and fruity aromas. Next, lime and cherry from the Dubonnet and perhaps the grenadine played in the frosty sip, and the swallow gave forth funky rum and banana flavors.

midnight stroll

1 1/2 oz Rye Whiskey (Rittenhouse)
3/4 oz Campari
1/2 oz Amaro Ramazzotti
1/4 oz Pierre Ferrand Dry Curaçao
1 dash Peychaud's Bitters

Build in a rocks glass, add ice, stir to mix and chill, and garnish with an orange twist.
Two Tuesdays ago, I was in the mood for a digestif and remembered a drink that I had noted in SeriousEats called the Midnight Stroll. The recipe was a Boulevardier riff invented by Brandon Lockman of Red Star Tavern in Portland, Oregon. The Midnight Stroll took its first step with a bright orange oil aroma over rye and dark orange notes. Next, a caramel orange sip turned the corner into a rye, root beer, and bitter orange swallow. After enjoying this drink, I rediscovered a sparkling wine-lightened recipe that was pretty similar -- Joaquin Simo's Day Bell that he served to me at Tales of the Cocktail in 2010.

atherton

2 oz Appleton White Rum (Uruapan Charanda Blanco)
1 oz Pineapple Juice
3/4 oz Lime Juice
1/2 oz Honey Syrup

Whip shake, pour into a Tiki mug or double Old Fashioned glass (Tiki mug), and fill with crushed ice. Garnish with a pineapple wedge (chocolate mint sprigs).
Two Mondays ago, my copy of Justin Cristaldi's Tiki Triangle arrived; I learned about the book when Justin asked permission a few months ago to put my Nuclear Daiquiri gets the Mai Tai treatment, the Bikini Atoll, in its pages. The recipe that caught my eye as a starting place was the Atherton created by Tim Mayer of the exotica group Waitiki 7 after they played a gig at the Atherton Pavilion in Honolulu in 2008. Once crafted, the Atherton proffered an earthy rum funk and mint bouquet to the nose. Next, lime and honey on the sip played into earthy rum and pineapple on the swallow with a honey-tinged finish.