tony montana

2 oz Pyrat Rum
3/4 oz Carpano Antica Sweet Vermouth
1 barspoon Benedictine
3 dash Orange Bitters

Stir with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry and an orange twist.

After leaving my second locale on my birthday bar crawl, I headed down Mass Ave and over the bridge into Cambridge. Once in the heart of Central Square, I considered my options. I was not sure if my birthday celebration state was proper for Rendezvous or Craigie on Main once the last of Clio's libations had entered my blood stream. I was tempted to visit Derric at Green Street and order a Peanut Malt Flip in order to get a laugh, but I figured that a small breather would be best. Therefore, I continued my walk from Commonwealth Ave all the way to Inman Square on the way home to Winter Hill. When I was passing by Trina's Starlite Lounge, I peeked in the window to the parlor and spotted Emma Hollander at the stick and a few open seats at the bar. At that point, I knew that I had found my third destination for my crawl, and I gave Andrea a call to invite her to join me (she had been working at the Boston Shaker all day).
The drink I chose was one that I had wanted to try ever since Lauren Clark wrote about it in DrinkBoston, namely the Tony Montana. Lauren wrote about it along side Eastern Standard's Frobisher on the trend of "bad guy"-named cocktails. Here, Al Pacino's character in Scarface is honored by way of a rum Preakness-style cocktail. The Tony Montana's aroma was strong with orange oil and hints of the Pyrat Rum poking through. The sip was an elegant balance of the richness of the rum and the complexity of the Carpano Antica and Benedictine. Indeed, this drink was a fine way to cap off my birthday bar crawl, and many thanks to the bartenders at Eastern Standard, Clio, and Trina's for making it all possible!

the simon

2 oz Rittenhouse 100 Rye
1/2 oz Averna
1/2 oz Lemon Juice
1/4 oz Cherry Heering
1 dash Fee's Aztec Chocolate Bitters

Shake with ice and strain into a coupe glass.

Still in the midst of my birthday bar crawl, I was just finishing my first drink at Clio, my second stop, when bartender Todd Maul handed me a coupe glass filled with reddish-brown contents. "The Simon," he explained, "It was named after a bar regular around town." Somewhere about this time, Eastern Standard bartender Nichole Lebedevitch joined me at the bar stool to my left. I am not sure whether free food was being brought out to us because it was my birthday or because Nicole is just that awesome and I happened to be sitting next to her. Unfortunately for me, Clio's food is mainly fish based, and fortunately for Nicole, she was sitting next to a vegetarian. At least, I had a tempting drink to make up for the food I was sliding over.
The Simon started with an aroma that swirled with rye whiskey and spiced cherry aromas. The taste was a lemon crispness that paired well with the Heering and Averna richness, and this was followed by the rye's strength on the swallow. Basically, the Simon was a bittered High Hat; however, it was a little less bright but more earthy than the High Hat.

I was only part way through my Simon when Todd presented me with a Diablo. The name of the drink certainly summed his generous intentions. After the Three to One, the Simon, and now the Diablo were drained, I paid my bill, bid my adieu, and headed out into the early evening summer heat. All I knew was that I did not want to get on the subway and deal with the construction and the shuttle bus, so I headed in the direction of the Mass Ave bridge on foot.

three to one

1 1/2 oz 110 Proof Old Raj Gin
3/4 oz Rothman and Winter Orchard Apricot
1/2 oz Lime Juice

Shake with ice and strain into a coupe glass.

As the Red Sox game was drifting into the later innings, I decided to leave Eastern Standard and make my way home or perhaps elsewhere. At that point, I just knew that I needed a change of venues. I also knew that I did not want to get on the subway and have to take the shuttle bus from Park Street to Kendall, so walking in the direction of Central Square seemed like a good idea. Once at the corner of Commonwealth and Mass Ave, I guided myself in the direction of Clio to see if Todd Maul was at the stick. While this move did not get me out of the Kenmore area for when the Red Sox game soon let out, I figured that Clio would not be influenced as much by the efflux.
Todd was indeed there although his new haircut coupled with his glasses threw me for a second; however, Todd's game was not thrown in the slightest, and he already had a drink idea for me the moment I sat down. The Three to One from Ted Haigh's book was what he proposed. I wondered for a second if the drink was the "Three-Two-One" which the recipe almost matches if the apricot liqueur was boosted a notch. Haigh cites the drink's origin as the Old Waldorf-Astoria Bar before Prohibition; furthermore, the name refers to a horse having 3:1 odds at the track. Todd was amazed at how overproof gin knocks back the sweetness of the drink. This was something that was discussed at the "At Full Sail: The History and Application of Spirits at Proof, Navy Strength, and Overproof" session at Tales of the Cocktail this year. Haigh described the spirit requirements as, "A powerful gin is needed to stand up to the rich-sweet flavor of apricot liqueur and the acid of the lime."

While Haigh calls for a 100 proof gin, Todd grabbed for the 110 proof Old Raj from Cadenhead. The Three to One greeted me with an apricot aroma accompanying a hint of lime. Perhaps a freshly cut lime wedge as Haigh's recipe calls for would have added this aroma, but generally wedges and wheels serve more as eye candy (or something to fiddle with to negligibly adjust the balance). I was impressed at how well the heat of the gin cut into the apricot and lime flavors. The overproof nature of the gin was not overwhelming after the dilution process during shaking, but the extra punch was definitely noted.

[blood and nog]

1 1/2 oz Kilkerran Scotch
1/2 oz Cherry Heering
1/2 oz Punt e Mes
1/4 oz Simple Syrup
1 dash Fee's Peach Bitters
1 Egg Yolk

Shake with ice and strain into a rocks glass filled with fresh ice. Garnish with grated nutmeg and straws.

For my second drink at Eastern Standard a week and a half ago (part of my birthday bar crawl), I challenged bartender Hugh Fiore to come up with a drink that paired Scotch with egg yolk. The idea came from a soundbite I overheard at Tales of the Cocktail about how umami can influence the flavor of Scotch; however, I did not hear the rest of how that Scotch-yolk pairing would work, so I decided to try it first hand. While egg yolk drinks are more traditionally associated with the winter, my curiosity knows no season.
Hugh described how one of Chicago's Violet Hour's drinks influenced him; that drink, the Golden Age, was a combination of rum, egg yolk, lemon juice, Cherry Heering, and lemon bitters. Hugh's drink lacked the citrus component of the Golden Age and instead seemed to have a Blood and Sand directionality to it. The drink started with a nutmeg-spiced nose. A light cherry flavor on the sip played with the complex Punt e Mes notes, while the Scotch came out the most on the swallow. The egg yolk contributed greatly and mellowed out the drink with a bounty of creamy notes. As the ice melted, the Scotch became rather prominent in the flavor profile.

Midway through my drink, bar manager Jackson Cannon came by to talk. When he asked what I was drinking, Jackson responded to my mention that Hugh's drink was "a Blood and Sand all nogged out" by commenting on how the egg yolk and orange juice would be playing similar roles here and in the Blood and Sand, respectively. Orange juice, unlike most citrus, is good for taming rougher flavors. A good example would be during Prohibition when rather horrid bathtub gin was common, and bartenders of the day developed drinks like the Orange Blossom (the original Gin'n'Juice) or called upon pre-Prohibition ones like the Bronx to mitigate the poor quality of the spirit. Of course, to one up the orange juice's effect in the Bronx, there is the orange juice and egg yolk-containing Bronx Golden that Green Street proudly keeps on their A-to-Z cocktail menu.

I am not sure what the punchline to the Scotch and egg yolk soundbite was, but perhaps it did not matter. Overall, I was quite pleased by the drink, although I would probably recommend a try more in the colder months to come. For my last drink at Eastern Standard that afternoon, I asked Hugh Fiore if they had Old Tom Gin at the bar and then requested his best Martinez to round out this portion of my afternoon.

[amor fati]

3/4 oz. J. Wray and Nephew rum
3/4 oz. Rothman and Winter Orchard Apricot
3/4 oz. lime juice
3/4 oz. ratafia des noyaux (housemade)

Shake with ice in a Parisian shaker, strain into a cocktail glass, letting the finer ice shards out so they form a slush on top of the drink.

My notes state that I tasted the cherry and apricot flavors at the same time, followed by the tartness of the lime, then finished with the distinctive J. Wray funkiness (aww, yeah). I quite enjoyed this extempore creation by Scott, which paired well with my dessert of cherry-rhubarb crostada.

I had barely been back for 48 hours from Tales of the Cocktail, and the rums were still calling out to me. Fred had emailed me earlier in the day, saying he was off to a cognac seminar in Westborough that evening to chase down some creme de noyau - noyau being one of the recurrent themes during our trip to Tales this year. This gave me a rare evening to myself to indulge in my favorite culinary (etc.) vices.

My boss, Adam, had headed over to Green Street to enjoy some dinner with his wife, and he'd invited me to catch up with him there after I closed up the Shaker. By the time I arrived, I'd managed to miss him, but I sat happily at the bar and ordered some tacos (one yucca, one duck) and the lobster gnocchi. On the opposite side of the taco menu was a selection of tequila cocktails, so I deferred my rum craving in favor of a Taxco (one of my favorite drinks). Though the bar was rather full, I felt comfortably anonymous. One straight week of being "on" is pretty rough for an introvert like me. That's why I like being surrounded by New Englanders, who know how to respect one's mental space. I tried to catch up on facebook and LJ on my iPhone as I ate, and soon my glass and plates were empty. Time for my other vices, rum being one of them. Funky rums were a sub-theme for my trip to Tales this year. French spirits and cocktails were the the other sub-theme. I wanted a cocktail to honor my extraordinary experiences at Tales (more on that below). So, where to indulge my fancy? As if there were any question.

Rendezvous' bar wasn't as full as Green Street's, but the few remaining seats were taken shortly after I arrived. Scott welcomed me back and poured me a glass of water. As usual, he waited for me to settle in a bit before asking me what I wanted to drink, though in this case I knew the instant I spotted the J. Wray. I had forgotten he had it, though of course it was the base spirit for the ratafia des noyaux. I patiently waited my turn and then gave my order. "You've got this?" I asked. As if there were any question.

The first day of Tales, I had still been bright-eyed and outgoing. A couple of tastings in, I spotted Wayne Curtis and Jeff Berry talking with another gentleman on the mezzanine at the conference hotel. I walked right over and introduced myself, saying to Wayne and Jeff that their books continued to sell very well at the Boston Shaker. I also told them about my dream that someday we would once again have authentic Old Medford rum on the market. Their eyes collectively widened - the third gentleman turned out to be famed rum collector Steve Remsberg. He asked me if I'd ever tasted a New England rum, and I sadly shook my head. And then he oh so casually mentioned that he might be having a tasting at his house at the end of Tales, and maybe an old New England rum would be on the docket. I walked away from that conversation with Steve's phone number and a small amount of amazement that I had the nerve to introduce myself in the first place. Over the next few days, we ran into Wayne several times, and he was careful to impress upon me the honor I had been accorded in being invited to Steve's tasting. But still I hesitated to call as my ingrained shyness took over. By the last day of Tales, my ability to socialize had dwindled to almost nothing, and I had gotten maybe 7 hours of sleep total over the past 2 nights. I wanted nothing more than to relax by the pool. Still, I knew it would be the height of foolishness to let this opportunity pass. So after settling into the hotel on our last night, I begged Fred to make the fateful phonecall for me. Steve was perfectly gracious and gave us his address and directions. I took a shower, put on my new favorite skirt, and headed down to the lobby to fetch a taxi. We were the first Tales stragglers to arrive, and Steve and his wife Cheryl made us feel right at home with a serving of the house rum punch. Soon Jeff, Wayne and his wife Louise, and a couple of others arrived. The relaxed atmosphere was the perfect way to unwind after a hectic week. Delicious food, good company. I noted the little plaque on the family room wall, about 3 or so feet from the floor, which indicated the water-line in the house from Katrina.

We all gathered around the bar as Steve brought out a bottle of Austin, Nichols & Co. Old New England Rum, distilled in Everett, MA and then aged 17 years in wood. I blushed crimson as Steve announced to the room that this would be the first rum we would be tasting, in honor of my presence, and in hopes that the style would someday soon be revived. I raised my glass to those assembled and sipped. I gave my first few impressions to Steve - almost like a combination of rum and whiskey. The first sip smelled and tasted very like bourbon. This rum had been bottled in bond and its heat left a waxy feeling on my lips. It was much drier than I had anticipated, with almost a sour cherry flavor. Wayne said it had probably been aged in whiskey barrels. As the rest of the crowd compared notes, I backed off to the side to savor and record. Dry, almost metallic, little to no caramel, stone fruit, ferric, like overcooked molasses. I frantically tried to capture in writing what I was tasting. I hadn't tasted anything quite like it, and Steve told me that this particular rum was characteristic of all the New England rums he's ever tasted. Other rums (pre-revolution Cuban, old London dock-aged Jamaican) were offered up for tasting, and out of politeness (and a sense of awe) I sampled a couple. But I hoarded the flavor of the old New England on my tongue, on the remote possibility that I might one day taste a modern version. I didn't want any other flavor memories to overwrite this experience before I had a chance to completely internalize it. As the evening wore down and folks began to gather to leave. Steve pulled me aside in the kitchen. He pulled out a little nip bottle, still sealed, and handed it to me with a twinkle in his eye: "For the cause." The label said Caldwell's Old Newburyport rum.

When I walked up to Wayne, Jeff, and Steve that first day, I had no idea how the idea of reviving the style would become reality. The evening of the tasting, Wayne said he had gotten an email that some Matt guy was working on it - already had a lead on a space for lease in Boston, currently wading through the permits. A web search the day after I got home revealed nothing about who this person might be. As I began to relax back into normal post-Tales life, I thought it was all some crazy dream. Then a couple of days ago, two guys walked into the Boston Shaker and asked to speak to Adam about making bitters. One of the guys mentioned wanting to know about some drink slut guy in Boston who was making bitters, and Adam pointed me out. He stuck out his hand and introduced himself as Matt. Old New England rum had once again found me.

[sieraad]

1 oz Bols Genever
1 oz Carpano Antica Sweet Vermouth
1 oz VEP Yellow Chartreuse
1/2 dash Fee's Whiskey Barrel Bitters

Stir with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Twist a lemon peel over the top and discard.

My birthday was on Saturday; however, Andrea was working at the Boston Shaker store all day. To bide my time until she got off, I decided that going to Eastern Standard was the perfect way to celebrate with an early afternoon cocktail. Andrea was smart and checked the Red Sox schedule and alerted me that there was a game that started around 4pm, so I held off on making the trip. My timing was decent as I arrived when the game was in the second inning and the bar staff at Eastern Standard had gotten a small breather from the pre-game rush. This window between the first and eighth or ninth inning of a home game is truly a sweet spot for visiting Eastern Standard. Although witnessing the transition when the game lets out and craft cocktail orders get overtaken by vodka soda ones is rather stunning.
I found a seat at the corner end of the long marble bar near bartender Josh Taylor's station. Josh had an idea for my first drink based on something Brandon had recently served him at No. 9 Park. This drink was a variation of a Bijou which swapped the original's gin and green Chartreuse for Genever and yellow Chartreuse. The drink started with a grand aroma that was full of malt, lemon oil, and yellow Chartreuse notes. The Genever's maltiness came across strongly on the slightly sweet sip and was chased by the Chartreuse botanicals on the swallow. Meanwhile, the sweet vermouth added an element of richness and color to the drink and served to bridge the gap between the spirit and the liqueur. The light cinnamon notes from the bitters began to build up and linger more with each successive sip; moreover, this mixed rather well with the Bols Genever wormwood-like note and the hint of chocolate from the Carpano Antica vermouth.

:: cognac blending seminar ::

After landing in Boston Monday night, within two hours we were already at another spirited event. Emily Stanley was hosting a Bols Genever night at the Highland Kitchen a few blocks away, and the dare to keep up the pace for one more night was strong. After sharing some stories with Bostonites who did not make the pilgrimage to New Orleans, I spotted Corey Bunnewith who had taken the same 6:50 am shuttle to the airport that morning! The topic of Crème de Noyau came up, and as I mentioned in one of the summary posts, getting a taste of the commercially produced stuff was unsuccessful this year at Tales (I did get to try an amazing homemade version though). When I mentioned that the Noyau de Poissy product was distributed by Preiss Imports, Corey replied that he was meeting his friend Gregory Fitch in a few minutes who worked for them. No more than five or ten minutes later, I met Greg and asked where I could buy the product. He stated that it unfortunately was not for sale in the area yet, but he thought that he should be able to get me a bottle.

A day and a half later on Wednesday afternoon, Greg sent me an email inviting me out to Westborough that evening to meet the distiller of Noyau de Poissy. The distiller was in the area doing a "Forgotten Cask" Cognac blending seminar where he would blend spirits from the 1890 to 1910. It sounded like an interesting proposition, and the rush hour drive to central Massachusetts was worth the chance of scoring a bottle of Noyau de Poissy. I had no clue what I was in store for.

The distiller was Alain Royer who I had just heard talk a few days before at the Armagnac seminar at Tales of the Cocktail. This blending class was not as open to the public as the Tales of the Cocktail one was, but it was an invite-only event for the Loch and K(e)y Society at Julio's Liquors. Usually, this private group is highly focused on whisk(e)y including trips to Kentucky to taste and chose Bourbon barrels for purchase and the like. This time, it was to have the honor of Alain Royer crafting a Cognac to their communal tastes, and two dozen participants enthusiastically showed up to participate.

The concept was that a barn full of forgotten casks of Cognacs from the late 19th and early 20th centuries had turned up. The Cognacs were from all across the region, and there was not enough of each vintage to put into big blends for the mass market. This is where Alain was brought into the project to use his superior skill in blending to allow the casks' contents to find their way into glasses somehow or other. Alain described his first moments in that barn as walking into a museum. He immediately began picking up demijohns and making an inventory.
An experience cellar master can taste the spirits and determine the general direction of a blend. About 70-80% of the formula is standardized and the rest is adaptation upon successive rounds of tasting. Some components are better for smelling and others for tasting. The concept of the base was then brought up; the base serves to tame these aromatic and flavor components into something more drinkable. While the these aroma and flavor Cognacs are often too potent to enjoy them on their own, the base is often too flat to be of much interest. Combined in the right formula, a synergy could be born.

For our blending exercise, there were three Cognacs -- one base and two aromatic or flavorful ones -- and we set about tasting them individually. This particular base was from 1902 after spending 35-40 years in a barrel, although it had been topped up over time until the late 1950s. When tasted straight, it was rather polished and not much of a conversation breaker. The second Cognac was from 1898. The tasting notes were that it was a warm, velvety spirit typical of turn of the century Cognacs and was filled with tangerine, plum, and Madeira touches. A little sure went a long way on the tongue. Indeed, it was too spicy to drink straight and was deemed a booster to add flavor to a blend. The third and final Cognac was from 1908 with an unknown number of years in oak casks; when a glass was swirled, the legs or tears fell down slowly which indicated a lot of concentration from aging. It was definitely the most funky of the three with descriptors of dampness, mushroom, fungal, caramel, and orange being mentioned. To the mouth, it was very spicy and acidic suggesting that the tannins were not in balance; however, it was seductive to the nose like a good Pinot Noir.

Royer began by filling his one liter graduated cylinder half way with the base. Since we already had a taste of this Cognac straight, he immediately added 200 mL of the second Cognac. After mixing the contents, the room was given a taste. Here, the nose gave most of the information and the mouth confirmed the flavor and the balance. With the addition, the blend went above the base and was given a push with the added richness of flavor. In fact, it had become better than either of the initial ingredients alone. The third pour was from the last Cognac. That 100 mL addition then donated flavors that resulted in a dark chocolate note with hints of mushroom and with less spice than the blend taste before.

What direction to take the last fifth of the batch? This is where Royer philosophized about the concept of contradiction and harmony. Blending was an art akin to balancing a teeter totter. To tame the blend, the room agreed with Alain that more base needed to be added which would cut down the proof and the concentration of harder spices on the mouth. The Cognac began to take a more plum and leathery taste to me. The consensus of the room was to add some more of the third spirit to bring back more of the aroma that was drowned out by the addition of more base. This brought the profile closer to where it was before. The aroma became a bit more floral and elegant with honeysuckle notes popping out at this stage.

With each successive addition of Cognac, we had a taste and the room was then voting on what the next 25 mL or 10 mL would be. The goal was to chase away the negative and bring back the positive in order to achieve the golden ratio. Somewhere around this point, I began to get skeptical and thought of it as an exercise of control in the creation of the final product more than a major change in it. A 10 mL addition was merely a percent of the total. This would seem like a lot if it was a novel constituent, but there was already well over a hundred milliliters of each component in there. I, however, was alone in this thought at my table, and perhaps the Society members had more refined noses and palates than I. It finally came down to the last 5 mL and the room could not come to a consensus. At this point, Alain divided up the blend in two bottles and added a bit more of the third Cognac (half or 2.5 mL was added) to one of them. After a four week maturation, the Society would have a chance to see which decision for this last step was the right one. Would a mere half percent difference in the contents of the final mix be discernible? Only time would tell.

Having been invited to the event without really understanding the big picture, I had to ask a few questions later about what was going on. In late August, there would be a taste of the mellowed blends, and the Society members would get to choose which one Alain should scale up and produce. This exclusive blend would yield around 36 bottles of Cognac, which after a month of aging would be ready for Christmas. The estimated cost for each bottle of "Forgotten Cask" was around $160.

Alas, there was no Crème de Noyau at the end of the rainbow, but the experience of watching a master blender at work was definitely an acceptable bait and switch.

start & finish

1 1/2 oz Averna
1/2 oz Lillet Blanc
1/2 oz Obsello Absinthe
1/2 oz Noilly Prat Dry Vermouth
2 dash Regan's Orange Bitters

Stir with ice and strain into a rocks glass filled with fresh ice. Garnish with an orange twist.

One of Andrea's projects at Tales of the Cocktail this year was to learn about old New England rum. Our interest stems from where we live in Somerville, MA, right next to the Medford border. A short distance from our house was a mighty rum distillery in Somerville and a rather famous one in Medford that were churning out a good amount of liquor before Prohibition. I know that Andrea has a keen interest in seeing rum being made again in the area, but she had no clue what the style actually tasted like. Eventually, she was referred to Steve Remsberg who invited us out to a private tasting of some vintage New England and other old styles of rum on Sunday evening. After a brief rest following the egg seminar, we headed out to grab a taxi.

Since Steve only lives a mile away from Cure, after the tasting, we decided to walk over to the bar and meet up with the last of the Boston folk who had not departed New Orleans already. In the middle of draining a complimentary cup of punch, I decided on Rhannon Enlil's Start & Finish cocktail off of the cocktail menu and asked bartender Nick to make me one.
The Start & Finish possessed a robust orange oil nose. On the sip, the Averna donated a richness at the beginning of the sip which paired nicely with hints of orange flavor, while on the swallow, the absinthe's anise notes captivated the senses. The drink was really mellow considering that there was a half ounce of absinthe; this speaks either to the Averna rounding out the drink or to Obsello being a softer style of absinthe.

After Cure, we caught a cab with Devin to go to the Monteleone's carousel bar for a few last revolutions. I ended up spending a good part of the night talking to Paul Clarke over a Vieux Carré and reflecting on how this Tales of the Cocktail had panned out. Soon, the carousel had stopped turning and we realized it was 2am. Our airport shuttle was departing at 6:50am and the realization that life was going to return back to normal all too suddenly and harshly had dawned upon me.

:: notes about eggs ::

On Sunday, after the New Amsterdam Next GINeration Cocktail Challenge, Andrea and I caught our last seminar at Tales of the Cocktail 2010, "The Eggpire Strikes Back," hosted by Timo Janse, Andrew Nicholls, and Henrik Hammer. The presentation covered everything from the historical and philosophical aspects of eggs to the practical ones suited to the bar. Eggs have been used in beverages and frozen desserts since 3000 B.C. and only recently have come under attack. Perhaps some of the fear of eggs has always existed, but these issues have become more to apparent in recent history. The presenters even spoke of the chemical egg white substitute called Mr. Frothy -- a few drops gave a foam, but when tasted neat, it had a horrible bitter flavor and an unattractive aroma. Before jumping into the more practical aspects, I need to pass on their recommendation to read On Food & Cooking by Harold McGee. My copy is coming via Amazon, so for now, I take their recommendation without question.

Do's and Don't Concerning Creamy Heads on Drinks:

• Fresh eggs work best.
• Refrigerate your eggs. Eggs age four times faster without refrigeration.
• Use only as needed and do not batch in advance.
• The more water, the more foam.
• Too much water, the less foam.
• The presence of acid increases the foam amount.
• It needs to be absolutely free of detergents.
• Pre-shaking with just the egg white helps to set up the foaming capabilities.
• Adding a balled up Hawthorne strainer coil can help to foam up the egg white in this pre-shake. Remove the coil before adding rest of ingredients and ice.

There was a bit about egg physiology and biochemistry that was quite interesting to me (I am a classically trained biologist), but to spare the details and get to the nitty-gritty of how this will effect your drinks, here are the pointers:

• Egg white serves to bind ingredients together, provides texture, donates an attractive layer of foam.
• Protein is bound up in knots in the egg white. Movement unwinds these knots and causes them to branch out. In this branching out process, one peptide chain will grab onto another and cause them to stick together. In this process, air can get trapped.
• It is possible to over do this "movement" step by over-agitating/over-shaking.
• Eggs can absorb flavors in the refrigerator. As an egg ages, it generates sulfur compounds, but the more complained about off-flavors are absorbed, especially those that come across as "wet dog" aromas.
• Use the egg's absorption of odors to your advantage. Store eggs in a sealed container with white or black truffles, lemon oil-soaked cloth, or other aromatics to give them a more pleasant smell instead.
• Store your eggs so that there is less movement. Fridge door (the traditional place refrigerator manufacturers put the egg drawer) are the worst since the constant opening and closing weakens the egg white.
• Egg white is filled with umami (the 5th taste after salty, sour, bitter, and sweet) and acts as a flavor enhancer.
• Different species of fowl provide different flavors. The diet of the bird will affect the flavor of the egg greatly. Yes, ostrich egg will work.
• To re-create historic egg yolk-containing pousse-cafés, like the Knickebein, quail egg is probably the most accurate today to replicate the chicken eggs of yore.

In terms of the health fears, it has been covered elsewhere in depth, but here are the highlights:

• Salmonella, if present, is exclusively on the outer shell.
• Frequency is one egg in every 20- to 40-thousand, or one egg per person every 84 years.
• It takes 3-5 weeks for this bacteria to develop so use fresh eggs.
• There is more risk if eggs are cracked and sit around before being used. This gives the bacteria time to grow in numbers (especially since the bacteria from the outside of the shell would come into contact with the energy-rich inside of the egg at this point). The danger is in the improper handling of food, not in the use of eggs per se.
• Salmonella targets the sick, pregnant, very elderly, and very young which are four groups who should not be drinking egg cocktails in the first place.
• Eggs have a lower incidence of Salmonella than lettuce (unsure if he meant bacteria in general or Salmonella specifically).
• 17.5% alcohol by volume kills Salmonella.