carre reprise

1 oz Rittenhouse or Wild Turkey Rye (Rittenhouse Bonded)
1 oz Courvoisier Cognac (VS Grade)
1 oz Martini & Rossi Sweet Vermouth (Cocchi)
1/2 oz St. Germain (St. Elder)
1 dash Angostura Bitters
1 dash Peychaud's Bitters

Stir with ice, strain into a rocks glass with ice, and garnish with a lemon twist.
In searching for the La Bicyclette recipe, I uncovered other recipes amassed by Jamie Boudreau using elderflower liqueur. The one that called out to me was a Vieux Carré riff created for St. Germain's Rob Cooper at a Tales of the Cocktail event perhaps circa 2007 or 2008. The drink was the Carré Reprisé crafted by Brian Miller then of Death & Co., and it later appeared in the 2012 Mr. Boston: 75th Anniversary Edition cocktail book without any attribution. The Carré Reprisé not only won the competition that year, but it impressed us in the glass over a decade later. Here, it proffered a lemon oil and Cognac blending in with elderflower aromas on the nose. Next, grape and a citrussy orchard fruit note on the sip parlayed into rye, brandy, and floral flavors on the swallow with a bitter finish.

capricious

1 1/2 oz Gin (Beefeater)
1/2 oz St. Germain (St. Elder)
1/2 oz Dry Vermouth (Noilly Prat)
2 dash Peychaud's Bitters

Stir with ice, strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with a lemon twist.
Two Tuesdays ago, I chose the Food & Wine: Cocktails section of my library and pulled out the 2012 edition. In the Martini and riffs section curated by Eric Alperin of the Varnish, he presented his Capricious that he created for a St. Germain party at Tales of the Cocktail 2008. The combination reminded me of John Gertsen's Means of Preservation that utilized celery bitters instead of Peychaud's. Once prepared, the Capricious welcomed the nose with lemon, anise, and floral aromas. Next, a melon note with a hint of mango-peach on the sip turned towards juniper, cherry, anise, and grapefruit flavors on the swallow.

:: what covid and spirits collecting taught me about life ::

The Washington Post a few days ago had an article entitled, "Covid-19 makes us think about our mortality. Our brains aren't designed for that." This reminded me of the first few weeks of the pandemic quarantine where I noticed on social media that many people were tapping into their special bottle reserves. Personally, I too went deep into my spirits reserves and drank things such as pours of Booker's Bourbon bottled in 2007 and Daiquiris made with Plantation Panama 1997. We also tapped into our reserve beer cellar, but that was partially out of necessity for we ran out of regular beer (we were far from running out of regular spirits though). Thoughts began to drift through my head questioning my mortality and the reason for holding on to things of value. Some of those have great worth only to myself or a select few in the world, and without offspring to pass them on to, what was the point not to be enjoying them now? Alcohol collecting is one of the few hobbies where the appreciation of your collection leads to its diminishment and demise.

The article in The Washington Post described how Covid induced grief, fear, and anxiety: "It is the existential anxiety caused by reminders of our own mortality." It continued on, "Simply put, to function as a conscious being, it's imperative that you be in denial about your impending death. How else would you go about the mundane aspects of your daily life — cleaning the gutters, paying the bills, sitting in traffic — if you were constantly aware of the inevitability of your own death?" "In other words, we are wired to accept that death happens — just not to us." The concept solidified my rationale as to why a faction of our country still refuses to accept pandemic safety measures — they are refusing to acknowledge the reality of their own death.

The phenomenon intrigued me enough that in early April, I reached out to a spirits collector or two and ask people on an industry group to email me if they wanted to answer a few questions. I narrowed it down to five:

1. Name, role in the spirits/bartending world, location?
2. What liquor/liqueur type(s) do you collect?
3. What have you learned about history through collecting spirits or a spirits line?
4. How often did you generally tap into your collection (pre-pandemic) to taste?
5. How has this pandemic changed the way you view collecting? Are there bottles that you have opened up recently that you might not have thought about before?

In the end, I received only a few responses. Some who answered were distant from their liquor shelves at that time, so there was not much data to glean. The rest seemed to gloss over questions 4 and 5 which were at the root of what I wanted to learn about. A good number who received the questionnaire never wrote back. I figured that it was too heavy of an issue to confront, and that perhaps I should have been more subtle in my line of questioning. Six months later, I finally got around to writing up my thoughts.

As the world began to equilibrate to a "new normal" as fear diminished, more sensible approaches to one's personal safety emerged. With that, I noticed that I recovered a more logical view to preserving my spirits collection. It still makes me wonder about how many things we put off since its not the right time. Whether it is drinking a special bottle of wine, beer, or spirits or going on a trip. There are certainly wrong times to open something special such as in inebriated or stressful points when the appreciation skills would be low, but waiting until the "right" life moments happen is putting too much symbolism into things. The pandemic also made me realize what it would be like to be old down to the inability to travel, dine out, or spend ones wealth. Why save things later in life when you cannot physically enjoy them or do them?

In 2010, when we attended an amazing rum tasting at famed collector Steve Remsberg's house, one thing struck me when we were tasting pre-Prohibition New England rums and pre-Fidel Castro Cuban ones. Here were these valuable bottles that Steve was willing to open, appreciate, and share (as long as he had an unopened one in his library for future generations). He saw no point in not experiencing his collection; however, to tone down the reverence and re-center the guests, he would humbly comment every so often, "Tastes good, doesn't it?"

berlioni

1 1/2 oz Tanqueray Gin (Tanqueray Malacca)
3/4 oz Cynar
1/2 oz Noilly Prat Dry Vermouth

Stir with ice, strain into a rocks glass with a large ice cube, and garnish with an orange twist.
Two Mondays ago, I returned to the PDT Cocktail Book and was lured in by the Berlioni that was sounded like a Cynar and dry vermouth riff on the Negroni. The recipe was crafted by Conçalo de Sousa Monteiro in 2004 at the Victoria Bar in Berlin after getting inspired by Chad Solomon's Bensonhurst. Once prepared, the Berlioni met the nose with orange, caramel, and pine aromas. Next, Cynar's caramel continued on into the sip, and this was followed by citrus, funky vegetal, and floral flavors on the swallow.

juan madera

1 1/4 oz Mezcal (Fidencio)
1 oz Sweet Vermouth
1/2 oz Lime Juice
1/4 oz Kümmel (Helbing)
1 dash Angostura Bitters

Shake with ice, strain into a cocktail coupe, and garnish with a cherry.

Two Sundays ago, I was flipping through William Boothby's 1934 World Drinks and How to Mix Them and I spotted the John Wood. I was intrigued but it seemed familiar; alas, I had made it over five years before, but the combination still caught my attention. Instead of continuing on in my literature search, I decided to riff on this obscure classic. The original was whisky and lemon; I opted for Scotch but Boothby grouped all Bourbons, ryes, and Scotches under the ingredient header "whisky," and the Savoy Cocktail Book had the John Wood as an Irish whiskey drink. Here, the kümmel made me think of mezcal for the liqueur pairs well with agave in drinks like the Island of Misfit Toys, Silver Surfer, and Mission Bell. I also changed the citrus to lime and dubbed this one the Juan Madera.
The Juan Madera met the nose with a smoke, agave, cumin, and cherry aroma. Next, grape and lime mingled on the sip akin to the Fig Leaf, and the swallow showcased the mezcal spiced by cumin, caraway, and clove rather well.

:: port light video! ::

As mentioned in a post a month ago, I filmed a video at the Boston Shaker Store utilizing Angel's Envy Bourbon (which I represent here in Boston) making the 1961 Port Light. All of the syrups, tools, and Tiki mugs that you need to make this drink can be found at the store (they ship as well!).



See the link above for more information. The modified recipe I used:

Port Light
2 oz Angel's Envy Bourbon
1 oz Lemon Juice
1/2 oz Yes Cocktail Co. Passion Fruit Syrup
1/2 oz Yes Cocktail Co. Grenadine
Whip shake with crushed ice, pour into a Tiki mug, and top with crushed ice. I garnished with a mint bouquet and freshly grated nutmeg.

why not

1 3/4 oz Evan Williams Black Label Bourbon (Old Grand-Dad Bonded)
1/2 oz Cointreau
1/2 oz Dark Maple Syrup
3/4 oz Lemon Juice

Shake with ice, strain into a double old fashioned glass with ice, and garnish with a lemon wheel and sage leaf.
Two Saturdays ago, I began perusing the Cocktail Codex book for the night's libation, and I stopped upon the Why Not. The recipe was Devon Tarby's 2017 Sidecar variation that paired orange liqueur with maple syrup that I only experienced together in the Dartmouth. Once prepared, the Why Not ventured to the nose with a lemon, sage, and orange aroma. Next, lemon and rich maple notes on the sip were answered by Bourbon and orange flavors on the swallow. Indeed, the maple syrup helped to bridge the gap between the whiskey and citrus elements in the mix.

better & better

1 1/2 oz Mezcal (Fidencio)
1/2 oz Smith & Cross Rum
1/4 oz Falernum (1/2 oz Velvet)

Build in a rocks glass, add a large ice cube, stir, and garnish with a lemon twist.
Two Fridays ago, I began Eric Alperin's Unvarnished book, and for a drink that night, I skipped ahead to the recipe section. There, I was drawn in by the simplicity of Jan Warren's Old Fashioned called Better & Better that utilized mezcal with some funky Jamaican rum as the spirit and countered it with falernum as both the sweetener and the spice. In the glass, the Better & Better donated a bright lemon oil over mezcal smoke and caramel-y rum funk on the nose. Next, a hint of caramel on the sip transferred to smoky vegetal mezcal, funky rum, lime, ginger, and clove flavors on the swallow.

zombie count

1 oz London Dry Gin (Beefeater)
1 oz Sweet Vermouth (Cocchi)
1 oz Campari
1/2 oz Lime Juice
1 oz Grapefruit Juice
1/2 oz Cinnamon Syrup
1/2 oz Grenadine
1 dash Absinthe (12 drop St. George)
1 dash Angostura Bitters

Whip shake, pour into a Zombie glass or Tiki mug, fill with crushed ice, and garnish with mint sprigs.

Two Thursdays ago, it was in the middle of Negroni Week, and I wondered if I could make an interesting mashup with the 1919 legend and a classic Tiki drink. The one that I selected was the 1934 Zombie which I had previously done in a stirred format (and no gin) with the Count Rides Again, but this concept was more citrus driven. To the Zombie recipe, I upped the grapefruit and cinnamon quotient for both pair rather elegantly with Campari such as in the Tasmanian Twister and Rum Firewalker, respectively. Moreover, I dropped the falernum for there were already enough spiced and herbal elements added to the mix. I also amped up the grenadine considerably for it has frequently been paired with Campari in modern Tiki drinks such as in the Freaky Tiki and in my Jungle Grog (one book referred to the flavor duo as "bittersweet").

For a name, it came down to Zombie Count and Count Zombie as a nod to Count Camillo Negroni, and the former won out. Once assembled, the Zombie Count lurched to the nose with a mint, berry, and pine bouquet. Next, berry, grapefruit, and lime notes attacked the sip, and the swallow bit in with gin, cinnamon, fruity, and spice flavors. Overall, the citrus combined with the grenadine, vermouth, and Campari in a complex fruit punch sort of way.