Mezcal review – Los Siete Misterios Doba-Yej.

Three (dead) amigos.

Mezcal Review – Los Siete Misterios Doba-Yej.

One of the main problems with mezcal is finding a good mixable one that doesn’t break the bank. The usual choice is the widely available Del Maguey VIDA but my long time favourite has been Los Siete Misterios Doba-Yej. It’s a bit of a mouthful but we can break it down a bit. The first part is the brand name (the seven mysteries) and they market a range of quality mezcals that are mostly in the €100+ range. Which we won’t be mixing with, will we? Good. However their entry level offering is a really good assertive mezcal that, at least in my neck of the woods, is affordable enough to mix with coming in at around the same price – or often a little less – than the ubiquitous VIDA. Doba-Yej is a local name for the most common form of agave – espadin – so it’s not quite as exotic as it sounds. If you’re new to the wonders of mezcal, the species of agave is to mezcal what grape varieties are to wine and espadin is the sauvignon blanc of the agave world. We really wouldn’t expect anything fancier at this price. I particularly like the eye-catching and slightly gnarly label designs and appreciate the simple bottles with a good wood-on-cork closure. But then things get complicated.

The Mezcal Lottery.

Now the really weird thing about this mezcal is that it changes from batch to batch with bottlings from different mezcaleros in different villages. Nuts heh? But really it shouldn’t be that surprising as this kind of mezcal is an extremely small scale (dare I say artisanal?) operation, usually involving no more than a handful of guys and a donkey. Los Siete Misterios are giving us access to that world at a fair price while making it a bit easier to track by changing the label with each bottling and printing plenty of information on the producers, methods batches and bottlings. Unfortunately this doesn’t help too much given that it’s often necessary to buy mezcal online as it’s not deeply stocked (if at all) by most European bottle shops. Some online sites are not yet very knowledgeable about mezcal (it’s still a pretty recent phenomenon outside of Mexico) and therefore are not that diligent at keeping the picture and data up to date. This makes Doba-Yej something of an interesting lottery but the good news is that even though there’s a lot of variation the contents of the bottle are mostly solid mezcals and good value.

I first discovered Doba-Yej in 2015 and it was love at first sniff but I noticed a big difference when the 2016 batch showed up. It had a powerful and slightly synthetic smell of pear drops and briny flavours that were up front and in your face and I was kind of disappointed by the lack of subtlety. All the stranger at the relatively low (for mezcal) strength of 42%. It was still a decent mixer but I was worried that the high tide mark for affordable mezcal had come and gone. While I’ve never sipped of the 2017 batch* I’m happy to report that the 2018 is much more to my liking. The nose is of dusty dry wood and the flavours are much more together and a lot less shouty even though it’s back up to 44% ABV. The smoke is there and there is a nice pepperiness too but all in a nicely rounded way. Sadly I didn’t keep any of the 2015 batch (although luckily I still had the empty bottle) as at that time I was unaware of the changing nature of this brand but my memory is that it was a very well integrated mezcal with decent smoke, fruit and brine flavours. I also note that production seems to be increasing with much larger batches (1200 bottles in ’15, 2003 in ’16 and 4500 in ’18) and the bottles no longer being individually hand signed and numbered. Mezcal is being changed by it’s own success but it’s reassuring to see that this isn’t always for the worse.

Now this has been a lot of waffle but I’m getting to the point now and that point is that Los Siete Misterios Doba-Yej is an interesting and affordable mixing mezcal if you’re the type that can embrace a bit of randomness. For now I’m happy to recommend the 2018 batch from lot DBY01/18 with the skeletal lady waving an agave bible in the air but if you come across any remaining bottles of the 2015 batch (skeletal pirate dude, 44.3%) snap them up immediately! I’d suggest passing on the 2016/17? batches (banner-carrying priesty-looking stiff) if you intend on sipping it but for mixing it’s still pretty acceptable. On the other hand you might be the type that values consistency over excitement in which case Del Maguey VIDA will never let you down.

For obvious reasons I can’t grade all batches** of Doba-Yej at once but the 2018 lady-Yej gets a well deserved:


*If there even was one; I’ve certainly seen no sign of any.

**I should also point out that it is at least possible that there are different batches within each year and labeling but in my (limited) experience there has been consistency within each year.

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Blood and Sand.

Thicker than water.

Blood and Sand.

There is perhaps no other member of the classic cocktail canon that gets as much hate as the Blood and Sand. And not entirely because of its unappealing name and muddy colour. People say it just doesn’t taste good enough to sit amongst classics like the Negroni, Daiquiri, Manhattan or Martini. I beg to differ. If properly made the B&S is deserving of such neighbours but the problem is, of course, that it’s rarely properly made these days. To be fair it is a difficult drink to balance but balance it we will, but first: The history. The Blood and Sand first reared its controversial head in Harry Craddock’s 1930 Savoy Cocktail Book and was named after a Rudoph Valentino silent movie from 1922 about bullfighting based on the novel by Vicente Blasco Ibáñez. And that’s all we know, other than that it’s been messing with bartenders’ heads for almost 90 years.

On paper it looks simple: equal parts of Scotch, orange juice, Cherry Heering and Italian (sweet) vermouth all shaken with ice and served “up”. What could possibly go wrong? Well, typical accusations are that it’s too sweet or that the vermouth and cherry brandy overpower the small portion of Scotch but mostly that orange juice just doesn’t belong in a drink like this. Indeed, it is a peculiar formula that fails to conform to any of the established drink families. As a result there have been many and varied attempts to “fix” the B&S but I’m convinced that it doesn’t really need fixing it just needs to be made very carefully and with special attention to the ingredients. My breakthrough came when I stopped worrying that the Scotch was being overpowered and just let the drink be what it wanted to be. Point one: Let the Scotch be a simple one, not too smoky or otherwise assertive. My mixing mainstay, Monkey Shoulder, works well as do some of the milder blends. Point two: Let the vermouth be Punt e Mes which is a bittered Italian vermouth which will keep the sweetness in check. Point three: Let the orange juice be squeezed seconds before mixing from a nice fresh orange. Strain it too as no further thickening is needed. Point four: Let the cherry brandy be Heering and no other brand. Because I said so. Point five: Shake this cocktail hard and long. Shake it until the shaker ices up. Shake it until your shoulder hurts. Shake it until your fingers go numb. Then shake it some more. Strain* it into a nice chilled champagne coupe and garnish with a nice plump maraschino cherry. Sip. Then, and only then, ask yourself, “Is this a drink that needs fixing?”

Blood and Sand.

0.75oz / 22ml Scotch (see text).

0.75oz / 22ml Italian vermouth (see text).

0.75oz / 22ml Orange juice (see text).

0.75oz / 22ml Cherry brandy (see text).

Shake hard (see text) and strain* into a chilled champagne coupe. Garnish with a maraschino cherry.

Toast Vicente Blasco Ibáñez  (1867 – 1928).

*Double strain it if you like but I’m a sucker for some micro-icebergs mingled with the slight foam (from the extra hard shake) on the surface.

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Black Manhattan + cocktail cherries.

Not exactly black but we’ll let it off just this once.

Black Manhattan.

A relative newcomer in Cocktailville, the Black Manhattan was created in 2008 by Todd Smith at Bourbon and Branch, San Francisco. A cocktail of quietly elegant simplicity it should be a breeze for any reasonably well stocked home cocktailista to prepare. Simply a modern twist on the classic Manhattan Todd’s black version subs Averna for the Italian (sweet) vermouth and adds a dash of orange bitters to the usual Angostura to tie it together. Averna is an Italian amaro from the island of Sicily that has an earthy bittersweet flavour and while not a million miles from an Italian vermouth has somewhat more depth and complexity. While the range of amari (because saying “amaro’s” would just be wrong) is quite wide there are a group of “typical” ones in the centre that have at least some degree of interchangeability. Of those that I’m on speaking terms with Averna, Ramazzotti and Lucano all make excellent Black Manhattans and while Averna is the original and probably most widely available I particularly enjoy Ramazzotti especially when paired with Rittenhouse rye. Since we’re making this as good as we possible can we need to talk about the classic garnish of every Manhattan, black or otherwise:

Cocktail cherries – the lowdown.

The bad, the good and the ultimate.

When I was young and foolish I used to think those bright neon red “maraschino” cocktail cherries were rather nice. Until I found out how they were made: Take some perfectly good cherries of any variety other than the actual Marasca variety and then bleach them in sulfur dioxide and calcium chloride. Once thoroughly bleached, soak them in disodium 6-hydroxy-5-[(2-methoxy-5-methyl-4-sulfonatophenyl) diazenyl] naphthalene-2-sulfonate and some other shit. No, really. I could go on but there’s surely no point other than to explain that there are better alternatives to the FAKE* maraschino cherry. While I have messed around with preserving cherries with some limited success I’m now convinced that the best policy is just to lay out some cash for the real deal. Luxardo, the Italian liqueur manufacturer, supply genuine Maraschino cherries and they are dark, plump, firm little globes of deliciosity. They’re pretty pricey though, especially the further from home they get. While the Luxardo cherries are definitely worth the money, those on a budget could do worse than the Amarena cherries jarred by Fabbri or Toschi** which are almost as good but are usually a bit cheaper – or at least you get more for the money as well as a much classier jar. The only downside is that, as you can see, they tend to be less regular in shape and a little smaller. Anyway, you’re tired of reading now so I’ll let you go away and make yourself a delicious:

Black Manhattan.

2oz / 60ml Bourbon or (preferably) rye whiskey.

1oz / 30ml Averna or a similar amaro (see text).

1 dash Angostura bitters.

1 dash orange bitters.

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled stem glass.

Garnish with a cocktail cherry. If a few drops of syrup from the jar fall into the glass that might not necessarily be a bad thing…

Toast Todd Smith – the Manhattanator.

[This is quite a strong cocktail, especially if using a higher proof whiskey. I have no problem with scaling it back to 1.5oz (45ml) and 0.75oz (22ml).]

*The USA dropped the first word of the original “imitation maraschino cherry” designation in 1940.

**Italian delicatessens can be a good source for these.

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Robert Capa + gastrique

Slightly out of focus?

Robert Capa.

Other than cocktails my interests include photography and history and all of those happen to converge in the person of Robert Capa, the godfather of modern photojournalism. Capa’s partial autobiography Slightly Out of Focus is a surprisingly amusing account of his experience of the Second World War in which alcoholic beverages serve as punctuation, starting with a Martini in the opening pages. Famous for always being with the first wave of advancing troops Capa wryly suggested that this was simply to get the first pick of any looted booze. Despite living a life that was beset with horror and tragedy he lived it to the full and with a wicked sense of humour. I can think of no-one more deserving of a cocktail named in their honour.

Capa was a Hungarian Jew who fled Fascism to Paris and then America and as such the cognac and Unicum components of this cocktail represent his journey – although if I’m totally honest I tried various versions and the cognac one was simply the tastiest. Hold up! Uniwha? Ah, sorry, my bad. Unicum is a wonderful Hungarian bitter that sits somewhere between Jägermeister and classic Italian amari such as as Averna or Ramazzotti. It has an almost perfect balance of bitterness and sweetness with hints of coffee and Fernet. It’s made by Zwack, comes it this superbly medicinal bottle flask, has roots back to 1790 and is one of the few bitter liqueurs to get much attention in older cocktail books. I loves it. I also loves that it’s only 14 notes for a 500ml bottle. The careful addition of it to what is otherwise a fairly simple sour creates a sort of genre-busting aromatic/sour hybrid that works very nicely if you are very careful with the sweet/sour/bitter balance. The sweet component can be simply a good home-made pomegranate grenadine but there is a way to take it to the next level if you don’t mind a bit of cookery. Still here? Great. We’re going to make a gastrique:

Gastrique (red wine/pomegranate).

Put in a saucepan 250ml (about one cup) of fine white sugar and add just enough water to make it damp. Heat it on a high heat while stirring until it melts and then starts to caramelise. I find a light golden colour to be optimal in this case but you could let it get darker if you like. Now add 250ml of decent red wine vinegar all at once. Be careful as it will spit and splutter a bit and caramel is very hot. At this point it may look pretty gnarly but don’t worry and just keep heating and stirring until and any chunks are re-incorporated and it looks smooth again. Now is the time to add your chosen flavouring, in this case 60ml/2oz of pomegranate molasses (sourced from any middle-eastern store). Stir in until smooth, let cool and put in a sterile bottle. It should have a thick syrupy consistency and will keep for many weeks in the fridge. Gastriques can also be made with other vinegars and flavourings. 

Trust me that it’s worth the extra effort to make some gastrique for your Robert Capa as you get a much greater depth of flavour than using grenadine alone. The man himself never spared any effort to get close enough to take some of the most dramatic photographs of the 20th century. His luck ultimately ran out when he stepped on a landmine in Indochina in 1954.   

There were actually a number of successful mid-century photographers with Hungarian roots and we may well be naming some variations of the Robert Capa after them in due course. As Capa himself once replied when asked what it takes to be a great photographer, “It’s not enough to have talent, you also have to be Hungarian.”

Robert Capa.

2oz / 60ml cognac (VS or VSOP, whatever you can liberate).

0.75oz / 22ml fresh lemon juice.

0.5oz / 15ml pomegranate gastrique* (see text)

2 teaspoons / 10ml Zwack Unicum.

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled champagne coupé. Garnish with a large orange twist – an essential flavour component in this drink.

Toast Robert Capa (aka André Freidmann) 1913 – 1954.

*You could get away with using a similar amount of home-made grenadine but you’ll be missing out on a whole extra layer of flavour complexity.


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Hip Flask Hack #1

Take it hip to hip rocking through the wilderness.

Hip Flask Hack #1

Hogmanay is imminent and if you’re going to be out on the randan for the bells you might want to take something in a hip flask to fortify yourself against the elephants. Scotch is a typical hip flask swally but let’s give it a bit of a boost with some warming additions. There are some evergreen favourites such as the Rusty Nail which is a combination of Scotch and Drambuie and the Whisky Mac but I prefer to go for this simple DIY infusion which is more vibrant and less cloying. Infusions are a lot easier than they sound and this one is a super simple overnighter that occupies the middle ground between a whisky liqueur, an Old Fashioned and a hot whisky without the heat. The resultant magical elixir is by no means a cocktail and thus has no name, story, or toast associated with it. Sorry Cindy.

Measure into a clean glass container (such as a jam jar or small mason jar) the amount of Scotch that will fill your hip flask – typically 6-8oz / 180-240ml. A decent blended Scotch such as Monkey Shoulder or Johnnie Walker Black make a good base but you just as easily use your favourite blend, single malt or, better still, a bit of your infinity bottle*. Cut a thumb sized chunk of fresh ginger into very thin slices (no need to peel it first) and add them to the whisky. Next take a nice fresh orange and cut a long spiral of peel, preferably using a channel knife (pictured) and then do the same with a lemon**. Add the peels to the mix along with two teaspoons of fine white sugar. Seal, shake until the sugar is dissolved and leave overnight. Next day, strain off the solids with a very fine strainer (or paper coffee filter) and add to your hip flask. Simples. You could just as easily use bourbon, cognac or even aged rum as a base and you can add some seasonal spices such as cinnamon, nutmeg or five-spice if that’s what floats your boat – just be aware that you might not get a lot of extraction from them in such a short time and you’ll need to strain through cloth or coffee filters.

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my regular readers.

Yuletide greetings and a Happy 2019 to both of you!

*Which is what’s in that innocuous looking Billy Lawson’s bottle.

**If you have any dried orange and/or lemon peel those will also work very nicely. I’ve tried it both ways and I have a slight preference for using dried peel in which case use 2 teaspoons of dried lemon peel and 1 teaspoon of dried bitter orange peel (or vice versa). Mrs Proof,  on the other hand, prefers it with fresh peel. What can you do?

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Park Avenue.

So good. I (should’ve) strained it twice.

Park Avenue.

If there’s one city that deserves the title Capital of Cocktails it’s the city that never sleeps, New Amsterdam, the melting pot, Gotham, the big appletini; New York City. Because of this there’s barely a part of NYC that doesn’t have a cocktail named after it. Usually that’s particular boroughs or neighbourhoods but this time we’re zooming in on a particular street. Park Avenue runs close to Central Park and is also home to the Waldorf Astoria (301), itself an important edifice in cocktail history. The Park Avenue is by no means a well known drink and is one of many resurrected by Ted Haigh in Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails. Not every recipe in the book is particularly accessible as there are many peculiar ingredients to navigate but the Park Avenue is both simple and rather tasty with one caveat: The original recipe felt just a bit out of balance to me. We certainly shouldn’t be afraid of modifying old school cocktails as there are perfectly good reasons that older recipes may need adjustment. Certain ingredients may have been reformulated over the years to be less or more sweet or may have become more or less flavourful. Fruit in particular has been continually bred to be sweeter and therefore it’s hard to know what 1940s pineapple juice tasted like – anyone who is old enough to have tried it being unlikely to still have enough marbles to remember. In this case the problem was that the vermouth was overpowering the pineapple and gin components and therefore I’ve taken the liberty of cutting the sweet vermouth by a quarter ounce and boosting the pineapple juice by the same amount. As a result we can taste each ingredient and balance is restored.

Park Avenue.

2oz / 60ml gin.

1oz / 30ml fresh pineapple juice (or at least unsweetened).

0.5oz / 15ml Italian/sweet vermouth.

2 teaspoons (10ml) dry curacao (other orange liqueurs would be fine).

Shake with ice and strain* into a chilled cocktail glass.

Toast the Capital of Cocktaildom – NYC.

*Although I forgot to for the picture, this is a cocktail which benefits from the extra smoothness of double straining.

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The State I am In.

I was puzzled by a dream.

The State I am In.

The serious cocktailist should take inspiration wherever it is to be found. A while a go I was listening to a track by Belle and Sebastian and took the line “When she saw the funny side, we introduced my child bride to whisky and gin*” as something of a challenge. Could whisky and gin co-exist in the same drink? Sounds crazy. Game on. Belle and Sebastian are a Scottish band named after a French novel so, to me, there had to be a mixture of Scottish and French ingredients. Our bases of whisky and gin are hardly a difficult task as the Highlands and Islands are replete with superb options in both (I went island for each of them) and fortuitously the French produce a vast and varied pantry of both bitter and sweet liqueurs that we can work with. First let’s deal with the base**.

As we’ve discussed split bases are an interesting and (mostly) recent development in cocktailia but surely whisky and gin is taking it a step to far? Well, I can report that if you are extremely careful with the balance they can complement each other quite well. The trick is not to let one overpower the other and that means the proportions should be adjusted for each gin/whisky combination. For example, if you have an aversion to smoky whisky and used a mild unpeated malt instead I would start with an ounce of each and fine tune from there.

As for our modifier and accent components we’ll take the gentian bitterness of Suze and the floral sweetness of St Germain which dance rather well together. We’re close now but not quite there. We might normally turn to bitters to bring it all together but the French and Scottish are not big bitters producers (OK, they’re not bitters producers at all). Yep, you’re right. A few drops of absinthe is in order here – if it was good enough for Don The Beachcomber it’s certainly good enough for us numpties. That it ties in with the original novel’s French Alpine setting does no harm either.

There’s no doubt that The State is an unusual drink with its slightly oily mouth-feel and subtle if slightly peculiar flavour combinations. Let’s just say it’s one for the more adventurous cocktail fan rather than the casual drinker. To me it’s at its best served very cold and if you make sure that the mixing glass and drinking glass are well chilled and stir for a little longer than usual you should be able to get it down to a bracing  -3°C or under. Don’t neglect the garnish on this one as a little lift from the lemon oil makes a significant difference. Get the most out of it by twisting over the glass and rubbing the peel around the rim. If you’re feeling sinister spray a little absinthe over the finished drink.

The State I am In.

1.5oz / 45ml Blackwood’s gin (or another quality Scottish gin).

0.5oz / 15ml Peated Scotch malt whisky (I used Finlaggan).

0.5oz / 15ml Suze.

0.5oz /15 ml St Germain elderflower liqueur.

6-8 drops of absinthe (J’adore Grande Absente 69).

Stir well in a well chilled mixing glass and strain into a well chilled Nick & Nora glass (you want this one cold and crispy with a fair amount of dilution).

Garnish with a twist of lemon peel. Optionally, spray some absinthe over the finished drink.

Toast Belle and Sebastian.

*Not recommended behaviour.

**How low can you go?
Death row? What a brother know
Once again, back is the incredible rhyme animal
The uncannable D, Public Enemy Number One
Five-O said, “Freeze!”—and I got numb
Can I tell ’em that I really never had a gun?


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Fully repaired!


While everyone has heard of the Manhattan it’s less well known that New York’s other four boroughs also have cocktails named after them*. Today let’s look at the Brooklyn – a drink with issues. The main components of the Brooklyn are rye whiskey (or very often bourbon) and dry vermouth with added dashes of Amer Picon and maraschino liqueur. Now, I know some of you are thinking “I know where you’re going here, this is all going to be about the difficulty of getting Amer Picon outside of France!” but a) I’ve covered that already and b) we have even bigger fish to fry with the Brooklyn. I’ve always found the Brooklyn a bit dodgy but mostly put that down to my ambivalence to dry vermouth. I can’t have been the only one who had problems with this drink as there are a whole host of other variations (mostly by NY bartenders associated with Milk & Honey) which are named after neighborhoods of Brooklyn (we’ll get to those some other time) which perhaps suggests some dissatisfaction with the “original” recipe. But recently I was reading an article on the excellent Cold Glass blog called In for Repairs: the Brooklyn Cocktail. While you should really read the article, Doug’s point is that the earliest known version of the drink by Jacob Grohusko in 1908 called for a sweet vermouth but this was erroneously changed to dry vermouth soon afterwards and has remained so ever since. A similar story to the Aviation then. After almost injuring myself in a mad dash for my mixing glass I was immediately in full agreement. History is also in agreement as rye and Italian vermouth were faaaaar more common ingredients in turn-of-the-century New York than bourbon and French vermouth. This repaired version, while similar to the Manhattan (well, duh!), has extra layers of complexity from the maraschino and Picon. While it’s tempting to fire some bitters at it, do be aware that Cold Glass has only done this to compensate for his lack of Amer Picon**.

My version varies slightly from the Cold Glass one because I am lucky enough to be in possession of actual Amer Picon (as well as my own version of Amer Boudreau) and because, as in the Manhattan, using Punt e Mes keeps the drink from being too sweet. For similar reasons I decided to stick with a lemon twist as garnish but the cherry version is certainly a viable alternative.

Brooklyn (repaired).

2oz / 60ml rye whiskey (Rittenhouse being a good choice).

0.75oz / 22ml Punt e Mes (a bittered sweet vermouth).

0.25oz / 7.5ml Luxardo maraschino liqueur.

0.25oz / 7.5ml Amer Picon (or Ramazzotti and 3 dashes of orange bitters).

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a twist of lemon or a cocktail cherry.

Toast Jacob and Doug the inventor (possibly) and savior (probably) of the Brooklyn.

*Someone recently rectified the long standing omission of poor old Staten Island but it’s got a lot of catching up to do.

**I’d fully agree that the simplest decent solution to a lack of Amer Picon is Ramazzotti with a few dashes of a good orange bitters such as Regan’s

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The Selkie’s Tears.

Somewhere, beyond the sea…

The Selkie’s Tears.

Look, we’ve known each other for quite a long time, right? Well, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s something I’ve been in self-denial about for many years and I only now feel able to talk about. I don’t like dry vermouth. Yes, I know you thought I liked every kind of booze and the Tiki Gods know I’ve tried to like dry vermouth but there we are. Phew. In a weird way I feel better now. It was trying to make this drink work that made me realise this terrible flaw in my palate. It seems to demand some dry vermouth to balance the sweetness of The King’s Ginger but, meh, then it tasted like some kind of broken Martini. Luckily I just love Lillet Blanc which, while technically doesn’t have the required bitterness, somehow works perfectly in The Selkie’s Tears. But then this also troubles me as I normally have a pretty good understanding of why a drink works and this time I’m at something of a loss. It just does. Maybe there’s just enough bitterness from the celery bitters and just enough saltiness leaching out of the samphire garnish. Of course I could just be wrong but to me this combination quite wonderful. It’s a fairly subtle affair that I think is letting each of the ingredients express themselves without stepping on each others’ toes. There’s no doubting that it’s very much a whisky drink so if you’re not a Scotch fan you might not want to go here, but if you are give this one a whirl. To be honest, this cocktail is, as yet, untested on any other human – although my Selkie friends seem to love it* – so I’d be more than happy to get some feedback.

The Selkie’s Tears.

1.5oz / 45ml Monkey Shoulder Scotch whisky.

0.75oz / 22ml Lillet Blanc.

0.5oz / 15ml The King’s Ginger (a Scotch based ginger/lemon liqueur).

2 or 3 dashes of Bitter Truth celery bitters.

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled Champagne coupé.

Garnish with a sprig of raw samphire.

Toast the Selkie folk who live amongst us but yearn for the sea.

Now I do understand that there are a couple of unusual ingredients here so let’s run through them all:

Monkey Shoulder. An excellent mixing Scotch that is a blend of malt whiskies. It’s affordable, available and gets an “A” in my book.

Lillet Blanc. A French aperitif with a slight lemony edge and a subtle but rounded bitterness. Essential ingredient in the Corpse Reviver #2 and the Vesper. Also tasty on its own with ice and a slice. Once opened keep refrigerated and/or vacuum stoppered.

The King’s Ginger. A 41%ABV Scotch based liqueur with ginger and lemon notes that claims to be ancient but I’m pretty sure isn’t. It’s none the worse for that though. Having said that it’s a bit tricksy to mix with and might best be used to add a bit of oomph to a dull blended whisky on a cold day.

Celery bitters. I used Bitter Truth ones which are quite delicious and are part of their handy traveler’s set which is an essential sampler for the bitters beginner.

Samphire. A salty, crunchy and super-tasty mini-vegetable that grows by the sea. Basically it’s vegan bacon. The fish section of supermarkets or your local fish shop probably stock it. The usual advice is to steam or boil it. Nonsense – it’s best raw. Any leftovers can be chopped up and used to spruce up a salad. Word is that it doesn’t freeze well.

*I think it’s the samphire they like.

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Jet Pilot (+ Test Pilot).

Puncheous pilot.

Jet Pilot.

When it comes to Tiki it’s safe to say that almost all the best drinks were created by three big names; Don the Beachcomber Ernest Raymond Beaumont Gantt, and Donn Beach. They were actually all the same guy but when you’ve dabbled in prohibition era rum smuggling it’s probably wise to have more than one name. Whatever you want to call him – let’s just go with DB – he was the undisputed godfather of Tiki, actually inventing whole new genres in both cocktails and dining. He might have been a great cocktail innovator but he was a far from brilliant businessman and many of his copy-cat competitors did much better than he did – Trader Vic (creator of the Mai Tai) being the most notable. Today we’re going to look at an imitation Beachcomber drink [gasp] which comes from one of Steve Crane’s lavish Tiki restaurants, the Beverly Hills Luau, and dates from the late 50s.

Don’s many competitors were desperate to serve drinks as good as his in their own faux-Polynesian restaurants (there is, after all, no copyright on cocktails) but DB was shrewd and kept his recipes a closely guarded secret. Competitors tried to get around this by stealing his bartenders only to discover that even they didn’t know the complete recipes as Don put key ingredients in plain bottles with enigmatic labels such as Don’s Mix and Spices #2*. The vast majority of their attempts were pale versions of DB’s rich complex “rum rhapsodies” but there is one marked exception that, in my humble opinion, rises above the original. The Jet Pilot is an attempted copy of DB’s 1941 Test Pilot** which was a pretty decent drink but by no means one of his best. The reason the Jet Pilot succeeded while so many other copies failed is that the recipe shows a similar attention to detail that you see in original DB drinks, the considered mix of rums, drops of absinthe and dash of Angostura bitters being typical Beachcomber touches. We don’t know exactly who created the Jet Pilot for the Luau but I’d bet my last bottle of red label Lemon Hart 151 that he was trained by the Beachcomber himself.

The Jet Pilot bears more than a passing similarity to DB’s most famous creation, the Zombie, which we’ll have to address sooner or later. The problem is that you could write a book about the Zombie and all its variations. In fact someone has. My preferred Zombie recipe is a complex one so the Jet Pilot makes a better starting point for the Tiki newcomer. While you could consider it a Zombie Light, do be aware that it still packs quite a punch.

Jet Pilot

1oz /30ml dark Jamaican rum (eg. Myers’s or Coruba).

0.75oz /22ml overproof Demerara rum (Plantation OFTD is probably your best bet here***).

0.75oz /22ml gold rum (take your pick but I like Coruba NPU in this).

0.5oz /15ml fresh lime juice.

0.5oz /15ml white grapefruit juice.

0.5oz /15ml cinnamon syrup.

0.5oz /15ml falernum.

6 drops of absinthe.

1 dash of Angostura bitters.

Briefly blend (a few short pulses) with a cupful of crushed ice. If lacking a blender add an ounce of soda water and shake hard with the crushed ice.

Pour unstrained into a DoF glass and garnish with something that looks vaguely like a jet plane.

Toast Steve Crane, whose Luau restaurant pulled off the best imitation Beachcomber recipe ever.

Yes, yes, alright. I know you want the original Beachcomber version too:

Test Pilot

1.5oz/45ml dark Jamaican rum (eg. Myers’s or Coruba).

0.75oz/22ml white Spanish style rum (eg. Havana Club 3, Brugal).

0.5oz/15ml fresh lime juice.

0.5oz/15ml Cointreau.

0.5oz/15ml falernum.

6 drops of absinthe.

1 dash of Angostura bitters.

Mix as Jet Pilot.

*Most of his recipes remained secret until the late 1990s when they were painstakingly decrypted by Tiki archaeologist Jeff “Beachbum” Berry. As I’ve said many times before his book Beachbum Berry Remixed should be your Tiki starting point. The Jet Pilot appears in his follow-up Sippin’ Safari which goes into more detail on the history of Tiki.

**Not all Tiki drinks have tropical names. Those of the 1940s often have aviation related names followed by a space era fad in the 1950-60s.

***Originally Lemon Hart 151 but that can be very difficult to find. Hamilton 151 is a good substitution but is almost as difficult to find. If you’re in the UK Woods 100 navy rum will get you pretty close.

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