After the Gold Rush.

To a new home in the sun.

 

After the Gold Rush.

The Gold Rush is a delicious and simple cocktail of just Bourbon, lemon juice and honey syrup that has long been a go-to cocktail for me when I’m feeling a little lazy but I’ve felt for some time that it could use a little more flavour complexity. It’s always a bit of a risk messing with a rock solid drink but I think my little modifications keep the spirit of the original while elevating it enough to be worthwhile of a new name. Inspiration was delivered unto me by a couple of other classic whisky cocktails, the New York Sour and the Penicillin. The New York Sour shows us that a whisky sour can benefit from an injection of some more tannic notes, in its own case a red wine float, but in the After the Gold Rush I went for the wonderful Italian amaro that calls itself Cynar and floated it naught but threw it right in the shaker with the other ingredients. It was a welcome bonus that the Cynar made the drink even more golden than the Gold Rush itself. From the Penicillin I took the sweet component of half honey syrup and half ginger syrup simply because it is such a balanced and tasty combination and, even though it just the smallest of tweaks from the Gold Rush’s honey syrup, the extra warmth it brings is well worthwhile. Unlike the typical presentation of other three I decided I liked this one served up and the icing on the cake was to give a little bit of a foamy head. In this case I used a few dashes of Fee Foam* although you could use some egg white, aquafaba or other foaming agent. I felt I couldn’t take the name too far from its roots so I had little choice but to name it after a particularly whiney Neil Young song that I don’t even like very much. After all I did go to college with Neil Young. OK not that Neil Young but another one that a certain cheeky lecturer insisted on calling Goldrush.


After the Gold Rush.

2oz / 60ml Bourbon of choice (I used Buffalo Trace).

1oz / 30ml Fresh lemon juice.

0.25oz / 7.5ml ginger syrup.

0.25oz / 7.5ml honey syrup (3:1).

0.5oz / 15ml Cynar (or just a touch over if you like).

3 dashes of Fee Foam or a suitable amount of another foamer.

Shake hard with ice and strain into a chilled Champagne coupé.

Toast Neil Young.


 

*fi fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman**.

**Sorry, I can’t help myself sometimes.

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Hive Mind.

Where is my Mind?

 

Hive Mind.

A fair old whiley ago we talked about making some chipotle infused tequila for use in my very own Sun Stone. I don’t really like having ingredients that have just a single use so I feel it’s about time to do something more with our smoky, spicy tequila which you can read the instructions for making here. It’s worth noting that the prices for good quality, additive free, 100% agave tequila have gone through the roof since then so I’d add that if you’re strapped for cash you could just about get away with a less diligently made tequila or even decent mixto (to the very limited extent that such a thing exists).

The Hive Mind mitigates the spiciness of the chipotle with lemon juice and honey – a most soothing combination – and a touch of the marvellous amaro Montenegro which all good cocktailista should have in stock. While this combination will still give an exciting prickle on the lips and satisfying smoky warmth it still goes down smoothly and won’t give you any tummy troubles. The making of the chipotle tequila aside (which keeps pretty much indefinitely by the way) the Hive Mind is a simple shake-and-strain sour that craves no garnish and asks of no fancy techniques. It’s a bangin’ spring/summer drink that might be presented to guests when a Margarita seems just a touch to safe and predictable.


Hive Mind.

1.5oz / 45ml Chipotle infused tequila.

0.5oz / 15ml Amaro Montenegro.

10z / 30ml fresh lemon juice.

0.5oz / 15ml honey syrup (3:1).

Shake with ice and double strain into a chilled Champagne coupé.

Toast The Pixies (for no particular reason).


 

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Three Budget Gins.

It’s Gin o’clock!

Three budget gins.

The cost of living crisis has been tough on a lot of people and these days everything seems more expensive. Although the price of spirits has (at least in my experience) has not risen as fast as other food and drink there can still be less left in your pocket to splash out on luxury items. Like gin. The good news is that you don’t need to break the bank to get a decent mixing gin. The ongoing resurgence in popularity gin is currently enjoying has put a lot of more expensive luxury gins onto the market – and very fine and interesting many of them are too. But you don’t really need those fancy ass products to make certain cocktails, or even a decent G&T so today I’m a gonna hit you up with three gins that will serve you well and yet cost comfortably less than twenty standardised EU alcohol tokens for a 700ml bottle. Let’s go!

Gibson’s Gin.

For a typical price of 15 this really can’t be very good can it? Well despite the low price (and I can sometimes get it on sale for just 12) and low alcohol content of 37.5% Gibson’s is a bona fide British made London Dry gin with a nice crisp, clean nature. The botanicals are very standard so you won’t be getting to much excitement here but guess what? There are a whole bunch of classic cocktails where you don’t need or even want big botanical flavours. Classics such as a Singapore Sling, a Bin & Gitters or a Pegu Club use gin as a base because vodka just wasn’t a thing in the west yet (that only happened after 1945) and often were not particularly looking for much flavour input from that base spirit. While I wouldn’t use Gibson’s in a Martini, those cocktails with other big flavours will be none the wiser for the inclusion of this classic budget gin. Of course you don’t get much in terms of label design or fancy closures or bottles for your €15 but Gibson’s is perfectly serviceable and will not send you off to the food bank to make ends meet. It makes a passable Gin & Tonic – especially if you are using a flavoured tonic – but the two gins below are more interesting for that anyway.

Gordon’s Gin.

Despite its current somewhat lower shelf identity Gordon’s was once the gin that ruled them all and has a long and storied history as the British Empire’s gin of choice. I personally believe the decline began in 1992 when the alcohol percentage in the UK and Europe was cut back to the legal minimum of 37.5% in search of greater profitability. A false economy in my view as I – and likely many others – find it difficult to take a gin under 40% very seriously. It’s priced similarly to Gibson’s but has a bit more character largely due to some uniquely “piney” notes and it’s highly likely that many older gin based classic cocktail were actually created with Gordon’s as a base even if the modern variant is likely less punchy by the order of a few %. There similar good reasons to use Gordon’s to those I listed for Gibson’s but the former also makes a pretty respectable – and deeply classic – G&T. For the full 70’s experience pour it into a straight iced “chimney” glass with some basic Schweppes tonic and a slice of lemon. Just use a bit more ice than the single cube that was oft dispensed back in the day. All told Gordon’s remains a decent all-round gin for a very fair price despite being overtaken by more modern upstarts.

24 Herbs.

I was originally going to review this one separately but it fits well into this category so it’s going to read more “reviewy”: Very much the outlier in this trio being, as it is, not very old and not very British this Polish newcomer to the gin world is, at first glance, sending out some very mixed messages. The bottle is very sturdy for a budget gin with very thick blue/green tinted glass that I doubt would break even if you dropped it onto a tile floor. The well fitting stopper is nice and big, made of wood and plastic and frankly is as good a closure as I’ve seen at any price. The label, however, looks a bit clownish to me. You can see that they’re trying to be all “crafty” but it’s not totally convincing. Recipe going back to 1894? Hmmmm. 24 botanicals? Well there are just a few pictured and two of them don’t really exist so colour me sceptical. 40% abv? Now we’re talking! At €18 a bottle this is absolutely fine and puts Gordon’s and Gibson’s to shame. But the proof’s in the tasting and 24 Herbs is actually a cracking gin for the price. Balanced, yet interesting, it has moments of slight sweetness and moments of bitterness. It navigates the way between a juniper forward and a citrus forward magnificently and comes over much more mid-range than budget. This is absolutely a gin to go for if you’d like to make a low cost Gin & Tonic as it has enough character of its own to shine through even a pretty basic supermarket tonic. Even in times of plenty 24 Herbs it going to be a permanent fixture on my, admittedly crowded, gin shelf.

Conclusion.

You could save a pretty penny by using Gibson’s or Gordon’s in classic gin cocktails which contain liqueurs or other flavourings and notice nary a difference. For a hard-times G&T go for Gordon’s or 24 Herbs with some supermarket grade* tonic** and leave the Etsu and Fever Tree until payday.


*This will vary by location but for me in The Netherlands I like Schweppes when I can find it or Dirk’s own brand. Albert Hein tonic is too lemongrassy for my taste but others may like it.

**Even if you have to pour some out if your litre bottle gets a bit flat towards the end this still works out way cheaper than smaller bottles.

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Frigatebird.

Fly away with me.

Frigatebird.

It’s no secret that I’m a huge Tiki fanboy and am particularly awed by the work of Don The Beachcomber who single handedly created a cocktail genre nigh-on a century ago. Tiki drinks are once more in vogue with a plethora of modernist variations tagged onto the staples created by Don B and Trader Vic many of which rely on more recent products techniques. I recently challenged myself to come up with a new Tiki cocktail that used only the more limited assortment of liqueurs and spirits that would have been available to Don in the 1930s. It would need to be flavourfully deep and rich but also as majestic as the Magnificent Frigatebird* which soars gracefully above the tropical islands that were the (somewhat fanciful) inspiration for all things Tiki. Here I loosely adhere to the typical Tiki formula of one part sour, one part sweet and two parts rum but to create those deep, rich flavours I soar off in a different direction from the tropical fruit flavours that are often used in the sweet component by using the more temperately grounded French blackberry liqueur called Crème de Mûre that would have been relatively available in the US south-east at that time. But it needed more tropicality of course, as well as needing to stay dark to represent the plumage of the Frigatebird. Pimento dram, a heavily allspice flavoured liqueur from Jamaica that Don was very well acquainted with ticked all the boxes and combined beautifully with the mûre. Blackberry and pimento liqueurs vary fairly widely in sweetness so need to be adjusted to taste with a little simple syrup. I started my experiments using a relatively dry blackberry (bramen) jenever which needed half an ounce of syrup but something as sweet as a crème needs less so you’ll need to tweak accordingly. Our rums must also be dark and flavourful and my choice was an ounce of a navy rum and an ounce of a dark Jamaican. I used my own blend of the latter and Woods navy rum as the former but if you’re not in the UK you will have to use another navy proof rum such as Pussers. Assembly of the Frigatebird is a simple affair of shaking with crushed ice and dirty-dumping into a suitable glass – Mai Tai style. Due to the male Frigatebird’s impressive red throat a red or purple garnish is appropriate.


Frigatebird.

1oz / 30ml Navy rum (see text).

1oz / 30ml Dark Jamaican rum (see text).

1oz / 30ml Fresh  lime juice.

0.75oz / 22ml Crème de Mûre (see text).

0.25oz / 7.5ml Simple/Demerara syrup to taste (text).

0.25oz / 7.5ml Pimento dram** (pref. homemade).

2 solid dashes of Angostura bitters.

Shake well with crushed ice and pour unstrained into a largish tumbler or cognac glass. Garnish with something Tiki-ish in the red/purple end of the spectrum.

Toast the Magnificent Frigatebird, king of the Caribbean skies.


*That’s actually the bird’s name not just some attempt at some flowery prose from yours truly.

** also known as allspice liqueur or a variation of those words. St Elizabeth or Bitter Truth are two brands you can use if you are too damned lazy to make your own and/or don’t like money.

 

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Compass Rose + blood orange syrup.

Love like blood.

Compass Rose + blood orange syrup.

Blood oranges are a delicious fruit that at their best have raspberry-like flavours that ride on top of the usual oranginess, beautiful marbled flesh and peel that is often dusted with red flecks. But they have issues. You see, blood oranges only grow in quite specific conditions that require cold nights yet in a climate that can support orange trees. In Europe this means they mostly are grown in Italy where those conditions exist. This also means that blood oranges are very, very seasonal being available (in Europe at least) only from late January until mid spring. Damn. But they are in season as I write this so let’s make use of them while they’re here! I’ve always loved them for their garnishing powers, either as just swathes of the peel or dehydrated slices (which allows me to make a supply for the off-season) but I’ve been feeling I need to make better use of these magnificent fruity treasures so I made some blood orange syrup which borrowed from the super juice method to get the most from them. Method follows:

Carefully peel 3 large (or 4 smaller) blood oranges making sure not to get much of the white pith – a decent vegetable peeler being the best way IMHO. Keep the fruit. Cover the peels in 24g of citric acid crystals, stir in and leave for an hour stirring now and then. Squeeze the juice from the 3 naked blood oranges, sieve and add to the peels along with 400ml of water. Blend all of this for 15-20 seconds and strain what remains. Weigh this liquid and put in a clean pan. Add the same weight of white sugar and bring to the boil while stirring. Kill the heat immediately when it hits 100ºC or starts to bubble. Bottle in clean, still warm sterilised glass bottles – smaller ones will help preserve your supply. Fill those you want to keep longer right to the rim to minimise the air gap. They should keep at room temperature for quite a while if you do this right but this is my first attempt so time will tell (I’ll report back in due course). Refrigerate once you open a bottle. My yield was about 800ml and it makes a delicious soda syrup but we, being the evil little tinkerers that we are, will be using it for more nefarious purposes (heh, heh, heh).

Aeons ago, before I got into cocktails in the dying days of the 20th century the cocktailiest thing I did was to put some Myers’s rum and some ice into a glass of orange juice and damn if that was not pretty decent. I thought to use my blood orange syrup to re-create that nostaliga yet uplift it by a good few levels. And thus was born the Compass Rose. Yes, it’s an Old Fashioned variant which I feel I’ve not gone into often enough upon these pages. The rum is of course your choice but, if I may, I advise the following: Something from an island*, with no added sugar and a bit of barrel age in the 7-10 years bracket. Because of the citric acid content of the syrup we up the quantity a touch but again, personal preference applies. As to the bitters I found good ‘ole Angostura the most pleasing but feel free to try others – I know you will anyway you little monsters. And there’s little more to say – other than that Mrs Proof likes her blood orange syrup utilised in a Daiquiri. And she is never wrong**.


Compass Rose.

2oz/60ml aged Caribbean rum (See text but I used Appleton 8).

1.5 teaspoons of blood orange syrup (see above).

2-3 dashes of Angostura bitters.

Stir with ice and strain into a double Old Fashioned glass containing a large ice block or sphere. Garnish with a swathe of blood orange peel or if out of season a dehydrated blood orange wheel (as pictured) or just regular orange peel.

I toast DJ Steve my fruit-loving colleague who keeps me up to date on when and where to find the best blood oranges.


*This being my general golden rule for quality rummage, the sole exception being the Demerara rums of mainland Guyana.

**I am contractually obliged to state this.

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Remember Your Name.

1,2,3 1,2,3 come get it now…

Remember Your Name + riffing on classics.

The dirty little secret of the craft cocktail movement (I dislike the term, but whatever) is that the vast majority of cocktails on the menu are just riffs on classic recipes. In fact I quite enjoy going through the modern cocktail menu – which is typically just a list of flavours followed by a price – trying to spot which one will be the Old Fash rehash, the Daiquiri derivative, the Manhattan mutation, the Collins conversion or the phoney Negroni. The tweaking of the age old classics might at first glance seem a little lazy but the truth is that there is really nowhere else to go as there has been no truly innovative cocktail formula in the last 50+ years. In the same way that there are only 7 story plots there are really only a limited number of cocktail formulae that are palatable to the masses: The Old Fashioned (spirit, sugar, bitters), the Daiquiri/Sour (spirit, sour, sugar), the Manhattan/Martini (spirit, vermouth, bitters) and the Collins/Planter’s Punch (spirit, sour, sugar, soda/juice). For those trying to create their own drinks for the first time take the advice of one who spent too long trying to create something new from scratch and just start by making small changes to some classic drinks. There’s absolutely no shame in it at all and it’s what all those “high end” craft cocktail bars are doing anyway. Example follows:

Let’s look at my variation on the Remember the Maine (which we recently discussed), itself a version of the Manhattan. I was looking for a “new” cognac based drink to add to my repertoire and the Remember the Maine looked like a good candidate. Switching one oaked spirit for another is a pretty safe bet but a bit of further fine tuning is often required. Bitters are a great way of nudging a drink in a desired direction and here I reached for Fee’s excellent Black Walnut bitters to create a woodier and deeper cocktail. I cut the cherry brandy by just a touch because I wanted the walnut bitters to come forward but you could easily leave it at half an ounce too. And that’s how easy it can be. My new cognac cocktail is different enough from the original yet familiar and comfortable. Were it appear on a modern craft cocktail menu it would be all:

Cognac – cherry – vermouth – absinthe – black walnut –  14

and not informing us we would be sipping on a hundred-year-old drink with a decidedly iffy back story. But that’s how it goes these days. It’ll need a clever name which preferably alludes to the original and thus we have the Remember Your Name.


Remember Your Name.

2oz/60ml Cognac (I used Courvoisier VS).

0.75 oz/22ml Italian Vermouth (I used Punt e Mes).

0.33oz/10ml Heering cherry brandy.

2 dashes Fee’s Black Walnut bitters.

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled Champagne coupé which has been rinsed (or spritzed) with absinthe. Garnish with a cocktail cherry (I used a real Maraschino cherry).

Toast Grant Hart (1961 – 2017).


 

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Remember the Maine.

The Maine event.

Remember the Maine.

I first approached the Remember the Maine with the intention if riffing on it because I hate the name of this drink so much but then I remembered how good it actually tastes and have left my riffed version for a later date in order to share this hideously named drink with you. So about that. In 1898 an American warship USS Maine exploded in Havana harbour killing most of the crew. While it was known almost immediately to be a accident (burning coal and gunpowder not being a peaceful combination) the USA decided to blame the Spanish and proceed to nab the mineral, sugar, tobacco and rum-rich colonies of the remains of the Spanish empire* for themselves. American newspapers lead the rush to war with the rallying cry, “Remember the Maine! To hell with Spain!” the first half of which became a cocktail name. You see my distaste I think. At least this name makes it fairly easy for us to date this cocktail as it certainly cannot predate the events of 15th February 1898. The first mention of it is in Charles H. Baker’s Gentleman’s Companion of 1939 where he writes,

REMEMBER the MAINE, a Hazy Memory of a Night in Havana during the Unpleasantness of 1933, when each swallow was punctuated with bombs going off on the Prado, or the sound of 3″ shells being fired at the Hotel Nacional, then haven for certain anti-revolutionary officers. Treat this one with the respect it deserves Gentlemen. Take a tall bar glass and toss in 3 lumps of ice. Onto this foundation donate the following in order given: 1 jigger of good rye whisky, ½ jigger of Italian vermouth, 1 to 2 tsp of cherry brandy, ½ tsp absinthe or Pernod Veritas. Stir briskly in a clock-wise fashion – this makes it sea-going presumably! – turn into a big chilled saucer champagne glass, twisting a curl of green lime or lemon peel over the top.

While there is barely a word of Baker’s that I can agree with** there are things we can deduce from his text. The drink already existed and was not an invention of Baker himself. Absinthe was banned in the US in 1912 so likely it predates the ban. The version Baker was drinking was not garnished with a cherry as it almost always is later on. And that’s a lot of absinthe compared to more modern versions! In any case I theorise that the RtM was indeed concocted immediately following the events of 1898 as the ingredients and formulation are typical of the time. The Spanish-American war war very brief and I can’t see it being in the public’s attention enough for a drink to be named this way some time later. I tried at various formulations from Baker’s to the modern and settled on the one I present you here. It’s a slight outlier in that it uses a split base of rye and bourbon while most specs call for one or the other. The cherry garnish is unshakably installed by now so I didn’t mess with it but I did try something new. I’d read a tip that mixing the ingredients of a Manhattan a day before and resting overnight in a glass bottle makes for a smoother drink so the RtM being basically a tweaked Manhattan I gave it a go. There might be something to it – I certainly notice that effect in some other things I make. That’s up to you to try here if you like but in any case:


Remember the Maine.

1oz/30ml Rye whisky (I used Rittenhouse).

1oz/30ml Bourbon (with some rye content eg. Wild Turkey 101).

0.75 oz/22ml Italian Vermouth (I used Punt e Mes).

0.5oz/15ml Heering cherry brandy.

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled Champagne coupé which has been rinsed (or spritzed) with absinthe. Garnish with a cocktail cherry (I used a real Maraschino cherry).

Toast the brief but progressive Cuban Government that Baker and the USA hated so much.


*Long in decline and certainly no angels themselves.

**For example the “the unpleasantness” included, according to Wikipedia, “autonomy to the University of Havana, women obtained the right to vote, the eight-hour day was decreed, a minimum wage was established for cane-cutters, and compulsory arbitration was promoted.” Nasty, nasty stuff alright but not to worry a US-friendly right-wing dictator was soon safely installed. Phew! /s.

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The Anarchist + Calisay(a).

I am an anarchist…

The Anarchist + Calisay(a).

In my idle moments I enjoy paging through ancient cocktail books (or reprints thereof) for interest, information or inspiration. To be honest there’s not a great deal of the latter as 100+ years ago things were pretty spartan in terms of ingredients in cocktailworld. Upwards of 80% of pre-WW2 cocktails are some combination of spirit, vermouth and bitters, with the odd dash of liqueur. And when it comes to liqueurs most of the time the choice is Curaçao. It’s a bit puzzling as there were certainly plenty of liqueurs bouncing around Europe at the time but I can only imagine that most were consumed locally and never made it to London, Paris or USA where most of the cocktail culture was flowering. And why did Curaçao make the jump coming, as it did, from a tiny Caribbean* island? Who knows? Where we do find other liqueurs it gets even weirder: WTF are Hercules and Calisaya that are called for in a few cocktail books from the pre-prohibition era? This puzzle lay unsolved by me until recently when while scrolling through the liqueur section of an online supplier I noticed something called Calisay. Could this be the strange liqueur I thought long extinct? Obviously I ordered some and also dug a little deeper. The internet was not particularly helpful with different sources claiming it was Italian, Spanish or extinct and then recreated in the USA. Well my bottle says “Legitimo licor desde 1854”, has medals from around 1900, it is very, very made in España and Difford’s Guide concurs** so I reckon we’ll just have to go with that. The US product may be quite different for all I know so please keep that in mind. The missing ‘a’ on the end remains a mystery to me. But you want to know what this is made of right? Well Calisay(a) is a liqueur based on chinchona (aka quininne) which is familiar to us from Indian tonic water. In this form it is delivered in a brandy base and heavily sweetened which gives it a pretty powerful bittersweet character. To me Calisay is to chinchona as Suze is to gentian. I quickly put some to use in the cocktails from my 1900 cocktail manual reprint but found the results pretty unappealing. One is a 50/50 mix of Calisaya and whisky and the other one part Calisaya to two of Plymouth gin. Both are completely dominated by the massive hits of chinchona and sugar which means that either Calisay of old was far milder, palates were sweeter (evidence points the other way) or these were just pretty poor unbalanced recipes. That means we’re gonna have to go freestylin’ – which suits me just fine. It transpires that Calisay/a is a challenging product to work with having a peculiar, if addictive, flavour. The sweetened chinchona is very dominant so a light hand is needed and I found myself dialing that component down quite a long way until I found the right balance. The recipe I finally arrived at pays homage to the common ingredients of 100+ years ago whilst adjusting it to more modern tastes. It also honours some of those who fought Fascism in Spain in the dark years from 1936-1939.


The Anarchist.

2oz / 60ml of Irish whiskey (I tried a few but Jameson is just fine).
0.5oz / 30ml Italian vermouth (I used Punt e Mes).
0.25oz / 7.5ml Calisay.
2 dashes Bogart’s bitters (or another aromatic bitters).

Stir with ice and strain over a big block of ice and add a swathe of orange peel.

Toast Spain’s bold experiment.


NOTE: If you can’t get your hands on any Calisay you could try any Italian amaro with China in the name (pronounced “keena” which is Italian for quininne) which may be somewhat similar. You best chances of getting some Calisay are in Spain. If you live in the Netherlands, Belgium of Germany you can order it here.

*Ok, technically Antillian rather than Caribbean but let’s not split hairs.
**Their guide shows an older bottle but clearly the same product.

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Fallback.

Legends of the fall.

 

Fallback.

This autumnal cocktail, which was created by the late legendary cocktailista Sash Petraske, caught my attention because of the somewhat unusual preparation instructions. According to his book Regarding Cocktails the ingredients are just built (cocktailspeak for poured into) in a whisky glass, a large ice cube added and then stirred until “sufficiently chilled”. This goes against everything we have been told about making aromatic style cocktails and almost all subsequent re-tellings of this drink attempt to normalise it by using the usual techniques of stirring it with ice, straining it and serving it either up or down over ice. Sasha was a cocktail genius but it sounds to me like a lot of people don’t trust him. I do. I believe his instructions are very specific for a reason. We stir with ice to achieve cooling but also dilution but it seems to me that Mr P was going deliberately for some chilling but with minimal dilution in order to keep the drink strong and luxuriant. Something to be enjoyed after a fine meal – it was, after all, created for the menu of a high end oyster bar – as a digestif like a glass of Cognac or port. As such it doesn’t need to be diluted or ice cold as a full stomach can handle that potency in a way that an empty one cannot. I make my Fallback exactly as Sasha described with only minor substitutions for what I have available: Calvados instead of applejack and Punt e Mes vermouth rather than Carpano Antica*. The amaro Nonino might be tricky for some but well worth seeking out as it also essential in the delicious Paper Plane. Made this way the Fallback is indeed punchier and more intense than a stirred and strained aromatic cocktail. You find yourself taking smaller sips as each contains oodles of flavour and, wow, are they beautifully integrated. Your tastebuds are just dancing all over the place in a way you just don’t experience with a more diluted drink. So there we have it folks: Sasha Petraske, now some 8 years departed, was doing something interesting here that those who came after him failed to properly understand. Message ends.


Fallback.

1oz/30ml Rye whisky (eg. Rittenhouse).

1oz/30ml VS Calvados (originally bonded applejack).

0.5oz/15ml Italian vermouth (I used Punt e Mes*).

0.5oz/15ml Amaro Nonino.

2 dashes Peychaud’s bitters.

Add all ingredients into an un-chilled double old fashioned glass. Add a single big block or ball of ice and stir gently in the glass for about 60 seconds. Garnish with a long swathe of orange peel.

Toast Sasha Petraske (yes, yet again).


*This is simply my personal preference as I like the extra bitterness that Punt e Mes brings and as a home bartender I can’t have various bottles of vermouth open at the same time. Feel free to use any other quality Italian vermouth.

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Humbaba + turmeric.

Mellow yellow.

Humbaba.

It’s official! Apparently we can all be much healthier if we get more of the wonder-spice turmeric in our bellies. Having no greater concern than our ahem collective healths I reckoned I could make my own little contribution to packing more curcumin into our diets. I hereby present the Humbaba, a twist on the Whisky Sour or perhaps more accurately (and appropriately) the Penicillin. If you are not familiar with turmeric it is a wonderful spice much used in Indian and Persian cuisine with a pleasant bitterness, pungent aroma and incredibly intense rusty orange colour. So intense that almost no matter how much you dilute this stuff you’ll get a final drink with a rusty/yolky hue. I found that a level teaspoon of fine turmeric powder in every 100ml of home-made ginger syrup was the right ratio of sweet to bitter. Thereafter I proceeded to make a whisky sour but with a bit more syrup than usual because of the bitter content. The basic formula of 2 parts whisky to a part each of the syrup and lemon juice was quite pleasing so I then turned my attention to finding the right whisky. After some trial and error I settled on a 50/50 mix of peaty Islay malt and a milder whisky – initially Irish but finally a Scottish blended malt. Either will get you somewhere desirable. Specifically I went for 1oz of Finlaggan Original, an incredibly good value Islay malt that while lacking in subtlety and age is a great affordable way to get some peat smoke intensity in your mixed drinks. An ounce of reliable mixer Monkey Shoulder completed the picture. My Irish choice was Teeling Small Batch but my bottle ran dry before the tinkering was done and Monkey Shoulder worked just as well – or maybe just a touch better. So besides the making of the ginger & turmeric syrup – which I’ll go through under the recipe for those not used to making their own ginger syrup – this worked out to be a nice easy equal parts spec (always nice) with a very standard mixing process. And to me the interaction of the turmeric with the whisky is simply epic. Speaking of which you might be wondering about the drink’s funny name. Well, way long ago Humbaba was simply minding his own business doing a bit of guardianing in the cedar forest when along comes this dude Gilgamesh and his mate Enkidu and kill him to death for no apparent reason. Poor Humbaba. I reckon he needs a drink.


Humbaba.

1oz/30ml Islay malt whisky

1oz/30ml mild Scotch or Irish whisky (see text)

1oz/30ml fresh lemon juice

1oz/30ml ginger & turmeric syrup (see below)

Shake with ice and strain into a double Old Fashioned glass containing a big block or ball of ice.

Toast Humbaba – guardian of the cedar forest.


Ginger syrup and ginger & turmeric syrup.

Peel a chunk of fresh ginger about the size of two fingers with a potato peeler. Don’t worry about getting every last piece of the skin off. Chop into thinish slices. Hopefully that should be around 70g. Throw that into a blender along with 200g of fine sugar and 200ml of very hot water then pulse blend about 20 times. Leave it in the blender (or in a bowl) for about 2 hours then strain through a fine sieve pressing down on the ginger pulp with a spoon to get maximum gingeriness. Put into a sterilised bottle. Shake well and keep in the fridge. To make a ginger and turmeric syrup simply divert some of that and add fine turmeric powder at the ratio of 1 level teaspoon per 100ml. Shake this syrup well before use as the turmeric tends to settle towards the bottom of the bottle.

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