Splificator

Against the New Yorker piece, there's the interview Petiot gave a local paper in Ohio in 1966 (where, of all places, he finally settled down--his wife was from there, but still). In it, he gave this account: “We had just been to a little Russian place in Paris and we came back to Harry's to try to mix something with vodka." They mixed vodka and tomato juice. "It wasn't so bad, so we began to talk about a name for it.” According to Petiot, it was named by Roy Barton, an American entertainer (and I.B.F. #7), who named it in tribute to the Bucket of Blood, a Chicago nightclub. Petiot moved to America in 1925, ending up at the St. Regis in 1933. In this interview, he claimed that he added the other ingredients--the worcestershire, etc--at the prodding of Serge Obolensky, the hotel's manager (he's worth a massive digression of his own). Ultimately, you pays your money and you takes your choice. I can imagine that Petiot would be unwilling to call Jessel, a big star, a liar and a thief, but then again, I have no direct knowledge of Petiot's morals, either, other than the fact that he was an immensely popular and respected bartender during his thirty-plus years at the St. Regis. Bartender or celeb; take your pick.

I wouldn't go putting too much credence in George Jessel--read further in that same article and you'll see that he also claimed to have invented the Bloody Mary, which is patently false. Plus, there's the story that the Salty Dog was invented by some war correspondents in China during World War II (thus sportswriter Norris Anderson, who was there).

Having done some field research on Chinese distillates, I would recommend NOT trying this. First off, the flavors are completely different; the only thing Batavia arrack and Chinese distillates share is the uniquely volatile and permeating nature of their aromas. But the Indonesial (Batavia) arracks I've tried are really rums, albeit funky ones. The best substitute I know is the Wray & Nephew white overproof rum from Jamaica. The Chinese liquors I've tried are emphatically not rums, and are indeed an acquired taste (and that's putting it politely). They're the limburgers and Epoisses of the spirits world. An excellent article is Lars Frederickson's "The Liquor from Luzhou and the Secret of the Earth Cellar"; I'd give a link but right now the only thing that's working is Google's cache of it. And George-- I think the Goan (coconut sap or "toddy") arrack was indeed the original kind used for Punch, but by the 19th century it seems to have fallen out of favor; at any rate, I've only found one reference to it being imported to the US, as against many for Batavia arrack. One possible reason is that it was (and still is, judging from the Sri Lankan variety) much weaker than the Batavia kind, and hence needed to be used in large quantities. Since shipping costs made arrack the most expensive of liquors, this would have Batavia arrack, which was--and is--potent enough that only a little will flavor a punch, a much more attractive proposition.

Assuming you're right-handed, hold the metal part in your left hand with the glass pointing up. Now tap it smartly with the heel of your right hand, fingers pointing up, at the approximate spot where the metal and glass meet. Repeat until the vacuum is broken, rotating the shaker a quarter-turn or so after every tap. Good luck (and this happens to everyone)! Edited. Spelling? Who cares about that old thing anymore?

Nice. And I say that in part because those are pretty much the same results I got when I tested all this out, back when I was writing Esquire Drinks--ice right out of the freezer, whacked into smithereens in a Lewis bag, and stirred. Not a lot of dilution, maximum coldness. When I did the same thing and shook it, it was on average something like 3 to 5 degrees F warmer. I didn't use the delicious Fancy Gin Cocktail, though (I think mine was equal parts Bacardi 151 and water--had to find something to do with the stuff). Edited because I said "colder" and meant "warmer." One of these days I'll get that whole "comparative" thing figured out.

It's vodka. I've tried it.

No need to worry. There are many dedicated Martini drinkers--myself among them--who consider those two brands you have to be perfectly acceptable, and then some, for Dry Martinis. As long as you're trying the in-and-out method of Martini making, why not try something from the other extreme, and mix a round with half gin and half vermouth? This is how they were made before Prohibition, and those folks knew a thing or two about drinks. If you can find a bottle of orange bitters, two dashes in each drink will really kick these into orbit. In any case, a swatch of thin-cut lemon peel twisted over the top to release the oils, as you indicate, will work wonders. Whatever proportions you use, use lots and lots of ice, preferably fresh from the freezer and then cracked (wrap it up in a bar towel and whack it with a rolling pin), and stir. Good luck!

Juice of half a lime (naturally)

"Get" is a French brand of creme de menthe that is to the category as Cointreau is to triple sec. It comes in white and green. I could not contemplate life without the white in my house, because that would mean life without Stingers. If you can call it life. And yes, the peach brandy in the Georgia Julep was a barrel-aged peach eau-de-vie--completely irreplaceable. (Along with good Holland gin and Batavia arrack it's one of the triumvirate of vanished essential spirits of the Saloon Age, and the only one that is made nowhere in the world, to the best of my knowledge.) Rats.

Harry Johnson claimed in his book that it was in 1869 in new orleans, and that he won, but extensive searching has turned up no record of it whatsoever, and Johnson has a proven record of exaggeration (he said that he introduced Cocktails to New York in the 1870s, three generations after they are first documented there). The earliest bartender competition that can be documented is one sponsored by the Innkeeper's Journal in 1889, won by John Dougherty with what is essentially a large champagne cocktail stiffened with brandy. That's not to say that this is the absolute first such contest, but nothing earlier has been found and publicized.

Donbert-- That is very, very cool. --DW

As the author of that "used to be a daiquiri" quote I guess I'm one of the purveyors of this "certain style of rhetoric." Huh. All I'm going to say is that my dislike of sweetness ain't "pathalogical" [sic]. George and Kurt both got it right--just enough, not too much, different for every drink. I don't think that's too unreasonable. And, for the record, I make and taste every recipe that I publish, and not one of them has been swiped from David Embury.

Just tried this myself and am inclined to agree. The cool thing about it is that it's 100% rye malt (rather than the usual rye-corn-barley malt mashbill), aged in used oak barrels (rather than the standard new oak) in a climate closer to Scotland than to Kentucky--in other words, it breaks the mold in many ways. I'd love to see more whiskies doing that (Heaven Hill's excellent Bernheim wheat whiskey is another).

Just wanted to let everybody who suggested bars here that a couple of them made it through the sausage-machine and are in the final article, which should be hitting the newsstands any day now. Thanks for the help!

Actually, my recipe has 1/2 teaspoon of sugar. And I should call it "my" recipe, since it's merely the official recipe Bacardi used to put out in the '30s, with a shade more rum in it (I like rum). Here's a direct quote from a pamphlet called "Bacardi and Its Many Uses" (circa 1937): "Bacardi Cocktail Correct recipe: The juice of half a lime. Half teaspoonful granulated sugar. 1 1/2 oz. of BACARDI White. Mix thoroughly, then shake well in cracked ice. May be served strained or unstrained. Important: Do not alter order ingredients [sic]." The order of the ingredients is important because you want to dissolve the sugar in the lime before adding the rum and ice and shaking. Both the Floridita and Sloppy Joe's called for a full teaspoon of sugar in their Daiquiris, but I find that for my palate, like Dave the Cook says, this version is perfectly, if precariously, balanced. It's particularly good in hot weather--I always feel my body temperature dropping precipitously the minute I insert one into my head. I do always taste before adding the ice--if your limes are particularly sour, or particularly large, that's the time to add another quarter teaspoon or so of sugar. The rum is a factor, too (I like, in order, Havana Club 3 year old, 10 Cane, a good, white agricole or Matusalem white; there are others that escape me at the moment).

Hey, we knew what you meant--and thanks for the kind words; they mean a lot!

I don't know how the other places you mention get their classics ready for service; I can just speak for myself. Most old recipes I write up or put on cocktail lists are slightly adapted: first I try them straight out of the box and then I tweak proportions, brands and sweetness until I get them tasting right--for me, that is. In general, I don't have much of a sweet tooth for drinks (at least, I didn't think so until I read above about Dave S's friend; ouch). I'm not a fanatic about it, though, like David Embury, whose drinks generally seem undersweetened to me. I like what I call a minimal necessary sweetness--just enough to blunt the edge of the citrus, not so much that the drink gets that candied texture that comes before syrupy and oversweet.

I did indeed do the menu you see on the website and even did followup for a while--training new bartenders on the list, replacing drinks, etc. But I'm overdue for a tune-up visit. If they've got a multi-page tome now, that makes me scratch my head. If the Pompadour is indeed the drink you had, that tells me that chd correctly identified the culprit, since the Pompadour has no bitters in it; it's probably somebody forgot to discard yesterday's lime juice (when its old, it gets bitter). Usually, they're on top of that sort of thing. On the other hand, if you had an Improved Gin Cocktail and THAT was too bitter, then eje's on the money: overenthusiastic bittering. In general, the drinks are very old-school, with provenances ranging from the 1860s to the 1920s (to the 2000s, for the ones I invented, although those are definitely modled on old-school drinks). Less sweet and much stronger than the typical fare. I'll be in there in a couple of days and investigate farther.

Thanks a bunch, katie, for the shout-out--great to meet you as well (speaking of incredibly charming0 and it was fun to be down in Philly presenting cocktails, I look at it as pumping some alcohol back into a city I've pumped a good deal out of. The folks at Red Sky were nice and the bartenders were sharp and the whole event was a pleasure to put on. Next time, though, it'll have to be pints and whiskies at the Grey Lodge. Oh, and the Ace of Clubs? Shake well with cracked ice: 1 1/2 oz Mount Gay Eclipse rum 9or similar) juice of 1/2 lime 1/2 oz white creme de cacao (Marie B or Bols) dash (say, 1/2 teaspoon or so) rich simple syrup Strain into chilled cocktail glass and let a couple of drops of Angostura bitter fall onto the surface of the drink. I like.

Rather Chinese isn't it? ← Indeed, and yet it's nonetheless, AFAIK, a traditinal part of the Michelada. I love the global marketplace.

So...what's your formula? I, too, am a Micheladophile--I like them mostly as a sort of third leg in a tequila-Sangrita bender; the tequila supplies the fuel, the Sangrita the match and the Michelada puts out the fire again so that you can start over. Off the top of my head, here's how I make them: Squeeze half a lime into a tall glass. Add: 2 dashes worcestershire sauce 2 dashes Maggi Seasoning (available in a fine bodega near you) 2 dashes Cholula hot sauce Fill glass with cracked ice and top off with good Mexican beer. Stir and serve. I think I've got everything in there. Sometimes I'll rim the glass halfway around with salt. Sometimes I'll put a little very finely diced red onion in there (I was served Tecate with lime and chopped onion once at this funky Mexican joint behind the Music Machine in West LA and it really stuck with me). We're closing in on Michelada weather. Me gusta.

Welcome, Jonathan! Excellent drinks the other night at the Tales of the Cocktail event. Good luck with your website. --DW

Were you never 19? I have--what's the word I want? fond? queasy? sheepish? alarming?--memories of a night spent doing Everclear shots and slam-dancing to the Buzzcocks with a girl with vivid pink hair and tattooos, back when only Marines had tattoos and old ladies from Pensacola had pink hair. Ah, youth.

For what it's worth, here's a tequila and nocino cocktail I came up with for an Italian restaurant last year. When I think Italy and Mexico, I think Sergio Leone and Ennio Morricone--spaghetti western, so I named it the "Tuco," after Eli Wallach's character in "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly." The nocino turns the thing a rather unappetizing brown color, so you can guess which one of the three Tuco was. On the other hand, like Tuco it's got pretty good entertainment value. Tuco (Cocktail coupe) 1 1/2 oz Herradura reposado tequila 1/2 oz Nocino Aggazzotti black walnut liqueur 1/2 oz Gran Gala orange liqueur 1/2 oz fresh-squeezed lime juice Shake and strain into salt-rimmed glass

Finally, some sympathy. Lord knows I deserve it, trying to figure all this out. Thanks, Phlip, and thanks everyone, and if you have more suggestions please do suggest them! (And, Phlip, I'll have to further pursue this Pittsburgh angle in person.) And the drunken, slovenly elves have been notified. Charles it is.