Splificator

Jeez, you let a person get one round of drinks.... That's it--next time I'm definitely bringing my wallet...if i can just find it...maybe in my other pants...the laundry hamper?...it's around here somewhere, I know it is...hang on a sec, I'll be right back....

Thanks for the shout out and the interest; this should be fun! And yes, as CachacaDave reports, we are definitely covering chachaca--and pisco, arrack, barack palinka, soju, kumiss, marc, mezcal, mao tai and even, if we can get our hands on some, Ugandan banana gin. As for the vodka thing. While I think it's foolish to say "vodka x is better than vodka y because it costs more," I think it's equally foolish to say "all vodkas are the same." Sure, vodka is the boneless, skinless chicken breast of spirits. But there's Perdue and there's Bell & Evans. If I'm forced to have a grilled chicken sandwich (rather than, say, tacos de lengua), I'd prefer it to be the free-range one that actually has a little flavor and texture to it, rather than the water-and-hormone-injected one that just makes me sad. (And yes, there are plenty of high-priced Perdues in the vodka market; shame on them.) In any case, all our tastings will be blind, so the factory-farmed and the free-range will presumably identify themselves without any mythologizing on our part.

Acting as much as is humanly possible like Gary Regan in all things, without actually being him (one is enough).

Fred?

I'm sipping one right now. And it has indeed scratched the itch quite nicely, thank you. Your description was spot on. It's more complex than just the plain old chilled vodka, but the base flavor is still shining through well enough to taste clearly. Quite a nice cocktail and one I'll be adding to my repertoire with some frequency, I suspect. A great way to drink quality vodka without adulterating it to oblivion. ← I'm glad that worked for you! Not a particularly creative drink, to be sure, but not everything has to be. Szambelan--never heard of it. And it's always the foodless shots that get you.

I myself have been inebriated in the great Borough of Queens on more than one occasion. And again, the door was, is and shall be open to bars of ALL KINDS. Perhaps I was not clear enough about this in my original post. It's not just about the cocktails. Thanks for all the suggestions, and please keep them coming (now I've just got to convince my editor to put me on the next flight to Oahu).

As you say, great minds. As long as we don't specify great in which way, right? Let me know how it comes out--I hope it hits exactly the spot that needs hitting!

Oh, Ms D, you make me want to strike my tent and head straight for Seattle. Of course dive bars are included--a lousy bar that looks great and makes great cocktails is still a lousy bar, and a great bar that smells bad and can't even get a simple G&T right is still a great bar. I yield to nobody in my appreciation for a properly-mixed drink, but there are more important things in life. Thanks everyone for all the suggestions, and please, please keep them coming--particularly ones that aren't in New York (I live in New York and there are thank God still a few bars here that haven't banned me).

This is how I'd approach it as well. It's the traditional (that is, Easter European) way to serve vodka, and there's a reason for that. If, however, you really, really want to make a cocktail that shows off the vodka, I'd go with what I call a Delancey (for why I call it that, see Fatdeko's principles for naming drinks in the "When is a Collins Not a Collins" thread). This is basically nothing more than a vodka Old-Fashioned, where the bitters and lemon peel aromatize the vodka and the Demerara sugar syrup smooth it out and add some depth of flavor. Nonetheless, the body and the character of the vodka come through loud and clear. If the vodka is a good, old-school Eastern European one, this can be a surprisingly good drink. The Delancey: Combine in a small tumbler or Old-Fashioned glass: 1/2 teaspoon rich simple syrup (made with 2 parts Demerara sugar to 1 part water) 1 dash orange bitters 1 dash Peychaud's or Angostura bitters 2 oz vodka Stir well, add two or three large ice cubes, stir some more and twis a swatch of thin-cut lemon peel over the top. Let sit for a couple of minutes before drinking. [Edited because I was drinking rye while typing.]

Some of the folks at Esquire and I thought it would be an interesting project to try to find the very best bars in America. Of course, visiting every bar in in the country to do this, while fun and educational, would not be practical. We'd have to cover some 34,978 bars each. That would take a while and our spouses would be cross when we got in. In other words, we need help--and whom better to ask than eGulleteers? Here's what we're looking for: bars that are unique; that create their own little world where you wander in after dinner, start chatting with the folks around you and the next thing you know it's closing time; bars where the first sip of your drink makes you feel like that guy on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel when God touches his finger; bars that make a beer and a shot taste better than vintage Dom Perignon; bars--well, you get the idea. Any kind of bar, as long as it's great. This being an Esquire joint, there's a snarky little survey form you can fill in on Esquire's homepage (look under features): Esquire.com If that does not appeal and you'd rather post your suggestions, that would be fine as well. Anything would help. Tx, DW [Edited to replace easy and efficient, but defective, direct link to survey with slightly less easy link to Esquire homepage.]

As a barfly of some thirty years' standing and a parent of eight (that is, eight years' standing, not eight children, thank God!), I have to respectfully disagree--provisionally, though. I'm never bothered in a bar by anybody who isn't bothering me. If the child is quiet and well-behaved and the parents are attentive and don't let the infink (as Popeye would say) have free range of the place or scream, cry, shout, throw Cheerios on the floor, and if they don't take over the place with their impedimenta, then where's the harm?

Yes. It began its life as a sour with a splash of fizz.

Noah-- The problem is this is a huge topic with a lot of questions that aren't amenable to the kind of answers one has time for during quick breaks from the working day. Monongahela rye made it until the 1980s, when National Distillers broke up and Jim Beam got Old Overholt, moving production to kentucky. Why did this happen? I guess the short answer would be Kentucky valued its whiskey industry and Pennsylvania didn't. I don't know why that is. There are many microdistilleries starting all around the country these days, but for major brands the US doesn't need a lot of distilleries, particularly if they're the size of Beam's Clermont one, which is unbelievably huge (and still manages to make some fine whiskey--Booker's is a case in point). In short--don't quit your job, but do make whiskey and genever.

All I'm saying is that, in the absence of some central authority to create categories and define recipes and enforce those judgments (and how grim would that be?), one has to rely on one's judgment. If your judgment says that strawberries and lychees a martini do make, well, that's the kind of judgment you have.

Actually, I was kidding here; if I didn't have a pathological hatred of yellow smilies I would've attached one. I completely agree that there are no hard and fast rules here; it's a situation that requires judgement, not obedience. We've got to work in the spirit of the law, because there is essentially no letter. A perfect example (and why the quotes around "cocktail greats"--if Dale DeGroff isn't one, who is?). At least since 1895, the Martini has always been the most straight-edge and austere of all cocktails. That's its spirit, that's its essence. You can monkey around with proportions, you can add a dash or two of this or that, but if you know your drinks--not just their production, but the whole culture surrounding them--you know there's a line which you cannot cross and still have it be a Martini. Vodka for gin, ok (grudgingly for some, myself included, but nonetheless). Dry sherry for vermouth, sure. Dash of absinthe, why the hell not. Strawberries and lychees--if you gotta ask.... In other words, the Martini may really be a class of drinks rather than a single formula inscribed on a tablet of stone by the Lord God Jehovah atop Mount Horeb, but that class of drinks has its unique nature and boundaries just like any other. As do the Julep and the Smash. But their boundaries are of course different. Take the Julep. Historically, its formulation was widely veriable--the whiskey version we know now didn't dominate the class until after the Civil War. Earlier versions were based on brandy, rum, Madeira and such and garnished with fruits and berries in season. There were Pineapple Juleps and Champagne Juleps. DeGroff's elaboration might be anachronistic, but it's not ahistorical. Perhaps the modern boundaries of the class have shrunk, but maybe it's time we reclaimed some of that territory. If he were here, he'd be at the track with Dale rather than hanging around on the internet. Insert smiley face here. Chizz chizz, D

Speaking for myself, that's certainly my intention. No deviation, please. At all.

A jigger being how much? 1 1/2 ounces Not in the Wondrich household. We've always followed the teachings of Mahatma C. H. Baker, Jr., who held that “a jigger less than 2 oz is both unthinkable and an insult to all guests.” Then again, a jigger MORE than 2 oz is both undrinkable and an insult to all ganglia.

So the Aviation it is. Good point about the internet, Sam--although I think that the same argument applies to rye as well. With no advertising whatsoever, this is a category that, rather than dying from semi-benign neglect, has struggled back to life and is showing signs of breaking out. I think that's due to the internet's ability to turn isolated people with a curiosity about something into active and educated consumers, and also due to its ability to prime the pump for the traditional media. Six or seven years ago, when I began writing about spirits and cocktails, you were lucky to see rye mentioned in the press twice a year, and that usually only in passing. Now, it's getting the feature article treatment all over the place, and that's not because the journalists who write these things posess a lifelong appreciation for America's drinking heritage.

What is this supposed to mean? Something tells me you are slagging off Daiquiris for some weird reason. Are you even making them properly? George S. ← I'm with George on this one. made properly--and intelligent people can differ on this, but only a little bit--this is one of the most noble, refreshing and invigorating of all drinks (plus it's the first classic cocktail invented outside the U.S.--go globalism!). I like mine (surprise surprise) the old-fahioned way: Squeeze half a lime into your cocktail sheker. Add a heaping half-teaspoon superfine sugar. Stir to dissolve. Add 2 oz GOOD white rum* Stir again, add a lot of cracked ice and shake the hell out of it. Strain it into a champagne coupe or cocktail glass and have at it. Simple. (I don't like to use simple syrup on this one because I think it makes them taste watery.) *I've had splendid results with Havana Club 3-year-old, 10 Cane, Neisson, La Favorite, Clement Premiere Canne, Brugal, Angostura and Mathusalem and probably a couple of others I can't recall. Anything but the B-word.

Are you certain about this?? It's my understanding that all Scotch starts with barley that is sprouted and then toasted/dried over peat fires or in kilns that have peat fires. The differences in flavor come from the fact that the Highlands are less rainy and wet than either the Lowlands or Islay areas so the peat both smokes less and burns more quickly as it is less damp and humid to beign with. The Lowlands and Islay areas are much rainier, colder and more humid (I'm told the rain comes down sideways in some places) so the peat starts out "wetter" and hence smokes more and takes longer to burn, hence the much more pervasive flavor of peat in the Scotch whisky from these places.... This may have been true in the nineteenth century, but nowadays all but a tiny handful of distilleries buy their barley malt from one of the big maltings, where the amount of peat-smoke added, which varies from none at all (in a surprising number of cases) to quite a lot can be carefully controlled and adjusted to each customer's precise needs. Most of the highly smoky Scotches are that way because they used to be that way in the past, not because the conditions they're made under mean they have to be. The modern world, God bless it. Springbank still does things completely the old-fashioned way, BTW.

Let the haters hate, let the doubters doubt, I stand by my list and my life. But seriously. Clearly, the Rye Manhattan isn't the most popular/trendy drink going, and not by a long shot. But I think that it, along with maybe the Aviation, can be used as a benchmark test for a bar that's hip to the resurgence of mixology--at least, to the traditional school of it. That, however, may not be the winning school this decade; we're only a little more than halfway through, after all. I suspect the vodka school will win on points (and through marketing), but I couldn't think of one drink that encapsulated what that school was doing. Then came Mixtress (I knew I shoulda asked my bartender). So. The vote of hope: 2000s Rye Manhattan (or Aviation) Or the vote of despair: 2000s: Apple Martini I'm going with hope. I could be wrong.

Eje having had the temerity to send me some of these Weaponized Bitters of Mass Destruction, the least I could do was try them. Since the Bone, one of the drinks in my repertoire, already contains three dashes of tobasco sauce, that seemed like the perfect place to start. And guess what: I lived to tell the tale. What's more, I had another. Nice work. The Hellfire Bone: Shake well with cracked ice: 2 oz 100 or 101-proof rye whiskey (or 100/101 bourbon) 1 teaspoon fresh-squeezed lime juice 1 teaspoon rich simple syrup (the kind made with 2 parts demerara to 1 part water) 3 cautious dashes Baker's Hellfire Bitters. Strain into chilled tall shot glass and have at it. The Hellfire Bitters have a cleaner, more piercing heat than the tobasco--a blue flame rather than a red flame. You don't get much but the peppers coming through at first, but some of the other stuff bobs up on the palate after the initial shock has worn off.

That's funny--that's pretty much exactly how I've been breaking things down for the last couple of years when I get the dreaded question "what are the current trends in cocktails." Great minds think alike, or at least normal minds pickled in the same great booze. The Traditional School and the Vodka School, I call 'em. I chose to emphasize the traditional school, but a case could definitely be made for the other. Funny thing, though, is I see the two coming together--traditionalists doing more infusions (a Vodka School thing, since if you want flavor in your vodka you've got to put it there yourself), playing with more fruits, etc, and Vodkies dipping their toes in the darker spirits. This, I think, is a good thing.

So, taking all this in, how would something like this strike everybody? 1920s: Orange Blossom (bootleg gin, orange juice) 1930s: Sidecar (brandy, Cointreau, lemon juice and ice) 1940s: Daiquiri (white rum, lime juice, sugar and ice) 1950s: Ultradry Martini (gin, whisper of dry vermouth and ice) 1960s: Vodka Martini (vodka, whisper of dry vermouth and ice) 1970s: White Wine Spritzer (white wine, soda water and ice) 1980s: Margarita (tequila, triple sec, lime juice) 1990s: Cosmopolitan (citrus vodka, triple sec, lime juice, cranberry juice and ice) 2000s: Rye Manhattan (rye whiskey, sweet vermouth, bitters and ice) I'm inclined to go with the Orange Blossom over the Bacardi Cocktail, if only because I think cheap domestic hooch--bathtub gin--was ultimately more characteristic than smuggled foreign stuff, although there was no shortage of that, either. As for the '60s, that was the decade that vodka first outsold gin, so we're pretty good there. I'm still somewhat unsatisfied with the '70s and '80s entries, but maybe that's just a reflection of how I feel about the '70s and '80s in general. The '70s could go tequila, but I think that it didn't really peak here in NYC until the early '80s, so I put the Margarita in for that decade instead. Besides, I remember drinking tons of them here at the time. But I think the '80s decade could also be well represented by the Vodka Martini--for the "greed is good" crowd--or the Russian brothers or any one of the common shooters. Getting back to the '70s, I still like the White Wine Spritzer for its health food, anti-booze, fern-bar connotations. Much of that spilled over into the '80s (when did Bartles & Jaymes first begin to spew their evil forth upon the land?), but might as well catch it when it was new. Annybody wanna argue about the 2000s? Thanks all, DW

Thanks; it's a start, anyway. I'm with you about Prohibition; what would you suggest? Bronx? Orange Blossom? As for the Tiki '40s-'50s, I think for a national list you'd be absolutely correct. But for a New York-centric list, the '50s were all about the "see-through," the "silver bullet," the (your own cliche here). We're talking Madison Avenue. We're talking Segram Building. International style all around. Not that there weren't Tiki bars in NYC (Trader Vic's was in the basement of the Plaza of all places), but my sense is that it was a subsidiary strain in the drinking culture. You could be right about the ultradry v. M. for the '60s, but then what do we put in the '80s? The Cape Codder?