Splificator

You are both way too kind (blush blush). I'm in a bit of a rush here, but briefly-- The Fizz. Fizzes date from the 1860s-1870s; they were always meant to be drunk quickly, more like cocktails than, say Collinses (with which they're generally confused these days). This means that there's no ice in the glass--you shake them up like a cocktail, strain them into what we would call a juice glass (you're absolutely right about that, beans), preferably one which has been chilled (right again) and give them a shot of cold soda water. They're supposed to be actively fizzing (hence the name). Thing is, they were invented before Alka-Seltzer, and were morning drinks (particularly the Gin Fizz--2 oz gin, juice of 1/2 lemon, 1 teaspoon superfine sugar--or the Silver Fizz, which is the same plus an egg white). The fizzing proves a bit of a problem if you're making them at home. A soda siphon works great, but seltzer/club soda from a bottle doesn't give it that sparkle. One old trick is to stir a little superfine sugar in after you've added the soda, which definitely raises a head. But really, making Fizzes is the best excuse to go out and buy that soda siphon you always wanted. As for the Weeski, I posted the recipe in the Lillet thread a while back. If I knew how to link to other threads, I'd be adding that link now. Edited because I type like a chimp on Phenobarbital.

That's how everybody gets to Wo Hop.

That really does sound pleasant...Pink Gins would be in order, methinks.

As far as I know, it means that the bar's TV will periodically display bunches of men in shin-guards standing around for long stretches of time and occasionally stirring themselves to throw a ball in a peculiar overhand manner or swing something that resembles a stunted canoe-paddle through a narrow arc at said ball. Thoroughly incomprehensible bevavior, but there are those who swear by it.

Beans dear-- I really don't know; I'll have to check (nobody tells me anything). But judging from their (vague) episode descriptions, it looks like Episode 2--June 14, 10:30 pm (at least I think that's what "Check out the new sommeliers--baristas!" means). And thanks so much for the shout-out--much, much appreciated! --dw

Thanks, Janet; it really is quite lovely, if I do say so myself. And I'll look for the serrated peeler, although I've got no complaints about the OXO I'm using now (it's their "i-series", which has a replaceable blade--very useful, as nothing is worse than a dull peeler--and a longer channel than their old ones). Peach bitters and Falernum--I've got to try that combo. Which white rum do you use? DW

I've got three things in the rotation this summer. For large parties, it's the Garrick Club Punch, as served at the rather raffish London club of that name in the 1830s. John Timbs' History of Clubs and Club Life gives the recipe thus: This requires some interpretation. After monkeying a bit (and drinking my mistakes), I've come up with the following. I'm assuming he's talking about Imperial pints here. 10 oz gin (I use Bols genever gin, since Hollands gin was very commonly used in the day, and more importantly, it makes a delicious punch) 2 oz maraschino (I'm assuming the "glass" in the recipe is a wineglass, a standard measure of the day, which held 2 oz) 3 oz lemon juice (I have no idea what "a little lemon juice" means, but this works and the total quantity of punch comes out right) 20 oz soda water (Soda water came in 6-oz and 10-oz bottles; the larger ones were the more popular and make sense considering the total quantity of punch required) 25 oz water Being American, I prefer this frozen into a block of ice. And it doesn't have to be exactly 25 oz, either, although if it is you have exactly 60 oz of punch, or 3 Imperial pints. To assemble, peel a large lemon with an oxo peeler and steep the peel in the gin, maraschino and lemon juice for at least an hour. When it's time to serve it forth, pour it in a bowl, bung in your block of ice and add the soda water. This recipe is easily scalable, although the block of ice doesn't need to keep getting bigger in direct proportion. This is a fresh and delightful punch whose flavor will be quite familiar to those familiar with the Aviation. For informal tippling, I've been getting very good results with the Paloma, a Mexican drink: Pour 2 oz reposado tequila in a highball glass, squeeze in the juice of half a lime, drop in the squeezed-out lime shell, add a pinch of salt and some ice and top off with chilled grapefruit soda (I like the Mexican Jarritos brand and the Jamaican Ting). This is extremely refreshing and dirt simple to make, and as a curiosity it's worth noting that, with the slight bitterness of the grapefruit, you've got bitter, sweet, sour and salty all in one drink. For really informal tippling, the Rum Coco is tough to beat: pour rum on ice, add fresh or canned coconut water (not coconut milk) to taste and have at it. For a suave drink, I like Trinidadian rum; for a wildly over the top one, Wray & Nephew white overproof (the most popular rum in Jamaica). In either case, this is very refreshing, especially since the coconut water has all sorts of electrolytes and things. Fresh coconut water--the juice of the green coconut--can be found in its natural container in Asian markets; otherwise, Goya offers an unsweetened coconut water in their line which works just fine. There are several brands of lightly-sweetened stuff on the market, which are ok too. It's hot and I've made myself thirsty. Time to polish off the inch or so of Wray & Nephew I've got left.

If I'm at Heathrow, Woods' Navy Rum: at 116 proof (or 100% of proof according to the old British system, which measured alcohol by weight, not volume) and dark as a lawyer's heart, it's one of the most spectacular tipples in Christendom, and you can't get it here. For punch only, though. Elsewhere, Havana Club 3-year-old (it's legal in England but Bacardi has the Heathrow franchise). For Daiquiris. You?

Seconded. As soon as I can find my copy of William Terrington's Cooling Cups and Dainty Drinks (London, 1869) I'll see what it has to say on the topic. It's gotta be around here somewhere.... And where does one get borage, anyway (and please don't say "at the opera").

Miguel-- This is about the most gratifying thing I've ever heard, and I'm not kidding. The thing about "providing content" for the web, as I was doing (and still do from time to time) in the Esquire Drinks Database, is that it often seems like nobody's reading the stuff. You put it out there and there it is, but there's no real conversation or feedback (which is why sites like eGullet, DrinkBoy's group and MeFi are so nice). You work just as hard as you do when writing for a magazine with audited circulation, but all you get are click counts and the occasional email. So to hear that my rantings and ravings about rye have in some way spurred somebody to not only track the stuff down but to ensure that his compatriots can do the same, well that's better than anything! Thank you! I can't take responsibility for the fact that rye is slowly creeping into the bars here in New York, though. I'm just one of many die-hard fans here--Gary Regan, Dale DeGroff, Audrey Saunders, Sasha Petraske, Del Pedro (one of the very first to resurrect the stuff, if not the first)...there aren't very many of us, but we're pretty vocal and have hopes. For me, rye is personal. I was born in Pittsburgh, on the banks of the Monongahela, and even though my family moved away when I was no more than 8, I think the stuff must have gotten into my bloodstream. As for the ryes-- Wild Turkey. Agreed, delicious. Best Manhattans going, IMHO Old Overholt. Should be bottled in bond (as it always was) at 100 proof, not 80 or 86, and a couple more years in the barrel would be nice, too. It has potential to be truly great. Overholt is the oldest brand of whiskey in America, and it's a shame that it's being treated so shabbily. Jim Beam. Again, Higher proof, more years. Still, very nice and spicy. Van Winkle Family Reserve. Nectar of the gods. Too good for Manhattans, perfect for Sazeracs or Old Fashioneds or just plain sipping. Sazerac. Too long in wood for my tastes. Rittenhouse. The 100-proof is one of the best mixing whiskeys out there--a great bottling. Smoother than the Wild Turkey, but still plenty flavorful. Pikesville. One of my favorite memories is of being in the outpost of altered reality we call Baltimore, just about the only place you can buy Pikesville in the States (it's an old Baltimore brand) and buying a bottle of the stuff in a corner shop for $9 at 10:00 on a Sunday morning from an 11-year-old boy. "Godawful" is probably not too strong a word for it. Ginger ale is essential. There's also Michter's, which is too young and filtered to boot (their previous bottling was excellent, but much older; I think this one needs work), and Stephen Foster, which I've never tried, Old Potrero, which has two ryes that are fascinating and delicious but too expensive for general consumption and a couple of limited-edition bottlings such as A. H. Hirsch and Black Maple Hill, which aren't really a factor. I'll definitely try to track down that article, and pull every string withing my reach to get to Portugal one of these days (and soon), so that I can deliver it in person. I suspect you make a mean Old-Fashioned. Edited for neatness, of course.

First, let me say that I'm blushing: thanks for the kind words from you both, very much appreciated indeed (and Miguel--I'm a big fan of your MetaFilter posts and would love to see your column, even if my Portuguese is highly approximate at best). Second, let me admit that the other reason I'm blushing is for shame. I don't know this paragon of bartending virtue; in the '80s, alas, the Algonquin was out of my economic reach. Now that I can afford it, it has degenerated to a shocking degree--a recent visit yielded some of the worst, most expensive drinks on record. The next time I go up to Esquire's offices I'll look through the back issues for the article in question. If you can give me a more precise range of dates that would certainly help. I've encountered many unforgettable bartenders, but few of them were gentlemen as you describe. There was Jimmy, the spike-haired punk--only a couple of years older than myself--who manned the bar at the Station Pub in my home town on Long Island (this was in the early 1980s). He was not averse to locking the door on a slow night, blasting the jukebox and pouring free drinks for the house (it wasn't his bar, naturally). He also insisted that the only mixed drink worth ingesting was a straight-up dry gin Martini, which he made perfectly with a minimum of fuss. Wise beyond his years. Then there was the large, bearded Grizzly Adams type at Grass Roots on St. Mark's Place in Manhattan, who taught me that it is not acceptable behavior in a bar patron to haul off and kick the jukebox if the record is skipping. Life is a journey. Del Pedro, at Manhattan's recently closed and much lamented Grange Hall also leaps to mind. One of the few native Bermudians in captivity, Del makes a mean Swizzle and knows the proper way to make a Dark & Stormy (more rum, less ginger beer). But he was also one of the first bartenders to resurrect rye whiskey--his Manhattans were impeccable, and will be wherever he ends up--and has internalized the classic art of the cocktail. In other words, his own creations taste just like they came out of the Savoy Cocktail Book, without making a big deal out of it. But mixology is only part of bartending, and what makes Del unforgettable is the atmosphere he created at his his bar, where everybody would end up involved in elliptical, freewheeling conversations that involved regular, passing stranger and bartender alike. Del is one of those bartenders who can cause his bar to bob like a bottle in the stream of passing hours so that those fortunate enough to be sitting there are for a while immune from time's passing. Once you get started on this, there are so many--28 years of drinking in bars, 25 of them legally, create a lot of ghosts. Edited for that pesky grammar.

Yeah, these things are lethal--any drinks that combine booze and a healthy dose of champagne are going to cause serious trouble the next day if one follows one's natural inclination to mop them up in quantity. Head hurts.

For me, that's the peak of mixology--when the flavors of the ingredients blend into something completely different, a taste that has never existed before. When it works, it's just so friggin cool. (It is however to be distinguished from the "you can't taste the liquor" goal of so much modern mixing. I prefer you can taste the liquor, you just can't identify it.) And yeah, two down by 5:00 is awesome.

Agreed. Sasha, the mad genius behind M&H, is in the process of opening the East Side Company Bar, elsewhere down there on the LES, which will NOT require any arcane knowledge from its would-be customers.

Thanks to you, too! The color will come out right, anyway--and that's all the violette is really there for. Should work fine. And I'm sure the Bemelmans Bar will make you an excellent Aviation, if Audrey has anything to say about it, as will Milk & Honey; they used to make them at Angel's Share, too, but I haven't been in in a while.

Maraska is indeed the stuff I was thinking of, and now I see that, according to Beverage Media, it is available here in NY; I'll have to track it down. Agreed, the Florida/Floridita Daiquiri is a great drink. Another thing worth trying is a 19th-century "Gin Cocktail" (before there was the Martini, there was the Gin Cocktail): 2 oz gin, 1/2 teaspoon simple syrup, 1/2 teaspoon maraschino, 2 dashes bitters, stirred and strained and topped off with a twist. This is surprisingly good--even gin-haters will bite at it, provided you make it cold enough and don't tell them what it is they're drinking. It also works very well with Genever gin (it comes out tasting nice and malty).

While you're at it, you might ask him if he's snagged any creme de violette: according to Hugo Ensslin's 1916 Recipes for Mixed Drinks, which has the earliest formula for the drink I've been able to find, that went into the Aviation along with the maraschino, lemon juice and gin (I use a teaspoon of each liqueur, half an ounce of strained lemon juice and two ounces of gin). It gives the drink a pale, skyish blue color--which explains its name. Good luck!

The cognac must be a British addition--due no doubt to the perception (which I share) that the drink was lacking a certain wattage. The Champagne Cocktail in Jerry Thomas' 1862 How to Mix Drinks, the book which first codified the American art of mixology, is essentially as the one served today: bitters, sugar, lemon peel, champagne.

I wouldn't be surprised a bit if the Royal Navy took their champagne with a bit of a stiffener. Champagne and cognac was a pretty widespread combination in the 19th century; as a "Brick and Brace" or "Buck and Brace" it was a popular Gold-Rush drink: 49ers would walk into the nearest drink emporium, drop a bag of gold dust of the bar and call for drinks on the house, the more expensive the better--and what's more expensive than champagne and cognac? The B and B had an added refinement, though: the bartender would wipe the inside of the glass with a wedge of lemon (using a silver fork, of course), fill the glass with superfine sugar, and empty it out again. Then the cognac (a hefty 2 oz or so) and the chilled champagne. Two of these and any street will be paved with gold.

Any brands you recommend? Luxardo is the classic one, a supremely funky-tasting specimen that comes in a straw-covered bottle; the process by which it's made involves separate fermentation of the cherry juice and pomace--if that's what you call it with cherries--including stems and leaves, and all kinds of other complicated, old-fashioned behavior. If Luxardo's too funky (it's really quite pungent), another good brand that has decent distribution is Stock, which is cleaner-tasting but still quite flavorful. Personally, I prefer the Luxardo. There's another brand out there which Doc swears by, but I can't recall it's name. It's Croatian, which is a good thing, but I don't think it's distributed in New York.

The Ramos Gin Fizz Here's the recipe I printed in Esquire Drinks; It's been through numerous rounds of destructive testing and can, I think, be relied on: Combine in shaker: 2 oz London dry gin 1 oz heavy cream (not half & half or milk) white of 1 egg (you can stretch this to 1 egg white per 2 drinks) juice of 1/2 lemon juice of 1/2 lime 2 teaspoons superfine sugar 2 or 3 drops orange flower water Shake the bejeezus out of this until every muscle is straining to breathe and you see spots before your eyes and strain it into a chilled Tom Collins glass. Add chilled seltzer to fill the glass and a straw. This recipe was created by Henry C Ramos at his Stag Cafe in New Orleans some time before 1900. Enjoy.

I think it depends on how much you mix in--I've had plenty of weak, watery Manhattans (all too many), which don't taste that much of alcohol although they do taste of whiskey, while I've had strong Vodka Gimlets with a pretty severe alcoholic edge. But in general I think you're right, in that Cosmos and whatnot--the things they so laughingly call "Martinis" these days--are generally mixed with a lot of juice and sugar, so that you can't taste the alcohol. It's much harder to do acheive that effect with straight rye or London dry gin. Speaking of Aviations--I must have one now.

I'd say rather that they don't like the taste of liquor, since alcohol is the one thing you can taste in vodka.

I'm a fellow rye Manhattan fanatic of some 15 years' standing--for me, the spiciness of the rye cuts through the thickness of the vermouth and gives the drink an edge that makes it work as a true aperitif. Bitters are essential, too, and a twist. The best ryes I've found for Manhattans are Wild Turkey and Heaven Hill's Rittenhouse--the 100-proof bonded version, not the 80-proof. The proof is very important: a 100-proof whiskey has only a little more alcohol than an 80-proof, but it has a lot more flavor and makes for a more concentrated, pungent drink. If I can't get one of those, I'll use the 100-proof Old Grand Dad bourbon over an 80-proof rye. As for sipping ryes: Van Winkle Family Reserve is my favorite potion. For an Old-Fashioned: Old Potrero's "Single Malt Whaiskey" (they can't call it rye because it's aged in a toasted oak barrel rather than a charred one. What are your faves?

There are so many--I don't even think restaurants are quite so ephemeral as nightclubs. A couple I recall with special fondness, mostly from the early '80s: Tramps, when it was off of Union Square, for it's being a great bar where you could hear great bar music--Screamin' Jay Hawkins, like that. Club 57, on St. Mark's Place, for its pateneted version of punk-rock, junkie vaudeville. The Mudd Club. Great location, down on White St., and all kinds of fashionably weird music. Lauterbach's in Brooklyn. Like being in a roadhouse in the middle of Missouri, yet close to the R train.