Splificator

First of all, thanks for the kind words and support! It means a lot to the poor struggling author. Even if he's just struggling with deadlines. And yes, "Vino Vermouth" is red/sweet/Italian vermouth. It used to say that on the label, under the brand. I've got a picture somewhere; I'll post it if I can find it, which is by no means a sure bet.

[NB. Lists of ingredients are fair use] ← I tried this recipe. just didn't work, imo.... ← "Adapted" is a hell of a word. This recipe, which is supposedly adapted from my recipe for Swedish Punch, is in fact adapted from my recipe for Arrack Punch (by "my" I mean I stole it from Jerry Thomas, who stole it in turn from William Maginn's Maxims of O'Doherty). Two different drinks. This one is meant for drinking, not using as a liqueur, although I'd leave out the cardamom (nutmeg's ok) and would use a richer rum than the excellent, but far too lean, Neisson (Lemon Hart or Coruba work well). Oh, and I'd make it with 1 1/2 oz arrack, 1 oz rum and 1/2 oz lime juice. And the simple syrup should be rich. Other than that, it's how I make it. Made thus, this is one of my favorite drinks. For Swedish Punch, one should use Jerry Thomas' second recipe for Arrack Punch (the one titled "another method"). Here it is: Edited 'cause I was repeating myself.

Preciso, as we say in Italian. All cocktail stuff or no cocktail stuff, either way is defensible, at least theoretically. But half? A deplorable lack of commitment.

My friend, we have to sit down one of these days and have a serious talk about priorities.

Gee, let's see. Summer of what, 2004? Seeing as I lack a detailed recollection of what I did last month, this'll have to be highly approximate. The Everclear was incorporated into the syrup, since these were definitely batches that were in use--not with pour spouts, but frequently opened to access the contents, thus allowing the native aerial flora of Boerum Hill full access to the sweet liquid therein. (I could not refrigerate them because I have a family and my family eats food and some of that food requires refrigeration, thus taking up valuable booze-geek space.) The bottles were originally clean, though, and anyone who intimates otherwise must be prepared to defend his slanderous words on the field of honor. Beyond that deponent sayeth not.

I hasten to add that I have not seen, much less done scientific studies of this. But I started doing it one particularly hot summer when I was having problems with my syrup (2:1) growing mold: out of 3 or 4 batches, at least two sprouted disgusting black flecks when stored at room temperature. Subsequent batches, prepared with a little Everclear, proved perfectly stable. Hence my suggestion. In preparing fruit syrups, I like to begin with that same 2:1 ratio, for precisely the reason identified above: the sugar draws out a considerable amount of moisture from the fruit. When making raspberry syrup, I'll use 2 of the standard small containers of raspberries to a pound (2 cups) of sugar and a cup of water. I melt the sugar over low heat, remove it from the heat and stir in the berries, mashing them around quite a bit. Then it goes through a fine-mesh strainer and into a Tupperware thingie, which goes into the fridge. After a day or so, all the pectin will float to the top--at least, that's what I think it is. Anyway, there's all this cloudy stuff which should be skimmed off. The resulting syrup will be very clear and bright red, with a nice, clean raspberry flavor. It will keep for at least a month if refrigerated. For Pisco Punch, it's essential to begin with a 2:1 syrup, as pineapples throw off a good deal of juice. I usually make the pineapple syrup at room temperature, dicing a pinapple and putting it in enough syrup to cover. This is left overnight, at room temperature unless it's very hot out (this stuff wants to ferment).

Thanks again all for the kind words--very much appreciated indeed! Portland was great (I remember it in the 1970s, when it was pretty grim; what a transformation!). And nice to meet you, Scottos--next time, let's chat. And yes, I meant to strain the Improved Brandy Cocktail I made for Mr. O'Brien, but ran out of time. Funny, the 8-plus minutes my bit lasted seemed to me as I was doing it like about a minute and a half. There's your Theory of Relativity, right there. And Katie--I hope to get to Philly soon, but have nothing on the books yet. Too bad they moved the Book & the Cook to the Fall!

That, my friends, is everything I love about bars, bartenders and the American art of the mixed drink, all rolled up, stuck into a bag and pounded with a bung-starter.

That's the very one (and thanks for the kind words!). William Schmidt invented a lot of drinks--in fact, he was running a new-drink-every-day thing at his bar for a while there in the 1890s. By apple whiskey he of course means applejack; 1 drink = 2 oz, 1 pony = 1 oz. And thanks, Mitch, for the correction. I'm doing things at Astor Center on the 17th and the 18th and I got them well and truly muddled. I have fixed it. Friday the 18th it is.

Hey, thanks all for the kind words and support (and I'm still trying to figure out which book I snagged that jack Frost Sour from ,so I can give the full formula). Loth as I am to engage in shameless self-promotion, I'll be speaking next Friday (January 18th) at the fabulous new Astor Center in New York about Jerry Thomas and his drink. I'll talk about a bunch of things that didn't make it into the and demonstrate a few of the more arcane of his drinks and one or two that aren't in the book (generous samples will of course be provided). Here's a link: Drinking with the Professor It'll be fun! Edited for d'oh!

Duffy gives the drink's correct name; it was created by Frank Meier of the Ritz in Paris for Cole Porter (C.P., thus "Seapea") some time in the 1930s, ironically as a use for the new Pernod absinthe substitute.

Sir, you speak the language of my tribe.

My question stands.

There's a bad way?

It's ba-a-a-a-a-ck! Esquire's Drinks Database Full illustrations on their way, along with videos, comments, blogging and all the other ups and extras of the web as we have come to know it. Oh, and the various--me paenet dicendi--historical and mixological inaccuracies that it contains (it was, after all, written between January, 2000 and January, 2003) will be ironed out over time. Most of 'em, anyway. Functionality? Excellent. Edited to correct the usual sloppy typing.

Sadly, I have to agree with Sam and Toby et al. here. Drastic times demand drastic measures. If P.G. Wodehouse and Raymond Chandler were required reading in high school (is grade school too early?), then maybe civilized bars wouldn't have to resort to writing down the (formerly) unwritten code that used to govern how one behaves in a bar and shove it under their customers' noses. But people don't know, because nobody ever told them (that might impair their self-esteem, and we can't have that, can we?), and so there, in loco parentis, stands the bartender. (Shades of Slim Gaillard's song, way back in the be-bop era, "The Bartender's Just Like a Mother.") Would that it weren't so, but it is.

This is just an update of the electric drink mixers they used to have in the 1930s (I belive Waring made those, too). Those weren't too dopey for the famed Floridita in Havana, which had several, and if Constantino (hands down one of the greatest bartender/mixologists in the history of the profession) thought there was some utility to it.... That said, I'm in no rush.

That would be from Jacques Straub's Drinks; it's clearly a different tipple. Aviation was new at the time, and it should come as no surprise that it spawned more than one cocktail with which to toast it (this may go some distance towards explaining the high attrition rate among early aviators).

Not so fast. There is nothing so variable as a dash. Cf. E. Ricket & C. Thomas, The Gentleman's Table Guide (London: 1871), p. 40: Some bartender/mixographers may have kept everything in an array of dasher-top bitters bottles, but it's clear that others did not. But this is why interpreting old recipes is an art (albeit a minor one), rather than a science.

Ok, so impeccably clean distillation, a refusal to abandon the full, traditional proof and a fearless embrace of the juniper berry are now indictable offenses? I'll make a note.

Ok, so some quick spadework yields the following: Drioli (the oldest maker, Francesco Drioli having got into the business in 1759) and indeed all the maraschino distilleries were bombed to smithereens in World War II. After the war, Drioli and Luxardo relocated to the Veneto. Drioli shut its doors in the early 1970s. Luxardo soldiers on.

AFAIK, Luxardo was always the standard (the brand goes back 150+ years). More research needed, though.

I find Maraska to be much closer to a sweetened kirschwasser than to the gloriously weird concatenation of funk that is the Luxardo. Not band by any means, though. But it definitely tastes like cherries.

Being neither an investor nor a Republican, I don't subscribe to the Wall Street Journal, and hence seldom get a chance to read the fine cocktail column Eric Felten writes for that paper (it doesn't help that the column is archived online behind a members-only firewall). I was therefore very pleased to pick up How's Your Drink? Cocktails, Culture, and the Art of Drinking Well, Felten's new book, in which he weaves a number of his columns toghether into a looseish narrative covering the history of the cocktail in ten chapters, with recipes. It's well written, well researched, sound on the basics and contains many anecdotes that were new to me. I might disagree on one or two points of mixology (I know that lime in a Dark & Stormy is un-Bermudian, but I think it nonetheless improves the drink and I'll take the standard Boston shaker any day over the Art-Deco glass centrepieces Felten prefers), but that hardly detracted from my enjoyment of the book. Highly recommended.

I hate to disagree with you, Sam, but I have to go with Erik on this one. I've found that a longish but very gentle shake works best with mint for me. It brings out the clean, floral notes ond obviates the need to double strain. When I shake the bejeezus out of mint, it always turns the drink brackish and bitter.