Chris Amirault

I can imagine the following happening. Let's say that a cocktail blogger that has made a stated commitment to this code consistently pushes Joe Agave premium tequila as the best. This code would require that the blogger state his or her relationship to Joe Agave up front (I have none; I went to Aspen on their dime; I design recipes for them; I'm in ads for them), which would be a very big change from current practice on many websites. In addition, the code would require that s/he address any questions raised in their feedback section and make corrections to the record if things change. If the person says nothing at all about Joe Agave, or if the person refuses to answer questions about Joe Agave, s/he is clearly violating the code. And, believe me, news about these sorts of things travels quickly, if quietly, around the cocktail world, and reputations would be stained. Sure, some people wouldn't care, and some people wouldn't notice. But, at least in this instance, I'm sure that a lot of people would both notice and care. The code could become a guide to creating and maintaining the integrity that's important to many (though not all, for sure) in the profession. ET fix grammar -- CA

Like Chris H, I use it a lot and am happy with it. (Firing it up this weekend, in fact.) Like him, no modifications per say. Here are the adjustments I've made: I tossed out the water pan that comes with the unit and use a stainless hotel pan that holds more water. I found that the smaller circular pan required too much poking around of pucks; they'll stack and thus keep burning if you're not careful. After too many weather changes creating problems, I put the whole thing on a rolling cart that sits at the edge of my garage when the smoker is operating. That way, I can just roll it in or out as the weather shifts. I never do "set it and forget it" if the heating element is in use. I don't trust it or the water pan enough. I always crack the top vent to allow smoke to escape. I found that closing it often creates condensation that drips from the vent onto the product -- and often left a black mark on it. I clean the grates immediately. No small thing, given my proclivities, but worth mentioning, since there's a lot of salt in many of the things I smoke and that corrodes the grates. (I also replaced the grates with nonstick jerky grates, to excellent effect. Grab 'em.) I've had no "puck problems" -- to what do you refer exactly? And I agree with Chris H that a PID is a waste. If you're anything other than a complete neatnik, you want a tarp under it. The stainless steel rolling cart I have is blackened with junk, and that water tray has to be very shallow to fit under the puck heating element.

But knowing you're receiving special treatment does not allow you to know why you're receiving special treatment. Unless you have a means to understand motives that the rest of the world lacks.

It make not be the same sense, but I think it still makes sense to disclose. Why don't you? Well, but so are salted nuts, and they aren't comps. How about the single tastes of things? Would you disclose each of those? I can't really understand how I can know why a bartender is filling my salted nut bowl up more often than usual: because he's building good will, or because he remembers me as a writer from an earlier conversation, or what.

In topics both current and archived we've hashed over the question of comped meals and the relationship that reviewers, tippers, and others should have to those meals. I'm here to ask a more basic question: what, exactly, is a comp? Something free, yes, I get that part. But what is that free thing? Thanks to a recent trip to Portland OR, I've been wondering about that. As I documented here, I had a great time enjoying a variety of food and drink at Clyde Common and Teardrop Lounge. But when I was writing up the post, I realized that I wasn't sure how to describe the comps -- or which things were or were not comps. Here's a simple list drawn from my own experience and focused on cocktails, starting from the smallest to the biggest. A straw taste of a drink being prepared. This is a common habit of good bartenders who want to make sure that the cocktail is as it should be: poke a straw into a drink, place your finger over the straw, and then put the straw in your mouth, releasing an inch or two of the drink. If you act sufficiently like a baby bird and lean over in the bartender's direction, sometimes they'll dribble a bit of the elixir down your gullet. Single samples of various items, both homemade and purchased, probably an ounce or so each, often accompanied by "You gotta try this...." A "flight" of samples -- at Teardrop, that meant four different locally distilled vodkas, also about an ounce each. An experiment: a one-off that a bartender puts together on the spot in accordance with your wishes, her whim, and whatever wacky ideas you've both got cooking. Sometimes these are knock-outs, forcing you and the bartender to scribble the recipe madly onto a coaster; sometimes they're one sip and done, no hard feelings. A menu item in development that needs a critique. A "thanks for being such an eager, interested cocktail enthusiast" nightcap. One bartender explained this as quid pro quo: I had made his evening a lot more fun, so in exchange he offered something in return. A lot of these things are very common practice at quality cocktail bars, fundamentally social environments where interested parties can spend hours at a time talking about whether the homemade Amer Picon tastes like the original or the proper balance on a Sidecar. Though restaurant tables are, for the most part, far less social, I suspect that you could come up with a similar list of food items, especially if you're at a kitchen table or have been chatting with an eager chef throughout the meal. So, thinking about 1-6 above and their food equivalents: Comp or not comp?

Neither do bartenders who want to make money. Customer first, all that. Two side notes. At many bars I've frequented -- including Teardrop and Clyde in Portland earlier this month -- it was the patrons and not the bartenders who encouraged expanding past vodka. I was drinking one of Morgenthaler's White Ladies at the end of a meal and shared it with two people who had ordered vodka drinks. No harm done: I can proselytize without hurting my bottom line; the customer gets the drink she or he wants without a sneer. Also, a bartender told me the other day that that, when they're slammed, he's happy to cross an order off his list when it's two vodka martinis. Takes 15 seconds to make and it's off the stick. Some wiseass's Ramos Gin Fizz, on the other hand....

It freezes! Of course! Genius!

I agree with Chris H -- though I can't tell you what effect the skin has in cooking since I remove it for use with beans, collards, and the like. Yum.

Green or yellow Chartreuse?

I wish I thought that strange or wrong, but I don't.

Thanks for the photos. Can you say more about the lardo? How are the different varieties cured?

Over 200F for sure, but it's a feel and not a temp thing: it pulls when it pulls. That's one of the benefits of a bone: when you can rotate the bone in its socket, you're done.

I spent two nights under the care of the folks at Clyde Common in Portland OR, with a bar run by the estimable Jeffrey Morgenthaler. In the course of probably six or seven hours I watched the team make carefully constructed vodka drinks for anyone who asked. No smirks, no "If you like this then you'll like that" suggestions. They just poured the Grey Goose over the rocks and handed it over the stick with a smile. Meanwhile, they were making me damned awesome drinks that rival the best bars in the country. I'll admit that I gave one vodka martini drinker a taste of my drink because he was all curious about the crazy spirits Jeff was pouring, but Jeff never suggested that the vodka drinkers deserved a Bud Light for their idiocy. So while I like the idea of giving the heathen the what for, I think it's stupid business. I'm no fool: I know that those GGs were subsidizing the cocktails I was getting.

that sounds so my style... i have everything but the looza... whole foods? ← Ocean State Job Lot. Seriously.

Just made a New Pal, which they see as an Old Pal variation and I see as a Negroni variation. Either way, it's tasty, even if you're lacking orange and flame up a lemon: 1 oz rye (Rittenhouse BIB) 1 oz Campari 1 oz sweet vermouth (Punt e Mes) 1 dash Peychaud's 2 dashes Herbsaint Stir, strain, flamed orange rind (lemon works too). Rub the rind on the rim, whatever it is.

Just be sure to tie it, or else suffer the horror of the exposed butt crack. Given your comment about tenderness, I must ask: did it really pull? If not, you may have needed to let it get up above 200F. You want that ropy collapse; you shouldn't have to do much besides squeeze the meat between your fingers to get it to separate into strands.

I had a surprising vodka incident recently at, of all places, the Teardrop Lounge in Portland OR, which I'd rank in the top five cocktail bars I've ever visited. While I was making my way through just about everything they had in the place, Dan Shoemaker set up a vodka tasting for me. The variety in mouthfeel and flavor really took me by surprise, and a couple were terrific. (No notes, sadly, though the one distilled from honey made something of an impression.) Having said that, the experience was interesting primarily because I was doing a flight of them and could compare one to the next. As a cocktail ingredient or standing alone as a shot or sipper, for me even those excellent vodkas would make for a waste of a perfectly good round.

I grabbed some Looza passion fruit juice today and, fortuitously, spied a recipe on the vO bottle for "Bali Passion." Stupid name, but a great tiki-esque sour. Because the Looza is a bit tart, I sweetened the following up with a dash of cane syrup: 2 oz passion fruit juice 1 oz Batavia arrack 1 oz demerara rum (Lemon Hart) 1 oz lime juice dash Angostura I served it over rocks in a tiki mug with a big straw. Yum.

Well-wrapped, for weeks and weeks.

Thanks for the fix, Rocky -- and sorry, David. I guess my scrawled handwriting indicates a bigger lightweight than first suggested.

I have been finding the La Botija Tabernero pisco quebranta to resemble a genever-style gin, and so, following Dave Wondrich following Jerry Thomas, I made an Improved Pisco Cocktail using Kubler absinthe, Luxardo maraschino, Angostura, and the pisco. It can't quite hold its own the way that, say, Genevieve can, but it's still an interesting experiment.

The olive-oil poached octopus and the seared cod that I mention in the post linked above were both outstanding, as good as any octopus or cod dishes I've had. The lamb belly was also excellent.

I strongly recommend Clyde Common.

On my recent trip, with less time on my hands than I'd have liked, I devoted one full evening each to drinks at Clyde Common, where Jeff Morgenthaler is now holding court, and at Teardrop Lounge, where I enjoyed the work of the estimable trio of Dan Shoemaker, Ted Charak, and Daniel Shenaut. (Allison Dykes was also behind the stick but didn't make me any drinks, sadly -- not that I wasn't putting my head back frequently.) Both bars are serving world-class drinks from terrific bartenders who are really nice people to boot. Clyde Common I have no idea what was happening at Clyde Common before Jeff recently arrived, but his uber-professional sensibility, mad skills, and terrific demeanor set the tone there now. (Props to Nate Tilden, proprietor, who brought Jeff up from Eugene and who gives a great BOH tour. I'll never tell where the super-old Pappy is, Nate.) Though he moves very quickly on a busy night, Jeff measures, tastes, and adjusts every single drink that goes out, and not just the cocktailian brews. His team's ability to handle a wide array of personalities was pretty impressive, too, never anything but friendly no matter the drink order and appropriately explicit with the drunks. The drinks were all stellar. (Jason Barwikowski's food was great, too, especially the cocktail-friendly food I focused on: confit lamb belly, olive oil poached octopus, and one of the best cod dishes -- seared with razor clams and pickled celery -- I've ever had.) I really loved the Norwegian Wood (Krogstad aquavit, Laird's applejack, Cinzano rosso, yellow Chartreuse, Angostura) and think it would be off-the-charts good if Jeff had access to BIB Laird's. I also thought that the Bittersweet Symphony (Martin Miller, Aperol, Punt e Mes) was note-perfect, and Jeff's version of an Old Fashioned using the Evan Williams 1998 (from CC's remarkable rye list) was the best I've ever had, a truly superior match of spirit and preparation. Teardrop Lounge I think I'm in love with Dan Shoemaker (and not -- full disclosure -- because he comped a drink or two). If it didn't happen when he said, "When I decided I had to open this place, eGullet taught me everything," it happened the moment when he handed me his version of an Improved Gin Cocktail, a breaktaking glass featuring Hayman's Old Tom gin and Marteau absinthe. In its evocation of both the classic lessons of the past and the remarkable state of the craft today, it was the most memorable cocktail I've ever had, and I'm damned if I can give you a word more description than that. Dan, Ted, and Daniel have a passion for cocktails that would be somewhat hard to believe if their drinks didn't deliver on every promise, implied or otherwise. Over the course of my evening, I enjoyed samples of homemade libations including dry vermouth, Amer Picon, tonic water, grenadine, creme de cacao, ginger beer, kummel, and several tinctures, including costus and pau d'arco; a vodka flight, including one distilled from honey, that changed my mind about what vodka could be; eau d'Amis; and a gin flight. I also had cocktails: a September Morn; a Modus Operandi (Sazerac rye, Amaro Nonino, Carpano Antica, sasparilla & clove tintures, Pau d’Arco bitters); a Dizzy Sour, with Depaz blue cane rhum, Sazerac rye, Bénédictine, lemon, and sugar; and a Sandcastles in the Sky, with Glenfarclas 12 year, Bénédictine, floc de gascogne, Marteau absinthe, and citrus oil. It was the most astonishing series of cocktails I've ever had, each topping the previous. I can't imagine better drinks than these. I closed the evening with an on-the-spot invention by Daniel with Hayman's St. Germain, Dolin dry, orange flower water, and an orange twist; he called it an Ephemeral Cocktail, but it lingered well after I wandered out onto the Portland streets, as has the memory of that wonderful evening. * * * * * The two places are very different: Clyde Commons evokes an old, wood-grain Portland that probably never existed, with a bar set to the side of the main show in the dining room and open kitchen; Teardrop Lounge is all 21-century cocktail bar, with the well, the "droplet" shelf, and even the walls oozing tinctures, projects, books, and barrels. Coming from a town with not one solid choice for a quality bar, I would be happy in Portland never having to make a decision about which was better, given how fantastic both are.

Richard, the manager told me that they'd do special mail orders, but I don't know how to go about doing that. Andy, for reasons I cannot explain, I have had it in my head that the W&N is 151 proof. You're right: it's 126. I blame the yohimbe.