slkinsey
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You should consider getting some of those little potholder "gloves" that are so you can leave them on the pot while cooking. I have one which I don't use much as it's easier to grab a towel, but my son like it and uses it all the time.
Thanks for the suggestion! I actually have one, but I normally just grab a towel (and my handles DO get hot...I guess it might be a difference of cooking style, size of flame on your stove, etc.), but I was just mentioning my desire for stainless steel handles just as a wish for at least one of the copper manufacturers to make 2.5mm stainless handle copper cookware. Also, I definitely think handles are a consideration when purchasing cookware, and people tend to forget them sometimes....performance isn't everything!
Heavy copper pots need a heavy solid metal handle to balance the pot and to provide strength when the pot is lifted because, well, heavy copper is heavy. Hollow stainless "stay cool" type handles such as those on All-Clad, Calphalon, etc. would tend to break over time due to metal fatigue. So, for heavy copper cookware it is solid metal or nothing. Believe me, you'd figure out you don't want an "All-Clad style" handle on heavy copper the minute you picked up a heavy, full pan and bent or broke off the handle.
I addressed this question (in a response to you, as it turns out
) in the Q&A thread for my eGCI cookware class here. So interested parties can see more detailed information there.There are two good reasons why copper pans do not typically have solid stainless steel handles. First and foremost, stainless is a lot more expensive to use. It adds something like forty-five to sixty dollars (US) to the price of the piece compared to iron. Think about that for a minute: instead of that eleven inch sauté pan costing $235 with an iron handle, it would cost almost three hundred bucks with a stainless steel handle. This is simply more than the majority of customers would pay to have a stainless handle. Mauviel tries to hide this cost by only offering a stainless handle on the 2.0 mm line. But if you compare the prices, you will see that a 2.0 mm stainless lined copper frypan costs more than the same frypan in 2.5 mm stainless lined copper with an iron handle. Given this cost, I don't see how a stainless handle would be a money maker.
Second, it is not the case that a stainless handle would not get hot, only that it would take longer than iron. And, once hot, a stainless handle would take longer to cool down. If you have a heavy copper sauté pan with a solid stainless handle on high heat for 30 minutes, or if you take a heavy copper frypan with a solid stainless handle out of the oven and put it on the counter, the handle is going to be plenty hot. The danger now is that you may think, "the handle is stainless so I can pick it up with my hands." I've done that, so take my word for it: If you are going to use heavy copper cookware, you are going to have solid metal handles. Get into the habit of using a towel on the handle when it gets hot.
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where's albert when we need him? sugo is literally translated as "juice". But my Italian culinary encyclopedia says (badly translated): in the language of cooking, it means that which is the "foundation" of braised meat, fish or vegetables, which can then be used to dress pasta, rice or polenta.
Lo Zingarelli says:
sugo 1. Liquid squeezed from fruit or vegetables: the sugo of orange. Synonym: succo. 2. Liquid more or less thick and with pleasant flavor produced during the cooking of food, specifically of meat: the sugo of the roast. 3. (absolute) condiment prepared with oil, butter, tomato, onion, aromatic herbs: make the sugo for the dry pasta. 4. (figurative) Substance, essence, fundamental idea.
My experience is that spremuta (literally "squeezed") is much more likely to be used to describe a raw juice than sugo. For example, one is more likely to see "spremuta d'arancia" than "sugo d'arancia," and if I saw something described as "sugo di zucchini" I would assume it was a cooked zucchini sauce rather than zucchini juice.
ragu, on the other hand, refers to meat which is cooked in a "sugo" that will be used to dress a pasta. so i guess it comes down to how big the pieces of meat are ... or whether there are pieces of meat or just the juices of the meat.Lo Zingarelli says:
ragù [fr. ragoût, from ragoûter 'to wake up the appetite', composed of ra and goût 'taste'; 1669] Condiment, specifically for pastasciutta, obtained by making fry at low temperature (soffriggere), in a chopped vegetable mixture (battuto) of onion, celery, and carrot, some beef generally ground, and then cooking on a slow fire and at length after having added tomato.
And for whatever it's worth, Lo Zingarelli also says:
salsa [from latin salsa(m), f. substantive of salsus 'salty'; 1289] Condiment more or less thick or creamy, prepared separately to add flavor to certain foods: salsa of tomato, green, piquant, white, tartar, mayonnaise | salsa dolce, preserve of tomato sweetened with sugar, diluted with vinegar and flavored (aromatizzata) with spices and herbs. | sugo, intingolo
Lo Zingarelli is generally accepted as the definitive Italian dictionary, but as with most culinary terms in a regular non-culinary dictionary (especially in Italy where there are so many regional differences in usage, etc.), it is by no means the last word in this particular case. Does add some interesting data, though, I think.
NB. Translations from Lo Zing' are mine, so to the extent that there are mistakes, it's my fault.
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I would also like to know which pieces one would choose in copper versus Paderno Grand Gourmet or Sitram Profeserie, if one had inherited a large sum of money.
In stainless lined heavy copper, it's nice to have the following
- 11 inch curved sauteuse evasée (called saucière by Falk)
- Large sauté pan (although this is also good in heavy stainless with a fat aluminum base, and having an aluminum disk bottom sauté pan might provide extra versatility if you already have an eleven inch heavy copper curved sauteuse evasée)
- Frypans in vasious sizes
- Saucepans and saucepan-sized (regular) sauteuses evasée in the sizes appropriate for making sauces and reductions (i.e., not in the larger sizes used for steaming, boiling water and reheating soups, etc.)
- I'd be tempted to get the 16 x 10 "gratin pan" as well, since it looks quite versatile.
If one had inherited enough money so that price was truly no object, I'd probably have the same pan in a few different designs (e.g., a large stainless lined heavy copper sauté pan as well as a large aluminum bottom sauté pan -- you never know when you're going to want to use two, right?)
- 11 inch curved sauteuse evasée (called saucière by Falk)
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My advice: Don't buy a lid. What's the advantage of having a stainless steel lined copper lid? For much less money, just pick up an appropriately-sized stainless steel lid.
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i've always understood sugo and ragu to be used interchangeably, depending on the region.
Yep, just like everything in Italy.
I've spent more time in Le Marche than anywhere else (Rossini festival in Pesaro), and they actually use both words, which is perhaps where my own regional bias comes in. My recollection is that sugo is mostly liquid with some small pieces of stuff in it, and that ragù is small pieces of stuff with some liquid in it. But, of course, this probably changes a hundred kilometers in either direction...
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The standard current explanation for an unusual subjective effect from this cordial concerns interaction of multiple herbs, it is certainly not from thujone alone, which as explained elsewhere is also the active component in sage.
To be honest, I am still inclined to believe it is largely psychosomatic. But I intend to pick up some bottles of Jade's absinthe as an xmas present and try it out for myself.
The last few years saw an explosion of interest in $100 imported absinthe products from people in the US (especially in their 20s). My own opinion is that many of these products are bogus (in the sense of departing from the spirit of the original Swiss-French Pernod product) but that does not stop people from buying them.If there is one thing that never ceases to amaze, it is the college-age American male's willingness to spend big bucks and/or drink horrible-tasting beverages if he thinks there is something in there that will produce a "special high." In my opinion, this is absolutely the worst reason to buy absinthe (or any alcoholic beverage).
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italians differentiate between a salsa (sauce) and ragu (gravy). the first is added to the dish, the second is intrinsic to it. an example would be a tomato salsa that is made by chopping tomatoes and adding it to the pasta at the last minute. a ragu would be made by chopping tomatoes and cooking it with braised meat for a long time (the meat would usually be served separately, the gravy would go on the pasta as a separate course).
Where does sugo fit into this? I'm away from my Zingarelli right now, but I've always known ragù as a word meaning a thick stew-like sauce.
Interesting information on this whols subject to be found here. The author seems to share my feeling that "gravy" comes from sugo. It is worthy of note that the "meat drippings and flour" sauce we call "gravy" hardly exists in Italy, and definitely not in the Southern regions from which came most of the immigrants to America.
On ragù, I found this interesting:
I checked Ragù in Antonio Piccinardi's Dizionario di Gastronomia. He says,"Ragù: A word of French origin that is applied to dishes that differ considerably, but share as a common characteristic the use of meat that's cooked for a long time in a sauce, which is generally destined to go over pasta. There are two main kinds of ragù: one is made with ground meat, and the other from a single piece of meat slowly cooked for a very long time, to which other ingredients can be added. In addition, a number of dishes typical of the southern Regions are called al ragù, for example carne al ragù or braciole al ragù, which consist of slabs of meat of varying size, rolled up around flavoring agents and cooked slowly.
The first type of ragù includes dishes of the Emilian tradition, as well as those from Bari or Sardegna, while the second group includes all the southern dishes."
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It is a matter of some dispute as to whether the wormwood or other herbal constituents absinthe have any substantial psychoactive effects over and above those of the (quite high) alcohol content. This is not to say, of course, that people who drink absinthe won't experience such effects, as the mind's ability to produce various intoxication effects based on expectation is well documented.
There are four areas to consider concerning the intoxicating effects of absinthe: alcohol, herbs, wormwood and adulterants. Fortunately for us, we only have to be concerned with the first three today with respect to commercial products.
Alcohol: Absinthe is quite high in alcohol -- often around 70%. As far as I know, people didn't start to attribute hallucinations and other psychological effects to absinthe until it started to be produced in cheap rotgut varieties for the masses. Most of the reported psychological effects of absinthe from history can probably be attributed to alcohol poisoning, especially when one considers all the non-ethyl alcohols and other contaminants (both deliberate and due to poor distilling methods) that were making their way into absinthe at this time.
Herbs: It is a fact that some herbs have a psychotropic effect, and it is possible that the various herbal infusions in absinthe could cause or contribute to a characteristic intoxication. However, there are plenty of alcoholic beverages out there infused with just about every herb under the sun (Chartreuse and Benedictine come immsdiately to mind, as do all the various Italian amari . . . as does vermouth, for that matter). Understanding that, it's hard to believe that the herbs in absinthe would make you "high."
Wormwood: The main supposed psychotropic constituent of wormwood is thujone. Thujone is a fairly powerful convulsant and is commonly supposed to be responsible for absinthe's hallucinogenic and other unique psychological and perceptual effects. Most commercial absinthes have a thujone content somewhere around 10 mg/l. This maximum level was mandated by law, although I think the maximum lavel may now be higher. One often hears claims that historical levels of thujone were along the lines of around 250 mg/l, but the latest scientific evidence seems to indicate that it was lower than 25 mg/l. In any event, the "no effect" level for thujone in animals has been found to be 12.5 mg/kg/day in scientific experiments. If we reduce that level by one hundred times to be extra safe, we get a "no effect" dose of 0.125 mg/kg/day (approximately 0.057 mg/lb/day) for humans. Working with this extremely conservative "no effect" dosage, a two hundred pound human would need 11.34 mg/day to feel anything at all. This means drinking around a liter of absinthe at 70% alcohol, and I think it's pretty clear that any effect the thujone might possibly have at that dose would be obscured by the effects of the alcohol.
Adulterants: Common adulterants of the cheap stuff were things like antimony trichloride to provide the cloudy quality and cupric acetate for the green color. It is simply amazing to read about the stuff people used to dose alcoholic beverages with back in the day. In addition, as mentioned above, old rotgut absinthes probable contained toxic contaminant levels of non-ethyl alcohols due to poor distillation practices.
To my thinking, it is most likely that the historical reported (and also overblown by the temperance movment) hallucinogenic and psychological, not to mention allegedly moral effects of absinthe were largely due to the alcohol content and adulterants/contaminants. Does this mean that the book is closed on absinthe now? Not really. It is somewhat possible, if unlikely, that there is some kind of herbal/wormwood synergy going on that has a mild psychotropic effect. Since we don't hear this about Chartreuse, etc. I think it's not likely, but it can't be ruled out. And, of course, one cannot discount the mind's own ability to produce such effects due to expectation.
Note: The Fée Verte website, which has much more interesting reading, was a primary source for the above.
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It's an old-school American-Italian thing to call it "gravy."
It should be mentioned, however, that Italian doesn't always differentiate between "sauce" and "gravy." There are two Italian words for sauce: salsa and sugo.
Thus, tomato sauce might be called salsa di pomodoro but it might also be called sugo rosso (red sauce). Sugo di carne can mean gravy in the sense that it is commonly understood in English, but it might also mean "meat sauce."
So, calling the typical long-simmered Italian-American tomato-and-meat sauce "gravy" isn't all that far from the mark.
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. . . the burger is only available for lunch anyway . . .
So you can't get it as a dinner app. Damn.
Of course not! What do you think the lamb chops are for?
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I think I wasn't clear. I meant can I construct the entire lasagna ahead of time. I wasn't sure what that would do to the balsamella.
How long do you plan to hold it?
Probably about 5 hours? If I assemble it around 2 and serve it around 7?
In that case, you should have no worries at all about anything. I thought you were thinking of making it more like 24 - 36 hours ahead of time. If it's only going to be 5 hours, I wouldn't even bother refrigerating it.
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Very interesting. I have to admit I'm a little shocked not to see my favorite on the list: Peter Luger.
Dude. You go to Peter Luger, and you have a burger?
It is a serious work of discipline not to order a steak. But the burger is only available for lunch anyway, and I've not had much success at staying conscious through the end of the business day after I've packed away a porterhouse.
Besides, sometimes you want to spend sixty dollars on lunch... sometimes you want to spend six.
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Very interesting. I have to admit I'm a little shocked not to see my favorite on the list: Peter Luger.
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I think I wasn't clear. I meant can I construct the entire lasagna ahead of time. I wasn't sure what that would do to the balsamella.
Oh! You should totally be fine with respect to the balsamella component. I probably wouldn'y try this with fresh pasta lasagne al forno, but it should work fine with dry pasta. How long do you plan to hold it?
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I think there is a big difference between glutamate being a potential migrane trigger, which seems quite reasonable to me, and the existence of an "MSG syndrome" that only seems to happen at Chinese restaurants for 95% of those who report it.
One difference between "MSG syndrome" and your lactose intolerance strawman is that lactose intolerance is a documented and understood phenomenon whose existence is not, as far as I know, disputed in the medical community. I am reminded, however, of when Steingarten referenced a study showing that only around 1/3 of claimed lactose intolerants actually tested positive for lactose intolerance, and that allmost all of the true lactose intolerants were able to consume as much as a glass of milk without experiencing any symptoms.
So, I'm not saying that there is absolutely no such thing as a person who experiences adverse effects from glutamate. I just don't think it's nearly as widespread as it appears to be, and I think there is a large percentage of "false positives." In addition, I think there are be any number of other elements that could cause or contributing to the reported symptoms in Chinese restaurants and that it is only the fact that people associate Chinese food with MSG that causes so many to leap to the conclusion that they have "MSG syndrome." On the other hand, anyone who triggers a migraine after eating an ounce of aged Parmigiano-Reggiano -- and I have no problem believing that such people exist -- probably does have a sensitivity to glutamate.
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You can totally make it ahead of time. It will be more "pudding like" right out of the refrigerator, but you can just blop it on there and it will melt in the heat of the oven.
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Some Googling indicates that the technical term for this style of chopping block is "end grain bamboo" and that it is, by whatever method they measure such things, exactly 16% harder than maple.
I've read comments here on eGullet and elsewhere that bamboo is too hard on knives but if it's only 16-percent harder, it seems that concern would be mute. I rather like that chopping block.
I'm guessing, based on observation, that there are both different varieties of bamboo (that we all know) and that, as FG has said, different parts of the bamboo are used for different things. For example, you don't see exposed grain on scaffolding (as you do with the cutting board) because it would be too soft. Going on deductive reasoning, I'm guessing that the discussions about bamboo being too tough on knives are in reference to either a different variety or a different part of the bamboo--interior versus exterior. I have some pictures from Yangshuo of buildings with bamboo scaffolding and I’ll get one up later today. I may also have a photo of one of these cutting boards after being “broken in” -- and while a cleaver is the “knife” of choice in most Chinese kitchens I saw, the cutting boards had a healthy depression in the center from the use.
Bamboo would be hard on knives when deployed in "cross grain" rather than "end grain" fashion in a cutting board. Indeed, most any wood will be bad for a knife's edge in "cross grain" orientation. My superficial examination of Ellen's bamboo cutting board suggests that it's harder than my maple end grain cutting boards, but still somewhat softer than the typical "cross grain" cutting board.
Ellen's last remark may be a telling one. The Chinese cleaver is the typical cutting implement used with this style of cutting board, and the typical action a chopping one. This style of use may benefit from a harder cutting surface material.
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When I was searching for something to do with Stone’s Ginger Wine, I came across the Apple Ginger Sangaree on Cocktaildb.com. As I recall it was quite good, even better when I remembered to add the nutmeg.
Sounds tasty, and who could resist something so old as to be called a "sangaree," I ask you?
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An interesting article in today's New York Times about Calvados:
They don't talk about Calvados sidecars, but the information is excellent and the tasting notes quite helpful.
Actually, Calvados sidecars are mentioned, and ultimately brushed off by none other than King Cocktail Dale DeGroff himself:
"The don't lend themselves to cocktails," he said. "They just come through too strongly."
The same paragraph then goes on to assert that the Jack Rose calls for Calvados. Seems to me I've always thought the Jack Rose calls for Apple Jack. That's how I always make 'em, anyway.
As far as I know, calvados, Cointreau and lemon juice was named the Royal Jubilee back in the day by none other than Harry Craddock. And, yea, also as far as I know, the Jack Rose is made with applejack.
I don't know about using calvados as the sole base spirit in a cocktail, but the calvados boost in Audrey's Tantris Sidecar makes a world of difference without overpowering.
Very cool article, though. I agree with the authors that some of the younger, less expensive calvados bottlings can actually be better and taste more strongly of apples.
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So... I purchased a copy of this book a few weeks ago and have read through it a few times. It's a good book and well-written for the most part. In essence, it features short descriptions of 100 bars, including a number of restaurant bars, along with a description and recipe for what the author feels is an outstanding cocktail from that bar.
One good reason to buy the book is that it brings a lot of NYC bars to one's attention that might otherwise be overlooked. With a list of 100 bars, there are sure to be a few off the radar of even the most dedicated barhound. Featured are hotel bars like The King Cole Bar and Lounge at the St. Regis and Bemelmans Bar at the Carlyle, restaurant bars like Calle Ocho and Beacon and standalone places like Flatiron Lounge and Boxcar Lounge. Notwithstanding what is, in my opinion, the unfortunate omission of Angel's Share, wd-50 and Milk and Honey, Cocktails in New York is a nicely comprehensive survey of most of the cool places to go for a well-crafted drink in the City.
The book is divided in to 8 sections: Proven Classics, New Standards, Cosmo Capital, Mixologist Made, Creative License, Secret Ingredients, House Spirits and Liquid Desserts.
The Proven Classics section, as one might imagine, includes such cocktails as the Martini, Manhattan and Sidecar. Most any cocktail enthusiast will be familiar with all the cocktails in this section, so it is mostly interesting for the descriptions of bars like The Four Seasons bar, Old Town Bar & Grill, the bar at Patroon and others. My only quibble with this section is that it includes Campbell Apartment's Prohibition Punch, which due to its recent provenance hardly belongs alongside the true "proven classics" in this section. It was also disappointing to the purist to see the Monkey Bar's non-classic Manhattan made with Jack Daniel's Single Barrel Whiskey rather than bourbon or, preferably, rye. That said, one assumes that the author was (rightfully) obliged to write the recipes the way the bartenders mixed the drinks (more on this later).
Next is the New Standards section. This features drinks like Suba's Spanish Manhattan (Maker’s Mark, oloroso sherry and Peychaud's bitters) Tribeca' Grill's Greenwich Fizz (gin, maraschino, lime juice and ginger ale) and Fifty Seven Fifty Seven Bar's Bigger Apple Martini. There are several great new drinks in this section. In particular, the aforementioned Spanish Manhattan and Greenwich Fizz caught my eye, as well as Schiller Liquor Bar's New York Sour (blended whiskey, lemon juice, simple syrup, red wine and a touch of orange juice) and Blue Ribbon's Pear Martini (Belle de Brillet, Absolut Citron and lime juice). I'm not quite sure why this section is called "New Standards" though. Several of the drinks, notably the Mojito, Rum Julep, Pisco Sour and Caipirinha, hardly strike me as "new" cocktails, and I would hesitate to call the others "standards" (with the possible exception of the "Dark and Stormy"). This is not to say that they aren't appealing drinks, however, just that their placement in this chapter seems odd to me. Strangely, in the section on City Hall's Rum Julep, the author writes: ". . . this isn't a 'proper' Julep in the Kentucky Derby sense -- where bourbon is mandatory . . ." As far as I know, mint juleps have been made with bourbon, rum, applejack, brandy, rye and even gin since the very beginning. Other than the use of a flavored rum (Bacardi Limón), the version presented seems relatively traditional.
Next is the chapter called "Cosmo Capital." As one might imagine, it consists of seven variations on the Cosmopolitan. Interestingly, the Cosmo is the only post-Prohibition cocktail that so far seems like a "new standard" with staying power.
Following is a very interesting chapter entitled "Mixologist Made." All cocktails are "mixologist made" when it comes down to it, but I suppose this title is an indication that the drinks were conceived by noteworthy figures in today's NYC cocktail world. Featured are Audrey Saunders' Tantris Sidecar at Bemelmans Bar, Julie Reiner's Cherry Smash from Flatiron Lounge and Jerri Banks's Indian Rose at Taj. among several other interesting concoctions. A very interesting look at what some of the "new old school" are doing in NYC.
The Creative License chapter is another one where I'm not quite sure about the organizing principle. Nevertheless, there are some very interesting drinks here. The Spring Fling from Mark's Bar (silver tequila, triple sec, orange juice and pineapple juice on the rocks) sounds like a winner to me, as do Beacon's Kentucky Pear (Jim Beam Black, Poire William, simple syrup, lemon juice and splash of cranberry on the rocks) and Craftbar's Basil-Mint Mojito. I'm even tempted to try Cherry's Wet Water Martini (Beefeater Wet, Chambord and Power-C Vitamin Water) despite the "club kid" last ingredient.
Moving on we reach the chapter on "Secret Ingredients," featuring drinks with unusual or unsuspected constituents. Among the standouts for me were Town's Convent in Chile (kumquats, brown sugar, lime juice, Charbay Blood Orange vodka and splashes of grapefruit and cranberry), Biltmore Room's Way of the Dragon (Hangar One Mandarin Blossom, kalamansi lime juice, honey, mint leaves, sour mix and cayenne pepper) and Babbo's Cin-Cyn (Junipero gin, Cinzano sweet vermouth, Cynar, orange bitters and a splash of orange juice).
Coming into the home stretch is a chapter on House Spirits with twelve house-branded cocktails from various watering holes, and the final chapter on Liquid Desserts which features sweet cocktails. Some drinks that caught my eye were Stone Rose’s eponymous cocktail (Woodford Reserve bourbon, Grand Mariner, cranberry juice and a touch of sour mix and simple syrup) and First’s Apple Core (apple vodka, Berentzen Apfelkorn apple schnapps, lemon juice, a splash of cider and a top of apple foam).
If I have one criticism of Cocktails in New York it is that I didn’t find quite as many cocktail recipes that appealed to me as I had hoped I might. This is undoubtedly a reflection of what people are making rather than any fault of the author. The book opens with a nice forward by Tony Abou-Ganim, who writes: “A cocktail should, first and foremost, focus on the base spirit.” This accords one hundred percent with my own preference when it comes to cocktails. Unfortunately for me, cocktails like Cibar’s Suffering Bastard, which contains Captain Morgan’s spiced rum, Malibu rum, Myers rum, high proof rum, pineapple juice, orange juice and cranberry juice were not all that uncommon. This is, needless to say, not a cocktail that focuses on the base spirit. Another disappointment for me was that around forty percent of the cocktails had a vodka base and vodka is, I think, the least preferred liquor upon which to found a cocktail. Some of the vodka cocktails were interesting, but it’s hard for me to get excited about something like Jean-George’s Frostbite, which is simply vodka mixed with icewine. On the other hand, Cocktails in New York is really only half about the cocktail recipes anyway, so there was still plenty there to hold my interest.
All in all, this is a very nice book for those seeking new spots of interest in NYC’s cocktail scene. Not for nothing is New York an epicenter of the new cocktail renaissance. But beyond that, Cocktails in New York should appeal to most any home cocktail enthusiast with well written, interesting vignettes and a wide variety of recipes. The various indices at the back of the book are, as one would expect, informative and easy to reference. Anthony Giglio is an eGullet Society member, and I’d love to hear his thoughts.
NB. Although I provided some ingredient lists for various cocktails, I deliberately did not post any formulae from the book. You gotta buy the book for those.
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At this point, I think we've sufficiently touched on the issue of Scalini Fedeli posting the Zagat review from their NJ restaurant in the NYC location, which seems to have happened more than a few years ago anyway. So let's move on.
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As a side note, the Saveur article gives a provenance of this drink: Shephard's Hotel in Cairo.
Interesting. Dave's book credits the Cairo hotel as well, but gives the bourbon/gin version.
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Here's a phonetic "cousin" (my term; a word that follows the same pronunciation pattern)... Maraschino. Correctly pronounced, it is Mar-i-skino.
I'll go you one further and suggest that it is pronounced: ma-ra-SKI-no (with a "ra" rather than a "ri" on the second syllable).
Latte. I didn't know that the proper term was cafe latte, until I went to an old-school coffee shop in the Italian part of town and ordered an iced latte. The waiter looked at me strangely, then brought me a glass of milk with ice cubes in it.The more common term in an Italian bar would be latte macchiato, which means "stained milk" -- the idea being that the milk is "stained" by adding a tiny bit of coffee. There is also caffè macchiato, or "stained coffee" in which the coffee is "stained" with a tiny bit of milk. Somehow in American Starbucks-speak, "macchiato" has come to mean a large mostly milk drink with a little coffee and various syrups added, and "latte" has come to mean "a gigantic latte macchiato." Starbucks has also promulgated the misconception that macchiato means "marked" instead of "stained" (in fact, "marked" is probably best translated as segnato).
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your key words: "to my way of thinking", "IMO", "to me", "to my mind", "i'm looking for"; are just that - what interests YOU.
i described my thoughts as to what i believe a french bistro should encompass in nyc, & was careful to avoid any view that others should feel the same. everyone is entitled to their opinion as to what constitutes a nyc french bistro. to describe these as "affectations" or a "disneyland bistro" is bizarre. one man's thoughts or opinions are not anothers idea; however, its clear the topic i'm discussing is something a little more subtle than perhaps your critique, but thanks anyway for opening up the discussion.
jgould, I wouldn't have put in "IMO" and those other qualifiers you cite had I not meant to express something that is my opinion as it relates to me.
If you don't want to address my points as to slavishly reproducing in NYC a French bistro as it is in France, that's your own call. But it's not as interesting as not taking offense and continuing the conversation.
The Eighteenth Century Cocktail
in Spirits & Cocktails
Posted
Many of us are familiar with the Twentieth Century Cocktail, which is made with gin, Lillet blonde, lemon juice and white crème de cacao. It's an interesting drink because it starts out as a nice lemony gin sour, but then has the unexpected cacao finish.
Anyway... a while back I was over at Fat Guy's place and we were poking around in his liquor cabinet trying to think of something to mix up. I noticed that he had some nice dark rum, Cointreau and plenty of limes, and thought they had the makings of a good cocktail. He had some white crème de cacao, and I thought it might be fun to put in a dash of that as well. Well, I was right. Turns out it's pretty good. After some experimentation, I've settled on the following:
1.5 oz : Myer's Original Dark rum (or other Jamaican dark rum)
1.0 oz : Cointreau
0.5 oz : fresh lime juice
0.25 oz : white crème de cacao
Shake well with cracked ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. I haven't thought of a good garnish yet.
Ordinarily I wouldn't have a drink with 1.25 ounces of modifiers to only 1.5 ounces of the base spirit, but Myer's has a very full and rich flavor that has no trouble making its presence felt. In taste, the drink has much in common with the Twentieth Century Cocktail: it starts off as a dark rum sour, and then has a somewhat unexpected cacao finish. Rum and cacao isn't nearly as unexpected as gin and cacao, of course, but it's the general idea. I decided to call it the Eighteenth Century Cocktail to pay homage to the Twentieth Century Cocktail, and because rum was the liquor of the 18th century.
Give it a try.