Stuff

I received a bottle of this gin as a birthday present from our friend Sue (thanks, Sue!). I had never heard anything of the brand, positive or negative, so I was completely unsure what to expect.

This gin has  a fragrant, foresty nose, full of juniper. It reminded me on first sniff of the familiar smell of Tanqueray. It’s aromatic quality would seem to make this gin a natural choice for dry martinis.

However, it was a hot evening here in Oakland, and we were in the market for more a refreshing, thirst-quenching drink. It’s hard to go wrong with a gin and tonic, and it’s usually a bad sign when a gin doesn’t work in that most venerable of gin cocktails (though not always! See Hendricks).

Given the scent of the gin, and the “London Dry” appellation, I was expecting a conventional flavor, a la Beefeater. However, Jen and I both found Miller’s to be uniquely tasty. It has a strong suggestion of cucumber that combines quite pleasantly with the tonic, and which adds to the drink’s coolness.

I give this gin four stars. Cheers!

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This drink is a variation on the Bronx cocktail, which is itself a variation of the perfect martini, which in turn is a variation on earlier martini recipes. But none of those cocktails is such an obvious shoo-in to serve as a refreshment on the ides of April.

1 1/2 oz. gin

1/2 oz. dry vermouth

1/2 oz. sweet vermouth

3/4 oz. fresh-squeezed orange juice

1 or 2 dashes Angostura bitters

Shake or stir on ice, serve straight up with a cherry garnish.

Sadly, the origin story of this drink, and how it came to have this timely appellation, has apparently been lost in the bustle of history. I’d like to imagine that it came from New York the very year that the 16th Amendment was ratified (1913). But who knows?

Cheers!

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The Jack Rose is a cheerily pink cocktail that was all the rage back in the 20s and 30s. Despite the frivolity of its color, its flavor immediately announces it as a serious drink, worthy of attention. The masculinity-conscious man who would shun it due to its girlish hue foolishly limits himself. As my authority may not be sufficient to establish this point, I yield the floor to none other than Ernest Hemingway, in his classic The Sun Also Rises:

At five o’clock I was in the Hotel Crillon waiting for Brett. She was not there, so I sat down and wrote some letters. They were not very good letters but I hoped their being on Crillon stationery would help them. Brett did not turn up, so about quarter to six I went down to the bar and had a Jack Rose with George the barman. (Ch. VI)

Of course, it could be that the choice of drink is supposed to be symbolic of Jake’s lack of manful fortitude — I’ll take my chances.

1 1/2 oz. applejack

1/2 oz. lemon or lime juice

1/2 oz. grenadine

Shake or stir on ice, serve straight up with a lime garnish

Applejack is brandy made with apples, but it is not called Calvados because it is made in the United States, and Calvados can only be made in France. Compared to Calvados, applejack has a more whiskeyish flavor. It is also more affordable. Laird’s applejack costs about $20 a bottle and seems to be somewhat easy to find.

Applejack happens to be close to this blog’s heart thanks to its role in the ruin of Richard Whitney, president of the New York Stock Exchange in the era of the Jack Rose:

Whitney’s dishonesty was of a casual, rather juvenile sort. Associates of the day have since explained it as a result of an unfortunate failure to realize that the rules, which were meant for other people, also applied to him. Much more striking than Whitney’s dishonesty was the clear fact that he was one of the most disastrous businessmen in modern history. Theft was almost a minor incident pertaining to his business misfortunes.

In the twenties the Wall Street firm of Richard Whitney and Company was an unspectacular bond house with a modest business. Whitney apparently felt that it provided insufficient scope for his imagination, and with the passing years he moved on to other enterprises… He had also become interested in the distilling of alcoholic beverages, mainly applejack, in New Jersey. Nothing is so voracious as a losing business, and eventually Whitney had three of them… When one loan came due he was forced to replace it with another and to borrow still more for the interest on those outstanding. Beginning in 1933 his stock exchange firm was insolvent, although this did not become evident for some five years…

In 1933, Richard Whitney and Company… had invested in between ten and fifteen thousand shares of Distilled Liquors Corporation, the New Jersey manufacturer of applejack and other intoxicants…

Unhappily, popular enthusiasm for the products of the firm, even in the undiscriminating days following repeal, was remarkably slight. The firm made no money and by June 1936 the price of the stock was down to 11. This drop had a disastrous effect on its value as collateral, and the unhappy Whitney tried to maintain its value by buying more of it. (He later made the claim that he wanted to provide the other investors in the company with a market for their stock, which if true meant that he was engaging in one of the most selfless acts since the death of Sydney Carton.)… Mention has been made of the tendency of people in this period to swindle themselves. Whitney, in his effort to support the stock of Distilled Liquors Corporation, unquestionably emerged as the Ponzi of financial self-deception. (J.K. Galbraith, The Great Crash, pp. 166-167)

Cheers, to better luck and better judgment than Richard Whitney’s!

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Here in the Bay Area, a drizzly winter has abruptly given way to suffocating heat. After a long, stuffy day at work, or in the car, there is no better refreshment than a crisp Campari and soda (except perhaps a chilled Pilsner — but that isn’t a cocktail):

1 half glass Campari

Top off with club soda

Serve on ice with a healthy slice of orange

Campari is a bitter Italian aperitif, flavored with orange peel, that tends to divide people sharply: aficionados sing its praises, others denounce it emotionally. In no country has this so far led to outright civil war, but this result is a matter of luck and not a reflection of the depths of people’s feelings on the subject. My own reaction upon first tasting Campari was equal parts surprise and disgust, followed by a sense of futility about how to describe the flavor (like cigarette butts? like rusty metal? like poisonous insects?). I then determined to use the stuff as a hilarious punishment for unsuspecting friends and guests. But as the days went by afterward, I found that the taste was stuck in my head, much like a catchy jingle. I had to give it another chance, if not for pleasure than for the novelty of the flavor. Before long, I was hooked. I insisted on introducing Campari to my girlfriend, and she went through the same process of bitter resistance and ultimate surrender. So to the novice who is not yet broken in, I must advise: give it time.

Cheers!

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Suzanne invited Will, Gayle and Anna and I over to taste one of our favorite drinks, the French 75, with three different sparkling wines. Made of gin, sugar, lemon juice and sparkling wine, the French 75 falls into the category of cocktails I like to call “Drunk in a Glass.”

Will and I celebrated this past New Years with a French 75. That same fateful night, Suzanne was served a heinous rendition that was topped with soda water to save on sparkling wine.  She could hardly drink it, but prefers that the guilty bar remain anonymous.

To rid her memory of that bitter taste, she picked up three different sparkling wines from Solano Cellars, an awesome wine store and bistro in Albany. Kirsten from Solano Cellars helped her pick the perfect bottles for our French 75 tasting.

I keep calling it “sparkling wine” instead of the more familiar “champagne” because much of what we all call champagne is not actually champagne; to be champagne the grapes must be harvested from the Champagne region of France.  It’s a lot like Tupperware brand food storage containers; we call anything that’s made of plastic and a container Tupperware, but most of the time we are not referring to the brand with the lifetime guarantee.

The first of our sparkling wines was a Crémant de Bourgogne made by Chateau de Lavernette (pictured on the left above). This one is the closest to champagne in taste and style for the value (all three were under $25).

Next we had a sparkling Vouvray made by La Pea de la Moriette. Composed of 100% chenin blanc grape, this sparkling wine resembles a cava or a prosecco with a hunt of light pear.  Mmmm. (Pictured in the middle above.)

Lastly, “for shits and giggles,” we had a cava made by Raventos i Blanc, a Spanish sparkling pink wine with raspberry notes which Kirsten from Solano Cellars suspected would be the most fun in a French 75.

Suzanne finds New Amsterdam to be a "sipping gin."

We used fresh lemon and New Amsterdam gin for the French 75s.  Gayle, Suzanne and I took the opportunity to taste the New Amsterdam gin by itself.  Suzanne calls New Amsterdam “a sipping gin…not as aggressively herby as Hendriks…more flowery.” Gayle thought it was “nice and fruity.” I noted that it fell on my tongue softly, like a pillow.

We decided that the only way to do this tasting justice was to taste each champagne (err…sparking wine) separately, and then taste them all as a French 75.

We started with the Vouvray. Anna liked the “soft, pillowy nose”; Gayle found it mouthwatering, Suzanne citrusy, Will crisp and full-bodied, and I pointed out that it would be a shame to mix it with gin.

Anna is a proponent of more champagne for everyone.

Next up the Crémant de Bourgogne. After a sip of this, Anna resolved to drink more sparkling wine.  Will noted a much stronger smell than the Vouvray and a slightly sour taste.  Anna disagreed. We all agreed it was more dry then the first one, and Gayle found it tangier.

Last but not least, we tasted the cava, which had a pleasing pink hue.  I liked its round flavor and the complexity on the tongue.  Suzanne noticed a little bit of raspberry, and Gayle thought it had way more bite.

Gayle, Anna, and Will all thought that the Vouvray won as best sparkling wine hands down; Suzanne liked them all, and I felt torn between the Vouvray and the Crémant de Bourgogne.

It was impossible to pick a favorite!

It was time to add the gin, lemon juice and a bit of sugar and try them all as French 75s.  Suzanne suggested that we do it blind, but Will pointed out that one of the sparkling wines was pink and we’d be able to tell.  No one suggested the obvious solution of blindfolds.  Maybe next time.

First we tried the French 75 made with the Vouvray.  A chorus of “yum” and “mmmm” rang out. I noticed that it tasted like lemonade; Gayle agreed, “the lemon overwhelms…not necessarily in a bad way though.” Suzanne noticed that it didn’t taste like alcohol and pointed out that that made it a VERY dangerous drink. Will noticed that it was very sweet and blamed the New Amsterdam gin.

We take our tastings very seriously.

Next we tried the Crémant de Bourgogne.  Suzanne liked that it was tangier than the first one.  Both she and Gayle liked it better than the first one.  Gayle thought it was awesome and delicious.  High praise! Anna sipped silently with a look of peaceful bliss on her face.

Lastly we had the French 75 made with the cava.  Will described this version as “insidious.”  I thought it was the best balanced of them all and declared it my favorite.  Suzanne noticed that the raspberry flavor really popped in the French 75–more so, even, then when we tried it by itself.  Gayle felt like the flavors were dissonant, and did not mix well.  Suzanne agreed that there was a lot going on, but that they make it work à la Tim Gunn.

Only Will would describe a drink as "insidious"!

Our verdict?  Tastings are fun.  Champagne is delicious, even if it’s not from the Champange region of France.  French 75s are awesome, and trying them out with different sparkling wines is a great activity.  As with wine, the best is ultimately a matter of taste.  Luckily for us, we all liked different sparkling wines in differing amounts and had no trouble polishing off the bottles.

Cheers!

Thanks to Gayle for many of the photos!

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Tonic Tasting

by Jen on March 18, 2011

Last year I was introduced to high end tonic water by our friends Josh and Sarah with whom we have tasted before.  I remember the higher quality tonic water being much better than the usual stuff we get from Safeway or CVS.  We invited Gayle and Zach over to figure out whether it is indeed worth the extra money.

We picked up Fever Tree brand tonic water for $6 (or $1/mini bottle) and decided to compare it to the cheapest tonic around, Safeway’s tonic in a can ($1.50/6 pack).

One certainly looks yummier than the other.

We made two identical gin and tonics with Beefeaters (it’s what we had).

They don't look identical because they're in mismatched glasses. Will try to do better next time.

We passed them around.

Gayle thought that the one made with Safeway tonic (we’ll call it the “economy tonic”) tasted like what a gin and tonic should taste like.  “Oooh interesting,” she said as she tasted the other (we’ll call it the “Fever Tree tonic”), “there’s not as much difference as I thought there’d be.”

Zach liked the Fever Tree tonic better because the flavors were more balanced, and overall it was less sweet. “It complements the flavor of gin rather than competing with it.”

Will took his time tasting, as he’s wont to do. “I don’t know,” he sighed.  “I don’t notice as much as a difference as I thought I would.”  When pressed, he thought that the Fever Tree Tonic was more bitter, consistent with Zach’s findings.

Upon a second tasting, Gayle noticed different after tastes from the two drinks. She and I spent awhile reminiscing about the terrible gin and tonics we have had at bars.  Sometimes they don’t clean the hoses or run out of the tonic syrup without realizing it.  We have returned gin and tonics from time to time; we’ve always had a bit of cocktail snobbery in us.

I agreed with Gayle that the gin and tonic made with economy tonic tasted the way we have come to expect a gin and tonic to expect.  When compared with the Fever Tree tonic, though, I noticed a bit of a metallic taste to the economy tonic.  Perhaps due to it being stored in a can?  Other than that, though, the difference was not nearly as palpable as I remembered it!

Perplexed by our findings, we poured straight tonic into glasses and tasted that. The verdict was the same.

The Fever Tree tonic is better, has a bit more depth and complexity, but for six times the price, it does little to add to a mixed drink.

Save your money! Get cheap tonic!

 

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It’s that time of the year again, the one day I wear that ugly green shirt.

This blog does not endorse making light of political violence, or competitive drinking as a sport. In spite of those disclaimers, we take the day of old Eire to blog one of the few beer cocktails I’ve ever found palatable* — some others are quite loathsome –, and one that has been the misfortune of many an unsuspecting college student: the Irish Car Bomb.

All participants combine the following:

1 pint Guinness beer

3/4 oz. Irish whisky

3/4 oz. Bailey’s Irish cream

Pour Guinness into a pint glass, drop shot of whisky and cream into the beer. All participants then consume the resulting mixture as quickly as they can. The one who does it the fastest wins.

A Guinness float, made with Guinness and vanilla ice cream, can also be quite pleasant.

Fun Fact about Ireland: In Ireland they serve Guinness at room temperature, and enjoy disallowing people access to bars based upon their age and preferences in footwear.

*Jen wants it noted that she does not like this drink, as would prefer to sip a drink and dislikes having to chug

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Rare Ingredients Watch: Amer Picon

by Will on March 6, 2011

CocktailDB.com has a feature called the Mixilator, which uses some kind of algorithm to generate custom cocktail recipes based on your stated preferences or mood. Last night I was feeling uninspired, and so I gave it a spin. Here is the cocktail it recommended that I make:

Chill cocktail glass. Prepare as follows:

In bar glass combine

Stir with lump ice and a measure of grace.

Strain into chilled cocktail glass.

Add a shake of almond.

OK, so it’s a bit presumptuous of the thing to assume that we have raspberry-flavored vodka. But I’m sure that if I went to the store I could get some. I’m a bit less confident that I could quickly locate the apricot syrup, but never mind that.

But Amer Picon? As I understand it, the stuff hasn’t been available in the United States for decades. I suppose I can buy some the next time I’m in France, but that hardly helps me make that drink this weekend. There is a product that I’ve read is similar, called Torani Amer, and it happens that I even know of a place that sells it! But it’s rare enough that most people would be out of luck.

Very peculiar.

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Chartreuse Tasting

by Jen on March 4, 2011

Our friends Rosalie and Connor inspired us to take out our green and yellow Chartreuse and have a tasting.

A French liqueur, Chartreuse has been made by the Carthusian Monks since the 1740s.  Nowadays it’s produced in a factory in a nearby town, and it’s one of the few alcohols to improve its flavor in the bottle.

Composed of distilled alcohol aged with 130 herbal extracts, I remember adamantly disliking it the first time I tried it. I was willing to give it another shot.

Chartreuse comes in two varieties: green and yellow.  They both resembled the color chartreuse, and the liqueur gives that color its name.

We poured small amounts of each variety into tumblers and passed them around.  Alcohol kills germs after all.

The Green Chartreuse inspired Connor to free associate, “the favorite drink of the Austrian elk villa…cross-country skiing…festival of lights…scientology…theta count…Tom Cruise…Boys of Summer…”

Contrast that with his reaction to the yellow, “It tastes like sticking your head into a Chinese herb shop Amelie-style.”

Both flavors are very complex in flavor due to the 130 herbal extracts they are made with.

Rosalie said that the green made her feel like she has “dragon breath…burning [her] taste buds off”!  The yellow was “more refreshing” though it did make her “tongue numb.”

Picture Rosalie exhaling FIRE!

High praise for Chartreuse so far, eh?  Let’s keep in mind that if tasted straight, it should have been chilled (which I didn’t realize at the time of the tasting and Will neglected to inform me) and that most often it’s found in very small amounts in cocktails.

Once again, I found the taste of both to be…unappetizing. The green has hints of licorice, a taste I have never liked.

The yellow tasted almost grassy to me, and I preferred it to the green because the licorice taste was more subtle.  Both are viscous liquids that called to mind memories of cough syrup. I noted that the sweetness mixed with the intense herbal notes make it a truly interesting taste, if not my favorite.

Will noted that Chartreuse has an exceptionally high alcohol content, which is necessary to preserve the herbs.  Maybe that’s why Rosalie thought her tongue was on fire.  Connor chimed in that he heard a rumor that Bill Murray only drinks Chartreuse and bemoaned the fact that the two of them are not best buds…yet.

Three cheers for Chartreuse!  If nothing else, a great conversation piece.

Three cheers for Chartreuse! If nothing else, a great conversation piece.

 

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The aptly named cocktail of times past, recently re-popularized by television’s Don Draper:

1 1/2 oz. Bourbon or rye whiskey

1 sugar cube

5 or 6 vigorous dashes of Angostura bitters

Muddle the sugar and bitters at the bottom of an old-fashioned glass, put ice and whiskey on top, serve with a cherry, orange slice, and anything else you might feel like adding.

As previously noted, there was a time when “cocktail” referred specifically to this basic recipe: spirit + sugar + bitters. In America, whiskey cocktails would be the preferred mix, though in Wisconsin the state drink is the Brandy Old-Fashioned, which uses the same recipe but with brandy as the spirit. Two-hundred years ago that drink would have been called a “brandy cocktail.”

The first printed definition of the word “cocktail” gives evidence of this fact, and is otherwise fairly awesome. It is from a paper named The Balance, from 1803:

Cocktail is a stimulating liquor composed of spirits of any kind, sugar, water, and bitters—it is vulgarly called a bittered sling and is supposed to be an excellent electioneering potion, inasmuch as it renders the heart stout and bold, at the same time that it fuddles the head. It is said, also to be of great use to a Democratic candidate: because a person, having swallowed a glass of it, is ready to swallow anything else.

Sante!

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