Year Two: The Best and Worst

As promised, we are taking a look at the highlights (and lowlights) of our second year of tasting cocktails.

Jonathan

JanetoblameThis has been a wonderful year for the virtual cocktail club. That’s mostly because it has been less virtual. We have enjoyed beverages with friends, neighbors, groups and, most importantly, family. David and I even had a couple of drinks together this year. I hate to try to summarize it for fear that something will be left out although there are plenty of cocktails that stand out for one reason or another.

I don’t know about David, but I cannot recall attending any school that named superlatives. You know – “most likely to make friends with a cell mate” or “best dressed person studying phrenology” or even “class rodeo clown”. Yes, that was my second rodeo clown reference this year even if this one makes no sense.

I went back and reviewed all of the drinks we tried this year. Reviewed, not tried. What stood out the most is that we have picked better drinks. There have been a few duds, but for the most part the cocktails have been interesting, sometimes classic sometimes not, and have included a great number of ingredients. Based on that, rather than rank the drinks I would like to offer my superlatives.

Best name/worst drink: The Monkey Incident

It is a bit unseemly to pick a drink I named, but I loved it (the name not the drink). It came to me in a conversation with a co-worker that had absolutely nothing to do with cocktails. I think the reason I liked it so much is that there is something amusing to me about any odd animal reference, and I don’t think it is just me.

I have an enduring memory of one of my nieces, the one most directly related to David, his daughter. We did not see them that often but there was a period that whenever we did she would always make some reference to baboons. What made it so funny is that when she said the word it was almost as if it burst from her like there was an actual baboon crashing into the room.  “And then he danced like a manic baboon!”

The drink wasn’t funny and it wasn’t good. It was our first, and I think only, frozen drink. It was also the only use of crème de banana and now I am stuck with a bottle of the stuff. Bad drink, bad liqueur.

Best use of unique spirits that were actually good: Goldschläger drinks

Goldschläger was used in two different drinks and both were surprisingly good. The first was the Black & Gold which we used to celebrate another niece’s graduation from college. The intent was to create a drink that matched the school colors with the gold flakes floating in a dark spirit. It was so effective that the drink actually tasted good. Nice surprise.

The second use was the 3GT which mixed ginger beer, gin, Goldschläger and tonic. My take was that it could be a staple on bar menus and I still think that. A mix of ginger, botanicals, cinnamon and quinine seems quite odd until you taste it. The interplay is one of the few examples of a drink that is not dominated by a single ingredient.

Most likely to make someone say “what the heck is that”: Pear Bourbon Cider

The base of that drink was a pear cinnamon cider from Trader Joe’s. That cider was so good that I went back less than a week later to get some more. It was gone from the shelves and I suspect it is one of those Trader products that don’t last long like the black pepper cashews that disappeared a few years ago but were so good that I still look for them every time I go in. The cider and bourbon were best friends. So much so that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I knew I had used bourbon as the base and that pear was the fruit but would bet that folks drinking the cocktail could not have identified either specifically. The essence of a well-blended drink.

Ingredient most able to make others superlative: Any drink with a sparkling wine

We tried at least three drinks that included a sparkling wine and each of them was fantastic. The Vanilla Bourbon Champagne, Amazonia and Sparkling Peach Sangria all stood out and the effervescence from the bubbly was a big part of each. I could probably include the orange wheat shandy, which benefited in the same way from the beer, in that group too. It may not be manly, whatever that means, but the specific carbonation of wine and beer lifts the drink to another level.

Even better for me, it is not a drink that I want to drink in quantity rather it is one that is worth savoring. Pinky extended, of course.

King and Queen of the Prom: Prickly Pear Margarita

David is right—we are more savvy. I would be one of the last people that a person should ask to whip up a cocktail without use of a recipe because we make a different one each week, and I don’t repeat them enough to commit the bartending to memory. That said, I know so much more about methods, concepts and individual, often odd, ingredients than I ever did. What once was a foreign language when reading drink menus is now familiar and there is a good chance I even know some of the history or background to it.

When I was at The Last Word in San Antonio I asked the bartender if they made their own shrubs. He described a couple of new ones they were working on for future drinks, and I told him about the simple apple shrub we had made a few weeks before. Fortunately, my son David was the only person to hear the conversation, and he is far too nice to tell me what a cocktail nerd I have become.

The prickly pear margarita is great example of the classic mix of ingredients that make up a good drink. Spirit, sweet, sour and water are the base but in this case they were all twists on each of those categories. Front and center were two components made for each other – mezcal and prickly pear syrup. The mezcal is distinctive and smoky providing the platform for everything else and the syrup balanced it with a unique earthy (David’s very apt description) sweetness. They are cousins that seem more like brothers which is fitting since our oldest brother provided the homemade prickly pear syrup that we used. The drink was made complete with more sweetness from orange liqueur and the sour element of lime provided in two different ways. There is both fresh juice and a concentrated limeade that begged for the ice bath to cut its strength. This cocktail deserves its crown(s).

David

drinkHere’s a different approach to this task. I’m going to dare a few thoughts about the aesthetics of cocktails.

After two years of making a different cocktail almost every week, I guess I’m entitled to some conclusions… or at least some opinions. When we last engaged in this week’s exercise of choosing hits, misses, and stuff between, my assessments seemed rather scattershot. It’s hard to say why some cocktails “work” (and others don’t), and anyone examining my choices might discover no pattern, no underlying principle, or specific perspective, no aesthetic.

That’s okay—I’m hanging onto our no-pressure not-so-savvy status as long as possible—but I am beginning to recognize (and anticipate, even) what I like in a drink. For me, it all comes down to balance, interest, and impact.

Balance seems the most obvious trait—you want each ingredient to count for something and you want them to play together well. You seek harmony. You don’t want a shandy that’s too orange-y or Bloody Mary still too married to tomato juice. A whiskey too sour isn’t appealing, nor is anything over-cardamomed. Two of my least favorite weeks involved milk or cream—the wassail and the cherry pisco hot chocolate. In each case, the ingredients seemed at war with one another, each vying for attention. One of the drinks I return to often is the 3GT, a combination of flavors that, while quite different, combine well.

We’ve had a fruity year. That is, we’ve tried a number of cocktails featuring components like grapefruit, figs, prickly pears, rhubarb, peaches, strawberries, cranberry, and even pumpkin. If you count citrus, almost every drink contains fruit. More broadly, however, I’d say each has an interest, a central taste everything else dances around. Balance and interest may seem contradictory—one suggests a meeting of equals and the other a boss—but the two traits are more paradoxical to me. You need to taste everything, but without something particularly interesting, the drink doesn’t work. And it need not be fruit. Take the Vanilla Bourbon Champagne Cocktail. The name is a pile-up of sorts—or an effort to give every actor a line—but the vanilla seems the star, echoed by the mellow taste of bourbon and enhanced by the effervescence of champagne. I’m with Jonathan here… just about any cocktail with sparkling wine is good… well, not every.

When I say a cocktail needs impact, I don’t mean to say it’s potent—though potency is perhaps the most obvious impact in a cocktail—it could be its appearance, as with Tiki drinks or spice, as with the Medicine Man or Chai as in the Chai Town. I realize impact over laps with interest, but if interest is the central flavor cocktails dance around, the impact is the great enticer, attracting eyes, nose, or sensibility. Alcohol-y drinks aren’t for everyone. I’ve talked about my sister-in-law’s preference for fruity drinks, but a spirituous drink has some appeal for me, promising a break from the usual, especially when the usual seems so challenging. In that vein, I enjoyed the Jane Russell and the Monte Carlo, both of which matched spirit against liqueur against bitters, intense, potent, but distinctive.

This aesthetic of balance, interest, and impact may seem to exclude those standards like the whiskey sour or gin and tonic or martini, but I don’t think they do. Oddly, one of my favorite drinks over the last two years has been the Horse’s Neck, which might not seem to have so much going for it—just ginger ale, bourbon, and bitters. My justification is be that an effective cocktail needs some measure of each trait, and that, at times, one trait makes it all work.

Jonathan’s Take: I thought we would have run out of ideas by now, but on to year three.

David’s Take: Still not savvy, but getting there.

Next week (Proposed By Jonathan):

The Daedalus is cocktail that I found in a book I have used for previous proposals – The Art of the Bar. It is one of few drinks I have seen that uses Irish whiskey as the primary liquor, excluding shots, and is combined here with a ginger syrup that also includes peppercorns to add a little spice. It should be a simple mix to start, again, our next year of virtual drinks together.

 

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The Medicine Man

Proposed by: Davidmedicine1

Reviewed by: Jonathan

Let me part the curtains and take you behind the scenes here at A Drink With My Brother (the Chicago end, anyway). I’m sure you wonder about the origins of these crazy selections.

Whether you do or not, however, picture this. It’s last Saturday afternoon, around two-thirty, and I’m wondering if I’ll look like a boozehound if I start the cocktail Jonathan has proposed, for which I believe I have all the ingredients. “By the time I gather the parts and set up the photograph,” I tell myself, “it will be nearly three.”

Then I discover a. my wife is still drinking tea and isn’t ready to let day slide into evening, b. hey, there’s supposed to be food, this isn’t just about knocking a couple back, you know, and c. actually, turns out, I have nearly all the ingredients.

A walk to a nearby grocery provides a delay for my wife to drink her tea and gives me time to consider this project Jonathan and I have undertaken. Once again I ask myself whether the whole remote cocktail club thing is really just an elaborate ruse to avoid facing a growing drinking problem.

“Nah,” I decide.

Then I turn to my next worry—what about next week?

I much prefer weeks, like this one, where I’m off the hook for choosing what’s next. I enjoy making Jonathan’s cocktails and tasting them, but not only does reviewing drinks tax my flavor vocabulary but also comes with the more nervous element for me, finding something that won’t make my brother (and other intrepid followers of this blog) howl.

Sometimes the spirit starts the search. Sometimes it’s an article in the Tribune describing—never specifically enough—a concoction at a local restaurant. Sometimes it’s a recently neglected spirit. Sometimes it’s the season, the situation, or a bottle gathering dust that really needs another use. Whatever it is, though, it’s hard. I usually decide and undecide about five times before finally screwing my courage to the sticking place and all that.

Back to last weekend: my walk takes me past almost bare trees and into those Chicago gusts that tell you clothes are actually permeable and little protection from the elements. I think of a warm drink, but that seems premature. Living in Chicago, I know I’ll need heat later. So I consider something spicy. Mezcal is out, as it’s in the The Great Calabaza, then I remember the smoked paprika from Istanbul one of my son’s friends, Joe Girton, gave us when he visited with my son last spring… and a weird cocktail calling for paprika.

I don’t recall the sage. I forget about the maple syrup. But that’s how I discover this week’s choice. Later, when I look online, I discover this description:

Smoke can be imparted in any number of ways. Some of the cool guy bartenders out there have taken to cold smoking their ice, while others infuse smoke directly into the cocktail using handheld smokers. The Medicine Man, a cocktail sold at San Francisco’s Bourbon & Branch, uses paprika for a gently spiced and smoky rum drink that you’ve got to try to believe.

Perfect, I think… and pray it won’t be wretched.

Here’s the recipe (makes one cocktail):

2 ounces white rum

¾ ounce lemon juice

½ ounce maple syrup

¼ teaspoon smoked paprika

4 sage leaves, divided

In a shaker, combine rum, lemon juice, maple syrup, paprika, and three sage leaves. Shake vigorously until cold. Strain into a chilled glass, and garnish with remaining sage leaf.

And Here’s Jonathan’s Review:

medicineJBM

The whole idea of learning about tapping maple trees while growing up in La Marque, Texas amuses me. I completely understand that one should learn about things outside of your own world, but La Marque was almost as far from quaint New England as you could get. There are lots of trees (but not maples as far as I can remember) that include live oaks, the pecan trees that surrounded our second house and the invasive chinaberry tree. The latter is my favorite due to the eponymous berries that could be gathered for an impromptu pelting of friend or foe at any time.

There are plenty of maples where we live in North Carolina and this is the time of year that they are at their most spectacular.

Depending on variety they are turning yellow, red, and orange as we progress through fall. There are even folks who tap them, like the farmer that supplies our community supported agriculture (CSA). He does use recycled 2 liter bottles for collection instead of the classic pails that showed up in our grammar school books, but the small amount we get with our CSA is no less sweet and precious for the use of old coke containers.

Based on what I have written, it should be no surprise it was the maple that excited me most about this cocktail. It is different in that the maple is used straight instead of diluted into simple syrup, and there was no disappointment on that front as the syrup accentuated the sweetness and sugar cane base of the rum. What surprised me was how much the sage added to the drink. Sure, there are probably still small amounts stuck in my teeth from the vigorous shaking but the additional background taste was well worth it. The smoked paprika, on the other hand, was great in terms of taste, but difficult to deal with as a raw ground spice floating in the drink. Maybe a maple, sage and smoked paprika simple syrup that was strained through cheese cloth would be better, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as easy.

Jonathan’s take: It took me a while to find the smoked paprika so it got to do double duty as part of a salmon marinade. Worked better there.

David’s Take: Those Turks must like their spices hot. If I were drinking a Medicine Man again I’d give the sage more of a chance by reducing my paprika.

Next Week (Proposed by Jonathan):

We are still enjoying fall and the flavors that come with it. Since it has also been a while since we have added a sparkling ingredient, I am proposing a bourbon drink that combines pears in a cider form and apples in a sparkling form. This pear bourbon cider doesn’t have a memorable name so if the drink is good, we’ll have to come up with one.