Gold Rush

IMG_1520Proposed by: Jonathan

Reviewed by: David

How is it possible? The history of cocktails tells us the first that met that definition and name was created in the early 1800’s. Yet here we are in 2020 and the history of this week’s Gold Rush cocktail, a 3 ingredient mix by the way, is less than 20 years old.

The Bee’s Knees cocktail is more widely known. The lore is that the Bee’s was the result of prohibition era gin being softened with the sweet of honey and the distraction of lemon. The true story it seems is that this gin cocktail traces back to Paris in the late 1920’s. It is attributed to the widow, and adventurer, Margaret Brown. She and her bartender were the first to mix gin (an ample 2 ounces) with honey syrup and lemon (3/4 ounce in most versions). Margaret Brown, by the way, is better known as the Unsinkable Molly Brown – a survivor of the sinking of the Titanic.

The bourbon version of this cocktail, the Gold Rush, did not arrive until the early 2000’s. An investor and bartender, T.J. Siegal, at New York’s Milk & Honey bar created this drink as an alternative to a Whiskey Sour. The honey syrup provides the sweetness and the lemon the acid with bourbon as the perfect foil. As I asked to begin this background – how did it take so long?

The Gold Rush

2 ounces bourbon (don’t skimp and use something you like by itself)
3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
3/4 ounce honey syrup (I mixed at a 2:1 honey water ratio)
Shake with ice, strain onto ice in a highball glass and garnish as you like. I used some pineapple sage leaves because I had them.

I made a Gold Rush and a Bee’s Knees since I had the ingredients for both. Just sub gin for the bourbon in the latter and serve in coupe with a twist.

Here’s David’s Review:IMG_1510

Make enough cocktails (and drink enough) and you’re bound to consider the fundamental qualities of a cocktail, like how many ingredients it should have, what proportions, which flavors to complement and/or contrast others, or which seemingly peripheral elements like temperature or drinking vessel suit the drink best. No such basic laws actually exist, of course. No Neoplatonic cocktail sits in another plane of reality serving as the ideal for every iteration. However, for me, one cocktailian truth seems fundamental—cocktails should only be a complicated as they need to be.

Back in the old days when I visited restaurants instead of having them visit me with greasy bags and styrofoam, some involuntary skepticism rose up in me as I read the cocktail menu and found drinks with seven or eight ingredients. Many proved wonderful. The ones that wove multiple flavors without hiding any of them showed amazing skill and tested the limits of my preference for only necessary complexity. Other cocktails, however, just seemed muddied by too many and too varied components.

All of which is a long preamble to saying I liked the Gold Rush. When Jonathan proposed it, I immediately thought about the sore throat cure my father-in-law used to give my wife as a child—it was the sixties—but I really appreciated the clarity and sincerity of this drink. Though I might cut down on the honey simple syrup a little bit, this cocktail fulfills my cocktailian Occam’s Razor especially well.

As if often the case when you reduce the number of ingredients, you need to assure the quality of the Gold Rush’s few parts. But, even with so simple a formula, you have a lot of room for experimentation. I can imagine a different bourbon, honey, or Meyers’ lemon (instead of regular lemons) would make a big difference.

Jonathan’s take: I know this will surprise you – but how did it take so long!

David’s take: Could be a classic (and I’m not sure why it’s not)

Jonathan’s proposal for the next drink: We will return to one of the basics the Mule (Moscow and otherwise). I have a feeling that Mezcal will make an appearance in my version.

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.