When you read one of Charles Baker’s Gentlemen’s Companions you’re in for a delightful romp through his travels, misfortunes, egotism, and name-dropping. They’re lively and fun reads. When you try to parse a recipe from one of Charles Baker’s Gentlemen’s Companions you’re in for a headache. By way of example, here’s the text from Baker’s description of the Pendennis Club cocktail:

“THE PENDENNIS CLUB’S FAMOUS SPECIAL
To 1 jigger of dry gin add 1/2 jigger of the best dry apricot brandy procurable. Squeeze in the juice of 1 lime or 1/2 a small lemon, strained of course, and trim with 2 dashes of Peychaud’s bitters which has been made for generations in New orleans…Split a ripe kumquat, now available during the winter in most big grocery or fruit stores; take out the seeds and put the two halves in a Manhattan glass. Stir the drink like a Martini with lots of cracked ice and strain onto the golden fruit. This is a sweeter Grande Bretagne, see Page 47.”

I’ll hand this to the man, by the time you’re breathlessly done reading his recipe entries, you’re certainly ready for a drink. Fortunately, thanks to the efforts of Martin Doudoroff (one of the fine people behind cocktaildb.com) and St. John Frizell there is a “Charles H. Baker, Jr. Companion” that assembles the recipes into a more readable and usable format. You know, a Companion to the Companions, so to speak. Many of Baker’s recipes are suspect at best and absymal at their worst, and the Bumblebee is a nice gem found in the pages of Baker’s South American Gentlemen’s Companion. It is a deceptive drink in that it looks simple enough but reveals a lot about the quality of your rum and the fastidiousness of your preparation when it’s served. Here’s the recipe excerpted from the book:

The BUMBLE-BEE COCKTAIIL–May God Forgive the British-Inspired Pun-Title–a Nice Rum-Honey Thought from Georgetown, British Guiana.

That same old world-wandering friend J.K.L. Ponsonby-Foulcques, the “Jekyll” of Bin-’n'-Gitters fame, Page 24 gave us this unusual, simple yet satisfying drink, also. Mix in shaker:

• 2 oz best medium dark rum
• 1 1/2 to 2 tsp strained honey
• 2 tsp or so, lime Juice
• 2 tsp fresh egg white
• Curl Orange Peel
• Drops Angostura

Shake hard with big ice and strain into pre-chilled stemmed cocktail glass. Dot with 3 or 4 drops Angostura Bitters, and twist curl of orange peel over finished drink for fragrant scent.

I was introduced to the Bumblebee by the fine work they do at Heaven’s Dog in San Francisco and love this drink when the seasons change between summer and fall. Using an aged rum with no small amount of “oomph” is paramount in this drink. Something along the lines of Angostura 1919, Appleton V/X, or Clement VSOP will bring their character through the egg white and honey without overpowering the drink. Too dark or light a rum, however, and the Bumblebee loses its charm.

The proportions of lime juice and honey can be toyed with and doing so is a good exercise in discovering how a rum’s character is affected and brought out by the changes. As for the egg white, measuring out 2tsp can be troublesome so I highly suggest placing an egg white or three in one of those condiment squeeze bottles you see at picnics and cook-outs and dispensing a carefully-measured amount of egg white. Using too much or too little egg will surely kill the drink (thanks to Rumdood for the dispensing tip). It’s a temperamental drink, I’ll admit.

Give this drink a try and practice your dry shaking to get a good froth on top of the drink as it’s key to getting the drops of Angostura to sit properly and keep them from dissolving the foam and sinking down into the drink before their time. My thanks to Erik Ellestad for the full excerpt from the South American Gentlemen’s Companion. On Baker’s writing, I’ll quote my good friend Doug who said, “He’d have been the greatest cocktail blogger of all time.” Likely true, likely true…the bastard.

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The Bumblebee:Rating:

At the violet hour, the hour when eyes and back and hand
Turn upward from the desk, the human engine waits–
Like a taxi throbbing waiting at a stand–
To spring to pleasure through the horn or ivory gates.

The Violet Hour is a drink that was submitted and featured at Tales of the Cocktail…2008. Yes, sometimes it takes me that long to trudge through a deck of 300 recipes to find ones that show some promise and don’t require my traveling to the plateau of upper Tibet in search of Witches Bane root to be steeped in Unicorn saliva for 20 years under the shade of a Wispwillow tree. I am remiss in taking so long to get to it, as it’s quite dandy.

Toby Maloney opened the Violet Hour in 2007 and it has received accolades as one of the best bars in America. And, certainly, when one visits Chicago, it has become a must-visit attraction for cocktailians. And while I’ve not seen the Violet Hour cocktail on their current menu, Toby apparently featured it at last year’s Tales of the Cocktail as a means of honoring his bar and honor it he has.

The Violet Hour

• 2oz Bourbon (used Bulleit)
• 3/4oz Sweet Vermouth (used Carpano)
• 1/4oz Dry Vermouth (used Cinzano)
• 1/10oz Cruzan Blackstrap
• 3 dashes Fee’s Old Fashioned Bitters

While very much like a Brooklyn that’s been inverted and is using Blackstrap instead of maraschino as a sweetener, the Blackstrap and heavy dose of bitters makes different enough to warrant its own place in a cocktail rotation. The Violet Hour starts with a very Manhattan-esque flavor and then a caramel back with just enough cassia and cardamom from the bitters holds sway to give you something else to think about and consider. Using Fee Old Fashioned is critical in this one. Having tried several others, the rest not quite giving the baking spice zing of Fee’s and allowing the drink to fall off, Fee’s is the order of the day.

The other note I have on this drink is the Blackstrap. 1/10oz is around 1/2 teaspoon and I believe it could use a touch more. And by “touch” I mean about twice as much. The caramel character blending with the spice of the bourbon and the bitters at the back-end of this drink is, to me, what makes it special. Even if you up it to 1/8oz (3/4t) you’ll have an improved drink. So, my recommendation is to use 3/4t or 1t Blackstrap in the drink and move back from there if you find it overly tacky or aggressive.

Otherwise, sit back and enjoy the violet hour, which usually falls around 8:00pm this time of year. A perfect time for a drink, don’t you think?

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The Violet Hour Rating:

One of my regrets, and I have many, is not writing Ted Haigh ahead of this post. You see, he’s done so many great things; helping Fee Brothers craft their falernum, solving the riddle of the origins of the Singapore Sling, and, of course, playing the role of “Bartender” in “Superbad,” and having his insight into the origin story of this drink would be enlightening. In the Whoa, Nellie! you have a set of strange bedfellows, glancing nervously at one another and wondering how they arrived in the same drink, much less the same city. And it’s worth talking about the city in which this drink resides.

The Whoa, Nellie! calls the Cafe Adelaide and Swizzle Stick Bar in New Orleans its home. It was contributed to the Swizzle Stick’s menu as a tribute to the first Mardi Gras after Hurricane Katrina and in a stupefied fit of unfit drunkenness I ordered it and it broke through my haze of disorientation and inebriation and brought the guiding light of clarity and “Damn, this is GOOD,” to my soul and I scratched out the recipe from the poor bartender’s lips as I slurred my way through understanding.

Whoa, Nellie!

• 1.25oz Rye Whiskey (Sazerac or the like)
• .75oz Dark Rum (Coruba or Myer’s)
• .75oz Cointreau
• .5oz Grapefruit juice
• .5oz Lemon juice
• .5oz Simple syrup

Shake all ingredients and double-strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Think recuperative thoughts.

As my friend Rick said upon first tasting this drink, “The first sip reminded me of the Alamagoozlum in its strangeness. The melange of ingredients produces a symphony where no one instrument is heard, yet a chorus of sound echoes in your ears.” Yes, something like that.

The Whoa, Nellie! brings the unusual pairing of Rye and Dark Rum together in a way that allows this to be more than a sour but, even with the grapefruit, less than tiki. It’s one of my favorite types of drinks, built on simple and easy-to-find ingredients but bringing with it enough complexity to be wildly interesting without being fussy and demanding voodoo-like ritualistic principles of process or construction to achieve its goals. In short, it’s divine and yet accessible. It also goes great with hearty summer dishes such as grilled sausages, grilled flat-iron steak, or barbeque. This is a drink that cries out to be put into rotation as the mercury threatens to burst out of the thermometer out your window and poison the Hydrangeas you’ve nurtured so well.

Also, if you’ll allow me, back to Ted Haigh and New Orleans. Tales of the Cocktail is next week and, with it, a gaggle of cocktailians, bartenders, and other enthusiasts descend upon the Big Easy and raid bars like the Swizzle Stick and make them their own. One of the things I look forward to most at Tales this year is the release of a new version of “Vintage Spirits & Forgotten Cocktails,” by Ted Haigh . The first edition was the second serious cocktail book I purchased, right behind “The Joy of Mixology.” Ted opened my eyes to such wonderful drinks as the Blue Moon, the Alamagoozlum, Picon Punch, the Income Tax Cocktail, the Pendennis, and many others. He also did it with a degree of grace, detail, and intrigue that made it great fun to read.

In this deluxe edition Ted brings us back to those drinks but with new insights, new sources, and with a look at how the Internet has affected and supported the burgeoning cocktail culture. If you are thinking of dipping your toe into cocktailian waters and are at a loss for a place to start, you can’t do much better than this guide. If you are a seasoned mixologist or aficionado of quality drinks and don’t yet have this on your shelf, your library is incomplete. Buy it at Tales and get it signed by Ted himself or order it on Amazon, it’s one of the good ones.

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Whoa, Nellie! Rating:

I’m late for Mixology Monday, it’s true. Though rather than blame it on a dog eating my homework or, rather, drinking it, allow me to blame it on a certain dog in San Francisco who inspired me to chase its tail in the recreation of this drink. This is a tale of a weary traveler, who after long nights in bars, long days in distilleries, and sampling many fine brandies and Eau de Vies, was left in Oakland and drifted back to the other side of the Bay one Sunday afternoon looking for respite. Walking aimlessly around Union Square, drifting by noted liquor stores and finding them cruelly closed and, parched and listless, glancing at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and grimacing at the slice of life observed at 6th and Mission, I found my oasis, Heaven’s Dog. And, just as it opened.

Heaven’s Dog’s bar is constructed from a single cut of wood from a white cedar tree and the blend of contemporary and natural elements strikes you as you sit and face a long string of delights, spaced evenly and uncluttered behind the bartender, and contemplate what joys may come. Erik, it so happens, was part of the Feng shui on this visit. Heaven’s Dog features a “Freedom from Choice” on its menu and, in my deprived state, I was in need of such freedom. I glared at the bottles along the wall and, seeing Amaro Nonino, told Erik, “Something using Amaro Nonino, but dry, crisp, and refreshing.” Erik passed me my glass of water and, my trust and palate in his hands, went to work. This, as best as I can work out , is what I was served:

Upward Dog

• 2oz Rye whiskey
• .75oz Dry vermouth
• .75oz Amaro Nonino (used Amaro Meletti at home in the recreation of it)
• 2 barspoons Maraschino liqueur

Stir and strain. Serve with a lemon twist.

This is a delightful drink. I always develop crushes on simple and classically-styled cocktails that come across well-constructed and deliver complex and pleasing results. The balance of amaro against the rye and dry vermouth avoids the overly earthy or perfumey quality many amaro-heavy drinks acquire and the maraschino liqueur adds a sweet nutty touch without creating too much body. I highly recommend this and, if you can’t get Amaro Nonino, use a brighter and spicier amaro in your arsenal as a sub. Amaro Meletti is very light-bodied and brings a brightness to this that is most enjoyable. I also recommend using a drier rye than Old Overholt or Russell’s Reserve. Something on the order of Rittenhouse Bonded or Sazerac 6-year is called for here.

Heaven’s Dog assembles an incredible array of talent behind its bar. Erik Adkins, Thad Vogler, Erik Ellestad, and the other notable bartenders behind the stick represent a repository of cocktail knowledge and sound mixological principles that should be recognized and appreciated by the cocktailians of San Francisco. While Heaven’s Dog’s cocktail menu is squarely centered on vintage cocktails with a focus on local and natural ingredients, any bar where a patron can ask for a “Freedom from Choice” and have J. Wray Nephew Overproof rum as the called spirit and have delivered such a delightful cocktail as Thad managed, on the fly, to create deserves not only our respect but a bit of our awe as well.

I highly recommend the Bumblebee and Pisco Apricot Tropical. Or, if Ellestad is behind the stick, the Upward Dog.

Upward Dog Rating:

I’m in the same camp as Jay , except for the occasional excursion into Thursday Drink Night with an experiment of a drink among friends, I tend to leave the development of original drinks to the experts. Or, at least those in Playboy’s Top 10. That is until there is an interesting Rye or set of bitters at stake, which is exactly where I found myself this weekend with the allure and deadline of Marshall’s contest looming large in my mind. I also had bergamot-tarragon syrup to experiment with. As for why I had that particular syrup hanging around, that’s a tale for another day. With “Spring” and rye as the guiding stars per the contest rules, I set my boat a sail. I landed on the friendly and warm shores of The Revivalist, my attempt to acquire bitters and Templeton Rye in my favorite way, at Marshall’s expense.

The Revivalist

• 2oz Rye whiskey
• 1/2oz Amer Picon
• 1/2oz Bergamot-Tarragon syrup*
• 1/4oz Maraschino liqueur
• 1/4oz Lemon juice

Shake all ingredients with ice and double-strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Twist lemon peel over the drink and garnish with a lemon twist.

*Bergamot-Tarragon syrup: Bring simple syrup (1:1.5) just to boil and remove from heat, add tarragon and bergamot leaves and leave to sit and cool with syrup for at least one hour. Strain all into sterilized container.

This took several tries to get right. Originally I had the lemon juice and Amer Picon inverted and the tartness of the lemon juice along with the herbaceousness of the syrup led it into highly unfortunate bile territory. There was a good start there but it needed to feature the freshness of the syrup, the heartiness of the rye – and I do recommend a hearty rye in this, a nuttier and milder rye like Old Overholt will play dead in this – and the dancing combination of rye and Amer Picon more clearly. After several adjustments and misses I arrived at the recipe above.

I was worried that the volume of syrup would overly thicken the drink and make it tacky but the Amer Picon tamps that down and counters well enough to allow enough of the syrup to be present to bring the cucumber notes of bergamot and the fresh tarragon through. Also, using a strong rye alongside the maraschino allows the rich cherry must and nut character of the maraschino to express itself without overtaking the drink, which maraschino can quickly do. This iteration presents a well-structured drink that settles through several nuances on the palate and yet finishes cleanly. I was surprised at how much of the syrup could be present without dropping it off a cliff of candyland yick but, again, the drink strikes a nice even chord. Hopefully I’ll get to try it with Templeton in short order. Thanks for the opportunity fellas, it was fun.

To enter the contest yourself or to keep up with the submissions and results, visit the contest submission rules.

After the infamy and fall-out from my last absinthe post vitriolic screed, I’ve taken a bit of a hiatus. I’ve been preparing to attend the American Distilling Institute’s Brandy Conference in early April (which I will be covering here), getting the Cocktail and Spirits Online Writers Guild’s Group’s web site set up and preparing for its conference in July, and generally preparing for Mixoloseum awesomeness such as this week’s Beefeater-sponsored Thursday Drink Night. And, my oldest daughter’s birthday is this month, so, I’ve been a busy monkey. As you can see above, I’ve collected a few absinthes and have been putting them through their paces the past few months. My evaluation process is outlined in the original post in the series, but suffice it to say that I’m allowing the absinthe to express its character in a very specific way – by mixing it with sugar and water in various forms . This, to me, is slightly more reliable than drinking it neat (though I’ve been known to do that) and a better measure of it’s quality than dousing it in something like a Corpse Reviver or Monkey Gland.

This line-up includes Kübler, St. George, and Marteau; three very different absinthes that unapologetically commit themselves to the flavor profile and style in which they are made.

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Kübler Absinthe:

Kübler is a traditional swiss absinthe that comes in a very untraditionally-sized 1L bottle. The swiss “blanche” style deviates from the more common verte style in two ways: 1. there is no additional infusion of herbs after the initial distillation and 2: it usually features a lower alcohol content. A lack of herbal infusion in the finishing stage doesn’t necessarily mean an absinthe blanche will be less complex than a verte, but in Kubler’s case, it tends that direction. However, we’ll see that that isn’t completely unwelcome. Drip: Kübler louches quickly with a beautiful pearlescent blue-tinged colour that isn’t found in the verte styles. As an absinthe drip, Kubler is solidly two-note. There is a prevalent high note in the Star Anise area, with some fennel tones, and a low note squarely reminiscent of cocoa. In other words, there’s not much going on here except those two things and there’s far less herbaceous quality to it than just about any other absinthe on my shelf. Kübler recommends using a 5:1 water-to-absinthe ratio in a drip and I have to disagree. A 3:1 ratio is the highest you should reach for to get the intensity to make Kübler properly sing. Frappe: I enjoy Kübler in a frappe as it is simple, laid-back, and friendly. Unlike absinthes that try to do too much, Kübler kicks back and asks only that you keep your feet off its furniture and the music turned to a nice playful jazz station. Again, it’s not the most complex absinthe by a damned sight but, sometimes, that’s a deficit – as we’ll see with St. George. Kübler is an absinthe I turn to in a frappe when I want to introduce someone else to absinthe and its general charms or I don’t feel like being challenged and want to enjoy the sparest of them all. Kübler is a wonderful product with which to introduce yourself to absinthe’s core characteristics and work your way outwards to more challenging and complex products. And, at $50/L, it’s one of the best buys available on the store shelf. I also find Kübler my absinthe-of-choice when developing mixed drinks. It represents the base nature of absinthe very clearly and others might muddle the profiles of other ingredients in my experiments. Plus, if when my drink ends up sucking, I haven’t wasted $1-3 in the .5oz I’ve used. Kübler has been, and will remain, a staple on my shelf for its dependability, simplicity, and sheer enjoyability.

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St. George Absinthe:

St. George was one of the first U.S. absinthes on the market and I’d been wanting to try it since its release. Thanks to a good samaritan who knew of this series, and happened to live in San Francisco, I received a bottle. An arresting bottle and label, a gorgeous olive-green hue, and an appreciation of Hangar One and, by proxy, St. George Spirits, I was anxious to open and get to know this distinctive green fellow. Distinctive turned out to be the operative word. Drip: This is the first absinthe I’ve encountered where I would highly recommend using a 4:1 or 5:1 ratio in a drip. St. George absinthe presents an anise flavor in the front, subduing you with an, “Oh!, this is tasty,” lull of satisfaction, and everything that comes after is an assault of the senses and your better nature. From rosemary, to pepper, to camphor, St. George never settles and blends into anything coalescent…or completely pleasant in a Drip. There’s a lot going on, which I appreciate, but I prefer it have a central and consistent anchor around which everything else can orbit. Frappe: St. George performs much better in a frappe but still suffers from the lack of focus and a general busyness that fatigues the palate. The half-teaspoon of anisette serves to balance the frappe out a bit and, seemingly, help the absinthe stretch-out and relax without being so earnest in delivering its multitudes of flavors. It almost reads as an attempt to do Absinthe PLUS! and it just falls short of something glorious. The finish is still long, but not as excruciatingly so as in the drip. St. George famously slew the dragon and, in that vein, this absinthe is aptly-named. It is not for the weak, the timid, nor those for whom this would be their first absinthe. This is also the only absinthe I’ve seen, in my collection, to undergo the “feuille mort” transformation where it takes on the brownish hues of fallen leaves, likely indicating the quality and volume natural elements in the product, which should be applauded.

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Marteau Absinthe de la Belle Epoque:

Marteau absinthe is produced by Gwydion Stone, a founder of the The Wormwood Society whose mission it is to provide consumer advocacy and, perhaps more important, historically accurate information and education regarding absinthe. Marteau de la Belle Epoque attempts to recreate a historically accurate portrayal of the absinthes tasted by our forebears. And, if this is what it was, it’s no wonder it became as popular as it did. Drip: Firstly, I’ve tried all of my absinthes neat. Marteau is the first I’ve come back to time-and-time again to do so. Sometimes it seems almost a shame to pollute it with other lesser elements, but only almost. Marteau louches almost instantly in a drip and I found a 3:1 ratio to be just about perfect and the sugar, in this one, is completely optional. The first thing I noticed about Marteau is its heavy committment to fennel for its anise character. This allows the anisette character to come through without the cheap candy-like tackiness that can sometimes occur when star anise is leaned on too heavily to provide the base flavor profile. Its emphasis on fennel and use of a Spanish aniseed allows an herbal quality to join in that isn’t harsh but still balances against the more bitter wormwood elements. There was also a relatively unusual floral character contrubiting to the balance that I later discovered to be Iris . Frappe: The frappe using Marteau was the best I’ve had. Joana, after being handed Kubler (”Nice, fun!”) and St. George (”Gods in Hell, I can’t feel my mouth!”) upon being handed the Marteau version said simply, “Oh, that’s delicious,” and then refused to give it back. This presents with a clean and clearly-focused front of licorice and then finishes with a disinct bitter and herbal quality that still carries the initial sweet anise-character along for the ride. It is nearly perfectly balanced throughout and, at the traditional 136-proof, is simply dangerous in how pleasing it is. While I’m certainly not qualified to judge Marteau against the classic and lost styles from the 19th century, I can confidently say it’s the best in class of those I have at my disposal. My only complaints with Marteau are its availability and its price point. And not because the price point seems out-of-whack with the quality of the product or artificially inflated for marketing purposes (hello there, vodka) but because it will keep people from experiencing a genuine absinthe that presents exactly what a buyer deserves: no gimmicks, no artificiality, and no short-cuts that I can see. This is what a person should be confronted with when experiencing absinthe for the first time, and it’s a shame so many won’t.

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Kubler Absinthe Rating:

St. George Absinthe Rating:

Marteau Absinthe Rating:

Absinthe Event Announcement

Please join us on April 17th at 7:00pm in the Mixoloseum Bar for a chat with eminent cocktail writer and absinthe enthusiast Paul Clarke, Wormwood Society Founder and absinthe producer Gwydion Stone, and Wormwood Society Editor and Media Contact Brian Robinson will join us to discuss the history and tradition of absinthe and answer questions about present day absinthe production, tastes, and challenges.
Place and Time:

• When: April 14th, 7:00pm
• Where: The Mixoloseum Bar
• Bring: Questions, insights, and an open and inquisitive mind. And, hell, bring a bottle of absinthe along with you.

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As you may have seen in my last post in this series of absinthe reviews, I’ve collected a few absinthes and will be giving them my due consideration over the next few months. You can read more about my tasting process in that post but suffice it to say that I’m allowing the absinthe to express its character in a very specific way, by mixing it with sugar and water in various forms . This, to me, is slightly more reliable than drinking it neat (though I’ve been known to do that) and a better measure of it’s quality than dousing it in something like a Corpse Reviver or Monkey Gland.

But, in this post, I’ll be doing something a bit different with one of them. You see, something has caught my attention, and my ire. Allow me my traditional reviews of Obsello and Pernod and then indulge me in a trip to cocktail-blogger-hell where we’ll discuss Le Tourment Vert and all its ignominious and ignoble qualities.

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Obsello Absinthe:

Obsello has only very recently come to the U.S. and was the first Spanish absinthe to visit our shores. Spanish absinthe originated after many distillers moved from France to Spain in the early 20th-century and is typically considered a sweeter form. The bottle is reminiscent of a champagne bottle and is mercifully free of anything mentioning artificial coloring, a common problem among many of these. It also comes with a harrying and large wax seal around the cap. Several crow-bars, near misses with knives, and chipped chisels later, I was ready to try it. Drip: Obsello recommends a 3:1 ratio of water-to-absinthe. I don’t. Back this down to 1.5-2oz water to an ounce of absinthe to make it really sing and have the “oomph” it deserves. This has a very strong anise front that, thankfully, dissipates quickly. It settles quickly into a woodsy and wormwood bitterness and slight vanilla hints with a long long finish. There’s still a bit of heat throughout the ordeal. Frappe: This is lovely in a frappe. The thinness it struggles with in the drip is completely gone and the concentration of the Obsello comes through in a fine way. The initial bite of anise in the drip is tamped-down but lingers longer and a new cocoa flavor comes along for the ride as it finishes. There’s less bitterness and, all in all, it makes for a more pleasant drink than the drip. This is a very nice traditional absinthe that, if you can find it for around $60, I highly recommend. It pours a beautiful, and natural-looking, pale green color and louches quickly and in fantastic fashion. This isn’t the most deep or complex absinthe in the group, but it’s very respectable and you could do worse. Much worse.

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Pernod Absinthe:

Pernod, of course, is known as the “original” absinthe having started production in the late 1700s. It’s only recently reached Oklahoma and I was glad to add it to the mix. It pours a slightly yellowish-green, belying its FD&C Yellow No. 5 roots, but isn’t horribly artificial in its appearance, unlike some. Drip: This takes longer to louche than the Obsello but, once it does, appears creamy and lush. Pernod stands up in a drip better than the Obsello and asserts itself nicely with a more dry and herbal profile. The anise flavors are present, but ultimately it rounds itself into more gentian/herbal tones with a lighter hint of wormwood than most. The anise is also more of the “star anise” quality than fennel which leads to a little less complexity than I’d like. Frappe: Surprisingly, this dries out even further in a frappe. It made me realize that the sweetness I experienced in the Obsello may be mostly due to its creamier feel, as the Pernod runs quickly across the tongue. The Obsello’s frappe beats this hands down in terms of both pleasantness and richness. Unfortunately, I would look to Pernod Absinthe for dry and minor complexity as an absinthe for use in mixed drinks rather than featuring it on its own. It’s not a depressingly horrid product but as I drank it in these two drinks and let it sit on the palate it devolved into a sort of chemical artificiality that was wholly unwelcome. On its own, it leaves something to be desired.

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Le Tourment Vert:

I’m going to save you $60. Right now. Call your dad. Don’t worry, he’ll take your call . Ask your dad for two things, his Aqua Velva (Old Spice will do in a pinch) and a bottle of cheap tequila. If he doesn’t have tequila then Everclear will do. Or, barring that, a gun. Once acquired, set them side-by-side. Pour 1oz of your father’s aftershave of preference in a glass…down it. There, you’ve now tasted Le Tourment Vert at 1/30th the price. Your problem now? How to forget. You have two options, down the tequila or Everclear in one great Herculean swig and hope that the resulting brain damage erases the memory of having tasted Le Tourment . Or, you can make damned sure you forget with a bullet. Whatever’s on the other side is preferable, I assure you. Unnaturally blue, uninspiringly flaccid, astoundingly nasty, unfathomably thin, unsparingly acrid, and unrepentently synthetic it’s everything bad sex is, and more, and is probably the second-worst booze I’ve ever tasted. Thanks, Le Tourment, the torment is all mine. To add insult to injury? They’re fucking spammers. And I have something I’d like to say about that, meet me under the fold, please.

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Obsello Absinthe Rating:

Pernod Absinthe Rating:

Le Tourment Vert Rating:

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Upcoming TDN: DOM – B&B and Benedictine

B&B and Benedictine are classic and elegant ingredients used in a host of cocktails from the Singapore Sling (ok, *some* versions) to the Widow’s Kiss to whatever you decide to make at this Thursday’s TDN. THIS week’s special feature will be a LIVE! broadcast of the goings-on at the Monkey Hut where Craig, Blair, Rick, and special guest star Jeffrey Morgenthaler will be mixing and waxing poetic the whole evening. As always, festivities begin at 7pm EST in the Mixoloseum Bar.

TDN Vermouth Wrap-up

It was going to be tough to follow TDN: Mata Hari what with its awesome live action at the Tabard Inn and mocking of Oklahoma and sinking of such glorious failures of drinks as the Cannibal Curse (1.5oz Batavia Arrack, I rest my case) but TDN Vermouth came close. Vermouth, in many ways, gave birth to the modern cocktail and opened up endless possibilities beyond the simple “spirit, sugar, bitters, and water” make-up of the earliest cocktail form. The Manhattan, Martinez, and, in turn, the Martini, of course, being the primary examples of the explosion that happened after vermouth was introduced and popularized in the U.S. Whether our contributions will reach that same level of global appreciation and ubiquity remains to be seen, but at least it wasn’t for lack of trying:

Winning Drink

If I had no shame I would award it to my own drink, The Right Stuff, because the use of Pisco and how it came together was really sexy. However, the Financial District was a widely-tried and very well-regarded drink submitted by drink-well of LA who needs to get ahold of me to pass along his information to get his prize to him. Congrats, sir .

Financial District

• 1.75oz Bourbon
• .75oz dry vermouth
• .25oz coffee liqueur
• dash orange bitters
• dash peychaud

Stir, strain, and garnish with a lemon twist

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Other drinks you should try:

By beautiful wonderful, me.

The Right Stuff

• 2oz pisco
• 1oz bianco
• .5oz grapefruit juice
• .25 simple
• .25 curacao (used Grand Marnier)
• 2dash old fashioned bitters

Shake and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

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Submitted by Paul who warns, sharply, do NOT use McClelland’s Islay single malt for this drink, gabe.

Ex

• 1.5 oz sweet vermouth
• .5 oz cask-strength rye
• .5 oz Campari

Stir & strain in glass rinsed with Islay single malt

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Offered up by Rick who will claim it’s the greatest drink ever made, and is dead wrong. But it is awfully damned good.

Jaynestown

• 2oz Firefly sweet tea vodka
• 1oz Dolin blanc
• 2 dashes lemon bitters

Stir and strain over ice

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One of my favorites of the night, and a very classically-styled drink submitted by Jake Parrott.

R.W. APPLE’S ORCHARD

• 1.5 oz apple brandy
• 1.5 oz Dolin blanc
• dash peach bitters
• dash Decanter bitters

Stir/strain and garnish with a lemon twist

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Offered, presumably with affection, by Rick and Craig.

Tiki Antica

• 1.5oz Carpano Antica
• 1oz Appleton Extra
• .5oz dark Jamaican rum (used Coruba)
• 1oz Licor 43
• .5oz lime
• .25oz falernum
• float 1oz ginger beer and .5oz Blackstrap Rum

Kick Rick and Craig’s collective asses with a swizzle stick for throwing in the kitchen sink where it’s not likely needed, and then make think and probably enjoy it.

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Submitted by John, a surprisingly good drink that I would cut back on the orgeat with if made again.

Well Stocked Bar

• 2oz gin
• 1oz lillet
• .5oz cynar
• .5oz dry vermouth
• .75oz orgeat
• 1oz lime
• 1 egg white
• 2 oz soda

Shake, strain, top w/ soda

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As always, the whole shameful debacle can be perused, mocked, and set aflame at your leisure.

NOTE: In the future, TDN judging will be handled in a new and exciting way. YOU can be part of selecting the winning cocktail each week. The host(s) will select a group of 4-5 cocktails they feel are worthy of consideration and post them on Friday in a poll on the Mixoloseum blog. Then, over the next few days, try the drinks and vote on your favorite and it will be declared in Tuesday’s wrap-up. Viva la Democracy!!

Slowly, but surely, I’ve been collecting absinthes. Not always the most obscure of brands or styles , but certainly a fair representation of what’s found it’s way on the market since early last year when it became legal it was realized the 10ppm thujone restriction actually allowed for sale of many European products in the US. Contrary to popular belief, it was never specifically banned. But, I come here to praise absinthe, not to bury educate on it. If you have questions on absinthe’s production , hallucinogenic qualities , or deleterious effects I highly recommend the Wormwood Society’s FAQ section and forums, but watch your step in there, the world can be a harsh place.

The only things I really want to touch on, since most of these things are covered exhaustively elsewhere, are the traditional styles of absinthe and what I’ll be looking for in them in going through the tasting process. There are three primary styles of absinthe; blanche (white), verte (da green), and Czech. There is only one Czech-style absinthe that will be covered in this series, Mata Hari. The remainder will fall squarely in the blanche or verte categories with the primary difference being that a verte-style absinthe has an additional step after its distillation (when it’s a blanche) whereby an additional set of herbs are infused and, usually, end up being the source of coloration (i.e. green). This typically leads blanche absinthes to be more whole-heartedly committed to anise/wormwood flavor profiles and the vertes to have more herbaceous and “woodsy” elements vying for attention. These, of course, are broad generalizations that have, for the most part, held true in my tastings thus far. For more information on styles you can visit Chuck Taggart’s background piece on absinthe and New Orleans, this WIRED article on Absinthe’s resurgence, or this look at basic absinthe production at the Wormwood Society. Then, read on.

Tasting Process: I will be evaluating each of the absinthes in two ways, by making a traditional absinthe drip (3:1) and frappe’.

The Absinthe Drip gives the absinthe a way of explaining itself and revealing its inner nature. The absinthe drip, for me, is the therapist’s couch of drinks for absinthe whereby it reveals its deepest secrets and tells me what’s on its ever-cantankerous mind.

Absinthe Drip

• 1oz absinthe
• 1 lump of sugar
• 2-3oz chilled water

Place the absinthe in an old-fashioned or absinthe drip glass and a tea strainer or absinthe spoon on top of the glass. Place the sugar cube on the spoon or in the strainer and slowly drip 2-3oz of water over the cube and into the absinthe until, hopefully, most of the sugar is dissolved.

The Absinthe Frappe, on the other hand, occludes the absinthe’s inner child and looks to find out how well it plays with others. Yes, its constiuent parts are nearly identical to the Drip but the Anisette and shaking cause the absinthe to behave much differently and, essentially, reveal its mixability and complexity. Or, in the case of some, it’s insipidity .

Absinthe Frappe

• 1.5oz absinthe
• .5oz simple syrup
• 1t anisette

Place all ingredients in a mixing glass and shake heartily for 15 seconds. Pour all ingredients into an old-fashioned glass. I skip the water many recipes call for.

Now, what you likely came here for. Our first looks will be at La Fee Parisienne, Lucid, and Apsinthion, a Polish absinthe of neon sex.

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La Fee Absinthe Parisienne:

La Fee Parisienne is one of the two neon-green absinthes in this round-up that hearken to when not-so-savory producers were putting out product that seemed to exist for the sole purpose of contributing to absinthe’s illicit appeal and the ill-founded prospect of its hallucinogenic qualities. Fortunately, despite this artificial coloring, La Fee does much better than all that. Drip: In an Absinthe Drip this comes across with much less anise than most and presents a lot of herbaceous qualities and, of the three, comes across more complex. This is certainly the most vegetal and “woodsy” of the three and is pleasantly sippable. It louches very nicely and at 136-proof has a very light body. With this one, I definitely think upping the ratio of water-to-absinthe couldn’t hurt. Frappe: Somehow, in the frappe, the herbal qualities are amplified (the word “nettles” kept coming to mind) but are still not as complex or playful as the Lucid. In both, La Fee comes across as fairly dry but not so much that the sugar or anisette need to be bumped up in any way. Ultimately, I have to recommend this as a sipping absinthe that performs best when left to its own devices. The bitterness of the wormwood comes through and, for mixing, makes it limited in its application. It’s a pleasant surprise in a drip and a bit of an underperformer in the frappe. The labeling is lovely but, at the end of the day, it is not the best bargain for its quality. It’s not abysmal, by any means, but it’s also not bowl-me-over-wonderful.

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Apsinthion:

Apsinthion is one of those neon beasts that promotes itself as a high-thujone absinthe and seems to start at the point of wanting to attract exactly the wrong sort of drinker. It’s produced in Poland and there’s some dispute as to whether it’s actually distilled or an amalgamation of oils, neutral spirit, and other chemicals. Either way, I was curious how it would perform against the new vanguard of European absinthe products making their way into the U.S. market. Drip: There is a lot of heat in a drip made with Apsinthion and it has a strong Good n’ Plenty character. This, essentially, is not a good thing. It’s mint-heavy, wormwood-weak, and overly-simple. It seems sugared and has an undefinable saccharin character that makes one want to move on, and quickly. Frappe: In a frappe, the Apsinthion just makes you appreciate how much a quality absinthe brings tot he table. Apsinthion comes across as dry, unmelded, and with a certain uncomplicated toothpaste quality. If you accidentally stumble on this product, skip it entirely. If you’re striving for a simple licorice flavor with little complexity, look for a pastis such as Pernod or Ricard and you’ll be much happier for it. If you’re looking for a simpler absinthe, well, you could still do better.

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Lucid:

Lucid, as you probably know, was one of the first true absinthes to bring absinthe back-to-market in the U.S. in 2008. It’s eye-catching bottle (har har) has turned some off as it doesn’t speak to the quality of the product or its origins. However, Lucid is distilled in France and seemingly tries to capture the traditional style of an absinthe verte. How well it actually performs, though, is another matter. Drip: The first thing I notice about Lucid is how easily it louches and the oils precipitate once water is added. It has a lovely milky, almost violet, color that is mesmerizing and a joy to watch. However, once hitting the palate it has a heavily-bodied coating effect that produces a sort of numbing quality. This leaves the impression that the only thing Lucid has to offer is a black licorice character that leaves you wanting more…of….something more. Frappe: However, in a frappe, Lucid practically sings. It was nearly impossible for me to pick apart all of the flavors dancing around but nearly all of them were pleasant. Joana and I both described this as “playful” with thoughts of tinkling piano keys invading our thoughts. The flavors that came to bear had more ruddish complexity than what it presented in the Drip, a most welcome development. I highly recommend this as an absinthe to be used for mixing. it relies heavily on an broad anise flavor but still has something to bring to the party with a nice balance of dry and sweet. However, at the price, Kubler may be a better option if you’re buying an absinthe almost strictly for mixing. However, you could do far worse either way, just ask the Poles.

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La Fee Parisienne Rating:

Apsinthion Rating:

Lucid Rating:

The final Thursday Drink Night of 2008 brought us Sandeman Port as a theme and, I must say, I was surprised at both the volume of turn-out and the general quality of the drinks offered up throughout the evening.

Port can have a tough time in cocktails and Sandeman’s 10-year Tawny and Founder’s Reserve (a ruby-styled port) both earned my respect as ingredients that bring a unique character to cocktails and, generally, can stand up to the bolder flavors and profiles of juices, spirits, and liqueurs with which they’re mixed, a problem I’ve often had when trying to work port into a drink. Hell, we even had a submission using a healthy dose of flaming absinthe that the port stood up to, so that’s saying something. All that being said, I’ve only found a couple of port recipes that I’ve put in standard rotation but another I’ll add to the list is Logan’s Harbor, submitted that night by JenTiki.

Logan’s Harbor

• 2oz Sandeman Founders Reserve
• 1 1/2oz Domaine de Canton
• 1/2oz lemon Juice
• club soda, to top
• lemon peel, for garnish

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Top with club soda and garnish with a lemon twist.

Originally called “The Prestige” (apparently there was already a drink named this, but not as a nod to Hugh Jackman…unless Hugh Jackman is 80+ years old, which, after seeing “The Fountain”, I suppose is possible), this drink has a very nice effect of adding a layer of bright spiciness on top of the ruby port’s inherent sweet character and the citrus adds just enough tart to keep the liqueur and port from running away over the hills towards candyland. In fact, as the drinks warms the ginger bite of the Domain de Canton comes forward and the port takes more of a back seat. This led me to work the drink with the 10-year-old Tawny port and while it added a more dry character it also lended an additional spicy edge that compounded the separating of flavors. So, grab the Sandeman ruby port for this one.

I also like this drink because I’m a sucker for all things fizzy and effervescent, except bubble baths…they’re creepy . There’s a nice feel to the Logan’s Harbor but it’s important to strike the right balance. Too much and you, obviously, dilute the drink (though the flavors tend to separate less) and too little and it lacks the feel that suits the drink best and the flavors separate more quickly. This means you should probably chill your club soda for this one too.

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Logan’s Harbor Rating: