Pulled in by Jupiter’s (Cotes du Rhone) gravity.
Pulled in by Jupiter’s (Cotes du Rhone) gravity.
Soft Dick (& Jane opening)
An illustrated guide to blackouts
I’ve had two of these recommended cocktails at their corresponding bars (Smoke & Flowers @ Hotel Delmano, Penicillin @ Dram). Don’t know if this is more of a comment on my booziness or good taste. Either way, I take it as a sign to go 12-for-12.
PS I’ve also had/made the Blood & Sand (of course) and Rob Roy. Curious about the Kingdom Come, Constantinople and ALL OF THEM.
And my chamomile Chartreuse cocktail was served warm in a teacup.
We upped our game. Instead of one blended (spits the word out) Scotch and a bargain white wine for the softies, we went with two bottles. It’s not any degree of tipsiness that made me forget the second offering. Rather the shockingly aggressive peat of Ardbeg smoked it right out of my brain.
This one’s a keeper. I still get an Ard-on even thinking about it.
I’ve been editing a short film for a festival tomorrow. I’d like time to truncate, so I’ve been drinking The Companion, a 9% “wheat wine” brewed with 55% new floor malts from Weyermann Maltings to celebrate the launch of the most comprehensive book on beer, like, ever. It’s lovely and punchy, but dry, so I needed to counterbalance. Enter the Japanese Cocktail, which was the first to fly under-around-into my radar. Dead simple, amazingly delicious. Observe:
Stir ingredients well with cracked ice, then strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with a twist of lemon peel.
In 1862, “Professor” Jerry Thomas published the first book to record the practice of American mixology: 236 recipes for punches, smashes, sangarees, cobblers, shrubs, pousse cafés, juleps — and cocktails, all of 13 of ‘em. Among them is this, the Japanese Cocktail — the first cocktail on record to have a name not reflecting its ingredients; an artistic name, not a functional one (there’s nothing Japanese in the drink — no rice fermentate, no soy, no raw fish, no cherry blossoms — ). Was there an actual connection between the drink and the mission? We don’t know. But Professor Thomas had one of the most popular bars in New York, when they were there, and young Tommy — “that risky young person,” as Vanity Fair dubbed him — liked to hit the hot spots. So why not go ahead and have one for Tommy? Beside, it’s delicious.
Chartreuse is the only spirit that’s made me see stars (yeah, that’s right absinthe). It may be one of my top five liquors, just on lore alone. I just discovered it’s matured in the world’s largest aging cellar - almost two football fields long. The monks can monitor the distillation process from 15 miles away so they can stay in seclusion as much as possible. It also came as no surprise to find out that the Voiron region, where it’s made, is awash in the stuff. The following passage made me want to book a flight to France, allez:
Its noble and divine origins stretch far beyond the Michelin-starred gastronomic temples and even the simplest bistro may offer Chartreuse ice cream or a chocolate-Chartreuse mousse. For more sophisticated tastes, chocolate ravioli laid in Chartreuse cream or chilled Chartreuse soufflé gently guide you back to the delicate savoir-faire of the Chartreuse distillers. Green Chaud, a frothy hot chocolate spiced with just a touch of green Chartreuse is the perfect way to warm up after an afternoon of alpine skiing. But perhaps the best way to appreciate Chartreuse’s complex aroms if the simplest: straight, chilled, and perhaps with a single ice cube.
I joined the social committee at work. Guaranteed free pizza. However, in between feigning participation while I worked on my iPadI began to make myself somewhat useful, with the occasional suggestion. But when the idea to continue the Scotch Thursday tradition from another office was raised, I found it difficult to contain my rampant enthusiasm. We shifted to Wednesday to not
fuck up the potential for Frothy Fridays (I just made up that term for pre-weekend beers). The only catch was, for political reasons, a bottle of Dewars needed to be present. So it began…
Am I more interesting drunk??
I work in Midtown. Make that “Midtown”, since most New Yorkers mock its importance and revile its very existence. In most other cities, an area with Bryant Park, MoMA, Rockefeller Plaza, Grand Central Station, Times Square et al would be celebrated. But what can I tells ya, tough crowd. Add to the ever increasing list of saving graces is an emerging Midtown cocktail scene. If you think about Manhattan’s countless classic old hotels and hidden haunts laying fallow, it only makes sense. Plus all the Madmen inspired
douches businessmen. The first two on my list are Rum House (pictured) and The Lantern’s Keep. I think I’ll pop by after a particularly frustrating, pointless slog at work. So pick any day really.
I was on a work trip in LA. We were waiting at the low hanging bar adjacent to the raucous main room of an Italian restaurant. I was separated by a seat from my colleagues, which had its advantages as a very LA barfly sat down next to me. I had ordered a cocktail to try Aperol for the first time. I was hesitant, since I had had my issues with Campari, but the bartender was confident, as he should be. My drink, which I think was close to the Paperol, restored my faith in bitter-edged, red Italian aperitifs. It also ignited an involved LA cocktail-scene conversation with the girl. Everything was headed in the right direction until, long after they were seated, a slightly covetous workmate came over and made me show my hand. Either stay at the bar or join my friends for dinner. I should have had another drink.
Shake well with ice and fine strain in to a cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange zest twist.
Words to live by on International Beer Day