- Enough already with the early-morning Tuesday flights. Next year, if I need to be at Tales on Tuesday, I’m arriving Monday afternoon or evening. Also, it’s impossible to get a drink at 6am in my home airport.
- Always eat when you’re offered food, especially if said food is free. You’ll be drinking the rest of the day; you need something to absorb the booze.
- Ditto for water. The bottles of Fiji they offer at every session and in every tasting room? I drink more bottles of Fiji water in five days at Tales than I do the rest of the year.
- You really don’t have to finish every drink that’s offered at seminars. I relearn this lesson every year, and will probably continue to relearn it.
- The Cocktail Apprentices, or CAPs, work their asses off. They deserve to be thanked by name at every panel, by every moderator. I saw Eric Seed do this on the Full Proof/Overproof panel and vowed to do it at mine. For the record, ours were Frank Cisneros, Hal Wolin, and Lou Bustamante.
- Enough already with the early-morning Monday flights. I was bored, bored, bored on Sunday (in part because I blew all my money on Tales and couldn’t go to Cure or Cochon). Also, it’s impossible to drink in the airport at 6am. Hell, it’s nearly impossible to eat in the airport at 6am, assuming you want hot food. Either leave after the last panel Sunday or leave later on Monday and find something to do Sunday night.
Number 4 in Bacardi’s series of short films/long ads has hit YouTube this morning. In the interest of disclosure, Think Espionage, the agency that produced these films, invited me to attend the premiere at Tales of the Cocktail on Thursday afternoon, while munching on tasty treats and sipping a Cuba Libre mixed by Bacardi Global Ambassador David Cordoba. Disclaimer aside, I enjoy the hell out of this ad. Filmed at a real bar in London (though the speakeasy front is a fiction), the film differs from the previous three in that it stars an actual bartender, Nicolas Saint-Jean.
[Click through to watch large, in HD.]
I expect this one to spark some comments and maybe a little snark. Bring it on.
This one’s quite a mouthful… Sunday morning, bleary-eyed and unhappy to be awake, I stumbled to the Royal Sonesta for Dale De Groff’s cognac seminar.
His panelists included Salvatore Calabrese, Alain Royer, and Olivier Paultes. Calabrese is one of the world’s most famous bartenders and also author of a book about cognac. Alain Royer has worked with cognac for most of his life and now works with Renaud-Cointreau Group. Olivier Paultes has also worked with cognac most of his life; he is now cellar master for Frapin and Fontpinot. And if you don’t know who Dale is …
So DdG started off with a history of cognac, the region and the spirit. He moved quickly through this material, so my notes are somewhat sketchy. He wanted to get right into the first tasting portion of the panel. We started with a 2009 distillate of cognac, bottled off the still. Not a lot of complexity to this, as you’d imagine. Floral (lavender, violet) and fruity (a hint of citrus zest) on the nose and tongue, but also quite hot. It needed a few drops of water to open it up and get past the alcohol burn. We moved on to a VSOP Frapin, then a VSOP Château Montifaud and an XO Château de Fontpinot. I’m pretty inexperienced when it comes to cognacs of this caliber, so I don’t really trust my tasting notes. I’ll just say I thought the Fontpinot was just gorgeous, though.
A quick aside here: if I remember Dale’s definition correctly, in cognac terms, a château is a single house producing all its own cognac. These cognacs don’t blend their cognacs with distillates from other houses, like mass-market cognacs do. This is, in a rough sense, analogous to a single-malt scotch.
The final cognac tested was called Vat 49, and it was unusual. It’s from the Forgotten Casks program imported by Preiss Imports. A blend of older cognacs, containing brandies from 1904 and 1955. Interesting and a bit of a challenge.
Next part of the panel dealt with still construction in the cognac region, and this part was great. Royer played a video showing craftsmen taking a flat sheet of copper and hammering, bending, and shaping it into the rounded wall of the boiler. Someone interrupted with a question to Royer: “What’s the price of a cognac still these days?” Answer: “A Ferrari.” As labor intensive as it is to build one, I’m not surprised.
We were running low on time at this point, but Calabrese, the mad bastard, had a couple of surprises for us. First up, a pre-phyloxera cognac from 1865. That’s Eighteen Sixty-Five, the year Abraham Lincoln was assassinated. Phyloxera is a pest that nearly destroyed the European wine industry in the late 1800s. The only salvation was to take European vines and graft them onto North American rootstock, which had evolved alongside phyloxera and was thus resistant. Many wine and brandy experts insist that pre-phyloxera wines and brandies were much different in flavor and character from today’s. I don’t know the provenance of the stuff that Calabrese brought along, but it’s a survivor. I thought it nosed like a madeira or a sherry, and caught a lot of complex aromas, but I also thought that the flavor was a little flat.
However, it was the other surprise that was a true treat, an 1805 Sazerac cognac.
A little history here: when the Sazerac cocktail–now rye whiskey, sugar, absinthe, and Peychaud’s bitters–was originally a brandy cocktail. And the brandy of choice was Sazerac. From what I can tell, though, the Sazerac cognac succumbed to the phyloxera pest. A bottle from 1805 is a rare thing indeed.
Which made it surprising when Calabrese mixed about half of a 200ml bottle into a Sazerac. I was one of the few who caught a sip of it, and zoh-mah-gah. The drink was far richer and more complex than any Sazerac I’ve made or tasted with rye or modern cognac, and I can reasonably suspect, a tipple I’ll probably never taste the likes of again.
Thursday morning, I had the pleasure of sitting in on the Botanical Garden seminar, presented by Charlotte Voisey and Jim Ryan of William Grant & Sons. Voisey and Ryan discussed the roles that various botanicals play in gins.
The seminar was lighthearted but info-packed. Four actors played the role of different botanicals and were decked in colorful outfits. At the right moment, the actor would come out into the room, dance or strut or even swagger around to music, and then exit. It sounds cheesy but it was actually quite fun.
Charlotte started, describing the history of the science of botany, and how our understanding has evolved over time.
They then split the world of gin botanicals into four groups: spice, floral, citrus, and other. They said there was honestly no better term they could derive than “other.” In spice, they covered first the biggie: juniper. They worked through coriander, caraway, and cubeb.
The cocktail served during this portion was the Snapper. Their version included Hendricks gin, rice wine vinegar, spices and a float of port.
They moved on to citrus: orange peel, lemon peel. They use a bitter orange, like that found in marmalade, for Hendrick’s. As for the lemon, it’s there to help correct and soften other flavors. Cocktail was the Citrus Fizz, in which they tried to layer the citrus flavors in the drink. It was gin, Solerna Blood Orange Liqueur, creme de violette, rhubarb bitters, and the juices of orange, lemon, and lime.
Among the floral botanicals used in making Hendricks are chamomile, elderflower; meadowsweet, and rose petal. The cocktail served here was the Pall Mall Punch: Hendricks, chamomile tea, lemon, honey syrup, and Peychaud’s. Lovely drink.
Finally, the elusive “other.” Just three things here, one of which will certainly not surprise anyone: first, angelica root, and orris root and the non-shocker, cucumber. I was interested to learn that cucumber’s essential oils are too low to be added in distillation, so they’re infused in afterward. For this round, they served up the La Luna, which was really kind of fun, but a little strong: Hendricks, cucumber juice, jalapeno syrup, and lime. A very green drink.
So it begins… Tuesday, I hit the ground in New Orleans, after waking up at too-early-o-clock for my flight. After an exhausting morning of travel, I checked in to the Monteleone and came down shortly after for my first drink at the Carousel Bar, a Sazerac.
In short order, I met up with the ladies of LUPEC Boston, who aren’t normally as fuzzy as Pink Lady is, here:
They were off to Coop’s Place for lunch, and asked me to join them.
Soon, the Pacific Northwest fell upon us, with a stray Texan in tow.
Later, it was off to d.b.a. for the Tuesday Tasting. Organized by Jake Parrott, the tasting is a venue in which anyone interested can bring a sample bottle of some obscure booze, whether found in your grandma’s private closet or made at home.
Talking to bartenders, reading blogs, I’ve noticed a trend rising over the last several months: you take a classic whiskey cocktail, such as the Manhattan or the Sazerac, and you swap in an unaged (“white”) whiskey for the brown stuff. If you’re not familiar with white whiskies, they’re nothing more than unaged whiskies that have never seen a barrel. Spirits straight from the still, and cut with water (in most cases). You can say they’re like moonshine, but the key point here is that moonshine by definition is illegal. As my friend Matthew Rowley wrote, “If you can you buy it in liquor stores, it’s not moonshine.” (For more information: Simonson, Clarke, Cecchini, Rowley)
Legal white-dog whiskies, as the unaged stuff is called, aren’t exactly new to the market. I tasted some at Tales of the Cocktail in 2008. But they’ve been slowly gaining ground among bars and consumers since then and started making their way onto cocktail menus. As I mentioned above, one popular way is to replace the brown spirit in a classic whiskey drink with a white. I wanted to riff on this, but instead of using a white dog, I chose Bols Genever. It’s a favorite in our household, a malty botanical spirit that’s the precursor to modern gin. Bols tastes uncannily like whiskey, so I thought it would play well in this type of preparation. I tried a couple of different ideas–one using Carpano Antica vermouth–to re-create the Manhattan cocktail, but this is the one we liked best.
- 2 oz. Bols Genever
- 1 oz. Cocchi Aperitivo Americano
- Fee’s barrel aged bitters
- Lemon peel, for garnish
Stir, squeeze on lemon peel, discard peel.
photograph © Jennifer Hess
Next week brings the 2010 edition of Tales of the Cocktail in New Orleans, and I thought I’d run down some of the events I’m planning to attend. My calendar’s booked pretty solid this year, although I have a bit of downtime near the beginning. I booked my sessions back in March, when I was a working bartender, so bear in mind that some of my choice had a lot to do with bringing cocktail ideas back to a restaurant bar. I could be upset about that, but as John Lennon wrote, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
Onward. Some of this is subject to change. Most of the seminars are solid, but I might try to move one or two around if I can.
Two years ago, I arrived on Wednesday and left Sunday morning, thus missing one of the seminars I was most interested in, St. John Frizell‘s look at the life of Charles Baker. (He adapted his talk into an article for the Summer 2008 issue of Oxford-American magazine, fortunately, and the text of the piece is online at St. John’s website.) This year, I’m staying through Sunday and leaving Monday morning, also ass-early. Look for my bleary-eyed mug at MSY.
- Get up ass-early for a 6:30 flight from Providence to O’Hare. After an hour-and-a-half layover, it’s off to Louis Armstrong Airport.
- Cab to the Hotel Monteleone, where I’ll be crashing out for the week.
- Probably grab a po-boy and then hit the Tales Tuesday Tasting at d.b.a. that afternoon, which I’m eager to do. I love the d.b.a. bar in New York’s East Village. I would sometimes take an afternoon off work and repair to d.b.a.’s patio with a beer, a good book, and a cigar. I’ve never been to the NOLA d.b.a., and I’m looking forward to it.
- Then, it’s back to the Quarter for the Tales Blogger reception. Then dinner, somewhere. Not sure yet.
- First up, one of my working-bartender choices: Liquid Disc Jockey – Controlling the Flow of Any Room. I will probably try to switch out of this, maybe attend Camper English’s seminar on presentations which is at the same time.
- Next up, the Beefeater Welcome Reception. The 2008 version was off the charts in terms of the amount of food served, so I plan to stuff the heck out of my face.
- Busy, busy, busy. First up, Botanical Garden, Charlotte Voisey’s look at the use of botanicals in distillation. Another event chosen to enhance my skills behind the bar. This one, though, I’ll keep because it sounds great, even to someone who’s “just” a writer/blogger. Using seasonal herbs and other ingredients in cocktails is my “beat” at Edible Rhody, so I hope to learn a lot that I can bring to the magazine.
- Then, At Full Sail, the look at overproof spirits with Audrey Saunders and Eric Seed. This one will be popular, I know.
- After that, Umami in Cocktails, moderated by my friend Darcy O’Neil. Again, a professional-bartender choice, but again, one I’ll keep because I like the topic and it’ll give me writing ideas.
- Then, another private event, one I hope to be writing about post-Tales.
- Spirited Dinner will probably follow, although I’ve made neither choice nor reservation.
- The Hows and Whys of Cocktails, with Audrey Saunders and food-nerd hero Harold McGee. This is going to kill.
- History, Science, and Creativity Behind Essential Oils and Extracts. Another pro choice, and one I might keep, although I may get into Science of Stirring, if I can.
- Hollywood Cocktails. As a lover of old movies and booze, I’m crazy happy for this one. I chose this one just to have fun.
- Another private thing follows, one that I absolutely can’t talk about. Yet.
- My big moment: Rolling Out the Red Carpet for Rookies. Assuming I don’t stroke out first. I get to share a seminar with the Robert Hess who isn’t my father-in-law? Damn.
- Blair the Bear’s Tiki Now! I think this one’s close to selling out.
- Paul “The Godfather” Clarke’s Art of the Aperitif. Great topic for Tales.
- Then, I’ll probably disco-nap prior to the Bartender’s Breakfast at midnight.
- A light schedule. Dale DeGroff’s Cognac panel to start…
- Followed by the Sprezzatura Bartender panel. I want to get the cut of Vadrna’s jib.
- Then probably just a few last drinks at Carousel with any other stragglers.
- MSY > CLT > PVD > bed for a week.
Rookie. Newbie. Freshman. Dare I say, virgin? Cocktail enthusiasm continues to grow in the United States as more and more people are developing an interest in craft cocktails. Cocktail bars are spreading across the country, and there are even brick-and-mortar stores now that sell cocktail equipment and tools. So, say you’re a bartender and it’s a slow night. You’ve got a patron across from you who’s finishing up her beer and puzzling over your cocktail menu. “I don’t really know much about cocktails,” she says. “What do you recommend?”
So, hotshot. What do you recommend? And if this patron becomes a regular at your bar, diving fully into the cocktail ocean, how do you help her navigate the shoals?
Tales of the Cocktail 2010 represents a first for me: I’ll be moderating a seminar called “Rolling Out the Red Carpet for Rookies.” My fellow presenters–Robert (DrinkBoy) Hess, Adam Lantheaume of the Boston Shaker in Somerville, Mass.–and I will lead a discussion of techniques and tips bar professionals can use to teach the world of cocktails to customers. Whether you’re a bartender, bar manager, brand ambassador, spirits writer, or other bar professional, we hope to have ideas you can use to turn a patron into an aficionado.
Robert will discuss his book, The Essential Bartenders Guide, as well as his work at Small Screen Network, producing video tutorials of cocktail recipes and techniques. Adam will describe the classes he teaches in his store and lead a demonstration of a technique he uses in his Bitters class, in which he provides a flight of martinis, each made with different bitters. We’ll all discuss our own journey from novice to knowledge, we’ll talk about cocktail mentors and gurus, and talk about perfect starter cocktails for newbies. And we’ll take questions and ribbing from the audience. It’ll be a good time, so join us.
Rolling Out the Red Carpet for Rookies
SAT, 24 JULY 2010
La Nouvelle Orleans Ballroom, Hotel Monteleone
10:00 AM - 11:30 AM
$40 (advance), $45 (door)
The martini: easily the most-often mixed drink in our household, and the one I have the most fun playing with. As Paul “Birthday Boy” Clarke pointed out recently on Serious Eats, it’s a much more flexible drink than people give it credit for. With the explosion of the gin category in the last few years, there are now many expressions of the martini’s base to experiment with. Vermouth, however…
Until recently, most elbow-benders didn’t have much choice in the vermouth market. You could find Noilly Prat, Cinzano, and Martini & Rossi just about anywhere. If you were in a larger market, you could probably Boissiere and Stock, as well. In the last couple of years, though, that’s changed. I won’t say the category has exploded, but some excellent new vermouths are on the market now, and if you can find them, you’re in for a treat–Vya and Dolin immediately come to mind.
Further, if you expand your definition of martini to include a drink mixed with other fortified wines or aperitifs–sherry, Lillet Blanc, Cocchi Americano, or Bonal Gentiane-Quina, for example–you open up for yourself a number of new avenues for combinations. Until early this year, however, my options in Rhode Island were rather limited. Now, though, the Haus Alpenz portfolio is available to us, and I already have several nearby stores that carry the line of Dolin vermouths. (And I’m working them on the Americano and Bonal.)
With that in mind, it’s time to start playing. The game is, here, I’ll be mixing up various variations on the martini–different proportions, different ingredient combinations, etc. I want to get to a point where I can say, “Hey, I really like Bonal with Plymouth, and I also think Dolin’s the perfect partner with Tanqueray.” (These are just examples, of course; I’ve never mixed them that way yet.)
I’ll begin by tackling the De Voto recipe that Paul mentions in his SE column. In his newly reissued (and handsome) book The Hour: A Cocktail Manifesto, first published in 1948, the author and literary critic Bernard De Voto wrote of the martini that …
[t]here is a point at which the marriage of gin and vermouth is consummated. It varies a little with the constituents, but for a gin of 94.4 proof and a harmonious vermouth it may be generalized at about 3.7 to one. And that is not only the proper proportion but the critical one; if you use less gin it is a marriage in name only and the name is not martini. You get a drinkable and even pleasurable result, but not art’s sunburst of imagined delight becoming real. Happily, the upper limit is not so fixed; you may make it four to one or a little more than that, which is a comfort if you cannot do fractions in your head and an assurance when you must use an unfamiliar gin.
Now, most people would probably skip the 3.7 nonsense and go right for the 4:1 measure. After all, that’s easy. If you’re stirring for two, that’s 4 oz. gin and 1 oz. vermouth. For one person, it’s a snap to halve that. But how do you measure 3.7 or 7.4 or 1.85 ounces of anything? I always hit that roadblock and never went farther.
But I’ve been reading one of De Voto’s contemporaries lately, the gourmet, railroad aficionado, bon vivant, boulevardier, and long-time newspaper columnist Lucius Beebe. He wrote of a 1963 trip to Boston, in which he luncheoned in the private Union Club. He writes of their martinis that they’re “magnificent” and mixed “precisely according to the immutable formula laid down by the late Bernard De Voto.”
So to hell with it. I’m a geek, there’s gotta be a way to hack this. I remembered my digital kitchen scale. I placed a mixing tin on the scale and zeroed out the weight. Then I carefully poured 37 grams of water into the tin. That’s a little over 1-1/4 oz. but not quite 1-1/3. Okay, I could work with that. Take 37 grams of gin, 10 grams of vermouth; then it’s simply a matter of scaling that up to make two cocktails. I still needed the digital magic machine to get the right measure, but fine. Anything for you, dear ones.
De Voto Martini for Two
- 148 grams gin (I used Bombay, which isn’t quite up to De Voto’s standard of 94.4 proof, but it was good)
- 40 grams Dolin dry vermouth
- lemon twist, for garnish (upon which De Voto simply insists)
Stir, dammit. Garnish.
Prior to dilution, that comes out to 188 grams or approximately 6.63 oz. for two cocktails. Just about perfect for my glass size, with a little left in the mixing glass. Now, an Imperial variation.
De Voto Martini for Two, Imperial
- 5-1/2 oz. gin
- 1-1/2 oz. vermouth
- lemon twist
Stir, dammit. Garnish.
That’s not quite to the 3.7 standard, but it’s as close as you’ll probably come with traditional bar measures. That gives you 7 oz. of martini, prior to dilution, for a ratio of 3.66667 to 1.
And now even I’m weirded out by the geekery of this post.
DISCLAIMER: I was sent a review copy of The Hour.