Category Archives: Cocktails

Good Friday may get all the Bloody Mary glory, but Easter morning should come with its own set of cocktails to get use through the family dinners and pastel nightmares this holiday can bring. To that end I’m giving you a few links to drinks that would work mighty well when you need a bit more than church wine. The first is my go-to Easter classic, the Ramos Gin Fizz. If you put an egg white in it, what’s to stop it from being breakfast? The second is a recent addition to my cocktail arsenal: the Grasshopper. Think of it as the sweet antithesis to the savory Bloody Mary (Mary’s holier-than-thou cousin perhaps). Third, the Aviation, which is lovely enough to impress for the church set, and potent enough to allow you to put up with them. 

The common denominator to the first two options is the cream that lends them a morning-coffee feel. It blunts the edges of the liquor, softening the harshness at such an early hour. It also adds some fatty richness to the whole affair, wrapping everything in gauzy colloidal suspension – the perfect sort of Easter wrap for pastel decadence. As for the Aviation, it’s pretty enough to stand on its own without the cream. 

Last year was all about the Ketel One Grapefruit Rose vodka seen in a photo in this post (thank you Carl!) – but this summer’s libation may have something to do with Hendrick’s MidSummer Gin. I love a floral gin – especially when making something like a lavender cocktail. This bottle of Hendrick’s may lend itself to something in the rose order of things, and I think it will work well on a simpler level as well, perhaps in a gin and tonic.

According to the literature, this extremely limited edition is already becoming scarce: “This one of a kind experience, like the gin, is but fleeting – limited by nature – but glorious while it lasts… whisking the curious to a heady world where flowers are at their most potent, love at its most powerful, and possibilities at their most infinite.”

All right, I’m on it. As the Countess once exclaimed, “Get me a bromide… and put some gin in it!” Summer will arrive before anyone is ready, and gin works best in summer. 

Sweet drinks are not my thing. I got those out of my system with a year of Amaretto sours followed by a few months of Midori sours, and then a messy couple of weeks of White Russians. After that, I developed a bit of refinement and moved into gin and whiskey, largely avoiding any sort of sour or excessive sweetness.

Once in a great while, however, and preferably whilst embracing a kitschy 60’s motif (cue a cute pair of garish polyester, patterned bell-bottoms and a flowy persimmon-hued shirt) I’ll indulge in something like the Grasshopper, in the same way I’ll embrace a Galliano cocktail once every few years. This one is really a dessert unto itself, and the recipe couldn’t be simpler: one part each of Bailey’s, creme de cacao, and creme de menthe. (This is a bastardization of the original, for which I used some vanilla ice cream and vodka in place of the Bailey’s. Desperate times…) It tasted sweet, went down way too easy for our guests, and made for quite an evening of fun. We’ll bring it out again next spring. This must be used sparingly. 

During this Dry January, when booze is no longer the standard liquid accompaniment to fancy dinners or weekend brunches, an arsenal of mocktails makes for a decent substitute for what so many of us love. A good restaurant will offer these, and my favorites always have some on hand. Still, when one is hankering for an accessory at cocktail hour and you’re not at a restaurant, it is helpful to have some easy options at easy disposal.

One of the best tricks to spruce up something simple like club soda or seltzer (in case any of the numerous flavored seltzers won’t suffice) is to add some freshly-squeezed citrus of your favorite variety. Don’t limit yourself to lemons or oranges either – branch out into grapefruit, clementines, or blood oranges. Each offers it own subtle shading to a drink, and don’t forget to get a decent outer layer of peel for garnish. Mocktails and cocktails alike need something to dress them up, and when leaving out the liquor in the former it’s important to bone up on the other attributes. When dealing with freshly-squeeze citrus, I’d also strongly suggest that you strain it before it goes into the final glass. I don’t mind a little fresh pulp in my drinks, so I won’t usually bother, but it makes a big difference if you’re looking for something more refined.

The second thing I like to use is a flavored simple syrup. Simple syrups are usually a mix of two parts sugar to one part water, then heated to the point of boiling and cooled when all the sugar is dissolved. Just about anything can be added to flavor these syrups – I’ve used lavender, fresh ginger (peeled), star anise, cloves, and various citrus peels. A few spoonfuls into a glass of seltzer is a much healthier option than soda, and you can control exactly how much sweetness you’re going to get.

Finally, while I’m not the biggest fan of muddled anything, most people love a mojito, and they seem to love mashing stuff into their drinks, so for those folks I suggest selecting a fruit juice or a flavored water of some sort, and combining it with something to be muddled or mashed, or simply bruised and brushed: watermelon goes wonderfully with basil, mint goes refreshingly well with lime, and shiso leaves work magically with peach. If you’re fans of herbs, try some rosemary or lemon verbena or kaffir lime leaves – all lend themselves to a light muddle or a simple garnish to delight the nose. Thyme and dill can be used too if you’re looking for something on the savory side. The possibilities are endless.

A relatively simple cocktail makes its holiday debut, and it’s a little glass of rosemary-tinged juniper glory. At its heart is the blood red fruit of the pomegranate, married to the juniper of gin. Taking the edge off, and imbuing the whole thing with some sparkle is a topping-off of seltzer. The secret ingredient, and the potent punch of this glass is a bit of simple rosemary syrup, made from equal parts water and brown sugar, heated to boiling then imbued with a few fresh sprigs of rosemary for about ten to fifteen minutes. That brown sugar lends it more depth, and rich color, than the usual simple syrup which utilizes plain white sugar. 

The original recipe was found at the Riegl Palate, courtesy of Nicole. I followed it pretty faithfully, choosing a returning Malacca Tanqueray that was said to have notes of cloves, peppercorns and rose. That spicy background works wonders here with the pomegranate juice and rosemary syrup. I might try adding a little Carpano Antica Formula Sweet Vermouth on the next go-round to give it one more layer. The holidays demand a dose of decadence. Topped with some seltzer for fizz, it’s a bright and bubbly jewel of a cocktail, with a surprisingly rich undercurrent that becomes more than the sum of its parts. 

This is one of those cocktails that seems designed to show off its garnish: a sprig of fresh rosemary and a dozen pomegranate seeds which, depending on how much seltzer you add, will rise and fall in a festively mesmerizing dance. 

I love Campari, but I’m very particular about what it mixes with. Gin and sweet vermouth work best for me, as does a Campari spritzer, but certain things turn it into a fight. I thought that would be the case of the Tailspin, a variation on the beloved Negroni, utilizing Chartreuse. The idea of Chartreuse battling Campari sounded like a fight made in hell, with all of us losing in the end, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that this one works in unexpectedly-delightful ways. In some way it makes sense – I love a Last Word, and I love a Negroni, and this one is a bit of a hybrid of those tried and true classics.

The Tailspin

¾ oz. gin

¾ oz. Sweet vermouth

¾ oz. Chartreuse

1 Tbsp. Campari

Lemon twist

That lemon twist proves vital in giving this a distinctive flair, taking away some of the sweetness from the typical Negroni orange peel, and softening the edge a lime twist might have added. Despite the green of the chartreuse, the red of the Campari overrides everything, giving it a vibrant hue perfect for the holidays.

I’m not going to post the recipe for this Ramos Gin Fizz (check out this post for that) but I do want to put up the photo of this Easter treat because I like the way the scarf adds to its presentation. It’s also the perfect morning post (even if it’s better for a Sunday brunch) because it contains an egg white and some heavy cream, both of which personify a good morning. 

It’s been a while since we’ve hosted a brunch. Must rectify that soon…

Inspired by that seminal/semenal peach scene in ‘Call Me By Your Name’ this is an off-the-cuff cocktail I crafted in honor of tonight’s Oscar ceremony. It’s a little rough and raw, somewhat sweet and juicy as all-get-out. I took a good amount of peach vodka, some ginger liqueur, some peach nectar and a healthy splash of peach bitters, and mixed them with lots of ice. You really want to get in there and shake it up good. Keep going even when you think it’s done. You want everything to come together in one brilliant peachy explosion. 

Only strain out the ice – you want this one to be messy and murky, as if a peach had been pulverized in riotously unseemly ways. Find a pretty receptacle, add a willing cherry – the darkest and richest you can find – and let the juice plop in on top of it. Voila – the Decimated Peach. 

Now swallow.

When one is at the tail-end of a stomach bug, a little Italian digestif like Fernet Branca is the only way to make it through the last steps of a churning wilderness. The only cocktail I know that balances its bitterness with a deftly-integral orange peel is the Hanky Panky. Legend has it that it was created by the first (and reportedly thus far only) females head bartender at The Savoy’s American Bar, Ada ‘Coley’ Coleman. She recalls the creation of the cocktail thusly: ““The late Charles Hawtrey… was one of the best judges of cocktails that I knew. Some years ago, when he was over working, he used to come into the bar and say, ‘Coley, I am tired. Give me something with a bit of punch in it.’ It was for him that I spent hours experimenting until I had invented a new cocktail. The next time he came in, I told him I had a new drink for him. He sipped it, and, draining the glass, he said, ‘By Jove! That is the real hanky-panky!’ And Hanky-Panky it has been called ever since.”

This is not one for the sweet-loving faint-of-fruity-heart; the Fernet Branca is no joke, and most modern takes on this chestnut add some sort of sweetness (orange juice or other nonsense) to take the edge off of it. I prefer the original, just keep in mind that the orange peel is of absolute necessity. 

Hanky Panky

• 2 dashes Fernet Branca

• ½ part Italian Vermouth

• ½ part Dry Gin

This, to my knowledge, is still the only classic cocktail that shares a name with a Madonna song. Can’t hate on that. Well, you can, but you shouldn’t be coming here.

Killing two birds with one stone, I tried out a couple of cocktail recipes over this Super Bowl weekend for an upcoming dinner party at my brother’s new home. This is the Blushing Betty. Our poison of choice for the evening is a bourbon, and this recipe is perfect for the winter, when citrus is in season and the warming properties of bourbon at at their most expressive. 

Betty is deceptively smooth, thanks in some part to the Maker’s Mark, and the simple syrup that plays an integral part in its make-up. The fresh grapefruit juice is both sweet and tart, coming as it does during its high season. All in all, a happy concoction, and the likely signature cocktail for the dinner party. 

Blushing Betty 

• 1 ounce fresh juice from 1 pink grapefruit
• 1 1/2 ounces bourbon
• 1/2 ounce simple syrup 
• Garnish: grapefruit wedge or twist

When I was a kid, my family used to watch ‘The Lawrence Welk Show’ religiously. It was safe family fare (most television in the early 80’s was, for that matter, but my parents were so old-school they considered ‘The Facts of Life’ way too dirty for us to watch). We won’t mention what they put on television today. Back then Mr. Welk provided a super-safe-for-work alternative, and I ate it up. All those chiffon gowns and smiling blonde gentlemen… it was heaven. 

These days if I ever catch Lawrence Welk on PBS I pause and take a moment to enjoy the earnest corniness of the whole thing. It another era, and another world. Surely it wasn’t as rosy and perfect as they made it out to be, but we could always pretend. On this evening, I even found a Lawrence Welk cocktail, originated by The John Dory Oyster Bar in New York. It’s tequila-based, which at first seemed at odds with Lawrence Welk. I would’ve expected something on the champagne side of things, or whiskey or gin at least, but this one has Aperol in it, so I gave it a whirl and was not disappointed. The lime and Aperol combo is said to conjure a grapefruit in the winter. No time like the present for that. 

The John Dory’s Lawrence Welk Cocktail

• Ice
• 1/2 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice
• Dash Regans’ orange bitters
• 3/4 ounce Aperol
• 3/4 ounce Dolin Sweet Vermouth
• 1 1/2 ounces blanco tequila

Combine ingredients in cocktail shaker, shake it up, and strain into cocktail glass. (I garnished with a grapefruit twist to accentuate the intended effect.)

For the most part, I can make a pretty decent cocktail. Years of practice have refined the process, and I can usually find my way around gin, vodka, tequila and bourbon pretty well. (Rum and whiskeys remain mysterious, but I’m open to experimentation.) That said, I still get tripped up from time to time. A desperate attempt to make use of all the pretty dogwood fruit one year resulted in a libation that looked far better than it actually tasted. A pisco sour using an egg white should have stayed in its shell.

Then there’s this number, which suffers from the same fate of looking vastly superior to how it tastes.

It seems to be the season for blood oranges, so I picked up a couple from the market. Using the juice of one (and a slice of its vermillion flesh for garnish – the only time I like a slice in my drink) I added some vodka and Cointreau then shook it all up with some ice. (The secret to a good drink is to take ample time to shake and/or stir it with the ice. Far too often people rush through this step. I like when a little of the edge is taken off, and that only happens when there’s a slight bit of melting, and an instant or two of evaporation. Purists may scoff, but I’ve never been pure.)

Maybe the quantities were off, maybe the blood orange wasn’t quite ripe, or maybe I’ve just finally outgrown vodka, but this one did not turn out well. It did look pretty, though. Some days that’s enough.

It was a punch that was present at most of our childhood holiday gatherings. The Ko House always seemed to have a bottomless crystal punch bowl in which a fancy ice ring floated, keeping things cool from the very start of a long Christmas Day all the way through to the evening. At various times the pack of us kids would travel by and dip the ladle in to grab a few more drops of sugary sustenance, dodging adults and disappearing into the background, or so we hoped. 

This year I brought back the holiday punch, with a couple of twists. It came about out of necessity, as Andy notified me we had an entire box of Orange Dry soda. In the punch of my childhood, ginger ale formed the effervescent fizz, so the Orange Dry seemed a suitable adult substitution. It also blunted the sweetness, which I did my best to avoid (but really, a punch is designed to be sweet, to go down smoothly). 

The tartness was accomplished by a frozen pink lemonade. The current generation isn’t as familiar with frozen concentrate, and I’m not all that different, but for some reason it works in this recipe. I whipped up a batch of the lemonade, and poured a few overflowing cups of it into a bundt pan, sprinkled in a healthy pile of fresh pomegranate seeds and raspberries, then froze it overnight for the fancy ice ring. I also put a bottle of vodka into the freezer (or leave it outside if there’s no room) to cool that down too. 

Right before guests arrived, I mixed the pink lemonade, 6 or 7 cans of Orange Dry, a few cups of vodka and a cup or so of triple sec (it’s a big punch for a big bowl), then scooped some orange sherbet on top of it all. The ice ring, knocked loose with some hot water and careful maneuvering by Suzie, floated in the middle of it all. 

It wasn’t quite the same as the innocent punch of our youth, but it was close. Its spirit was intact. The memories it conjured were warm and fuzzy. That’s the best one can conjure the older we get.