Hearth & Home

Hearth & Home

After last week’s own invention, the Mekishiko Hito, I wanted to find another similarly smoky/spicy cocktail. Bourbon & mezcal seem to be fairly common combinations, but I was surprised to find this recipe from a restaurant/bar in New York, called The Daisy: this couples bourbon, mezcal and, to my surprise, yellow Chartreuse.

The combination looked pretty unusual, and the garnish (a burning cinnamon stick) just seemed to add to the madness. The blog where I found this recipe – The Bojon Gourmet – described the resulting drink as ‘bright, herbaceous & boozy with notes of smoke & spice’. I think I would agree. Chartreuse is certainly herbaceous, the bourbon almost vanishes in the mix & the ginger liqueur adds a slow burn. I’ll be making this one for Christmas, but I will certainly be making my own ginger liqueur for that version; Stone’s Ginger Wine is great, but perhaps a little too sweet for my liking, although its reduced ABV does stop this drink form becoming an absolute monster. In terms of heritage, it’s definitely come out of the whisky sour route: bourbon & lemon juice, sweetened by the ginger, is a classic sour mix; it’s the sudden appearance of the Chartreuse that is the surprise.

Recipe:

To make one, shake together the following:

45ml bourbon

20ml fresh lemon juice

20ml ginger liqueur

20ml yellow Chartreuse (the green might be too strong here)

After a good long shake, strain into a chilled rocks glass over a single large cube. Ignite one end of the cinnamon stick and either pop the unburnt end into the drink as a smouldering straw, or balance a shorter piece on the ice, as I did. There’s no need for bitters here (it is a sour base, after all).

Ward 8

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The Ward 8 belongs to a fairly small set of cocktail recipes, apparently inspired by political events. The story with this one is that it commemorates the winning of a seat in the Massachusetts legislature by one Martin Lomasney – with the eighth electoral ward being the one to return him the winning margin – at the end of the C19th.

I imagine the election was held in warmer months, as the drink is essentially a sophisticated whiskey sour, made with rye and a mixture of orange and lemon juices, so it’s a cool & refreshing drink, with a gentle alcohol burn from the rye. A small amount of grenadine lends an attractive colour, and acts as the sweetening agent. It’s a little too sour unless you have very sweet orange juice, but I wouldn’t be inclined to add too much grenadine to compensate; it’s slightly too cloying a sweetness & the whole drink could end up tasting like orange boiled sweets without care.

Method

40ml rye whiskey

20ml lemon juice

20ml orange juice

1/2tsp grenadine

Shake well over plenty of ice & double strain (for the orange & lemon pulp) into a martini glass. Garnish with a single maraschino cherry.

Sidecar

Sidecar, made with Bas Armagnac
Sidecar, made with Bas Armagnac

Following the disappointment with the Aviation earlier (too harsh, too acidic), I remembered another classic, lemon juice-based drink: the Sidecar. But, unlike the Aviation, this recipe is perfectly balanced, with proportions of one sour (the juice), one sweet (Triple Sec) & two strong (Brandy or Cognac). Shaken rapidly over ice, then strained into a cooled glass, the drink has a sharp and refreshing hit followed by a warming glow from the two alcohols. The combination of the two fruits, lemon & orange, are really well matched. I used the proportions as laid out in Tristan Stephenson‘s book, the Curious Bartender, in a classic 1:1:2 combination. Made like this, the drink comes out as a sophisticated relative to the Margarita.

Proportions:

20ml of fresh lemon juice

20ml of Cointreau or Triple Sec (I used Gabriel Boudier Curaçao Triple Sec)

40ml of Brandy or Cognac (I used Chateau de Millet Bas Armagnac)

Glass: 3oz Martini glass, chilled

Shake well in a shaker over cubed ice, then strain into the Martini glass. Without garnish is the traditional way to serve the drink.

The Aviation

20140613-223056.jpgThe Aviation is a cocktail I had wanted to try making for a while; I liked the delicate blue colour it always seems to have, and the rather unusual collection of ingredients (gin, lemon juice, maraschino & creme de violette – although the last seems to be optional in many recipes).

The recipe is a variation on a sour – the gin is given a kick with the addition of lemon juice, sweetened with the maraschino liqueur and given a little colour and flavour by the dash(es) of Creme de Violette.

Proportions – the classic recipe (using a jigger/pony measure):

1 jigger of Gordon’s gin

1/2 pony of lemon juice (see below for thoughts on this)

1/4 pony of maraschino – I used Briottet‘s version, marasquin

Dash(es) of creme de violette – Bitter Truth‘s violet liqueur

Glass: 3oz Martini glass

Method: Put all ingredients into a shaker with ice & shake vigorously until well chilled. Strain into Martini glass & garnish with a single cherry (or, alternatively, a slice of lemon peel; flamed, if liked – presumably representing a ‘downed aviator’…).

I wasn’t taken by the results of this at all, which was a surprise. The proportions here create a drink with too acidic an attack from the lemon juice, which seems to linger in the back of the throat. I think the proportions are wrong, and would switch the amounts of maraschino & lemon juice around. But the drink is undeniably a pretty one, and may well appeal to Cosmopolitan drinkers who want something in a similar style, but less sweet. Classic recipes leave out the creme de violette, but it certainly gives the drink an attractive colour and an unusual flavour. It is worth tracking down.

Recipe notes: The sour base of this cocktail means that it features in quite a few variants. For example, drop the creme de violette in favour of a few drops of orange bitters, and this cocktail becomes a Casino.

Historical notes: The cocktail was invented by Hugo Esslin in New York, whilst working at the Hotel Wallick, and first recorded in his book, Recipes for Mixed Drinks in 1916. My facsimile copy of Craddock’s Savoy Cocktail Guide from the 1930s, includes the recipe, but as noted before, lacks the creme de violette.