Rusty Nail

Photo courtesy of Clearly Ambiguous, some rights reserved

Rugby and drinking go hand in hand, and you need look no further than The Famous Grouse’s long association with the Scottish national team to know that whisky and rugby are a natural combination.

My early rugby watching was done in sunny south London rather than the frozen north, so rugby for me was always associated with beer.  Normally the warm flat stuff that men with beards drink – remember the Tetley’s Bitter Cup and Greene King as ‘official beer’ of the England rugby team?   Even when I moved north, much of my rugby watching was accompanied by a plastic pint cup of lager for the Heineken Cup and occasionally Magners for the Celtic League, at least in part for its prominance on the shirts of Edinburgh and London Wasps in the mid-2000s.

Since then however, I have wrapped up warm for enough afternoons and evenings at Murrayfield and one particularly chilly November day on the Aberdeenshire coast where even the players came out to warm up in tin foil coats under sleeping bags.  As a result I have developed an appreciative understanding of the use of the hip flask and the variety of concoctions it can contain.

The obvious choice for the hip flask is straight whisky, but with tastes differing so much from person to person as you pass it down a row of seats, it’s far safer to mellow the whisky with the addition of a drop of Drambuie, the ‘satisfying’ blend of malt whisky, honey, herbs and spices that was supposedly gifted to the Clan MacKinnon by Bonnie Prince Charlie after a hard day at Culloden in 1746.

Rusty Nail

The original version of the Nail actually dates from the golden sands of Hawaii in the 1940s and not the West Stand at Murrayfield on St Patrick’s Day 1990.  Much like the Dry Martini, purists can argue for days about the ratio of whisky to Drambuie, but 3:1 is just about standard for your hip flask.  It can also be served up, or over crushed ice as follows:

  1. Fill an old fashioned glass with crushed ice.
  2. Add a large measure of scotch whisky (traditionally a blend, but feel free to experiment) and a measure of Drambuie.
  3. Stir gently until frost forms on the outside of the glass.
  4. Garnish with a twist of lemon peel.

Royal Nail

The Royal Nail is a luxurious alternative to the Rusty Nail, described by its creator, Simon Difford, as ‘two British Royals bittered by a yank’.  It forgoes the Drambuie, uses Peychaud’s bitters for its mellowing, blending effect and was a staple of my hip flask during this summer’s wedding season.  The Royal Nail can also be found ‘straight up’, but is more commonly served over ice:

  1. Add a large measure of premium blended whisky, a measure of Islay whisky and a single sploosh of Peychaud’s to a mixing glass.
  2. Fill the mixing glass with ice and stir well.
  3. Strain into an old fashioned glass over ice and garnish with a twist of orange peel.

Galvanised Nail

The Galvanised Nail uses Drambuie, apple, lemon and elderflower to smooth the edges of the Scotch.  Another Simon Difford creation, dating from 2003, it is usually served up:

  1. Add a large measure of blended whisky, half a measure of Drambuie, half a measure of apple juice, a quarter measure of elderflower liqueur and a quarter measure of lemon juice to a shaker.
  2. Fill with ice and shake well.
  3. Strain into a martini glass and garnish with a twist of lemon.

Cajun Nail

The Cajun Nail is a mix between the Sazerac and the Rusty Nail, which uses whiskey instead of whisky, ramps up the Drambuie content and gives us another chance to practice our Absinthe Rinse.  The Cajun Nail is best served over ice:

  1. Fill an old fashioned glass with ice, add half a measure of absinthe and top up with water.
  2. Add a large measure of whiskey, a large measure of Drambuie and three splooshes each of Angostura and Peychaud’s to a mixing glass.
  3. Fill with ice and stir well.
  4. Discard the absinthe water and ice (offer them to your customer separately if you wish).
  5. Strain into the absinthe rinsed glass over fresh ice and garnish with the oil from a twist of lemon, but discard the peel.
Advertisements

Highland Margarita

Photo courtesy of Jeanette E. Spaghetti, some rights reserved.

As I left work today I was convinced it was Wednesday (I blame the recent spate of bank holidays) and as such was excited to come home and write up this week’s #MidweekManhattan. Unfortunately it is in fact only Tuesday, so you will all just have to come back again tomorrow to find out what whiskey/vermouth delight I have in store for you this week.

I did, however, start thinking about an emergency T-theme for Tuesday (it’s been a long week already). The obvious choice was tequila, but I don’t have any in the flat. I then considered #TuesdayToddies but even with the recent inclement weather that should probably wait til the autumn.

So after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing (and some help from @princessofVP) I settled on the first post in the (probably not at all regular) #TuesdayTequila series!

Without any tequila.

That’s right. It’s called ‘artistic licence’.

Everyone knows the Margarita as the pre-eminent tequila cocktail and staple of the ‘sours’ stable. A classic drink, and one of the few that has spawned its own unique glassware, the Margarita dates back to the 1930s, and is a Mexican variation of the earlier American classic, the Daisy (which uses brandy in place of tequila). Coincidentally (or decisively depending on your view of Margarita-lore) the Spanish for daisy is margarita. The traditional Margarita starts with a salted glass:

  1. Frost the glass by rubbing a lime wedge round the outside of the rim.
  2. Dip the glass in a saucer of coarse salt (try and avoid getting any on the inside of the glass).
  3. Add a large measure of tequila and a measure of each of triple sec and lime juice and a barspoon of agave nectar to a shaker of ice.
  4. Shake well and strain into the frosted glass.
  5. Garnish with a lime wheel.

Of course a Margarita can be frozen, flavoured or served up with a salt foam float, but not being a massive Tequila fan – I blame too many years working in an Irish bar dealing out shots of the cheap stuff – and living in Scotland, I prefer a whisky-based drink, and for that I turn to the Highland Margarita.

First salt your glass as above (it wouldn’t be a Margarita without it):

Then mix your drink:

  1. Add a large measure of Scotch whisky*, a measure of triple sec and a measure of lemon juice to a shaker.
  2. Add ice until the shaker is 2/3 full and then shake well.
  3. Strain into the chilled and salted (margarita) glass.
  4. Garnish with a wedge of lemon.
If you’re feeling adventurous a barspoon of ginger liqueur is a nice addition, either added to the mix before you shake, or layered in after the pour.

* This being a Highland Margarita, a Highland single malt would be apposite (I use Oban as a matter of course), but this drink will work just as well with whichever type of whisky (or even whiskey) you prefer.

Jack Rose

Photo courtesy of Michael Dietsch, some rights reserved

The Jack Rose manages to neatly combine two things that have been on my mind for some time.  The sourcing of a bottle of Laird’s Applejack, and my study of ‘Fiesta’ (The Sun Also Rises) by Ernest Hemingway.

Applejack is a Calvados-style apple brandy, which has claims to being the oldest American spirit due to its roots in the colonial period.  It is made by ‘jacking’ (freeze distilling) cider, and may have been discovered by North American apple farmers who found that by periodically removing the ice that formed on their cider, they could create a ‘jacked up’ drink as a result of the concentration of the remaining unfrozen alcohol.

Because ‘jacking’ could be done without any complicated distilling equipment, a rough version of applejack (and by rough we mean head-splitting) could be formed by anyone with a surplus of apples in a cold climate.  Given its rough heritage, it is perhaps not surprising that applejack has been supplanted in popularity by the more cultured Calvados and traditional apple brandies.  Although applejack is no longer made by leaving cider out to freeze, it does only consist of 35% apple brandy to 65% neutral grain spirit (effectively vodka), so it is easy to get snobby about its composition when compared to even its sibling Straight Apple Brandy which is 100 percent proof and 100% apple-based.  Perhaps as a result, applejack is rarely found on the shelves of even the most comprehensive booze vendors in the UK, and tracking it down became somewhat of a quest.  Once found, however, I found it intriguing for its history, its promise and its fruit and butterscotch/caramel notes.

As for Hemingway, well, ever since the Death in the Afternoon, I have been itching to read some more of his work, and recently picked up a copy of The Sun Also Rises on recommendation from a friend.  One thing that struck me about the opening 90 pages or so (aside from the compelling imagery of Paris in the Roaring Twenties and the unadulterated coquettish nature of Brett) is the sheer volume of alcohol that is consumed.  From the Fines à l’eau (cognac and water), to the whiskey (with or without soda), via the Pernod and the wine, Jake Barnes and his band of lost souls drink their way through all that mid-1920s Paris had to offer.

Of these various libations, one drink stood out as somewhat of an unknown quantity.  The Jack Rose has many plausible origins, with the Jack either referring to the base ingredient, the Jacqueminot rose, Jack Laird, wrestling bartender Frank J May, Bald Jack Rose a 19th century New York gangster, or a 20th century brand of small cigars.  Of these, the gangster story is most widely-renowned, and I recommend you have a good read of the story of old Jack Rose and the Becker-Rosenthal trial as you sip the protaganist’s favourite tipple:

  1. Add a large measure of applejack, a measure of lemon juice, a 1/4 measure of grenadine and two dashes of bitters to a shaker of ice.
  2. Shake well and strain into a martini glass.
  3. Garnish with a wedge of lemon.

A wedge?!  Well, it is an oldie…

Calvados or another apple brandy can be used in place of applejack which can be a little hard to find in the UK.  Sources also differ as to whether lemon or lime juice should be used, so feel free to experiment with that too.  If you find the lemon wedge gets in the way when drinking, a slice of apple or a cherry is also an acceptable garnish.

Sidecar

Photo courtesy of Finger Food, some rights reserved.

The Sidecar is often considered to be the perfect beginner’s drink, so I am somewhat ashamed to make it the thirty-third entry at House of Bourbon.  In my defence, I am not much of a cognac consumer (outside of a Vieux Carré or Sazerac of course), so I have taken my time to get to this World War I classic.

The drink is attributed to either the Ritz Hotel, or Harry’s Bar, in Paris, where it is said a wartime captain was often deposited at the bar fresh from the sidecar of a motorcycle.  He ordered the drink that would come to be known as the sidecar as a pre-dinner revitaliser, and from that day on, the Sidecar has been a staple of many menus.

A slightly sour drink that has in times gone by been enhanced (desecrated?) by the addition of a sugared rim, the Sidecar is complex enough to be interesting, but simple enough to be easily mastered.  You proceed as follows:

  1. Add a large measure of brandy, a measure of triple sec and a measure of lemon juice to a shaker of ice.
  2. Shake well and double strain into a martini glass.
  3. Garnish with a twist of lemon.

The Bramble

Photo courtesy of aida mollenkamp, some rights reserved.

The Bramble stands somewhat alone as arguably the most successful creation of the cocktail dark ages of the 1980s.  This, in my view, is closely related to the fact that unlike many concoctions of that era, the Bramble is not garishly couloured, hideously sweet and does not have a name a schoolboy would titter at.

To that extent then, the Bramble is the atypical eighties cocktail, and it is therefore no stretch to say that the classic nature of its composition has contributed to its longevity.

Foolishly in my early days as a dipsologist I was led to believe that the drink was named for the bar of the same name in Edinburgh, rather than the bar being named for the drink.  As much as I wish this to be true, I have subsequently learnt that the drink was born at Fred’s Club, Soho, London in the mid-1980s, and was the child of ‘cocktail king’ Dick Bradsell.

The Bramble benefits from a clean, crisp and berry-heavy nature, and is effectively a simple Gin Fix with the addition of a decorative swirl of blackberry liqueur.

To make The Bramble:

  1. Add a large measure of (dry) gin, a measure of lemon juice and half a measure of sugar syrup to a shaker of ice.
  2. Shake well and strain into a rocks glass of crushed ice.
  3. Drizzle half a measure of creme de mure over the built drink and garnish with some blackberries and a slice of lemon.

Return of the Mad Men

Photo created at http://www.MadMenYourself.com, all rights reserved.

A post tonight to celebrate the upcoming return of Mad Men to our TV screens after a break of over a year.  This American drama, set in a New York advertising agency in the 1960s has been credited with sparking a sixties revival in fashion, and as part of that, in drinking fashion.  As a result, here is a quick rundown of some of the characters’ favourite drinks, as told to your host, on his internship at Sterling Cooper (pictured above handing Mr Draper his morning paper and Old Fashioned).

Vodka Gimlet

The Gimlet is attributed to the Royal Navy who added gin to their scurvy-avoidance rations of gin to help it go down.  The vodka alternative became more popular in the 1960s, and Betty Draper is partial to the occasional Vodka Gimlet whilst conducting extra-marital affairs.

  1. Add a large measure of vodka and the juice of one lime to a shaker of ice.
  2. Shake well and strain into a martini glass.
  3. Garnish with a wedge of lime.

Tom Collins

The Collins family were raised in New York in the 1870s.  Tom always drank his with gin, while John preferred bourbon, and cousin Juan preferred tequila.  These may not be a favourite of Sally Draper (we hope) but she’s been mixing them for her parents and their friends from a young age.

  1. Add a large measure of gin, the juice of half a lemon and a teaspoon of simple syrup to a shaker of ice.
  2. Shake well and strain into a highball.
  3. Top up with soda water, add ice and garnish with a wedge of lemon, orange and cherry.

Stinger

A classic drink of the fifties where Cary Grant and Jayne Mansfield shared them onscreen in Kiss Them For Me, the Stinger is also one of Peggy Olsen’s choices when out on the town.

  1. Add a measure of brandy and a measure of crème de menthe to a shaker of ice.
  2. Shake and strain into a brandy glass.

Old Fashioned

This favourite of Don Draper and yours truly has been covered elsewhere, but let’s just say that like your author, Don Draper can mix these like a pro – and Conrad Hilton can attest to that.

  1. Muddle a sugar cube, two dashes of bitters and a sploosh of water in a rocks glass.
  2. Add ice and a large measure of whiskey. Stir and serve.

Bloody Mary

A breakfast-time classic, and a staple of the Sterling Cooper meeting room.  The Bloody Mary was developed as a hangover cure in 1920s’ Paris.  Use pepper vodka for even more of a kick.

  1. Shake a large measure of vodka, a (slightly) larger measure of tomato juice, the juice of half a lemon, a teaspoon of horseradish, a sploosh of Worcestershire sauce and a sploosh of Tabasco with ice.
  2. Strain into a highball.
  3. Garnish with pepper, a wedge of lime and a stalk of celery.

Brandy Alexander

Another favourite of Peggy Olsen this milkshake-like drink was originally made with gin (an Alexander), which sounds truly horrific.  Try it with brandy instead and it becomes more like a dessert.

  1. Shake a measure of brandy, a measure of crème de cacao and measure of single cream with ice.
  2. Strain into a martini glass and garnish with ground nutmeg.

Gibson Martini

Roger Sterling, a self-confessed fan of only clear drinks, will opt for a Gibson, when a straight Martini just won’t cut it.  Just be careful you don’t have too many with your oyster lunch.

  1. Stir a large measure of gin with a measure of dry vermouth and ice.
  2. Strain into a martini glass and garnish with three or four cocktail onions.

Death in the Afternoon

Photo courtesy of Kenn Wilson, some rights reserved.

Today is National Absinthe Day (in the US at least), and what better way to celebrate than with a quick post about one of literature’s great cocktails.  Ian Fleming may have given us the Vesper, but Ernest Hemingway went a few steps further down the road to decadence when he created Death in the Afternoon.

The cocktail, named after Hemingway’s book about the history and practice of bull-fighting, was created in 1935 for So Red the Nose, Or Breath in the Afternoona collection of new cocktail recipes proposed by famous authors of the time.  Hemingway’s instructions were as follows:

“Pour one jigger absinthe into a Champagne glass. Add iced Champagne until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness. Drink three to five of these slowly.”

The great author was credited with the creation of a number of other cocktails, but it was Death in the Afternoon which was said to be his favourite after he developed a taste for the bohemian concoction whilst living in Paris.

Variants of the recipe also include the addition of sugar and bitters (we can’t stray too far from our original bittered sling after all, and what better decadent replacement for water than champagne?), lemon juice, or a garnishing rose petal.