Mince Pie Old Fashioned

cropped mince pie old fashioned

For the last #FridayOldFashioned before Christmas, here is a Mince Pie Old Fashioned.  Instead of using the Mince Pie Cognac for this one, here is a more versatile approach to mince pie flavouring: a mince pie syrup:

  1. Warm 500ml water and 500g sugar in a pan over a low heat, stirring until the sugar has dissolved.
  2. Add 200g of mincemeat, bring to the boil and then turn off the heat.
  3. Allow the mixture to cool and then strain out the mincemeat.  Bottle, refrigerate and use within two weeks.

For the Mince Pie Old Fashioned:

  1. Add a teaspoon of mince pie syrup, three dashes of bitters and a barspoon of water to a mixing glass.  Stir to dissolve.
  2. Add two ice cubes and 30ml of whiskey and stir well (thirty times).
  3. Repeat step two and then strain into a rocks glass and garnish with a mince pie (you can tell mine is homemade!)

Cinnamon Apple Manhattan

apple cinnamon manhattan cropped

This week’s #midweekmanhattan is made Christmas-appropriate through the addition of cinnamon and applejack:

  1. Add 50ml rye whiskey, 25ml applejack, 15ml cinnamon vermouth and two dashes of bitters to a mixing glass with cubed ice.
  2. Stir well and strain into a chilled coupe.
  3. Garnish with a dried apple slice and cinnamon stick.

To make the cinnamon infused vermouth, add ten cinnamon sticks to a 750ml bottle of sweet vermouth and leave to infuse for 2-3 days.

To make the apple chips:

  1. Preheat your oven to 95’C.
  2. Slice an apple into thin slices and place in a 8:1 water to lemon juice solution for half an hour (to prevent browning).
  3. Place on a baking tray and sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon.
  4. Bake for 1-2 hours until golden brown.

Camomile Sour

Whiskey Sour by Paul Goyette, some rights reserved

There’s nothing better than a delicious accident.  I made camomile bourbon a while back, and, for some reason, decided to use it in a Camomile Manhattan.  Look, I was young, experimenting, and a little obsessed with Manhattans, I didn’t really know what I was doing.

Anyway, some months later, having run out of regular bourbon (shock-horror indeed). I tried the camomile-infused version in a Whiskey Sour.  What a revelation.  The lemon and the camomile sat so well together I now almost despair a little that I didn’t think of this in the first place.

So, making up for lost time, I heartily commend to you the Camomile Whiskey Sour:

  1. Add 9 tablespoons of camomile flowers to a bottle of bourbon.  Leave this to infuse for 24 hours and then strain and filter.
  2. Add a large measure of camomile bourbon, a measure of lemon juice, half a measure of sugar syrup and half a measure of egg white to a shaker.
  3. Fill the shaker 2/3 full of ice and shake well for twenty seconds.
  4. Strain into the mixing glass and then dry shake (no ice) for a further ten seconds.
  5. Strain into a rocks glass and garnish with a slice of lemon and a cherry.

Christmas in the Square

20131220-142412.jpg

This recipe came to me via @thecocktailgeek. His enthusiasm for it was so palpable: “the best drink I’ve had all year” that not only did it convince me (an averred mulled wine avoider) to purchase a bottle of Professor Cornelius Ampleforth’s Christmas Mulled Cup and add it to pretty much every drink I made this month, it also drove me back into the arms of a trusty old favourite – the Vieux Carré.

The recipe was also featured last week on @MasterofMalt’s excellent #masterofcocktails series, so I’m a little late to the game with this, but boy is it a good one:

  1. Combine equal parts whiskey, cognac and sweet vermouth, half a measure of Christmas Mulled Cup and a sploosh of Peychaud’s bitters in a mixing glass.
  2. Add ice and stir well for sixty seconds.
  3. Strain into a chilled old fashioned glass, over ice.
  4. Garnish with a twist of orange peel (Christmas tincture optional).

Gingerbread Old Fashioned

20131220-142158.jpg

A short #FridayOldFashioned post for the Friday before Christmas – traditionally a day when carnage is wreaked up and down the High Streets of Britain as office workers go wild with stick-on antlers and snowman deeley-boppers.

Personally I’d rather be at home in the warm in a reserved Christmas jumper enjoying a warming whiskey cocktail than out in an overly chintzy decorated chain pub downing lager or ‘draft’ mulled wine by the bucketload, so here’s a simple recipe if you’re of a similar mind:

  1. Combine a barspoon of gingerbread syrup*, two ounces of whiskey and a sploosh of bitters in a mixing glass.
  2. Add ice and stir well for sixty seconds.
  3. Strain into a chilled old fashioned glass, over ice.
  4. Garnish with an amaretto cherry (Christmas tincture optional).

* You can make your own by adding ginger and cinnamon to a basic simple syrup recipe (follow Nigella’s recipe here) or use the pre-mixed Starbucks or Monin versions that are reasonably easy to find in the shops at this time of year.

Christmas Pudding Bourbon

Photo courtesy of dannyasmith (Flickr), some rights reserved.

My aunt makes the best Christmas Pudding.  No, no arguments, it’s true.  So when I was trying to decide on a festive infusion and I threw the decision out to a Twitter vote between Christmas pudding and mince pies I was really hoping the pudding would win.  Granted a mince pie infusion would have been slightly easier (add mincemeat to bourbon and wait) but you can eat mince pies for pretty much an entire month or more, Christmas pudding is really only a once a year, or twice if you’re lucky, treat.

So once the decision was made – democratically – the next question was how to combine a Christmas pudding with a bottle of bourbon.  One option – following the 69 Colebrooke Row panettone bellini model – was to take a blender to a pudding and dissolve it as much as possible.  That required a whole pudding, so instead of starting at the end and deconstructing I opted to start with the ingredients and flavours of a Christmas pudding and build up.  To make 350ml (half a bottle of bourbon):

  1. Add 125g dark brown sugar, 50g mixed peel, 125g sultanas and 75g raisins to a mixing bowl.
  2. Grate the zest of half an orange into the bowl and add the juice.
  3. Add 1/2 teaspoon of almond essence, 1/4 teaspoon of nutmeg and 1/2 teaspoon of mixed spice.
  4. Finally add a cinnamon stick, the scraped contents of a whole vanilla bean and 350ml bourbon.
  5. Stir well and cover the bowl. Leave in a cool place for about a week, stirring once a day.

At this stage, the brown sludge looks distinctly unappetising, but smells incredible: orange, vanilla and bourbon – perfect winter flavours.

After a week, strain the mixture through a fine sieve – mash it right down to get all the juices out (and retain the fruit as an accompaniment to vanilla ice cream) then filter through a coffee filter paper.  Store the infused bourbon in a clean bottle and it will keep for six months or so.

And serve..? You’ll have to wait til next week for that…

Guid Auld Scotch Drink

Image

Let other poets raise a fracas

“Bout vines, an’ wines, an’ drucken Bacchus,

An’ crabbit names an’stories wrack us,

An’ grate our lug:

I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us,

In glass or jug.

– Robert Burns, Scotch Drink, 1785

Scottish mythology tells us Robert Burns, the country’s best-loved poet, was a hard drinking womaniser and given the lines he penned in praise of Scotch whisky, and the fact that he (allegedly) died of rheumatic fever after falling asleep (drunk) at the side of the road aged just 37, I have no reason to doubt this.

Even if Burns was wary of any more than the most occasional dram of the “king o’ grain” undoubtedly served neat – and while now there are those who continue live by the old Irish proverb of “never steal another man’s wife and never water another man’s whiskey” and then would consider a possible breach of the first part – the focus of all modern cocktails is (or should be) the subtle marriage of complex flavours, and as the defining characteristic of first-rate Scotch whisky is the quest for the same pleasure from the juxtaposition of oak and grain, why shouldn’t fine malts and fine cocktails go together like a country lassie and mawn hay?

So, however you choose to celebrate the life of Robert Burns this Friday night, whether by traditional formal dinner – all Highland dress, pipers and toasts to the lassies; by emulating the great man himself – in a night of kirk-defying revelry and womansing; or by sitting in front of the open fire and cracking open a dusty old bottle of “the poor man’s wine” here are a few recipes worthy of a “bardie’s gratefu’ thanks”:

The Bobby Burns

Given the bard’s distaste for bitter, dearthfu’ wines, it is unlikely he ever thought to combine his whisky with sweet vermouth, or (dare we say) tonic wine. In fact, it is even doubted whether the drink is named for the poet or the politician of the same name. Either way, we’re all agreed it wasn’t named for the Nuneaton Town midfielder, and it calls for Scotch whisky, so it’s a good a place to start as any:

Note: The original recipe (Harry Craddock’s from The Savoy Cocktail Book) calls for equal parts whisky and sweet vermouth and 3 dashes of Bénédictine, the 2:1 version is far more suited to the modern palate:

  1. Add a large measure of Scotch whisky (blended is best here), a measure of sweet vermouth and 1/4 measure of Bénédictine to a mixing glass.
  2. Add ice and stir well.
  3. Strain into a chilled martini glass and garnish with a twist of lemon (and possibly some shortbread).

David Embury’s version replaces the Bénédictine with Drambuie largely on the basis that it is Scottish.

Rusty Bobby Burns

A small step away from the Bobby Burns is its ‘rusty’ cousin which is a 2:1:1 whisky, Drambuie and sweet vermouth version with a double sploosh of Peychaud’s bitters or, more excitingly for Sazerac fans:

  1. Add a large measure of Drambuie, a measure of sweet vermouth, a teaspoon of absinthe, a teaspoon of maraschino and a double sploosh of Angostura bitters to a mixing glass.
  2. Add ice and stir well.
  3. Strain into a chilled martini glass and garnish with a twist of orange.

The Big Yin

While ‘The Big Yin’ usually refers to Billy Connolly, it’s easily applicable to any ‘big man’ and in the west of Scotland that’s pretty much anyone worthy of the name, so why not Rabbie?

  1. Dissolve a teaspoon of brown sugar with a little water in a rocks glass.
  2. Add a sploosh each of chocolate and orange bitters, a piece of ice, a piece of orange peel and a large measure of whisky (an old highland malt is best here).
  3. Stir well and serve with a twist of orange.

File:JerryThomas01.jpg

The Blue Blazer

The Blue Blazer is a true celebrity of a cocktail. The drink that made Jerry Thomas’s name (and probably lost him his eyebrows once or twice in the early days), it was the original attention-seeking barman’s act, long before the flash of caramelising orange zest distracted the Sex and the City clique. In the interests of safety I cannot condone the full Blue Blazer arc, a few simple pours back and forth will do the trick:

  1. Add a large measure of whisky (cask strength is your best bet here. Use an Islay or Highland malt here – something with a pleasant complexity) and a sploosh of orange bitters to a mug.
  2. At this point you can choose to add a liqueur, some spices or some fruit – purely optional, but Chartreuse and Chambord or Crème de Mure are good.
  3. Add a large measure of boiling water to the mug and ignite the liquid.
  4. Mix by pouring the blazing mixture from one mug to another four or five times.
  5. Sweeten with a teaspoon of Demerara sugar and serve in a tumbler garnished with a twist of orange peel.

The act of concocting a Blue Blazer requires a little practice (with water) to ensure you have the pour right before you add flames to the mix. Be sure not to burn the house down (even though you think it is what Robert Burns would have done) and don’t forget to extinguish the drink before you take a sip.

Sláinte!

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.

The Big Apple

Photo courtesy of mgarbowski, some rights reserved

This week’s #midweekmanhattan features applejack in place of the whiskey (yes I just bought a bottle, what of it?  It’s my blog…).  The Applejack Manhattan, also known as the Big Apple is an ever so simple Manhattan variant which pays tribute to the classic colonial homebrewed apple spirit.

The deep, rich, smoked taste of applejack doesn’t provide much distinction from a classic bourbon Manhattan, but some of the floral apple notes can be found, and provide a slightly fresher nose.  The taste is of dried fruit, apricots and brandy, which marries well with the herbal notes of the vermouth and ties in nicely with the orange bitters:

  1. Add a large measure of applejack, a measure of sweet vermouth and two dashes of orange bitters to a mixing glass of ice.
  2. Stir well and strain into a martini glass.
  3. Garnish with a cherry.

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.