Elderflower Manhattan

Photo courtesy of patruby83, some rights reserved.

Summer is here, and with it, our thoughts turn to clean, clear, crisp and refreshing drinks that can be savoured during those long evenings, where the sunlight lingers on the lawn, and the birds stay up late gossiping in the trees.  What place then for the #midweekmanhattan, a surly, autumnal, rich, spiced concoction that is surely best enjoyed from a leather armchair in front of a crackling log fire?

Well, my friends.  The Manhattan has another life.  Briefly alluded to in passing (see The Affinity), the manhattan can also be enjoyed as a sharp aromatic drink, the Dry Manhattan.

The Dry Manhattan owes much of its popularity to its association with Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack (although more of that another time), and can be spruced up for summer drinking with the addition of some quintessential floral summer notes; primarily elderflower.

Elderflower has a long association with the British summer, and elderflower cordial, made from sugar, water and elderberry flowers, is a staple of Famous Five style traditional picnics.  For those who look for a little more bite to accompany their cucumber sandwiches, however, a range of elderflower liqueurs can now be employed to bring that summer picnic twist to the Manhattan.

To make the Elderflower Manhattan:

1. Add a large measure of whiskey, a measure of elderflower liqueur, half a measure of dry vermouth and two splooshes of bitters (dandelion & burdock would work well) to a shaker of ice.
2. Shake well and double strain into a martini glass.
3. Garnish with a cherry.

P.S.  I am keen to try this with green tea vermouth, but worry that the extra floral notes might begin to dominate the whiskey in an uncompromising manner.

Breakfast in Manhattan

It’s been a while since I’ve had a #midweekmanhattan post, so I thought it required something a little special.  It therefore gives me great pleasure to introduce a new series for House of Bourbon: Breakfast Booze!

A natural progression from our existing tea-infused recipes, this series will branch out to explore other drinks which include traditional breakfast foodstuffs.  While we’re not necessarily endorsing the idea that every breakfast should include an dipsological experiment, there is something to be said to raising a Bloody Mary or a Breakfast Martini on special occasions.

The ideal cross-over post to launch a series of drinks featuring popular breakfast ingredients is therefore the Breakfast in Manhattan, a cross between a classic English breakfast Martini and a traditional Manhattan.  Perfect for anyone who enjoys an orangey punch to their whiskey cocktails.

To start your day with a breakfast-appropriate Manhattan:

1. Stir a teaspoon of marmalade with a large measure of whiskey in a mixing glass until the marmalade has dissolved.
2. Add a small measure of sweet vermouth and a sploosh of orange bitters.
3. Add ice, stir well and double strain into a martini glass.
4. Garnish with a twist of orange.

Camomile Manhattan

Having taken delivery of more loose leaf tea from the jolly good fellows at Jeeves and Jericho, I spent my Friday afternoon infusing some bourbon.

This time my order from Oxford’s finest tea-mongers consisted of:

• 65g of Earl of Grey (for Earl Grey Old Fashioneds)
• 75g of Dales Brew (for drinking with my Yorkshire buddies)
• 20g Camomile Blossom
• 20g Mojito Mint

Perhaps counter-intuitively given the name, my first infusion was four teaspoons of Mojito Mint in 200ml of Jim Beam White Label for one hour to create a Peppermint Bourbon for use in Mint Juleps.

At the same time, I opted for the same ratio of Camomile to Jim Beam to create 200ml of a versatile Camomile Bourbon for use in exotic Manhattans and Whiskey Sours.

The Camomile Manhattan I tried last night was a resounding success:

1. Add a large measure of Camomile Bourbon, a measure of sweet vermouth and a measure of triple sec to a mixing glass 3/4 full of ice.
2. Add two splooshes of orange bitters.
3. Stir well and strain into a cocktail glass.
4. Garnish with a twist of orange.

Next up, once I get my hand on some decent Sherry, is La Valencia – stay tuned.

Right Hand / Left Hand

I picked up a bottle of the ever-so exotically named Xocolatl Mole Bitters today, a cacao and cinnamon based cocktail bitter which is a staple of a number of Central American influenced cocktails.

Xocolatl Mole is named for the Aztec word xocolātl (meaning “bitter water”) which became known in the English-speaking world as chocolate; and mole (or mōlli), a traditional form of Mexican sauce.  As you would expect, therefore, the bitters have a strong flavour of spiced chocolate with prominent cinnamon and chili notes.

A sploosh or two of Xocolatl Mole is a key ingredient in a number of recipes; the most famous of which is the Right Hand, a rum-based Negroni or Boulevardier variant, which is given distinctive chocolate notes by the bitters.

The Right Hand appears to be a recent invention and is credited to Michael McIlroy, bartender at New York’s twin bars Milk and Honey and Little Branch, as recently as 2007.

1. Add a large measure of aged rum to a mixing glass of ice.
2. Add a measure of sweet vermouth, Campari and two splooshes of Xocolatl Mole bitters.
3. Stir well and strain into a cocktail glass.

The most popular variant of the Right Hand is the Left Hand, which is made with bourbon in place of rum, and a lemon or orange variant of either can be made by including a sploosh or two of the respective bitters and a twist of peel.

Maple Manhattan

Photo courtesy of swanksalot, some rights reserved.

Now that the weather has turned to winter again (at least here in Scotland) I can sneak in one of my autumnal favourites, the Maple Manhattan.

In a flush of enthusiasm I considered renaming this drink along the following lines:

• Manhattan is the most populous borough of New York.
• Most maple syrup is produced in Quebec.
• Montreal is the largest city in Quebec, so which is the most populous arrondissement of Montreal?

Unfortunately (for the sake of nomenclature) the answer is Côte-des-Neiges–Notre-Dame-de-Grâce – not exactly a name that rolls off the tongue, so this drink remains the Maple Manhattan.

The secret to any good cocktail is good quality ingredients. All too often I hear people arguing that it’s ok to buy cheap gin as “we’re only going to mix it”. While it may be true that cheap gin can be more easily salvaged in a drink with premium ingredients (think an Aviation or a Negroni) than it can when consumed alone, or just with tonic, with most cocktails, the finished drink can only ever be as good as what goes in. For that reason, buy the best maple syrup you can find and proceed as follows:

1. Add 1 1/2 measures of whiskey (bourbon or rye) to a shaker 2/3 full of ice.
2. Add 1/2 part sweet vermouth and 1/2 dry vermouth (I’m making mine ‘perfect’ feel free to experiment with different ratios of vermouth).
3. Add 1/2 measure of maple syrup and two dashes of your favourite bitters (aged whiskey or orange go well).
4. Shake well and double strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry.

Maple syrup and bourbon are a great combination, and the sweet maple blends well with the smoky bourbon to create an instant image of an autumnal bonfires of leaves. However, don’t let that dissuade you from making one of these as your #midweekmanhattan tonight.

There are some out there that claim the ultimate breakfast drink is a bacon-infused Maple Manhattan. All I can say to them is watch this space…

The Lemur Loosener

Photo courtesy of Eric F Savage, some rights reserved.

The Lemur is a Madagascan primate that enjoys a diet of apples, berries and, I’m told, the occasional celebratory bourbon.  Lemurs are very sociable, and a group of lemurs (is that really the best collective noun lemur-ologists can come up with?) can hold quite the birthday party.

I’ve never actually stopped to ask one, but I imagine that, when pressed, a lemur would enjoy the following concoction which I’ve decided to name the Lemur Loosener:

1. Muddle two slices of apple in a shaker.
2. Add a measure of bourbon, a measure of cranberry juice, a teaspoon of maple syrup and some ice.
3. Shake well and strain into a martini glass.
4. Add a twist of caramelised lemon oil and garnish with a slice of apple.

If you want more of an apple kick, add a measure of apple schnapps and, if you’re feeling especially experimental, frost the glass in cinnamon and sugar for some extra apple pie notes.

Sazerac

I must confess I was a late convert to the Sazerac.  Another cocktail that has claims to being the oldest recorded, its delightful combination of whiskey and anise is rapidly becoming my new favourite cocktail (although claiming to have a favourite cocktail is a lot like claiming to have one favourite song – no drink will work for you all the time).

The Sazerac was the original New Orleans variation of the bittered sling.  Down in the Deep South, just whiskey, bitters, sugar and water was not enough; the drinks required the added frisson of a touch of la fée verte.  Born in the Sazerac Coffee House, New Orleans some time in 1850, the Sazerac was named for the imported Sazerac-de-Forge et Fils cognac which was originally its main ingredient.  Some time between 1875 and 1879 while the great French vineyards were being decimated by cheeky wee aphids, causing production of cognac to fall by two-thirds, the cognac was replaced (out of necessity) with whiskey.  The fine clientele of the Sazerac Coffee House never looked back.

The essence of the Sazerac depends on the inclusion of Peychaud’s bitters, and some records would have you believe that Mr Antoine Amadie Peychaud created the Sazerac to show off his family’s old aromatic bitters.  Legend has it that Mr Peychaud used to serve his Sazeracs in a large egg cup.  We prefer ours in a chilled metal goblet (or a rocks glass will do):

1. Add a 1/4 teaspoon of absinthe to a rocks glass and spin the glass until it is coated with the absinthe.
2. Add 1/2 a lump of sugar, five dashes of Peychaud’s and water to cover.
3. Muddle well.
4. Add a large measure of whiskey and some ice.
5. Stir well and garnish with a twist of lemon peel (purists say this should be squeezed over the glass and discarded, mine fell off the rim just as I took the shot, so I decided to leave it in).

Of course if you want to add a touch of flair to your Sazerac making sessions, follow the two-glass method:

1. Fill a rocks glass with ice and set aside.
2. Take a second rocks glass and muddle the sugar and water.
3. Add ice, whiskey and Peychaud’s to the sugar solution.
4. Empty the iced glass and roll a wee sploosh of absinthe inside until coated.
5. Strain the drink from the second glass into the first.
6. Finish with a twist of lemon peel (discarded).

Good luck managing step five without pouring most of the drink over the nearest flat surface – it takes a little practice!

McKinley’s Delight

This week’s #MidweekManhattan variant is McKinley’s Delight, a fantastic adaptation that dates back to William McKinley’s successful run for the White House in 1896. While my knowledge of Mr McKinley extends only as far as the John Renbourn song, White House Blues, which I covered in a band at university, it appears that the story is that as McKinley’s rival, William Jennings Bryan, had a cocktail linked to his campaign (the Free Silver Fizz: gin, lime and soda water), McKinley had to have one too.

You see, back in the nineteenth century, cocktails had somewhat of a reputation as being aids to electioneering. The Balance and Colombian Repository had declared, when defining cocktail for the first time:

[A cocktail] is supposed to be an excellent electioneering potion inasmuch as it renders the heart stout and bold, at the same time that it fuddles the head. It is said also, to be of great use to a democratic candidate: because, a person having swallowed a glass of it, is ready to swallow any thing else.

As a result, McKinley’s team (I assume) set to work to come up with their own signature drink. I have images of West Wing staffers busying themselves in Toby Ziegler’s office, or perhaps the Map Room, mixing and tasting furiously, trying to find a way to embody McKinley’s love of tariff reform in liquid form.

After this, all history records is that McKinley won the election, and, as far as I’m concerned, McKinley’s Delight is by far the superior drink of the two. Perhaps there’s a lesson here, and a return to candidate-endorsed drinks is the way to liven up future campaign trails?

Anyway, politicking aside, the recipe for the McKinley’s Delight is as follows:

1. Pour a large measure of whiskey, a small measure of sweet vermouth, a teaspoon of maraschino and half a teaspoon of absinthe into a shaker with ice.
2. Stir well and strain into a martini glass.

The only change to my standard Manhattan is the replacement of a dribble of bitters with a dribble of absinthe (or absinthe substitute in those dark days 1914-2000), but what a difference it makes!

Manhattan

The Manhattan is one of the “Six Basic Drinks” as espoused by David A Embury in his 1948 encyclopedia of drinking, The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks. As a lawyer turned dipsologist, it appears Embury was on to something.

A popular but highly unlikely story (although one I wish dearly to be true) claims that the Manhattan was invented for Winston Churchill’s mother, and named after the Manhattan Club in New York City, where it was first made, so legend has it, in the early 1870s. With Lady Randolph Churchill as its ambassador, the drink first took Manhattan and then (arguably) Berlin through the actions of her son some 75 years later.

History records the Manhattan as the first cocktail to contain vermouth, a dry fortified wine from France and Italy which was developed in the late eighteenth century. Traditionally a Manhattan calls for sweet vermouth, but you can make a dry Manhattan if you use dry vermouth, or a perfect Manhattan by using equal amounts of sweet and dry vermouth. The traditional Manhattan calls for equal parts rye whiskey and sweet vermouth with 2:1 and 3:1 also popular – feel free to experiment.

1. Pour a large measure of whiskey, a small measure of sweet vermouth and two dashes of bitters into a shaker of ice.
2. Stir well (a good 20 times) and strain into a martini glass.
3. Garnish with a cherry and/or a twist of orange peel.

I perk up my Manhattans with a teaspoon of maraschino, a cherry liqueur from Italy that tastes reassuringly like Calpol. Technically this makes the drink a Red Hook, named for the neighbourhood of Brooklyn in which it was first made, but I think it is an admirable addition to the classic NY cocktail.

Aside from the dry and perfect Manhattans, the other main variation on a Manhattan is the Rob Roy which takes Scotch whisky instead of rye or the Brooklyn which is a perfect Manhattan with a bar spoon of Maraschino.

Whiskey Sour

The Whiskey Sour is another venerable whiskey based drink with a disputed past and a wealth of variations.  Whilst its sharp initial strike of lemon juice can be off-putting to some, it really comes in to its own as an after dinner drink on your summer holidays, and with a slight leniency that reads lemon juice as water, it still fits with our four key ingredient principle.

The sours are a whole family of early cocktails that predate their oft-confused but by no mean close relations the Sourz.  Sours are categorised, perhaps unsurprisingly by their use of a sour juice (lemon or lime) instead of the water of our traditional Bittered Slings, and other famous sours include the Margarita (tequila, triple sec and lime), Sidecar (brandy, triple sec and lemon) and Daiquiri (rum, sugar and lime).

The legend of the Whiskey Sour takes us back to the then Peruvian, now Chilean port town of Iquique in 1872 where Elliot Stubb an English sailor decided to jump ship and open a bar.  Stubb experimented with a range of local ingredients and settled on a most agreeable range of aperitifs based around the limon di Pica which he added to any liquor he had to hand.  After adding a liberal splash of whiskey and a strong dose of sugar to his limon one day, Stubb hit upon a delicious sweet and tart concoction which he dubbed the Whiskey Sour.

As is usual among drinks of a late Victorian vintage, the official recipe (should such a thing exist) is subject to intense debate.  In the absence of Elliot Stubb’s limon di Pica though, the classic method is as follows:

1. Shake a large measure of whiskey, the juice of a lemon, a tablespoon of sugar syrup, half an egg white and four dashes of bitters with ice.
2. To get the frothiest results, shake first with ice (twenty seconds) and then dry shake (without ice) for ten seconds.
3. Strain into a rocks glass with fresh ice and garnish with a twist of lemon peel.

One of the key variants of this recipe is to omit the egg white, which is only recommended if you find yourself in a Whiskey Sour emergency (who hasn’t?), or if you’re like me and can’t be expected to separate an egg white at a crowded cocktail party, or don’t expect to need a whole bottle of egg white in your fridge.  Ultimately however, the drink is much the poorer for the absence of egg white, so this is strictly to be approved for emergency use only.

A far better variant can be obtained by using camomile infused bourbon for a Camomile Sour.