I’m currently preparing a review of A.J. Rathbun’s excellent book, Dark Spirits, which I hope to have done soon. But right smack dab in the center of the book is a recipe that I just have to go ahead and blog. A cocktail with a name like the Bosom Caresser is simply made to punch up the traffic numbers via Rule 5. Sue me.

In concert with A.J., let me caution the reader about making assumptions. Just serving one of these is no, um, License to Feel as it were. On the other hand, offering a drink called a Bosom Caresser to the object of your desire is a pretty clear declaration of intent, so if you don’t find yourself wearing this concoction right off the bat, you may be on the right track.
As a drink, the Bosom Caresser is actually pretty decent. It is sweetish and very rich in texture. Use good grenadine and you have a nice little tang as well. Drink it quickly though, as it does not improve as it warms.
As for how it looks…. I did not do a picture of the drink for a couple of reasons. First, where this drink really fails to be great is in appearance. A great cocktail has to look good, and this one looks cloudy and a sickly yellow-brown. Second, if I did a picture of the drink, I wouldn’t have an excuse to post the two pics I am using which are so much more appropriate anyway.
Regardless, if you are looking to roll the dice, connubially or cocktail-wise, give the Bosom Caresser a shot, with a smile.

Via Bret Thorn of Nation’s Restaurant News, we have the latest sand in the gears of an enjoyable life, courtesy of our various fine governments.
The Man dropped in on the Pegu Club in New York City for a routine health inspection, and noticed the fact that they use raw eggs in certain cocktails. Apparently, raw eggs are illegal in New York, even if you warn your customers about their use.

Oooooh, scary!
(Original egg image stolen from here)

Guys, you have to use raw egg whites in certain cocktails… both old and new. Very few eggs in America actually have salmonella contamination. (Odds are, you’ll encounter one about once every 84 years.) Fewer of those eggs will actually result in a dose enough to get anyone sick, especially when said egg whites are mixed into a glass of disinfectant!
Now, I do understand that a tiny risk still exists, but I guarantee you are in a lot more mortal danger from the taxis and random New Yorkers you must pass simply to get to Pegu Club than you are from any number of Earl Grey MarTEAnis consumed once there. (Of course, if you are pregnant, the risks from raw eggs are much higher. But, um, if you are pregnant, there are a lot more dangerous ingredients in a Pisco Sour than that dollop of egg white!)
And why are raw eggs, even with a warning, a violation, while raw seafood is not?
Now, I am hoping that this is less of a pain in the butt than it first appears. Audrey Saunders’ FaceBook Page states, …we have to switch to pasteurized eggs in our cocktails. If that is all they have to do, that is in fact no great shakes. I use pasteurized eggs whenever I use egg whites in drinks. They only cost a few cents more, eliminate a microscopic risk, and are otherwise indistinguishable from regular eggs. But the other part of the story claims that raw eggs are not allowed. Does this mean raw, pasteurized eggs too? I’m pretty sure cooked egg whites in a Ramos Gin Fizz would produce rather sub-par results….
Anyone have some clarification on this? Are there any municipalities that do not allow raw eggs of any kind to be served? Is Nanny Bloomberg’s demesne one such?

I have no reason to travel to Belfast, and that is a damn shame. If any of my readers in Northern Ireland want to do a murder mystery party, I’m willing to do it for travel expenses alone, just so I can stay at the Merchant Hotel. I stumbled across its bar menu via a Google alert for “Pegu”. You can read it for yourself here (PDF).
The basic personality of the bar is revealed through the menu, and I am in love. First off, the drinks are sorted into three sections: The evening, the afternoon, and the morning. Sure, some bars will place a few meager selections of pick-me-ups on the menu; A Mimosa here, and Bloody Mary there. But the Merchant Hotel Bar has thirty-seven cocktails it classifies as Corpse Revivers & Picker Uppers (including the Pegu). I have a desire to visit a bar where the valiant patrons are beating back the morning hangover with Absinthe Drips and White Ladies! I am obviously not alone, as the bar proudly proclaims on the hotel website that it was named “World’s Best Hotel Bar” (as well as having the “World’s Best Drink Selection” and “World’s Best Drinks Selection”) at Tales of the Cocktail.
The menu is supplied with some wonderful, evocative quotations about cocktails that make it worth the read. It also includes a truly comprehensive array of towering drink classics to tickle every fancy, and warm a cocktailian’s heart.
Finally, they have a selection of cocktails that may benefit from a truly premium base, which they refer to as offerings from their Connoisseurs’ Club. For instance, Daiquiri’s at the Merchant range from £6.50 with Santiago de Cuba Anejo, to £195.00 with Bacardi Gold 1950s.
But the piece de resistance is the Mai Tai for £750.00….

I always had an inkling that I’d sell the first one and something told me it could be that night. I watched as a regular customer entered the room with another gentleman and two female companions. They were in high spirits, dressed for the occasion and as I approaced their table, I heard the ladies discussing cocktails. They asked me what I would recommend.
This was exactly how I hoped it would happen. I had rehearsed the scene a hundred times in my head.
“This cocktail was invented for discerning people like you — it’s an original Trader Vic’s Mai Tai. The key ingredient is extremely rare Wray and Nephew 17 year old rum from Jamaica. It has been reproduced to the exact original formula and we are theonly bar in the world that actually has a bottle to sell.”
Four sets of eyebrows raised and glances exchanged. I could see they were impressed.
“You’ll be making history by being the first person to buy this cocktail,” I continued.
…

Read the menu yourself to see how the story turns out.

Thanks Matt!
From over at a Jigger of Blog, I see that there is a really cool event coming up in Washington, DC entitled, Happy Birthday, Mr. Daiquiri. The seminar is a production of the Museum of the American Cocktail, and features such mixological luminaries as Jeff Beachbum Berry, and Jon Arroyo (about whom I wrote recently). The event marks the 100th anniversary of the Gospel of Rum’s arrival on American shores, and details its origins, rise, and effects on cocktailia in general.
I imagine strawberry goo and blenders need not apply.
Of course, I only get to visit DC occasionally, so I won’t be able to attend this cool event, and now I’m sad.
So thanks, Matt….

(Image stolen from The Commercial Appeal, where dining reviewer Jennifer Biggs writes about more than just local interest.)

The Liquor Fairy recently brought me two bottles that individually and collectively packed a double-whammy. They were Kahlua Coffee Cream, and Amarula Cream. First, both were delicious; and second, they both gave me something interesting to write about beyond what they taste like. They each deserve their own review, and I will thusly deal with each separately below, but I want to start with what is cool about them collectively.
Liqueurs predate cocktails by a long, long time. Most of us modern cocktailians tend to treat liqueurs as mere ingredients, on the order of lime juice, or cinnamon syrup. At most, we employ liqueurs as a base spirit in our concoctions. But before people were mixing spirits and other things in glass or shaker to make them more palatable, they were mixing spirits and other things in bottles to accomplish the same goal. Liqueurs were historically created to be drunk straight, not as ingredients.

Now, to the modern palate this may seem a bit dubious. Take a swig of Benedictine, for instance, and you may challenge my assertion that it was formulated for drinking straight. Time changes tastes… in everything, not just drink. Also, many, if not most, modern liqueurs are formulated and produced exclusively for mixing in cocktails. Imagine leaning across a bar and asking for a glass of Blue Curaçao….
So, we modern mixers tend to treat liqueurs as we do because:

• We mix. It’s what we do.
• Modern distillers create products to allow us, the consumers, to do what we do. Ain’t capitalism grand?

But Amarula and Kahlua Coffee Cream don’t fit that paradigm. I’m sure that there are all sorts of ways you can mix great cocktails with these two products, but I only want to focus on how they taste by themselves.
Because that is how liqueurs as a class were originally intended to be drunk, and these two products fit that bill nicely.
And that is worth thinking about.
I honestly do not understand the manufacturing magic that allows distillers to bottle a product with so much real cream and have it last any length of time at all on the shelf. Nor do I know how they make such liqueurs so incredibly rich. If you mix spirits and fresh, heavy cream in any combination, you won’t get the same texture. But my ignorance of the production minutiae won’t keep me from talking about the results.
I’ll go with the bottles in the order that I received them.

Kahlua Coffee Cream Liqueur
Kahlua is one of the best known liqueur brands out there today, of course. They are introducing a new special run liqueur they call Kahlua Coffee Cream. You won’t find it on their website, since it is a limited-edition product, but you should expect to find it on shelves all over the US through the end of the year.
Everything Kahlua makes is coffee-based, of course, as is the new Coffee Cream. It is a cream liqueur along the lines of a Bailey’s or Castries. The base spirit is rum, and subtly brings the characteristic taste elements of that spirit to the party as well.
My initial thought before tasting was, Isn’t this a White Russian? It is not. Kahlua actually produces pre-bottled White Russians as well, but even if you roll your own, White Russians are thinner in taste and texture, as well as higher in proof, than the Kahlua Coffee Cream.
The taste of the Coffee Cream is similar to an unflavored ice cream custard base. There are vanilla tones, as well as prominent flavors of caramelized sugar. The coffee is there, but not very in your face. For non-coffee drinkers like me, it is a beautiful balance. Imagine if you will, a sip of liquid Tiramisu, and you will have great idea of what you get in a bottle of the Coffee Cream.
As I said above, this liqueur is simply a great after dinner drink, served by itself on the rocks. If you simply must use it as an ingredient, I’ll send you to the wrap-up of the recent Thursday Drink Night, where the gang did a great job putting Kahlua Coffee Cream through its paces.

Amarula Cream Liqueur
Amarula is a brand I had never heard of until it arrived at my door. It too is a sweet-tasting cream liqueur, but has some unique elements in its creation and in its flavor.
Amarula was first marketed in the 1980’s in Zimbabwe, and I think it is now made in South Africa. It is made from an African fruit called the marula, which grows wild in South Africa’s Limpopo province (with its great grey-green, greasy river). Locals harvest the fruit and sell the takings to Distell, Amarula’s distiller. The other main harvesters of marula fruit are elephants, and this is why Amarula plasters them all over every bottle or piece of marketing material they produce.
The interesting thing about the Amarula is that the marula fruit provides not just the flavor, but the alcohol. They produce a brandy by fermenting both the juice and the pulp, then distilling. This brandy is then aged and combined with cream to produce Amarula. I see some mention that they first produced the brandy itself as a commercial product, but I guess it was not successful on its own, and now they make only the cream liqueur.
Regardless, the resulting liquid is delicious, and just a touch exotic. It is sweet, but not overly, and the marula fruit flavor is unique, at least to my palate. To return to my central theme, the liqueur is so nicely balanced that you need add nothing to it beyond a couple of nice cubes of ice. As with the Kahlua, I like this too much straight to bother much with fiddling with recipes. But if you’d like to expand your wings with a bottle of Amarula, I found an excellent page of both cocktail and dessert Amarula recipes at African-Tradition.com. On second thought, I may try my hand at the truffles….

The Liquor Fairy Was Here!
The following products, Kahlua Coffee Cream Liqueur and Amarula Cream Liqueur, were recently provided to me as promotional consideration to encourage me to discuss them.
For a complete disclosure of my policies regarding promotional items and all other financial interests, please click this link, or follow the Liquor Fairy link in the header of this page.

It is coming…. (Actually, it’s already September 19th somewhere! Check the bottom of this post for the rest of the ITLaPD posts!)

Saturday, September 19th, 2009 is once again International Talk Like a Pirate Day. I’ll be posting something special, pirate drink-wise, and generally annoying my wife and tennis partners by talking like a pirate.
You need to do this too.
To help you get ready, I have a few links for you to follow now.
First up, via Dave Barry, is the pick of the litter of pirate name generators, What’s My Pirate Name? My pirate name for 2009 is Mad Morty Rackham!
Avast, ye lubbers! Fear Mad Morty’s thirsty cutla….

Hey! Chill out.
It’s not the 19th yet.

Oops, sorry.
Anyway, there’s also a new, but pretty cross bare-bones, name generator for your pirate ship, too! Mad Morty Rackham swabs the decks aboard the Buccaneer’s Strumpet.
See you September 19th!

Please just bear with him.
He’ll be babbling about this all week.
Here’s the mian post that leads to all the International Talk Like a Pirate Day Cocktails.
Here’s his discussion of Pirate Rum.
And here’s his list of instructions for talking like a pirate in bars.
This link is to the International Talk Like a Pirate Day Rum and Coke.
This link is to the International Talk Like a Pirate Day Navy Grog.
This link is to the International Talk Like a Pirate Day Bumbo.

Via Jacob Grier, comes this magnificent article in The Weekly Standard by Robert Messenger. It delivers a concise, precise snapshot of the modern craft cocktail industry. In addition, it addresses many of the issues we all face and discuss, in a clear and useful manner. It garnishes with a nice little digression on cocktail history and how it affects modern drinks. Finally, it sets forth a nice bowl of bar snacks in the form of an excellent discussion of the most important cocktail book ever, David Embury’s The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks.
I am stunned by how in a single article, he touches on so many things I’ve learned and experienced as part of writing this blog. He talks of such drinks as the Jack Rose, the Rickey, the Old Fashioned, and the Hemingway Daiquiri. While he applauds the return of the cocktail menu to establishments both great and mean, he points out how far we still have to go:

Many of these concoctions have the name of a classic cocktail, but just you try saying: “I see you make a Strawberry Caipirinha, any chance you could make me a Caipirinha?”

He uses Trader Vic and Don the Beachcomber as examples of what we once had as cocktail leaders that we lost and are only now replacing. He includes well deserved shout-outs to bartenders and impresarios such as Dale DeGroff and Audrey Saunders, and the men who are giving us ingredients to fuel the cocktail renaissance, such as Charles Rolls and Eric Seed.
Messenger’s review of Embury’s tome is especially annoying to me, as it reminds me that I haven’t done my own review as of yet, and now I’m going to have to do a better job when I do. His critical take-away from the book, which should also be yours, is that it contains all the basic principals you need to not just mix drinks, but mix great ones.
I will say that through much of the article, Messenger is a little too grumpy about the state of the cocktail world. In an article celebrating the resurgence of a culinary art, he is unnecessarily hard on those in the commercial mainstream who are taking hesitant first steps. All those Soli Blueberry Appletinis on menus out there are signs that people are paying attention. Rather than belittling them, a little encouraging criticism is more in order.
I’ll end with two final notes, if I may. First, the man clearly knows what he’s talking about when it comes to cocktails (emphasis mine):

Bringing a tray of four Pegu Clubs to your coffee table will liven up your guests, setting everyone to considering the drinks and their color. Like wrapped packages and Christmas crackers, well-presented cocktails add festivity to an occasion.

Second, it wouldn’t be a good cocktail article if the author didn’t make a variety of pronouncements in an off-hand manner that will cause a ruckus. For instance, I recommend that all you shaken devotees out there send Messenger angry emails.
By the way, if you’ve read all the way to here, why? Go read the whole thing!

By the way, should you be interested in learning about the lore of the class of cocktails known as the Rickey, you can read my latest post over at the Mixosoleum, entitled Hey, Rickey!

Now, as Bill Cosby used to say, I told you that story to tell you this one.
I recently did a post on the Dark ‘n Stormy, which referred back to my post in January on the Bacardi Cocktail. The latter post started out a little schitck about the Cocktail Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken.
Well, for some reason, the last week has brought a whole bunch of hits to this site from Google, with search terms like He Who Must Not Be Named Cocktail, as well as other, more obvious search terms like, Volde….

Stop! Just Stop! You can’t say that!

Say what?

Say that!
You know, the search term you were about to write.

Why not?

Because it contains You Know Who’s name! You can’t just go around writing that out in public, or even in private!
You want to get everybody around killed?

Hey, what’s with the hat and stick? What are you up to?

Oh!
Um. Uh.
I’m going to a costume party! Yeah, that’s it.

A costume party? Why was I not invited? How was I not invited?
Anyway, the search term was Voldem….

Noooo!

Shut up. Voldemort Cocktail.

Aieeeee! Run awaaaaay!
{Door slams in the distance}

What’s the matter with him?
Anyway, Dr. Bamboo put Voldem… if I just say, You Know Who Cocktail from now on, will you come back?

{In the distance}
Maybe.

Dr. B coined the term in the comments, and now every Harry Potter fan of age and cocktailian inclination is headed to this blog. Fun huh?
But it isn’t enough. I now need a real Volde— You Know Who Cocktail, and I have successfully created one.
It is dark, and pungent, and dangerous, and while it has a taste that is definitely not for everyone, it ain’t half bad.

This is far sweeter than any cocktail I have ever made before, but even I kinda like it. If you make it, let me know. Just be careful what you call it!

Yeah!
Please.

A last note here, as an alternate presentation.
Take a large, round scoop of chocolate ice cream, make an indentation in the top, and fill with the Voldemort You Know Who Cocktail (minus the gin). Still use the dry ice if you have it.

And thanks for the visits, Harry Potter fans!

We’re all gonna die….

At the beginning of the year, I wrote about a delicious cocktail whose name many of you cannot use when making, at least not legally. The trick is that it has a brand name in its name, and a nearly one hundred year old court case requires that you use Bacardi brand rum when you make it.
I thought it was a cute story that gave a neat hook to write about a delicious, accessible cocktail.
I also thought it was unique.

Not so fast,
Barracuda-Breath!

Exactly. The New York Times lets me know differently. A couple of weeks ago, they published an article by Johnathan Miles, entitled, The Right Stuff (by Law).
The Dark ‘n’ Stormy is an iconic Bermudan cocktail made from dark rum and ginger beer.
Except it isn’t.
This is the only recipe for a Dark ‘n Stormy. The only recipe….

I say this is the only recipe because Gosling’s holds the registered trademark for the name and recipe for the Dark ‘n Stormy. And Gosling’s protects that intellectual property, says the Times:

“We defend that trademark vigorously, which is a very time-consuming and expensive thing,” said E. Malcolm Gosling Jr., whose family has owned Gosling’s since its founding in Bermuda in 1806. “That’s a valuable asset that we need to protect.”

During the course of the interview, Miles apparently got another rum company sued. He described an ad in Imbibe that had previously escaped Gosling’s notice. Thanks are due all-round from the billable hours club.
The Dark ‘n Stormy is undergoing something of a renaissance these days driven by several factors, I surmise.

• The retro cocktail movement in general
• The increase in general use of premium and niche rum
• and the fact that it’s a pretty good drink.

You may well be taken aback by your first ever sip of this drink. Gosling’s is a distinctively pungent rum, and takes a moment or two to get used to. You can serve the drink layered or mixed, and I specify the straw or swizzle so you can easily alter the cocktail from the first state to the second. Until you are used to the flavor profile of this rum, I’d try your first Dark ‘n Stormy mixed.
At the Velvet Tango Room in Cleveland, my friend Paulius makes his Dark ‘n Stormys with the required Gosling’s. He told me, if I remember correctly, that it’s really the only way to make the drink really work. At the VTR, they give you your Dark ‘n Stormy layered beautifully, with a pretty large caliber straw. Paulius suggests that you plunge the straw into the drink and sip, then remove the straw and drop it in again. This way you get the Gosling’s and the ginger beer flavors in mini layers with each sip, increasing the apparent complexity and interest of the drink.
So if you run a bar, and want to try serving this interesting and delicious acquired taste, be sure to make them with the right rum. It’s a unique drink, and to preserve that character, you need to make it with the unique rum it was created to employ. It’s the legal thing to do, the right thing to do as well, because the only paper you want lawyers to hand you is green, with engraved portraits on it.
In my series on the Four Gospels of Cocktail, I called various variations on those classic drinks, Heresies. But mixing your Daiquiris in a blender with strawberries will only get you laughed out of the finer bars. With the Dark ‘n Stormy, the Inquisition is real!

Hello! Malcom sent us.