After a long winter, rhubarb is now in season.  Is there a way to use this first sign of the growing season in a cocktail?

You ask a very worrisome question. I’m sure you’re aware that rhubarb leaves are poisonous, so before we start talking about anything else, we need to start with a disclaimer; trim leaves from your rhubarb stalks as soon as you harvest them, dispose of the leaves immediately, and wash the stalks, your hands, and your tools thoroughly.

Now that that’s taken care of…

Rhubarb stalks are going to act a lot like celery would act in a drink, which is to say that while it could be a fun garnish, it can’t add a lot of flavor just by its presence. You can’t muddle up rhubarb like you would a softer, juicier fruit; it won’t impart any of its flavor that way. Rhubarb needs to be cooked to extract its flavor.

I’d suggest a couple of approaches, both of which are a bit more involved:

• Make a rhubarb simple syrup. Slice your rhubarb into thumb-sized pieces, stack them in a stock pot, cover them with water, and boil covered for at least an hour. When finished, strain all liquid from the fruit, and press the fruit to extract whatever juices you can from the flesh. (Once you’ve done that, you can discard the pulp.) Measure the liquid you’ve poured off the rhubarb, return it to the stock pot, and place it on the stove top. Add an amount of sugar equivalent to the liquid, which you’ve just measured (so if you measured 1.5 cups of water off the rhubarb, add 1.5 cups of sugar.) Stir the sugar into the liquid under low heat, turning off the heat as soon as the sugar has dissolved completely. Once the syrup has cooled, you can add anything from 1/2 oz to 1 oz of the syrup to cocktails.
• Make a rhubarb jam, either by itself or with other fruit. This option will only appeal to you if you’ve already made jam or preserves before, and if you think you could use your rhubarb preserves for something other than cocktail making, so I won’t spend too much time rolling out a recipe here. Whatever recipe you do use, shake a tablespoon or so of the jam into a cocktail.

Here are a couple of sample recipes using both approaches.

Rhubarb Sidecar

• 2 oz. brandy
• Juice of 1/2 lemon
• 1 tbsp ( .5 oz) rhubarb syrup

Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker over ice; shake to combine. Strain into a cocktail glass; garnish with a cherry.

Rhubarb Collins

• 2 oz. gin
• 1 tbsp rhubarb jam
• Juice of 1/2 lime
• Soda water

Combine gin, jam, and lime juice in a cocktail shaker over ice; shake thoroughly to combine. Fill a highball glass with ice. Pour mixed cocktail into highball glass, and top with soda water.

Benedictine falls into the “less exciting” category, for the most part. An herbal liqueur made with a secret blend of 27 herbs and ingredients, Benedictine was falsely claimed to be made by the Benedictine monks, whose recipe was lost to time until it was “rediscovered” by the businessman who actually developed the stuff. Benedictine is a thick, sweet liqueur with complex herbal notes. It’s often paired with brandy to cut the sugary flavors. (There’s actually a pre-mixed version of the drink that’s sold — B&B, for Benedictine and Brandy.)

This week’s recipe is similar to that B&B, but it’s layered like a Pousse L’Amour (just without the raw egg.) It’s a French cafe drink — something that’s served at room temperature, and meant to be a pre-aperitif, to be consumed in the afternoon. Make it in a sherry glass, a narrow white wine glass, or a champagne flute, and make sure you use a spoon to layer the liqueurs.

Brandy Champerelle

• 1 oz . brandy
• 1 oz. curacao
• 1 oz. benedictine
• 3 dashes Angostura bitters

Pour 1 oz. benedictine into a sherry glass or champagne flute. Pour 1 oz. curacao over top of that, using a spoon and pouring slowly to create a second layer. In the same fashion, pour 1 oz. brandy over the curacao. Carefully float 3 dashes of  Angostura bitters to the top and serve.

This particular tasting occurred in an old shoebox apartment, amongst friends who were much more friends-of-a-friend-of-a-friend than anything else. Honestly, why and how I get myself into these situations, I’ll never know – or rather, remember, but I do find them to be good ideas at the time. To be fair to the brandy, the environment in which I was attempting to enjoy it was not ideal. The tenants were heavy smokers, and being that the apartment had but one window, there was a thick haze that sat in the air, permeating one’s clothes and hair, and even skin. Ashes littered the carpet, everywhere. Needless to say, I wouldn’t be removing my shoes.

The introductions seemed to go on for ages and I thought for a moment that I might actually die of boredom. A funny thing, I thought – dying of boredom. If that were possible, I’d imagine sloths might do such a thing. Absolute rubbish, it is. Words can’t begin to describe my elation when the phrase “Would you like a drink?” crept out from behind the pursed lips of the female tenant.

Oh sweet Jesus, I’d love a drink.

She trotted over to the cabinets, which were a classic dark brown – the kind of wood grain you would see on the basement paneling in a house built in the ’50s. These were usually the kinds of places that had light gray linoleum flooring and a pool table in the middle that was used much more for folding laundry than it was for any game of billiards.

At any rate, the bottle she pulled from the cabinet was a 750 of E&J VS Brandy. Having at least a rudimentary idea of what I was getting myself into this time, I decided to have the brandy both neat, and with coffee.

Perhaps it’s because I wanted desperately to feel like the night wasn’t a total bust, but I really enjoyed this drink, especially in the coffee. Even through the instant Folgers crystals, I could taste the hints of dried fruit and smell the aromas of spice and vanilla. The drink was a bit rough on the way down, especially neat, but I’d sooner attribute that to the sensitivity of my throat from the lingering fallout cloud than I would from the drink itself.

Before we begin, I feel it’s necessary to record exactly what Hennessy is and the nature of the spirit. Hennessy is cognac – a variety of brandy produced in the Cognac region of France and crafted to specific legal standards. Brandy (or brandywine) is a spirit distilled from wine, which can be either aged in oak barrels or artificially colored. Much like whiskey, brandy (or cognac) can be served neat, or on the rocks, and are great spirits for mixing cocktails.

I do apologize for that short diatribe, but if you’re anything like me, and tend not to venture into the unknown a whole lot, it helps to have a refresher. At any rate…

We begin our journey in a room full of mustached gentlemen, smoking big cigars and sampling various beverages. Don’t ask me what I was doing in such a place, for I couldn’t tell you honestly. Perhaps it could have been for the sheer surreality of the situation… that will have to suffice. As I made my way over to the refreshments table, I spied the bottle of Hennessy Black and thought for a moment that I should imbibe a glass to simply see what the fuss was about.

Now mind you, Hennessy Black is a cognac that, from what I later learned, is really for mixing and nothing else. At the time I had the spirit neat and was astonished at the rigid fire that burned its way to the depths of my stomach. The flavor was sweet and floral, but with a burning bite of a bitter honey – a combination that I could only describe as “oddly unique”. It was at this point that I remarked on the spirit’s color as it wasn’t black at all, but rather a pale gold. If you’ve ever seen mustached men furrow their mustaches, you know how silly you feel being the target of such furrowing.

While not a drink I can see myself having on the regular, I can certainly see the appeal of brandy (and cognac). For folks with a taste for the aberrant, Hennessy Black may just be right up your alley.

What to drink, then? It’s a continual problem I’ve mentioned more than once — but once again, I think I’ve found a decent solution that balances the needs of winter and spring. A good gateway drink between the season we’re leaving (or, at least, the one we were supposed to be experiencing) and the one we’re approaching. I found this drink in Jerry Thomas’s bartending guide, published in 1887. It’s fairly simple, yet bracingly complex, with the sour punch of the whiskey complementing the grapey sweetness of the brandy. I’m guessing it was named after the New York town, and its accompanying racetrack. (Maybe to approximate the racetrack, or the sport of kings itself, at the same time base and cosmopolitan? Or maybe just because some of his customers there liked to drink it.)

Tonight’s drink mixes brandy, whiskey, and vermouth. You’d be well-served to use a good version of each — you don’t have to pour cognac into this, but make it a decent brandy, at least a couple years old. Your whiskey could be rye or bourbon, but don’t skimp on that, either, or you’ll pay for it the next morning. You could garnish this with a cherry or a lemon peel, and if you wanted to pour it over rocks and serve it well into the spring (or even summer,) you’d be fine.

I’ve read that both cognac and brandy make excellent sipping drinks in the winter.  What is the difference between the two?  Is one a better choice to try first?

Not to get too cute, but cognac is brandy.

Just like Champagne is a specific type of wine,  cognac is a specific, premium type of brandy, made in the Cognac region of France and following a specific set of rules outlined by the government. Both brandy and cognac can be great winter tipples — they have much of the same body and effect as a good Scotch or bourbon, but with an underlying grape-like sweetness.

Now, brandy could technically be any liquor made by fermenting fruit juice, then distilling the resulting cider, but “brandy” means grape brandy. Others will be referred to specifically as “apple brandy” or “peach brandy” , or other names, like applejack, or kirschwasser — German for “cherry water”.

Until around 1950, when vodka became popular, brandy — with gin, whiskey, and  rum — was one of the most popular liquors, both in America and elsewhere. Today, brandy has fallen out of favor as an everyday drink, but it’s still considered a great digestif by the country-club set. (Also, incongruously, cognac has become popular in the hip-hop community.)

Cognac, according to regional regulations, must be aged for at least two years in French oak. Master artisans at each cognac distillery blend much older cognacs with younger batches to create products meeting the same standards as bottles  produced generations before (and, ideally, bottles that will be produced in generations to come.)

Cognac-producing distilleries use  acronyms to describe the various grades of cognacs they sell.  I cribbed a list from this entry on dummies.com :

• A.C. – The youngest cognac in the blend was aged for at least two years.
• V.S. (Very Special) – The youngest cognac in the blend was aged for at least three years.
• V.O. (Very Old) – The youngest cognac in the blend was aged for at least four years.
• X.O. (Extremely Old) – The youngest cognac in the blend was aged for at least eight years.
• V.S.O.P. (Very Superior Old Pale) – The youngest cognac in the blend was aged for at least eight years, with extra care taken to ensure the others  are of superior quality. The average age of cognacs in a V.S.O.P. blend will be between 10 and 15 years old.

You may recognize some of those acronyms from whisky bottles –  though their usage there isn’t  regulated.

Any cognac is guaranteed to be a high-quality product, and will be sold at a premium price. Most other brandies are made using the same techniques as cognac, though, and a decently aged brandy — especially one whose producer uses and abides by the above definitions — can be just as good, and possibly a much better buy. Either way, drink from a snifter you hold constantly in your hand — it’s  best consumed as close to body temperature as possible, and the heat from your hand will help. (You could also fill the glass with hot water, then discard it immediately before pouring your drink.) And remember, brandy and cognac are sipping drinks — nobody will be impressed if you gulp it back all at once.

I can’t help with eggnog’s reputation, but I can give you a few words of comfort regarding egg. Egg (or separated egg whites) were once a very common ingredient in cocktails. They create a smooth, frothy texture in a drink — much like a drink that’s just been shaken and aerated, but stable. And the egg used in drinks isn’t exactly “raw,” so it won’t have the cold, slimy texture of an uncooked egg. When egg is mixed with sugar, the proteins in the yolk uncoil and solidify, quite like the reaction when an egg is cooked. Now, that reaction doesn’t kill salmonella (or any other pathogens that might find their way into the eggs), but you don’t have to worry about any of that if you buy pasteurized eggs.

Here, then, is a simple recipe for eggnog — a misunderstood drink that can be pleasing, warming, and rich, and just perfect on a cold night or at a holiday party. If you’re lactose intolerant, you’ll want to avoid them, and they certainly won’t look good if you spill them on your holiday formalwear… but otherwise, enjoy! (And don’t worry about embarrassing yourself. These are so rich that you’ll have to quit drinking them well before you overindulge.)

Eggnog

• 1.5 oz brandy or rum
• 1 tsp. sugar
• 1 tsp. vanilla
• 1 egg, pasteurized
• 4 oz. milk
• Cinnamon or nutmeg

Most drinks have a traceable “original” recipe (cocktail writer David Wondrich has tracked down many of them on Esquire’s drinks database.) Many have a popularly accepted recipe, and some even have a “sanctioned” recipe from the International Bartender’s Association (which I picture to be something akin to SPECTRE in the James Bond movies.) But the “right” recipe? Drinks change over time, as do tastes, and at the end of the day, the only thing that really matters is my recipe (if I’m mixing your drinks) and yours (because you should really know what you like, and how you like it.)

I mention all that because whenever I bring sangria to a party, and people ask me for the recipe (more to make conversation than because they’re actually interested), I’m at a loss. It’s a little flip, but my answer is something along the lines of “wine and fruit.” Because that’s all you really need. And that’s really how I think of sangria.

My recipe changes a bit every time I make sangria. I usually buy whatever fruit is on sale in the produce section and pick out a fairly inexpensive wine as well. (There’d be no sense in buying something complex or expensive, since we’re going to fuss with the flavor anyway. And besides, I’m a writer, so I can’t afford it.) A little bit of brandy adds some punch, and a bit of fruit juice helps to balance the flavors, but for the most part we’re just infusing wine with fruit. You’ll be surprised how well it works.

Please note that this recipe makes over a gallon of sangria; plan your guest list accordingly.

Sangria

• 4-5 bottles inexpensive red wine (if you’d prefer, you can use white instead.)
• 1/2 pint (8 oz.) brandy
• One bottle sparkling wine
• 2-3 pounds mixed fruit (for the sake of an example, let’s say a pound of strawberries, a half a honeydew, and an orange.)
• 2 cups fruit juice (anything would work, but again, if you need an example, let’s say pineapple)

The first, more refined category includes any drink with one primary spirit and secondary ingredients to complement it. Examples range from the Manhattan (vermouth and bitters to complement your bourbon) to the margarita (curacao and lime juice to punch up tequila) to the Godfather (a splash of amaretto to sweeten up a Scotch on the rocks) and countless others. Simple, classic cocktails, designed by bartenders who had limited ingredients and hoped to give their customers the best tastes possible (or at least mask the flavor of whatever rotgut booze was available in more austere times.)

The second category of drinks, like Lord Byron, are mad, bad, and dangerous to know: bizarre concoctions featuring several main spirits mixed together with no regard for the consequences. Today, a lot of drinks ordered in college bars fall under that category. A Long Island iced tea (vodka, gin, rum, tequila, and triple sec)? Three Wise Men (Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker and Jim Beam)? Sounds like a George Thorogood b-side.) A Red Death (Vodka, triple sec, amaretto, sloe gin and Southern Comfort)? Put that many different liquors in your head, and you deserve whatever hangover you get.

Many of those drinks seem to exist for no earthly reason, save for the sheer lunacy of it. Why would anyone attempt to mix three different whiskies together? Why must we live in a world in which bartenders can be expected to shake these things up? My God, why have you forsaken us?

But sometimes, those insane concoctions can yield something a bit refined. This week’s drink, Between the Sheets, is a good example. A mixture of brandy, rum, curacao, and lemon juice, Between the Sheets almost uses the brandy and rum as one liquor, with the unrefined grapey sweetness of the brandy dovetailing with the sugary vanilla flavors of the rum. It features brandy, which was once one of our most popular liquors, but has of late become an underused, forgotten spirit. If you’d like, you can look at it as a hybrid of a sidecar and a classic daiquiri. At the very least, it comes in a cocktail glass, so it’s got to be at least a couple of steps more refined than frat-boy swill like the Long Island.

Between the Sheets

• 1 oz. brandy
• 1 oz. white rum
• 1 oz. triple sec
• 1/2 oz. lemon juice

Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker over ice. Shake to chill and combine, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon peel. If you feel fancy, rub the lemon peel around the rim of the glass before straining the drink.

The winning poster was sjks0427 (catchy handle!), and this is what he/she wrote:

There is a really good drink called a Keoki Coffee which has Kahlua, dark rum, brandy and creme de cacao (quarter shot of each), then add coffee and top with whipped cream. Very yummy. A lot of bars offer a version of this that include only 3 of the 4 liquors, but the original version is as stated above.

The recipe sounds like a winning concoction, and one I will be trying it this coming weekend!

As the night would be cold, we purchased apple cider to turn into a warm evening drink.  I never had made mulled cider previously, but it seemed like a simple recipe to master.  I did deviate from typical recipes that call for cinnamon sticks and used ground cinnamon instead.  I also replaced whole cloves with ground cloves.  In spite of these substitutions, I found this cider to be quite delicious.  Plus, having simmered all afternoon in our crockpot, the entire house smelled wonderful.

This recipe lends itself to crowds quite nicely.  Create a large batch in a crockpot, or if more is needed, it can be made in a stockpot.  The “kick” is added to individual glasses, so this beverage can be served without alcohol in order to quench everyone’s thirst.  If you feel like extending the extra effort, I would recommend rimming your mugs for an extra special look and taste.

With many Halloween, Thanksgiving, and assorted fall gatherings drawing near, this is a great recipe to keep nearby.

Spiked Mulled Cider

1/2 gallon cider

1 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp. nutmeg

1/2 tsp. ground cloves

2 Tb. sugar

1 tsp. cinnamon

caramel sauce

brandy

Combine cider, 2 tsp. cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves in crockpot.  Turn heat to low, cover, and simmer for at least 3 hours.

Before serving, combine sugar and 1 tsp. cinnamon in a shallow dish that is wider than the mugs (Irish coffee mugs work very well) in which you will be serving the cider.  Apply a small amount of caramel sauce to the rim of each mug.  Invert mug, and twist in cinnamon-sugar mix to coat rim.

Pour 1 ounce of brandy into each mug, and add cider to fill. Stir to combine.

Enjoy!

This New Year’s Eve we had some friends over, and I decided to make up a new drink with brandy that was light and fun.  So, I cooked up a Brandy Fizz.

TK’s New Year Brandy Fizz

• 3 parts brandy (I used a wonderful XO brandy)
• 1 part sour mix
• 1 part lemon-lime soda
• ice

Put ice, brandy, and sour mix in a shaker.  Shake with vigor for at least 30 shakes.  Pour the mixture over ice in a rocks glass.  Top with lemon-lime soda.  Can be garnished with cherries or an orange wheel.