-Clique Vodka

Now, to be fair, this isn’t a bad vodka. I don’t hate it because of the taste (I’ll have a bit more on that in a bit). I hate it because it’s trying to emulate the success of Patron by marketing itself to the hip hop crowd, when Patron didn’t do anything for its success but be an expensive and smooth tequila. That’s something that current mainstream hip hop culture has going against it, in my opinion – the more money you can spend on crap you don’t need, the more you’re seen as successful. In my opinion, that just makes you an idiot. But what do I know? I don’t chug Heineken and Jagerbombs all night, so I guess my opinion can’t be all that clever.

So anyway… this is a vodka, alright. When you pop the top and take a whiff, you’ll find that out pretty quickly. If I had to compare the aroma to something, it would be that of a lower-midshelf vodka. This is essentially Smirnoff in a bottle that looks like Snooki rubbed her face on it, which makes sense as Smirnoff is still slightly Russian and Clique is crafted “by fine vodka Artisans in the country of Latvia“. On a side note, if you click that link and then read about Premier Innovations’ other spirit offering, Don Pantaleon Tequila, you’ll see this little gem:

“Don Pantaleon is competitive in price with any house tequila and boasts incredible value with almost 100% pure agave and no additives or artificial flavorings”

If your tequila is not 100% de agave, it has additives, you twits. Moving on…

The taste of Clique vodka is what you’d expect for a bottle that costs 16 bucks. It’s got a good bit of smoothness to it, the vodka fire is there, along with a peppery finish. This is a good vodka for mixing, but not for sipping.

Once again, I can’t stress this enough. Clique is a decent vodka which won’t break the bank. However, Clique’s marketing department should be waterboarded with it. Pick this one up if you plan on attending a party with a lot of people who have fake tans.

(Editor’s note: Our reviewer received a complimentary bottle of Clique Vodka, but the opinion reflected in this article is solely his.)

But the weather just isn’t cooperating! Over the past week, I’ve had three days that look like fall, and one that could almost pass for early spring! And if you’re like me, the seasonal uncertainty is very destabilizing. Not just in your cocktail choices, I’m sure, but still…

What to do? I’ll admit, I didn’t know either. And then I flipped through my notes, and came upon this old standard… made notable if only for its name (which, apocryphally, is a shortening of “suffering bar steward.”) I’ve tried to do my own research to find the origin of this drink. No luck. Not in my late-1800s-era bartending handbook by Henry Craddock, or my 1940s-era Burke handbook, or the 1950s bartending book from Dave Embury, or the Playboy bartending book, or the 1981 Mr. Boston bar book.

So what is this drink, and where did I even hear of it? To answer the latter question first, I think it was a line of dialogue from a terrible episode of forgettable late-90s television. The former, I would never have found without the Internet. But eventually, I found several sources pointing to a clip from a 1959 New York Times interview with Joe Scialom. Regrettably, their archive isn’t completely electronic and free, so I can’t confirm it (at least, not without surrendering a good portion of my pay for this post):

“When liquor was short during the war, he had to concoct “something to quench the boys’ thirst.” He combined equal parts gin and brandy with a dash of Angostura bitters, a teaspoon of Rose’s lime juice, and English ginger ale. He garnished the drink with a sprig of fresh mint, a slice of orange and a cucumber peel. The bartender advised Americans to substitute ginger beer for the ginger ale because the British version of the soft drink is more heavily seasoned with ginger than ours.”

So… the Suffering Bastard:

• 1 oz. brandy
• 1 oz. gin
• 1 dash Angostura bitters
• 1/4 oz. Rose’s lime juice (if a more tart drink is desired, substitute juice of 1/4 lime)
• 4 oz. ginger beer (ginger ale will do in a pinch, but your Suffering Bastard will have too much sweet, and not enough spice.)

Combine gin, brandy, bitters, and lime juice in a glass. Stir to combine, then fill with ginger beer. Garnish? Mint, orange, and cucumber peel are suggested, but a lime would work just as well. 

We are hosting a party for the Super Bowl.  Is there a football-themed drink that we could serve to our guests?

You mean, other than beer? At a Super Bowl party?
While I’d assume most of your guests will have the same reaction (or stick to soft drinks), serving other drinks wouldn’t be entirely wrong. There are not any football-themed drinks, no… but at an event like a Super Bowl party, your best bet is probably to mix up a big bowl of punch, set it next to a big tub of chilled beers, and let the guests decide which they’ll drink. (This has the added advantage of allowing you to fulfill all of your bartending duties as host before the guests arrive — so that during the party, you can just watch the game, enjoy your company, and let them take care of themselves.)

The recipe below draws from a couple of different recipes from Jerry Thomas’s bartending handbook, written in 1887, when punch was, apparently, a big deal. (Over half the book is dedicated to the stuff.) Esquire magazine’s drinks correspondent, David Wondrich, has written an entire book on the subject. I don’t know if his efforts will lead to a “punch” revival, but they could at least make your future party-hosting duties a bit easier.

In the meantime, try this recipe. While you can mix everything up right before your doorbell starts to ring, make sure to allow yourself at least a couple of hours before the party for the first couple of steps. The longer you can let the lemon peels sit in the sugar, and then steep in the hot water, the more flavor you’ll extract, and the better your punch will taste. Make sure you warn your guests that this is a quite potent punch, and as always, remind everyone to drive safely (and sober). To facilitate that, do make sure you have plenty of soda on hand, and maybe even some coffee. Remember, not everyone is as much of a lush as we are.

Super Bowl Punch

• 1 cup sugar
• Six lemons
• 4 cups hot water
• 2 bottles brandy
• 1 pint spiced rum
• 1/2 pint triple sec or orange liqueur
• 1 bottle champagne
• 1 quart green tea
• 1 quart cranberry juice

Peel the lemons, slicing rinds thin. Combine lemon peels and sugar in a bowl; stir thoroughly, and let sit at least 1/2 hour. The sugar will extract oils and flavors from the lemon peels. After at least 1/2 hour, pour the hot water over the lemons and sugar, and stir until all sugar is dissolved. Let that mixture steep for at least 1/2 hour, then strain and chill the liquid. (You can discard the lemon peels.)

Squeeze the already-peeled lemons, and add the juice to the chilled sugar water. In a large punch bowl, combine that mixture with all other ingredients, and stir thoroughly. Serve with ice on side; to keep punch chilled, consider freezing one big block of ice (maybe in a smaller bowl?) and letting it float in the punch bowl.

There are a few hot drinks out there (the hot toddy, the Tom and Jerry, the blue blazer.) There are any number of punches that can be served warm (Esquire cocktail writer David Wondrich has done plenty of research on punches, and wrote this book.) But the list ends soon after that… and except for the toddy, most of those drinks have a high degree of difficulty.

Not so with mulled wine. I have a recipe below, and it’s not a bad one. But it’s more of a starting point than anything else. Mulled wine is nothing but a warm, mildly boozy winter concoction meant to be gulped — well-flavored, yes, but weak enough that it can be gulped with impunity. Mulled wine can warm you up, but it will be very hard to drink enough to mess you up… unless you’re very dedicated. Again, here’s a recipe. You can alter it as you like.

Mulled wine

• 1 bottle wine (preferably something dry and complex — a cab? a malbec?)
• 2 cups apple cider (any fruit juice would work here, but I wouldn’t use citrus, and grape would be redundant.)
• 2 cinnamon sticks
• 4 cloves, ground (and/or 1 tsp. nutmeg, and/or 1 tsp. allspice, and/or even 1/2 tsp. ginger, if you’re feeling frisky.)
• 1 orange, sliced. (For an extra-sweet flavor, roast the orange slices in a casserole dish for 15 minutes, then dump the slices and the resulting juice into the mix.)

Combine all ingredients in a medium- or large-size saucepan, and warm under low heat until hot, but not scalding. Serve in a large mug. Grate extra nutmeg on top to garnish, if desired.

In addition to keeping it simple, I’m never caught with my pants down when the bartender comes up and asks what I’ll have. One cannot always be prepared, and one needs to be quick on their feet when it comes to these sorts of decisions, lest one be viewed as a dolt or worse by their company. This will be on the final, so pay attention.

As I was saying, I’m not much into big mixed drinks as I find them distasteful. There has been a perpetual exception for the past few weeks, however, and that is the Long Island Iced Tea. Made with vodka, gin, tequila, rum, triple sec, sour mix, and Coke, this is both one of the most complex drinks one can make as well as one of the simplest. It’s quite simple to remember all the ingredients, and it’s not like it matters, anyway. This is simply a delightful-tasting way to get silly.

When going out to various establishments, you may be tempted to try their various takes on the Long Island. This can be a fun experiment in certain places – particularly those which make it a habit out of crafting unusual and creative beverages. I would caution against this, however, in chain restaurants and bars, which tend to throw expensive ingredients into the mix in an effort to jack up the price, while disregarding the matter of taste, which is what the drink is supposed to bring to the table anyway.

So when a drink is advertised with Grey Goose vodka, know that you can use Ketel One and be fine. When Patron is parroted in the description, opt for 1800 instead. Long story short, you can get a great tasting drink cheaper, and it will go down all the same. And if you’re getting an extremely mixed drink like a Long Island, the kind of booze you add to it won’t matter much anyway.

Today’s recipe is a simple example of how you can use preserves to create your own fruit-based cocktails in the winter. I’m using raspberry preserves, but you can use blueberry, lemon, apple… whatever you’d like. Since it’s a winter cocktail, we’re using cognac as the base liquor (it warms you so), but any whiskey (save Scotch) could work in its stead. I’m using St. Germain, an elderflower liqueur that’s grown popular in the last few years, to offset the tart raspberry notes with something a bit more complex and delicate, but you could substitute in whatever floats your boat. Want to mix strawberry jam with Midori (melon liqueur)? Apple jelly and limoncello? Get creative — and if you come up with a winning combination, let us know in the comments.

Raspberry-Elderflower Warmer

• 2 oz. cognac
• 1 oz. St. Germain liqueur
• 1 tbsp raspberry jam or preserves

Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker over ice, starting with the jam. Shake thoroughly to combine, and strain into a cocktail glass.

On a cocktail menu, I saw that a Zombie had 151 proof rum in it, which explains the name.  Obviously this rum will succeed in making someone intoxicated quite quickly, but is there any value to having that liquor in my cabinet?

It’s true. The main value in overproof rums is the high-octane alcohol content — almost twice that of a normal rum. Many folks would see an intrinsic value in stashing a bottle of that ilk somewhere in the back of their liquor cabinet. (Those are the sort of folks who anticipate, with glee, an impromptu visit from one of their old fraternity brothers.) I’d argue that it’s fun — and educational — to be able to whip up, serve, and contemplate a correct Zombie at some point in your life, and considering the alcohol content you’ve astutely observed, that educational session might best be conducted in the safety of your own home.

(This seems like a good place to mention that 151-proof rum is available in both light and dark forms. The former is basically a gamier version of vodka — the latter is like molasses that burns.)

But you’re asking something a bit different. Is there any real reason to keep 151-proof rum in your home? (Perhaps a better translation of your question would be, “is there any sane reason?”) I can think of a couple. But none of them are completely sane, and all of them revolve around the facts behind the “proof” scale.

Supposedly, back in colonial times, alcohol’s strength was determined by mixing a small amount of gunpowder with a small amount of the liquor in question, then attempting to spark the mixture. If the gunpowder still exploded, the liquor was at least 50 percent alcohol by volume — or at least, 100 proof. As the scale has evolved, the “proof” number has become twice the liquor’s alcohol-by-volume percentage. (Want to go further with the gunpowder? A writer for the Atlantic discovered you can use it to flavor your drinks. Really.)

So, what is 151-proof rum good for (at 75.5 percent alcohol by volume), other than accelerated drunkenness? Fire!

It’s essential for making a decent Bananas Foster (which is really a dessert, not a drink, I know, but I don’t think you’ll mind me including it.) Mix up butter, brown sugar, and spices, and saute banana slices in the mixture. Then, add a half-cup of 151-proof rum to the mixture. Stir it, heat it for 15 seconds, turn off the burner, strike a match, and light the bananas on fire. Once the flames die down, serve it over ice cream. It’s delicious, and great for effect.

151-proof rum would also be great for making some sort of a mixture of the Blue Blazer and a hot buttered rum, though if you’re skeptical about even storing a bottle of overproof liquor, I’m sure you’d be doubly skeptical about lighting a drink on fire and pouring it between two mugs. 151 is essential for making an honest-to-god Scorpion Bowl (which, if you don’t know, is basically a Chinese-restaurant form of a Zombie, served in a giant soup bowl, with two-foot long straws .) But again, probably not your cup of tea. So at the end of the day, I’d say if you’re hesitant at all about the 151, you can get by without it. Your drinking experience will safer for it, if not less exciting.

So why are we talking about kamikaze shots? Well, the jingoistic name aside, they’re slightly more refined than your average shot recipe. They feature real liquors and liqueurs (sure, you could use imitation triple sec, but at least Cointreau, a real orange liqueur, exists… in shots that use sour apple or peach schnapps, there IS no “better” bottle to substitute. ) Mainly, I mention kamikazes because if you ARE planning a party, and you DO want to serve shots, but you DON’T want to serve straight liquor, these are about as good as you can do.

Kamikaze shots

• 1 oz. vodka
• 1/2 oz Cointreau or orange liqueur
• 1/2 oz Rose’s sweetened lime juice

Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker over ice. Shake to combine and chill, and strain into a shot glass.

Note that you can make flavored kamikaze shots by either using flavored vodka, or by using a different flavored liqueur instead of Cointreau (Midori would make a melon kamikaze, Chambord would make a raspberry kamikaze, etc.) Just remember, more than one or two of these will have exactly the effect you think they will. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I take no responsibility for what happens, and remember — each of these counts as a full drink. So drink responsibly, never drive drunk, and have a great New Year. We’ll see you in 2012.

Last year, my wife and I attended a Christmas party where the hosts made a fabulous candy cane martini as the featured beverage.  We are hosting a party this year for the same group of people, and I would like to make a cocktail that has the look and feel of the holidays.  If it helps for brainstorming, we are serving hot and cold appetizers.

Many times, it’s just the details that make a special-occasion cocktail memorable. Mix up an ounce of vodka with a half-ounce of creme de menthe, and it’s basically mouthwash. Garnish it with a tiny candy cane, though, and it’s magic. I catered a party once at which we served holiday martinis made with vanilla vodka, cinnamon schnapps, and ginger brandy. We garnished them with “atomic fireball” cinnamon candies — they looked just like olives. Simple enough drink, but they made the party memorable. Garnish a Manhattan with a fig, and your party will be memorable, too.

I’m always a fan of liquor infusions, and I think a homemade infused liquor could be a great centerpiece to a holiday party cocktail menu. Whether you want to use vodka, whiskey, or something a bit more fun (brandy, maybe?), adding your own flavors to customize the spirits you serve can be an economical way to serve a one-of-a-kind drink to your guests.

How do you do it? This can be as simple as sliding a cinnamon stick into a bottle of whiskey, or dropping a couple handfuls of dried cranberries into a bottle of vodka. As long as you have at least a day or two before your party, your liquors will have plenty of time to steep. At the party, you can either present the liquors as part of your bar, and allow guests to select their own mixers, or you can craft a cocktail around them. Cranberry vodka and soda? Cinnamon bourbon and ginger? Why not? I worked a holiday party years ago at which the hostess made a cinnamon-cardamom infused vodka, and it was excellent. This is also a great way to “customize” your party, since everyone’s got their own idea of what “holiday” flavors are. (Mine’s eggnog and tequila, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Hot drinks might be a nice touch, as well… we’ve written about hot toddies before, and I can also recommend hot buttered rum, Irish coffee, or, if you’re feeling ambitious, an old cocktail called a Tom and Jerry. (The link is for an article by Esquire’s cocktail columnist David Wondrich, who’s a great source on anything booze-related.) Even a simple snifter of brandy can be special if the glass is warmed before serving.

Overall? I’d advise devising a drink you like, and sharing it with (or inflicting it upon) your guests. That’s what hosting a party is all about, anyway. Do you really fancy prairie fire shots (tequila and Tabasco?) Tell everyone it’s a Yuletide tradition at your house. Chances are, people will remember it next year.

You probably already have a fairly strong opinion on the Bloody Mary — either you love it, or you can’t stand it. Some people find the salty, spicy bite from the drink wakes up a bleary palate after a too-short night of boozy sleep. (Personally, I’m not sure it works any better than a strong cup of coffee.) Some people feel like the tomato juice, along with the celery garnish, make the Bloody Mary almost healthy, and thus a good way to “equal out” all the pain imbibed against the body the previous night. Of course, the alcohol helps. Hair of the dog and whatnot. (Though you could get that just as easily from a mimosa, or an Irish coffee, or even a beer.)

Now, I can’t address whether or not a Bloody Mary is your cup of tea, or whether it’s the best way to treat your hangover (or whether you should even be contemplating the “best” way to treat a hangover — really, how often do you get that banged up?) But hangover or no, if you’re planning on serving a holiday brunch (or just a simple breakfast for houseguests who would be amenable to drinks before noon), you’ve got a perfect occasion to serve up a bunch of these. They’re tasty, appropriately festive, and whether or not they actually help salve your alcohol-inflicted wounds, the ritual is somewhat comforting.

This recipe is fairly basic, and can be altered however you’d like. I would caution against throwing the entire kitchen sink into your Bloody Mary, though. The first bar I worked at made Bloody Marys with a dash each of A1 steak sauce, barbecue sauce, Worcestershire sauce, cayenne, Tabasco, lemon juce, orange juice, Rose’s lime juice, horseradish, salt, and pepper. The process looked great, and customers liked all that attention their drinks received, but at the end of the day, what’s the point of all those redundant flavors?

Bloody Mary

• 1.5 oz. vodka
• 4 oz. tomato juice
• 1/2 tsp. celery salt
• 1 tsp. horseradish
• 1/2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce (3-4 dashes)
• Juice from 1/4 lemon
• 1/2 tsp. Tabasco sauce (you can substitute a similar vinegar-based hot sauce, but something like Sriracha or a darker chili-based sauce wouldn’t have the right acidic kick.)
• 1/2 oz. orange juice

I have several friends that enjoying making cocktails at home when entertaining.  They have the basic tools: martini shaker, shot glass, and martini picks.  What would be other tools that could be given as a holiday gift? 

This is a tough order to fill, since a lot of bartenders’ tools are small, and economical enough that they wouldn’t make great gifts. I’ll assume that in addition to the tools you mentioned, your friends already have corkscrews and bottle openers. If you’re sure your friends don’t have the following tools, you could put together a nice gift basket with a strainer, muddler, cocktail spoon, jigger, black and tan spoon, and (for the daring) absinthe spoon. Throw in a small cutting board and a knife, and your friends will have a good tool kit for their bar. (The links are all for Amazon.com, but you should find your local restaurant supply store and buy them there. They’ll be cheaper, more durable, and — most importantly — authentic.)

If you want something on the next level that would be simple, yet classic, go with a soda siphon (pictured), which makes sparkling water from regular water. These used to be a standard tool for bartenders. (Bottled sparkling water has been available for a long time, but the siphons were much more efficient until modern technology made soda compressors ubiquitous.) Today, siphons can be a conversation starter at a cocktail party. They’re also somewhat practical — if your home bartender wants to be prepared for a last-minute cocktail party, a siphon and a box of CO2 charges takes much less space than the equivalent amount of bottled seltzer.

Along those lines, you could go with a hot water kettle. Hot water is invaluable for a lot of winter drinks, and while a tea kettle does just fine, these things are undeniably useful (and can heat water right on the bar, without a stovetop or hot plate.)

I’ve never found a need for vacuum wine stoppers or champagne stoppers, but if your friends are the type to open many bottles at once without finishing one, maybe those would help?

Honestly, though, I’m of the opinion that holiday gifts should be creative and consumable. So I’d suggest you avoid tools altogether, and instead, get something funky. Go to the supermarket, and buy every kind of stuffed olive you can find (Pimiento, jalapeño, artichoke, blue cheese, almonds, whatever.) You’d be surprised how much more fun martinis can be with a choice of garnish. Or, go to the liquor store and pick up four or five different kinds of vermouth. (Small bottles should run around $7 each.) Bartenders rarely spend any time thinking about the vermouth they use, but different brands use vastly different recipes. The same goes for bitters — a well-stocked liquor store should carry a few different varieties, and a variety basket would be great for a cocktail connoisseur.

And starting next year, make this an all-year project. The next time you’re traveling — whether the next state over or a different continent — see if you can bring back some local liquors or ingredients to gift to your bartender friends. They’ll think of something to make with it, and chances are, they’ll let you sample the results.

I decided that because I was at a sushi place that it would be apropos to order something with Japanese flair. The night wasn’t as cold as the nights prior, so I opted for something cool and refreshing. A saketini would do just the trick.

A saketini is really any kind of drink you can come up with that involves sake and a cocktail glass. Sake, of course, being that benevolent rice spirit from Japan which is typically served hot, although being served cold is not unheard of – especially when used in a martini. A traditional saketini recipe calls for 2 and a half ounces of gin, with a quarter of an ounce of sake, along with an olive for garnish. I think this is stupid.

What’s the purpose of making a saketini if all you’re going to be tasting is gin? Thankfully, Hokka Hokka got it right. They blended roughly one and a half ounces each of vodka and sake and garnished it with a cucumber. I must say, this was one fantastic drink. I wonder, though, if you’re going to garnish it with a cucumber, wouldn’t it be more appropriate to be crafting the drink with a little Hendrick’s gin? No matter. It was fantastic as it was.

Don’t be afraid to get your feet wet on this one, by the way. There are many brands of sake to choose from, and many of them are very affordable. Two of the most popular in the United States are Gekkeikan and Hakutsuru respectively. Have a look around at your local mart and ask for advice. Typically you’ll find an employee who can impart on you his sake wisdom. Just don’t go calling him sensei – that would be weird.

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

We are hosting Thanksgiving dinner at our house.  We will have wine with dinner but want to offer a cocktail during appetizers.  Besides mulled cider, is there a cocktail that evokes the feel of Thanksgiving?

If you ask me, Thanksgiving is, more than anything else, our one chance a year to throw an extravagant, multi-course meal for ourselves and our families. (Granted, we Americans load almost all of the courses onto the table at once, but that’s neither here nor there.) The best way to begin a meal like that is with an apéritif… generally, something with a low-to-medium alcohol content that stimulates the appetite and prepares the palate for whatever comes next.

As for what to serve, I’ll throw a bunch of options at you. You can feel free to pick one or two, according to the tastes of the guest list, or offer them all if you’ve already got an extensive bar (or if you’re shooting for extravagance).

•  When most people talk about the “feel” of Thanksgiving, they’re talking about harvest spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. Any good pumpkin beer incorporates the flavor of all those. (Some brewers, like Samuel Adams, even add real pumpkin to the beer.) Since you asked for a cocktail, and not a beer recommendation, I’m going to suggest you make black-and-tans, layering Guinness or another stout over the pumpkin beer. (Here’s a video that explains how to do it.) You can either call these black pumpkins or black-o-lanterns — it’s your call.
• For a drink with nice, rich harvest fruit flavors, pour a shot of Chambord (a French black raspberry liqueur) into a champagne flute, and top it with sparkling wine for a Kir Royale.  If you like your drinks closer to the bitter side of the spectrum, you can use Campari instead of Chambord for a Campari cocktail.
• As long as you’re serving apple cider, why not add some apple brandy to the mix? I wrote about an apple pie sidecar made with apple brandy a few months ago. That would be a bit strong for a before-dinner drink, but try a shot of apple brandy mixed into a tall glass of cranberry juice — maybe with a splash of sparkling wine or sparkling water, to give it some life.
• To warm yourself up with a great, spicy drink, buy some ginger beer. You can either make a Moscow Mule by mixing a shot of vodka with a glass of ginger beer, or a Dark and Stormy by floating a shot of dark rum over a glass of it.

I’d planned to write about the hot toddy sometime this winter, but with the unusually early winter storm the Northeast just suffered, now seems like as good a time as any. (And luckily, we wrote about Halloween drinks earlier this month… though if Zombies aren’t your speed, I’d suggest mixing a large batch of any sort of drink you’d like in a punch bowl, along with a good-sized lump of dry ice. Instant witches’ brew. Your Halloween party will be just fine.)

Even if whiskey isn’t your thing, I suggest you learn to make these. Whether you need a nightcap to make after a date (a hot toddy works wonders in that scenario) or a before-dinner drink for party guests during a snowstorm, serving these is magic — sort of an adult version of the hot chocolate your parents would serve you during a snowstorm. If the hot chocolate made you drunk.

• 1.5 oz whiskey (Any kind will work, but I usually prefer something sweet – either a bourbon or an Irish whiskey like Jameson. Scotch works, too, but then you’ll get a smoky toddy.)
• 4 oz. hot (nearly boiling) water
• 1 tsp. honey (sugar would be a good substitute)
• 1 slice lemon
• 6-8 cloves (optional)

Heat water in a kettle, or pour 4 oz. water into a microwave-safe mug and heat for 60-90 seconds on high, until almost boiling. Add honey (or sugar) to water, and stir until dissolved. Add whiskey, and stir. If desired, stud lemon slice with 6-8 full cloves.  Squeeze lemon into drink, drop lemon slice into drink, and serve.

Now, we’ve talked about rum cocktails before, and as we discussed then, the Zombie can be hard to decipher from just about any other strongly mixed rum grog. As a singular recipe, though, it’s hard to beat. The drink is almost all liquor, but deceptively fruity – obviously, a dangerous combination that should not be taken lightly. And that’s the main quality a Zombie has — its smooth, lethal strength. The combination of rums doesn’t impart any particularly interesting flavors, and while papaya juice is a somewhat strange ingredient, it doesn’t do much for us here. (You can even use lemon juice instead.)

So we have an unremarkable, yet very strong cocktail here, named after sufferers of a mindless, subhuman state. Remember, drink names are usually intuitive. With that warning, though, it can be a fun party drink for Halloween. If you want to be especially cruel to your guests, you can whip up a whole punch bowl of these, with a couple of pieces of dry ice floated in for effect. But before you do that, make yourself a single and try it out.

Zombie

• .75 oz. light rum
• .75 oz. gold rum
• .75 oz. dark rum
• .75 oz. apricot brandy (or Amaretto)
• .5 oz. 151-proof rum
• 1 oz. pineapple juice
• 1 oz. papaya juice (or lemon juice)
• 1 oz. grenadine

- Ian Fleming, Casino Royale

James Bond (whose tastes ranged much more widely than the vodka martinis most associate with him) was right – an expensive mixer is the best way to perk up a cheap drink. The inverse is also true, though. Consider this a warning. Cheap mixers can ruin the best intentions and the finest liquors. Your $15 cosmo, even if it’s mixed with premium liquors like Ketel One and Cointreau, will only taste as good as the splash of cranberry juice that lends it its color.

This can be a serious problem, since many bars these days pour reconstituted cranberry juice from a soda gun – and even the bars that splurge on the bottled stuff often buy “cranberry juice cocktail”, a sweetened version of cranberry juice spiked with water, sugar, and citric acid. You might run into similar problems with the bar’s orange and grapefruit juice (though the pineapple juice bars use, sold in cans, is usually unadulterated.)

I’m not suggesting you fret too much about any of this. The last thing we want to do is make our readers into cocktail snobs. (Bond, while both a bad-a** and a bon vivant, would certainly have been an annoying customer.) Knowing all this, I suggest you either order what you’d like and enjoy the best version of it your favorite bar has to offer, or stick to bottled beer.

Either way, the next time you’re drinking at home, make yourself this – and remember to work with good, 100 percent pure, unsweetened juice. The result, while effortlessly simple to make, is a refreshing cocktail that manages to be fruity with almost no sweetness.  It’s a great seasonal drink, too, combining the flavors of summer and fall to make something that’s just as bracing as it is cooling. You can even add a splash of sparkling water (Perrier or otherwise) to give it a bit of fizz.

Sea Breeze

• 1.5 oz vodka
• 2 oz. cranberry juice (100% juice, unsweetened)
• 2 oz. grapefruit juice (100% juice, unsweetened)
• Splash soda water (optional)

For extra credit: This drink has a sweeter cousin called a bay breeze, which is made by substituting pineapple juice for the grapefruit. The sweetness in the pineapple is balanced nicely by the bitter cranberry. These days, a Bay Breeze made with Malibu (coconut rum) is the cocktail of choice for just about every bachelorette party I serve. Please don’t read that as a recommendation.

This week’s cocktail has a foot in both worlds. We’re using applejack, which is a great warming liquor during the winter (and was also probably one of the first liquors made in America.) The spices are a classic harvest combination and would be at home on your Thanksgiving table later this fall. At the same time, the rum and lime offer a few last traces of summer before our thoughts turn to whiskeys, toddies, cordials, and other things you’d want to sip next to a fireplace. So this cocktail wouldn’t be out of place at a summer barbecue next to a gin and tonic, or at a fall dinner party next to an Oktoberfest.

This is a drink I’ve worked up to feature applejack, which aside from having a nice history, is an inexpensive, interesting bottle to keep around the house or bring to a party. (It’s also a somewhat bracing shot, if you and your party guests go in for that sort of thing. Just picture George Washington taking a belt or two to steel himself before crossing the Delaware.) We’re calling this drink a sidecar, and not a martini, because applejack is technically a brandy.

Apple Pie Sidecar

• 2 oz. applejack (Laird’s and Calvados are the main brands you’ll find; Calvados is imported from France, so the Laird’s will probably be a better deal.)
• 1 oz. spiced rum
• Juice from 1/2 lime
• 1 tsp. sugar
• 1 pinch each cinnamon and allspice

I am hosting a cocktail party.  I will be making cosmos and classic martinis.  As I don’t usually drink classic martinis, but many of my guests do, I wasn’t sure what garnish (or garnishes) I should have available for them.  What would you suggest?

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The short answer is olives and lemon twists. But you didn’t come here for the short answer, right?

“Classic” martinis – whether they’re made with gin or vodka – get either a lemon peel or an olive (or several, skewered together on a toothpick.) More people seem to prefer olives, because they’re fun to eat, but the lemon twist is just as correct (and I’d prefer it, in a vodka martini.) Also, if you add about a tablespoon of the brine from the olive jar to your martini, it becomes a “dirty” martini. (You can add more brine it you’d like, but your martini will taste roughly like seawater. You will be shocked how many of your guests prefer their drink that way.)

Cocktail olives are usually stuffed with pimientos, but for variety, you can check your supermarket for olives stuffed with blue cheese, artichokes, etc. Stores also sell cocktail onions – a martini garnished with an onion is a Gibson. The onion doesn’t change the flavor of the drink at all, but the tiny, sweet onions make a nice palate cleanser at the end of your martini. (People also like them because the onion helps them tell which drink is theirs.)

Lemon twists are the standard garnish for a cosmo, and for many other cocktails. (I like a twist in my Manhattan in place of the cherry.) As far as making them, a lemon peel of any shape will work, as long as the fruit’s been completely removed. If you are slicing wedges of lemon to garnish other drinks, you can simply peel the fruit away from one of those. Alternately, you can slice long, thin twists from a lemon with a paring knife. (Just make sure you don’t cut deeply into the lemon – or yourself.) There’s a lemon-twist cutter built into most lemon zesters, if you’re the type who likes to collect kitchen gadgets.

However you make your lemon twists, make sure you squeeze them over the glass to extract the oils. Rubbing the twist around the rim of the glass is a great way to add flavor to your cocktail. And if you want to be really fancy, you can light a wooden match and touch it to the lemon peel. The lemon oil on the surface of the peel will flame up for a moment (not quick enough to burn you), and the oil and flavors in the rest of the peel will be released.

As for other garnishes… you can use orange peel in pretty much the same way you’d use lemon peel, and a jar of cherries is essential if you plan on serving whiskey or sour cocktails. If you want to get more creative, go ahead. Garnish your martini with an almond? A pepper? Why not? Whatever you do, just make sure you chill your cocktail glasses in the freezer before the party to keep your drinks extra-cold, buy/make plenty of ice, and keep a pitcher of water near the drinks, where your guests can serve themselves. Everyone wants water at a cocktail party, but nobody wants to ask for it.

Either way, if the Old-Fashioned were a first-generation cocktail, the Sazerac is an immediate descendant. The same formulation – whiskey, bitters, and sugar – with a swirl of absinthe to transform the drink with anise flavors. (In localities where the absinthe is frowned upon, Pernod, anisette, Chartreuse, or even Sambuca would suffice.) The drink is usually made with rye, rather than bourbon, but if you really want to make it like Don Draper would have drunk it, you should use Canadian Club – it’s not strictly a rye, but it’s a rye-based blend, and it’s also Don’s brand of choice.  We sampled a bottle of their new 10-year Reserve label, and it’s a great buy in the $25-$30 range, whether you’re making Sazeracs or an Old-Fashioneds.

Sazerac

2 oz. Canadian Club Reserve 10, or similar rye
1 tsp. sugar
2 dashes bitters (if you want to be a bitters snob, you should use Peychaud’s, but Angostura will do just fine.)
1 dash absinthe

Start with a mai tai – white rum (or gold rum, or both),  mixed with orange liqueur (and amaretto, depending on the recipe) and fruit juice (orange and/or pineapple), served with a dark rum float. Keep the amaretto, and substitute a high-proof rum like Bacardi 151 for the dark rum, and you’d have a Zombie.  Scratch the amaretto, add grenadine and use coconut rum (Malibu?) instead of dark, and you’ve got a Bahama Mama. Use Chambord instead of Malibu, and it’s a rum runner.  Add some passion fruit syrup (and more Bacardi 151, if you’d like), and it’s a Hurricane.

All those drinks use the winning combination of fruit juices and other flavors to mask a high alcohol content – and while they all have their own charms, they’re fairly interchangeable, and they’re all serviceable as a summer party drink (to be served with care, of course – high proof drinks with high sugar content can lead to some terrible mornings-after.)

None of them are that distinct, however… or memorable. This week’s drink, the Planter’s Punch, gets lumped in with those cocktails – which is understandable, since most modern recipes add fruit juices and dilute the dark rum flavors with equal parts white rum. I recently stumbled upon a more classic version of  the recipe (found in my trusty Savoy Cocktail Handbook), which I’ve adapted here.

This recipe combines the bright, rich flavor of the dark rum with sweet, rich cherry flavors, a hit of acid sour lemon flavor, and as much or as little soda water as you’d like to stretch out the flavor. Still a rum drink and refreshing in many of the same ways, but it’s a bit richer and less cloying.

Planter’s Punch

• 2 oz. dark rum
• 1 oz. lemon juice
• 1/3 oz. grenadine
• Soda water to fill

Drink recipes are, after all, fluid (forgive the pun.) Do you like your mint julep with a spritz of soda water? A slice of lime? Then that’s the right way to make it. Sure, it might not have been the way to make a “traditional” julep – but if julep drinkers in the antebellum South had ready access to limes, chances are they’d try it.

With that said, let’s talk about vodka – unique amongst liquors for its understated characteristics and ability to blend with just about everything. Unless you’re drinking cheap stuff, any flavors you notice – other than the actual taste of alcohol – will be pretty mild. The process of making vodka (in which something with starch/sugar is fermented, the alcohol is chemically removed to almost pure strength, then diluted with pure water to bottle strength) doesn’t leave much room for taste. While some vodkas do retain a hint of the original ingredients that made them, the smoothness (or lack thereof) is the main thing you’ll notice in whatever vodka you’re drinking.

This week, I’m drinking a sample bottle of I Spirit vodka, a new brand purporting itself to be styled after old Italian distilling techniques. Distilled from a mix of white wine and fermented Italian grains, I Spirit is a smooth, neat vodka, with a hint of fresh garden flavors. A vodka like this would be great for a cocktail that focuses on fresh summer ingredients. Here’s one I came up with, but if you pick up a bottle of I Spirit – or any decent vodka, really – you should feel free to come up with your own.

Raspberry-basil vodka smash
1.5 oz vodka
5 – 6 raspberries, rinsed.
5-6 basil leaves
1 tsp. sugar
Soda water

Add the berries, basil, and sugar to a highball glass, along with a splash of water to dissolve the sugar. Muddle the mixture. (If you don’t have a muddle, just use the bottom of a spoon to smash the berries and press the basil leaves against the bottom of the glass.) Fill with ice, add the vodka, top with soda water, stir and serve.

What else should you try? Maybe watermelon and mint? Blueberry with lemon peel? Cucumber and honeydew? Want to add a splash of cranberry, or a float of Grand Marnier? If you come up with something particularly tasty, tell us about it in the comments.

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.

This all confuses me, since a martini is supposed to be a cocktail, of which vermouth is a crucial (if not secondary) ingredient. I would think a sophisticated drinker would be willing to order straight vodka, chilled, in an up glass, if that’s what he’d like to drink. It’ll taste fine, but for my money, it’s not a martini.

Still, vermouth seems to be the ugly stepchild of the cocktail world now. Read through any cocktail manual that predates 1970 or so and you’ll notice a difference – any number of drinks featuring full pours of vermouth as a proud ingredient. This week’s drink, the “Satan’s Whiskers”, is a drink I found featuring both dry and sweet vermouth, in equal measures. It’s a great mix of flavors – sweet, but just enough, with a tartness and a bit of herbal complexity from the vermouth. It’s fun to order, too, if you can find a bartender who actually knows the recipe.

Satan’s Whiskers

• 3/4 oz. dry vermouth
• 3/4 oz. sweet vermouth
• 3/4 oz. gin
• Splash Grand Marnier
• Splash orange juice
• 2 dashes bitters (orange bitters, if  you have them, but if not, Angostura will do)

Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Shake to combine and chill. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass, and garnish with an orange peel.

Most recipes for Satan’s Whiskers (including one in the Savoy Cocktail Handbook, which has a lot of great recipes and should be at the top of your Amazon wish list) note that this recipe is for “straight” whiskers; if you’d like this drink with “curled” whiskers, you should substitute an equal amount of Cointreau or another orange liquor.

Want to try something else with a decent pour of vermouth? A Negroni wouldn’t be a bad place to go. Or, you could just try ordering your next martini “wet” – with a proper amount of vermouth.

Sure, it stars in a number of cocktails – a Manhattan, an Old Fashioned, a Sazerac – but there aren’t many cocktails in which whiskey is a complementary flavor. The very reasons we love it – the assertive, smoky kick of a good Scotch, the oakey, sour flavor of a bourbon, the sharp, tart sweetness of a rye, the liquid-lightning kick of an Irish whiskey – make any cocktail based on the spirit fraught with peril. The whiskey will simply overpower everything else in the mix.

This doesn’t hold true for mellow, blended whiskeys – often called “Canadian” whiskeys, after the blending techniques pioneered by Hiram Walker and his Canadian Club label. Distillers swirl together rye, corn, and barley whiskeys for a smooth, even flavor – the blend mellows out the harsher notes of the individual flavors.

When the blending technique is combined with a generous aging period, you get something like Crown Royal, or Canadian Club’s new Classic 12 – a smooth, nuanced mix of rye and bourbon flavors with none of the kick of a younger, more homogeneous whiskey, aged long enough for all the harsher elements from the distillation process to disperse.

Something like the Classic 12 would be perfect to revive the Ward 8 – a subtle mix of citrus, whiskey, and grenadine. A harsher bourbon would overpower the mix, and with Scotch? Forget it. But with the right rye-based blended whiskey, it’s great. (If you’re not going to use a blend, rye would be the best whiskey to use.) This recipe’s just as strong as a Manhattan, so consume accordingly.

Ward 8

• 2.5 oz. Canadian Club Classic 12
• .75 oz (1/2 jigger) orange juice
• .75 oz (1/2 jigger) lemon juice
• Splash of grenadine

Chill a cocktail glass, and combine ingredients over ice in a cocktail shaker.  Shake vigorously to mix, and strain into the chilled glass. Garnish with a cherry, if you’re so inclined.

For you Mad men fans out there, Canadian Club is Don Draper’s favorite whiskey (he’d probably drink it straight, but he might order a Ward 8 for his date.) If you’re interested in the history behind this drink, check out David Wondrich’s write-up of the recipe, and its origins in Boston’s eighth ward – which is now Roxbury and the South End. Like many cocktails, this went by the wayside once people started clumsily mixing their whiskey with ginger ale, cola, and the like, so half the bartenders in Ward 8 probably wouldn’t even know how to make this anymore.

(Editor’s note: The author was provided with a sample of Canadian Club Classic 12, with which he was able to make a Ward 8.)