The Leap Year, Burnt Fuselage, and Chinese barmen

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So today marks a leap year meaning we get that rarest of experiences - February the 29th. This may not seem hugely exciting. However, back in the 1920s, when Harry Craddock was mixing cocktails at the Savoy, leap year celebrations were quite the thing. Harry Craddock even created the Leap Year Cocktail to mark the 1928 celebrations at the Savoy. The Leap Year Cocktail isn’t a bad drink either, being sort of a lightweight cousin to the Burnt Fuselage.

The Burnt Fuselage (which I found here at the Cocktail Chronicles) became a minor hit in Shanghai after I introduced the recipe to the now disappeared Senses Wine Lounge. Senses was stocking a good mixing cognac, had some customers who appreciated cognac in mixed drinks, and the drink took off. The drink spread from Senses to a few other bars, and I started getting late night texts from strangers asking me to confirm the recipe for them. Even more amazingly the drink continued to be made consistently to the original recipe for weeks on end. This consistency was something of a first.

Chinese barmen are not the world’s greatest. There are a few different things at work here. First, there is the Chinese trait called ‘cha-bu-duo-ism’ (or 差不多-ism). ‘Cha-bu-duo’ means something like ‘just about’ or ‘nearly right’ in Chinese, and describes the way most things are done there. If a barman finds himself without rum he’ll make a Pina Colada with gin. In fact even if he does have rum he may still absent mindedly make it with gin. Second, there is the Chinese habit of protecting ones interests by keeping knowledge to oneself. This works well if you are a character in a martial arts epic, lending itself to grand finales hinging on secret and powerful fighting techniques. Unfortunately the same habit becomes frustrating when barmen adopt it. A barman who learns anything tends to jealously keep that knowledge to themselves. If asked to pass the knowledge on to co-workers they may even deliberately mislead their hapless student. Chaos ensues. Third, there is just a simple lack of basic knowledge of how to make drinks in China. This means barmen have real trouble retaining complicated recipes, making simple mixtures comprising equal proportions of three ingredients a godsend. Lets also admit that these equal parts recipes are easy for inebriated drinkers to remember too.

So the Burnt Fuselage is made as follows:

1 oz cognac

1 oz Grand Marnier

1 oz Dry Vermouth

Stir over ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist, being sure to express the oils into the drink.

Simple, rich, complex and delicious.

The Leap Year is a lighter cousin to the Burnt Fuselage, and is made as follows:

2 oz gin

½ oz Grand Marnier

½ oz Sweet Vermouth

dash of lemon juice (my dash was a teaspoon or so)

Shake over ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

This lacks the powerful and complex body of the Burnt Fuselage. It is much lighter, less sweet, and leans more towards refreshing than contemplative. The Burnt Fuselage seems more like an after dinner or late evening drink. The Leap Year is probably more at home in the early evening. Not a classic, but also not bad. Why not mark the 80th birthday of this drink by mixing one up? Oh, and according to Harry Craddock this drink was responsible for more proposals than any other cocktail ever invented. The tradition of women being allowed to propose to men on a leap year must have been very real back in the 1920s. Some men may wish to closely guard the formula.

One Response to “The Leap Year, Burnt Fuselage, and Chinese barmen”

  1. MyLaowai Says:

    The Burnt Fuselage is still a minor hit at my home, and at bars where I drink.

    Good post.

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