Next week some of Shanghai’s best bars will celebrate Shanghai Cocktail Week.  Details appear sketchy but promising.  Participating bars will each offer a unique special menu of 50 RMB drinks, available throughout the week.  The event is being held to mark World Cocktail Week, a celebration that has been going on for a few years yet has somehow escaped my attention until now.  What can I say?  Every week is cocktail week at my place. . .

Participating bars include: The Alchemist, The Apartment, Arcade, Fennel Lounge, The Geisha, HoF, Jade on 36 (Pudong Shangri-La), Lost Heaven Lounge (Bund), The Martini Bar (Langham Xintiandi), Otto e Mezzo Bombana, The Public, The Ritz Bar (Portman Ritz-Carlton), Yucca.

Unfortunately there isn’t much info on exactly what different bars have in store.  Perhaps this means hitting them all up to find out? Rumor is that The Public will mix up New Orleans inspired drinks, Jade on 36 will offer a cocktail flight charting the evolution of the Martini, and Fennel Lounge will be experimenting with Chinese flavors.  My picks for reliably good drinks would be The Public and The Alchemist, with Yucca probably also worth a look.  As for the rest, there are a couple of venues I’ve never even heard of, and others I’ve heard of but never tried.  Last time I visited HoF it seemed to be a bakery.  Who knew they did cocktails too?

Oh, and the occasion being marked?  None other than the first printed definition of the word ‘cocktail’, in a New York newspaper on May 6, 1806.  A reader had written to the paper to ask what a cocktail was, and further wondered whether over indulgence in this potion might explain the confused political beliefs of Democrats.  The editor’s enthusiastic reply was both partisan and precise: “Cock tail, then is a stimulating liquor, composed of spirits of any kind, sugar, water and bitters it is vulgarly called a bittered sling, and is supposed to be an excellent electioneering potion inasmuch as it renders the heart stout and bold, at the same time that it fuddles the head. It is said also, to be of great use to a democratic candidate: because, a person having swallowed a glass of it, is ready to swallow any thing else.“

Havana’s numerous bars are in many ways all rather similar. All of the places listed here serve Havana Club as the house rum. Few have a decent rum selection besides the basic Havana Club range (i.e. the blanco through to the 7 Años). Those that do offer alternatives tend to do so only at the higher end. Popular top shelf rums include Santiago and Vigia 11 Años, and Havana Club Barrel Proof and 15 Años.

Bar Monserrate (Old Town – Oprapia St. near Central Park)

Popular bar with both tourists and locals. Fairly run of the mill place offering reasonable mixed drinks at reasonable prices. This place probably gets some overflow of tourists tired with the high prices at El Floridita, just a block or so away. Live music in the evenings. A good stop before or after El Floridita, for either a Mojito or a beer.

Cafe Paris (Old Town – Obispo St.)

Typical little local bar. Nice drinks and horrible food. Worth checking out provided you are not hungry.

Casa del Escabeche (Old Town – Obispo St.)

Another typical little local joint with live music at lunchtime. Unfortunately my visit was marred by an aggressive tout trying to sell me drugs. The guy was a tetrapack drunk (I was Havana Club 7 Años) and continued pestering me even after I shifted seats to put some distance between myself and his group. He eventually became quite threatening and I elected to make an exit. The staff did nothing to help diffuse the situation. The place seems nice enough, but (despite the delicious rum) I left with a bad taste in my mouth.

El Bodeguita Del Medio (Old Town – Empedrado St.)

Even more touristy than El Floridita, with trays of very average Mojitos sitting partially mixed and waiting for the crowds to arrive. The sad thing is that the crowds pulled in by the Bodeguita Del Medio publicity machine are flocking to a place that Hemmingway probably never patronized to drink a cocktail he never much cared for. Still, like it or not this bar has wrestled for itself the title of spiritual home of the Mojito. On the positive side, like El Floridita they partially justify their high prices by using Havana Club 3 Años rather than Havana Club Añejo Blanco as the house rum. Worth a visit just to say you did.

El Floridita (Old Town – Obispo St. near Central Park)

As per my previous notes from an earlier post. Worth a visit, but treat as a tourist attraction more than anything else.

Havana Club Rum Museum (Old Town – San Pedro St.)

I didn’t actually have a drink here. The bar looks nice enough though, albeit more like a tourist pit-stop than a genuine bar. I think I checked and was told they do not serve Havana Club Barrel Proof or 15 Años by the glass. That’s a shame given that it’s the flagship location for the Havana Club brand. Incidentally, this is where this rather cool video was filmed.

Hotel Ambos Mundos (Old Town – Calle Obispo)

Hemmingway wrote a chapter of For Whom the Bell Tolls while staying in this hotel, and naturally made extensive use of its bar. The lobby has been renovated, but the bar remains a nice low-key spot for a drink. There is also a rooftop bar. The clientele are mostly tourists, but there is none of the try-hard hype of El Floridita and El Bodeguita Del Media. The vibe is relaxed, the bartenders are good, and the result is one of the better spots for Hemingway fans to sit and meditate over a drink or twelve. On my first visit I shared the place with a pair of very drunk Russians who started thumping the bar and singing along to a somber Russian tune the pianist was belting out. Staff from around the lobby dropped their work to come and listen. All this at 10.30 am; Hemmingway would have felt at home that morning.

Hotel Florida (Old Town – Obispo St.)

One of the smaller of the old Havana hotels, this place has a quiet but nicely appointed bar. The friendly staff mix a good Daiquiri, and it makes for a nice retreat from the crowds on Obispo. Possibly a good choice if you are looking for a bar in the area without live music. Sometimes the Buena Vista Social Club clones can become a bit much.

Hotel Inglaterra (Old Town – Central Park)

The oldest hotel in Havana, located right on the central park, this place has nice terrace bar on the sidewalk. Touristy, but low key and well priced. The Mojitos are good, and they stock a couple of older rums from brands other than Havana Club. A nice spot settle down for some early evening people watching with a glass of rum and a cigar.

Hotel Nacional (Vedado – 21st St.)

A beautiful old Art Deco hotel with at least three bars. The outside bar near the lobby has the best selection of traditional Cuban cocktails I saw in Havana, including the famous Hotel Nacional Daiquiri. The west wing of the hotel has a large and well-stocked bar overlooking the swimming pool. This is one of the few places in Havana you are likely to find local exotica like aguardiente. I spotted a pink Piña Colada in this bar though, so maintain some caution. Finally, set apart from the hotel itself is a little cliff-top bar overlooking the Malecón. This last spot has great views, but a poor drinks selection. I ended up trying a Nacional Daiquiri in the outside lobby bar, and a Presidente in the bar near the swimming pool. Both were well made. Interestingly, the Presidente was made with sweet vermouth. I always thought it was supposed to made with dry, though I know lots of people use sweet. Anyway, my only complaint about this place is that the ice could be colder. Overall, a must visit.

Hotel Presidente (Vedado – Calzada St.)

A history-drenched Havana institution offering a small lobby bar and a larger but neglected-looking poolside bar. Unfortunately my experience was not great. The barman on duty seemed to have an attitude and I left without having a drink. I forget exactly what the issue was, but I think it involved me wanting an El Presidente cocktail (it was the Presidente hotel) and him being less than accommodating.

Jazz Café (Vedado – Paseo Ave. near Riviera Hotel)

Swanky late night club geared to well-heeled locals as much as to tourists. There are nightly performances of live jazz, but nothing much happens before 11pm or so. Good Mojitos and average food. I noticed locals (or at least Spanish speakers) drinking Havana Club Añejo Reserva with coke – nice choice. Incidentally, the Cuba Libre seems to be one of those drinks where a higher grade of rum is occasionally called for. I never noticed Cubans specify what rum they wanted in their Daiquiris or Mojitos, but they seemed fussier when it came to their Cuba Libres.

Lluvia de Oro (Old Town – Obispo St.)

Pleasant and recently renovated bar with a mixed tourist and local clientele. The Mojitos are tasty (that magic touch of Angostura), and the food is well above average for Cuba. They often have live music happening and the prices are reasonable. Havana Club 3 Años is the mixing rum here, suggesting they make an effort to offer quality. This was one of my favorite places in Havana.

Los Nardos (Old Town – El Prado, opposite the Capitolio)

Not a bar, just a restaurant with good Cuban food. The grilled chicken is excellent, and of course you can have a glass of rum with your meal. I made my a Havana Club 7 Años.

Prado y Neptuno (El Prado, on corner with Neptuno St.)

Italian restaurant with good food and a surprisingly large range of rums and other spirits – including lots of imports. One of the few places you can taste Havana Club Barrel Proof or 15 Años by the glass. They were out of the 15 Años when I visited, but it is listed on the menu and I heard from others that they usually stock it.

The Havana Club (Miramar)

This complex in the far western suburbs of Havana (not far from the Hemmingway Marina) is the famous Havana Club from Graham Greene’s Our Man in Havana. I made a point of dropping past here to try the Daiquiri, described so famously by Graham Green: “They had another free daiquiri each, frozen so stiffly that it had to be drunk in tiny drops to avoid a sinus-pain.”

These days the Havana Club is a members club, and supposedly one of the most exclusive places in town. I got in by showing up on a mid-week afternoon, mentioning Graham Greene, and asking nicely for a Daiquiri. The guard at the gate ran a liberal entry policy, but made me promise to leave before it got late and the real members showed up. I entered and found the place deserted. Casual visitors might not get in easily on evenings or weekends when the place presumably gets busy.

The complex offers club facilities, a private beach, and a couple of bars. The main bar is downstairs, with the upstairs bar apparently open only during functions. The drinks were good quality. Naturally I started with a Daiquiri. In one of those rare occasions where life proceeds almost exactly like fiction, the drink really did arrive “frozen so stiffly that it had to be drunk in tiny drops to avoid a sinus-pain”. It was the stiffest Daiquiri I found in Havana, and perhaps also the tastiest. Unfortunately, unlike in the novel, my Daiquiri was not free. However, it was surprisingly cheap, perhaps cheaper than anywhere else I visited. Membership clearly has its privileges.

Taberna de la Muralle (Old Town – Ignace St. in the Plaza Vieja)

Mircrobrewery with draft beer and passable hamburgers. This place gets good reviews but I found the food merely edible. Worth a visit for the tasty beer – makes for a break from rum. Predictably, they also have live music.

The Daiquiri at the Havana Club, straight from the pages of Graham Greene

While in Havana, when I wasn’t drinking Mojitos I could often be found in close proximity to a Daiquiri. I already discussed the Daiquiri in detail here, so there is no need to say too much more. Still, it would be a shame not to share a few observations on how the drink is made in Cuba.

First, when you order a Daiquiri in Cuba you are generally asked how you would like it. No, you don’t get offered fifty flavors ranging from blueberry to bubblegum. You simply choose between a Daiquiri Naturál or a Daiquiri Frappé. That is, you can have either a shaken drink served up or a blended drink served with a straw (in some bars the Frappé version is created by shaking with crushed ice rather than blending). Flavored Daiquiris exist too. For example fancy hotel bars may offer Banana Daiquiris and so on. But in your typical Cuban bar a Daiquiri is a simple affair that a drinker can enjoy in either of two ways.

An elegant Daiquiri Naturál in the Hotel Florida

Rather than sweetening Daiquiris solely with sugar or simple syrup, many bars also add a dash of liqueur. This concoction generally remains a simple ‘Daiquiri’ – it does not get labeled a ‘Floridita’ or something similarly fancy sounding. Triple sec is the standard addition, but maraschino is also common. The liqueurs used for this are domestic brands. I never got around to tasting them straight, but I assume they are fairly average.

Possibly I just have the look of a problem customer, but bartenders would often ask how sweet I wanted my Daiquiri. A very sensible question, and one that should be asked more often. Even better, if I asked for a drier Daiquiri I got one. Awesome or not?

There seems to be no real agreement in Cuba as to what glass a Daiquiri should be served in. Depending on the bar you might get your Daiquiri in a cocktail glass, wine glass, or simple tumbler.

Finally, although Daiquiris are widely available in Cuba, they are less popular than the Mojito and Cuba Libre. Tastes have probably changed since Hemingway’s day. These changes may partly result from the recent popularity of Mojitos in the West. Mojitos are definitely the tourist drink in Cuba these days.

A straightforward Daiquiri Frappé at the Hotel Ambos Mundos

So where is the best place in Havana for a Daiquiri?

It certainly isn’t the famous El Floridita.

For those determined to feel the spirit of Hemingway while sipping on their Daiquiri, Hotel Ambos Mundos scores highly for a nice dry version. The simple tumbler they serve it in may appear a touch homely, but Hemingway often drank Daiquiris from tumblers (check the photographs in my earlier Daiquiri post – link above). Naturally, since Hemingway spent several months living and writing in the Hotel Ambos Mundos, he would have drank Daiquiris in this very bar. Not a bad choice.

Slightly further down the street, the quiet Hotel Florida serves a nicely balanced Daiquiri in a wine glass. They also serve Banana Daiquiris should the need arise.

For me, the Most Memorable Daiquiri Award goes to the Havana Club, where my Daiquiri Frappé came elegantly garnished in a cocktail glass, and “frozen so stiffly that it had to be drunk in tiny drops to avoid a sinus-pain”. This really was life as fiction, a drink straight from the pages of Graham Greene’s Our Man in Havana, and well worth the trip into the suburbs. This memorable drink was the stiffest Daiquiri Frappé I came across in Havana, a touch sweet, but still very tasty.

Revolutionary decor in Havana’s Coppelia ice-cream parlor

Well over a year after I left the place, I’m finally writing about Cuba. I didn’t stay as long in Cuba as I would have liked. The lack of Internet in Cuba made work, and hence a lengthy stay, difficult. My stay lasted only five or so days, but during that time I devoted myself fully to drinking in the sights – and the rum.

I left Guatemala on a dawn flight, transited in Panama, and was in Havana by early afternoon. From arrival Cuba had its own unique feel. Havana airport was slightly worn, but red painted girders and splashes of yellow made it seem bright and cheerful.

Expecting military uniforms, I was surprised to see the immigration and customs officials dressed in casual jackets and colorful t-shirts. While superficially reassuring, the mufti disconcertingly blurred the identity of officialdom, and made it harder to sense if you were being singled out for special attention.

Immigration was a breeze though. Cuba’s issues with the U.S. mean immigration officers don’t routinely stamp passports. If you want a memento of your trip you have to ask for an entry stamp. I asked, and got the stamp plus a smile. Viva la Revolución!

I had organized accommodation in a Casa Particular (basically a home stay type arrangement, and better value than most hotels), and so hopped in a taxi and showed him the address.

Rain was pouring down. The country smelled fresh, and the scenes we passed on our way into town were under-industrialized and attractively shabby. The driver didn’t speak any English but we managed to have a bit of a chat. For part of the journey he complained in the way taxi drivers everywhere are wont to. For the rest of the journey we chatted about rum. He liked Arecha and thought Havana Club was expensive.

Afternoon on El Prado. . .

My accommodation was on a quiet side street (Trocadero) just west of El Prado, the grand central promenade running between El Malecón, as the seawall is called, and the central square of the old town. My hosts were a kindly elderly couple, and in keeping with their personalities the process of settling in unfolded pleasantly, but ever so slowly. Keys were fetched, forms signed, coffee poured, water heaters demonstrated, restaurants recommended, rum mentioned, money exchanged, and eventually I ended up with a key in my hands and the freedom to head out for a wander. Lovely as my hosts were, the whole process had taken a couple of hours, and I was anxious to just get out, explore, and just possibly drink some rum.

It was late afternoon by the time I was wandering in Havana. The air had a cool post-rain feel, the streets were generously sprinkled with people, grand old buildings decayed attractively, children played football, and the vibe was welcoming. People appeared remarkably fit and healthy, with the women being slim and toned and the men looking like they worked out. Possibly the food rationing effectively put everybody on a healthy diet, perhaps the relative absence of cars meant people walked enough to stay in shape, or maybe a lack of alternative entertainment options made exercise popular. Whatever the reason, Cubans were physically impressive and I couldn’t help taking it as a subtle advertisement for the revolution. Racially the population was a mix of Latin and African, but mostly the former. Many people had a very Italian look to them.

Although I arrived on a Sunday afternoon, the absence of commerce was surprising. My immediate neighborhood seemed to have a bakery selling a single style of loaf, a couple of hole-in-the-wall groceries with little on offer, a dark cafeteria, a produce market that seemed to have closed for the day, and little else. There were more shops on El Prado and around the central square. Few had much to sell though, and in many cases what they had was displayed behind glass and could only be got by asking for a cashier for help. Havana was no shoppers’ paradise.

The vintage automobiles Cuba is famous for stood out immediately. While they don’t exactly dominate the traffic these days, they still comprise a fair bit of it. Walking around I occasionally felt I had stumbled into a vintage film. Mostly the visual clues of the 21st Century were there, but occasionally they disappeared momentarily and you were left with nothing but the 1950s – maybe a quiet back street with a single gleaming vintage car, and a guy with barber’s shop hair strolling past in pants, braces and a singlet, swinging an ancient leather baseball glove. The people had a slightly Old World air about them, a combination of their choice in music (tending to the Buena Vista Social Club variety), their clothes (the local stores were some years from the cutting edge), and their rather polite and subdued manner.

On hitting El Prado I turned left towards El Malecón. Havana’s Malecón is a beautiful sea wall, and the perfect front door for a grand old Caribbean capital. I ended up down there every morning and soaking up the atmosphere through a leisurely run. Besides looking impressive, the giant waves that sometimes explode across the top of the thing added an interesting dimension to my morning exercise. Dodging the waves meant constantly alternating between sprinting and jogging on the spot – kind of interval training I guess. The highlight of my route each day was the Hotel Nacional, which occupies a commanding vantage point on a low cliff.

The Hotel Nacional

After checking out the water it was time to head back up El Prado and towards the central square. I was starving by this stage and decided to hold off trying any rum until after dinner. I headed for a place called Murral, a brew pub with a reputation for decent burgers. The burger was nothing special (though good by the dire standards of Cuban food), but the beer punched above its weight, and carried a refreshing sour edge.

El Floridita, a lighthouse beckoning Daiquiri-seekers

With dinner out of the way I headed to El Floridita for a real drink. The legendary Floridita was a disappointment, but first I’ll concentrate on the good. The décor is impressive, and on the surface appears little touched since Hemingway was a regular. The place still looks rather 1950s, and much like in the photographs of its heyday. Quality could be better overall, but they don’t overtly pinch pennies – using Havana Club 3 años their basic mixing rum. So I guess you do get a little extra for the high prices, though there are plenty of cheaper bars in Havana offering the same for less. Their blender drinks also have a nice quaffable consistency, perhaps the result of either blending for a decent length of time, or not overdoing the ice. Blender drinks have a habit of separating into ice and liquor, but those in El Floridita don’t.

El Floridita’s impressively decorated bar, surely still instantly recognizable to Hemingway himself

OK, time for the bad. These days the bar staff at El Floridita do not measure anything, do not squeeze fresh limes, and use an overly sweetened sour mix rather than lime juice and sugar. Big Constante, the legendary barman from the days when Hemingway was a regular, would not be amused. The famous ‘Papa Hemingway’ is an abomination. Supposedly it contains maraschino and grapefruit juice, but the grapefruit juice is from a packet and lacks any edge, and on the day I visited they were out of maraschino and substituted triple sec. Overall the place does not offer much, having degenerated into a nightly tourist performance rather than a genuine bar with regular customers. You pay high prices for it too, with a daiquiri being over US$6, compared to $3 or less in most other places.

So in summary El Floridita should be mostly, though not entirely, avoided.

Churning out the Daiquiris in El Floridita

I left El Floridita to explore some cheaper and more authentic bars. There were several to choose from just off the main square, but I settled on the atmospheric Bar Monserrate. It was a little touristy, but compared to El Floridita felt like an authentic local bar. The décor was simple and the atmosphere relaxed, with quietly casual but efficient staff and live music – Buena Vista Social Club again.

The lively Bar Monseratte

There I bumped into a German guy who had been made redundant by the financial crisis. He had been to Cuba a few times before and had some suggestions for me. While we chatted I tried a Mojito, and both Cristal and Bucanero beers – all good. The Bucanero seemed to be the strongest local beer, but was only a percentage point or so stronger than the Cristal. The Cristal tasted a little crisper, while the Bucanero was sweetish.

On the recommendation of the German I finished the evening by taking a taxi to a place called Jazz Café, which was supposed to have good live jazz. In the stairwell of the shopping center where the venue was located I got waylaid by a hooker. My attempts to get past her prompted aggressive questioning as to whether there was some problem with her looks. I had to apologize and say she was possibly the most beautiful woman in the world but it was really too dark to be sure. She laughed. So I guess my bad Spanish joke went over OK.

Cuban liqueurs. . .

I thus safely arrived at the venue only to find I was too early, with the music not starting until 11pm.   Instead of waiting around in the Jazz Cafe I went for a walk, and eventually found myself hunkering down for a couple of Mojitos in a deserted little neighborhood bar. The Mojitos were well mixed, better than at Bar Monserrate, and the friendly bartender gave me a lesson in how Cubans make the drink.

One of the nice things about Cuba is the friendly and down-to-earth bartenders. They are all competent enough (at least in matters concerning common Cuban drinks), don’t exhibit the prima donna tendencies of some Anglo-nation bartenders, and happily dispense advise to strangers.

A late night Mojito in a quiet cafe. . .

The hooker in the stairwell was gone by the time I returned to the Jazz Cafe.

Unfortunately I didn’t much care for the the music and so did not stay long. They were playing that post-60s style Cuban jazz – loud and unrelaxing. I think I was hoping for more of the Buena Vista Social Club that was being played everywhere else.

The Jazz Café was one of those places where you pay a cover charge that you then consume against. Either the cover charge was very high, the prices were very low, or I was very drunk, since I seemed unable to consume all I had paid for. I had a Mojito or two (decent), a plate of spaghetti (horrible) to ward off a hangover, then took the rest of my cover in half a dozen bottles of water to go.

As I left I saw the hooker from the stairwell sitting at a table with another girl and two guys. They were sharing a bottle of wine and seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Period decor at El Floridita

Leaving the bar I realized I was exhausted, plastered, spoke hardly any Spanish, and had left the card with the address of my hotel in my room. I jumped in a taxi, successfully negotiated a cheap fare home (failing to notice that the cheap fare resulted not from my sharp bargaining skills, but from the vehicle being a little three-wheeled motocab rather than a taxi as conventionally defined), somehow guessed the correct turnoff from the Malecon, and ended up directly outside my hotel door.

All in all, not a bad first day in Havana.

I got hit by the Tales of the Cocktail thing and never got a chance to finish writing up the places I visited for drinks in San Francisco.

On day three I visited the Golden Gate Bridge in the morning. The thing is huge so walking to it like I did is a mistake. You think you will be there in a few minutes, but it ends up taking you forever. The fort that sits below the south end of the bridge was pretty cool, as were all the historic houses I passed on my way there.

After finishing at the bridge I went down to the Mission District and dropped by Beretta, where I had a well made Pisco Punch (made with Bauza Reservado) and a Hemingway Daiquiri (Luxardo maraschino made all the difference in this one). I also got to sample a little Batavia Arrak, though the bartender was not keen to mix a drink with it. He thought it was too peculiar tasting to mix with. I didn’t find it that outrageously weird. It was just a funky and aromatic rum, maybe something like a cross between an agricole and a light demerara. The room at Beretta is nice and relaxed – at least when the place is empty. When it fills up it could become a bit of a noisy box though.

I dropped by some El Salvadorian restaurant for decent but not great food. Next I visited Monk’s Kettle for a quick beer or two. This place was more upscale than Toronado, and also had higher prices. I tried an Oaked Arrogant Bastard from Stone Brewery and then their oatmeal chocolate stout. I had heard a lot about their Arrogant Bastard. I have to say it didn’t stand head and shoulders above other beers, but both beers were good and had plenty of taste.

Next I tried to get into NOPA, but hit the place a little late and was left waiting for an hour before giving up and leaving. I dropped past Tommy’s Joint for a roast beef sandwich (very good by the way), and hung around there to meet my friend Jeremy. I had a Pyramid Hefe Weise while I waited for him to show up – nice beer. When Jeremy showed up I had a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. It was also god, but when I did a back comparison to Anchor Steam Beer I found I liked Anchor more. Tommy’s Joint is a really old school type of place. The food is all carvery type stuff. They play no music so it is very conversation friendly, and the most popular mixed drink seems to be Irish coffee. I’ve never seen so many Irish coffees being churned out.

Jeremy and I then went down to The Alemibic for a couple more drinks. I had a Sazerac made with the Sazerac 6 Year Old whiskey. The whiskey was a little light bodied. Rittenhouse Bonded seems to easily be the better whiskey for a Sazerac. Then I tried a Martini with Old Raj gin and Vya vermouth. The flavors in this were very different. The saffron in the Old Raj is interesting, though I don’t think it is my new favorite gin or anything like that. To finish I had an amazingly good pisco sour. The bartender dry shook it with the coil from the strainer in the shaker and got the most amazing foam. The drink was served in a goblet that helped concentrate the aromas from the bitters garnish on top. As we left the barman gave us a shot of a special bottling of Buffalo Trace Bourbon – very sweet and rich.

It had been a pretty long day by that stage so I was happy to crash.

Day four, my last day in San Francisco, did not see me do much. I hadn’t been able to book a time to visit Alcatraz and dropping by the ferry terminal to try my luck revealed enormous lines. I went up to the Chinese Cultural Museum in Chinatown but found it closed on Mondays. I decided to drop into NOPA around 5pm before the rush started. I had the place to myself for all of about 2 minutes before people started first trickling and then flooding in. I had a cherry flavored Sherry Shrub – light but tasty. Then I had an Old Cuban – tasty, though they go kind of heavy on muddling the mint. It didn’t exactly taste bitter or anything, but it certainly had the appearance of Sasparilla or some other health drink. Oh well, you have to get your vitamins somehow I guess. To finish I had a Pisco Sour with their house bitters. The bitters were nice, but the drink didn’t quite compare to the excellent Pisco Sour from the previous night. The bartender, Karen, was chatty until she started getting rushed off her feet. She said she was one of the few staff members not going down for Tales of the Cocktail.

So those are the places I visited in San Francisco that I didn’t mention in my previous couple of posts. I really should have visited Forbidden Island, but the awkward location made me set it aside for the first couple of days, and then Monday rolled round and I remembered that it was closed on Mondays.

Internet access has been absolutely horrible so here is a late account of my second day in San Francisco. . .

Today, still in a luggageless state, I did a little tourist stuff then further explored San Francisco’s cocktail and drinking scene.

I had a breakfast of coffee and donuts, listening to a black guy and a Mexican talking about San Francisco in the 60s. The Mexican guy seemed to be high on something or other. Around midday I went to the Asian Art Museum and spent a few hours there. The collection is impressive, but the presentation, labeling and breadth are what make the place stand out. Why does no museum actually located in Asia have a comparably organized display? Some bits of the collection were organized according to key cultural influences (religion and so on), so that exhibits on early Indian Buddhism would lead you on to chronologically later yet derivative Chinese, Indonesian and Thai exhibits. It was an educational way of setting things up.

After the museum I headed down to Haight Street and had a beer or two in Toronado, a bar with a huge draught beer selection. It was hopeless trying to order a drink here because there was just too much on offer. The beers were mostly U.S., but with a big European presence. They even had draught Chimay! I started off with an Anchor Steam beer, the obvious beginning in a San Francisco beer bar. It was satisfyingly bitter, a little yeasty, not too complex, and pleasant without being a standout. I switched to half pints and asked the barman to recommend a US IPA. I forget what he gave me, but it was 7% alcohol by volume, with full-on aromatic hops, big hop bitterness, and lots of rich malt. This was great stuff. European beers tend to be a little better balanced, but no denying this one was very tasty. I finished up with Southern Hemisphere Harvest, a beer from the Sierra Nevada brewery, and supposedly the first U.S. beer to be made with New Zealand hops! The story behind this one was great, but the beer itself didn’t grab me as much as the previous one. It was very smooth and malty, with the bitter, floral, yet not very aromatic New Zealand hop taste going on as well. It was free though, me being from New Zealand and all that. Whoo hoo!

Next I strolled further along Haight Street to The Alembic. The Alembic was located on a hippyish stretch of the street. Mainland Chinese tourists would probably riot if they were ever bussed through this part of town, what with all the people wearing Free Tibet t-shirts, the shops with names like Dreaming of Lhassa etc. The Alembic pretty full considering it was only late afternoon at this stage. I had a west-coast style drink called a Barbed Wire Fence, made from Graham Cracker infused bourbon, rhubarb soda and a ‘fizzy strawberry’ (a strawberry rolled in a fizzy candy garnish – specifically the fruit was rolled in crushed, cane-sugar flavored, ‘pop-rocks’ style candy). Ordinarily I wouldn’t have gone for a drink like this since it sounded a little too contrived. However, I noticed the barman pouring the rhubarb soda for another customer, the color looked appealing and so I went for it anyway. Although my visit was a little cursory it seems like The Alembic ranks along Bourbon and Branch as a place that makes their drinks with real care. The Alembic was my pick of the day.

I was sorely tempted to hang around in The Alembic for another drink, but I wanted to check out Cantina early, before it got too busy. At Cantina I had a pisco punch – a kind of a reinterpreted version. Rather than the classic pisco/lemon/gomme/pineapple, this drink was pisco/lime/lemon/orange/angostura/ginger-beer. It was refreshing, if a bit of a departure from the original. As I sat there some customer came in, asked about Tales of the Cocktail, and the bartender mentioned that they were going. Double Whoo Hoo! The whole Tales of the Cocktail excitement was building. According to the bartender San Francisco is going to be the most heavily represented city at tales.

From Cantina I ducked around the corner to Rye, where I tried a Dark’n'Stormy with the famous Gosling’s Black Seal rum. Gosling’s is a bit of a cult rum that I had not yet tried. I have to say it didn’t grab me quite like I hoped it would. No denying it was nice rum, but it didn’t stand head and shoulders above other rums I have tried. While in here the guy sitting beside me, a pilot and cocktail aficionado, asked the barstuff if any of them were going to Tales of the Cocktail. Further Tales of the Cocktail excitement. Triple Whoo Hoo! Actually one of the staff here was going, but didn’t come on duty until later. I should have gone back to say hello but unfortunately that didn’t happen.

After Rye I headed down to the Orbit Room to meet a friend. Orbit Room was a little hard to find. While searching I ran into a girl who was looking for the same place, and after a little wandering the two of us found it. Incidentally she recommended another cocktail place called something like El Colonial. Maybe I need to try that one too. I started with a drink made from cardamon infused gin and a bitter orange infusion. This drink had potential but I found the cardamom far too strong. The gin bottle was half full of cardamom pods so that was no surprise! I followed up with an Americano made from Punt y Mes. This was nice. I hadn’t tried Punt y Mes before. It seemed kind of fruity compared to regular sweet vermouth. My friend turned up just at this point. A little drink swapping saw me end up tasting a cucumber gimlet (served long, so not exactly a gimlet, but nevertheless very tasty), plus a couple of others that I forget now. We did a little talking about rum. Apparently I need to try the Flor de Cana 12 year old.

Our next move was to try and return to The Alembic. The Alembic was cram packed by this stage and there was no getting in. We wandered a block or two back along Haight Street to a place called Hobson’s Choice. This place advertised itself as a punch house and rum bar. The whole punch house concept was interesting. People really were sitting around drinking bowls of punch – punch of a slightly luminous color, but punch nevertheless. The place was also crowded and we went for simplicity and focused on straight rums rather than doing punch. I had a Lemon Heart Demerera – very tasty, but I’m not sure if it was the overproof version. My friends tried Brugal, St. James Hors d’Age, and a Mojito, all of which were well received. We again did a little cross tasting, though since I missed the Mojito I can’t vouch for that one. The Brugal was notable for standing out as being every bit as good as I remembered. As I ordered the drinks the bartender complemented me on “knowing my rums”. In fact, I didn’t recognize half the rum bottles behind the bar. Anyhow, quadruple Whoo Hoo!

By that stage I was ready for bed so that was exactly what I did. I took a taxi driven by a chatty Pakistani guy. The weird thing was that his English was totally incomprehensible yet he claimed to have been in the U.S. and driving taxis for 10 years. I guess ten years worth of passengers had reached their destination without ever getting the punchline of his joke about the President of the United States.

Down at the Fishermen’s Wharf I followed a friend’s suggestion and tried an In’n'Out burger, served by a very pretty black girl called Ebony. It was some of the least greasy fast food I have ever had. I should have tried the clam chowder in a bread shell but I wanted to save room for something from Chinatown. I wandered back via Chinatown and had some BBQ pork on rice, which was decent but not exceptional. The seasoning was unusually heavy on the white pepper and the texture was a little dried out. I probably didn’t get the right shop, but Hong Kong and Auckland both have better in my opinion. In Chinatown I found a boarded up restaurant with a notice hanging in the window that read “Dear Customers, we will return in March 2007″. I guess there is some kind of story there.

Next I swung past Cantina for a drink. There were no free seats at the bar and they were playing really loud techno/trance type dance music so I didn’t stay, heading on to Bourbon and Branch instead. Call me old fashioned but who wants to drink quality cocktails in that type of environment? I may try again tomorrow, perhaps hitting the place a little earlier.

Bourbon and Branch was everything you could want in a cocktail bar. They have the whole speakeasy, password-entry, exclusive-drinking-den thing going on, but they don’t push it to the point of silliness. I piggy-backed in behind some other guy, was challenged for the password, and of course didn’t know it. As soon as the hostess knew I was from out of town she took me on a tour of the place, showing me the front bar, the library bar, and some other bar whose distinguishing characteristic I forget. The front bar seemed the liveliest and most hospitable so I took a seat there. I watched the bartenders making drinks for a couple of hours and didn’t notice them do anything weird or cut any corners. The top shelf spirits selection was massive, the well liquors were quality, the execution was good, the ice was cold, interesting drinks were made from Martinique rum and apricot brandy, and the decor was great.

To start I had a Plymouth Gin Martini with Vya vermouth and orange bitters. I had never tried Vya before. It was very good, giving the drink a soft herbal edge. I was distracted by the decor, specifically the hammered metal ceiling, and didn’t notice how much vermouth they put in. I had asked for a lot, and I’m guessing they really did pour a fair slug because the vermouth taste was clearly evident and totally different to Noilly Prat or Martini and Rossi. I didn’t see them doing anything silly like a swirl and dump. Anyway, this was perhaps the smoothest Martini I have ever had. Nothing to fault here. I wasn’t asked if I wanted an olive and nor did I get an olive. We just had a quiet understanding that olives were not part of the picture. Nice. I am guessing Vya was the key to this superb drink.

Next I had a Pisco Sour, made with some Peruvian Pisco I had never heard of – Don Ceasar or something. It was a good drink. Not too sweet. The garnish of bitters on the foam was very restrained –  literally just two drops. Personally I might have added a little more, but if you add too much it ends up pooling in the bottom of the drink. Anyway, it was a good pisco sour, and the pisco used had that aromatic and rough-around-the-edges quality that lends itself to sours.

To finish I had a Manhattan, made with the bonded Rittenhouse (I think it was the bonded one – it was the overproof version anyway), Vya vermouth (I think), aromatic bitters, and a tasty little liquor-soaked cherry. The cherry was easily the best cherry garnish I have ever had. My only criticism here would be that the cherry should have been on the end of a metal pick, letting the drinker lift it out and enjoy it whenever the mood struck them rather than being forced to leave it till their last swallow. The influence of the Vya was less obvious in the Manhattan than it had been in the Martini, though possibly that was the effect of a very long day and a couple of drinks dulling my discriminative powers. No question the bonded Rittenhouse was great stuff though. It was far superior to the regular version (the only one I had previously tried), and made an ideal Manhattan whiskey.

I noticed a lot of people drinking Sazaracs, many drinks being topped off with champagne, and some intriguing and generously sized whiskey and rum sampler trays. I may revisit and try one of these trays. What with me being from New Zealand, the sampler trays mostly contained brands I had heard good things about but never tried. New Zealand does not have the greatest bourbon and rum selection, though it offers a pretty good range of Scotch. The menu even listed the hard-to-find Chartreuse Elixer!

To sum up, Bourbon and Branch is absolutely a place to visit if like cocktails and find yourself in San Francisco.

The one bar where I have drunk a Charlie Chaplin was a little Japanese place in Shanghai. This time the bar in question was not Constellation, but rather the little bar inside the Garcon Chinois restaurant on Hengshan Rd. That bar is much smaller than Constellation, and does not have nearly the same range of spirits, but the cocktails used to be very carefully and expertly made by a Japanese woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

She looked nothing like a bartender. In my experience bartenders are almost never Japanese women with greying hair and the homely dress sense of a church goer. Walking into her bar was like visiting a Japanese aunt you had only recently discovered you had. Things would begin with a friendly but slightly distanced greeting – understandable given that the pair of you had only just found out about each other. Then she would get busy behind the tiny bar. Were it not for the bottles piling up around her hands you would assume her meticulous and busily leisured movements were eventually going to produce a small batch of dumplings, or perhaps a plate of cold tofu sprinkled with chives and sesame oil. Instead, after the type of interval that builds anticipation without seeing it collapse into distraction, you would be presented with an excellent and carefully measured cocktail. It was slightly incongruous, but the results were very competent. Unfortunately I heard she has since left.

When I asked for a Charlie Chaplin she warned me that they didn’t have Gordons sloe gin (for which they relied on customers carrying bottles from Japan). She offered to substitute Bols while complaining about its bad quality and saying the taste would be too artificial. Warming to her theme she was soon lamenting that even single malts were often artificially flavored these days. I am not so sure if that is true. Regardless of that though, it is not often a bar cares enough about getting their drinks perfect that they will warn their customers before using what they feel are inferior ingredients. I had the Charlie Chaplin anyway and even with the Bols it tasted OK.

I made my own Charlie Chaplin as follows:

2 oz apricot brandy (I used Marie Brizard)

1 oz sloe gin (I used Gordons)

1 oz lime juice

Shake over ice and strain into a highball glass. The drink isn’t going to fill the glass without something extra, so consider pouring onto a couple of large rocks.

You would think that a drink comprising three parts liqueur and one part citrus juice would be extremely sweet. It is sweet, but less than expected. The slight sourness in the sloe gin boosts the lime, pushing the drink more towards fruity acidity than complete sugar bomb territory. Something about the lime and sloe gin helps the apricot brandy come across more as a fresh apricot flavor than a cloying liqueur. There is an interesting hint of almond flavor in the background as well, almost like an amaretto sour. This may not be the most exciting drink in history but it makes a nice showcase for apricot brandy, and is refreshing and neither too strong not too sweet. This is a drink that deserves to be made a little more often. The sweet and sour flavor profile also fits well with modern tastes, while the sloe gin and apricot brandy introduce a couple of ingredients not often called for in modern bars. Obviously apricot brandy is going to dominate the taste so try to use the best you can find.

Looking at the recipe I couldn’t help wondering whether it dry apricot brandy hadn’t been intended. My natural inclination to use eau de vie at every opportunity was probably at work here – I just love the stuff. So I made up another drink with an apricot eau de vie. Coincidentally I was watching a Buster Keaton movie at the time, so naturally I dubbed the new drink (if indeed it is a new drink) the Buster Keaton.

Buster Keaton

2 oz apricot eau de vie (Barrak Palinka)

1 oz sloe gin (Gordons)

1 oz lime juice

Hmm. . . This really wasn’t particularly good. In fact it seems a shame to attach the venerable name Buster Keaton to such a bad drink. I find relatively few experiences involving alcohol to actually be unpleasant, but this one ventures into dubious territory. The dry apricot brandy and lime are amicable enough companions. The sloe gin is very out of place though, and there isn’t much sugar around to smooth the rough edges. The drink is thin bodied, sour, and arguably more alcoholic than necessary – not unlike myself. You can certainly gag it down but is unlikely to be an experience you’d want to repeat. Sorry Mr. Keaton.

Well that wasn’t very pleasant but at least I think I have learned something. The Charlie Chaplin is definitely supposed to be made with a sweet apricot brandy, so get the best one you can and give it a try.

There is a club in Phnom Penh called the Heart of Darkness where I spent a couple of memorable evenings back in August. I drank Guinness and Tequila Slammers. The environment was a confused medley of Cambodian elites and their gun toting body guards (the doormen were very selective when searching customer for weapons), local foreign residents, higher class working girls (since the working girls apparently had to pay a fee to get in), and bemused looking tourists. It was lots of fun, but not really a sit-back-and-savor-your-drink type of environment. I have no idea if Heart of Darkness served Martinique rum. I discovered the dry and complex tasting Martinique rums at some other bars in Cambodia, most notably Riverside in Battambang, which gives huge pours of the excellent St. James Ambre for just US$1.

I met an interesting girl in the Heart of Darkness. She was easily the best looking girl in the place and for some reason ended up hanging around me for most of the evening. She spent most of the evening gyrating around me in a manner that I am sure would have made the Bunnyhug, however lewd it may have been, look very tame indeed. Since I don’t dance I settled for sipping my Guinness with rhythm. I think it worked better than it sounds, certainly better than me actually dancing. In any case, she was attracting plenty of attention all by herself. The Tequila Slammers were her idea and she even paid for them, adding to the surreal nature of the situation. A elderly Scandinavian couple looked gratifyingly shocked as she writhed around me and theatrically knocked back tequila. Meanwhile, I kept an eye on the door waiting for an irate boyfriend, pimp or husband to burst in and gun us both down. Learning that each of her numerous pieces of jewelry had come from a different guy, each representing a different country, did nothing to reassure me.

Cambodia is a small country, and while drinking St. James rum at Riverside in Battambang I met an Italian girl who knew the Heart of Darkness girl. My concerns had not been totally unfounded. The Heart of Darkness girl had recently married a French guy living in Vietnam. His friends had all warned him to have nothing to do with her, but she had promised to give up her life as a working girl and he had believed her. He spent a lot of time in Vietnam for business, and whenever he was away she would be out in the bars again picking up customers. It was definitely the same girl. The Italian told me that her long her long fake blonde hair was in fact a wig, and sure enough when I was back in Phnom Penh I saw the Heart of Darkness Girl in another bar without her wig. I was probably lucky that the French guy wasn’t the gun-toting type.

While in Cambodia I decided that the Heart of Darkness would make an excellent name for a cocktail, and that the drink should include St. James Ambre rum. Planning the drink in my mind I decided it should include St. James Ambre and Marie Brizzard Crème de Vanille (something else I picked up on my holiday there). In reality though I found the taste of the Crème de Vanille was not strong enough to come through in a drink using a strong tasting rum. The Marie Brizzard Crème de Vanille is more a vanilla perfumed syrup than a strong vanilla liqueur. I also found Martinique rum quite hard to mix with because of its strong taste. I considered another couple of other possibilities but basically forgot about the idea for a while.

Recently however, I picked up a bottle of Poire William and started thinking about what I could do with it. I decided to try and make something rich, spicy, and a little exotic. Poire William has a very strong taste and I decided it would pair well with a strong, dry rum like St. James. I used Dolfi crème de cacao to add some sweetness. For further complexity and to bring everything together I tried Italian vermouth and then Dubonnet. The slightly bitter Dubonnet works very well.

The Heart of Darkness

2 parts St. James Ambre

1 part Dolfi Poire William

1 part Dolfi dark crème de cacao

1 part Dubonnet

2 dashes Angostura bitters

Stir over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

The result is dry, fruity and spicy. It tastes a little like a fruit cake made with rum. My original recipe had equal parts of the four main ingredients which makes for a fruitier drink, but I think a drier version with more rum is better. I may play around with the recipe some more, but this seems good enough for now.

I tried it out on a couple of friends. The first friend liked it and the second friend suggested cutting back the bitters. Obviously I no longer speak to the second friend. Still, if you were to change the recipe you could try reducing the bitters for starters.

Last night I dropped into Trader Vic’s recently opened Shanghai restaurant for a Shanghai Expat hosted cocktail party. The service at Trader Vics is five star, the Polynesian decor takes you a world away from the grime and grind of Shanghai, and the food and drinks are not half bad. However, you can’t help thinking the cocktails could be better. The drinks are by no means bad, but it is depressing to patronize the joint that invented the Mai Tai only to find the great drink a mere shadow of what it could be.

Unlike most places, Trader Vic’s make Mai Tais more or less to the original Victor Bergaron recipe. That is, they don’t add any fruit juices other than lime, the juice is freshly squeezed, orgeat is used rather than almond liqueur, no strange liqueurs like apricot brandy go in the mix, and the drink is a solid rum punch rather than a diluted fruit punch with no rum taste. In short, they make a pretty good Mai Tai. Sadly they don’t use good rum.

The other disappointing thing is that Trader Vics do not use what I would consider a good quality mint*. The mint they use is the mild and herbaceous mint with soft leaves common around Shanghai. This mint doesn’t do a lot to the taste of a drink, or anything else for that matter. More intense mint with stiffer leaves is sometimes available in Shanghai, just a littler harder to find. I think the stuff with stiffer leaves is peppermint, and maybe that is not the ideal mint to use. In any case it seems better to me than mint with no real flavor.

The Mai Tai was originally concocted with Wray Nephew 17 year old Jamaican rum. As his chain of restaurants expanded and stocks of the Wray Nephew 17 year old became depleted and increasingly expensive, Victor Bergaron began using lesser rums. In particular he began mixing lesser Jamaican rums with the very dry Martinique rums to obtain a similar complexity to the original Wray Nephew product. Unfortunately, these days Trader Vic’s uses standard Meyers rum plus a house ‘Mai Tai mix’. The Mai Tai mix probably contains a little aged rum, but the end result is underwhelming.

Anyway, after the Trader Vic’s experience last night I thought I’d try making my own Mai Tai. Since aged Jamaican is unavailable in Shanghai I used a mixture of aged Cuban rum and Martinique rum. I found Marie Brizard Orange Triple Sec the other day, so that was another reason for trying the drink again. Previously I’ve only been able to find cheap Bols triple sec or Cointreau. Cointreau is nice, but the taste and alcohol content may be a little intense to make it a perfect orange triple sec substitute.

My Mai Tai

1 oz Havana Club 7 Anos

1 oz St. James Amber

1 oz fresh squeezed lime juice

1/2 oz Marie Brizard Orange Curacao

1/4 oz Monin Orgeat (Monin is quite intense so I reduced slightly from the 1/2 oz recommended in a lot of recipes)

1/4 oz simple sugar syrup

Shake over crushed ice and serve in a double rocks glass, putting one of the spent lime shells in the drink. Garnish with some nice quality mint if you have it. I didn’t have mint handy so used a pineapple spear with a maraschino cherry.

The version makes a nice drink. The rum taste could be stronger, but the complexity is there. The nutty flavors of the Martinique rum go well with the orgeat. In the absence of a decent Jamaican rum well aged Havana Club works OK. The citrus flavors seem far more of a background note using the Marie Brizard Curacao compared to Cointreau. I could be wrong though since it has been at least six months since I made this with Cointreau. If the drink has any weakness it could be that the Orgeat comes through a bit strong. Perhaps some more adjusting is in order, or perhaps real Jamaican rum would fix this.

* I have revised my opinions on this mint question. At the time of writing I think I had the idea that any drink containing mint should be as minty as possible, with peppermint offering a promising direction. Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, how absolutely disgusting! I can’t remember exactly what the Trader Vic’s mint was like, but I’m sure it was fine. For pretty much any cocktail, something closer to spearmint is going to be much better than peppermint. Maybe the Stinger could be an exception – were one to add a mint garnish?