Having made some quality grenadine, the next step is to find some drinks to try it in. Three drinks immediately come to mind, the Clover Club, the Pink Lady, and the El Presidente. The Clover Club and Pink Lady are simply grenadine sweetened and flavored gin sours, while the El Presidente is a complex rum, orange Curacao and vermouth affair that gets a gentle lift from a teaspoon of grenadine.

Recipes follow:

Clover Club

1 ½ – 2 oz gin

½ oz lemon or lime juice (juice of about half a lemon)

1 tsp – ½ oz grenadine (some recipes call for up to an ounce!)

1 egg white

Give a long shake over ice and double strain into a cocktail glass.

This one takes its name from a 19^th Century club of which it was the house cocktail. Made with good grenadine it is a simple but very respectable affair. The grenadine should add some pleasant fruit flavors as well as balancing the lemon. The egg white is essential. Be generous with the grenadine in this one since that is what gives the drink its character. The egg white also means you can add a reasonable amount without making things too cloying. Between the grenadine and the egg, the gin will slide down very easily indeed.

Pink Lady

1 ½ oz gin

½ oz calvados (or applejack)

½ oz lemon juice

1 tsp grenadine

1 egg white

Give a long shake over ice and double strain into a cocktail glass.

This drink adds uses apple brandy to lure the conservative Clover Club on a bit of an adventure. Nobody ends up getting hurt, and in fact the new combination works beautifully. The apple brandy now takes the lead, but good quality grenadine still helps add an additional layer of flavor.

El Presidente

1 ½ oz Cuban Rum (Havana Club 3 Anos works well, as does the Anejo Blanco)

¾ oz orange Curacao

¾ oz dry vermouth

1/2 – 1 tsp grenadine

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

This is a great Cuban drink dating from the early 20th Century. There seem to be a few variations floating around. Some use triple sec. Some use sweet vermouth. I think the above version is the original. Whatever variation you use, a good quality grenadine should come into its own here. The drink is already fairly sweet and does not particularly need an extra dose of sugar. What the grenadine does is add a little fruitiness to lift the drink (not unlike the lemon twist garnish), and improve the mouth feel.

This one is simplicity itself. I did scale down the recipe a notch. I also varied it slightly by putting a couple of small sprigs of lightly crushed thyme in the mixing glass to get some thyme flavor in the drink rather than just relying on the thyme aroma. The original version in the Gary Regan book simply calls for a thyme garnish.

Recipe:

2 oz gin (Tanqueray)

½ oz Chartreuse (either type is OK, but I used yellow)

A couple of sprigs of thyme

Put a sprig of thyme in mixing glass and lightly bruise with a muddler. Add other ingredients plus ice and stir. Strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with a sprig of thyme.

I would probably try this with green Chartreuse if I were to make it again. It is a pleasant drink though. The thyme works nicely with the Chartreuse, and as always the Chartreuse works with the gin.

The drink did came across to me as slightly sweet though, and so halfway through drinking it I uncharacteristically decided to tinker with it. I thought it was missing a vinous component so I added a ¼ oz of dry vermouth (the drink was half gone at this stage so this was probably equivalent to a ½ oz if based on the proportions in the original recipe). This much vermouth pretty much killed the thyme, but also fixed the sweetness. I’m not sure, but maybe, just maybe, a ¼ oz of dry vermouth added to the original recipe would improve this one? Or maybe something milder and less disruptive like Lillet, or even sherry? Or maybe I just make it with green Chartreuse and a higher proof gin (I was using 40% Tanqueray) and higher alcohol would take care of the sugar?

I just find the original a little too sweet, and perhaps a little too simple tasting as well. Despite the complexity of the Chartreuse, the original drink still tastes like a simple spirit + liqueur mix. I love anything with Chartreuse, but this drink would probably need to be altered a little before I would drink it regularly.

So today marks a leap year meaning we get that rarest of experiences – February the 29^th. 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.

1 oz dry gin (Tanqueray)

1 oz dry vermouth

2 dashes kummel (I initially used ½ a teaspoon then upped it to 1 teaspoon)

Not in the recipe but I squeezed an orange twist over it.

Surprisingly the kummel was no more than a faint background note at ½ a teaspoon. I found a full teaspoon more to my taste. This one tastes pretty much like what you’d expect, like a pleasant martini variation.

Given that kummel originates from Holland it might be interesting to try making something like this using genever rather than standard dry gin.

Update: I later tried this using Bokma Genever, 2 tsp kummel, and a squeeze of lemon peel. It was very tasty, and perhaps better integrated than the original (hard to say though since I did not compare side to side). The milder character of the genever blends nicely with everything else.

1 oz bourbon (Bulleit)

1 oz French Vermouth (Noilly Prat)

¼ oz lemon juice

¼ oz blackberry brandy (Peres Chartreuse)

1 dash Angostura bitters

Stir over ice, strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with a lemon twist.

I may never make this one again but it’s really not bad. Maybe it lacks a real focus but it has interesting flavors and isn’t too sweet. Perhaps it could even do with a little more blackberry brandy. The blackberry brandy and vermouth combination is nice, and reminiscent of the way vermouth and Creme de Cassis go so well together.

Incognito

6 parts Lillet

3 parts Cognac

1 part apricot brandy

1 dash Peychauld’s Bitters

Stir over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

This is excellent! It is a nice smooth drink that should show off a good apricot brandy very well. It is also a nice drink for showing off Lillet. As a fruity and summery aperitif wine Lillet makes a great partner to a flavor like apricot. Lillet being slightly bitter means you have to pick the apricot flavor out in this drink, but not every apricot brandy drink should taste assertively of apricots. The Cognac adds some backbone and richness, and the Peychaud’s Bitters give a little complexity without the heavy spicy notes of something like Angostura. Not being an especially strong drink it is also suitable for the oversized cocktail glasses that are favored these days. My only reservation is that since the formula of Lillet changed in the 1980s to become less bitter, this drink must taste a little different to how it was intended.

Culross Cocktail

1 ½ oz gold rum (I used Cruzan Estate)

½ oz Lillet

¼ oz lime juice

¼ oz apricot brandy

Shake over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

This drink has tons of potential. It was a tad light bodied and watery, but I colder ice and a different rum might improve that. Maybe the proportions should also be reworked a little. There are several versions of this drink. This drink deserves to be looked at further.

Peck

1 ½ oz gin

½ oz dry vermouth

½ oz apricot brandy

Stir over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

This is a simple but very tasty drink. There is a similar drink that uses Crème de Cassis in place of the apricot brandy. I think it is called a Parisien or something similar. Anyway, this one uses the same principle but with a different liqueur.

Maidens Prayer Variation

¾ oz gin

¾ oz Lillet

½ oz calvados

½ oz apricot brandy

Stir over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

The addition of calvados makes this one very interesting. However, as it stands I think it comes across as a little confused. Some tweaking around with the proportions might really improve it. It could deserve a second look some time.

Mayfair Cocktail

1 1/2 oz gin

1/2 oz orange juice

1/2 oz apricot brandy

1 dash of pimento dram

optional pinch of cloves (I didn’t bother – but in retrospect I should probably have added a dash of Angostura Bitters since that has a clove taste)

Shake with ice and strain into a glass.

I was excited about this one. It isn’t often I get a chance to break out my homemade pimento dram. Sadly it didn’t do much for me. The apricot brandy and orange juice combination is just not exciting. This might work better with a tarter citrus juice.

Charlie Lindbergh

1 ¼ oz gin

1 oz Lillet

¼ oz apricot brandy

1 dash orange bitters

Stir over ice and strain into a glass.

Tasty but in a very average way.

Prohibition

1 oz gin

1 oz Lillet

¼ oz orange juice

¼ oz apricot brandy

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

Given the excellent name and the list of ingredients I had been expecting to enjoy this one. Unfortunately it was a bit of a let down. It looks good on paper but somehow the orange juice-apricot-Lillet combination does not work very well. Small amounts of orange juice mixed with Lillet seem slightly insipid.

Barbara East Cocktail

1 oz bourbon

¾ oz grapefruit juice

½ oz apricot brandy

¼ tsp sugar (I left the sugar out)

Shake over ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

This was pleasant enough but not especially exciting.

Shrapnel

1 ¼ oz bourbon

½ oz sweet vermouth

½ oz dry vermouth

¼ oz apricot brandy

Stir over ice, strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with an orange slice.

This is really just an apricot accented Manhattan. Neither unpleasant nor very exciting.

The recipe:

2 parts white agricole rum (I used St. James)

1 part Green Chartreuse

1 part French Vermouth (I used Martini Rossi)

Stir over ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a sprig of mint if you happen to have one handy. Introducing a little mint scent via a garnish, and perhaps by rubbing the rim of the glass with a mint leaf or two, could improve the taste a notch. However, the drink tastes pretty good without it.

This drink good should go down well with people who like Chartreuse. It is also a good one if you are looking for a complex tasting rum drink that does not require fruit juices. The aroma is mild, like sugar cane. However, on tasting the drink the herbals in the liqueur and vermouth provide lots of complexity. The sugar cane character of the rum, plus the large dose of sugar in the Chartreuse, help tame the strong herbal flavors and make the drink almost gentle.

I have no idea why it is called the Affinity Cocktail #2. The original Affinity Cocktail was a mixture of equal parts scotch, French vermouth, and Italian vermouth, with a touch of orange bitters, and so far as I know is not very widely known. There is no obvious connection between the two that I can see. Maybe Philip just thought the name was good enough to deserve recycling.

This month’s Mixology Monday, kindly hosted at Jimmy’s Cocktail Hour, is all about whiskey. Note, simply whiskey, not necessarily whiskey cocktails. I should have lots to say about this month’s topic but somehow I don’t.

Of course there are many things I could cover. I could choose a favorite whiskey cocktail and write about that. I could write about my family’s ritual of drinking tea with whiskey in the morning on Christmas Day. I could write about a favorite whiskey, maybe Lagavulin or Laphroaig.

Of those two I probably prefer Laphroaig – particularly the cask strength Laphroaig. The thing about Laphroaig is that while drinking it you can never quite decide what to make of it. Laphroaig lacks the easy appeal of Lagavulin. It is clearly a fine whiskey, but not quite a crowd pleaser. Each taste brings something that attracts you, but in the background lurks something hard to fathom, possibly even something a little rough and unpleasant. You quickly decide that Laphroaig is very nice but not quite perfect. The imperfection is where the attraction of Laphroaig lies though. Laphroaig is a little like a woman who has a beautiful face with an obvious flaw, and somehow it is the flaw that makes her looks. Without the flaw she would not be half so good looking because there would simply be nothing to think about, and thus no source of interest. Laphroaig challenges you to think. It has personality and is endlessly interesting. Its a whiskey you could happily grow old with.

Of course given that most people reading this are cocktail bloggers they have probably tried Laphroaig and Lagavullin already, and for people who haven’t tried them a verbal description is hardly sufficient. Maybe I should write something about a whiskey not popular in the west, maybe the Suntory Yamazaki 12 Year Old Single Malt from Japan.

It was drinking the Suntory Yamazaki in Constellation, a little Japanese bar in Shanghai, that got me seriously interested in cocktails. The barman, Mr. Jin, suggested I try a Suntory Yamazaki with water and ice. This way of drinking whiskey is known as ‘mizuwari’ in Japan. I was brought up to think that good whiskey was best unpolluted by anything. I was not keen on Mr. Jin’s proposal. He was persistent though, and further proposed making two glasses using identical ingredients. One would be mixed to taste good, and the other would be mixed to taste average. He would let me taste both, then give me the good one and drink the average one himself. Intrigued, I let him do his thing.

He filled both glasses with freshly chipped ice. In traditional Japanese bars the barman works with an ice pick to produce individualized ice for each drink. They will carve a single snowball sized rock for a scotch on the rocks, smaller shards for highball type drinks, and so on. All this is done with ice so cold it is dry to the touch. It is a world away from the soggy machine ice you find in most bars. When I take people to Constellation they are amazed at how long the ice cubes take to melt. After filling the glasses with ice Mr. Jin began stirring one glass with spoon, thoroughly chilling the glass. He poured the melt out of that glass and added more ice before adding whiskey to both glasses, thoroughly stirring the first glass and giving the second a perfunctory stir, adding a little more ice to both glasses and finally topping them up with water.

The taste difference between the two drinks was enormous, and the thoroughly chilled one was very good. That drink totally changed my ideas about Japanese whiskey, and about drinking whiskey with water. These days I think that whiskey needs a few drops of water to bring out the full flavor. The Japanese whiskeys that are designed to be drunk mizuwari style taste good with an even bigger dose of water.

Hmm. . . having written a couple of paragraphs I am still not convinced there is anything I can say that a glass of whiskey couldn’t say much better. But continuing with the Japanese theme, the novelist Haruki Murakami wrote an interesting little travel book about a trip around the distilleries of Islay and Ireland. The book is called “If Our Language was Whiskey”. At least I assume that’s what it’s called. The name in Chinese is “如果我们的语言是威士忌”. If our language was whiskey. . . What a amazing world that would be. Imagine smiling people inhabiting a bottle green landscape. Some are gathered in fields where they appreciatively pass glasses back and forth. Others sit alone beside crystal springs and quietly savor. Proposing marriage is as simple as selecting just the right single malt and passing it across to the object of your affections. Everyone is content.

I suppose that just for Mixology Monday our language really is whiskey, so I will finish up with an appropriately named whiskey cocktail. Oddly enough for a whiskey cocktail this one was inspired by a potable bitters from Poland I picked up the other day. The brand is Balsam and the label says it is flavored with wolfberries, honey, and other unspecified herbs. This is a sweet bitters, something like Jagermeister but milder. Perhaps it most closely resembles Averna from Italy.

Balsam makes a nice sour but I thought I would try and make a whiskey drink from it. I did an experiment with some scotch but it didn’t work very well. The honey notes meant the drink ended up tasting like a Rusty Nail but without the easy mixability and balance provided by Drambuie. I decided to try adding some vermouth and mixing it with Jameson Irish whiskey. I figured the Jameson would mix better with the Balsam than scotch and produce something less sweet than if using bourbon.

If Our Language Was Whiskey

1 oz Jameson

1 oz French vermouth

1 oz Balsam (substitute Averna, or maybe a reduced quantity of Jagermeister)

1 dash Angostura bitters

1/2-1 tsp Benedictine

Stir over ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Squeeze the oils from a lemon twist onto the drink and rub the twist around the rim of the glass.

The astringent Jameson helps balance out the Balsam but the herbal flavors are still there. I added a little Benedictine as an afterthought. It complements the herbals in the Balsam but also adds complexity and helps everything mesh together.

I may play around with the recipe some more in future. Right now I am wondering whether an idea as weird as using Laphroaig as a modifier could work. Maybe I will remove the Benedictine and add a splash of Laphroaig, or mix the drink with Laphroaig instead of Jamesons. Mixing Laphroaig with Jamesons would be cool if it worked since Haruki Murakami visited both Islay and Ireland on his trip.

Update: I tried making the drink as above but with two teaspoons of Laphroaig. It was pretty good, probably more interesting than the original version. You notice the Laphroaig more on the initial taste than on the after taste. This could be worth continuing to play around with. Perhaps it could use a different bitters though, or the Balsam could be reduced. The Balsam isn’t bad, but there is something almost too smooth and mundane about it.

The topic of this month’s Mixology Monday is bitters. On a recent trip to Cambodia I happened to pick up a bottle of Suze. I had heard of Suze before but never tried it. From what I could make out of the label it seemed to be flavored with Gentian, an ingredient I’d only vaguely heard of before. The shop where I bought it was Phnom Penh’s largest French supermarket so I was fortunate enough to be able to ask a passing French woman what Gentian tasted like. ‘Aniseed’ she said. That didn’t sound entirely right to me since I had a feeling Gentian was something different. However, given that aniseed is such a divisive flavor I figured her description meant Suze had some kind of interesting taste and so I grabbed a bottle.

The French woman clearly was not much of a Suze drinker, or perhaps she was as confused about aniseed as I was about gentian. When I finally got the bottle back to Shanghai (along with my other Cambodian finds – St. James rum and Marie Brizard Apry) I tasted no aniseed. I found the Suze rather like Campari, but less intense and without the orange taste. Apparently gentian is some kind of bitter flower. Suze is lighter bodied than Campari, less bitter, a little floral, and apparently has a wine base. I like it.

Suze tastes great with a splash of soda or tonic, but I wanted to find some Suze cocktails. I did a little research but came up with nothing. There were a few cocktail suggestions on the Suze website, but none of them grabbed me. The standard cocktail websites don’t mention it much.

So in honor of the approaching Mixology Monday I did a little experimentation myself. Because of Suze’s similarity to Campari I took the Negroni (a favorite drink of mine) as my starting point.

I tried mixing 1 part Suze, 1 part gin and 1 part French Vermouth. This was drinkable but I felt it didn’t mesh together well. Perhaps it would work with the proportions changed around, but as it is I think the gin dominates. I thought Suze would go nicely with some fruit, and that some sweetness and acidity might help put the gin in the background, so I tried adding some orange juice. A version with equal parts of Suze, gin, vermouth and orange juice wasn’t too bad, but it lacked character.

Another day and another attempt and I came up with something I was happy with. This time I used calvados instead of gin, to produce a fruitier gentler drink that plays off Suze’s relatively mild bitterness. Calvados always reminds me of Autumn and so bringing out the calvados bottle seemed fitting for the season as well. I think this would make a nice aperitif before an autumn meal involving cooked apples, maybe pork in apples, or chicken Normandy?

So the recipe. . .

Autumn Frogman

1 oz Suze

1 oz valvados

1 oz French vermouth

Stir ingredients over ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Squeeze a twist of lemon peel over the drink to extract the oils, rub the peel around the rim of the glass, and drop into the drink. A dash of orange bitters might also be nice instead of the lemon twist, though I haven’t tried this yet.

This drink isn’t as bold as the Negroni, but I think Negroni drinkers will appreciate it. Personally I’m very pleased with it. For an aperitif this drink is slightly mellow (something that could probably be changed by upping the ratio of Suze), but the mellowness seems part of the charm. While I would never want to abandon the wonderful Negroni I can see myself substituting the Autumn Frogman occasionally when I feel like something slightly more low key and heart-warming. If you simply happen to want to bring out the Suze this drink is just the thing.
Why is it called an Autumn Frogman? This drink has three French ingredients so the name was always going to refer to France, and who could refer to the French without having a joke at their expense?

I am from New Zealand and in our minds (or is it just in my mind?) the French will forever be associated with the bombing of a Greenpeace protest boat, the Rainbow Warrior, in Auckland Harbor. Yes, I know it happened in 1985, but hey, they were French! The Rainbow Warrior was sunk in winter, but I expect the French agents spent the Autumn ensconced in their wet suits and training for the mission. The drink also has Calvados in it, meaning Autumn must be worked in there somehow. So I present to the world, the Autumn Frogman!

Being an unforgiving person, on a previous occasion I came up with a Rainbow Warrior cocktail, but that will have to wait for another day.