I have been traveling around too much to be in Mixology Monday mode recently.  Unfortunately I missed the last one on 19th Century cocktails.  How did I manage to miss that?  It sounded great.  Ahh. . .the travails of travel.

Anyway, this time round the theme is Guilty Pleasures, hosted by Two at the Most.  The main idea behind the theme seems to be ‘comfort cocktails’, similar to ‘comfort food’. There is also a suggestion that it could include drinks that appeal a poorly educated palate.  Hmm. . .

Forgive me if I randomly muse rather than picking a single drink.

OK, what I’m really going to do is smack you in the face with a Bunnyhug.  However, I’ll soften the blow by first musing on cream, creme de menthe, and other inoffensive things.

The White Russian immediately came to mind when I thought about ‘comfort cocktails’, but I see Dr. Bamboo has already covered it.  There is nothing too special about a White Russian though.  When you are in the mood for a White Russian just about any sweet and creamy drink might do equally well.  Perhaps the ideal time for these drinks is when watching a DVD at home on a winter evening.  A Brandy Alexander is great, and so is the original Alexander Cocktail (simply substitute gin for the brandy).  Tossing aside any pretense of sophistication, I also have to admit possessing a soft spot for a Grasshopper (creme de cacao, creme de menthe and cream).  My incredibly discerning palate means I find a mixture of two liqueurs and cream slightly sweet.  This is where vodka becomes my friend.  A slosh of vodka cuts the sweetness and boosts the octane.  The ideal proportions for these drinks depend on how you are feeling and how heavy your cream is, but equal parts is a good place to start.

I have a weakness for creme de menthe.  The taste might be sweet and one dimensional, but there is a pleasant simplicity about it, plus a gratifyingly lurid greenness.  Creme de menthe harks back to a simpler age.  Just possibly the whole concept also worked better pre-toothpaste.  Part of the appeal for me is probably that creme de menthe was the first liqueur I was ever properly served (stealing a bottle of Chartreuse as a toddler doesn’t count since I forgot to nick glassware).  I was maybe seven or eight years old or so at the time, and watching Murder on the Orient Express on television.  Hercule Poirot was sitting in the train dining car drinking a glass of green stuff.  Clearly this was something I needed to do myself at some stage.  I asked my father what the famous Belgian detective was drinking and within seconds I had a matching drink, right down to the glass.  I have trouble thinking of a really great cocktail that requires creme de menthe, but how can a bar be complete without a bottle of the green stuff?  It has to be there, even if you just pick it up and admire the color occasionally.

Anyway, before I got sidetracked by creme de menthe I was going to give a shout for the Bunnyhug.  For some reason everybody hates this drink.  I admit the Bunnyhug has a rough edge or two, and perhaps my palate could be more refined, but really, for pure abrasive flavorsomeness the Bunnyhug has few equals.  Another drink that comes close is the Asylum Cocktail.

I no longer drink the Bunnyhug often, but I think both it and the Asylum have a place.  The Bunnyhug is more of a flavorsome pick-me-up, an ill-advised strategy for grappling with a major life crisis, or something to order in a bar that can’t mix drinks.  I am less sure about the Asylum.  Given the visual effect I guess you could consider it an alcoholic’s Tequila Sunrise, save it as  shock therapy for a friend whose addiction to colorful umbrella drinks is annoying you, or treat it as an entry level Bunnyhug.

There are a few different recipes around for this one. I didn’t go with the recipe on the side of the Peach Bitters bottle because it called for sour mix. Who wants to use sour mix when you could be using fresh juice? Instead I got one from CocktailDB.

1 ½ oz gin (Tanqueray)

½ oz crème de menthe (Marie Brizard)

½ oz kummel (Wolfschmidt)

½ oz lemon juice

4 dashes peach bitters (Fees – it’s a light tasting product, so I used several big shakes that probably added up to about a teaspoon).

Shake with ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

The verdict? Lets start with the appearance. A green drink is always a bit of fun. When I about six years old I remember thinking green drinks in small glasses looked very grown up and exotic. I had a lot to learn. Mind you, even at a young age my taste in green drinks was impeccable. My first experience with a green drink would have been aged around 2 years old (probably even younger) when I somehow disposed of a bottle of green Chartreuse. My parents allegedly found me asleep with the empty bottle. The feat still impresses me. Probably I didn’t really drink the stuff. Maybe I tipped it down a drain or something. Tipping away perfectly good Chartreuse seems uncharacteristic of me though, while having drunk a bottle of Chartreuse as a baby could possibly explain a few things. Anyway the Green Dragon gets points for being green. Cool.

On to the taste. . . There is a surprisingly strong aroma of peaches from the bitters. I was surprised that aroma came through the mint so clearly. On actually tasting, the main impression, as with so many crème de menthe drinks, is of toothpaste. In this case the toothpaste sensation is heightened by the lemon juice. Now just so everyone is clear exactly what I mean here, I am not talking about the simple mint taste possessed by toothpaste in its natural, freshly squeezed, state. Rather I mean the slightly mixed up mint flavor you get halfway through brushing, after the toothpaste has got a chance to get to know whatever it is supposed to be cleaning off your teeth. That description doesn’t sound promising, but fortunately it is not the full story. Some interest is provided by a big caraway aftertaste, plus a hint of fruit from the bitters. The gin is there too, but doesn’t jump out at you like the other ingredients. It all makes for an unusual experience. Incidentally, in the dust up between creme de menthe and kummel it is the creme de menthe that cleans up. The Kummel is more an undercurrent.  Perhaps it makes you wonder if somebody switched your regular toothpaste for some exotic Eastern European brand with a caraway flavor.

Why this drink is on the side of the peach bitters bottle I really have no idea. Who imagined this drink was going to help sell peach bitters? The name is cool enough. Plus I suppose the oddness of the thing demonstrates that peach bitters are highly versatile. Having drunk this you will realize that peach bitters have a myriad of uses, not all of which are advisable. The mere fact that the peach bitters shine through such a bizarre concoction is in itself also something of a recommendation I guess. But who is this thing supposed to appeal to? I am pretty open minded when it comes to drinks and I just don’t get it. It is simply odd. I think I’d rather have a simple Gin Stinger (i.e. gin and creme de menthe). Or maybe even a Gin Stinger with a dash of kummel? Come to think of it that idea just may be a worthy variation on the gin stinger theme. Once again could it be the lemon juice that is messing the drink up for me?

I got hold of a bottle of Fernet Branca the other day. I’ve been meaning to do this for a while but it can be a little hard to track down. At Tara 57 in Shanghai, when Marcus was still working there, I used to drink a simple Fernet Branca cocktail (gin, Fernet Branca and Italian Vermouth) pretty much every time I went in. The bitter taste of Fernet Branca is very much my kind of thing.

Besides the simple Fernet Branca cocktail Marcus also used to make something called The Pharmacy. I think this drink was made from cognac, crème de menthe and Fernet Branca, though I’m not sure about the proportions. I’ll have to ask Marcus sometime. Anyway, the drink was rich, minty and bittersweet. It was the type of drink that could make a good introduction to Fernet Branca.

Searching through the Fernet Branca recipes on Cocktail DB I found two that stood out, mainly because they combined Fernet Branca with Dubonnet and gin. Dubonnet is another drink I have a lot of time for. I’d already been thinking that Dubonnet could be just the thing to smooth the edges off Fernet Branca, and of course both Dubonnet and Fernet mix well with gin.

The first of the two recipes was called Don’t Give up the Ship. This name must have meant something to somebody. . . The second drink was called the Napoleon. The interesting thing is that each recipe uses identical ingredients (gin, Fernet, Dubonnet and orange curacao) but in different proportions.

I made a Don’t Give up the Ship first. The recipe comprised 1 ½ oz gin (I used Tanqueray), ½ oz Dubonnet, ¼ oz Fernet Branaca, ¼ oz orange curacao (I had no straight curacao on hand so I used Cointreau, though I’m thinking Grand Marnier may be a better substitute). This turned out to be an exceptionally good drink. The flavors really blended to produce something completely new and surprisingly smooth. Obviously there was lots of complexity, but the Dubonnet and Cointreau somehow smoothed things down to an amazing degree.

Next I made the Napoleon. The Cocktail DB gives two versions. I made the version with 1 ½ oz of gin and a dash each of Fernet Branca, Dubonnet, and Curacao (again I used Cointreau). I went slightly heavy handed and used a level teaspoon of each of the modifiers rather than a dash (which I guess strictly speaking would be more like ¼ teaspoon). The other version on Cocktail DB is much sweeter and less Fernet Branca oriented, with a full ounce of curacao, ¼ oz of Dubonnet and a dash of Fernet Branca. I guess I should try that version too some time. I finished the drink with a squeeze of lemon peel.

Though not my first choice, the Napoleon also turned out to be a good drink. Obviously it basically tasted of gin, and so I guess dry martini lovers would enjoy it. The combination of Fernet Branca and Dubonnet struck me as more interesting than vermouth though. With Fernet Branca a little certainly goes a long way. Meanwhile, the touch of curacao gave the drink an old school cocktail taste of raw spirit tamed with a little sugar.