Good Drinking Through Bad Planning

This week's drink begins with bad preparation on my part.

I'm at home, and my thought is to have a drink. This is a thought that I am adequately prepared for, so I consider my options. Orange juice sounds good, so perhaps a simple screwdriver would work. I snag a glass, pour a shot of vodka, and head upstairs to the refrigerator.

Well, the reason orange juice sounds so good is that we don't have any. So I now have an ounce of vodka in my glass, and it's not going to drink itself, so I rummage through the fridge for mixers. And, towards the back of the fridge, I find an unopened bottle of apple cider.

Now, for those of you not within the Apple Belt, this is not the season for cider. Any cider that I find has been in the fridge for some time, and may be dangerously close to being a bottle of science project rather than juice. So, we follow the Three Scientific Steps of Refrigerator Food Validation:
- Visual inspection: Okay, nothing growing and the bottle has not become an inflated balloon...
- Sniff test: Smells like cider...
- Taste it: No tingling on the tongue, and I'm not dead after a minute. Hooray!

Now, this little project has taken me away from my primary project, which was Get Alex a Drink. I still have my shot of warm vodka, and now a desire to have a bit of cider. So, why not?–I pour a glass of cider on top of my vodka.

This Painted Daisy

Goblet (16oz), is 

available on the 

Contemporary Complements

website.

Unfortunately, I'm now in mixing mode, which means I can't just enjoy my vodka and cider, but need to evaluate the rest of the cabinet and see if anything else catches my eye. So, I wander back downstairs to the bar (making a note to buy orange juice so I don't have to go through this much work next time), and dig around the collection.

And lo and behold, I have something that intrigues me. SNAP is a spirit made by Art in the Age, as an homage to the flavor set found in lebkuchen (a German ginger cookie). Molasses, nutmeg, cloves, ginger and other spices makes SNAP spicy, but not sweet. It's not a sipping drink, as the lack of sugar means the alcohol bite shines through more than I would like, but it makes for a great mixer in other drinks. So, in goes some SNAP, and both Julie and I are pretty happy with the result.

The drink starts with the great sweet-tart profile that a good cider should have, and the SNAP gives us the complexity of spices bubbling around inside. The vodka serves two purposes: it shaves some of the sweet off of the cider, and, somewhat paradoxically, takes some of the alcohol bite away from the drink. (I note that while trying to recreate the drink for this blog, I tried to use a midrange vodka, with less good results. You're going to need a very good, neutral vodka for the proper profile on this one.)

In addition to validating the ratios, in the name of due diligence I also tried the drink hot instead of cold. Doesn't work; all it does is let the alcohol become the dominant taste in the drink. This is a cold drink, either shaken with ice and poured, or over ice (but melted ice does the drink no favors).

Cidersnap

6 oz. fresh apple cider
1 oz. vodka (Watershed Distillery was the go-to here)
1 oz. SNAP

Serve chilled.

The Best Vodka That Wasn't

In 1999, the Leopold brothers (Scott and Todd) opened a brewery in Ann Arbor, MI, named, appropriately enough, Leopold Brothers. It was founded with the goal of minimizing the environmental impact of the brewing process, which by default creates a lot of by-product. The goal was certainly noble, and the brewpub itself was marvelous--long wooden tables in the public house tradition, and an open, inviting atmosphere. Unfortunately, to my palate, their beer was always inconsistent--I never was able to settle on a beer to call my own, and there were significant variances when I would try a beer over multiple sessions. The bar did very well, so take my observations with a grain of salt, but I was an infrequent visitor due to the other, better beer options in town (but always willing to go with others for a beer, if for no other reason then to support their goals).

This Bullseye Etched 

Flare Shooter (2oz), is 

available on the 

Contemporary Complements
website.

Fast forward a few years, and it comes to my attention that they are now doing microdistilling--and my friend is gushing about their vodka. Always one for an exploration, I dutifully took the walk over to the brewpub and asked for a glass.

And it was good. VERY good. You let it sit in your mouth and envelop your tongue in a cold, clean, clear blanket. Smooth, a hint of a flavor note but a very neutral palate overall, and great viscosity. This was a microdistillery that Had Arrived. Delighted, I ordered a bottle. Delivered to me, I read the label: Silver Tree...Orange Brandy?

I looked up. The bartender shrugged her shoulders and managed a half-smile. "Michigan liquor laws."

Apparently, the liquor laws are so draconian and convoluted in Michigan that in order to sell their vodka, they had to package it as orange brandy (by, I don't know, waving an orange in the direction of their still or something). Eventually, it became so ridiculous to maintain the charade that they moved up and out of Ann Arbor and found their way to Denver, Colorado, where they remain a happily successful operation distilling vodka, absinthe, gin, rum and pisco. I continue to work down my stockpiled supply of Leopold Brothers Orange Brandy, but for those of you who are beneficiaries of our loss, I recommend a look at our
displaced entrepreneurs and their excellent spirits.

Walking in the Woods

"No," Joop said. "I gave you your change."

At that moment, I could feel the temperature in the bar get colder around me. With it came the sudden, terrifying realization that the next words out of my mouth should be carefully chosen.

Let's backtrack a bit. I'm in Amsterdam, and the goal of the night is to audition a couple of bars. I like having favorite haunts wherever I go, and it's time that I had a few in Amsterdam. Since I have zero interest in the coffeeshops (except for The Coffee Company, which is a shop that sells actual coffee), bars would seem to be the next logical choice. And, I've got one that's at the top of my list to visit: De Drie Fleschjes, a small place just off the Dam in the center of the city. I'd walked by it on my last trip, but it officially got onto my radar courtesy of Anthony Bourdain. (Check out The Layover series; the bar is featured in the Amsterdam show. But why, oh why, Anthony, did you spend most of the show telling me how much you didn't smoke pot, and instead tell me where to find the GOOD street food?...)

When you walk into De Drie Fleschjes, you're going to immediately feel like you've stepped back in time a few years (understandable, as the bar dates to 1650). To your right are rows of small barrels, private casks for companies and frequent guests. To your left is a bar, with a few hunks of cured meat hanging out by the register and chalkboards near the ceiling with the drink specialties. It's small, there's no seating, but it feels cozy - the kind of place where you really can escape the bustle of the city.

When I arrived, there were four others in the place, some twenty-somethings getting their drink on for a night out. They were charming and welcoming to me, including me in a round of drinks (more on that in a bit). They left, and then it was time for the reason for the visit - genever.

I'll save the details for later (since it should be an entry on its own), but suffice it to say that it's a gin precursor that has a unique enough profile to have an enthusiastic slot in my bar. Joop, the proprietor (or "Uitbater" as his card reads) walked me through the differences between oude and jonge genever (not aging, but old-style and new-style), and the different ages of genever (his tip: 6-year oude is the best balance of age and price, which is why I have a bottle of it). I even asked to buy one of the small glasses that the genever is served in, and it was handed to me gratis. I handed over my tab money, admiring my new glassware and basking in the warm glow of several glasses of genever and other house specialties. Joop began to wash glasses behind the bar, as it's just about closing time for them (this is not a late-night bar on weekdays, take note). I waited for a moment, then breezily commented "I'll just get my change, and be on my way."

Joop continued to wash glasses. "I paid you."

Still distracted, I continue. "I gave you a ten, so I just need the change."

"No," Joop said. "I gave you your change."

So, we're now back to that cold wash of adrenaline that we began this entry with. If I say one more word that implies that I did not get change, I will have officially accused my host - the man who has been generous with his time, knowledge and glassware - of being a thief. As comfortable as I might be traveling around, I still am sensitive to the fact that I am not as familiar with foreign customs, body language, and understood societal norms as I would prefer to be, and the fact that this conversation is being held in English as a courtesy to me does not make it any less forgiving if I misspeak right now.

Inside, I'm beginning to feel panic bubble up, and trying very hard to calm myself but quickly react, I assess the situation. My wallet is out, and I can see that the front bill is a five. I'm pretty sure that I came in with a ten in front, so that five might very well be the change of which he speaks. I'll admit that the glass was distracting me, and I'm the one that's had four drinks here, not him...

And then, in a moment of perfect clarity, I realize that I am wrong. This is not some weighing of the facts and deciding that the majority of the evidence points to his assertion (which it does); this is the sudden glorious acceptance that Joop is correct and I am wrong. I have trouble imagining what it would be like to run a bar in a city that caters to vices the way Amsterdam does, and to do so in a way that is respectful to the centuries that De Drie Fleschjes has existed and reflects, I am sure, the personality of Joop himself. This is a classic bar, that serves classic drinks, in a setting that's not flashy or sterile, but offers a top-notch bar experience at a fair price. Joop has been the consummate bartender: attentive, aware of all of his guests while keeping up with the never-ending tasks that a bar generates, and letting his generosity be displayed not through some faux charm or forced friendliness, but in his actions and his service. In this moment, I believed - and still believe - that Joop told me that he gave me my change because, well, he gave me my change. There was no doubt in the way he said it, and the trust that I placed in him all evening had no reason to end now.

This week's glass
is from De Drie Fleschjes,
and is not for sale.

I don't remember the specifics afterwards; I was still a bit jittery from the moment, and I desperately wanted to get everything else right so that I could come back again and pick up where I left off (and not be that American guy that tried to cheat him out of a five-spot). This week's drink is the first drink I had in De Drie Fleschjes, and as much as the reason for the visit was the genever, I've chosen A Walk in the Woods, a drink that the bar uses as a signature shot, as my drink this week to say thank you to Joop for taking care of me. Next time, I'll do better.

A Walk in the Woods (Boswandeling)

3/4 oz. vodka (this week, from Watershed Distillery)

1/4 oz. triple sec (Bols 42-proof)

Dash bitters (Angostura for the moment, though I'm open to forests elsewhere...)

Serve chilled.

Tiki Love

Let us talk of the tiki.

I've already documented my tiki-flavored introduction to my fascination with alcohol in an earlier blog entry, but the fantasy-Polynesian world perpetuated by those who adhere to the theme remains a delight of mine. I will once again push off the story of the Zombie, but I will hint at one theme that story will expound upon: the origin of these drinks, the early 1930's post-Prohibition versions of the classic tiki drinks, were designed to be beverages for adults, not candy liquid.

This drink is pictured in the

Black & Silver Polka Dot 

Cosmo Pilsner (16.5oz), 

available on the 

Contemporary Complements website. 

The black tiki mug is from 

Frankie's Tiki Room 

in Las Vegas.

That said whenever I try a new recipe, I must always bear in mind that my wife likes drinks to be a bit on the sweet side. Where many of the classics of the genre are tart combination of lime or grapefruit juice, I always need to have a bit of pineapple juice handy to bring the sweetness up to my wife's preferences. It's not a big deal to spike her drink after decanting my own, but it does illustrate a guiding principle in my mixology missions: it don't matter what you did to it, if they ain't gonna drink it. If I can bring up the sweetness a bit (using appropriate and moderated means, of course) in order to make my primary audience more enthusiastic about the drink, then bring on the grenadine and pineapple.

Today's drink does not suffer from said lack of sweet. The Blue Hawaii has a creator (Harry K. Yee of the Hawaiian Village Hotel, circa 1957), a mission (help Bols sell blue curacao), and a profile that definitely settles it on the sweet end of the spectrum. It has a seafoam green-blue color that's almost a shame to hide in a tiki glass, but it's very much the kind of drink that won't surprise you coming out of said glass. As always, make your own sour mix (see the Long Island Iced Tea recipe for my sour mix notes) to take out might be a bit too much sweet, but otherwise this is a drink that's very easy, uses basic alcohols, and is as tiki as a Hawaiian lei.

Blue Hawaii

3 oz. fresh pineapple juice
.5 oz. blue curacao (I use Bols)
.75 oz. rum (I use Bacardi white)
.75 oz. vodka (any midrange will do, such as Absolut)
1 oz. sour mix

Shake vigorously with ice, pour into tiki mug or tall glass.

This recipe appears in Beachbum Berry's Sippin' Safari, and is also available on his app, Beachbum Berry's Tiki +, for the iPhone or iPad.

The Nutty Irishman - Jello Shot

Jello shots were never on my radar through my college years; I wasn't much on Jello, and it always seemed like too much trouble to make when the alcohol you were going to use was already ready to use, and measuring cups make good glasses in a pinch. That said, my wife started playing with Jello shots as part of our annual New Year's celebrations, and quickly became very good at both the preparation and the flavor mixing of Jello shots. (As a note: yes, I know I'm throwing around a brand name casually again-without the hyphen, even. I'm in Vegas, and you're lucky I can still string sentences together. Also, find me something better than Jello or Knox gelatin, and we'll consider revising.)

All of the above is simply to say that when it comes to Jello shots, I'm an enthusiastic proponent, but I leave the preparation to the experts. So, without further ado, here's Julie. I love you, and I promise that Vegas has been an appropriate amount of fun....

On that note... he may not be a fan of Jello but he has been a great addition to the Jello shot quality control department (taste tester) as I've tried new combinations over the years.  Thanks dear!

I too was never into the whole Jello shot thing in college.  It wasn't until about 10 year ago that I ventured into the world of mixing Jello with the 'alcohol of choice."  Because it was all new, the best delivery system was also trial and error.  The first year I actually used glass shot glasses and we quickly discovered they were too deep to effectively get all of the jello out of the glass.  Then I tried ice cube trays... not the best shape.  Next were the JELL-O Bean molds... those were too small but very fun and colorful when mixed in a big bowl (great for parties).  I also tried the Jell-O egg molds but those were too large and not easy for consumption.  So, within the past 5 years we've gone to using the .75oz condiment cups and lids from Gordon Food Service - (the 1oz cups are too deep).  These cups work the best!!  They're easy to stack and store in the fridge while they are setting up, they make for easy travel and they make for easy clean-up.  As most of my friends & family will tell you I'm pretty 'green' and try to always take into account the environmental impact of my purchasing... but the use of the disposable plastic cups is one exception I make.

Most of my Jello shots have been made using flavored JELL-O and then adding alcohol to compliment and/or improve that flavor.  I know the typical addition is vodka because it has a higher alcohol content - but I'm of the theory that if I'm going to eat it - I want to enjoy it.  So, I've tried many combinations over the years but have a few tried and trues that are always on the list when I ask for special requests.

Those include:

Peach Jello w/ DuKuyper Peachtree Schnapps

Berry Blue Jello w/ DuKuyper Blue Curacao

Grape Jello w/ DuKuyper Grape Pucker or Creme de Cassis

Lime Jello w/ Amaretto Di Saronno

Orange Jello w/ Pinnacle Whipped Vodka

Black Cherry Jello w/ Absolut Watkins Vodka (almond & coffee flavor)

Note: There is a Jello Shot note on my Contemporary Complements Facebook page with more fun combinations.

All of these combinations are great but last fall, as were planning for the New Year's party, I started looking for something more... adventurous.  That's when I started searching the web and ran across the Jelly Shot Test Kitchen blog and book.  They have put together a great collection of recipes and presentation ideas.  That being said I've now been experimenting with Knox unflavored gelatin a bit more.  It's been a lot of fun and it's what led me to my first layered Jello shot and this weeks "Drink" of the Week in observance of St. Patrick's Day - enjoy!

This Jello shot is pictured in the

Shamrock Shot Glass, available on the 

Contemporary Complements website.

The Nutty Irishman Jello Shot

This jello shot has been adapted from the ever popular drink and created into a layered jello shot that will make any St. Patrick's Day celebration (or any party for that matter) complete.

Preparation can be done in a variety of containers including standard shot glasses, a loaf pan and then cut into squares or .75oz condiment cups.

Kahlua Layer:

1/2 cup brewed coffee or espresso

1 envelope Knox gelatin

1/2 cup Kahlua coffee liqueur

Pour the coffee into a small saucepan and sprinkle with the gelatin - allowing to soak 1-2 minutes and then heating over low heat, stirring regularly, until gelatin is fully dissolved.  Remove from heat and stir in the Kahlua.  Pour mixture in container of choice and chill until fully set (approx. 1 hr.).

Frangelico Layer

1 cup Frangelico

1 envelope Knox gelatin

Pour the Frangelico into a small saucepan and sprinkle with the gelatin - allowing to soak 1-2 minutes and then heating over low heat, stirring regularly, until gelatin is fully dissolved.  Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly.  Remove the chilled Kahlua layer from the refrigerator and carefully pour the Frangelico mixture over the top.  Return to the fridge and chill until fully set (approx. 1 hr.).

Bailey's Layer

1/2 cup water

1 envelope Knox gelatin

1/2 cup Bailey's Irish Cream liqueur

Pour the water into a small saucepan and sprinkle with the gelatin - allowing to soak 1-2 minutes and then heating over low heat, stirring regularly, until gelatin is fully dissolved.  Remove from heat, stir in the Irish Cream and allow to cool slightly.  Remove the chilled Kahlua/Frangelico layers from the refrigerator and carefully pour the Bailey's mixture over the top.  Return to the fridge and chill until fully set - overnight recommended.

Old Faithful

This drink is pictured in the

Wave Polka Dot  11.5  oz. Pub Glass, 

available on the 

Contemporary Complements website.

Aaaah, the rum and Coke. Steady, omnipresent, always available, and still manages a variety of flavors (and quality) based on the rum used. This and the Long Island Iced Tea are the two drinks I have probably consumed the most over the years, and it's almost a default drink when I'm out and don't know whether to trust the bar service yet.

Let's start by defining some parameters. I set the Cuba Libre aside as separate for the moment. This drink is a very specific thing: Bacardi Gold, Coca-Cola, and fresh lime juice (supplied by the obligatory wedge). It's a wonderful drink, and each ingredient serves the drink well: the Coke adds the cola flavor and the sweetness; the Bacardi modifies the sweet into richness by adding the familiar Bacardi bite with the molasses undertones that the gold rum provides; the lime adds a splash of citrusy freshness, masks a bit of the carbonic acid, and blends the two strong flavors together. This, however, is not about the Cuba Libre, as most places are going to use either fountain Coke, crap rum, dried-up old lime wedges, or some combination of the three.

No, we are going to focus on the two-ingredient version of this drink: Coca-Cola and rum. There's no point arguing the first ingredient–no Coca-Cola, no drink. Pepsi fouls up the drink into a syrupy mess, and although other colas bring interesting flavors to the story, when an ingredient is as readily available as Coke is, and produces such marvelous results as it does, that we shouldn't just accept it and move on. (Note that I'm not going down the road of so-called "Mexican Coke", Kosher-for-Passover Coke or the Coke I get in Europe, but suffice it to say that if I can get the nonstandard stuff, I get it.)

So, we are left with the rum to discuss. I defaulted to Bacardi Gold for years, and won't argue with it today. I went through several other phases (Gosling's, Navy and Myer's rums notably), and while I'm overseas I'm a Havana Club maniac, but I've recently settled on a relative newcomer to the game: The Kraken Rum. It's a 94 proof black rum, with a bit of spice thrown into the mix. It has a bit sweeter of a taste profile than I might usually consider, but the extra proof offsets it in a rum and Coke. The spice set complements the cola profile nicely; basically, it's everything I want in a rum and Coke.

What ratio to use? Well, if you're making it easy on yourself and simply emptying a 12 ounce can into a glass, there's a pretty tight borderline I'd suggest. You might not think a half-ounce of alcohol would make a difference in 14 or 15 ounces of drink, but there's a really bright line change in the taste of the drink between 2.5 and 3 ounces of Kraken in your can of Coke. At 2.5 oz. of rum, the Coke continues to maintain its last shred of sweetness, pleading that it's still a soda with stuff in it; at 3 ounces of rum, it's all collapsed into itself and you're left with the cola and the rum coexisting on equal terms. If you want that little bit of sweetness to remain, simply cut it back to 2.5 oz. of rum.

If you're using one of those cute 7.5 oz. serving cans that Coke makes, you'll cheat the rum down a touch from two ounces; if you're splitting a 16.9 ounce glass bottle into two drinks, use two ounces per half and you're golden. Otherwise, to use the basic can of Coke and the bottle of Kraken rum you'll be obtaining in the future, I give you my recipe for rum and Coke goodness.

Rum and Coke

12 oz. Coca-Cola
3 oz. Kraken rum

Add a third of the Coke to a tall glass with ice, then add rum. Pour remaining Coke into glass.

Julischka

So, it’s 2004, and I’m attending my first Essen Spiel (anannual game convention that attracts upwards of 180,000 people every year) in Essen, Germany. We stay at the Hotel Arosa, and we’re having dinner at the end of theshow on Sunday night. At this dinner, I am introduced for the first time to anamber nectar called julischka.

This julischka glass is available from
Contemporary Complements by
special order.

Julischka is an Eastern European liqueur made from two basiccomponents: slivovitz (a plum brandy) and kruskovec (pear liqueur). It’s anaperitif (well, it’s usually an aperitif; we tend to make it a starter, thirdcourse, aperitif, and desserts 1, 3, 4 and 5). It’s sweet, fruity, with aslightly thick mouth feel and a lingering sweetness that never goes cloying.

The hotel dislocated the restaurant, and they’ve now endedup in Gelsenkirchen in their own place. Dragi, the cook, proprietor and SupremeHostess of the Essen Dinner (lifetime), makes one or more of the liqueurs, andadds a secret ingredient (eventually outed as hruska, a sour apple extract, ina very small quantity). I’ve discussed the initial process of replicating theliqueur on my Facebook page, but suffice it to say I’ve gone down a slightlydifferent path, spiking my blend with Zwack (more on that later) as adimensional layer. I can’t duplicate her julischka, and frankly don’t want to;this is about being able to talk with my American friends about the piles ofperfectly-cooked Argentinean steaks, the wienerschnitzel that’s paper-thin andbreaded expertly, the amazing goulash soup, and the hundreds (yes, hundreds) ofother menu items that we have available to eat there, and then be able to letthem have a little taste that honors the craftsmanship and flavor that we getto enjoy every time we visit.

Julischka

After the julischka atthe Waldhaus-Reese Steakhaus, Wiedehopfstrasse 17, Resser Mark. 45892Gelsenkirchen-Reese

1/4 c. slivovitz

3/4 c. kruskovec

3/4 oz. Zwack

Current paths ofinvestigation:

• Thereare only two major ingredients, so if I’m going to improve this, I have toimprove the alcohols involved, and kruskovec is the one I most want to playwith. I need one that’s thicker and clearer with the pear flavor, without goingtoo sweet. I can adjust the slivovitz to take more or less sweet out of it, butI want to start with the kruskovec as providing the next best opportunity forimprovement.
• I want to stay true to its geographic roots, and I do like the flavortouches that Zwack adds. That said, Zwack in the US is NOT what’s sold inGermany; Unicum (the REAL Zwack) is to US Zwack as a chainsaw is to a butterknife. I’m bringing home a little bit of the real thing to play with, hopingthat when I next put together a batch, I can see how this will affect theoverall flavor (probably forcing me to twitch the kruskovec up as well). Isthere another dimensionalizer out there to discover?...