Absinthe Revival on the way

I remember the first time I had absinthe very clearly. Wait, let me correct that. The first time I remember having absinthe is very clear:

Sitting in a bar in South Africa a large bartender with dreadlocks responded to my query for a good strong cocktail with "I'll make you my personal invention, a flaming goblin." He then proceeded to pour a shot of absinthe and a few dashes of a dark but aromatic high proof liqueur into a shot glass, light it on fire and toss it back - just to show me how it worked. Four or five hours and twice as many Flaming Goblins later, I had a new favorite bar in Jo'Burg.

A few years ago, when the laws in the US changed to make absinthe legal again (see this comprehensive Salon article), I investigated getting a bottle. But with prices what they are, I have no desire to buy a 60$ bottle lacking thujone.

In the end though, I think good absinthe is on the way soon. This week France finally lifted the last part of the 100 year ban and allowed Absinthe to be called Absinthe again. A dash of absinthe figures prominently in many historical cocktails, and for good reason. While a cup (even properly prepared) of absinthe can be difficult to approach, the depth and finish it can add to a carefully crafted cocktail is invaluable.


Redface Tip:
Check your local liquor store - I've only ever found this in one particular store in NJ - but if you are lucky enough it might be locally available. I know I pay $22-$24 for it.

Also, check out FKR's article on the Return of the Green Fairy

Satanic Cocktails - Demon of Destiny

A vortex of taste greets your pallet - the scent is undefined, but crisp and fiesty. You get a feeling like there is someone waiting behind you, or is that just the hair on the back of your neck standing up as your tongue goes numb with the next sip?

The effervescent cocktail before you beckons you with riches, it's golden shade mocking your impoverished soul, daring you to dream of the riches your hellish desires contain.

You may have just been shown your demonic destiny.

Demon of Destiny
1.5 oz. Gin
.75 oz Sweet Vermouth
.5 oz Absinthe
.25 oz Tequila
.25 oz Agave Syrup

Add all ingredients into a shaker half full with ice. Shake like you want the minions of hell to break out of their fiery (icy) tombs. Double strain to remove all of the small ice chunks - you want this cocktail to glisten. Let the demonic struggle begin as the tequila, absinthe, agave, and gin all fight tooth and horn to be the last taste left in your mouth.

Progenitor: Destiny Cocktail

Inaptly Judging a Drink - Color

In my opinion, too many drinks are judged by one of these three things, when they should be judged by their taste, liquor content, and history.

Color

Glassware

Name

I'll tackle color first - once you've made a few different types of cocktails, you start to recognize the colors and textures of different types - the telltale creaminess of a drink with egg whites, the (surprising) rosé of a whiskey cocktail, the silky-clear top to a gin drink. If you drink Manhattans often, you might have already had this conversation before:

You walk into the room or across the bar with a nice Manhattan in a cocktail glass
"Whatcha got there, girlie-man?"
"A Manhattan."
"What's in it? Unicorn tears and heartstrings, why not drink a real drink?"
"Whiskey. Vermouth. Bitters. A few of your teeth soon."

The problem is, even with the recent renaissance in the cocktail world, few people even know the history of the word cocktail, let alone the storied past of drinks ranging from the Pink Lady to the Papa Dobles. Here in America, the birthplace of the cocktail, a drink that isn't clear or silty brown comes with the presumption of feeble drinking abilities.

Now, sometimes it is appropriate to judge - or at least assess - a cocktail based on its color. However, you should first verify your suspicions by a hearty taste, and perhaps a request for a trial cocktail on the house. Once you know for sure that the yellow-green-neon concoction with a parasol and a fruit bouquet is indeed dreck, then go ahead and assume all the matching drinks on the premises are of similar quality.

All of this goes to the point that while a Duchess might look girly, it's 1/3 absinthe, and the other 2/3 vermouth, so back off you dolt.

The Fiery Dog

Inspired by a recipe I came across on CocktailDB while looking for variations on a Manhattan to try, the Fiery Dog is a complex and powerful cocktail.  With its odd set of ingredients, I doubt you'll be trying it out anytime soon unless you come on out to NY to visit your friendly Redface.

The Fiery Dog
1 oz White Dog Whiskey
1 oz Italian Sweet Vermouth
1/2 oz Absinthe
1/2 oz Benedectine
1 Dash Peychaud's Bitters


Shake and strain into a rocks glass.  Please don't put any White Dog in a cocktail glass. 

I've been trying to figure out Benedictine for a few months now, and this is the first time I've been able to add it to a cocktail and not have to choke it down.  Every ingredient has quite a powerful taste, which leads to a shifting feel in your mouth and down your throat as you drink a Fiery Dog.  The 62% White Dog makes itself known, but is unable to overpower the other ingredients.

Enjoy!

You Always Thought You Were Smarter For Loving Booze.... Now You Know

The beauty in this new report on "Why Intelligent People Drink More Alcohol" is that it defines things so methodically that I couldn't find a single hole in the logic in two full reads (one sober as a monk at matins, the other a few degrees in).  Evolutionarily speaking, smarter individuals try new things - and alcohol is new.

I love it!  Plus, that zinger that finished off the third paragraph had me laughing my ass off.

The final paragraph also had a tidbit of sense that I find refreshing: 

That such behavior [binge drinking and getting druuunk] is detrimental to health and has few, if any, positive consequences, is irrelevant for the Hypothesis.  [The hypothesis] does not predict that more intelligent individuals are more likely to engage in healthy and beneficial behavior.  Instead, it predicts that more intelligent individuals are more likely to engage in evolutionarily novel behavior.  

 Intelligent people are not, ceteris paribus, more likely to make good (healthy, moral, salacious) decisions, they are just more apt to do novel evolutionary things.  Brilliant!  This means I can still plausibly claim to be intelligent while also explaining why I am ombibulous and spent the whole day Sunday feeling like crap.

The Duchess

Simple cocktail recipes always make me happy.  There's something rewarding about mixing a cocktail with even proportions, simple combinations, or easily accessible ingredients.  Well, the recipe I have in mind today fits two of those three - absinthe is still not quite as accessible as most liquors. 

You might remember the Duchess Cocktail from A Night of Vermouths.  The Duchess was a pleasant surprise, and one that has set me down a whole different path in cocktails since then.  There's something snooty about vermouth to me.  Maybe it's the fact that Jungle Juice was about the flavor complexity available in college before the Slickheel Saloon opened up.

Either way, the Duchess is a perfect example of a simple cocktail that uses the flavors of strong ingredients to craft a unique taste.

The Duchess
1/3 Sweet Vermouth
1/3 Dry Vermouth
1/3 Absinthe

Last time I said give it a light shake, this time I'll advocate stirring it.  It won't make too much difference, so do it however you'd like.  Now after a few of these, I decided the flavors were a little too touchy - one of the ones I made had a little too much anise aftertaste, one had too much dryness.  So to remedy both, I decided to add (what else?) some bitters.  My call was Peychaud's bitters, as it darkened the drink a little (I was having a little trouble with the color being a sickly mix of green absinthe and sweet vermouth, so some peychauds darkened it up). 

Gan Bei!