(This Way to) The Egress

A riff on the Barnum with Ransom Old Tom instead of dry gin. P.T. Barnum’s American Museum in New York was a 5-story showcase of curiosities of every description. The exit was marked by a cleverly worded sign, “This way to the egress.” Not realizing that this simply meant the way out, people took the bait and assumed the egress was an exhibit, only to find they had left the museum.



(This Way to) The Egress

• 2 oz Ransom Old Tom gin
• 1/2 oz apricot brandy (Apry)
• 3/4 oz lemon juice

Shake with ice and  strain into a chilled cocktail glass.
SOURCE: ROWEN, FOGGED IN LOUNGE

Ransom’s maltiness seems very 19th-century here, combining with the lemon and apricot in a slightly floral way that reminds me of an old-style punch.

Baker Beach

I’m liking Aperol and apple brandy a lot at the moment. Apple seems to go with Ransom Old Tom too. This one seems classically San Franciscan somehow, and not just the Golden Gate orange. Maybe the combo of Italian beverage bitters and spicy gin feels sort of Beat—a friendly edge.

Baker Beach

• 2 oz Ransom Old Tom gin
• 3/4 oz Laird’s apple brandy
• 3/4 oz Aperol
• 3/4 oz lemon juice

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.
SOURCE: ROWEN, FOGGED IN LOUNGE

Plastered Punch

Like the Singapore Sling, there’s some confusion about what actually goes in a Planter’s Punch. The things I remember seeing most often are Jamaica rum, grenadine and fruit—usually orange juice. It tends to come in a collins glass and not a tiki mug. And it’s not particularly tiki-fied, though a ceramic container might help with presentation. Molasses and orange juice tend to look murky together. The grenadine helps a little—not much. (I somehow remember big, good-looking, reddish ones served in hurricane glasses at Rockefeller Center when I was a kid. No clue what they tasted like.) After some experimentation, I’ve arrived at one I like that seems roughly consistent with other Planter’s Punches I’ve had.



Plastered Punch

• 2 oz gold Jamaica rum
• 1 oz dark Jamaica rum
• 2 oz pineapple juice
• 1 oz orange juice
• 1/2 oz lime juice
• 1/4 oz grenadine
• 1 dash Angostura Bitters
• 1 dash orange bitters (Angostura)

Shake with ice and strain into a tall glass. Fresh ice to fill. Cherry, mint, straw.

OK—that there in the photo’s a sprig of basil. My mint was beyond resuscitation. Turns out basil’s actually a pretty good aroma with Jamaica rum. The combination of gold and dark rum is bright but keeps the bass note of the molasses.

For a fine study of the Planter’s Punch, drop in on Tiare at A Mountain Of Crushed Ice.

Matinee of the Gods

Not quite the twilight. More like that funny hour after the early show when you have to find a drink somewhere. Martini-Gordon-Vesper variation with aquavit.



Matinee of the Gods

• 1 1/2 oz London dry gin
• 1/2 oz aquavit
• 1/4 oz fino sherry
• 1/4 oz dry vermouth
• 1 dash orange bitters (Regans)

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Lemon twist.
SOURCE: ROWEN, FOGGED IN LOUNGE

Sort of a Martini but cozier.

Bacardi Cocktail

I’m loving Small Hand Foods Grenadine, which seems to have improved since I first bought it a while back. It’s rich, bright and flavorful, and a clear natural red. I’ve been using it like crazy to make all the classic grenadine cocktails: Jack Rose, Ward 8, Bacardi Cocktail.



Bacardi Cocktail

• 2 oz Bacardi rum
• 1/2 oz fresh lime or lemon juice
• 1/4 oz grenadine

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.
SOURCE: COMPOSITE

You gotta use Bacardi or it’s not a Bacardi Cocktail, is it? I’ve been using Bacardi 8, and sticking to the Embury 8:2:1 proportion or it turns into a lollipop. Personally, I don’t have a strong preference for lemon or lime for this.

Perfect Rob Roy

Somehow the “Perfect” Manhattan and Martini cocktails (those with both sweet and dry vermouth) always seemed like a way to spoil a sweet or dry cocktail formula that was already perfect. Why would anyone think those were good? But I’ve come to understand that you just gotta try things in the name of science. You never know.

And the Perfect Rob Roy is a revelation. Of all the old drinks I’ve tried, there are certainly older, though the PRR has the power of conjuring a past that vanished just after the beginning of my lifetime. Maybe it’s the blended scotch, the malts processed and smoothed, sort of like turning a tartan into a checked sport coat. The two vermouths complete the lounge suit effect: confusing, slightly neutralizing, wearable for every occasion.

There should always be bitters. The great gaz regan recommends Peychaud’s for the Rob Roy in general. His own Regans’ No. 6 is delicious in this as well. (I’m drinking one now.) I’m inclined to agree with him that Angostura is not particularly nice in this drink, though it’s as Mid-Century here as a midnight blue Impala.



Perfect Rob Roy

• 2 oz blended scotch (Johnnie Walker Black Label)
• 1/2 oz sweet vermouth
• 1/2 oz dry vermouth
• Peychaud’s or orange bitters, to taste

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Lemon or orange twist.
SOURCE: COMPOSITE

Sometimes you see a cherry in a Rob Roy. A very red one is bizarre at best, though a brandied one would be OK.

Paper design: Flex, Jean Orlebeke, eieio.