Air Mail

In a different era in my boozing, in another incarnation of this town, I used to spend my time in the grand old rooms of San Francisco, remote roosts attainable only by cable car, staircase or Air Mail.



Air Mail

• 1 1/2 oz gold rum
• 3/4 oz lime juice
• 1 tsp honey
• Champagne

Dissolve the honey in the lime juice. Add rum and shake with ice. Strain into a chilled flute or tulip glass. Fill with Champagne.
SOURCE: COCKTAILDB

Puerto Rican rum would be the usual thing here, though I made this one with 10 Cane with fine results. For the honey, I used lemon blossom, which went nicely with the rum.

Tamil Nadu Cocktail

My housemate has headed off to an Indian dinner with an old friend. I’m babysitting the dog and playing in the bar. (The canid is a little impatient and grumpy.) I have a drawer full of citrus, and the Mandarine Napoléon is already at hand from the previous cocktail. I’ve mixed two versions of this, one with the addition of gin, one without. Still deciding.



Tamil Nadu Cocktail

• 2 oz North Shore aquavit (variation: 50 percent Tanqueray)
• 1/2 oz Domaine de Canton
• 1/2 oz Mandarine Napoléon
• 1/2 oz lime juice

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

North Shore aquavit has a cumin note that is incomparable in every sense of the word. It is perfect in Red Snappers (a.k.a. Bloody Marys) and in Indian-themed cocktails such as this one.

The gin version of this drink is lighter. The pure North Shore one is more intense.

Peach Bitters for Happy Days

When I bought peach bitters, I was excited on account of a vague idea that they were used in drink recipes of some bygone era when they really knew what a drink was. It’s not clear now at what point I started wondering what to do with them, but they were really exciting all the same. Eventually it occurred to me that maybe there was a recipe that called for peach bitters—a recipe I could use them in. Maybe I might look for one that sounded good, and even enjoy tasting it.

The recipe for Happy Days in the CocktailDB appears with a note that it was invented by E.L. Horton. OK, I said, I’ll bite. So I looked up old E.L. too, and found the recipe for Happy Days on page 93 of The Café Royal Cocktail Book. This still told me nothing about Horton except that he was probably an English bartender working between the wars. Beyond that, the scent seemed to be totally cold. Maybe he could’ve been something awful, like an axe murderer, but it doesn’t seem too likely since he invented such a swell cocktail. (He could’ve poisoned you instead.) It also has tangerine liqueur, and I was hunting around for something else to do with that too.



Happy Days

• 1 1/4 oz London dry gin
• 1 oz Lillet (Cocchi Americano)
• 1/2 oz Van der Hum (Mandarine Napoléon)
• 1/4 oz lemon juice
• 1 dash peach bitters

The recipe says to shake. I stirred. (Sorry, E.L.) Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.
SOURCE: COCKTAILDB AND THE CAFÉ ROYAL COCKTAIL BOOK, RECIPE BY E.L. HORTON

This is nicely balanced: lightly sweet and fruity without being cloying, and you can detect both the gin and the peach. Sort reminiscent of the Barnum but milder. If anybody has more info about Horton, let me know.

The Smoking Banana

It’s been a while since I last went crazy and made a mess of the place Tiki-style. This one is a little Mexican in feeling from a dose of mezcal, which brings out a subtle plantain note in the banana. I used Demerara rum but you could probably substitute something like a gold Jamaica.



The Smoking Banana

• 1 1/2 oz Demerara rum
• 1/2 oz mezcal
• 1/4 oz pimento dram
• 3 oz pineapple juice
• 1/2 oz vanilla syrup
• 1/2 ripe banana

Blend with a cup of crushed ice on high for 30 seconds. Serve in a large glass or mug.
SOURCE: ROWEN, FOGGED IN LOUNGE

Laphroaig Rob Roy

The first Rob Roy I tasted was made by a bartender who had no idea what it was supposed to be like. I was served a weird, wimpy drink so vile that it took years to get over before trying another. (And that was lousy too.) Light blended scotch drowned in a sea of melting bar ice and thin, nasty vermouth, no bitters. You want a cherry with that? How about one of them little plastic stir jobbies?

For a cocktail as simple as this one, the base spirit should have enough guts to define the drink, and from the moment I saw gaz regan do the Laphroaig Rob Roy, I knew I had to have one. It just sounded right. There was smoke and velvet, anise and iodine. A wild, regal, intense Rob Roy that might wield the bagpipes as a deadly weapon. Aye.



Laphroaig Rob Roy

• 2 oz Laphroaig 10 Year Old
• 1 1/2 oz sweet vermouth
• 4 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. I serve this with a broad, thin, rough-edged orange twist (sharp vegetable peeler), and express the oil lavishly over the drink. For the vermouth, I like Punt e Mes, though lately I’ve been doing it with Dolin.
SOURCE: ADAPTED FROM A RECIPE BY GAZ REGAN

For a kickass post on the same drink, visit The Sugar House Blog.

You can also see gaz himself in action on YouTube.

Elevator Operator

The inspiration for this cocktail comes from a great bottle of handmade ouzo from my friend Debbie. It had been sitting in my bottom drawer at work with another Greek-themed liqueur, Persephonia (guess what flavor), waiting for an evening when I didn’t have to lug something else home too. Now that her package has arrived safely at the Lounge, it seems a pity not to have brought it back sooner. Both spirits are soft, graceful, complex. I particularly like the vanilla note that emerges on the finish of the ouzo.



Elevator Operator

• 1 1/2 oz gin (Junípero)
• 3/4 oz dry vermouth (Dolin)
• 1/4 oz ouzo
• 1 dash orange bitters (Fee Bros)

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

The housemate opined that this is Martini-like but richer, which it is. The slight haze from the louching of the ouzo reminds me of antique silver.

Very warm thanks to Debbie for her amazing booze. Now I get to come up with a cocktail for the other bottle of stuff.

Gibson with Scrappy’s Celery Bitters

A fun product appeared in one of my favorite package stores: Scrappy’s Bitters. I was intrigued by the celery one, as I had been playing with the idea of making a batch of my own. The retail price at my downtown place was decidedly steep at $17.99—you can get a decent 750-ml bottle of spirits for that kind of money. But they must’ve figured cocktail nerds like me would buy it, and of course I did. Shucks—I’m just a fool for celery.

The odd thing about celery bitters is that it had been a defunct product used in cocktails of a bygone era, and we don’t know much about it or how it was used, but cocktailians today are eager to revive it. It just sounds like such a cool idea for savory and dry cocktails.

For my first Scrappy’s experiment, I went with one of my favorite Martini variations, the Gibson. The way Aunt Mary made one, the Gibson had no bitters, but I don’t think she would’ve objected to a hint of celery. She liked her vegetables.



Gibson with Celery Bitters

• 2 oz gin
• 1/4 oz dry vermouth
• 1 dash celery bitters

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Pickled onion.
SOURCE: COMPOSITE

One dash is enough. It’s nice stuff with good celery seed flavor but two dashes and a very dry cocktail like the Gibson starts to lose focus. The celery is best here as a subtle, dry, green note on the finish. Scrappy’s is more to my taste than the Bitter Truth Celery Bitters, which is very different in character—more like lemon verbena perhaps, and too pervasive for my taste.

Special thanks to my friends Flynn and Richard for their awesome pickled onions. I took them from a jar of pickled green beans they gave me. I hope to use one of the beans in a Bloody Mary post with the celery bitters if I can stop myself from eating them all.