Ginning Up A Post

So the thing about gin is — and this is probably just me, and I’m sure it’s just me — that it’s kind of a weirdly uninspiring spirit. OK, I said it. I invite the one-and-a-half people who read this to challenge me, tell me what I’m missing or what I’m doing incorrectly. But the more I drink cocktails — and the more I notice what I’m drinking — the more I realize that I avoid gin.

Gin is OK, don’t get me wrong. I like a gin martini before dinner — but only one! — but it seems like something that gets covered up more than it gets highlighted. I do have some gin drinks I like: the mastic liqueur one and a Negroni both come to mind. But I don’t sit there and sip gin — I’m guessing no one does. [Googling: OK, some do, but I’m unconvinced; I also see that it’s classified as a neutral spirit, so OK, I can kind of trust my intuition sometimes.]

The first gin drink comes from Robert Hess’ The Essential Bartender’s Guide: How to Create Truly Great Cocktails. It’s the Caprice (page 137): an appropriate balance (3:1:1) of gin, dry vermouth and Bénédictine with a dash of orange bitters. It was OK.

The second gin drink comes from Mr. Boston was the Leapyear: basically the same proportions as above (4:1:1) but with more gin, then sweet vermouth, Grand Marnier (we substituted that Domanier Cognac A l’Orange for that) with a dash of orange bitters. The Leapyear was OK, too. I was sitting there thinking something along the lines of, “This would be good for people who really like gin because it lets that floral shizz through but adds a little flavor.” But then you’re like, “Who the fuck really wants to taste gin?”

And don’t even get me started on vodka cocktails; as far as I’m concerned they don’t really exist. Which probably means we should try making more of them.

Two Versions Of The Same, Neither Of Them Done Exactly Right

The Deshler (PDT, page 105) is a drink that I’ve had twice tonight, neither time made how it’s apparently intended. It calls for [conjuring ye olde tymey time form of transmitting proportions in cocktail recipes] six parts rye, four parts Dubonnet (which I bought a bottle of today) and one part Cointreau, with two dashes of Peychaud’s.

I don’t have Cointreau. But Goober googled it and ran upstairs and got some triple sec, which Cointreau is?. So we used that the first time. Lo, this is one nice tasting cocktail! Without looking at the ingredients (or without looking at them too closely), Goober correctly guessed that it was a variation on a Manhattan, which the note says it is. To me, this tasted more complete and cocktail-y than a Manhattan; as strange as that sounds, my impression of Manhattans is that they’re rye with an added subtle flavor of some sort. Which, don’t get me wrong, I really, really like, but is usually just kind of boozy tasting.

After Jen got home late from work we made another cocktail, and it wasn’t until I poured a couple of ingredients that I realized that Goober’s triple sec was locked away upstairs. We figured our bottle of Domanier Cognac A l’Orange would be, uh, orange tasting. It’s a Grand Marnier knockoff, I think. We did that. Not the same but still decently cocktail-like.

Hello, Cocktail!

The Junior (PDT cocktail book, page 154) is a nice drink: rye, lime juice, Bénédictine and Angostura bitters. The amount of lime juice — 3/4 ounce — is a lot but as the note in the book says, it’s a “sophisticated sour.” Jen likes puckery cocktails, and she immediately took to it.

Remember The Remember The Maine

So after running out of rye and not making rye cocktails — or more accurately, not making them correctly (i.e., using bourbon instead, which sits around the house in giant 1.75L plastic bottles) — it had been a while since we had a Remember the Maine. The last time I’m sure we omitted the lemon twist. Lately I’ve been thinking more about not overlooking those garnishes. In this case, it makes a difference.

Nothing Says “Tequila Cocktail” Like The Name Of A Major Mexican City

The Guadalajara, made with tequila, dry vermouth and Bénédictine, is a nice little drink (Mr. Boston, page 137). From our tasting panel: “flavors hard to place” and “it’s good.” The recipe calls for a lemon twist, which I think would actually benefit the drink — we nearly always omit twists and such because just no.

Guadalajara, the second largest city in Mexico, includes St. Louis as one of its sister cities, along with Albuquerque, Cleveland, Downey (California, in Los Angeles County), Kansas City, Lansing, Portland (Oregon), San Antonio and San Jose (California) (and also San José, Costa Rica).

I don’t know why tequila cocktails have all this cheesy Mexican imagery attached to them. Thinking about why the name “Guadalajara,” I sort of see it like calling your fantastic bourbon creation a “Paducah.” Harrumph. Then again, maybe they should do this more . . .