Almond Syrup, Too

When we last left it, I said I wanted to try the Trinidad Sour, which is three parts rye, one part Fernet Branca, one part lemon juice and one part orgeat (or whatever you’re using). This is good — the Fernet Branca is medicinal but you get used to it, which I know doesn’t sound appetizing, but in the end/by the end, it’s a nice cocktail.

When You’re Keyed In, It’s Less “Bar Guide” Than “Barguide”

The only — only — reason I haven’t pulled out Stan Jones’ Jones’ Complete Barguide before now is because it’s huge, and we have books stacked on top of each other in terribly inconvenient contortions, and so it’s been on the bottom of that stack.

That’s a mistake because it’s encyclopedic and incredibly useful. I like in particular the index that links individual ingredients to recipes. It’s less useful for “whiskey” but it’s very good for more obscure items: stuff like Fernet-Branca and Dubonnet. I haven’t delved too deeply into the first 200 pages (!) of single-space detail about all manner of drinkology, but it’s a great resource. Apparently the thing is out of print. The price tag on our copy is “$3.00.” I haven’t asked where it came from.

So I took advantage of that index to look up something to make with Fernet-Branca, and settled on a Fanciulli: Four parts bourbon, two parts sweet vermouth and one part Fernet-Branca. I did not make it “frappe style” in a “snow cone” type of built cocktail. It was a little Fernet-Brancatious, pretty bitter. I would try cutting the Fernet-Branca in half, just to try it.

[Googling]

Honestly, it’s a shame this thing is out of print; it’s really good. Strange in parts: unless I’m misreading what “variations” are, it appears like the two variations of some drinks are different in every way. And the layout is awesome: it’s like a 1970s dissertation. Love it.

Mint-Based Cocktails

Jen felt like a cocktail with mint, which we had in the fridge, so I googled it, looked no further than the first two results, and found basically the same kind of recipes you’d imagine people make with mint: julep, mojito, that which is tiki-inspired. This link led to this Pimm’s-based cocktail, something with Pimm’s, Fernet-Branca, ginger ale, lemon, mint and cucumbers (I’ve not yet broached the cucumber realm at home; not sure I ever will). I hate topping things off with ginger ale or club soda or anything else because it seems impure. Also, we don’t have any Pimm’s. And then there’s the cucumber thing. So here’s what I made:

2 ounces gin
.5 ounce lemon juce
.5 ounce simple syrup
.25 ounce Fernet-Branca
mint (like 4-6 big leaves)

I muddled the mint and combined the rest in an ice-filled shaker. Serve.

This was good; I’d make it again.

This Wonderful Little Cocktail/Microaggression Against Catholics

You might know “hanky panky” as some kind of fuddy-duddy phrase last heard on Benny Hill or something starring Richard Dawson, god rest his soul. Well, it’s also a cocktail. (Interestingly, there’s a short link between “hanky panky” and some old-school anti-Catholic sentiment in England; in essence it goes some shit in Latin mass to “hocus pocus” to “hanky panky.”)

The apocryphal story goes that some old British actor, looking for a cocktail with some “punch,” whatever that means, found this and called it “the real hanky-panky,” which isn’t really connected at all to the original trickeration connotation or the modern sexcentric meaning. I guess it’s like calling something “the shit,” or even [trying to come up with a phrase like “the shit” but being too inartful in googling it then getting stuck in an eddy of Urban Dictionary so we’ll leave this as a truly inartful placeholder until something comes to mind].

So anyway, the Hanky Panky, which I discovered in the PDT book (page 138) but which is jacked from Harry Craddock’s The Savoy Cocktail Book, goes like this: 8 parts gin, 6 parts sweet vermouth and 1 part Fernet-Branca. I wish I could remember what it tasted like but that was too long ago now.

Duboudreau, Too

Earlier, I wrote that The Duboudreau Cocktail (PDT, page 110), that which is eight parts rye, three parts Dubonnet Rouge, one part Fernet-Branca and one part Elderflower liqueur. We didn’t have Fernet-Branca before, mostly because it’s expensive, but when I went to the store today it was so high up on the shelf and the font on the price tag so small that I went for it. I think it sold for $30 something. I remember reading that people absolutely hate it on its own. It smells pretty intense; I never drink these on their own because I never do. There’s a quote in this piece on five Fernet-Branca cocktails that calls it “mouthwash with delusions of grandeur.”

Anyway, last time we substituted Cynar for it, which was good. This was also very good, although it tastes a little fucked up at first — at least to the point where Jen was like, “What is this, it’s weird.”