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.

If You Just Use The Plural — “Whiskies” — You Avoid Having To Try To Remember What’s Got An “E” And What Doesn’t

Dry County Cocktail (PDT Cocktail Book, pg. 107): rye, dry vermouth, ginger liqueur and lemon bitters (we used grapefruit bitters) — yes (sometimes the less said the better).

Kentucky Longshot (Mr. Boston, pg. 185): bourbon, ginger liqueur, peach-flavored brandy, dash Angostura and dash Peychaud’s — I keyed in on this one after Louisville put us firmly in second place in our tournament bracket. We have that DeKuyper peach shit in the cabinet and it never gets used. I was excited to try it because it smells so ridiculously treacly. I can’t believe it’s made of anything natural. I will stop my snarking to google this point. [time passes] Can’t tell. It’s such a weird flavor though, that’s for sure. Bottom line: this is a good drink, and a useful way to use up any peach-flavored brandy you might have.

Adderley Cocktail (Mr. Boston, pg. 170): rye (we used cheap bourbon; I’m sure rye would have been better), maraschino liqueur, lemon juice and orange bitters — Jen doesn’t really like maraschino and still liked this drink; the SweeTart flavor of the maraschino is low in the mix, this despite there being a ridiculous 3/4 ounce of it in there (and I say this as someone who likes maraschino — I could drink Fancy-Frees all the time).

Can Sherry Regrow Your Hair?

The Dewey D. from the PDT book (page 105) is constructed from rye, Lustau East India Sherry, Aperol and Angostura bitters. We had cream sherry, which is sort of, kind of close to the Lustau thing. Also, I picked up the wrong bottle of bitters and dumped two big dashes of orange Angostura bitters in there (it’s not even the same color). All the same, this was good.

That Magical Cedilla, How Easily It’s Erased

Long before we knew what cocktails were, or knew how to construct them in our own house, we had a bottle of curaçao. I think it was blue curaçao. Before we moved I drank it just to get rid of it. It tasted orange.

I only realized tonight that the very strange thing is how idiotic we once were about cocktails. Jen said it was because we were young and had stupid money to spend on cocktails in actual places, but that doesn’t make sense to me: we knew literally fucking nothing about drinking cocktails, and looking back, it’s unclear we ever drank cocktails at home. What the fuck? And I’m talking, like, 2009 or 2010 or something, not like 1976.

Part of doing cocktails at home is to subvert the mixologistic paradigm of the “lounge”; it’s ridiculous to pay 12, 15, 18 dollars for one lousy drink. The other part is to understand what you don’t actually know; there’s nothing artistic about mixing one ounce, one ounce, one ounce of this or that. That shouldn’t require a premium. Some of this other shit you encounter is different: house-tinctured tinctures mixed in single batches is labor intensive; of course I’ll bite. Which is to say, mixing your own drinks makes you a better consumer. Embrace it. “Now go start your own cocktail lounge.”

Jen was tasked with drink research, in preparation for doing our taxes. She found the Honeymoon Cocktail in the PDT book (page 143). It was good, if lemony. The base was apple brandy (Applejack), followed by equal parts orange curaçao, Bénédictine and lemon juice. It’s a vintage recipe, from 1916. We used some off brand Grand Marnier knockoff instead of curaçao.