Making Amends with Yukon Jack

by Paul Zablocki

I came home from work Monday night feeling pretty crappy; a cold had invaded my body, and I knew that I would be a teetotaler for the week. Steve doesn’t much like to have a cocktail by himself, but he thought that Monday night would be a good night for a hot toddy. A mid-fall chill kissed the air, and he was up for a comforting mug of hot whiskey. So, he walked over to the bar (I was in the kitchen boiling the water for his toddy and my tea) as we chatted about this and that, and, not really focusing on the task at hand, reached for a bottle with “Jack” festooned across the label. He proceeded to make his toddy: two ounces of whiskey, a teaspoon of sugar, and 3 ounces of hot water. Simple. Comforting. Old school.

Hot Toddy
(adapted by Steve Schul)

2 oz. your favorite whiskey
1 tsp. sugar
3 oz. hot water.

In a mug, add the whiskey, sugar, and water. Give it a stir. Enjoy curled up on the sofa with a loved one. (Make sure your loved one has a hot toddy as well.)

Usually the kitchen becomes redolent with the sweet caramel-burnished scent of bourbon once the hot water hits the whiskey-shot mug, but this time I smelled oranges. Steve put the mug ever-so-gently to his lips, blew a little to cool it down, and took the first sip, the one that is supposed to satisfy your expectations for wanting the drink in the first place. This time not a smile, but a wince, followed by a grimace, followed by “What the hell is this?” Ladies and gentlemen, I must take a moment to step outside the tale and proffer some friendly advice. Concentrate while making your cocktail, drink, potion, whatever. You don’t want the wrong spirit gumming up the works. For you see, Steve, thinking he had grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s 7-year Tennessee whiskey, actually pulled a bottle of Yukon Jack off the shelf. For those of you who know the power of Yukon Jack, I’m sure you’re wincing along with Steve. For those of you unfamiliar with this spirit, let’s just start by saying that Yukon Jack calls itself “The Black Sheep of Canadian Liquors” on its label. Imported from Canada, Yukon Jack is a honey-colored liqueur that, upon unscrewing the cap, releases a sweet blast of baby-aspirin orange. Some may find this appealing. I, however, do not, for as a child riddled with fever, I loathed having to chew up four Johnson’s baby aspirins in order to abate my ague. (Once, I even dropped one to the floor thinking it would be forever lost in the shag carpet, only to be confounded by my father who later discovered it and brought it to my attention before my mom had a chance to vacuum.) Getting back to the tale, we tried to fix the mistake toddy by adding some Irish whiskey, but that didn’t help much. The drink ended up down the drain. Always a sad moment in the Cocktail Buzz Kitchen.

You’re probably asking yourself why we have a bottle of Yukon Jack in the house. Well, in full disclosure, I bought it on a whim one night while eying the shelves at Warehouse Liquors near NYU and thought I would give it a try. I do love to take a stab at creating cocktails out of misfit spirits and liqueurs. And also I read the product statement on the back of the bottle: “Yukon Jack^® is a taste born of hoary nights, when lonely men struggled to keep their fires lit and cabins warm. Boldly flavorful, yet surprisingly smooth, there is no spirit like Yukon Jack^®.” Hot. The thoughts of cowboys hanging out around a campfire, trying to keep warm while keeping each other company, was enough to make me whip out the credit card when the man at the register yelled, “Next!”

Now home, I had the bottle in my eager hands. Reading once again the label’s incantational pro–male-bonding words, I had a Brokeback Mountain moment, and thought fondly of Jake and Heath, in movie-lovers’ embrace, drinking whiskey from the same flask in the frosty Wyoming mountains. Smiling, I unscrewed the cap and took a whiff. Egad, what the hell is this? Turns out, Yukon Jack is not a real whiskey at all, but a 100-proof honey-based liqueur that is born in Valleyfield, Quebec, and makes is way into the U.S. by way of Hartford, Conn., where its bottled and then distributed.

Put off by the aroma, but inspired by life on the range, I decided to give it a go. What the hell, why not. Maybe something good can come out of all this sweet orangy syrup. Well, here goes. My thought was that whiskey was indeed needed to mix with the Yukon Jack, so why not use one of our favorite Jacks, Mr. Daniels. I knew that, based on the other ingredients I would add to the mix, these two spirits had to balance each other so as not to taste like grain alcohol laced with Kool-Aid. The first thing I thought of, to combat the sweetness of the Yukon Jack, was the bitter-orange brightness of Campari. The acidity in fresh orange juice would also cut through the alcoholic sugariness of the Canadian liqueur, so I added some of that, along with a dash of orange bitters, which would add another layer of what the Québécois would say je ne sais quoi. I then shook it all up in ice, strained it into a cocktail glass, and added a lemon twist. Voila! A sip revealed promise. So I quickly adjusted ratios and came up with a drink I was pleased with. I tried it on the rocks to see if I liked it more, and called Steve over to give it a try. Dangit, it was dee-lightful. You could taste the citrusy goodness that is inherent in the Yukon Jack, but when married with the tangy orange juice and bitter Campari, mellowed by the charred-maple sweetness of the Jack Daniels, a real cocktail emerged. We liked it better on-the-rocks, but I suppose it all depends on how chilly the evening is, cowboy. If you do drink it up, make sure you let the ice dissolve a little bit before you give it a vigorous shake. The water will help dilute the sweetness.

But what to dub it? A no-brainer, really. It uses both Yukon Jack and Jack Daniels, why not call it Jack and Jack, a sort of play on Jack and Coke.

Jack and Jack
(created by Paul Zablocki)

1 1/2 oz. Yukon Jack
1 oz. Jack Daniels
1 oz. fresh orange juice
3/4 oz. Campari
dash orange bitters

Shake in ice for 15 seconds. Strain into a ice-filled rocks glass. Garnish with an orange or lemon twist, if led.

Upon further rumination, I liked the name even more. Jack and Jack is also a play on Jack and Jill, and thinking about the two Jacks running up the hill to fetch a pail of water, or driving a herd of sheep, I was content with the notion of bringing a little gaiety to our list of house-made cocktails. What the conservatives would call “spreading my agenda.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, our tale brings us to Connecticut, the land of Lucy and Ricky in the later seasons, where the rich park their carcasses after working long hours in Manhattan skyscrapers, where marriage between two men or two women is legal. An enlightened place, if you will. (Shame on you Maine for your bigotry. May you come to your senses, along with California and the rest of those other states in this great land, and realize that marriage is for all.) So we brought the recipe for Jack and Jack with us in our heads to the cozy town of Wolcott where my cousin Matthew and his lovely fiancée Kelly were to tie the knot by an idyllic pond. “Can you tell the bartender what kind of cocktail to make for us?” pled the newly wed Matthew, Kelly holding his hand, practically jitterbugging with her husband, both beaming in both connubial bliss and the expectation of a yummy cocktail. “I've got just the thing,” I promised them. So I sidled up to the bar and gave the man behind the stick the recipe for the Jack and Jack. “On the rocks.” It was a muggy June night and the ice would soothe the sultriness. They took a few sips and their eyes lit up more. “Thank you so much!” they cooed as a gaggle of bridesmaids whisked them off to the dance floor. Steve and I would join them anon. There’s nothing better than cutting a rug with the one you love at a wedding.


Sidebar:
At 50% alcohol, Yukon Jack will get you buzzed. This guy seems to love his Yukon Jack with his camping family. And this guy gets quite a jolt from swiggin’ some Yukon Jack (another camper . . . hmm). This young Canadian guy can’t seem to keep his shirt on, he loves his Yukon Jack so much.

Grilled Cheese as Proustian Madeleine: A Late Supper Rhapsody

by Paul Zablocki

Steve and I are like the Spanish: We eat supper late—sometimes as late as 10:30PM. There are several reasons involved in our delayed prandial fulfillment. (1) We usually don’t walk through the door until most Americans have already eaten their grub and parked themselves in front of the boob tube (we’re smart: we combine these two pastimes). (2) We usually like to chat about our days while enjoying a cocktail, and perhaps a little nosh. (Sometimes we split a cocktail. This is known as a “splitty.” You can apply this catchword to anything bibulous that is split between two people, viz. a Manhattan, a muffin, a Carnegie Deli tower-of-pastrami sandwich.) (3) We like to cook, so when ordering in sounds unappealing, we scour the cupboards, freezer, and fridge for inspiration.

Last night inspiration seemed to ooze from the cupboards and fridge. (The freezer is usually a not-so-friendly appliance at 9:30PM. It takes a long time to thaw a pork loin.) After a Black Hawk Cocktail—a slightly tart simple drink made with bourbon, slow gin, and lemon juice—we experimented with some more whiskey, namely Jack Daniels, to come up with a drink for my friend Bruce who came up with a great name for a drink: The Preening Ass. I recently had an authentic Mexican dinner with Bruce, and told him about the joys of Catdaddy Carolina Moonshine. Bruce is mainly a wine drinker, but the idea of sweet, custard-tasting Catdaddy really appealed to him, and since Bruce works in advertising, he’s always bouncing around names and phrases to catch one’s attention; ergo, The Preening Ass.

So last night, Steve and I set out to make a Preening Ass. But what makes an ass an ass? A buck has ginger ale, a mule ginger beer. Well, an ass is sort of like one of these animals, so it should have something fizzy, no? We decided lemon soda would fit the bill for no other reason than it sounded posh, and a preening ass would definitely want something posh in his drink. There was some limonata (lemon soda) in the mini fridge, so we were in luck. But Catdaddy Carolina Moonshine sounds anything but posh. Were we barking up the wrong tree? Hells no! The fact that our ass is preening shows you that, in a Psych 101 context, he’s hiding something. Maybe he grew up in the Deep South and on his entrance to Princeton University he wanted to hide his provenance. So he started to preen and primp, lost his dialect, and whammo, he became the Preening Ass. Tennessee borders North Carolina (the state of Catdaddy’s origin), so adding Jack Daniels Tennessee whiskey seemed appropriate. Finding the right ratio was pretty simple. Add some ice, give a little stir, and sip. Not bad for a fit of inspiration. (Let it be known that we are in no way disparaging the Deep South or Princeton University. We like them both.)

Black Hawk
(from CocktailDB.com)
1 1/4 oz. bourbon (we used Virginia Gentleman)
1 1/4 oz. sloe gin (we used Plymouth)
1/2 oz. lemon juice
cherry, as garnish (we soaked maraschino cherries in bourbon and cognac after dumping out the bright red juice)

Shake in ice for 15 seconds and strain into a chilled coupe of cocktail glass. Add cherry.

Preening Ass
(created by Steve Schul and Paul Zablocki)
1 oz. Jack Daniels
3/4 oz. Catdaddy
3 1/2 oz. limonata (we used San Pellegrino)

Fill double rocks or highball glass with ice. Add the Jack Daniels and Catdaddy. Stir to chill. Top with limonata. Give another quick stir.

So now that the drinking portion of the evening made us happy, we decided it was high time to move on to a proper meal. It was already 9:30 and nothing was thawed. Usually when this happens we get on the phone and order some pizza or Mexican. But we were in the mood for something home-cooked and comforting . . . that reminded us of chilly nights growing up when Mom knew just the right thing to make our tummies happy. A tostada smothered in shredded iceberg wasn’t going to do it (and besides, we had one the night before). Quickly we scoured the kitchen: some leftover ciabatta about to go stale was hanging out on the counter in an anonymous paper bag. We then opened the fridge hoping for something tasty: sharp cheddar in the cheese drawer, some leftover canned tomatoes (can you already figure where I’m going with this?), some prewashed baby greens Steve picked up from the grocery store, radishes, lots of butter, a little heavy cream. I then reached for the new nonstick frying pan that Steve’s mom got him for his birthday this month, as well as a sauce pan, and we started making a mini feast: grilled cheese, tomato soup, and a side salad. The perfect late-night supper. Actually, the best supper of all time. And it’s [gasp] vegetarian. Like a Proustian madeleine, memories of eating simple, nourishing food with our families flooded us as we supped to images of the Atlanta Housewives reunion on the tube.

Grilled Cheese Sandwiches
day-old (or 2-day-old) ciabatta, sliced 1/3-in. thick
2 T. unsalted butter
sharp cheddar, sliced very thinly
salt and pepper, to taste

In a frying pan, melt the butter over medium-low heat, careful not to burn it. Lay the cheese between two slices of bread and place in the pan. Turn the heat up to medium and sprinkle with salt and pepper. If you have a grill press, lay it atop the sandwich. If not, give the sandwich a good press with a spatula. Grill for about 3 minutes, checking the bottom with the spatula to see if it’s golden brown. Flip and grill for another 2 minutes. Add more butter if necessary. Plate and slice in half, if you so desire.

Tomato Soup
8 oz. whole tomatoes from a can
1 T. heavy cream
1/4 cup water
salt, pepper, and hot paprika (or cayenne), to taste
leftover ciabatta, cut into cubes or ripped into pieces

Heat tomatoes in a saucepan. When the liquid starts to bubble, use an immersion blender to whip them up. (If you do not have an immersion blender, you can use a countertop blender before you heat up the tomatoes.) Add cream, water, and spices, and heat for a few minutes while stirring occasionally. With any leftover ciabatta, toss pieces into the frying pan with the butter you used for the grilled cheese. Let the pieces soak up the butter and flip when they become golden brown. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and hot paprika and remove from heat. Garnish soup.

October Is the Coolest Month

For those of you who live in temperate climes, we are deep in the throes of fall and what better way to enjoy the chill in the air than with a cocktail or two. And so far, October has proved to be a harbinger of good things to come in the very near future, so if you need to continue to three or four cocktails, we won’t stop you (unless of course you are trying to get behind the wheels of a motor vehicle).

At the Manhattan Cocktail Classic Gala, New York Public Library.
(photo by Gabi Porter).

1. The Manhattan Cocktail Classic Preview grand gala on October 4 was held at the New York Public Library. Eleven makeshift bars in various locations in the main lobby, halls, and mezzanine touted specific liquors (such as Tanqueray, Don Julio, and Hendrick’s) and boasted some of New York’s most creative men and women behind the stick. According to the Web site:

“Thee Manhattan Cocktail Classic is New York City’s first ever multi-day event celebrating the history, contemporary culture, and artful craft of the cocktail. Part festival, part fête, part conference, part cocktail party, the Manhattan Cocktail Classic brings together the unparalleled talents and opportunities of the bars, bartenders, and restaurants of our great city for five days of activities, both educational and celebratory in nature, championing the common ideals of authenticity, equality, sustainability, service, and pleasure. (There will be some drinking involved, too.)”

We were invited by PR superwoman, Hanna Lee (a vision in a red cocktail dress) who, along with an advisory board of cocktail luminaries, a smattering of New York city bars, and other PR firms, managed to create an aura of old-school celebratory big-band imbibing on a truly orgiastic scale. We ran into the lovely Ana Jovancicevic, from Handcrafted PR, who looked stunning in turquoise (Ana always looks stunning no matter where you see her), and who was responsible for procuring the gargantuan portions of food festooned throughout the library: Henry VIII–sized roasted turkey drumsticks, whole suckling pigs, an endless supply of oysters. At the oyster bar, we chatted with Jaime Salas, Tres Generaciones Tequila Ambassador. We also ran into Dan Warner, Beefeater Brand Ambassador, who the night before made us some delicious drinks at the new Crosby Hotel to celebrate Gary Regan’s new book, The Bartender’s Gin Compendium. The possibility of food running out seemed very slim, as well as alcohol. Some of the drinks we had were insanely good, such as the Brooklyn made with Maker’s Mark bourbon. As we moseyed upstairs to the mezzanine, we spotted Lynnette Marrero who whipped up a Liberty Cocktail for Steve (Zacapa Rum, Applejack Bonded, Demerara sugar syrup) and Toby Maloney who rinsed, sprayed, and stirred a Hungry Manhattan (Bulleit bourbon, Punt e Mes, Zwack, Campari, Angostura Bitters, Lagavulin rinse) for Paul. Both drinks were simply excellent, and no wonder. Their base spirits (Zacapa Rum and Bulleit Bourbon) are some of the best of their kind.

Before we left we chatted with some more friends from the cocktail biz: Danny Ronen, writer, consultant, and ginger-promoting ambassador to Domaine de Canton; Blair Reynolds, Portland, Oregon, cocktail expert; Damon, the man behind the bar at the delicious-in-every-bite Prime Meats in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. No one’s hands were empty; everyone seemed happy as a clam.

We even ran into novelist, Gawker contributor, and Dazzle Dancer Mike Albo and his friend Kimberly Sexton who is developing her own line of skin care using cacao. A marriage made in choco-heaven! As Mike and Steve chatted about this, that, and the other thing, Kimberly slipped Paul a sealed syringe bottle filled with Daniel Preston’s secret cacao-based spirit, aged one year in an American Oak barrel. We later made a drink with it after a few taste-tests, and ooh boy, this stuff is good. We look forward to hearing more from Daniel Preston and his Brooklyn Cacao in the near near future.

All in all, it was lovely, decadent, and mirthful, and if this was billed as “Preview,” what insanity can we expect from the real deal in the Spring? We can’t wait!

If you want to check out some more great photos of the event, click here.


Liqueur d’Orange and Rouge, from Combier.

2. Combier is releasing two new bottlings, Royal Combier and Rouge, and we were on hand at Dutch Kills in Long Island City, Queens, to taste their exquisite Frenchness. Ah, Combier. We love it in a Sidecar. We knew we’d love the new stuff. And that we did. The Royal Combier is sure to rival its competitors in the Cognac-based orange liqueurs, and the Rouge—let’s just say that there is not another cherry liqueur that tastes so, well, so darn cherrylike. And we’re talking real fresh cherries, not the not-so-fresh cherry flavor in those syrupy old-fashioned cherryesque liqueurs. We can’t wait to start mixing with it!


The men behind Combier: Scott Goldman and Frank Choisne.

And do visit Dutch Kills. There is a long bar at which to ogle the sleight-of-hand prowess of bar masters, such as the estimable Giuseppe Gonzalez. And if you want a more intimate setting (with a date, a loved one, a business partner), dark and sexy booths line the walls as you enter this gorgeous establishment started by none other than Sasha Petraske, founder of Milk & Honey. We look forward to a proper visit.

3. Junior Merino recently touted the 100% blue-agave properties of Don Roberto tequila at a tasting he and the Don Roberto people sponsored at Rayuela, one of our favorite restaurants on the Lower East Side. Paul went solo this time and as he walked up the stairs at Rayuela, past the tree that oversees all in the restaurant, Heidi Merino gave him a kiss on the cheek and handed him a Guadalajara Silver, a slightly sweet blend of lime, green apple, and grapefruit juices, shaken with some Don Roberto Plata, a little ginger liqueur and some agave nectar thrown in. Shake it up and off you go. This was such a refreshing bridge drink, easing us from summer into fall, and everyone lapped them up.

Junior then had us seated as he presented to us the three styles of Don Roberto: Plata (or silver or white), Reposado (means rested, aged for several months), and Añejo (aged over a year). [Paul’s now slipping into the first person.] I would have to say my favorite was the Añejo—it had a musky, fresh-wood smell, almost like sawdust (but in a good, piny way), and the sip was smooth, yet deep and full of caramel-woodsy age. The distinction that Don Roberto possesses has to do with terroir: the agave plants grow at the base of a volcano, so the plants take in some of the flavor nuances of the soil. You definitely get that in this tequila, especially in the Plata, but nuttier in the Reposado.

A lot of familiar faces were present, everyone merry with an endless supply of sips and nibbles, aglow with the ruddiness of Mexican spirits running through their veins. I look forward to sharing some Don Roberto Añejo con Esteban.

Guadalajara Silver
(crafted by Junior Merino)

1 1/2 oz. Don Roberto Plata
1/4 oz. agave nectar
3/4 oz. fresh lime juice
1/2 oz. fresh pink grapefruit juice
3/4 oz. ginger liqueur
1/2 oz. fresh Granny Smith apple juice

Rim glass with sugar and cinnamon and add ice. Pour all the ingredients into a shaker, shake for fifteen seconds, and pour into rocks-filled glass.

All in all, October has proven itself to be a mighty fine month. Yes indeed. [sip.]

Mixology Monday XLII: A Dairy Drink That Will Surely Make You Dizzy with Delight

The Maltese is a creamy, bittersweet delight.

Egg whites bestow cocktails with a silky smooth texture that makes for a magical mouthfeel. Cream adds a richness that instantly puts cocktails in the category of “dessert” or “breakfast.” (How many of us have enjoyed a Ramos Gin Fizz in the AM hours, before putting food into our gullets?) And speaking of gullets, this month’s Mixology Monday is hosted by Chris Amirault at eGullet Forums. Chris has asked us to use dairy products in our cocktail, and we have decided to put forward one that uses two just like our friend Ramos: heavy cream and egg whites.

We came up with the idea for our cocktail this summer when we were working with Piedmont Distillers for a special Spirited Lunch at Bourbon House during Tales of the Cocktail in New Orleans. The dessert in question: molasses and cornmeal custard with creole cream cheese ice cream. Instead of finding something complementary to pair with the cornmeal custard (which has the breadlike consistency of an Indian pudding), we decided to go all-out dairy and try to match the flavors in the dish with the flavors in the drink.

Since we were making the cocktail for a Southern dish, why not use Southern ingredients. So we brewed up a pot of chicory coffee (perfect for morning or postprandial sipping), and reached for the bottle of Grandma’s Molasses. Catdaddy, the flavored moonshine we used in our cocktails for the lunch, has just the right sweetness to marry the bitterness of the coffee and molasses, and by adding cream and egg white, the frothiness you get from shaking the hell out of the mixture makes for a pretty, layered concoction. We couldn’t just stop there though and had to add some orange-scented chocolate shavings just to give it another dimension.

The Maltese
(created by Paul Zablocki and Steve Schul)

2 oz. Catdaddy Carolina Moonshine
3 oz. chilled strong coffee (try one with chicory)
1 oz. heavy cream
1 T. molasses
1 egg white
orange & spice-flavored chocolate shavings, as garnish (we use Green & Black’s Organic Maya Gold, but you can improvise)

In a shaker, add all the ingredients except garnish and shake vigorously for about a minute until the mixture gets slightly frothy. Then fill with ice and shake again vigorously for another minute. Strain into glasses. Grate chocolate over each to taste.

Serves 2.

Cocktail Buzz Creates a Hot New Fall Cocktail for Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol NYC Launch Party

Last night marked the book launch of Dan Brown’s new novel, The Lost Symbol, at New York City’s Gotham Hall, and we were asked by the nice people of Doubleday Books to come up with a signature cocktail to kick off the event. If you ever get the opportunity to attend an event at Gotham Hall, you will be happy you walked through its doors. What a glorious space, with high glass-tiled ceiling, and gorgeous Egyptian-style detail in the bars that once haunted this old, restored bank. And for the event, the book jacket’s symbols were projected in bright red all over the upper walls, providing a warm, passionate glow. It was if the book jacket had come to life.

The publicity people at Doubleday wanted a simple yet delicious (but, of course) martini-style cocktail that reflected the book’s red jacket. We started playing with POM pomegranate juice, which mixes nicely with many spirits and makes any drink glow a deep rich red (see photo and recipe below). The St-Germain adds a delightful herbal touch. We ended up making three drinks we just loved, and the folks at Doubleday chose one.

Truth be told, we were given no information about The Lost Symbol. Everything about it has been shrouded in mystery, yet due to the success and popularity of his earlier books, this new one quickly rose to number one on Amazon in pre-sales. The only things we were told were the title and that it featured Robert Langdon, who was played by Tom Hanks in the film version of The Da Vinci Code. After doing a little Google sleuthing of our own, we discovered that the Freemasons and George Washington’s putative treasonous acts were perhaps the focus of this The Lost Symbol. (Our sleuthing paid off—there were cherry trees everywhere, a nod to the myth that Washington chopped down one of those suckers for reasons we really cannot recall; and the men and women behind the stick, as well as the cater-waiters, sported white perukes, providing a whiff of the eighteenth century.)

We’re delighted with the results. The Langdon’s Folly reminds us of white grapes bursting with juicy tangy sweetness. They are easy to make, light in alcohol, and perfect for your next fall cocktail party (or after your book club has finished discussing one of The Lost Symbol’s chapters). Drinking two would not be considered indecent.


Langdon's Folly
(created by Steve Schul and Paul Zablocki)

1 1/2 oz. POM pomegranate juice
1 oz. vodka
1/4 oz. St-Germain elderflower liqueur

Shake in ice for 15 seconds. Strain into chilled cocktail glass. You can add an orange twist to this drink. Do not twist above cocktail—simply toss into the drink. A small peel (using a vegetable peeler and about 1/2 inch by 1 1/2 inches without the pith) would float nicely.

(photographs © 2009 Steve Schul)

Char No. 4 in Brooklyn Is an American Whiskey Lover’s Paradise

Last night for our eighth anniversary we decided to give Char No. 4 a try. Several of our friends have praised its seasonal cuisine, as well as the modest yet modern interior, all autumnal browns and bieges lit by mid-century-ish sconces and pendant lights. But what impressed us the most was the whiskey list. Broken down into fourteen categories such as wheated bourbon and single malt scotch, and featuring a wide variety of American whiskey such as bourbon and rye, this carte can be overwhelming for the uninitiated. But don’t despair; just ask your the friendly wait and bar staff for some help, and they will steer you in the right direction.

To start our evening, we sipped on some Rittenhouse 23-year rye. Expensive, yes (it’s $15 per ounce), but it was worth every sip. We always say that the details matter, and when the drinks were served in large, stemless glasses with a side of crystal-clear ice cubes, we smiled because we knew we’d be able to try the rye three ways: neat, with a drop of water to open it up, and one single small cube swirled around, to round out the edges. All three ways proved intoxicatingly delightful, and if it weren’t for the price tag, we’d have a bottle on our home shelves all the time. Just the nose, with traces of rich caramel and dark brown sugar, were enough to send us into paroxysms of blissful sighs.

Now it was time to counteract the effects of the rye with some grub, and the menu at Char No. 4 seemed to have plenty to tempt our taste buds. What to start with, and what cocktail to accompany our meal? Too much appealed—we had to narrow our focus. We knew we wanted to try the house-cured lamb pastrami (the thinnest, most tender slices) with coriander aioli and rye-caraway toast, and also the crispy cheddar curds with spicy pimento sauce (what meal is complete without cheese!), so we opted for an old favorite, the Sazerac.


Sazerac
2 oz. rye
1/2 oz. simple syrup
3 dashes Peychaud’s bitters
splash of Herbsant, to rinse the glass
lemon twist, or peel

Pour Herbsaint into a glass, swish it around, then empty the glass. In a shaker filled with ice, add the rye, simple syrup, and bitters. Shake for 15 seconds and strain into the Herbsaint-rinsed glass. Squeeze the lemon twist over the drink and add to the glass. Add ice, if desired.

Ah, the Sazerac, the official cocktail of New Orleans. For the uninitiated, a contemporary Sazerac is made by swishing some Herbsaint (absinthe’s less potent cousin) in a glass, then dumping it out before adding chilled rye laced with a few dashes of Peychaud’s red and spiky bitters, a bit of simple syrup, and a lemon twist. During the early years of our togetherness, this was the first cocktail that we searched high and low for the ingredients. Our zeal could not be contained. Like Indiana Jones’s search for the Holy Grail, we were on a quest to make this age-old quaff, so, when it came time to choose the rye, we opted for, what else, Sazerac rye. Slightly grassy in aroma and taste, Sazerac is dry more than sweet and is a pleasant foil to the sweetness of the simple syrup.

But, alas, Char No. 4 was out of Sazerac rye. Oh well, Rittenhouse 100 proof would have to do. When the waiter returned with our drinks, we both took a sip and smiled. The bartender managed to create a dryish cocktail that had a nice lemony tang and very little sugar (perhaps a little lemon juice was added, no worries). But what made us smile even more was the way the cocktail worked with the cheese curds and the lamb. Perfection. So, after baaing contentedly for a few mouthfuls, we decided to keep the food coming.

Should we go healthy and eschew the red meat–heavy dishes, or jump right in and get all buttery and fatty. Well, compromise is the key to any meal (and relationship, for that matter), so we ordered baby green salad with pecan and marjoram dressing (very healthy), some beet and blue cheese salad (healthy), and shrimp & grits (umm, well, this is where compromise comes into play). Let us proclaim that these grits were the best we ever had the pleasure of devouring (or second-best, if you count the cheese grits we had this summer at Madewood Plantation in Napoleonville, Louisiana). Thank God we had a few sips of the Sazerac left because it made all the healthy food taste even better, and the shrimp & grits sublimier.

Normally we don’t have dessert, but what the hell, it was our eighth anniversary. Traditionally, one gives one’s partner a gift of bronze for the eighth anniversary. The homemade butter pecan ice cream (chunks of sweet and salty praline) with bourbon sauce was bronze-colored, so close enough. Let’s just say that the the dessert lasted about as long as the Harrison presidency. Scoop, slurp, aaaah.

Will we return to Char No. 4? You bet. With over a hundred brown spirits on the menu, we have no choice but to become whiskey ethnographers, charting our bibulous journey through the rural reaches of Appalachia, all the way around the globe through the far-off mysteries of the Orient (there are eleven Japanese whiskeys for sampling), and back again.

P.S. We celebrate our anniversary on both September 8 and 9. But we were too pooped to celebrate on the 8th, so we opted to stay in and make an anniversary cocktail. Since our favorite go-to cocktail is the Manhattan, and much Maker’s Mark bourbon was drunk when we first met, we decided to make a Manhattan using Makers’s, Carpano Antica (our new favorite vermouth), and some Angostura bitters. The Manhattan never fails to bring a rush of color to our faces. Have one tonight with the one you love.

Anniversary Manhattan
2 oz. Maker’s Mark bourbon
1 oz. Carpano Antica vermouth
2 dashes Angostura bitters.

Stir in a mixing glass for 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a brandied cherry.

Mixology Monday XLI: Vodka Is Your Friend

The Universe Cocktail. A Studio 54 Classic.

Vodka, the most loved and most hated spirit known to us. Flavorless, odorless, colorless. It’s like water with a kick. It can be the darling of the sorority house party or the butt of every serious cocktail-creators joke. Are the young ladies of the former drinking just to get drunk with the least amount of calories and flavor? Probably. Are the latter really snobs, poo-pooing the former’s love for such a boring way to get drunk? Most likely. But for some reason, vodka is the go-to spirit when you need to reacquaint yourself with an old friend like the Harvery Wallbanger. The Vesper. The Vodka Martini.

One of our favorite vodka drinks is perfect for a hot summer night, harking back to the age it was invented in 1978. The Universe, as our esteemed vodka cocktail is called, was unveiled at Studio 54, winning First Prize in the the U.S. Bartenders Guild Annual Competition.

The Universe
1/2 ounces Midori melon liqueur
1/2 ounce vodka
1/2 ounce Dumante pistachio liqueur
1/2 ounce pineapple juice
1/2 ounce fresh lime juice

Shake for 30 seconds in an ice-filled shaker. Strain into chilled cocktail glass.

If you want to know what pairs perfectly with The Universe, watch our video that places baked coconut shrimp side by side with this disco classic. A great combo for a summer barbecue.

(photo by Steve Schul)