Pomegranates Make Easter Cocktailing a Joy: PAMA Nog

This light and fruity nog, made with three pomegranate expressions, will make your Easter celebrations an affair to remember. And because of its low-alcohol content, you can have two (or three).

Pomegranates ten years ago were exotic to most Westerners, especially to us East Coasters. Sure, we’d seen those burnished red orbs piled up in a produce-section crate at the grocery store, their crown-shaped nipples beckoning us to get a little closer, but by sheer ignorance we shuttered our eyes to their beauty. We just didn’t know what to do with them except make a mess with the arils, those pip-like seeds coated with the sweet juice that gives the pomegranate its distinct enchanting flavor.


The arils, pips, or seeds of the pomegranate (call them what you will) are the paragons of contrast: sweet and soft on the outside, hard and slightly bitter on the inside. Nibbling them can become an addiction.

Mythologically, the pomegranate, which originated in Iran, has bewitched many a soul, the most famous being Persephone, the Goddess of the Underworld in Greek tales. Poor Persephone. Abducted by Hades, god of the Underworld, she was forced to take a seat by his throne whilst he lorded over the dead. Her mom, Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest, was thrown into a deep depression, so deep, as a result, winter enveloped all with its bitter chill. All vegetation shriveled up, and nothing new grew. Well, this didn’t sit well with Zeus, king of the Gods, so he ordered Hades to return Persephone to terra firma so that the shrubs and trees and flowers could once again bloom. But Hades, being devilish and cunning, tricked Persephone into eating six pomegranate seeds, so that she would be forced to stay—you see, the Fates had decreed that anyone who imbibed anything while they were roaming the dark and gloomy caverns of the Underworld were doomed to live eternity there. Six seeds were hardly enough to merit eternal damnation, so it was decided that six months a year would suffice. And during those six months, Demeter’s mourning chills the Earth, forcing the greenery into early retirement.

How dreary. And you thought pomegranates were life-affirming because of all the hullabaloo about its antioxidant properties.



But after six months of bitterness and cold, hope springs eternal. Yes, spring, the season of renewal and life, returns with the release of Persephone from Hades’s corpsy clutches. And what better symbol to promote this renewal than the egg. Going way back in Teutonic Mythology, the egg symbolized, you guessed it, renewal. Ēostre, the Goddess of spring, represented by the egg and the rabbit (yes, the bunny represents fecundity, so we get the Easter Bunny from her too), lent her name to the holiday. So eggs and Easter somehow become intertwined forever, as lovers united in a common vision of resurrection. Easter + eggs. The two words fit so well together, we can’t imagine an Easter without them. And after a gloomy winter, the more decorated these eggs are, the better.

Which brings us to the drink. We’ll call it PAMA Nog (we get nothing promoting the brand, it just sounds good). Look at the photo: It’s like a wee present, dappled in little jeweled seeds, life’s beginnings. These little ruby eggs of sweet and bitter, floating atop a cloud of pomegranate–blueberry juice laced with a hearty dose of PAMA pomegranate-flavored liqueur, when we bite into you and take a sip of your smooth and creamy essence, we become one with all mythologies that hand down their circle-of-life fables to the generations; we are cradled by their stories. (It’s that good.)

So what we’re trying to say is Steve’s drink, PAMA Nog, is a celebration of this life-cycle, and what better holiday than Easter to fete the renewal of life. In Christian mythology, Jesus rises from the dead after a nasty run-in with the Roman authorities, and it is on Easter that Christians commemorate this event — much like the Ancient Greeks would pay homage to Persephone, and the Northern Europeans would honor Ēostre — in song, dance, parades, dramas, and special holidays.

We just chose to add some liquor to our medium. But you will find the whole egg in there — yolk and white separated at first, then reunited in bibulous bliss. Mmm. Happy Lip-Smacking Easter.

PAMA Nog
(created by Steve Schul, Cocktail Buzz)

Serves 2.

Ingredients
2 ounces PAMA Pomegranate Liqueur
1 egg, divided (yolk and white separated)
5 teaspoons sugar, divided (4/1)
1/2 cup skim milk
1/4 cup pomegranate–blueberry juice (or just pomegranate juice)
nutmeg, freshly ground
pomegranate seeds, as garnish

Method
In a bowl, beat the egg yolk and 4 teaspoons of sugar with a mixer until it lightens in color and sugar is dissolved. Add PAMA Pomegranate Liqueur, milk, pomegranate-blueberry juice, and stir to combine.

Place the egg white and the 1 additional teaspoon of sugar in a bowl and beat with mixer until soft peaks form. Whisk the egg whites into the mixture. Chill. Whisk before serving. Divide between two glasses and garnish with pomegranate seeds and freshly ground nutmeg. Enjoy.

Hot and Cold Irish Whiskey Drink Recipes for St. Patrick’s Day, After Hours

Celebrating St. Patrick’s Day doesn’t always have to begin at the crack of dawn. An Irish Coffee may be the perfect way to end a meal with family and friends.

The Tale of Rosie and Her Dad’s Irish Coffee

It’s not often we imbibe postprandial drinks — we usually limit ourselves to one when we’re cocktailing it at home, so that always means pre-dinner — but last night was special because our neighbor, the fabulously talented Burlesque performer Rosie 151, stopped by our test kitchen to help us whip up some Irish Coffees just in time for St. Patrick’s Day. Rosie shared with us her Dad’s family recipe, and lovingly limned each step as Paul went through the motions of replicating Dad’s most revered concoction.

A side note about Irish Coffee: It was most likely invented in the 40’s by one Joe Sheridan, a chef in County Limerick who added some Irish whiskey to a group of Americans’ coffees when their flight was delayed. Not a bad way to spend those hours. We suppose that after years of perfection of this caffeinated potable, Irish Coffee eventually had to make its way stateside by someone who loved it so. This happened to be Stanton Delaplane, a travel writer who worked for the San Francisco Chronicle. On a fall evening in 1952, he brought his remembrance of the recipe to the men at the Buena Vista Cafe, and after hours of trial and tribulation, and falling all over each other in sheer energized inebriation, the Irish Coffee became an American staple.

By nature it’s a contradictory drink: On the one hand, sipping the rich dark coffee is like being injected with a shot of adrenalin; on the other hand, the spiky presence of Irish whiskey makes you feel like you’re being laced with a potent soporific. But that’s what’s so fun about this drink. You get a nice boost of energy before being tamed into submission by the distilled effects of Irish liquor. Sometimes after a hard day’s work, it’s nice to straddle between the worlds of Morpheus and Mercury.

So as Paul dutifully boiled water, whipped cream, and poured spirits, and Rosie cooed instructions, both their beaus arrived for some lusty mugsful accompanied by some light cookies. As the last dollops of cream started to reveal milky legs dripping down the coffee-whiskey mixture, we couldn’t help but raise a toast to Rosie’s dad, offering a most-deserved “thank you.” Artistry must run through the family.

Dad’s Irish Coffee
(recipe courtesy of Terry Grillo)

Ingredients
2 ounces Irish whiskey
6 ounces fresh-brewed coffee, strong
3 dollops fresh whipped cream, gloppy, not stiff
2 tablespoons, plus 1 teaspoon superfine sugar, separated (you can use regular sugar as well)
nutmeg (preferably freshly ground)

Tools and Sundries Needed
1 pint cream (we prefer heavy)
dark-roast coffee beans
kettle
large mixing bowl
electric beater, standing mixer, or strong arms
tempered-glass mugs (to see the effect of the whipped cream melting into the brew)

Method
Make sure you adjust the recipe according to the number of Irish coffees you’re making. Boil a kettle full of water (make sure you have at least 15 ounces for every Irish coffee you are making). Fill tempered-glass mugs. With the remaining water, brew your favorite unflavored coffee, such as French Roast.

Meanwhile, make whipped cream: Fill a large mixing bowl with an entire pint of cream, plus 2 tablespoons of superfine sugar. Whip until the cream is gloppy, not stiff. To test, a spoonful of whipped cream will gently plop off when tipped (not remain stuck to the spoon).

Empty the mugs and add remaining teaspoon of sugar, followed by Irish whiskey, then coffee. Stir. Top with an inch-thick layer of whipped cream. Garnish with nutmeg, to taste.

Variations
If you’re more of a traditionalist, you can substitute brown sugar for the superfine sugar added to the mug. Or, instead of adding the sugar altogether, add a half ounce of Irish Mist.

Why Stop at Dad’s Irish Coffee When There’s More To Be Drunk

And speaking of Irish Mist, that honey-and-heather laced whiskey liqueur from Dublin, we offer you another after-dinner libation. A variation on the classic Rusty Nail (which unites scotch whisky and Drambuie), the Irish Nail flaunts Irish whiskey’s natural attraction to Irish Mist, creating a smooth, honey-sweet drink that is the perfect nightcap. It’s also a further variation on a Black Nail, which uses equal parts Irish Mist and Irish whiskey, plus an orange peel for a little flavor. You may want to have an Irish Nail after a round of Dad’s Irish Coffees. Don’t forget to nibble on some shortbread while you do. They go so well together. Slàinte. (That’s Irish-Gaelic for “Cheers.”)


Use all your senses as you bring the golden glow of an Irish Nail to your lips.

Irish Nail
(adapted by Cocktail Buzz, based on a Black Nail)

Ingredients
1 1/2 ounces Irish whiskey
1/2 ounce Irish Mist (use less depending on how sweet you like your drink)
3 ice cubes
orange peel, as garnish (optional)

Method
Stir in ice for 15 seconds. Add ice cubes to rocks glass. Strain into glass.

photos © Cocktail Buzz

Celebrate National Absinthe Day with The Green Fairy

The Green Fairy gambols through the butterfly forest in this vintage absinthe poster.

March 5 is National Absinthe Day. You have twenty-four hours in which to worship at the altar of The Green Fairy, as it has been commonly referred to in literature because of its hue and high alcohol content (you’d see fairies too if you drank enough).

Absinthe can be a conundrum for the uninitiated. “It’s so strong and licorice tasting, how can I possibly like it?” Absinthe derives its strong, somewhat medicinal flavor from all the botanicals and seeds stirred into the distillate, such as anise, fennel, and the controversial wormwood. Wormwood (Artemesia absinthium) is a bitter, menthol-tasting plant that secretes oil containing thujone, a regulated compound and the source of the controversy. In the past, people believed that thujone in high quantities could induce hallucinations; however, the actual amount of thujone present in absinthe is so small as to induce nothing more than eye-rolling from inveterate absinthe drinkers who know that it’s the high alcohol contact that’s more apt to induce visions of the la fée verte. So if you sip some absinthe straight from the bottle, you’ll notice immediately the bitter woodsy floweriness of the wormwood that gives absinthe its unique vegetal flavor. It should not taste anything like mouthwash. If it does, you’ve got yourself a bottle of crap. You should also know that not all absinthe is green. Take for instance Lucid. Its pale straw color is barely perceptible in the dim light of a smoky bar, but its taste is unmistakably “absinthean.”

“Let me be mad . . .
mad with the madness
of Absinthe, the wildest, most
luxurious madness in the world.”

— Marie Corelli, early-20th-century British fantasy novelist

The most traditional way to take your absinthe is with sugar and cold water in a process called louching. Ice water from an urn is slowly allowed to drip through a controllable spigot onto a sugar-cube held by a fancy-looking miniature spade with holes. This is an absinthe spoon and it is positioned over a glass containing your favorite absinthe. When the water drips and slowly dissolves the sugar cube, the absinthe will become milky and diluted by the cold water and the sugar, turning it into a highly enjoyable sipper.


The louche (pronounced loosh), or the milky green opalescence, is the center of Lee Harlem’s absinthe poster.

Absinthe also mixes well with many spirits, and a bottle can last you a seeming eternity since many recipes only call for a dash or two of this liquor. We’ve shared absinthe cocktails with you in the past, some with just a touch, to add a bright anise flavor, others with a heavy dose that pack a wallop. Regardless of how you like to imbibe the Green Fairy, here are collected posts containing absinthe. You can search for the word absinthe once you click the link to find the recipes. Absinthe cocktails and more. Also note that you can substitute absinthe for Herbsaint and Pastis in these recipes. Bottoms up!

Three Winter Cocktails, Two Warm, One Frosty, To Get You Out of the Rut You’re Probably In

Orange, tarragon, and vanilla: these are the flavors at the fore of the cachaça-based

O Sonho de Paulo.

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by these extraordinary cocktails.

Okay. We can’t attribute this entire quotation to Shakespeare; but our amendment to the opening of “Richard III” suggests that when the winter doldrums have gotten you down, some fine tippling of superb drinks can bring the warmth of summer back into your life. We hear you say this winter hasn’t been such a bad one. That may be true for our neck of the woods, but as our planet shifts meteorologically into uncharted territory on a global level, we can feel safe and secure knowing that at least a well-crafted cocktail can calm our nerves.

So we’ll celebrate this strangeness of wintertime with three somewhat-strange cocktails, one from our hands, one from from a newish Williamsburg, Brooklyn, establishment that knows how to craft a supremely sippable wintertime drink (and some small plates of deliciousness to accompany it), and the third from a posh Midtown Manhattan restaurant mixologist.

Our first cocktail is one we came up with a few years back. We have no idea why we didn’t publish it sooner since we turn to it every time we crave some fresh-squeezed orange juice, which usually happens every winter. The cachaça in it makes it a little exotic, along with the tarragon-infused vodka, but we think that once you take the time to make this drink, you’ll keep all of its ingredients on your home bar shelf, or cabinet, or sideboard—wherever it is you allow your spirits to rest. It all comes down to the flavor. Imagine a creamsicle, but for adults only. The burnished sweetness of the cachaça and the anise flavors of tarragon mitigate the all-out vanilla yumminess of the Licor 43. An orange wheel touches your lips every time you sip and keeps the crushed ice in your glass. We call it O Sonho de Paulo, Portuguese for Paul’s Dream.

O Sonho de Paulo
(created by Cocktail Buzz)

Ingredients
1 1/2 ounces cachaça
1/2 ounces tarragon-infused vodka*
1 ounce Licor 43 (or other vanilla liqueur)
1 ounce orange juice,

orange wheel, as garnish

Method
Shake in ice for 15 seconds. Strain into double-rocks glass or goblet filled with crushed ice. Garnish with thin orange wheel.

* Tarragon-Infused Vodka
2 cups vodka
12 tarragon sprigs

In an airtight container, add 12 tarragon sprigs for every 2 cups of vodka. Let infuse for at least three days and up to five days (the longer you wait, the stronger the anise-grassy flavor), shaking the container at least once a day. Strain into another airtight container and label.

❤ ❤ ❤

Where we drank and dined at Betto. A small plate concept restaurant and bar, Betto graces the hipster streets of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, with satisfying food and cocktails.

Last week we spent a night noshing on small plates and sipping well-crafted cocktails at Betto in Williamsburg with our lovely friends Tony, Jim, and Brooke. It was Tony’s birthday, and we had originally tried to get in to Fette Sau, but, lucky for us, it was overcrowded with what seemed like a Brooklyn geek pork-lovers convention mixed with some hotspot-seeking out-of-neighborhooders who caught the whiff of this popular BBQ joint. But enough of that. Let’s focus on Betto. Even though we feel that the small plates concept of dining has peeked and is now slouching towards back-lash territory, Betto seems to defy all odds and offers creative, seasonal fare, but with specials that are dinner-plate sized as well. Case in point: the pork shop slathered in a sage butter. What made chef Jason Denton’s chop so special was its level of doneness (slightly pink), and its saltiness (a little above average, to coax out the porky, sagy goodness). From the small, tapas-style plates we munched on, the roasted acorn squash with pepitas and the pillowy meatballs reigned supreme. We also could have eaten a whole bowl of the spaghetti with tomato (we had this dish separate from the meatballs for our non-mammal-eating friend), very al dente, bursting with umami savoriness.

Paul’s drink piqued everyone’s curiosity because of its ingredients and temperature: The Westburns cocktail boasted strangely both Breuckelen gin (a one-of-a-kind gin that’s a cross between a malty genever and a botanical traditional-style gin, made right here in one of the creative hubs of the universe) and Four Roses Bourbon (one of our favorites, especially the Single Barrel). But what made it unique was the hot water added once all the other ingredients (sweet vermouth, sugar, muddled orange slice and maraschino cherry) were mixed together. Imagine an old-fashioned toddy. It was love at first sip. Matt Carr, the man behind the stick who helped create this exquisite concoction, was kind enough to write out the recipe for us. Now you can enjoy it too.

The Westburns
(created by Matt Carr and Brittany Rogers, Betto)

Ingredients
1 ounce Four Roses bourbon
1 ounce Breuckelen gin (or another genever gin)
1/2 ounce Carpano Antica sweet vermouth
2 dashes Angostura bitters
2 dashes Regan’s Orange Bitters #6
1 raw sugar cube
1 orange slice
1 maraschino cherry
5 ounces hot water

Method
In a double-rocks glass, add the fruit, sugar cube, and bitters. Muddle. Add the booze and hot water. Stir and serve.

❤ ❤ ❤

Feel a little chill? Then make one of these Latin Lavas, hot-buttered rum at it very best. The secret: Santa Teresa 1796 aged rum.

We both recently attended another fabulous Hanna Lee Communications cocktail-and-food event at Michael’s New York, where mixologist Michael Flannery came up with the perfect hot-buttered rum drink he dubbed the Latin Lava. Made with the divine Santa Teresa 1796, from Venezuela’s oldest rum producer, this brew was considered a favorite by the cocktail cognoscenti there to support the brand, taste chef Kyung Up Lim’s take on Korean street food (yummy!!!), and see Hanna Lee tango. It was quite a spectacle. In fact, a night to remember.

The Latin Lava
(created by Michael Flannery, Michael’s New York)

Ingredients
1 1/2 ounces Santa Teresa 1796 rum
1/2 ounce Marie Brizzard anisette liqueur
1 pat housemade compound butter*
4 ounces hot cider
cinnamon stick, as garnish

Method
Add hot cider to melt a pat of butter in an Irish coffee mug. Once the butter is melted, add rum and anisette liqueur. Serve with cinnamon stick.

* We’re not sure what additions were a part of the compound butter, but warming holiday spices, such as cinnamon, seemed to be included. Check out what’s in your spice rack, and if it sounds like it would go with hot cider, then go ahead and mix it in with your butter.

O Sonho de Paulo photo by Steve Schul © Steve Schul, Cocktail Buzz; Betto photo by Noah Fecks; Latin Lava photo coutsey Hanna Lee Communications

The Addictive Qualities of Braunschweiger Spread paired with Ginger Almond Brandy

Braunschweiger, a type of German liverwurst, makes a spread so delectable, you may just have to lick the bowl clean. Pair it with a simple drink of brandy, amaretto, and ginger beer.

Growing up, we both ate our fair share of sandwiches, some of them slathered in “spreads.” For Steve, these spreads mainly consisted of Braunschweiger (more on this, in a moment). For Paul, these spreads came from a little can with the Underwood label: Deviled Ham, Roast Beef, White Meat Chicken, and lastly Liverwurst.

Liverwurst. Just saying the word induces scrunched-up noses and guttural utterances of disapproval from many Americans. We just don’t eat a lot of liver today, unless we grew up with a delicatessen diet or had budget-conscious parents who tried to make it palatable by saying “It’s good for you.”

And liverwurst is a tough one to pair with cocktails, especially spirituous ones, which only heighten the alcohol burn and metallic livery flavor.

Enter Braunschweiger Spread, a lighter, yet still rich and creamy, bastard cousin of liverwurst. It’s made of Braunschweiger (essentially fancy German liverwurst) and various seasonings, cream cheese, and other condiments. Literally, Braunschweiger means someone who hails from Braunschweig (Brunswick to English speakers), Germany, where the liverwurst probably was popularized, but if you break it down into two words, it means a Brown Man of Few Words. Perhaps an image of a laconic UPS driver popped into your head. We like to think that this is appropriate, as Braunschweiger Spread delivers without much ado what’s essential: fat to keep you sated, vitamins to keep you healthy, and flavor to keep you eating it.

We make a very simple Braunschweiger Spread that you can whip up in a matter of minutes (after a little shopping at your grocery store). It pairs delightfully with another German: Asbach Brandy. Mixed with some ginger beer and amaretto, it cuts through the rich creaminess of the spread. Make some before dinner tonight (you can have a light salad, for some green balance).


Braunschweiger Spread
(adapted by Cocktail Buzz)

This recipe is forgiving, meaning you can play with the measurements to achieve your desired balance of flavor. Packages of Braunschweiger liver sausage are usually 8 ounces, but save 2 ounces to try on its own with the crackers, paired with the Ginger Almond Brandy drink, to experience the difference.

Ingredients
3/4 tube (6 ounces) Braunschweiger liver sausage
1/2 package cream cheese, softened
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1 tablespoon India pickle relish
1 tablespoons finely diced red onion
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
rosemary crackers (or other varieties of crackers)

Method
Combine ingredients in a food processor or standing mixer. Pulse, or mix on low, until the mixture reaches a desired spreadable state (you don’t want it too smooth or too chunky . . . in between is perfect). Transfer to a bowl. Serve with crackers.


Ginger Almond Brandy
(created by Cocktail Buzz)

Ingredients
1 1/2 ounces brandy (we used Asbach)
1/2 ounce amaretto (we used Lazzaroni)
3 ounces ginger beer (we used Reed’s extra ginger)
cherry of any kind, with a touch of syrup (optional)
ice

Method
Add brandy and amaretto to a mixing glass and stir (or shake, if you prefer) for 15 seconds. Strain into ice-filled double-rocks or highball glass. Top with ginger beer. Add cherry, if you prefer, and give it a little stir.

The retro-inspired Braunschweiger Spread will make your party guests coo with delight.

Get Your Freak On with Cheddar Blue Fricos

Behold the Cheddar Blue Frico, a crisp wafer of cheesy bliss. It’s difficult to eat just one. Try them with a Manhattan Cocktail, an ideal partner.

The other day we attended a potluck at the offices of Gojee, a Web site devoted to amassing its editors’ favorite recipes from their favorite food and cocktail Web sites. Thrilled to have several of our cocktail recipes selected for their site, we decided to shake things up a bit and bring one of our party-food favorites to add to the array of offerings at the potluck: Cheddar Blue Fricos. For those unfamiliar with the term frico, it is an Italian parmesan crisp, made by baking or frying the cheese, mixed with a little flour, so that it forms into a lacy wafer as it melts and hardens. We came up with a Cheddar and Blue Cheese frico a few years back that pairs magically with whiskey cocktails, and decided to share these with the other bloggers and the Gojee team. Veronica Chan, one of the masterminds behind this uniquely curated site, informed us that there would be a bottle of bourbon awaiting us if we decided to come up with a cocktail to pair with the Cheddar blue fricos. Of course we had to come up with something. Why not our favorite cocktail, the Manhattan.

So we came prepared, armed with fricos on one hand, and a bottle of Cinzano sweet vermouth and Angostura bitters in the other. Paul mixed up a few cocktails for those whose curiosities were piqued while Steve offered up some fricos. Everyone asked, “What are these?” So we explained the origin of this species of Italian snack and how we altered it to suit our love of pairing whiskey cocktails with cheesy hors d’oeuvres.

If you are a true gourmand, you are not finished with your French onion soup until the last bits of hardened Swiss are peeled off the rim of the crock and popped in your mouth. Or the glob of Cheddar that has dripped from your pub burger, lying congealed on the cardboard container, is scooped up for the last moments of savory bliss. Eating a Cheddar blue frico is like having lots of these last bits all amassed and all to yourself. We think that’s why they bring so much pleasure.

After a few bites, and a lot of mms and rounds of “I love this,” we felt good. Maybe it was the Manhattans, or perhaps the good cheer and camaraderie everyone oozed. Regardless of the source, we all shared the in knowledge that good food and good drinks, all prepared with love and the intent to please, are what makes us human and happy.

Side Bar:
The night before the Gojee potluck, Steve whipped himself up a Manhattan, made with some Canadian Club whisky and Carpano Antica sweet vermouth, that tasted silky smooth after taking a bite of one of the fricos. Making a Manhattan with Canadian whiskey may seem like anathema to the most die-hard cocktail aficionados, but fuck it. If it tastes like the heavens opening up with cherubim singing the most dulcet tunes, then all sanctimonious rules of shaking and stirring be damned.

You should know that Cheddar Blue Fricos are super easy to make if you own a Silpat or another nonstick mat, and they pair exquisitely with a variety of whiskey cocktails, such as the Oh Pear, The Fascist, and Paddy. Choose your poison and start preheating your oven. You’re going to bring love and happiness to your party guests tonight.


Cheddar Blue Fricos
(created by Cocktail Buzz)

Ingredients
4 cups grated sharp or extra sharp cheddar cheese
1/4 cup grated blue cheese
spiced flour (see recipe below)

Method
Preheat oven to 375°F. Combine cheeses in bowl and mix with a fork. Add spiced flour and continue mixing until incorporated. Scoop tablespoons of the mixture and place on nonstick liner on cookie sheet about 2 inches apart.

Bake about 10 minutes until golden. Remove from oven and place entire cookie sheet on a wire rack to cool for several minutes. After cooling, use a metal spatula and carefully remove the fricos, placing them on the wire rack to cool completely. Once they have cooled completely, place them on a paper towel to absorb some of the grease.

May be made up to 3 days in advance. Keep in an airtight container with layers separated by wax paper.

Spiced Flour:
2 tbsp flour (1 tbsp for chewier fricos)
1/4 teaspoon mace
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon caraway seeds
1/8 teaspoon hot pimentón
1/2 teaspoon dried chervil or parsley
1/2 teaspoon dried marjoram

Combine ingredients in a bowl and mix thoroughly with a fork.

Canadian Manhattan
(created by Cocktail Buzz)

Ingredients
2 ounces Canadian Club whisky
1 ounce Carpano Antica sweet vermouth
2 dashes Angostura bitters
maraschino, brandied, or marascha cherry, for garnish

Method
Stir in ice for 15–30 seconds. Strain into chilled cocktail glass. Add cherry.


The Manhattan Cocktail. So Perfect with Cheddar Blue Fricos.

Manhattan
(Cocktail Buzz’s preferred ratio)

Ingredients
2 ounces rye whiskey (or bourbon)
1 ounce sweet vermouth (we like Carpano Antica)
2 dashes Angostura bitters
maraschino, brandied, or marascha cherry, for garnish

Method
Stir in ice for 15-30 seconds. Strain into chilled cocktail glass. Add cherry.

Extras:
To watch our video pairing the Oh Pear cocktail with Cheddar-Blue Fricos, click here.

Starting on Thursday, January 26, check out other potluck dishes fellow gojee contributors shared. Go to gojee.com and enter “gojeepotluck” into I Crave. You can also follow #gojeepotluck on Twitter.

photo © Steve Schul, Cocktail Buzz

Gravlax Is Easy To Make, and Will Impress Your Guests

Salt, sugar, white peppercorns, and dill are all that’s needed to make the divine Scandinavian cured salmon dish known as gravlax.

When I was in my twenties, I lived with a woman named Erika Worm (it’s pronounced vorm) who showed me the way around a professional kitchen. We lived in her family’s big house on a lake, and Erika cooked as if she were made for the task. As a result of her mom’s catering spell, not only was she blessed with the skills to rival a Top Chef, we had the run of a two-Viking-range kitchen with all the bells and whistles. I would watch her make dish after dish, probing her with questions about temperature, taste, and plating. Later in life, when I was the master of my own kitchen (read nonprofessional), I would try to replicate her dishes. One dish that stood out — one that did not even involve any cooking — was her recipe for gravlax.

Gravlax, slices of salt and sugar–cured salmon that have lightly soaked up the essence of fresh dill, is actually quite easy to make, and I remembered this distinctly. I think Erika called it a no-brainer that looks really impressive on the buffet table. All one needs to do is obtain a fresh piece of salmon, preferably one with the skin still on, and with a close-to-uniform thickness (the center cut works best), rub it with the cure, cover it with fresh dill, and let it sit for a day. How’s that for a no-brainer? I can already hear the wheels spinning in your head. You’re asking yourself where you can buy the freshest piece of salmon because you want to make this for your New Year’s Day brunch.


After you blanket the salmon with the salt and sugar cure, cover it with bunches of fresh dill.


Slicing the gravlax once it’s cured is really the only tricky part. Just make sure you have a thin-bladed and extremely sharp knife at the ready. Have some chilled champagne ready, as you will want to serve your beautiful creation with some bubbly. We recently enjoyed some gravalax with a passion fruit bellini made with thawed passion fruit (maracuja in Portuguese or lilikoi in Hawaiian) puree we always get from a Brazilian shop on 46th Street in Manhattan called Buzios. It also comes in a bottle. You can probably get it at a specialty market that stocks ethnic foods, but if not, you may have to ask your grocer to stock it.


Gravlax with Mustard Dill Sauce
(inspired by recipes by Erika Worm, Marcus Samuelsson, and Ina Garten)

Gravlax

Ingredients
1 1/2 – 2 pounds salmon fillet (skin on, thick center cut)
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 1/2 cups salt
2 tablespoons white peppercorns, coarsely ground (use less if you only have black peppercorns)
2 bunches fresh dill (reserve a handful for the sauce)
optional ground spices (such as cumin, caraway, coriander, aniseed, dill seed, juniper berries), in any combination and amount (this is not necessary, and is only suggested if you like to experiment)

Method
In a bowl, mix the sugar, salt, and peppercorns (and any other spices if you are using them). Place the salmon in a glass dish and remove any pin bones. You can locate them by running your fingers over the flesh where the natural separation occurs. Remove with your fingers or a pair of clean bottlenose pliers. Scoop up some of the mixture with your hand and rub all over the salmon, skin included. Place the salmon in a glass dish, and cover with the remainder of the mixture. Then, cover the salmon with the dill so that you don’s see any of the salmon. Press down gently. Let stand at room temperature for 5 hours, 6 maximum. Cover, and refrigerate for about 24–48 hours, the thicker the salmon, the longer the curing time.

Remove the gravlax from the dish (it will be swimming in all the liquid the salt cure has leached from it, and it should smell slightly metallic and briny underneath the dill). Discard the dill, and quickly rinse the gravlax under cold water until the mixture has been washed away. Do not saturate the gravlax. Place the gravlax on a cutting board and with a sharp knife cut thin slices across the grain.

Serve with mustard dill sauce and slices of bagel, or brown bread, or crisp rye bread. Sides of capers, sliced red onion, and lettuce leaves will be appreciated as well. Best eaten within 4 days.

Mustard Dill Sauce (aka hovmästarsås or gravlaxsås)

Ingredients
1 tablespoon honey mustard
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons sugar
3/4 cup oil, such as grapeseed or other neutral-tasting oil
salt and white pepper, to taste
1/4 cup chopped fresh dill

Method
In a bowl, or preferably a standing mixer, add all the ingredients except the oil. While mixing vigorously or with the mixer on high, slowly drizzle the oil in steadily. Mix until it thickens.

Passion Fruit Bellini
Ingredients
1/2 tablespoon passion fruit puree
1/2 teaspoon simple syrup*
3–4 ounces champagne, prosecco, or any sparkling wine

Method
In a champagne flute, add the passion fruit puree and the simple syrup. Top with chilled champagne.

* In a sauce pan over low heat, dissolve 1 cup sugar in 1 cup water, stirring occasionally until all crystals have dissolved. Let cool and transfer to a clean, airtight container. May be kept in refrigerator for up to a month.

Text by Paul Zablocki
Photos by Steve Schul and Paul Zablocki