Pernod Cocktail

It hasn't escaped my notice that this project, by its very nature, has made me pick up some of the famed ten warning signs of heavy drinking. When I was a kid, long before the advent of DARE, my classmates and I were taught to closely watch mommy and daddy for hints of incipient alcoholism. If any of these traits showed up, were were tasked with quickly reporting our parents to the appropriate authorities. To be honest, the whole thing was a little bit Orwellian.

At any rate, the ten warnings are:

1. Drinking alone
2. Making excuses, finding excuses to drink
3. Daily or frequent drinking needed to function
4. Inability to reduce or stop alcohol intake
5. Violent episodes associated with drinking
6. Drinking secretly
7. Becoming angry when confronted about drinking
8. Poor eating habits
9. Failure to care for physical appearance
10. Trembling in the morning

Well, although my wife generally takes a sip or two out of whatever potion I've made for the evening, I have to admit that I am, basically, drinking alone. I've been assured that this may well change when I switch from gin-based drinks to ... well, to anything that isn't gin-based. Virginia really, really hates gin.

Also, to be honest, I was somewhat angry when my Aunt made the assumption that doing this project will turn me into a raging alcoholic. I got especially ticked when she raised the specter of my cigarette smoking, offering it up as evidence that I have an addictive personality. Having never had problems with drinking -- and having quit smoking almost four years ago -- I found the summary judgment a little irritating.

But, beyond that, I think I'm pretty solid. I don't really tremble in the morning, although I have been known to stumble a bit, particularly if I didn't get enough sleep. While some may criticize my grooming, I feel like that's more of a general moral failing than any sort of drinking issue. As far as the rest, I think I'm on firm ground.

Even so, old indoctrinations die hard. Needless to say, I'm not going to be an idiot about this...

Today's drink was the Pernod cocktail. Again, I made it with Lucid absinthe; given that Pernod was originally an absinthe, I feel like I'm on firm ground with this switch.

The drink was initially a bit much. Lucid's incredibly strong licorice flavor completely overwhelmed the sugar and bitters. However, when the ice melted, the cocktail became milder and more flavorful.

Pernod Cocktail
(from The Ultimate A-to-Z Bar Guide)

2 to 3 teaspoons water
2 to 4 dashes Angostura bitters
1/4 teaspoon powdered sugar
2 ounces Pernod

Put first three ingredients into chilled old-fashioned glass; stir well. Fill glass with crushed ice; add Pernod, stirring well.

Tequila Ghost

Tequila is growing on me. Because of some unfortunate events early in my college career, I've never been a big fan of the stuff; even now, the smell of cheap tequila makes my stomach roil.

Still, I've since discovered that the world of tequila extends far beyond Jose Cuervo and his buddy Cuervo Especiale. Sauza Reposado Hornitos Tequila isn't the best stuff I've ever drunk, but it is pretty tasty, and I'm generally pleased with it.

On the other hand, I love absinthe, and Lucid is a pretty solid brand. Consequently, when I began my quest for cocktail knowledge, I was pleased to discover that there are a lot of absinthe recipes out there. In fact, I'd argue that the lore surrounding the stuff may pale in comparison to the drinks that it has inspired.

I'm sure that there are many, many delicious absinthe cocktails; unfortunately, the tequila ghost isn't one of them. In the course of the next few months, I'm undoubtedly going to try something more revolting than the this drink, but that knowledge didn't make the ghost any more palatable.

Honestly, it's hard to imagine how anything could be more horrible than this foul, unspeakable concoction. Composed of lemon juice, tequila, and absinthe, the ghost brings out the worst of each of its constituent ingredients. The lemon hits hard and sour, followed by the overwhelming anise flavor of the absinthe. As a capper, the funky aftertaste of tequila adds a certain nauseating tone to the proceedings. Basically, this is a practical joke -- truly repulsive at every step of the way.

For the first time, I poured most of my drink down the drain.

Tequila Ghost
(from The Ultimate A-to-Z Bar Guide)

2 ounces tequila
1 ounce Pernod or other anise-flavored liqueur
1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice

Shake ingredients with ice; strain into chilled old-fashioned glass over ice cubes. Drink one swig. Grimace. Try again, just in case. Grimace again. Try one more time, because booze isn't cheap and there are probably teetotaling college kids in Ethiopia who really, really could use the stuff. Grimace one last time and throw the crap down the drain. Brush your teeth twice.

Artillery Cocktail

After I blew a chunk of change on the ingredients for the Rosita, I realized that my goal of making a new cocktail every night could conceivably get me into a lot of trouble. My solution was to take stock of all the booze in my liquor cabinet, find all the drinks that I could make, and work my way through them before buying more hooch. As I finished bottles, I would replace them, and as I ran out of available drinks, I would add to my selection. Over all, it seemed to me that this was the only way to avoid going broke on this venture.

Apart from the vermouth, Campari, and tequila that I picked up during my Rosita buying spree, I had the following (all in fifths):
1/4 bottle of Rogue Gin
3/4 bottle of New Amsterdam Gin
1 bottle of Llord's creme de menthe
1 bottle of Hiram Walker creme de cacao
3/4 bottle of Lucid Absinthe
1/3 bottle of ouzo
1 bottle Cynar
1 bottle Aperol
1 bottle Harvey's Bristol Cream
1 bottle each homemade honey, lime, and blueberry liqueurs
1 bottle Santa Clara rompope
1 small flask Zubrowka Polish grass vodka

It was an odd list, and I had gathered it in my normal, disorganized way. The flask of Polish grass vodka was an engagement gift from my wife, and I've regularly refilled it over the years. The Bristol Cream, creme de menthe, and creme de cacao were all part of various recipes, and the rompope was an impulse buy, based on the fact that I like egg-based liqueurs. I made the honey, blueberry and lime liqueurs last year, when I was able to get grain alcohol from Connecticut. The Cynar and Aperol both came from one frenzied visit to the liquor store, when I felt the need to find the weirdest booze in the joint. The Rogue gin -- which is really good, by the way -- came courtesy of a Rogue representative who wanted me to review it for a blog, and the New Amsterdam was purchased after a taste testing at the same local liquor store.

At any rate, my bar was -- as I might expect -- well stocked with the bizarre, while decidedly lacking in the mundane necessities (like rum, vodka, whiskey...). Luckily, The Ultimate A-to-Z Bar Guide was chock full of gin recipes, which meant that I would be able to go a while before I had to buy anything else.

The artillery cocktail is simplicity itself. Kissing cousin to the martini, it is two parts gin and one part sweet vermouth, shaken and strained. It is a beautiful taupe color and looks particularly sophisticated in a cocktail glass. In terms of taste, it is slightly fruity and slightly sweet with a gin kick that let's you know that you aren't screwing around. All in all, a nice drink.

Oddly enough, there are a bunch of gin and sweet vermouth cocktails. With a cherry garnish, it is called a "Gypsy cocktail" or a "club cocktail." With an orange slice, it's called a "Homestead."

Artillery Cocktail
(from The Ultimate A-to-Z Bar Guide)

2 ounces gin
1 ounce sweet vermouth

Shake ingredients with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass.