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.

Tom Collins

In 1874, The Great Tom Collins Hoax spread through New York, Pennsylvania, and various other areas in the eastern United States. Basically, a guy would walk up to a mark and ask if he'd seen Tom Collins. The mark, of course, would say no, after which the jokester would tell him that Collins was saying all sorts of nasty things about him. Eventually, the mark would lose his temper. Newspapers got into the fun, reporting appearances of the elusive Collins in various cities.

The Gettysburg Compiler wrote this transcript of the basic Tom Collins patter:

"Have you seen Tom Collins?"

"If you haven't, perhaps you had better do so, and as quick as you can, for he is talking about you in a very rough manner--calling you hard names and altogether saying things about you that are rather calculated to induce people to believe there is nothing you wouldn't steal short of a red hot stove. Other little things of that nature he is openly speaking in public places, and as a friend [...] we think you ought to take some notice of them and of Mr. Collins."

There are a few lessons here:
1. The world used to be a much smaller place.
2. Practical jokes are a lot different in places that don't have firearms.
3. Old-time jokes didn't always have punchlines.
4. Once upon a time, people did, indeed, talk like those "high pants talking fast" guys on The Family Guy. Horseradish!

At any rate, the development of the Tom Collins in 1876 was undoubtedly related to the Tom Collins hoax. Created by Jerry Thomas, "the father of American mixology," the original recipe was as follows:

Tom Collins

(use small bar glass)
Take 5 or 6 dashes of gum syrup
Juice of a small lemon
One large wine-glass of Gin
2 or 3 lumps of ice;

Shake up well and strain into a large bar-glass. Fill up the glass with plain soda-water and imbibe while it is lively.

Again, a few lessons, largely about the amount of alcohol that people used to consume in the 1870's. Jesus.

At any rate, my (much smaller) Tom Collins was very refreshing and very tart. I'm used to a little more sweetness, and might add a mite more sugar in the future, but it made a nice, lemony summer drink. This has nudged the Gin Rickey aside as my favorite drink thus far.

Tom Collins
(from The Ultimate A-to-Z Bar Guide

2 ounces gin
1 ounce fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon powdered sugar
cold club soda
lemon slice
maraschino cherry

Combine first three ingredients in chilled Tom Collins glass; stir well. Add 3 to 4 ice cubes and top with club soda, stirring gently. Garnish with lemon slice and maraschino cherry.

Negroni

The Negroni is the last Campari drink that I currently have the makings for, and may well be the best-tasting one thus far. If I ever had to drink Campari -- I mean, if I was given a choice between being sodomized by a blue whale and drinking Campari -- this is the drink that I would choose. Campari still tastes like ass, but the Negroni makes it almost palatable.

The Negroni also has a pretty cool pedigree. It is allegedly named after General Pascal Olivier Count de Negroni, a French army officer and nobleman who fought in the Franco-Prussian war, was personally decorated by Emperor Louis Napoleon, and was commander of the Legion of Honor. Along the way, he also created this drink.

Other reports state that it was named after Camillo Negroni, a Florentine who always ordered the drink. The Ultimate A-to-Z Bar Guide halves the difference between the stories, claiming that Count Camillo Negroni asked a Florentine bartender to add gin to his Americano.

Call me a snob, but I like the General Negroni story better. There's something about the Louis Napoleon twist that makes the story way cooler.

Either way, this is yet another drink that calls for a lemon twist. In my search for the proper way to make a lemon twist, I found all sorts of complicated methods involving toothpicks, freezers, and hours of preparation. Ultimately, I decided to go with slicing a lemon, cutting off the peel with a paring knife, and giving it a firm twist. It ended up releasing a little bit of the essential oils and making a wonderful garnish.

Negroni
(from The Ultimate A-to-Z Bar Guide)

3/4 ounce gin
3/4 ounce Campari
3/4 ounce sweet or dry vermouth
cold club soda, optional
lemon twist

Stir liquid ingredients with ice; strain into chilled cocktail glass; add splash of soda, if desired. Or combine liquid ingredients in an old-fashioned glass filled with ice cubes; add a splash of soda, if desired. Garnish either style with lemon twist.

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.

Maurice

Some people call it Maurice...

Essentially a Bronx cocktail with bitters, the origins of the Maurice appear to have become lost in the fog of time. Regardless, it's a cool drink with a cool name, although I'd expect something named "Maurice" (whoop, whoo) to, perhaps, be a little more playful.

Maurice was also my maternal grandfather's name, although he pronounced it "Morris." Speaking of Maurice Kramer, I recently told one of his daughters, my Aunt Evie, about the "Bruce and Mr. Boston" project. She was initially pretty interested, but quickly began to lecture me about the dangers of demon rum -- or, more specifically, the dangers of getting drunk every night in the course of the search for greater wisdom. I pointed out that I'm only making one cocktail per night, that I've never had any sort of drinking problem, and that I'm obviously smart enough to stop if the project starts to go awry. I'm not sure she was reassured.

At any rate, the Maurice is cool, sweet, and tasty. Light and slightly frosty, with rich undertones, it makes a refreshing summer drink. I wonder if Aunt Evie would like it?

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

1 ounce gin
1/2 ounce dry vermouth
1/2 ounce sweet vermouth
1/2 ounce fresh orange juice
2 dashes Angostura bitters

Shake ingredients with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass.

Black Velvet

I generally don't go for beer cocktails all that much, but our friends Jen and Joey, who recently visited us, are huge beer fans. They left behind a fridge full of Guinness, which left Virginia and I with a quandary. On the one hand, we both love Guinness; on the other hand, the heavy, rich stuff often makes us feel bloated after a few sips.

Virginia's solution was to introduce me to one of her favorite mixed beer drinks, a layered Guinness/pear cider concoction called the black velvet. Since the beer selections are limited in the Bronx, we picked up some Woodchuck pear cider on a trip to Manhattan. Unfortunately, we got it up at a Gristedes supermarket, which means that we each had to sell a kidney.

To be honest, it was worth it, as the black velvet is one of the best-named drinks imaginable. The cider cuts the thickness and strong flavor of the Guinness, evening out the rough patches and making it smooth as...well, velvet. Filling, comforting, and tasty, it's the perfect drink for fall evenings -- or even summer evenings when you have a fridge full of Guinness.

According to Wikipedia, a true black velvet is made from Guinness and champagne, while my wife's concoction would more accurately be called a "Poor man's black velvet."

Black Velvet
(courtesy of my wife Virginia)

8 ounces Guinness
8 ounces pear cider

Fill a large pilsner glass halfway with chilled pear cider and layer the other half with chilled Guinness. Serve immediately.

Incidentally, layering the two might be pretty hard. My only suggestion is that practice makes perfect, and my only condolence is that drinking your mistakes is a lot of fun!

Americano

Campari is a bitter, bright red aperitif that was created in the 1860's by Gaspare Campari, an Italian bartender. James Bond has been known to drink Campari, and it shows up in Fellini films, Duras novels, and Primus songs. It is Steve Zissou's favorite drink and one of the only English words that Bang Bang speaks in The Brothers Bloom; this seems to suggest that Wes Anderson is a big fan of the stuff, although I'd prefer to believe that he just makes use of it for its pop culture flair.

There is no doubt that Campari is pretty cool right now. Lady Gaga featured it in one of her videos, as did Christina Aguilera. The Pogues namechecked it, Rihanna's backup singers drink it, and Jessica Biel is the company's 2009 Calendar girl. It also has a supremely cool website.

Pedigree, bright color, reasonable price, and cool literary currency: in many ways, Campari seems to have it all. Given that, I tried to like the stuff. Unfortunately, for all my efforts, I kept bumping my head against two basic truths:

1. Campari tastes like a smoker's mouth the morning after a major bender, with a slight hint of novocaine.

2. It is truly one of the foulest flavors imaginable. I totally hate it.

Even so, I drank all of my Americano, and will undoubtedly work my way through the rest of the Campari recipes in my various bartenders guides. I will try very, very hard to like the stuff.

The Americano was first made in Gaspare Campari's bar, not long after the aperitif was developed. Its original name, the Milano-Torino, celebrated the fact that the two main ingredients came from Italian towns. Milano supplied the Campari and Torino supplied the sweet vermouth. Later, when it became clear that American tourists were drawn to the drink, the cafe renamed it in honor of its new benefactors.

It is a decent drink as far as Campari drinks go, which means that it is absolutely beautiful to look at. It tastes better than a tequila ghost, but not quite as good as the sweaty asscrack of a Russian cab driver.

Americano
(from The Ultimate A-to-Z Bar Guide)

1 1/2 ounces sweet vermouth
1 1/2 ounces Campari
Cold club soda
lemon or orange slice

Pour vermouth and Campari into chilled highball glass filled with ice cubes; add club soda, stirring gently. Garnish with lemon or orange slice.