The Martinez

There's a new Spring drink menu at Red Feather, and among the standard classics in the cannon this season stands the Martinez.


If you haven't tried a Martinez in your drinking career just yet, I suggest you do. It's a sublime, sweet drink that will shake up...er... stir up your ideas about what really makes a good cocktail. Not only is it robust and interesting to drink, but it's history served up. Here's the recipe we're using at Red Feather:

The Martinez
1 1/4 oz. Plymouth Gin
1 3/4 oz. Carpano Antica Formula
2 dashes Fee Brother's Orange Bitters
1 splash Maraschino

On the off chance that any of you are wondering if by "Maraschino" I mean that sticky, vapid red juice from those equally vapid red things in your garnish tray, think again. Maraschino Liquor is distilled directly from the Marasca cherry and takes on a hot, dry flavor. Maraschino also provides the interesting kick in the original daiquiri, but that's a different post.

On the note of ingredients in this drink, is anyone else in Boise using Carpano Antica Formula red vermouth yet? I'm sitting here trying to think of a single cocktail that contains vermouth that doesn't demand the highest possible quality, and I'm telling you that good vermouth is always important. This one happens to be the best I've ever tried, and in this application it is truly surreal.

The Martinez is widely considered the first stab at the gin martini by people who have done the research; the use of sweet vermouth being far more popular at the turn of the century, as well as the orange bitters. We've turned the Martini into something strange and nondescript in the last several years, taking both the vermouth and bitters out of the equation, sometimes completely, and often filling a cocktail glass full with cold vodka. I wish we would have stayed with the Martinez.

I take sick pleasure in subjecting my bar staff to drinks that no one will ever ask for on the off chance that we can develop a following for them. And so we spent about 20 minutes yesterday talking through the Martinez and its history. If you're a regular at Red Feather, don't be surprised next time you sit down if there's a Martinez in front of you before you have the chance to order. Here's what it looks like:

Aroma

I had the opportunity to schmooze with Audrey Saunders a few months ago, but because I lack the pelotas, I chickened out. Instead, I just kind of stared her down from across the room, much like you might expect from a crazy blogger type, which I am not.

I mention Audrey because she's one of my big inspirations for much of what I'm doing with aroma these days. They say that smelling is around 80% of tasting, and as bar movements take us in a more culinary direction, the nose will help us determine balance in drinks if we learn to use the products we probably already have in our kitchens and bars with their respective aromas in mind. And while it's tempting to make your cocktail's aromatic components the same as their flavor components, (lemon bitters and lemon juice.. for example,) I like trying aromas that directly compliment the drink's components. Here's a great author for flavor pairing guidance, and here are some interesting fall pairings to experement with:

Gin and Star Anise
Bourbon and Peach
Pear and Freshly cracked Black Pepper
Rosemary and Blood Orange
Green Apple and Clove
Molasses and Roasted Pumpkin
Rose and Pomegranate
Highland Scotch and Meyer Lemon

I want to make one snarky note about the use of aromatics before giving some examples. In any craft, there often comes a point when a project's form completely defies its function. This happens in drink-making when we get carried away with a crazy flaming garnish or method of consumption. (I don't want to drink a cocktail that seems like it was designed by Yoko Ono. I'm not climbing a ladder or drinking through an eleven foot burdock root, for example.) It's important to consider this with aromatics; make it simple and ergonomic and contextual for drinking and it will work. I'm reminded of having a "Chanel no. 5" champagne cocktail invented by the very talented, but lost me on this one, Tony Conigliaro. Although the drink is extremely interesting and the level of craft involved in its creation is impressive to say the least, do I want to drink Chanel no. 5? I don't even like smelling it, let alone smelling it and drinking it. Ew.

The drinks pictured here are photographed with garnishes that are specifically designed to surprise the nose when approaching the drink. We refer to this moment of approach frequently when designing new cocktails because it's key in the first impression of their flavors. My Herbal Idaho (left) is garnished with freshly cut basil leaves wrapped in orange peel. Roll up the basil, slice it diagonally, and arrange it so that the cut portions of the leaves are facing up. Wrap and skewer as pictured.

The Cruiser (above) is a simple meyer lemon fizz topped with Peychaud's bitters and a fresh rosemary ring. This is another simple and effective use of fresh herbs and bitters for aroma. You can even break a few of the rosemary needles to release more fragrance.

Another drink on our menu is the Pepperbox Cocktail (right) which is an applejack-based cocktail with a thin slice of apple floating on top of the egg foam. Freshly cracked black pepper corns lay on top of the apple slice. The garnish is the only spicey flavor, though people often ask if there's actually pepper in the drink because the smell of freshly cracked pepper is so intense when you're that close to it.

If you're serving drinks at a party or bar, try something as simple as putting the drink in front of your friend/patron/potential paramour, and zesting a lemon or orange on top of the glass right in front of them. Of course, avoid zesting in their eyes since it will not improve the drink or your reputation at all... you will be surprised by how many people will act as though they've never had a Cosmopolitan before when they take their first sip and smell all of that fresh lemon oil. Another trick I've heard of, though I've never tried, is to scent your swizzle sticks with essential oils or by steeping them in hydrosols. There are many ways to make drinks more interesting. While we work in a culture that is obsessed with molecular this-and-that, flavored vodka, and energy drinks, we've forgotten one thing every person has... a nose! My philosophy is to use what I have first, then try and change the craft to incorporate the use of agar agar or get speedy from taurine while slowing on GABA inhibitors.

Fever of the Mad

I visited New Orleans in July for the 5th Annual Tales of the Cocktail conference and spent most of my four days there drunk or getting drunk. Luckily for you, this is not the kind of blog where we chronicle a bunch of stuff that happened and what was said, since it's a bit of a blur. One evening of late night shots containing Lucid Absinthe and white peach nectar is worth mentioning, however, since by that drunken inspiration was born the Fever of the Mad...

The Fever of the Mad is a drink that reminds me about the basic point in mixing quality drinks: Put two flavors together that help each other make sense. White peach and anise are great examples. And although the drink is mine, I wish I'd though of the pairing on my own. Credit in this case goes to that hot piece of a bartender from Milk & Honey (the best bar in the world,) who was mixing drinks in a suite at the Hotel Monteleone for all of us drunken conference goers at 5 in the morning.

It's easy to forget this basic principle of quality bar cheffery when surrounded by Coca-Cola Caviar and Gin & Tonic Jelly Cubes. Don't get me wrong, there's a time and a place and an application for Cognac Foam... but don't we have so many ingredients that we haven't used correctly yet? The Fever of the Mad is simple. Anise on the front, peach on the back, soft, almost fuzzy texture... I'm going to post about some fun Molecular Barstronomy in a future piece, but for now, I'm going to focus on learning how to pair flavors sans calcium chloride or xanthan.

Fever of the Mad

1/4 oz. Fresh Lemon Juice
1/3 oz. Herbsaint or Absinthe
2 oz. quality London Dry Gin
1 oz. scoop of Peach Sorbet*
3 dashes of Fee Brother's Peach Bitters (not pictured.. I forgot)

Shake until sorbet dissolves into cocktail, serve up.

*At Red Feather bar, we use sorbet like a lot of places use flavor syrups. While Monin and a few others do a nice job with flavor syrups, (and while you can make them yourself quite simply with some sugar, citric acid, fresh fruit, and boiling water,) sorbets usually contain less sugar, more residual real fruit, and more fresh flavor. They're also cold and assist in adding texture to cocktails. If you have a full-time bar manager, it's worth it to add this prep chore to his list. It's not hard or expensive, and it's totally worth it.

South American Vehicles of Drunkenness, Part 1

I write today as a lover of both South America and booze. Among my favorite South American boozes is pisco, a woody brandy made from the Muscat or Quebranta grapes Peru and Chile. I've probably consumed 20 pisco sours in the previous week, so I'll provide my perfected recipe after subjecting you to a shotgun history of this bebida.

Pisco is the enchanted spirit child of the people of Peru, and is actually the product of ancient wine snobbery; the discarded grapes not considered export-worthy for the production of wine were harvested by the field workers and fermented to make pisco. The fever for pisco spread as settlers and other travelers came and went through the growing region, and took pisco with them to drink on their respective joureys. When trade with Spain ceased in the mid-1600s, wine production ceased as well and only a few small pisco producers remained. The Pisco Sour was born abroad and became popular among traveling Americans and Europeans and helped revive the production of pisco.

Although both the Peruvians and the Chileans claim to hold the origin of pisco in their history, its name comes from the Quechua word pisqu, which translates in English as either little bird, or the name of a spiritual clay urn used by the Quechuan people, (there is much dispute over just about everything relating to pisco.) The Quechuan people resided in what is modern-day Ecuador/North Peru; not as far south as Chile although at the time the lands of present-day Chile and Peru were part of the same viceroyalty under the control of Spain. The Pisco growing region is in Peru today, but when it was first produced, neither Peru nor Chile even existed... and so in my book, geography wins and the spirit is referred to as Peruvian today.

Here's my recipe:
2 oz. Pisco
3/4 oz. lemon or key lime
1/4 oz. simple syrup
1 splash of fresh, pulp-free orange juice
1 egg white
Shake until you feel substantial pain in your arm. Strain up. Add a dash of angostura bitters or, if you can get it, Amargo Bitters...

The orange juice is my addition and is merely of cosmetic assistance to the drink; orange juice froths up beautifully when shaken with egg white. I think it's a reasonable modification, though there's no OJ in a traditional Pisco Sour. I put orange juice in every sour I make as I think lemon juice sweetened with sugar alone is still too jarring a combination. Orange juice is somewhere between sweet and tart, and provides a mellower solution to the sourness of lemon.

Let's talk mixers.

Drinkers are becoming more and more aware of what goes into their bodies, (and sometimes comes right back out,) during a night of boozing. At least I hope so.


As a bartender, I always found it strange that people would obsess over the brand of gin in their Gin & Tonic, but never ask a question about the damn tonic. I believe culinary movements geared toward natural, local, sourcable, and organic ingredients are spreading from the philosophical discussions between chefs and restaurateurs to the every-day diner... and maybe the drinker, too? I personally do not want to drink a glass of tonic sweetened with high fructose corn syrup that's going to poison my body more than the liquor itself. Give me the damn liquor poisoning!

The extremely high consumer demand for products that contain hydrogenated corn oils and high fructose corn syrup is also part of our fuel crisis; farming and transporting enough corn to make oils and syrups so that we can all die a little more quickly, either by breathing bad air or loosing our ability to breathe all together because we're so damn fat.

Getting back to the original point... how long will it take for bar programs to realize that quality non-alcoholic is just as important as quality spirits? Not just for ethical and moral reasons, but from the standpoint of flavor too. Every component of the cocktail is of equal importance, right? I'd rather pay another buck to get a quality tonic from Fever Tree (great stuff and all-natural... but not close. Quinine content this high must come from the UK,) or a natural Boylan's cola. Next time you sit down to have a drink, ask the bartender how he feels about mixers. I'm curious to know if anyone else cares...

Sazerac and "Sazerac"

As you can see, I am a poor photographer and my camera sucks. Not like you're missing much. This is a supposed Sazerac made with Lemon Bitters and Sweet Vermouth to boot. Hell, let's just throw some Fresca in there while we're at it.

Even more boggling is why such a well-known spot for cocktail drinkers would put the name of the drink on the menu without the drink actually being the drink! (?) Does this annoy anyone else? This is a common sin among bartenders I know, and I think it's a topic worth discussing at some point: When is a name already a drink, and therefore out of the pool of potential drink names? The Sazerac is obviously already taken. But what about... say... The Knikerbocker? A more obscure drink, but still printed in one of the most famous drink books ever published, and before that, published in every good bartender's bible. How many times have you seen The Kinckerbocker on a drink menu? And how many times has it been the actual drink?

Getting back to the point, The Sazerac is the greatest model for cocktails that do not contain juice. It is balanced, strong, simple, and proven. Try one at Red Feather in Boise or any hotel bar in New York. (They're surprisingly bad in the cocktail's origin, New Orleans...) and you'll understand why the Sazerac is still on great cocktail menus, (and some not-so-great cocktail menus) today.

Old Lore (whatever the hell that is,) tells us that the drink was probably invented in early-1800s New Orleans by Antoine Amedei Peychaud, the proprietor of Peychaud's Aromatic Bitters. Long story short, the drink became a staple at the nearby Sazerac Coffeehouse, and took its name shortly thereafter. At this time, the drink was made with Cognac and drops of absinthe. In 1870ish, a feller named Thomas Handy bought up the Sazerac Coffeehouse and started making the drink with Rye. The use of absinthe in the Sazerac is one of the only examples of pre-prohibition anisette cocktails.

Sazerac:
2 oz. Old Overholt Rye
1 healthy splash of simple syrup
3 dashes of Peychaud's bitters
Stir.
Rinse a chilled old fashioned glass with Absinthe or Herbsaint.
Strain. Zest a tiny peel of lemon over the drink and discard.

Drink quickly, "While it's still laughing at you."

So it's come to this...

Here we have two drinks from a semi-local suburbian restaurant & bar. The first is a butchered attempt at Cory Reistad's San Francisco variation on the Sidecar... cleverly called the Cable Car, and the second is something with FRESCA! (I could hardly wait to type the word.) Tanqueray Rangpur, Grand Marnier, FRESCA! and a twist of lemon. Ahem. FRESCA?!

One of my favorite stories about fabulous trashy bar patrons was relayed to me by a good friend who works downtown. He told me about this woman who ordered round after round of freaky tequila, red bull, and lemon juice cocktails in various ratios. She finally gave up, drunk off her wedges, and just said, "If you get it just right, it tastes just like Smirnoff Ice and Fresca!"... (please see below)

The Trashy Lady in Wedges (not the real drink name,) tastes a lot like what you might expect from a drink made of three very sweet components by a day bartender. Meh.

I love the Cable Car. And since I'm a total bitch, I ordered it off the menu because I was certain it was going to be wrong. The ingredients listed Pyrat as the rum (fancy, but it's not spiced,) and it was syrupy and schlep, using sour mix (or way too little lemon juice,) and about a quart of Grand Marnier.

I recently heard a great barman by the name of James Meehan say something interesting about the Cable Car. He said that people have forgotten the value of really simple drinks with components that anybody can get ahold of. Drinks like the Cable Car are making it possible for bars everywhere to have good drinks on their menus with limited and easily managed inventories. They're also making bartenders like Cory Reistad famous...

Here's how I like the Cable Car:

1.5 oz Spiced Rum, (I like Sailor Jerry's)
.5 oz. Cointreau or a good triple sec
Fresh lemon juice to taste (I like about .5 oz)
Shake. Serve up in a glass with a sugary rim.

Try one of these at Bardenay or Bittercreek in Boise... Or, if you're in San Francisco, try one at the Starlite Room in the Sir Francis Drake Hotel.

Thoroughly Modern.

My good friend Elizabeth Tullis recently opened the Modern hotel in the pre-populated area of downtown knows as The Linen District. The Modern is a very straightforward project; Guest rooms and bar, mid-century theme, named after her grandmother's establishment of the same philosophy and name, 60 years later.
Among the project's many bragging rights is the Modern Bar, staffed by good bartenders and showing the promise of a good drink program. Newcomer to the Boise bar scene Michael Bowers, and bar veteran Kevin Baker (I think from the late Hanger bar on 6th & Main,) take the majority of shifts behind Modern's bar. On the night of my visit, Michael was working.

I know Micahel Bowers personally, and so when I sat down around 10 p.m. on a Monday night and asked him to just make whatever he'd been working on, he wasn't surprised. Among the several drinks I consumed at Modern that night was the drink in the photo above. Something with Grey Goose's new pear vodka (le peore or poire or some mouthful of vowels like that,) fresh sage, Galliano, and citrus juices. Pear and Sage are flavors in love, and this drink is a nice example of why. Way to go, Michael.

Check out the Modern's website or visit them in person on the corner of 14th and Grove, Linen District.