For this month’s Mixology Monday, Rick over at Kaiser Penguin has chosen the theme Limit One as a nod to those classic tiki drinks that came with such a warning label attached. Of course, this had less to do with the patron’s concern for the customer’s well-being and more to do with marketing and generating what today we would call “buzz”. I believe the first drink to bear this warning was Don the Beachcomber’s Zombie, but many followed in this vein, normally mixing enormous quantities of different rums together to make drinks that would leave you hung-over if you happened to glance in their direction.

I didn’t want to do a tiki drink, because I reckon that about 80% of this month’s entries will be tiki, so I’m going to talk about the Papa Doble, even though I actually already covered it way back in June last year. If you read that post you’ll notice that I highlight a discrepancy with that recipe, because it contains the same amount of rum as a regular Daiquiri, yet the drink supposedly owes part of its name to being a double.

This Drinkboy forum thread has a convincing explanation in the form of a different recipe to the one I originally posted, this one from a book called Papa Hemingway - A Personal Memoir by A.E. Hotchner. Actually, I recommend you read the Amazon extract of that book to get a little vignette both of Hemingway and also of Havana back in the good old days.

Back to the recipe, this new one comes in at a sturdy 4 ounces (well, 3 3/4, but I rounded up) of rum, which is about twice as much as a normal Daiquiri takes, and also twice as much lime juice, so it now passes the “double” test. As well as much more grapefruit juice, another variation is that this drink is blended, whereas I mixed up the first version in a shaker.

So how does it measure up? Well, it’s not that different from just making two of my first recipe, but somehow it’s missing something. I’m going to notch it up to the fact that it’s still winter, and you really need to be in the searing heat to fully enjoy this ice-cold wonder…

Recipe:

4 oz. White Rum
2 oz. Lime juice
1 oz. Grapefruit juice
1/4 oz. Maraschino liqueur

Blend with 3/4 cup of crushed ice and serve in a large goblet.

Notes:

Very cold, sour and bitter. A killer combination in the summer, but maybe overkill in March.

Rating:

- Make the smaller version, at least that way you can have twice as many…

Head on over to Kaiser Penguin to see the rest of this Monday’s entries.

The Rob Roy. It’s a name that brings back memories. You see, my father is Scottish and, probably due partly to that, I ended up spending my university years in Scotland – in Stirling, if you care.

Rob Roy was one of the best-known heroes of auld Scotland, along with William Wallace and Robert the Bruce. There is even a Hollywood film made about his life, starring Liam Neeson, although it didn’t reach the peaks of fame that William Wallace’s life story, Braveheart, did.

Nevertheless, he was definitely a character and, as such, his memory lives on in many forms. One that comes to mind is a pub in down-town Stirling where I think I went once as a student, never to return. I don’t recommend it. Another is the Rob Roy cocktail.

Now, with the heritage I described above, you’d think I would enjoy a dram of fine Scotch Whisky on occasion, but the uncomfortable truth is that I never liked it. Decided to get over this childish dislike of an obviously character-building drink, and having read that all you need to start liking things you used to hate is just to try them enough times, I recently invested in a bottle of single-malt scotch and went to work.

First I poured a measure into a small glass, because that’s apparently how you’re supposed to drink scotch. Then, I tried adding a splash of spring water, to open the flavor, apparently. I then added some ice, because on the rocks is such a cool expression. Finally, I added some seltzer, because anyone who’s anyone drinks Scotch & Soda.

It didn’t work. I still don’t like scotch. But having a full bottle of something is remarkable motivation, so I set out to find a use for it. Now, there aren’t many scotch cocktails, and the best-known is probably the Rob Roy, so it seemed like a good place to start. The remarkable similarity to my trusted Manhattan didn’t hurt either.

The verdict? Difficult question. I’m still not over the moon about scotch, I find its character is too pushy and dominates any drink that uses it in any significant quantity. Still, it’s definitely more palatable to someone like me who doesn’t normally like scotch. I did finish it quite quickly, which says something.

Recipe:

2 oz. Scotch Whisky
1 oz. Italian Vermouth
2 dashes Angostura Bitters

Stir everything together in a mixing glass and pour into a cocktail glass.

Notes:

As I mentioned above, the flavour profile of the scotch shines through the drink, although much more subtly than drinking it alone. For me this was pretty cool because I was identifying tastes and smells that I usually only read about in tasting notes.

Rating:

- Not bad, considering…

Urban folklore places the phrase may you live in interesting times as an old Chinese curse. The implication is, of course, that if your life is anything other than peaceful and predictable, then the interesting events are probably not good.

Bearing this nugget of information in mind, I’ll tell you that the Chelada is an interesting drink. This one comes from Mexico and, judging from what I’ve been able to find, is fairly popular. The idea is that beer on its own is boring, which is actually pretty much right on the money if we’re talking about Mexican light beer. To give it a little more zing you first add ice to keep it really cold, and then add some lime juice and salt to give it a little more bite.

Weird, huh? It gets worse. The above combination is what gets called a Chelada, and is actually not as bad as it seems as long as you don’t go overboard with the salt. There is a more sinister variation that calls for pretty much anything hot or spicy that you can find. There is no fixed recipe since each person makes it as they prefer, much like a Spanish Sangría. I have seen versions calling for Worcestershire sauce, soy sauce (you can use it instead of salt) and many different kinds of hot sauce, among other ingredients — I found it interesting that some recommend you don’t use Tabasco, since it adds too much flavour to the resulting drink when all you want is to feel your mouth burning. This monster version is called a Michelada.

There are also variations in the beer you should use. Whereas most people will probably use Corona (Coronita in Spain) or Sol, a decent version can apparently be made using Negra Modelo, a dark beer made by the same folks as Corona. And I haven’t even begun to enumerate additional ingredients like Clamato, etc. You can find a bunch of versions in the Wikipedia Michelada entry. I found the Manuchelada to be especially disturbing because of how complicated the preparation seems.

Recipe:

Juice of 2 limes
1 bottle Mexican Beer
salt

Rim a pint glass with the salt and fill with ice. Squeeze the limes into the glass and fill with the beer.

For a Michelada add:

Hot sauce to taste (I used some Portuguese piri-piri sauce, a chilli pepper-based hot sauce).
Soy sauce to taste.
Worcestershire sauce to taste.

Notes:

There isn’t much to say, really. The Chelada on its own was ok, if a bit strange. But I can imagine getting the palate used to the interplay of lager and lime juice. The Michelada is reminiscent of a Bloody Mary, but much lighter. It’s not a bad drink per se, I just can’t imagine a situation where I’d prefer it over anything else.

Rating:

- Icy Spicy Beer. As odd as it sounds, but cool to whip up as a party trick for people who think they’ve had it all.

I’m on a bit of a Beachbum Berry run here, since acquiring a batch of his books. You’ll have to forgive me, and rest assured I will stop before I get to plagiarism.

Today I bring the Fog Cutter, another Tiki standard from Victor ‘Trader Vic‘ Bergeron. In his Grog Log, the Bum quotes Trader Vic as saying: “Fog Cutter, hell. After two of these you won’t even see the stuff,” and there’s no doubt that it’s a potent mix. Two ounces of rum in a cocktail can already be considered a generous serving. If on top of that you add another ounce and a half of hooch, you get something pretty explosive. And I haven’t counted the float yet.

There were a few reasons for trying this one out. Firstly, it’s a classic in its realm. Also I had all the ingredients, which is pretty rare for most of the Bum’s recipes. Well, with one exception, but I’ll get to that. This includes my latest toy, Orgeat syrup.

The rum mentioned in the book is light Puerto Rican rum, which is a euphemism for Bacardi Carta Blanca. I always substitute a decent rum instead of that particular one, and it’s usually Havana Club Añejo 3 Años. The spicy notes add character to any drink, and it’s probably the most historically correct anyway. There is no note in the book of when the drink was created, but the Bacardi that all these Tiki legends used was made in Cuba in the same distillery and using the same recipe as the current Havana Club. Even if the drink wasn’t created prior to the Cuba embargo, I reckon Trader Vic knew exactly what he was aiming for when he used Bacardi, and this was probably it.

My missing ingredient was sweet sherry, since I usually keep some of that around in the winter. The summer in Spain calls for the dry Fino or Manzanilla varieties of Sherry. I had a reasonable substitute, though, in Málaga Virgen, a sweet fortified wine made from Pedro Ximenez grapes. These grapes are used at least in part in most sweet sherries, and although the wine is missing some of the character of being fortified with sherry brandy, it’s pretty similar.

It wasn’t much of a big deal anyway, because I used sherry brandy in the drink, whereas most people would probably use something from France. So all the elements ended up there, even if the components were a little different.

By the way, have you noticed the photo in this post? I figured that it would be a good idea to start doing that with this new design, you know, to spruce things up. If by sprucing up I mean highlighting my failures, of course.

First of all, you may have noticed I’m not exactly Rick from Kaiser Penguin when it comes to taking pictures of drinks. I hope to improve, but until then you’re stuck with my experiments. Second of all, you see that brown sludge at the bottom of the glass? That’s the float. Yeah, I know, let’s pretend it didn’t happen. And third of all, even though I tried to follow Jeffrey Morgenthaler’s instructions to the letter, my orange twist sucks.

But whatever, I’ll give you the recipe and you can try and do better.

Recipe:

2 oz. Lemon juice
1 oz. Orange juice
1/2 oz. Orgeat Syrup
1 oz. light Rum
1 oz. Brandy
1/2 oz. Gin
1/2 oz. sweet Sherry

Shake everything — except sherry — with ice cubes. Pour into tall tiki mug and add more ice cubes to fill. Float sherry on top of drink.

Notes:

The first time I made the Fog Cutter I skipped the float altogether, and only included it the second time for completeness and the photograph. That didn’t work out too well, and I ended up mixing the float with the rest of the drink, which wasn’t too great.

I’m left without knowing what it’s like made exactly right, but I’ll probably be skipping the float the next times I make it. The cocktail is strong enough without it anyway, and the tartness just right.

Rating:

- A good drink, but too strong to enter my regular rotation.

It’s been a difficult week here at Casa Dave. First, I managed to catch a ‘flu (in August for crying out loud!), and have been on medication for a few days. This has cramped my cocktail style like nobody’s business. If you add to this the descent of my in-laws over our previously peaceful abode, then you’ll be able to appreciate my predicament of wanting to contribute to this round of Mixology Monday without actually being able to get in the mixin’ and drinkin’ mood.

However, I’ve managed to eke out a swift half-hour, from 23:30 to 00:00 on Monday actually, to perform a quick experiment and report back on the results. Ironically, since I’ve been unable to actually try any drinks, I’ve been thinking about this month’s theme quite a lot. The theme is Orange, which is so broad as to be infuriating. What am I after here? A cocktail made of only orange-based ingredients? Any cocktail that has any orange in it? An orange-coloured drink?

I was baffled. Then, while reading my new copy of Beachbum Berry’s Sippin’ Safari, I saw just the drink I was after.

The Hula Hula Cocktail is unusually rum-free for a tiki-style drink. It is also fairly traditional in structure. Created in 1934, this drink comes from Ray Buhen, one of Don the Beachcomber’s original cocktail mixers. The three ingredients are gin, curaçao and orange juice, making this drink the perfect subject for a quick-and-dirty post.

I’ll admit I used blue curaçao in mixing it up, since it’s the only one I have at the moment (hey, the only difference is the food colouring — check out my curaçao page) and it ended up looking very modern and blue. Unfortunately, it was pretty dire. Equal amounts of everything made it taste kind of sludgy, and I had my brain on overdrive thinking of how to save it given that I only had about 10 minutes of my allotted time left.

I had done everything right — a decent gin, Marie Brizard curaçao and fresh orange juice — and still, it wasn’t even an O.K. drink. My first reaction was to add another ounce of orange juice, to try and clear up the mess it left on the palate. It was an improvement, but still too similar to the original. In a flash of inspiration, I added a couple of dashes of bitters and yet another ounce of OJ (hell, the theme is orange, isn’t it?).

That seemed to do the trick. If you ignored the swamp-green colour in the glass, the drink was pretty nice. There was a certain clarity to the flavours that wasn’t there before, and it was distinctively orangey without tasting of oranges. On its own I don’t think it has much future, but as a base for further explorations I think it shows promise.

Sorry to Mr. Buhen, since I know I’ve probably picked a drink he never meant anyone else to taste (the Bum mentions it’s from his personal notebook). Still, I’m happy just to play around with drinks. I’m a bit of a geek that way…

Oh, and it’s a little past midnight here in Spain, but there are still a few more hours of Monday left elsewhere in the world, so I’ll take the leeway and run with it.

Recipe:

1 oz. Gin
1 oz. Curaçao
3 oz. Orange juice (1 oz. in the original)
2 dashes Angostura Bitters (none in the original)

Shake everything together and serve in a (large) cocktail glass.

Notes:

There isn’t much else to say that I haven’t mentioned already in my account above. Maybe with a gin that differs significantly from the “standard”, like Plymouth or maybe even Genever, it might have been different.

Rating:

- Not great on its own, but useful as a base for further experimentation.

Check out the rest of the Mixology Monday entries at Intoxicated Zodiac.

One of the timeless summer classics, the Margarita is a typical example of a decent drink with a bad reputation. When it is well made, with quality ingredients, it is a nice and balanced drink suitable for hot afternoons.

Like many classics, its origin is lost in the mists of time. Robert Hess outlines quite a few of the available stories in the Drinkboy Margarita recipe page. I don’t have enough data to choose any one account as being more likely than the rest, so I won’t bother. However, it’s safe to assume that a 1930’s/40’s origin is likely.

This date can help explain reason why the Margarita became so spectacularly popular, since it coincides both with the beginning of the tiki, and by extension tropical-drink, craze and also with the beginning of the United States’ view of Mexico as a party-place of sorts. The combination of tropical theme and the Mexico angle given by tequila may have pushed this drink over many others to its current status as one of the most well-known cocktails in the world.

But this is all speculation, of course. Maybe part of the appeal is because of people’s view of tequila as an especially nasty spirit, imbuing the Margarita with a certain mystique and aura of danger, and making it intriguing and attractive to many.

Whatever the reason for trying one, many tend to indulge in a few more, due in no small part to the fact that it’s actually not a bad drink. Unfortunately, the morning after ends up being more memorable than the night before.

The components of this potion are as well-known as they are simple — Tequila, lime juice and triple-sec. If you want your drink to be the best it can be, you need to use the best ingredients. To begin with, a 100%-agave tequila, preferably a young tequila with a little bite to it, is essential. The lime juice should be freshly squeezed and not from a bottle. Finally, the triple-sec must be Cointreau, there is no equal.

Finally, the signature of the Margarita is the salt around the rim of the glass. The technique for this is simple. Place some kosher salt in a saucer, run a lime wedge around the edge of the glass and dip the tip of the glass sideways in the saucer until the outside rim is covered in salt. Many places will just put your glass upside down into a plate of salt, but that will result in salt sticking to the inside of the rim as well as the outside. From here it can slide down into your drink making it salty, which is a very undesirable effect.

As to how to combine these ingredients, there are a few accepted ratios. I’ve settled on the 3:2:1 ratio of tequila/Cointreau/lime juice, which Drinkboy also endorses after a suggestion from Gary Regan. Other recipes call for equal parts of all ingredients, or else a 2:1:1 which reduces the sweetness somewhat.

Recipe:

1 1/2 oz. Tequila
1 oz. Cointreau
1/2 oz. Lime juice

Shake everything with ice and strain into a salt-rimmed cocktail glass, or Margarita saucer.

Notes:

Although It’s not a drink I normally consider, it’s status as a classic is indisputable. The taste is really very distinctive and mixing up a few as a party trick will usually get you looks of admiration, especially if you can drink it and not fall over.

Some people recommend making them with Grand Marnier, an orange liqueur with a brandy base, although in those cases the ratios should be modified to accomodate the additional sweetness of the Grand Marnier.

Rating:

- Maybe if I was more of a Tequila connoisseur, I might like it better.

There was some talk recently on the Drinkboy Forums about the Jasmine cocktail. Supposedly a good introduction to both gin and Campari, it’s also an attractive pink colour that fool those friends you have that don’t appreciate good drinking. These might also be swayed by the drink’s uncanny resemblance to grapefruit juice, and might be convinced to use the Jasmine as a gateway drink to further gin and Campari debauchery.

At about the same time, I noticed that Drinkboy himself, Robert Hess, had done a video on the Jasmine also extolling the similarities to grapefruit juice. Well, I can’t lay off if something seems difficult to believe, so I set out to construct one of these mythical creatures.

The result isn’t too bad. The gin is fairly subdued, as you would expect in a drink directed at people who don’t like gin. It is fruity and interesting, though, and pretty nice.

Still, I was left wondering where it is that Mr. Hess buys his Campari-flavoured grapefruit.

Recipe:

1.5 oz. Gin
1 oz. Cointreau
3/4 oz. Campari
1/2 oz. Lemon juice

Shake everything up and serve in a cocktail glass.

Notes:

It still tastes of Campari. I’ll be trying some different versions reducing the Campari in the search for that elusive grapefruit juice taste. Even if I don’t find it, it’s still not bad.

Rating:

- Not bad, but not incredible either.

This post is actually about two different drinks that just happen to share the same name and ingredients. Confused? Read on.

I was actually looking for some information on tiki legend Don the Beachcomber when I came across this cocktail. There are a few recipes out there with the same name, so I used the one I found most frequently. Luckily, it’s also the recipe that used ingredients I had on-hand.

The reason I mention two drinks is that most sources simply call for rum, which has many different incarnations, so I tried mixing up a couple of these with two very different rums to compare the outcome.

The first rum I used was Captain Morgan’s Black Label Jamaica Rum, my default dark rum. I won’t lie to you, it wasn’t great. The balance was off and the rum overpowered everything except the maraschino liqueur, which is almost impossible to tame. The sugar rim worked quite well in improving the drink somewhat, but I still wasn’t impressed.

Not one to accept defeat so readily, I figured I’d try the other rum in my arsenal at the moment, the Havana Club Añejo 3 Años. This light rum is a staple in many cuban drinks, and since the Beachcomber is similar in nature and ingredients, I figured it would work better. I wasn’t mistaken, this new drink was lighter and more refreshing than the previous effort, with the rum and lime working together and the maraschino giving it that touch of bitterness. Altogether a much better drink.

If you’re looking for something similar to a Papa Doble but in a cocktail glass, you could do worse.

Recipe:

1.5 oz. light Rum
0.5 oz. Lime juice
0.5 oz. Cointreau
1/4 tsp. Maraschino Liqueur

Shake everything together with plenty of ice, and serve in a sugar-rimmed cocktail glass.

Notes:

Don’t even think about omitting the sugar rim. Without it, the cocktail is simply too tart, and in a cocktail glass with no ice it’s not going to remain cold enough for this to be a pleasant experience.

Rating:

- A decent, if unadventurous, summer concoction.

Recently, there was some discussion about the Bellini on a spanish-language mailing list I read. I realized that although I know the recipe, I had never actually tried one, and proceeded to correct this shameful situation.

The Bellini is one of these rare classic drinks where the origin is well-known and undisputed. It dates back to 1948, when Giuseppe Cipriani of the world-famous Harry’s Bar in Venice decided to combine the puree of white peaches with the italian sparkling wine Prosecco. The new drink was named after Giovanni Bellini, a 15th-century venetian artist whose paintings were being exhibited somewhere nearby at the time. Incidentally, Harry’s Bar also invented Carpaccio. Not many establishments can claim to have both a world-famous drink and a world-famous dish to their name.

So since peaches are in season from June to September, now’s the time to start mixing them up. The reason I had never bothered with this drink was a combination of not having any champagne around the house, and not having any peach purée either, but by coincidence I had some champagne at home when I read the discussion mentioned above. The peach purée was now the only missing ingredient.

I decided to see how difficult it is to make peach purée before trying to buy some, and I found that Darcy over at The Art of Drink had talked about this very thing back in 2005. The method just involves peaches and a couple of spoonfuls of sugar per peach in a blender at high speed. It’s as easy as it sounds, and a few minutes later I had the purée.

I should point out a couple of details for the purists out there.

First, although I’ve been talking about champagne, the actual wine used should be prosecco, a sparkling wine from Italy made with a different method to the champagne method. Now, I’ve never even bought a bottle of prosecco, so there’s no chance of having that around. What I actually used was Cava, the spanish sparkling wine.

Second, the recipe specifies white peach purée. The original recipe mentions that the variety of peach used should be the italian pesca bianca, a whiteish peach that reddens near the stalk and has a white flesh. I can’t find anything similar in Spain, so I used regular peaches.

Recipe:

2 oz. White peach purée
4 oz. Prosecco (substitute Champagne if unavailable)

Pour the purée into a champagne flute and slowly add the bubbly, stirring carefully so as not to spill anything.

Notes:

Like I mention above, I didn’t actually use the original ingredients, substituting normal peaches for the white peaches, and using cava instead of prosecco. The result was not bad, although of similar-styled drinks I prefer the Mimosa, for example. Next time I’m in Venice, I’ll try it properly made…

Rating:

- Ok, but not really worth the trouble unless its a special occasion.

I’m feeling a bit under the weather today, so today’s recipe is the traditional scottish Hot Toddy.

I remember my father making these for me once or twice when I was younger, but I never did like the taste. As I grew older, I started to appreciate the flavour as well as the “medicinal” qualities. Although this won’t cure you, as some old wives will tell you, it does work well to alleviate throat discomfort.

Since the Hot Toddy comes from Scotland, it should be made with Scotch Whisky. However, pretty much any dark spirit could be substituted. I don’t usually have scotch at home, so I usually use bourbon. You can also try with brandy or a dark rum.

My throat is starting to hurt, so here goes the recipe.

Recipe:

1 oz. Scotch Whisky
1/2 oz. Honey
1/2 oz. Lemon Juice
3 oz. boiling Water

In a cup or mug, first dissolve the honey with a little hot water. Then just add the whisky, lemon juice and the rest of the water and stir well. Make sure to drink while still hot.

Notes:

If you like the spirit you’ve used, you’ll probably enjoy the toddy version. Even though it might seem a little strange at first, I have found it beneficial when I’ve had a sore throat. Play with the proportions too. The ingredients are those I’ve detailed above, but the amounts of each vary wildly from source to source. I’ve written down more or less what I use, but it’s not an exact science.

Also, if you’re taking medicine for a flu, check to see if there’s a problem combining the two. If you can’t take alcohol with the medicine, leave the medicine!
Rating:

- Not a drink I’d have normally, but effective when called for.