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.

It’s been a crazy week weather-wise here in Madrid. The end of the summer has brought a great unpredictability in the weather, and conditions are changing drastically from one day to the next. I’m tempted to say it’s all because of global warming, which would allow me to indulge in the popular hobby of blaming politicians, but Madrid has always been like this at the beginning of autumn (or fall, for those of the American persuasion), so I’ll just enjoy the good days in preparation for the winter.

On one of the warmer days we’ve had this week I found myself looking for something refreshing and new, and while browsing books I found just the thing in David Wondrich’s Killer Cocktails. While conjuring up images of people in comedy moustaches wearing suits and ties at the height of a New York summer, Wondrich introduces us to the Roof Garden Cooler, a drink invented at the Waldorf Hotel in the early twentieth century and designed to keep you cool despite the feeling of being wrapped in a carpet and thrown into an oven.

It’s a very nice tipple on its own merits, and is even more admirable when you consider it’s nothing more than a glorified wine cooler. It’s not too strong, using only vermouth as the alcoholic component, so you can engage in the activity of cooling yourself down without worrying too much about nasty side-effects. Hell, even my wife liked it, so I really can’t fault it.

Recipe:

2 oz. dry Vermouth
1 oz. Lime juice
1/4 -1/2 oz. Simple Syrup (original recipe states 1/2 teaspoon superfine sugar)
1 dash Angostura Bitters
Ginger Ale

Combine all ingredients in a glass, stirring until the sugar is dissolved if you haven’t used simple syrup. Add a few ice cubes and top with ginger ale.

Notes:

There really isn’t much to say, this drink is not too complex, apart from what the vermouth brings to the table.

I was surprised at how refreshing it was without any shaking or crushed ice in sight. Usually a built drink warms up relatively quickly, since it was never as cold to begin with. This one didn’t last long enough for that, though…

Rating:

- Don’t bother being traditional, you can have one while enjoying the air-conditioning.

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.

The Planter’s Punch is one of that class of drinks with no fixed recipe. If you look in ten different places, you’ll likely find ten different formulations. Many books and databases even include several variations, giving each one a number.

I decided to look into the history of the Planter’s Punch to see if I could find a definitive or original recipe, but things don’t seem to be that clear. According to Wikipedia, the first known reference to a Planter’s Punch is in the August 8, 1908 edition of the New York Times, where a generic recipe is given as this little poem:

This recipe I give to thee,
Dear brother in the heat.
Take two of sour (lime let it be)
To one and a half of sweet,
Of Old Jamaica pour three strong,
And add four parts of weak.
Then mix and drink. I do no wrong —
I know whereof I speak.

Now I don’t know about you, but to me that seems like an invitation to improvise. The recipe gives four ingredients — lime, Jamaican rum, something sweet and something weak. Lime and rum are fixed, so we’re left with two ingredients to play with. Thankfully the measures were easy to translate into modern units, with each part being half-an-ounce in my interpretation.

For Sweet I decided early on to use my newly acquired Orgeat syrup (there’s a Mai Tai post coming soon when I can source the quality ingredients needed). I tried another version with a new homemade grenadine I’ve been toying with, but the Orgeat was somehow more satisfying. That may just be me favouring something new, though.

Weak is obviously some sort of fruit juice. Orange and pineapple are the usual suspects here, so I wanted a little change from that, but without going all out and using mango or passion fruit either. I settled on grapefruit juice as being out-of-the-ordinary enough without being cliché tropical.

For the rum, I cheated slightly because I found that the full given amount of dark Jamaican rum overpowered the drink. So I reduced the Jamaican rum to one ounce, and threw in some Havana Club Añejo 3 años for it’s distinctive nose and taste. I suppose that reading my new Beachbum Berry book arsenal is having an effect on me.

As to the name, it’s an allusion to the numbers given to variations I mention in the beginning of the post, joined with a rather geeky pop-culture reference.

Recipe:

1 oz. Dark Jamaican Rum
1/2 oz. Light Rum
3/4 oz. Sirop d’Orgeat
1 oz. Lime juice
2 oz. Grapefruit juice

Shake with plenty of cracked ice until you can’t feel the tips of your fingers, and serve in a large tall glass.

Notes:

The Orgeat is pretty pronounced, so you may want to reduce it to 1/2 oz. to make it more subtle. Either way, it’s a nice drink that’s refreshing and not too sweet.

I’ll also be trying this with a slightly less pungent Jamaican rum, and using the full 1 1/2 oz. to see how that works out.

Rating:

- Refreshing and different.

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.

I first saw this drink mentioned on Beachbum Berry’s blog over a month ago, and had been intrigued by it until a few days ago, when I finally got my hands on some allspice and made the requisite syrup. I have to say it is very good. So good, in fact, that it made me ponder the adequacy of my rating system.

You see, a four-star drink has to be like a friend who is always there for you no matter what. That means, apart from tasting great, it has to be easy to make and have ingredients I am likely to have around the house. The rating system is very clear — rare ingredients or difficult methods get you two stars.

The ingredient list is where the Navy Grog falters. It uses something called Grog Mix, which is an allspice syrup you pretty much have to make yourself. The directions are simple, according to the Bum:

Grind enough whole dried allspice berries to make 6 level tablespoons. Place the ground allspice in a saucepan with 1 cup sugar and 1 cup water. Bring it all to a boil, then cover and simmer for two minutes. Remove the saucepan from heat and — keeping it covered — let steep for two to three hours, then strain into a bottle and refrigerate.

No matter how simple-to-make an ingredient is, it remains an added complexity. This is especially true for me because I’m so lazy when it comes to making these things, hell, I don’t even have any simple syrup usually.

The resulting drink, however, is really something. The allspice is very prominent and unlike anything I’d ever tasted before in a glass. It works wonders with the robust rums in the mix, and makes the entire experience very satisfying. I recommend you make yourself one right away, or as soon as you’ve mixed up some Grog Mix.

Recipe:

1 oz. dark Jamaican Rum
1 oz. Demerara Rum
3/4 oz. Lime juice
1/2 oz. Grapefruit juice
3/4 oz. Grog Mix

Shake everything together briskly with plenty of crushed ice and pour into a double old-fashioned glass.

Notes:

Demerara rum is impossible to find here in Spain, so I ended up just substituting it for a completely different rum, to see what the effect was. I used Cruzan gold rum, which is new round these parts, and the result was quite decent.

Rating:

- If I make Grog Mix on a regular basis, it’s no longer a difficult-to-find ingredient, right? Right??

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.

On a quiet summer afternoon, there is nothing better than a refreshing, unpretentious drink to cool body and mind. The Horse’s Neck is definitely one of these. Simple to make, it also has that little bit extra flavour-wise that makes an interesting drink.

In it’s essence, the Horse’s Neck is just a normal long drink — booze and mixer. However, there are a couple of unusual features. For starters, it calls for brandy, a spirit that is usually taken straight. There is a good reason for this, since the nuances of brandy are usually lost if mixed with something as intense as Coke.

However, we’ll be mixing the brandy with ginger ale, a much gentler mixer generally. Note that using a strong ginger beer would probably ruin the drink altogether, the weak Schweppes-like stuff is what we’re after here.

Finally, the Horse’s Neck calls for a dash or two of Angostura bitters. The bitters make this drink, enhancing and combining with the brandy like a pinch of salt can make or break a meal. Removing the bitters makes this just another mixed drink, and using rum or bourbon instead of brandy just isn’t the same.

Recipe:

2 oz. Brandy
1 or 2 dashes Angostura bitters
fill with Ginger Ale

Build in the order given in a tall glass over plenty of ice.

Notes:

I always use spanish brandy. If I’m looking for a French Cognac-like brandy, I’ll use one of the bottlings from the Catalunya region in north-east Spain. However, I usually use sherry brandy, from the southern province of Cádiz, and this drink is no exception. I find that the additional sherry flavours work very well.

Also, I like to be liberal with the bitters, but your personal preference may differ…

Rating:

- One of my summer favourites.

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.