There’s been a new trend the last several months where cocktail bloggers have been offered review samples of products. “Hey, free booze!” you might say. Not so fast. A lot of these, as the bloggers who were the recipients of these offers will confirm, were crap trendy products completely uninteresting to them. (Shocking pink, impossibly sweet liqueurs, and the like.)

A while back I started getting offered samples as well, and they were invariably vodka. I must confess to not having a lot of interest in vodka, preferring spirits that actually taste like something. Yes yes yes, I can get into lengthy argu– er, discussions with vodka drinkers about the subtleties of flavor in a well-made vodka, and they’re absolutely right. I just don’t enjoy drinking plain vodka for the most part (unless it’s Zubrówka), and it bores me. Not only that, I’m a believer in Audrey Saunders’ adage that for the most part a vodka cocktail is a cocktail with a hole in it; any subtlety in a vodka’s flavor pretty much disappears when it’s mixed.

Imagine my delight, then, when I was offered a sample of something that not only interested me but excited me. Now that the disclosure is out of the way, let’s talk about a rum I’ve been curious about for a while but until recently had never tried until I got a bottle in the mail — Ron Matusalem.

Matusalem is a rum from the Dominican Republic, but they are quick to point out that they are a Cuban spirit. How does that work? In 1872 the Matusalem distillery was founded in Santiago de Cuba by two Spanish immigrants, Benjamin and Eduardo Camp, and their partner Evaristo Álvarez. They brought along the Solera system from Spain, used to make Spain’s sherries and brandies, in which a series of barrels are used to age a wine or spirit. A portion from the last and oldest barrel is bottled, then that barrel is filled from the next-to-last barrel, etc. The aging process is reflected in the name they chose for their rum, which is Spanish for Methuselah, the old patriarch who according to biblical legend lived to an age of 969 (nine hundred four years of retirement — golf, shuffleboard and getting in his wife’s hair … oy) and a nod to the old Spanish proverb, “Esto es màs viejo que Matusalem” — “It’s older than Methuselah.”

The beautifully crafted rum took off, and by the mid-1950s Matusalem had half of the Cuban rum market. Then we all know what happened in Cuba four years later …

The Álvarez family and their company were forced into exile, and the brand nose-dived. Fortunately, in the mid-1990s, Claudio Álvarez Salazar, great-grandson of Evaristo, won a court settlement granting the Matusalem brand back to him and his family. He took what was left of the company back to its roots, started making their rums the old way and … voilà! Ron Matusalem was relaunched in 2002.

Here’s the stuff they sent me a few weeks ago:

Ron Matusalem Gran Reserva, 15 years old. “The Cognac of Rums” was what it was called back in the day, according to the distiller. They describe it as a “super premium” rum but also call for its inclusion in cocktails. Well, let’s give it a try, shall we?

This is the first time I’ve ever evaluated a spirit for a review, even just as semi-formal one, but I want to do it right. Fortunately a month ago Wesly and I took a course at Tales of the Cocktail with Paul Pacult called “How to Taste Like A Professional,” which comes in handy for this sort of thing. Our palates aren’t nearly as educated as his, but we can certainly continue to train them by taking his advice, which is basically to smell and taste the spirit, do it properly, and let the spirit sit in the glass for several minutes to see what else it releases as it aerates. Sounds like fun.

First off, it’s pretty stuff; a beautiful amber/honey color in the glass. First sniff … sugar cane. Then vanilla, and plenty of it. “Grandmother’s attic,” was one of Gregg’s observations when he, Wes and I first tasted this a week or so ago, and he meant that in the best possible way. After a few minutes more vanilla, then a buttery aroma developed. Five to seven minutes in the glass, and I actually laughed in surprise — I got the flavor of pecan pralines, right out of New Orleans. (Unsurprising, as the ingredients in pralines are sugar, butter, pecans and sometimes rum.) Really delightful.

Now, let’s have a taste … a bit of alcohol up front, although it’s bottled at 40%. It’s pleasantly hot, though; I get that not so much on the tongue but on my lips. Despite that bit of heat it’s very smooth. We all found that 5 to 8 minutes in the glass eliminated the burn. It’s delicate and refined but wouldn’t be easy to overpower. Very complex, with plenty of vanilla, butter, toasted pecans, a touch of cinnamon. More aeration also brought out more oak wood as well. It had a nice finish too; I could still taste it almost 15 minutes later. Hoo-boy. We poured some more. This is really terrific stuff. Not too sweet, with more of a brown sugar flavor that strong molasses, crisp, woody, buttery caramel, yet still dry enough. The first time we tasted this we also tasted an actual Cuban rum, Havana Club Añejo (um … we teleported to Canada to do that … yeah, that’s it), and I have to say that Fidel’s boys got their butts kicked. Clearly Matusalem was the superior product.

Now, is this a rum I want to reserve for sipping only? I’m tempted, but I’m a believer in Gary Regan’s adage of “Garbage In, Garbage Out” when it comes to cocktails, and I’m not shy about using the good stuff. I certainly will sip this on occasion, but what else shall we try? One of my favorite ways to evaluate a whiskey is to use it in an Old Fashioned, and I’ve been doing that with añejo tequila these days as well. So let’s try one of those … Wes did the honors.

Rum Old Fashioned

2-1/2 ounces Ron Matusalem Gran Reserva rum.
1 teaspoon simple syrup.
2 dashes Angostura Bitters.
1 lime wedge.
1 good-quality cocktail cherry.

Combine rum, syrup and bitters in a mixing glass and stir for 30 seconds. Strain into an Old Fashioned glass over fresh ice. Garnish with the cherry and the lime wedge, but do not squeeze the lime; leave the option for the drinker.

This made an absolutely gorgeous Old Fashioned. Wes went light on the syrup, as we didn’t want to oversweeten. The lime makes a lovely garnish and would probably complement the flavor nicely, but we thought leaving the squeezing up to the individual would be a good idea if you’re serving these.

Okay, what else shall we do? I thought of a Daiquiri, and that’d be a great way to drink this stuff too; keeping it simple with lime and sugar. I wanted to try and see how it’d blend with other ingredients, though, and while thinking of something Daiquiri-like the lightbulb went off over my head. I went to our cocktail bookshelf and dug out Jeff “Beachbum” Berry’s most recent and stupendously wonderful book, Sippin’ Safari and flipped around until I found the recipe I was thinking about.

This is a drink by the man who started the whole world of tiki cocktails and cuisine, a native of New Orleans named Ernest Raymond Beaumont Gantt, who later changed his name to Donn Beach, but was known the world ’round as Don the Beachcomber. Jeff says this drink “is a good example of how Donn had mastered the art of blending rums of different body, character and origin to create a flavor no one rum could approach on its own. Try this with 2 ounces of only one of the rums listed above, and you’ll get a serviceable but utterly unexceptional Daiquiri.”

Don’s original recipe called for Golden Stag rum; Jeff suggests substituting Appleton Special Gold from Jamaica, but I decided to let the Cuban spirit by way of the Dominican Republic take the forefront. The other two rums called for are a half-ounce each of “aged dark Jamaican rum” — Jeff recommends Appleton Estate Extra, which I absolutely love (talk about the Cognac of rums, yeesh!) — and Louisiana rum, for which I used Old New Orleans Dark 3 Year Old rum.

Golden Stag

1 ounce Ron Matusalem Gran Reserva rum.
1/2 ounce Appleton Estate Extra rum.
1/2 ounce Old New Orleans Dark rum.
1/2 ounce fresh lime juice.
1/2 ounce simple syrup.
1 dash Angostura Bitters.
Lime wheel.

Shake with ice for at least 12 seconds, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the lime wheel.

God … what a gorgeous drink! This ain’t no ordinary Daiquiri; blending those rums together creates a new and wonderful whole, and the Matusalem anchor works great. The dash of bitters helps to tie it all together, with the sweet and tart in balance.

I’d say go ahead and mix Matusalem Gran Reserva with just about anything you care to (although if you do a Cuba Libre I’d go easy on the cola). Definitely sip this when you’re in the mood for a sippin’ rum, though. And the clincher? The distillery describes this as a “super premium” rum, but Beverage Warehouse carries this for $29.95! That’s hardly a premium price, and at that price you can afford to go through this without too much worry about your wallet.

And there you have it, my first review from an actual professional sample. That was fun. Let’s do it again!

Eric Felten has a fascinating article in the Wall Street Journal about the history of drinking and cocktails in the Olympics (I love that Frank Sinatra wanted to start an Olympic Drinking Team). There’s even a yummy-looking cocktail recipe, which I’ll post here; read it soon, as the article will go away in a few days.

Appropriately enough, there is an Olympic Cocktail that managed to find its way into old cocktail books. Equal parts brandy, orange curaçao and orange juice, sadly, it is an over-sweet monotone.

But there are others, including the drink devised by Nino Mastalioni, a hotel barman in Rome, who in 1960 tried to reflect in a glass the international character of the games. He combined one part each American rye whiskey, German kirsch, Russian vodka, London dry gin, along with Campari (to represent his native Italia). Nino was happy to customize his concoction — replacing the whiskey with tequila for his Mexican guests, or aquavit for the vodka if a Dane stepped up to the bar. But any way you try it, Mastalioni’s Elixir of Olympus is fiercely alcoholic and only marginally potable.

Far better is the Mount Olympus cocktail created by Wembley bartender Jock Nelson for London’s 1948 games. Equal parts Greek brandy, Lillet blanc and orange curaçao, Nelson bragged the drink was “guaranteed to give anyone enough zip to run a four-minute mile.” The original cocktail is too sweet and viscous for my taste, but with a little adjustment it’s possible to find a gymnast’s balance for the Mount Olympus. I boosted the proportion of brandy, replaced the generic curaçao with Grand Marnier and added a bit of fresh lime juice to keep the sweetness in check.

Mount Olympus

1-1/2 ounces Metaxa.
1/2 ounce Grand Marnier.
1/2 ounce Lillet blanc.
1/4 ounce fresh lime juice.

Shake with ice and strain into a stemmed cocktail glass. Garnish with orange peel.

We had one last night. Very lovely.

If any of y’all have an Olympic cocktail of your own, or are inspired to create one, please post it in the comments!

How can you pass up a class with that title? We couldn’t.

After Paul Pacult’s spirits tasting seminar earlier that day (which we went over yesterday), in which I tasted (and did not spit out) six fabulous single malt Scots whiskies, we had about a half-hour break before the next one. Problem was, it was on the top floor of the hotel, with the limited elevators being packed with people every time we tried to get up, and it took us over a half an hour just to get up there. If I wasn’t such a wimpy non-athlete I would have considered the stairs, but 17 flights is rather daunting for anyone, I’d expect. (This was one of the big flaws with the Tales setup at the Monteleone, frankly — it often takes a ridiculous amount of time to get up to the Riverview and Vieux Carré Rooms.) By the time we got there we had to sit way in the back, and consequently didn’t get one of the great Plymouth Gin swag items — a shoulder bag full of bar tools. Sigh.

What we did get was a tasting mat before us, lined up with ten gins! (If there was a spit bucket, and I honestly don’t remember if there was or not, I ignored it. Sigh.)

Ryan Magarian, Portland-based mixologist and co-creator of Aviation Gin, moderated the session along with Philip Duff, brand ambassador for Bols, Simon Ford, brand ambassador for Plymouth as well as Desmond Payne, Beefeater Gin’s Master Distiller (wow).

We started out with a selection of genevers, also called Dutch gin or “Holland gin” in Jerry Thomas’ time. It’s the original gin, predating the London dry style that we’ve come to know as gin, and has a very different history, character and distilling process. It starts out as a multigrain mash with lots of rye, wheat and corn, although not too much barley. We got to taste the two main types of genever — jonge and oude — plus korenwijn (“corn wine,” the aforementioned multigrain spirit). The base spirit is produced in copper pot stills and comes out at about 120 proof, and to make genever it’s blended with the botanicals and redistilled. Juniper is part of the mix of botanicals, as with London dry gin, but it’s further in the background and not nearly so dominant. Korenwijn, incidentally, is a wonderful spirit on its own, though, and very popular in the Netherlands although sadly unavailable in the U.S. so far. Let’s keep our fingers crossed.

“Jonge” and “oude” don’t refer to age in genevers, but to style and distilling techniques. “Oude,” the older style, is a heartier, maltier spirit, made from barley not unlike Scots whisky, and “jonge” a newer, clear, more neutrally-flavored style. There’s less of a korenwijn base in the jonge style, which is lighter and apparently very popular in the Netherlands these days; young people apparently mix it with Coke. (Gah, such a waste.)

Oude genever, or even better, true korenwijn, makes a perfect Improved Holland Gin Cocktail, one of four cocktails we were served during this seminar.

Improved Holland Gin Cocktail

2 ounces oude genever (or korenwijn if you can get it).
1 teaspoon Maraschino liqueur (or Grand Marnier).
1 teaspoon rich simple syrup.
2 dashes Angostura or Peychaud’s bitters.

Stir with ice and serve on the rocks, or strain and serve up. Garnish with a lemon peel.

This is an amazingly good drink. Truly. The most readily available genevers in the States is by Boomsma, although the Maytag folks have recently debuted an American-made genever called Genevieve. We picked up a bottle recently but haven’t tried it yet (hmm, maybe tonight).

The three genever-style spirits we tasted, thanks to Philip (who was wearing a t-shirt that said “I’d Rather Be Drinking Genever”), were:

An unaged, uncut “malt wine”, the base for genever.

Korenwijn, a very old genever at 38% abv, which we were very lucky to get!

Bols Jonge Genever, lighter but very lovely stuff, and you do get a bouquet of botanicals in the nose and on the tongue. Seems such a waste to mix this stuff with Coke! Philip says this is the #1 bestselling spirit in the Netherlands.

Next to taste was an Old Tom Gin. This is a legendary spirit, predating the appearance of London dry gin in this country by decades, and was a sweetened gin. Back in the Days of Yore sugar was added to gin to help mask nasty flavors brought about by the presence of impurities and bad-tasting congeners resulting from poor distilling techniques. As distilling improved the style’s popularity continued, and Old Tom gin was the basis for almost all historical cocktails pre-1890s or so which called for gin that wasn’t specifically Holland gin. It was extremely popular up until Prohibition, but never really recovered afterwards, and by the 1960s it was no longer made.

Old Tom is back, though, and I hope it won’t be too much longer before we see it in shops. I can’t wait to taste this in a Ramos Gin Fizz; that’s the gin that was used in the original recipe. Old Tom It was surprisingly sweet, more so than I expected, which helped ameliorate the bite of the juniper (which was definitely there) although there was more flavor from the alcohol than from the botanicals. This could be a great “gateway gin” for gin-fearers. Vodka-drinker-converters of the world, unite!

Brands of Old Tom Gin and the more currently well-known and popular London dry gin began to become established in the 1840s, although Old Tom made it over here first. We didn’t start seeing London dry appearing in cocktail recipes until about the 1890s, even the turn of the century. Before long it was established as the premiere gin of choice in the States, and I can’t imagine a Martini without it.

The next gin we tried was old tried and true, Beefeater from London. It was great to have Desmond Payne there to speak, and although I sat in rapt attention while he was speaking I didn’t take any notes, and on that day I beat the living crap out of my already-crappy memory … sigh. Gabriel should have a Juniperlooza post up before long, and here’s hoping he remembers Desmond’s comments better than I do.

This was actually the first time I had tasted Beefeater neat and at room temperature, something I should really be doing for all spirits, according to what we learned from Paul Pacult. That said, gin tends to be the only spirit I never drink by itself; hardly anyone does, really. It’s a spirit that’s made for cocktails, and its botanicals blend so beautifully with other ingredients that you can’t help but to mix it. One taste of Beefeater cried out … JUNIPERRRRRRR! Like, *whap* in the snoot with a juniper branch. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. We also got lots of citrus — bitter orange and lemon peel.

We got a yummy cocktail made from the stash of Beefeater, one of my favorites and a sort of medium-level cocktail for converting former vodka drinkers. It’s tangy and grapefruity and very refreshing, and has been referred to as a “modern classic.” It was invented by Paul Harrington in the 1990s, but tastes like one of those drinks that’s been around for decades.

Jasmine

1-1/2 ounces London dry gin (we used Beefeater, of course).
1 ounce Cointreau (but we used Grand Marnier at the session).
3/4 ounce Campari.
1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice.

Shake with ice, strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon wedge.

Then we tasted Plymouth Gin, perhaps my favorite all-around gin. It’s not a London dry, it’s its own style, appelation and category, of which it is the sole occupant. Very unique! The Plymouth Gin company was founded in 1793, in an area that had been making spirits since the 15th Century. It’s full-flavored but less assertive than London dry. It’s a FANTASTIC Martini gin, and very well-balanced. It’s also the base spirit of my own signature cocktail, The Hoskins.

The next gin we didn’t get to taste, because we were too far in the back and they ran out. (D’oh. Get enough product for the seminars!) It’s a gin from Menorca (!) called Xoriguer de Mahon, and I know nothing about it; let’s read the information sheet!

Then … aaah, the sheer joy of Plymouth Sloe Gin! If you’ve ever tasted any sloe gin available in America, you’ve probably nearly spat it out as a syrupy, cough-mediciney swill that’s artificially flavored and colored and that you wouldn’t want in your drink. Plymouth Sloe Gin is actually made from gin and sloe berries (small blackthorne plums), made in the old artisanal style. It’s fantastic stuff, bittersweet and tart and beautifully balanced. The original recipe was lost, but it was reintroduced in the UK 11 years ago and has been unavailable in the U.S., until this year. I have yet to see it on the shelves, but when you see it, GRAB IT! Learn the joys of a true Sloe Gin Fizz.

Finally we moved to what’s being called the “New Western Dry Gins,” still with juniper in the botanical bouquet but it’s not so upfront, not the dominant flavor. These new gins tend to be in two general categories: either citrusy or a savory, floral-spicy style. Tanqueray No. 10 is one of these, with fresh citrus peel in its botanicals. It’s a “softer” gin but lovely stuff, and a good gateway gin. Hendrick’s from Scotland is one of my favorites in this style, with cucumber and rose petal in the finish. G’Vine from France features forward notes of cardamom. Try some gin sours with these sometime.

I’ve been hearing a lot about Martin Miller’s; I’d had some in a cocktail before, and finally got a taste of it on its own. It’s sweet on the palate but not sweetened, with flavors of cucumber, lavender and violets. A good suggestion was to try this in a Collins with some Aperol. (Hmm!)

Cucumber Cantaloupe Sour

1-1/2 ounces Martin Miller’s Reformed Dry Gin.
3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice.
2 ounces fresh extracted cantaloupe juice.
1/2 ounce housemade clover honey syrup (1:1 with water).

Combine in a mixing glass with ice, shake vigorously and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with sliced or shaved cucumber.

Last but not least, Aviation Gin, Ryan’s own concoction. I’ve been a fan of this gin since first tasting it, but it’s the kind of gin I want to try in drinks other than a Martini. It’s quite floral and spicy — lavender and cardamom immediately come to mind. The suggestion made in class — try this versus Martin Miller’s in a Blue Moon showdown, especially when Crème Yvette comes back next year!

Pepper Delicious

2 ounces Aviation Gin.
10 mint leaves.
1 ounce fresh lime juice.
3/4 ounce rich simple syrup.
2 thin slices red bell pepper.

Muddle pepper slices and mint leaves in a mixing glass. Fill with ice, add remaining ingredients and shake vigorously. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass, and garnish with another thin pepper slice.

I was already exited about gins, and this got me even more excited. Old Tom! Plymouth Sloe! It’s going to be so much fun playing with all this.

Now, let’s recap the score. We began Thursday from 10:30 to noon with six Scotches which I did not spit out. We continued from 12:30 to 2:00 with nine gins which I did not spit out, and four 2-ounce cocktails which I happily finished. Next session at 2:30 — Cognacs and Armagnacs!

Tales of the Cocktail approaches, and it’s been decided. The official cocktail of this year’s Tales is the Punch and Judy, by Charlotte Voisey. It is indeed a punch too, which is great and which will no doubt delight punchmeister David Wondrich!

Punch and Judy
(by Charlotte Voisey)

1 ounce Martell VSOP Cognac.
1/4 ounce Old New Orleans Crystal Rum.
1/2 ounce Hendrick’s Gin.
1/2 ounce Bols Orange Curaçao.
2 ounces pineapple juice.
1/2 ounce fresh lime juice.
1/2 ounce fresh orange juice.
1/2 ounce agave nectar.
2 dashes Angostura Bitters.
4 mint leaves.

Assemble ingredients in a mixing glass with as much love and interest that is healthy (that is to say, not in a obsessive fashion but certainly passionate) – no need to muddle the mint, just throw it in – shake properly (hard) and strain over fresh ice in a highball glass.

Cut a thinly sliced lime wheel and place on top of the Punch and Judy; add a hearty sprinkle of ground nutmeg directly on the lime wheel fresh from the “nut” with a small grater, instead of using already ground nutmeg from a small shaker.

Oh, and as you can tell, the contest asked that one use as many of the sponsors’ products as possible. No worries, though … alll that stuff’s mighty good.

You’ll have fun, you’ll have fun, every day of the week!

This Cocktail of the Day sends me into a huge nostalgic rush, and I never even got to taste it it its heyday.

Those of you who are New Orleanians of A Certain Age will fondly remember Pontchartrain Beach, our beloved local amusement park. Built in 1928 and retaining many of its Art Deco design touches until it was demolished (*sob!*) in 1983, I grew up going there many times every summer, and it was part of my childhood.

One of the more popular attractions at The Beach wasn’t a ride, it was a fabulous resteaurant, New Orleans’ own version of the faux-Polynesian “Tiki” food and drink craze which swept the nation after the immense popularity of Don the Beachcomber’s and Trader Vic’s — Bali Ha’i at The Beach. It opened around 1952 and closed with the park in 1982 … and I never got to go there.

When I was a kid my parents took me to The Beach all the time, but never to Bali Ha’i (I guess they weren’t into Tiki cuisine and rarely if ever drank tropical drinks), and by the time I was old enough to drink I took the Beach for granted, and only went there a couple of times when I was in college. Had I known then what I know now, I would have gone every week.

Recently the Times-Picayune came across a drink recipe from Bali H’ai, which a reader obtained from the family who used to cook there (they later opened their own Chinese restaurnat in Kenner after Bali H’ai closed). It’s their own interpretation of a venerable tropical classic.

The Bali Ha’i Fog Cutter
(from the late, lamented Bali Ha’i Restaurant, Pontchartrain Beach, New Orleans)

8 ounces orange juice.
6 ounces lime juice.
6 ounces simple syrup.
4 ounces light rum.
4 ounces dark rum.
4 ounces brandy.
4 ounces gin.
1/4 ounce almond extract.

Combine all ingredients in a pitcher. Serve in tiki glasses or tall glasses.

Makes 4 (or more) drinks.

Of course, they other key to authenticity in this drink is to serve it in the proper vessel …

(Are you kidding me? That stays in the display cabinet! One of my regular tiki mugs will have to do.)

I now also own a menu from Bali Ha’i from the ’60s, which has become a treasured possession.

Let’s all sing …. “Baaaali Haaaaaaaaaaaiiiiii …”