Here’s my entry in the Monteleone Hotel’s cocktail competition — the hope is that this drink gets to be called “The Monteleone Cocktail” for good. As you may recall from previous posts over the past couple of weeks, the Monteleone Hotel in New Orleans is hosting a cocktail contest for their new signature drink, in honor of the 60th anniversary of their legendary and venerable Carousel Bar. The competition will no doubt be as stiff as the drinks, so wish me luck!

While I wasn’t really using the hotel’s other signature drink, the Vieux Carré, as a jumping-off point, I did want to have rye as a base spirit. As it turned out, there’s a slight similarity between the drinks in some of the proportions, but this goes off in a different direction, with a balance of bitter and sweet and spicy and malty that Wes and I both really liked. Here’s hoping you like it too (not to mention the contest judges!).

The Monteleone Cocktail
(Tentatively named pending cocktail contest results.)

Rue Royale
(Renamed, as another cocktail was chosen for the contest winner)

1 ounce Sazerac Rye (6 Year).
1 ounce Bols Genever.
1 ounce Dolin Vermouth Blanc.
1/2 ounce Averna.
2 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters.
1 dash Regans’ Orange Bitters No. 6.
Orange peel.

Combine ingredients with cracked ice and stir for 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail coupe and garnish with the orange peel after giving it a mighty twist.

The rye is there to provide a solid foundation of whiskey and spice, and is there for New Orleans. I was fascinated by the combination of whiskey and genever, which the malty, whiskey-like characteristic of this genever in particular. (My original idea was to try this with Ransom Old Tom Gin, a new barrel-aged Old Tom co-developed by David Wondrich, which I tasted in Seattle and went mad for, but it’s not available yet.) I wanted an aromatized wine as a moderator, and the newly-imported Dolin Blanc is a fantastic product I’ve fallen completely in love with. It’s a sweet white vermouth, along the lines of a bianco from Cinzano or Martini & Rossi but with a really tremendous flavor, and with the sweetness held back a bit. The Averna is because I love amaro, because wanted a pleasantly bitter element which the Dolin helps balance well, and also to honor the Sicilian heritage of Signor Antonio Monteleone, the founder of the hotel. Peychaud’s for spice and for the city, and as I was trying out early incarnations and got close, we thought it needed one little extra bit of brightness, which the orange bitters provide.

Well, that’s my story, anyway, and I’m sticking to it.

If it doesn’t win I’ll still keep making it, and it’ll just get renamed. Maybe I’ll call it the Antonio, after Signor Monteleone. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves; I’d rather it be called the Monteleone.

UPDATE, 5/22/2009: Alas, another cocktail won the contest, but I think this drink is a keeper. It’s being renamed the “Rue Royale.” (Thanks to Wes for the name suggestion!) And congratulations to contest winner Brian Robinson of The Wormwood Society.

Dayne showed us this one when we were visiting them in Seattle a couple of weeks ago (pictures and cocktail recipes and food porn coming soon, I promise!), and it’s a really good one. We’ll be having this at home for cocktail hour tonight — something to focus on for the end of a long work day.

This one comes from the highlyi talented Misty Kalkofen of Drink in Boston, where she is bartender and Mistress of Ice, and Lauren Clark of Drink Boston, both of whom are also members of LUPEC, Ladies United for the Preservation of Endangered Cocktails (“Dismantling the patriarchy one drink at a time!” … yeah you rite!).

I’m not sure where Dayne got this particular description he forwarded to me when I asked him for the recipe, but I will reproduce it verbatim, because it’s too much fun to simply boil down to a list of ingredients.

The Red Rot Cocktail,
which Rather Resembles the Noxious Liquid Medicine
for Moldy Red Leather-bound Books but Nonetheless
Pleases the Palate.
(Created by Misty Kalkofen of Drink and Lauren Clark of drinkboston.com)

To one jigger of London dry gin, add
add one half-ounce each of
St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur,
Cherry Heering and
fresh lemon juice, and
two goodly dashes of Peychaud’s Bitters.

Shake vigorously with ice and turn into a Champagne saucer.

Loverly. And it doesn’t look nearly as noxious as the vile green allergy medicine I had to take when I was a kid.

Well no, our Cocktail of the Day is not a tequila cocktail, since we skipped a post for Cinco de Mayo (and drank lovely Tequila Old Fashioneds: 2 oz. Partida Añejo, 1 tsp. agave nectar, 1 dash each of Angostura Aromatic and Angostura Orange Bitters, and a big swath of grapefruit peel). It’s one I read about in Eric Felten’s column in the Wall Street Journal back in February … ahh, I’m nothing if not procrastinatory.

Paul Clarke has been truly kicking butt the last couple of weeks with his “Thirty in Thirty” series, a cocktail post a day for a month. Last Sunday he wrote about a fantastic-sounding drink called the Theobroma (theobroma cacao being, of course, the Latin name for the cacao bean that brings us all that nummy chocolate) in which he quoted a rule from the Esquire Drinks Database: “There is no such thing as a Chocolate Martini!”.

This is true, but as Eric points out in his article (and some fine examples from Paul), although chocolate as a cocktail ingredient has been badly misused over the past few decades there is indeed historical precedent as well as some great uses, if done carefully and with the proper balance. As I rule I dislike sweet cocktails, so you’re already treading on dangerous ground, but it certainly can be done.

I’m also cautious about dessert cocktails, and the one Eric wrote about certainly falls into that category for me. But despite the fact that it’s 2 parts spirit to 1 part liqueur it doesn’t seem overly sweet and was just the thing after our dinner the other night.

Key to this drink, I think, is finding Marie Brizard’s dark crème de cacao, which has less sweetness and higher proof as well as a deeper chocolate flavor than most inexpensive liqueurs of its kind. Heering is, of course, welcome in so many cocktails I like already, and unsurprisingly it plays very well with the other ingredients. Once Bittermens Xocolatl Mole Bitters is on the market, I’d bet this would benefit from a dash of that too, like Paul’s Theobroma.

The Dolores Cocktail
(adapted by Eric Felten)

2 ounces Spanish brandy, or any brandy. (We used Don Pedro.)
1/2 ounce Marie Brizard dark Crème de Cacao.
1/2 ounce Cherry Heering.

Combine with ice and stir for 20-30 seconds. Strain into your prettiest cocktail glass and garnish with a brandied cherry.

Try making this one if someone comes over and asks for a “Chocolate Martini.” This is a chocolate drink for grown-ups.

Happy Derby Day! Seems like such a lot of hoohah and folderol for a race that lasts about two minutes, but hey, it’s tradition, and any excuse to drink a mint julep is a good one. The celebrations and parties are more fun for me than the race, anyway.

Fine Bourbon whiskey, a little simple syrup, very gently bruised mint, lots of crushed ice, and lots more mint on top. That’s all there is to it. That’s how it’s done.

I’ve been served some damned poor excuses for what some people dared to call a “Mint Julep” in my day, and unfortunately it put me off them completely for years. The first and worst was from Pat O’Brien’s in the French Quarter. It was a sweet, horrid concoction made with some artificially-colored bright green mint syrup. The bartender actually mocked me when he served me that abomination he had just made, saying, “There ya go, brah … ya gonna have da freshest breath in town.” I thought I hated Mint Juleps. It turned out to be a simple thing, though — I had just never had one made properly. Ever. Until, thank the Cosmos, I did.

I can’t do it justice here. I now place you in the masterful hands of the man who’s one of the great bartenders of the City of New Orleans, Mr. Chris McMillian. You will never have a finer mint julep, or a finer mint julep experience, than ordering one of them from him. Don’t be in a hurry; it takes time. Don’t be in a hurry with this drink, either.

“Then comes the zenith of man’s pleasure.
Then comes the julep – the mint julep.
Who has not tasted one has lived in vain.
The honey of Hymettus brought no such solace to the soul;
the nectar of the Gods is tame beside it.
It is the very dream of drinks, the vision of sweet quaffings.

“The Bourbon and the mint are lovers.
In the same land they live, on the same food they are fostered.
The mint dips its infant leaf into the same stream
that makes the bourbon what it is.
The corn grows in the level lands through which small streams meander.
By the brook-side the mint grows.
As the little wavelets pass, they glide up to kiss the feet of the growing mint,
the mint bends to salute them.
Gracious and kind it is, living only for the sake of others.
The crushing of it only makes its sweetness more apparent.
Like a woman’s heart, it gives its sweetest aroma when bruised.
Among the first to greet the spring, it comes.
Beside the gurgling brooks that make music in the pastures it lives and thrives.

“When the Blue Grass begins to shoot its gentle sprays toward the sun,
mint comes, and its sweetest soul drinks at the crystal brook.
It is virgin then. But soon it must be married to Old Bourbon.
His great heart, his warmth of temperament,
and that affinity which no one understands, demand the wedding.
How shall it be?

“Take from the cold spring some water, pure as angels are;
mix it with sugar until it seems like oil.
Then take a glass and crush your mint within it with a spoon —
crush it around the borders of the glass and leave no place untouched.
Then throw the mint away — it is a sacrifice.

“Fill with cracked ice the glass;
pour in the quantity of Bourbon which you want.
It trickles slowly through the ice.
Let it have time to cool, then pour your sugared water over it.
No spoon is needed, no stirring is allowed —
just let it stand a moment.
Then around the brim place sprigs of mint,
so that the one who drinks may find a taste and odor at one draught.

“Then when it is made, sip it slowly.

August suns are shining, 
the breath of the south wind is upon you.

It is fragrant, cold and sweet -– it is seductive.

No maiden’s kiss is tenderer or more refreshing,

no maiden’s touch could be more passionate.

Sip it and dream -– you cannot dream amiss.

Sip it and dream –- it is a dream itself.

No other land can give so sweet solace for your cares;

no other liquor soothes you in melancholy days.
Sip it and say there is no solace for the soul,

no tonic for the body like old Bourbon whiskey.”

— Joshua Soule Smith, Kentucky Colonel
Published in the Lexington Herald in the 1880s

This one comes from David Shenaut, bartender at the Teardrop Lounge in Portland. I had planned to make it last night, but Wes already had John Coltharp’s lovely Historic Core cocktail ready for me when I got home, and we’re still in liver recovery mode after Seattle — only one drink a night for a li’l while. This sounds terrific, though, and it’s my turn to mix tonight.

I’m thrilled to see Dolin Blanc being embraced so quickly. How can it not? It’s a fantastic product. All three kids of Dolin Vermouth are, and they’re brand-new to this country although they’ve been made in France by the same family using the same recipes since 1821. They’re all lighter and drier, marvelously flavored. The “Blanc” variety is distinct from the Dry, as it’s a sweet white vermouth and is so delicious I’m happy to drink it on its own, on the rocks with an orange peel. I’m going to be doing a lot of experimenting with this one. It’s starting to get wide distribution on the coasts; L.A. folk can find it at The Wine House in West L.A. or Silverlake Wine.

For L.A. locals, Bitter Truth bitters are avaiable at Bar Keeper on Sunset in Silverlake; in Seattle at De Laurenti in Pike Place Market, or via mail order from Germany.

Right now I only have Hayman’s Old Tom, which is on the softer side but still makes a lovely drink with a subtle interplay of flavors. David told me later that Hammond’s is “soft and pretty,” while the stupendous brand-new barrel-aged Ransom’s, made in Oregon based on research and specifications by David Wondrich, is “deep and rich.” I got to taste some Ransom’s while I was in Seattle, and that stuff is just mind-bendingly great. When it finally makes it down here I’m probably in for a case of it.

The Ephemeral
(by David Shenaut, Teardrop Lounge, Portland)

1-1/2 ounces Old Tom gin. (I have Hayman’s on hand; I’ll check and see what David uses.)
1 ounce Dolin Vermouth Blanc.
2 barspoons St. Germain Elderflower Liqueur.
3 dashes Bitter Truth Celery Bitters.
Grapefruit peel.

Combine with ice in a mixing glass and stir for 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass or coupe, and garnish with the grapefruit peel.

I hope to do a whole writeup on Dolin soon.