Not long before Christmas 2005 I wanted to come up with an original cocktail that evoked the flavors of the holidays. “Christmas in a glass,” to purloin a phrase used by Seattle bartender Murray Stenson to describe one of this drink’s ingredients, was what I was aiming for. I wanted something more than just a one-note flavor, I wanted (as usual) a symphony of flavors. I think what we came up with (Wes helped a lot on this one) was pretty darn good.

In order to make it you’ll need to have made a batch of pimento dram, or Jamaican allspice liqueur. (This is because these days I seem pathologically incapable of concocting new cocktails unless they contain one or more very obscure ingredients.) Go ahead, it’s easy; all you need are whole allspice berries, 151 proof Demerara rum (or a mixture of Myers’ rum and Wray and Nephew Overproof Rum), brown sugar, water, a sealable jar and 40 days. Make some; you won’t regret it. “It’s the most important liqueur in the world!” declared Dr. Cocktail, with regards to the commercially made version which is completely unavailable outside Jamaica and isn’t exported.

Paul Clarke at The Cocktail Chronicles was kind and trusting enough to give my new drink a whirl and came away impressed. (Thanks!) He didn’t think I should tinker with it any more, so I didn’t. I liked it, so did Wes, and with one trustworthy taste test we decided we were pleased. It has a similar development history to the Hoskins Cocktail, in that I wanted no one ingredient to predominate and for them all work together toward the whole, and that in both cases Wes tried the first attempt, said “ehh” and suggested swapping proportions between two ingredients whereupon the bell rang, the lightbulb lit and we shrieked “Eureka!”. I wanted the holiday season in a glass, and I guess I did all right.

The acid test, of course, was when I made one for Dr. Cocktail at our 2005 holiday party. “Be critical!” I demanded. He’s opinionated and demanding and brutal regarding flavor and quality, and I knew that if he hesitated and tried to keep from making a face, it might mean a trip back to the drawing board. Instead, after one sip, he immediately said, to my great relief, “Oh, this is delightful!” and then added later, “It’s like suckin’ on Santa!” Well, that’s good enough for me.

You can use regular sweet vermouth in this, but if you use one of Carpano’s high-end vermouths like Antica Formula or Punt E Mes, as the recipe calls for, you’ll get even more wintry, spicy nuances in your drink. (Paul Clarke favors Punt E Mes, not only for its additional hint of bitterness but because it’s all he can get in the state-controlled liquor stores in Washington; the silly sods don’t carry Carpano Antica.) However, at Arnaud’s French 75 Bar in New Orleans, bartender Chris Hannah makes this drink with Dubonnet Rouge, and it’s wonderful.

As for the bitters, Angostura bitters will be easier to find, but Fee Brothers’ “Old Fashion” aromatic cocktail bitters work quite a bit better. As Dr. Cocktail once said, “Fee’s Bitters have one note, and that note is cinnamon.” That note happens to work very well for this drink. You can also use Fee’s new Whiskey Barrel Aged Bitters, which have a lovely complexity. Of course, if you happen to have any vintage Abbott’s Bitters — which haven’t been made in over 50 years but are obtainable if you’re obsessed like me and look hard enough — which are redolent with the “apple pie spices”, the flavor is beyond amazing. In a pinch, use good ol’ Angostura.

The original idea for the garnish was a cinnamon stick, but the star anise pod emerged during the photography for the drink when it was featured in the July/August 2007 issue of Imbibe magazine, which was really cool.

Now, this drink is all clear spirits so should be stirred, but Chris shakes his specifically to produce the wintry-looking froth, and the star anise pod sitting on that is perfect for the Christmas season.

Oh, and the name? Just as I was about to bestow upon this drink the well-intentioned yet supremely dopey name “Bingle Cocktail” (named, of course, for Mr. Bingle, beloved New Orleans Christmas mascot), Wes thought better of it. The name he suggested evokes Christmas, especially Christmas eve, but also the recent New Orleans spin on the old tradition that expands the feasting of la veille de Noël all season long …

The Réveillon Cocktail

2 ounces Calvados (or other apple brandy).
1/2 ounce pear eau-de-vie (clear, unsweetened pear brandy).
1/2 ounce homemade pimento dram (allspice liqueur).
1/4 ounce or Carpano Antica Formula sweet vermouth (substitute Punt e Mes) or Dubonnet Rouge (Arnaud’s version).
1 dash Fee’s Old Fashion Aromatic Bitters (or Abbott’s Bitters, if you’ve got them).
Star anise pod for garnish (or a cinnamon stick, if you don’t have star anise).

Combine ingredients with cracked ice in a cocktail shaker. Stir like hell for no less than 30 seconds, and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the star anise.

Serve on Christmas Eve, throughout the Twelve Days of Christmas … or whenever you want.

This wonderful drink was supposedly created at Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop in the French Quarter in New Orleans, and has become a favorite of ours. While you may certainly use an absinthe substitute/pastis such as Herbsaint or Pernod, it’s at its best when you use real, quality absinthe. We like native New Orleanian Ted Breaux’s Absinthe Nouvelle-Orléans, made by his company Jade Liqueurs, available from Liqueurs de France, Ltd. and, we’re told, an American distributor soon.

Don’t let this drink’s name become something more meaningful. Reread the above article and do what I say.

The Obituary Cocktail

2 ounces strong gin.
1/4 ounce dry vermouth.
1/4 ounce absinthe.

Combine with cracked ice in a cocktail shaker.
Shake vigorously for 13 seconds, or stir vigorously for
no less than 26 seconds. Strain into a cocktail glass;
no garnish.

You really should visit the Jade Liqueurs site, and I can’t recommend their products more highly. They’re expensive, but worth it — a truly handmade product that’s the result of years of miraculous research (revist the articles about Ted in the Gambit and Wired to learn about how he did it). Ted also could use the income, as he lost his New Orleans home to Katrina.

Incidentally, Obituary Cocktail: The Great Saloons of New Orleans is the name of an excellent book by Kerry McCaffety that you should probably buy.

Ever since I began experimenting with my Pimento Dram (a.k.a., allspice liqueur) recipe I’d been wanting to play more with the lovely, rich, sumptuous, dark and caramelly Demerara rum that I used to make it. Demerara rum is made exclusively in the nation of Guyana, with Demerara sugar — large crystals, golden-colored, rich with molasses but not as moist as typical American brown sugar. The most readily available brand is Lemon Hart, which is fine stuff (and, as Dr. Cocktail points out, the makers of the only palatable 151 proof rum on the American market; the only cocktail for which Bacardi 151 is suitable, by comparison, is the one made by Mr. Molotov). I picked up a bottle for a mere $16 at Topline Wine and Spirits in Glendale, and it was off to CocktailDB to look for interesting suggestions for the use of this fine rum. Here’s the first one that came up. It’s good.

The Atlas Cocktail

1 ounce Calvados or apple brandy.
1 ounce Demerara rum (Lemon Hart).
1/2 ounce Cointreau.
1 dash Angostura bitters.

Stir in mixing glass with ice for no less than 30 seconds.
Strail into a cocktail glass. Optional orange twist garnish.

In today’s edition of Gary Regan’s fortnightly column, the Professor, our cocktailian bartender, mixes up a Menage au Poire, which looks great. Read about it at the link, but have a look at the recipe first:

Ménage au Poire
Adapted from a recipe by Victoria Damato-Moran,
bar manager at Tony Nik’s in San Francisco

1-1/4 ounces Pitú cachaça.
1 ounce Belle de Brillet.
1/2 ounce Chinaco Reposado tequila.
2-1/2 ounces pear nectar (Santa Cruz, Hansen’s, etc.).
Juice of half a lime.
Pinch of sea salt.

Fill a cocktail shaker 2/3 full of ice, add the ingredients
and shake for about 15 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail
glass. Garnish with a lime twist and a slice of pear.

At our house, this would be enough for TWO 3-ounce drinks.

The “mystery restaurant” where Wes ended up taking me for my 2005 birthday dinner was Lucques in West Hollywood, which pleased me no end. The food was fabulous, as were the drinks — the bar there is no slouch, and this was before the L.A. cocktail renaissance took off.

This was a suggestion from the bartender, one of their house specialty cocktails.

The Harold Lloyd Cocktail

3 ounces Hendrick’s Gin.
1/4 ounce dry vermouth.
1/4 ounce sweet vermouth.

Stir for no less than 30 seconds, until ice-cold.
Garnish with a cucumber slice.

We loved this. Does anybody remember what a Perfect Martini is anymore? If you do, how many times have you said to a bartender, “I’ll have a Perfect Martini please,” only to have him haughtily reply, “All my Martinis are perfect!”

No no no, silly sod; a Perfect Martini is one that uses half sweet and half dry vermouth, instead of all dry. Perhaps the reason why most people don’t know this is that most people have forgotten that a Martini has vermouth in in. All this horseshit about waving the closed bottle of vermouth over the shaker has nothing to do with a Martini, and has everything to do with drinking cold gin, up. That ain’t a Martini. A Martini has vermouth in it. Period. QED. I have spoken.

Hendrick’s Gin, if you’re not yet familiar with it, is a wonderful, hand-crafted small-batch gin made in Scotland, and has amongst its unusual mix of botanicals an infusion of rose petals and cucumber, giving it a unique flavor that I happen to love. We’d made regular Martinis with it, not wanting that unique flavor to get too lost in a cocktail, but had never tried it as a Perfect Martini before. That, combined with the cucumber slice and the nifty name, has made us big fans of this drink, named after the silent movie star in whose former carriage house the restaurant is housed. Safety last!

So what, it’s basically just a Perfect Martini made with Hendrick’s and garnished with a cucumber slice, right? But the cucumber-rose elements of the gin plus the aroma of that garnish really do make this a different experience, and I would argue that the drink deserves its own name. Besides, anyone serving interesting Perfect Martini variations as a house cocktail in 2005, when even top-notch restaurants like Patina and Spago were churning out disgustingly sweet liqueur-filled concoctions as their house cocktails gets to name their drinks whatever they want.