… is named Żubrówka.

Or “bison grass vodka”, which is perhaps a bit easier to pronounce than “zhu-BROOV-ka”. I’d been meaning to try this stuff for a while, since our friends Gregg and Mike had brought us some back from Paris. It’s the classic traditional Polish vodka, infused with native bison grass, which gives it an extremely distinctive flavor and straw-green color. Dr. Cocktail has been singing the praises of it for ages, while telling us the American brands have been artificially flavored for a while. Apparently bison grass contains coumarin, a substance with anticoagulant properties that’s also responsible for much of its flavor.

Waiting for an occasion, I suppose, we never cracked open the bottle of Żubrówka that’s been in our freezer since the boys brought it from Paris, but opportunity presented itself for a taste last night. We had dinner at Warszawa, the excellent Polish restaurant in Santa Monica, before heading to McCabe’s to see the Savoy Family Band play. It had been years since I’d been, and it was even better than I remember — bacon wrapped plums, crispy potato pancakes, grilled kielbasa sausages, pierogis of every description, beef stroganoff, thick pea soup with smoked ham and marjoram, smoked fish salad with dill … and Żubrówka! There it was, listed on the spirits menu, and what better time to try it than before a Polish meal. It arrived in a little vodka glass, ice cold right from the freezer.

I know a true Pole would scoff at me, but instead of knocking the whole thing back, I took a healthy sip first, as I wanted to savor it and get the entirety of the aroma and flavor.

Oh, my.

I instantly fell in love with this stuff. Spicy, yet almost sweet but not syrupy like a liqueur; paradoxically, it was dry yet reminded me of candy — traces of caramel and nougat and vanilla. It also tasted like green herbs, but not medicinal. I tasted flowers, and lemon, and even coconut (!), and so many things going on in there. This stuff’s dangerous. I immediately wanted more.

I’ve never read Somerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge, but in it one character describes the flavor of Żubrówka as smelling of “freshly mown hay and spring flowers, of thyme and lavender, and it’s soft on the palate and so comfortable, it’s like listening to music by moonlight.” I can dig it.

After enjoying our Polish meal and two-plus hours of the finest Cajun music to be heard, the very first thing we did when we got home was to crack open our bottle of authentic Polish Żubrówka. The difference between the domestic Polish and European version and the type produced for export to America is that the most authentic Żubrówka has a long blade of bison grass in the bottle, and the American version doesn’t due to USDA regulations. Apparently there’s also some artificial flavoring involved as well, although I’m not certain about that now (at least one website claims that true bison grass vodka is now legal in all 50 states). The French bottling, which we had, looks like this.

It was goooooood. It was … well, it was like the stuff we had at the restaurant, only a bit more complex, certainly subtler. It was great. However, once we run out of this stuff (and it won’t be long), I think that for the time being I’ll still be happy with the American-export version.

They say that if you travel to Poland and start drinking with the locals, don’t ever try to outdrink them (unless you’re Russian, and then only maybe). I’d better be very careful. If I’m in Warszawa or Cracow, drinking with locals, and they bring this stuff out, I’m a dead man … ’cause it’s so good I would have no incentive to stop unless I become unconscious.

Na zdrowie!

From what I understand, most if not all Poles would consider the consumption of Żubrówka in a cocktail as being a crime, an offence against decency, utter blasphemy. It’s to be consumed ice-cold, alone and quickly. However, my research seems to have uncovered an exception …

This drink, which translates from Polish as “apple tart” and is also sometimes called “Tatanka”, appears to be the one exception to the prohibition against mixing Żubrówka with anything else, and seems to be looked upon fondly. You won’t believe how tasty this is.

Szarłotka
(pronounced “shar-WOT-ka”, I think)

1 ounce Żubrówka (Polish bison grass vodka).
3-4 ounces apple juice.
Lemon wedge.

In a heavy rocks glass, build over ice and stir.
Garnish with the lemon wedge.

Contrary to what seems to be Polish popular opinion, I think that Żubrówka would make an excellent cocktail ingredient. Only two exist in CocktailDB, and I’ve already got some ideas.

Normally we tend to think of long drinks, or gin-based drinks like a Gin and Tonic or Tom Collins as a refreshing summer drink, and not necessarily one made with rye whiskey. This is an exception, with a nice balance of sweet and tart, a brilliant red color and a lovely flavor as well.

Paul Harrington describes this drink thusly: “This whiskey cocktail used to be as bad as it sounds.” Back during the dark days of Prohibition, it was made with Canadian whiskey, often of rotgut quality, that flowed over the border for all the American scofflaws to drink.

I find most common blended Canadian whiskey to be inferior stuff (the vilest example of which is that Canadian Mist stuff that comes in a 1.75 liter plastic jug; never drink whiskey that comes in a plastic container, or any spirits for that matter), so if you want this to be a nice drink instead of a bad drink use real, proper rye whiskey.

Canadian whiskey is a lot of grain neutral spirits blended with grain whiskey, some of which used to be rye in the olden days but today is almost entirely corn, is generally very mild and without distinctive character and by law can contain up to 9% of “additives”, including prune juice. (Oy.)

There are some fine Canadian whiskies on the market, like the release of Canadian Club 30 year, but stick with a good solid rye for this one.

Scofflaw

2 ounces rye whiskey (Bourbon may be substituted).
1 ounce dry vermouth.
1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice.
1/4 ounce real pomegranate grenadine.
1 dash orange bitters.

Shake and strain. Lemon twist garnish.

 
 

We usually make this with the slightly milder ryes like Old Overholt or Pikesville.
And while you’re sipping your Scofflaw, visit a fine cocktail weblog called Scofflaw’s Den, run by my friends Marshall and SeanMike.

This is a near-forgotten classic from the long out-of-print Café Royal Cocktail Book, compiled by W. J. Tarling and published in Britain in 1937. Café Royal was at the time one of the finest restaurants in London (and is now sadly closed forever, as the hotel in which it was housed has been demolished). Back then, however, British and expat American bartenders crafted some of the finest drinks to be had anywhere.

This drink, which we like not only for its lovely flavor but for the fact that it’s got the same name as Wes’ sister, also provides a great alternative use for the passion fruit juice or nectar you may have around for making proper Hurricanes. It was created by a gentleman by the name of G. W. Parker.

 
Melody

1-1/2 ounces Plymouth gin.
3/4 ounce passion fruit juice or nectar.
3/4 ounce Lillet blanc.
2 dashes Calvados.
2 dashes Cointreau.

Shake and strain. Cherry garnish.

 

Absolutely lovely, and a rare classic. I’ll bet your guests will love this one. This is another of those drinks that might just cure a gin-hater.

If you’re feeling adventurous and would like to know what this tasted like when Mr. Parket made it with Kina Lillet, which is what was available at the time, add a tiny pinch (1/16 teaspoon or less) of quinine powder before shaking.

Because what the world needs now is more rye cocktails. Because what the world needs now is more Liberals. Because I don’t think a “Conservative Cocktail” would taste good. (I don’t stock vitriol in my bar, anyway.)

Liberal Cocktail

1-1/2 ounces rye whiskey.
1/2 ounce sweet vermouth.
1/4 ounce Amer Picon (Torani Amer).
1 dash orange bitters.
Lemon twist.

Combine with cracked ice in a shaker or mixing glass. Stir for no less than 30 seconds, then strain into a cocktail glass.

Express the oil from a lemon twist onto the surface of the drink and garnish with the twist.

This is a really good drink.

If you’re serious about cocktails, I once again highly recommend picking up a bottle or two of Torani Amer. It’s a wonderful product, and in its recent reformulation works well in cocktails that call for Amer Picon. It’s not exactly the same as the Picon of old was, but it’s close enough (and it it’s close enough for all those California Basques for their Picon Punch, it’s close enough for me).

Heavens, I’ve got three cocktails of the day backed up. Ah well, it was a busy week last week, what with hectic days at the day job, the radio show and having to finish up the liner notes at the end of the week. I did have time for a few libations, but not much for anything else.

We had this one of the evening of Bloomsday, chosen solely for the syllable “Blooms” in its name and not because it has a single thing to do with Ireland, James Joyce or Leo Bloom; for all I know, it could be named after J. K. Rowling’s publisher (I’ll have to ask Robert sometime). Speaking of whom, this is a DrinkBoy original from 2003.

Licor 43 (or “Cuarenta y Tres”) is from Spain, a rather sweet liqueur with a citrus-vanilla flavor and a supposedly thousand-year-old recipe of fruit juices, herbs, spices and vanilla.

Bloomsbury

2 ounces gin.
1/2 ounce Licor 43.
1/2 ounce Lillet blanc.
2 dashes Peychaud’s bitters.

Combine with cracked ice in a shaker or mixing glass. Stir for no less than 30 seconds, then strain into a cocktail glass.

Express the oil from a lemon twist onto the surface of the drink and garnish with the twist.