The Gypsy Cocktail, or Saying Nice Things About Vodka

Saying nice things about vodka? Heaven forfend.

It’s true, vodka doesn’t get a lot of respect from bartenders these days. It’s true, vodka is responsible for what one of my BarSmarts teachers called “The Era of the Fear of Flavor,” when vodka sales overtook gin sales in the late 1950s, and whiskey sales in the mid-1960s. Yes, it’s the base of a lot of lazy juice drinks, and all those Vodka Tonics we shake our heads to see turned out by the hundreds to people who apparently don’t want to taste much of anything, but want to get lit.

But where would a Moscow Mule be without vodka? I love Moscow Mules.

Vodka provides a bridge between the flavors of gin and Kina Lillet in the original Vesper cocktail.

Vodka in your Bloody Mary, baby. (Although I prefer gin, unsurprisingly.)

Truth is there are plenty of things you can do with vodka, if you use it wisely (i.e., not in something called a “Vodka Martini,” of which there is no such thing). Vodka can be used to round out the flavor of an intense or sweet ingredient, softening it while still maintaining it. A prime example of this comes from David Wondrich, via his first book Esquire Drinks: An Opinionated & Irreverent Guide to Drinking. He introduced me to a cocktail in which vodka is seemingly its base spirit but the true flavor of the cocktail is really based on a liqueur (by David Embury’s formula, something thought of as a modifier).

Bénédictine is a delicious, spicy herbal liqueur and one of my very favorites, but it’s also very sweet. I’m not big on really sweet drinks, and I rarely if ever sip liqueurs alone. This is a great way to enjoy the flavor of Bénédictine while keeping the sweetness in check. The dash of bitters helps bring it all together.

Make sure you use real Bénédictine and not “B&B,” which is a bottled mixture of half Bénédictine and half brandy.

The Gypsy Cocktail

2 ounces vodka.
1 ounce Bénédictine D.O.M. liqueur.
1 dash Angostura bitters.

Stir for no less than 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

This is actually quite nice. Dave says that you can make this with any “funky, herbal” European liqueur, such as Chartreuse, but he prefers this combination.

One of the very first really great cocktail books I picked up about 10 years ago was Paul Harrington’s Cocktail: The Drinks Bible for the 21st Century. In it is an original of his which he called “The Drink Without A Name,” renamed by Robert Hess as The Harrington Cocktail (a much better name, I think). It’s almost entirely vodka, with small amounts of two liqueurs to provide subtle but pronounced flavors. It’s very good (but becuase I can’t help it I’ve made it with gin, and it’s really good with that too, especially with Old Tom).

Vodka is also great for preserving homemade syrups, making spice and herb tinctures, and the like. Your bar is incomplete without it.

Now, that said, there’s really no reason for you to spend a lot of money on “premium” vodka unless you are a vodka connoisseur and enjoy sipping them chilled and neat. Those who enjoy that can discern subtle differences in vodkas based on what they’re made of (wheat, rye, potatoes, grapes, etc.), although that’s not my thing. However, once you put that in a drink all those subtleties disappear.

The best value in vodka on the market right now is Sobieski, from Poland. It wins blind taste tests left and right against vodkas costing five or more times its price, which is about $11 a bottle. It’s worth seeking out.

 

Cocktail of the Day: The Jaguar

Or, the Jag-you-are, if you’re in Britain. (I kid, I kid.)

This one’s from Eastern Standard in Boston, a place where I would undoubtedly be a regular if I lived there (and who were kind enough to have the Hoskins Cocktail on their menu, meaning that to me they are made of awesome), created by Tom Schlesinger-Guidelli, one of their bartenders.

The Jaguar
(by Tom Schlesinger-Guidelli, Eastern Standard, Boston)

1-1/2 ounces silver tequila.
3/4 ounce Amer Picon.
3/4 ounce green Chartreuse.
3 dashes Fee Brothers’ orange bitters.

Stir with ice in a mixing glass for no less than 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Flame an orange peel over the drink, but do not garnish with the peel.

The inspiration to make this came from Paul Clarke’s post on it from a week or so ago, so you can read most of the details there. You’ll probably want to substitute the current reforumlation of Torani Amer, as it’s beautiful stuff; the old Torani Amer’s vegetal-celery notes kinda got in the way the first time I made this drink back in 2007. Jamie Boudreau’s Amer Picon replica would work well too, but if you have actual Amer Picon from France, go for it. The way the tequila works with everything here is beautiful.

 

Cocktail of the Day: Park Avenue

Cocktail of the day. Wes’ turn to mix last night, and he turned to an old favorite, Ted “Dr. Cocktail” Haigh’s Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails, for one I don’t think we’d actually ever tried.

The Park Avenue Cocktail

2 ounces gin.
3/4 ounce pineapple juice.
3/4 ounce sweet vermouth.
2 teaspoons orange Curaçao.

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Doc says, “Note the tropical character, invoking Carmen Miranda strutting down a New York boulevard.” In fact, when I took my first whiff of the cocktail I thought he had put passion fruit nectar in it! “I didn’t, but I smell it too,” Wes said. Ah, the alchemy of cocktails.

 

A Night at the Opera

Inspired by my catch-up on Robert’s video series, I revisited this drink for the first time in a while, and I’m glad I did.

The Opera Cocktail

2 ounces Tanqueray gin.
1/2 ounce Dubonnet.
1/4 ounce maraschino liqueur.
1 dash orange bitters.

Stir with ice in a mixing glass for no less than 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

The maraschino was Maraska, and the bitters were Regans’.

Dubonnet, for those of you who may not be familiar with it, is a red aperitif wine in the same category as sweet vermouth, and fortified to 19% alcohol, so it’ll keep for a little while (keep it in the fridge, though). It’s classified as a quinquina, which is an aperitif wine that contains quinine, and a proprietary blend of spices. It originated in France, but is currently made in the U.S. It’s quite lovely by itself, and is an ingredient in a number of classic cocktails. As much as I like the American version, those who have tried it say that the version made in France (but not exported) is superior.

Dubonnet comes in two varieties, as does vermouth and the other well-known quinquina/aperitif wine Lillet, both red and white. The rule of thumb, though, is that if it calls for Dubonnet, you want red; if it calls for Lillet, you want white. The white Dubonnet and red Lillet varities aren’t nearly as good as their counterparts.

I like Dubonnet a lot, and haven’t had it in a while. We had the dregs of a bottle in the fridge for Gawd knows how long, and now that I’ve got a fresh one (which is no probem for you to keep on hand; it’s almost as cheap as vermouth) I’ll be exploring more Dubonnet cocktails in the next few months.

 

Bourbon Crusta

Basically the same as the Brandy Crusta but with the base spirit switched out. The main reason I’m posting this one separately is so that I can show you how pretty the drink looked back when it was on the regular menu at Seven Grand.

Bourbon Crusta

Bourbon Crusta

2 ounces Bourbon whiskey.
1/2 ounce Cointreau (or other triple sec).
1/2 ounce maraschino liqueur.
1/2 ounce lemon juice.
2 dashes orange bitters.

Shake ingredients with ice and pour into a glass that’s been prepared with a sugared rim. Strain into the glass, and place a whole lemon peel around the rim of the glass.

This is the Crusta recipe that’s been going around these days, but I like to reduce the liqueurs a bit, maybe just a teaspoon of maraschino and 2 teaspoons of Cointreau to make it a bit drier, but it’s a good drink in either proportion. Incidentally, the recipe called for in Jerry Thomas’ How to Mix Drinks called for only a teaspoon of lemon juice, a half-teaspoon of curaçao and no maraschino at all.

We sipped, and enjoyed, and I said it again. “We’re drinking Crustas. In a bar. In Los Angeles. (In mid-2007, this was unheard-of, and the beginning of an amazing cocktail renaissance in the City of Angels.)