From the Obscure New Orleans Cocktails Dept., Part 2

Right on the heels of Dave Wondrich’s introduction of the Rum Ramsey I learned of yet another New Orleans cocktail the very next day, another that I hadn’t heard of before. Dr. Cocktail emailed me to ask what I knew about another Monteleone Hotel creation aside from its wonderful, classic Vieux Carré Cocktail, one called “The Goody”. I had no idea, did a little Googling, and managed to find this:

The Goody
Carousel Bar, Monteleone Hotel, New Orleans

1 ounce light rum.
1 ounce dark rum.
1 ounce orgeat syrup.
1 ounce pineapple juice.
2 ounces orange juice.

Mix well and serve in a tall glass over ice.

Sounds perfectly good and refreshing, but pretty ordinary and not terribly complex; I have an overwhelming compulsion to run to the bar and add bitters, or pimento dram, or something.

From the Obscure New Orleans Cocktails Dept.

I finally picked up Dave Wondrich’s excellent new book Killer Cocktails: An Intoxicating Guide to Sophisticated Drinking. It begins with mixological rudiments (types of liquor, equipment, etc.) which you can skip if you’re no longer a beginner and get into the meat of the matter — the cocktails. There are a lot of drinks in there you won’t find anywhere else, and I can’t wait to get to exploring them. Dave’s writing and cocktail discoveries, both new and forgotten, are as top-notch as always, although there are differences of opinion at our Eagle Rock aerie. I enjoyed The Four Commandments of the Martini, but we do shake Martinis at our house; Wes likes ’em that way, finding them actually colder than when stirred, which is what I prefer — that silky texture and no frakking ice chips. (Dave, if you ever come over, I’ll certainly stir, and I must confess that my own Martini epiphany was a stirred one made by Dale DeGroff.) As much as I’m enjoying it, though, I do have one wee problem with the book.

It’s got a spiral-bound, stand-up design which allows it to stand on the counter like an easel as you mix. Good idea, but someone at the publisher decided that instead of making the book such that you flip consecutive pages as the book faces you, then flip the whole thing over to continue on the other half of the book (i.e., the consecutively numbered pages are on each facing leaf), the pages are printed back-to-back; i.e., you have to flip the whole goddamn thing around after every page if you’re reading it continuously. I found that design unwieldy,and it makes me want to just tear all the pages out and staple them together so I can turn pages without having to flip the entire book around. The contents are worth the annoyance, though.

I was thrilled that Dave came up with a near-forgotten New Orleans cocktail I had never heard of. He says it comes from “The Bon Ton Bar” on Magazine Street in the 1930s; I wonder if that’s the still-extant Bon Ton Café on Magazine, home of some of the best crawfish étouffée and bread pudding in the city. In any case, apparently the bar/restaurant is still there (which leads me to think it’s the same place I’m thinking about) and is the only place in the world that serves this drink.

The Rum Ramsey

1-1/2 ounces Cuban-style white rum.
1 teaspoon Bourbon.
1/2 teaspoon superfine sugar or simple syrup.
1/4 ounce fresh lime juice.
1 dash Peychaud’s Bitters.

Shake and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.
Optional lime wedge or twist garnish.

It was … interesting. I think it’ll be a lot better with a better rum than Bacardi (which was all I had on hand at the time); I’m trying it with Cruzan white rum next time. The single teaspoon of Bourbon gives it a really interesting character, and it certainly merits further experimentation. Thanks, Dave!

Procrastination

Yes, it’s what I do, but it’s not what I’m talking about at the moment.

This is an original creation of my friend, the cocktailan and writer Paul Clarke, who was responding to a challenge on the eGullet Fine Spirits & Cocktails Forum to come up with a good drink containing limoncello. While it’s a fine digestivo by itself, it seems to have been neglected as a potential ingredient in classic cocktails. Paul came up with this one, named because it took him so long to post his drink at the forum (yeesh, sounds like me, and given my own propensities could easily have been named for me).

It’s mighty tasty, and is now the second cocktail in my repertoire to contain limoncello after Dr. Cocktail’s creation, the Lemony Snicket. It kicked our butts, too. “Jeez, hang onto the handrail going down the stairs!”.

The Procrastination Cocktail

2 ounces Bombay gin (regular, not Sapphire).
3/4 ounce Noilly Prat dry vermouth.
3/4 ounce limoncello.
Dash of green Chartreuse.

Stir with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass.
Garnish with lemon peel.

If you really want this to kick your butt, and if you have some, dash in the 142 proof Élixir Vegetal de la Grande Chartreuse.

The Diamondback Cocktail

This was contributed by cocktailian bartender extraordinaire Murray Stenson, of the Zig Zag Café in Seattle. Murray said, “Monday you mentioned Chartreuse, Tuesday you mentioned rye … why not try this one? It has become popular at the Zig Zag.” We did. Wow!

The Diamondback Cocktail
(from Bottoms Up, by Ted Saucier)

1-1/2 ounces rye whiskey.
3/4 ounce green Chartreuse.
3/4 ounce applejack (we used Laird’s 100 proof apple brandy).

Shake with cracked ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.
No garnish.

This was really, really good; complex, sublime, beautifully balanced. Wes said that he found it a very summery cocktail, much to his surprise, given the ingredients. I loved it, and was immediately curious to try it again with yellow Chartreuse. Murray said in other topic’s comments section that they’ve tried a Green Diamondback, Yellow Diamondback and even a green/yellow combination with success. “‘Sublime’ is a perfect description,” he said. Why thank you; ’twas the first word that popped into my head. And thanks for sending the recipe, too!

The Roffignac Cocktail

Gary Regan, sans The Professor today, contributes an article to the San Francisco Chronicle with some authentic pointers for that most French of spirits.

Americans tend to sip their Cognac neat, at room temperature, or warmed slightly by cupping the glass in the palm of the hand. It’s an elegant postprandial potion.

And those with a passion for classic cocktails take their Cognac with Cointreau and fresh lemon juice in the form of a sidecar, one of the world’s most sophisticated mixed drinks.

In France, though, where style is always the name of the game, those in the know drink their Cognac over ice in tall, slender glasses, mixed with all manner of juices and sodas. Are we missing out on something? You’d better believe we are.

On a recent trip through the Cognac region of France, I visited most of the major Cognac houses and expected to be told that nothing should be added to the treasured elixir lest it become contaminated beyond recognition. I was gravely mistaken. I was treated to Cognac mixed with tonic water, ginger ale, club soda and even cranberry juice. The fact is that Cognac has so much character and flavor that it holds its own no matter what you add to it.

How about an old, old New Orleans classic?

The Roffignac

2 ounces Cognac.
1 ounce raspberry syrup.
Soda water or seltzer

Fill a highball glass with ice. Add the first two ingredients, then top off with soda or seltzer. Swizzle and serve.

Count Louis Philippe Joseph de Roffignac was Mayor of New Orleans from 1820 to 1828, and was famous and beloved for, among other things, introducing street lighting to the city and laying the first cobblestones in the French Quarter. He also lent his name to this favorite concoction, sort of an early 19th Century highball.

According to printed recipes the original sweetening agent for this drink in New Orleans at the time was something called “Red Hembarig.” I hadn’t the slightest idea what this was, but when it was pointed out that the German word for raspberry is Himbeere, many agreed that it was probably a misspelling of a German variety of raspberry syrup that was used.

I’ll still use my VS or even VSOP for drinks like this, but for that $60-per-bottle Pierre Ferrand 20-year-old stuff … well, I still like sippin’ that stuff neat.