Category Archives: Cocktails

My love for cocktails was born before I even tasted one. It was during the summer of 1996, and I had just finished up a shift at the Structure store at Faneuil Hall. Outside the building, the sun was still blazing, and the wall of heat that greeted me instantly melted whatever cool good spirits I had built up during the air-conditioned day. By the time I made it up all the steps to the Government Center Green line, I was in no mood.

I caught the beginning of the afternoon rush hour, squeezing into a car and finding a seat behind a talkative lady. Normally I avoid people who seem like they want to talk (and they invariably seek me out like kids or panhandlers). This day I was too hot and tired to be bothered moving, so I let her drone on in the seat in front of me. Far from being annoying, however, her voice was soothing. She sat there, in her sneakers and dress suit, expounding upon how hot it was, and then said she would like nothing more than to have an ice-cold vodka gimlet at Sonsie’s. The vision was simple and arresting – a cool cocktail in a cool bar, nothing more or less than that. And the idea that she could sit there on her own empowered me. It sounded so appealing, such a wonderful thing to do on a hot day.

The crowded commuters faded away, the smells and discomfort departed, and the sweaty stuffiness lifted – all because of that proffered vision. It was the promise of relief and sanctuary in a single glass – the power of suggestion and imagination. It would be a few weeks before I was even old enough to drink, but the enjoyment of a smart cocktail was planted then.

These days, I like a cocktail to be an event, such as the one depicted here. It’s a simple one, culled from FaceBook I think, and modified slightly to my own whims. It came after this light salad of raspberries, spring greens, walnuts, and goat cheese. After a day of lounging by the pool, wilted by the oppressive heat, I just wanted something super-cold, and slightly sweet. (It’s one of the only times when I don’t opt for super-dry.)

Never underestimate the importance of a properly chilled drink. A good bartender isn’t shaking around that ice for exercise or entertainment. Too often, home-made cocktails suffer from lax preparation in this department, and the difference is profound, especially on a week like this. Chill out.

Oh, and don’t forget the garnish.

A word on muddled cocktails: I hate them. With the possible exception of a perfect mojito I once had at the News Cafe in South Beach, I have never enjoyed any sort of muddled nonsense going on in my glass. There is nothing worse than a wet leaf or shred of muddled fruit getting stuck in your teeth when you’re trying to enjoy a drink. However, I have had to rethink my ban on muddled cocktails with the arrival of this one. It’s a Rainier Cherry Muddler, made from the Rainier cherry, and since they won’t be in season forever, get this one while the cherries are fresh and available.

I found the original recipe at the brilliant Sprouted Kitchen website. Check it out, as they do a much more thorough job of explaining the process than I’m going to attempt.

I made a few alterations to this, as I like my drinks a bit on the stronger side. I did away with the sparkling water entirely (we didn’t have any on hand, at least that’s what I’m telling myself). We also didn’t have lemon basil, so I used regular basil and substituted a citrus vodka, and used some lemon verbena as a garnish. Both variations worked out well, and this is now one of my favorite cocktails for the summer. Do it up while the Rainier cherries are around.

For the most part, I like cocktail garnishes to be elegant. Thinly-cut lemon or lime peels, a single sprig of mint or lavender, a trio of olives aligned on a cocktail pick. There’s nothing worse than an obnoxious half-wedge of citrus on the rim of a cocktail glass, one that threatens to throw the whole affair off-balance. (I’m the first to admit that I haven’t always erred on the side of restraint in such matters, but I was younger then, and far more foolish.)

Yet some drinks demand an over-the-top garnish, one that is as much a part of the drink as the alcohol itself, and such is the case with the Bloody Mary. My all-time favorite variation of this meal-unto-itself was created in Cape Cod by my friend Lee. She presented a pint glass of tomato juice, vodka, and horseradish, with a cocktail stick rife with olives, lemon wedges, and even a cocktail shrimp for a brunch treat that took my breath away. From that day forward, I never thought of the Bloody Mary in the same way again.

Another Cape friend, Wally, recommended I give gin a whirl in the place of vodka, and that was a revelation of its own. I actually prefer that twist nowadays, as I find gin preferable to vodka. This past weekend I was inspired by the vesper, and tried the Bloody with equal parts vodka and gin, along with a garnish of fresh dill and dill blossom from the garden.

The blossom part was a bit dicey – in such heat it wilted almost instantly, but the flavor and tart and tangy bite of the dill lent a delicious new slant to the proceedings, and would tie it in nicely to a fresh herb omelette. Here are some of the possibilities for making a Bloody Mary into an event.

The beauty of this cocktail is in the way you want it to go. Pepper infused vodkas, hot sauce, and a habanero garnish can provide as much heat as you can stand, while a simple stalk of celery and a couple of cherry tomatoes can tone it all down. The garnish can be as light or as heavy as you want it to be – on some menus I’ve seen it served as a salad – and as cocktails go, this is one of the healthier ones. Fruits and vegetables in one savory swoop. Every brunch should be so Bloody.

A couple of years ago Andy and I threw ‘The Last Word Lavender Party’ in the midst of a lovely July. While the official cocktail of that evening was the Last Word, the unofficial cocktail for a few select friends (because my lavender was of such short supply) was this lavender cocktail. It’s basically a gin martini with a lavender twist (blasphemy to FUSSYlittleBLOG, I know), but this is actually quite elegant and refined, and anything that’s got bitters can’t be all bad in my book.

The great thing about lavender used in food and libations is that while it is indeed floral, it’s not necessarily sweet. (We all know how much I abhor a sweet cocktail.) In this instance, the gin and the bitters ameliorate any cloying action of the lavender syrup. (I also tend to go easy on any sort of syrup in my drinks, so keep that in mind when referencing the recipe. This isn’t fucking high school.)

A West Coast friend was visiting Sequim, WA and was good enough to send me a batch of the culinary lavender seen here. Culled from the Purple Haze Lavender Farm, it’s a little can of lusciously-scented purple-hued wonder ~ floral gold for the eyes and nose. As luck would have it, one of my lavender plants in the backyard was in bud – the optimal time to harvest – so I used that and amended it with the buds from the can to make up the necessary amount for the recipe. (It also afforded the garnish.)

The most important ingredient is, of course, the lavender, and the syrup is, literally, a simple one:

This is not one of those cocktails you drink all the time, like a martini or a Bloody Mary – this is for special occasions. A summer evening when the lavender is in bloom, or a sunny day when guests are brunching on the patio and bees are buzzing in the garden. I can also see it used on a cold fall or winter day, when the fragrance of lavender is needed to warm the cockles of the heart. It’s an ephemeral drink, when one needs a moment to indulge, to pause and reflect, and then to move on.

My first brush with the lychee was, thankfully, at the Mandarin Oriental in Boston. Sitting at their elegant bar, with impeccably attired and equally-fine-mannered bartending staff, I indulged in their lychee cocktail. Every now and then, especially during the summer, I’ll veer into the sweet territory, but the Mandarin did it right by not going the sugary route. I can’t recall what exactly was in it, but it was heavenly. Give me a fine hotel bar in Boston and I’m generally a happy camper.

On a recent afternoon, while gazing out the window through the falls of a fountain bamboo, I remembered that lychee drink, and when I saw some lychees on sale I bought a can and concocted this ridiculously simple drink. Mine is far from the fancy libation that the Mandarin so expertly prepared – in fact, it’s almost primitive in its simplicity. I used only gin and a small splash of lychee juice, shook it up with some ice, then strained it into a cocktail glass. On paper, I wasn’t sure about the gin and the sweetness, but in a glass it was sublime. The garnish of lychees is what really adds the fanciness here – and as we all know, the garnish is what makes the drink.

It might surprise you to know that I have never tried a piña colada before today. I’m not a fan of the sweet, fruity drinks that require umbrellas, so I’ve stayed away from it in all my drinking life. However, when asking for a good poolside drink, this one came up, and upon looking up the ingredients I decided I could give it a whirl. (The great thing about cocktails is that the proportions are subject to whimsy and the relative degree of tipsiness required.)

It turns out that the piña colada can be made rather potently, with a little extra rum. Not that I did it that way. For the first round, I adhered strictly to the recipe, down to the pineapple and garish maraschino cherry garnish. But after the first, the rum goes down a little easier. It happens.

The Piña Colada

Ingredients

– 2 oz. pineapple juice

– 2 oz. light rum

– 1 1/2 oz. coconut milk

– Pineapple wedge & maraschino cherry for garnish