Imbibe! (31 page)
Authors: David Wondrich
NOTES ON INGREDIENTS:
The Jack Rose’s basic formula was definitely open to debate. Some early recipes, such as the one downtown New York bartender R. H. Townes gave Bill Boothby some time around 1905 (the first in print), call for lemon juice. Others agree with Straub. Personally, I prefer lime juice in this; its sharp fragrance helps cut the thickness of the grenadine. For the applejack, see Chapter 2. Try to use real grenadine, if possible. Some used to make this drink with a little French vermouth, say
3
/
4
of an ounce, to twice that of applejack, plus the lime and the grenadine to 1½ ounces applejack (thus veteran East Coast “wine clerk” Jere Sullivan, writing during Prohibition). Straub prints this, too—but as that
Royal Smile
. . .
The Jack Rose’s basic formula was definitely open to debate. Some early recipes, such as the one downtown New York bartender R. H. Townes gave Bill Boothby some time around 1905 (the first in print), call for lemon juice. Others agree with Straub. Personally, I prefer lime juice in this; its sharp fragrance helps cut the thickness of the grenadine. For the applejack, see Chapter 2. Try to use real grenadine, if possible. Some used to make this drink with a little French vermouth, say
3
/
4
of an ounce, to twice that of applejack, plus the lime and the grenadine to 1½ ounces applejack (thus veteran East Coast “wine clerk” Jere Sullivan, writing during Prohibition). Straub prints this, too—but as that
Royal Smile
. . .
CLOVER CLUB COCKTAIL
The Clover Club was a rather riotous Philadelphia organization that met at the Bellevue Stratford hotel in that city from the late 1880s until at least the First World War. Dedicated to raillery and refreshment, it was the Friar’s Club of its day, although with more lawyers and fewer professional comics. We don’t know exactly when it was fitted out with a Cocktail of its very own, but it appears to have been rather late in the club’s history. At any rate, if we’re to believe the
Philadelphia Inquirer
’s “Clubs and Clubmen” column, written by a certain A. Jin Rickki, the drink didn’t break out of Philadelphia until 1910. “The ‘Clover Club cocktail’ is fast becoming the rage in New York,” wrote Mr. Rickki. “All of the actors drink it now and the bartenders of the Plaza can teach the man who invented them”—sadly unidentified—“the art of mixing.”
Philadelphia Inquirer
’s “Clubs and Clubmen” column, written by a certain A. Jin Rickki, the drink didn’t break out of Philadelphia until 1910. “The ‘Clover Club cocktail’ is fast becoming the rage in New York,” wrote Mr. Rickki. “All of the actors drink it now and the bartenders of the Plaza can teach the man who invented them”—sadly unidentified—“the art of mixing.”
This recipe comes from the bar-book of the old Waldorf-Astoria, where in 1911 William Butler Yeats, in town with his Irish Players, found the Clover Clubs shaken up by Michael J. Killackey, then the hotel’s head bartender, so seductive that he drank three in a row. There are some who even say he kept at them right through dinner. While I might not go that far, a properly assembled Clover Club is a powerful argument that the center might just hold after all.
JUICE ½ LEMON
½ SPOON
[
1
/
8
OZ]
SUGAR
½ PONY
[2 TSP]
RASPBERRY
[I.E., SYRUP]
¼ PONY
[¼ OZ]
WHITE OF EGG
1 JIGGER
[2 OZ]
GIN
[
1
/
8
OZ]
SUGAR
[2 TSP]
RASPBERRY
[I.E., SYRUP]
[¼ OZ]
WHITE OF EGG
[2 OZ]
GIN
Shake well. Strain.
SOURCE: ALBERT STEVENS CROCKETT,
OLD WALDORF BAR DAYS
(1931; CROCKETT WAS PRESS AGENT FOR THE “HYPHEN,” AS THE HOTEL WAS KNOWN AMONG THE SPORTS, AND WHEN PROHIBITION CLOSED ITS BAR, HE RECEIVED CUSTODY OF ITS HANDWRITTEN BAR-BOOK)
OLD WALDORF BAR DAYS
(1931; CROCKETT WAS PRESS AGENT FOR THE “HYPHEN,” AS THE HOTEL WAS KNOWN AMONG THE SPORTS, AND WHEN PROHIBITION CLOSED ITS BAR, HE RECEIVED CUSTODY OF ITS HANDWRITTEN BAR-BOOK)
NOTES ON INGREDIENTS:
Harry MacElhone, who worked at the Plaza in the early 1910s, suggests lime juice instead of lemon; in either case, ½ ounce should do.
Beverages De Luxe
, a 1911 drink book that prints a Clover Club recipe its authors picked up from the Hotel Belvedere in Baltimore, agrees about the lime and suggests replacing the raspberry syrup with actual raspberries, if in season. This is a fine suggestion, but if adopted, it will require more sugar: say, half a dozen berries and 1½ teaspoons of superfine sugar, depending on the tartness of the raspberries. If you lightly whip the egg white—here to add froth and body—with a fork, you can divide it; otherwise, use 1 white for every two or three drinks.
Harry MacElhone, who worked at the Plaza in the early 1910s, suggests lime juice instead of lemon; in either case, ½ ounce should do.
Beverages De Luxe
, a 1911 drink book that prints a Clover Club recipe its authors picked up from the Hotel Belvedere in Baltimore, agrees about the lime and suggests replacing the raspberry syrup with actual raspberries, if in season. This is a fine suggestion, but if adopted, it will require more sugar: say, half a dozen berries and 1½ teaspoons of superfine sugar, depending on the tartness of the raspberries. If you lightly whip the egg white—here to add froth and body—with a fork, you can divide it; otherwise, use 1 white for every two or three drinks.
Both the Belvedere’s recipe and MacElhone’s (which was presumably the Plaza’s) cut back on the gin and added some vermouth. The Waldorf’s is brighter tasting and simpler (and stronger), but the Plaza-Belvedere school’s is rather more interesting. If you like interesting, I suggest using 1½ ounces of gin (London dry or Plymouth) and 2 teaspoons each of Noilly Prat white and Martini & Rossi red vermouths. Whichever formula you use, float a leaf of mint on top and you’ve got a
Clover Leaf
.
Clover Leaf
.
NOTES ON EXECUTION:
If you use fresh raspberries, muddle them with the sugar and the citrus and double-strain the drink—i.e., use the Hawthorne strainer in the shaker and put a Julep strainer over the glass to catch the raspberry seeds. Like all drinks using eggs, this one will have to be shaken extra hard.
If you use fresh raspberries, muddle them with the sugar and the citrus and double-strain the drink—i.e., use the Hawthorne strainer in the shaker and put a Julep strainer over the glass to catch the raspberry seeds. Like all drinks using eggs, this one will have to be shaken extra hard.
DAIQUIRI COCKTAIL
The first true classic cocktail to be invented outside the United States. I’m going to take advantage of that fact and ignore the whole Cuban part of its history, whatever that might be (let’s just say it’s one of mixology’s great open questions), and focus briefly on its early fortunes stateside. Although the Americans who in 1898 suddenly found themselves in Cuba in great numbers took to Bacardi’s exceptionally smooth, light rum pretty much instantly, it needed about ten years for it to filter across the Florida Straits and invade the invader. After a couple of years of percolating, in the mid-1910s it suddenly became a sensation. The usual mixological capers ensued. New Cocktails were mixed, with racy new names (the September Morn, named after a famous painting of a naked chick; the Jazz, named after a music that was considered to be a concatenation of vulgarity). Old Cocktails were dug up and rebored to fit the new spirit, and everybody ran around trying to figure out how to make ’em all.
1 JIGGER
[2 OZ]
BACARDI RUM
2 DASHES
[1 TSP]
GUM SYRUP
JUICE OF ½ LIME
[2 OZ]
BACARDI RUM
[1 TSP]
GUM SYRUP
Shake well in a mixing glass with cracked ice, strain and serve.
SOURCE: HUGO ENSSLIN,
RECIPES FOR MIXED DRINKS
(1916; ENSSLIN ACTUALLY CALLS THIS THE “CUBAN COCKTAIL,” BUT HE CORRECTS IT IN A LATER EDITION. JACQUES STRAUB HAD ALREADY PUBLISHED A FORMULA IN 1914, BUT IT WAS GARBLED)
RECIPES FOR MIXED DRINKS
(1916; ENSSLIN ACTUALLY CALLS THIS THE “CUBAN COCKTAIL,” BUT HE CORRECTS IT IN A LATER EDITION. JACQUES STRAUB HAD ALREADY PUBLISHED A FORMULA IN 1914, BUT IT WAS GARBLED)
NOTES ON INGREDIENTS:
In the absence of true Cuban Bacardi, one is reduced to finding a substitute or smuggling Havana Club in from abroad (the Cuban H. C. is made in part in the old Bacardi plant). This is of course illegal (but get the three-year-old). The Flor de Caña from Nicaragua is a fine and economical substitute, but many other white rums will work as well. Alas, the modern Bacardi is not among them—it’s just too light (10 Cane, from Trinidad, is another favorite). Some Progressive Era American bartenders took to sweetening their Daiquiris—aka “Bacardi Cocktails”—with grenadine. This makes for a nice pink drink, but it muddies up the clean flavor of the original. A better option is to make it the Cuban way, with ½ teaspoon of superfine sugar as the only sweetener.
In the absence of true Cuban Bacardi, one is reduced to finding a substitute or smuggling Havana Club in from abroad (the Cuban H. C. is made in part in the old Bacardi plant). This is of course illegal (but get the three-year-old). The Flor de Caña from Nicaragua is a fine and economical substitute, but many other white rums will work as well. Alas, the modern Bacardi is not among them—it’s just too light (10 Cane, from Trinidad, is another favorite). Some Progressive Era American bartenders took to sweetening their Daiquiris—aka “Bacardi Cocktails”—with grenadine. This makes for a nice pink drink, but it muddies up the clean flavor of the original. A better option is to make it the Cuban way, with ½ teaspoon of superfine sugar as the only sweetener.
NOTES ON EXECUTION:
If you make this with superfine sugar, dissolve it in the lime juice before adding the rum and ice. Daiquiris were often served frappé, which is to say poured into a Cocktail glass full of finely shaved ice. Save this option for days when it’s 100 degrees with 100 percent humidity.
If you make this with superfine sugar, dissolve it in the lime juice before adding the rum and ice. Daiquiris were often served frappé, which is to say poured into a Cocktail glass full of finely shaved ice. Save this option for days when it’s 100 degrees with 100 percent humidity.
AVIATION COCKTAIL
One of the last truly great Cocktails to be invented before Prohibition. In recent years, this once-obscure combination of gin, lemon juice, and maraschino liqueur has become a favorite of true Cocktail fiends everywhere. It is generally considered to be a London drink, since its most prominent early appearance was in Harry Craddock’s classic
Savoy Cocktail Book
, published in 1930. In fact, its origins lie in pre-Prohibition New York, for it is among the formulae found in the last serious Cocktail book published in Gotham before the great drought—the 1916
Recipes for Mixed Drinks
, by the thirty-year-old German-born head bartender at the Wallick House Hotel in Times Square, Hugo Ensslin. Although Ensslin’s book was one of the prime sources for both Craddock (who nicked from it such Savoy favorites as the Affinity, the Fair
Official Mixer’s Manual
plundered it wholesale, the extreme rarity of
Recipes for Mixed Drinks
has prevented its author from getting credit where it is due.
Savoy Cocktail Book
, published in 1930. In fact, its origins lie in pre-Prohibition New York, for it is among the formulae found in the last serious Cocktail book published in Gotham before the great drought—the 1916
Recipes for Mixed Drinks
, by the thirty-year-old German-born head bartender at the Wallick House Hotel in Times Square, Hugo Ensslin. Although Ensslin’s book was one of the prime sources for both Craddock (who nicked from it such Savoy favorites as the Affinity, the Fair
For the citrus-heavy Cocktails fashionable in the years before Prohibition, bartenders rolled out the heavy artillery. (Author’s collection)
and Warmer, the Fluffy Ruffles, and the Raymond Hitchcocktail) and Patrick Gavin Duffy, whose classicOfficial Mixer’s Manual
plundered it wholesale, the extreme rarity of
Recipes for Mixed Drinks
has prevented its author from getting credit where it is due.
Of course, just because Ensslin printed the first recipe for the Aviation, that doesn’t mean he invented it—the only notice of the drink I’ve been able to find in the contemporary press, a 1911 three-liner from the pages of the Albany, New York,
Knickerbocker Press
, merely notes that “The ‘aviation cocktail’ is the latest,” with no clue as to its origin. The new sport of aviation was much in the news at the time, and there were two other drinks of the same name floating around (one merely a Jack Rose with a dash of absinthe, the other a rather unimpressive fifty-fifty mix of Dubonnet and dry sherry with an orange twist)—and no hint of who might be responsible for them, either.
Knickerbocker Press
, merely notes that “The ‘aviation cocktail’ is the latest,” with no clue as to its origin. The new sport of aviation was much in the news at the time, and there were two other drinks of the same name floating around (one merely a Jack Rose with a dash of absinthe, the other a rather unimpressive fifty-fifty mix of Dubonnet and dry sherry with an orange twist)—and no hint of who might be responsible for them, either.
One thing that has always puzzled the drink’s aficionados:
Whence the name? Here, too, Ensslin makes himself useful. His Aviation recipe calls for one additional ingredient that didn’t make it into Craddock’s final recipe: Besides the maraschino, there’s also a bit of crème de violette, a violet-flavored liqueur that tints the drink a pale sky blue and, incidentally, explains its name.
1
/
3
[¾ OZ]
LEMON JUICE
2
/
3
[1½ OZ]
EL BART GIN
2 DASHES
[1½ TSP]
MARASCHINO
2 DASHES
[1 TSP]
CRÈME DE VIOLETTE
/
3
[¾ OZ]
LEMON JUICE
/
3
[1½ OZ]
EL BART GIN
[1½ TSP]
MARASCHINO
[1 TSP]
CRÈME DE VIOLETTE
Shake well in a mixing glass with cracked ice, and serve.
SOURCE: HUGO ENSSLIN,
RECIPES FOR MIXED DRINKS
(1916)
RECIPES FOR MIXED DRINKS
(1916)
NOTES ON INGREDIENTS:
El Bart has gone to that happy land far, far away where Crazy Eddie zooms around in his Kaiser-Frazer with his arm around Virginia Dare and Burma Shave loafing in the backseat. No matter; since El Bart was a sponsor of Ensslin’s book, we can assume that its selection here was driven by other than gustatory necessity. In other words, use the (dry) gin you like. To my palate, Ensslin’s equilibrium between the maraschino and crème de violette produces a drink that tastes like hand soap; I prefer more maraschino and less of the blue stuff—just enough to produce the requisite color, but not so much as to shoot the drink down. If you like it sweeter, it’s better to round the drink out with a touch of simple syrup rather than adding more of the liqueurs, as they have a tendency to hijack the drink.
El Bart has gone to that happy land far, far away where Crazy Eddie zooms around in his Kaiser-Frazer with his arm around Virginia Dare and Burma Shave loafing in the backseat. No matter; since El Bart was a sponsor of Ensslin’s book, we can assume that its selection here was driven by other than gustatory necessity. In other words, use the (dry) gin you like. To my palate, Ensslin’s equilibrium between the maraschino and crème de violette produces a drink that tastes like hand soap; I prefer more maraschino and less of the blue stuff—just enough to produce the requisite color, but not so much as to shoot the drink down. If you like it sweeter, it’s better to round the drink out with a touch of simple syrup rather than adding more of the liqueurs, as they have a tendency to hijack the drink.
WARD EIGHT
The Ward Eight looms large in the mythical history of mixology, wherein it stands tall as the Champion of the Hub, proving to one and all that when Boston was called upon to contribute a Cocktail to the great pageant of American intoxication, it did not say “I shall not serve.” The story goes—well, if I may quote myself, here’s what I said in
Esquire Drinks
: “They say this old smoothie was inaugurated at Boston’s ancient Locke-Ober restaurant, at the victory supper (held the night
before
the election, naturally) for Martin ‘the Mahatma’ Lomasney, running for something or other from Boston’s Ward Eight.” All well and good, but try documenting it. Other than a garbled description—as “what the Irish drink in Boston”—in a 1918 novel (which, truth be told, does add that after one “you’re ready to vote right,” which may be a jab at its origin) and a passing reference in a 1920
New York Times
article about the dawn of Prohibition in Massachusetts, the newspapers and history books are of no assistance. Considered from a mixological point of view, the presence of grenadine in the drink makes it somewhat unlikely that it goes all the way back to 1898, when the little drama in question supposedly took place; grenadine was the hot ingredient of the 1910s, and very rare before that. But we may never know.
Esquire Drinks
: “They say this old smoothie was inaugurated at Boston’s ancient Locke-Ober restaurant, at the victory supper (held the night
before
the election, naturally) for Martin ‘the Mahatma’ Lomasney, running for something or other from Boston’s Ward Eight.” All well and good, but try documenting it. Other than a garbled description—as “what the Irish drink in Boston”—in a 1918 novel (which, truth be told, does add that after one “you’re ready to vote right,” which may be a jab at its origin) and a passing reference in a 1920
New York Times
article about the dawn of Prohibition in Massachusetts, the newspapers and history books are of no assistance. Considered from a mixological point of view, the presence of grenadine in the drink makes it somewhat unlikely that it goes all the way back to 1898, when the little drama in question supposedly took place; grenadine was the hot ingredient of the 1910s, and very rare before that. But we may never know.
The only pre-Prohibition recipe for the drink is a rather lackluster affair, so I’ve taken the liberty of substituting one a reader sent to G. Selmer Fougner of the
New York Sun
when he called for information on the drink, right after repeal. “The basis of a ‘Ward 8’ was a whisky sour,” the reader wrote with unmistakable authority, “the idea being to eliminate certain objectionable features of that drink. The Ward 8 was distinctly a warm weather drink, and should be so considered. It was always served in a large, heavy glass of the type generally used for beer—that is, with a large round bowl.” His recipe is equally precise.
New York Sun
when he called for information on the drink, right after repeal. “The basis of a ‘Ward 8’ was a whisky sour,” the reader wrote with unmistakable authority, “the idea being to eliminate certain objectionable features of that drink. The Ward 8 was distinctly a warm weather drink, and should be so considered. It was always served in a large, heavy glass of the type generally used for beer—that is, with a large round bowl.” His recipe is equally precise.
[NOTE: FOR QUANTITIES, SEE NOTES ON EXECUTION, BELOW.]
Juice of one lemon,one barspoon of powdered sugar,a large whisky glass three-quarters full of Bourbon (dissolve the sugar in the juice and whisky),place a rather large piece of ice,in the glass,pour in glass,add three or four dashes of orange bitters,three dashes of crème de menthe, one-half jigger grenadine,fill glass with either plain water or seltzer, add two half slices orange,piece of pineapple and one or two cherries.
When fresh mint is available the crème de menthe is omitted, and a slightly bruised sprig of mint added with the slices of orange, &c. This is an improvement.
Many prefer the juice of half an orange instead of the orange bitters. The amount of sugar should be regulated to taste, and likewise the grenadine. The important factors are good liquor and care in mixing. Properly made, the drink is very pleasant, although highly potent.
SOURCE: G. SELMER FOUGNER,
ALONG THE WINE TRAIL
(1934)
ALONG THE WINE TRAIL
(1934)
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