I’ve been rehearsing a rum cocktail in my head for about a week now. Turning it over and over and trying to make it come together without getting totally smashed in the process. I enjoy dark liquor, I do, but I do not for the life of me know how to mix it well. Standard cocktails are one things. Batshit inventions are another.

So, understandably, I came back to the gin. And decided that it would be nice to do a sweeter take on the Martini with Yellow Chartreuse in the starring role. Which leads me to present to you, Rainy Day Woman, no. 23.

3 parts Gin (No. 209) + 2 parts Yellow Chartreuse + 1 part Lillet Blanc + sugar + lemon twist

First thing: the color is just, well, embarrassing. I wanted it to be golden and it umm… tends more towards the green yet urine-y look. Apologies. I know no one wants to hear about piss cocktails. But that’s kind of how it looks.

And this is where the name came from. Yellow Chartreuse and Lillet Blanc? Blonde on Blonde. That seemed too obvious and boring a title, so I took it one step beyond. As I am wont to do.

Anyway, a tiny bit of sugar gets muddled into the gin (I have no plain simple syrup? What? Why not?), and then goes everything else. I rub copious amounts of lemon peel into the glass, stir the booze, plop the peel in the glass, and fill ‘er up.

It has that beautiful, ineffable, monk-y European herbal liqueur smell to it, which I dig. Can’t much smell the vermouth, but there is a hint of juniper. For whatever reason I’m wary of this thing (the color, no doubt), but it’s time to jump in.

Aaaand… hmm. Well. My first reaction (courtesy my Twitter feed): “Today’s cocktail is nice. It’s pleasant. It’s just not special. A little sad right now. It sounded so tasty in my head.”

So why the Lillet over my nice dry Dolin? It was meant to be a sweeter cocktail, but not a sweet cocktail. I’m not crazy about Italian vermouth in most situations anyway. Negroni notwithstanding.

The thing is, you have to like herby liquers for this to work for you. I do, so it does. There is little to no universality and that was not the point of this. The point of this was to lightly introduce someone to the wonderful world that is chartreuse (and yellow being milder than green…). It’s sweet, but not sweet enough for a scaredy cat. Anyway, that’s no. 23.

Oh, the taste. Right. It taste like gin and chartreuse. The Lillet gets drowned out a bit and the two main flavors feel like… just that. Two. There’s this herbal mouthwashy aftertaste. Nice if you breathe in cold air. Other than that, no good.

She ain’t a gem, but she ain’t no two bit tramp neither. A once pretty lady a bit down on her luck. Caught in the rain. And so it goes.

therestlessspirit:

You should know that somebody, somewhere, is drinking about you.

And I do so hope that person is Louise Brooks.

Today’s cocktail I approached with this requirement: it had to contain either sloe gin, crème de violette, or bourbon. I’m not yet well versed enough in this drink mixing to trust myself to do right by whiskey and as far as the sloe gin is concerned - let’s be honest - I’ll most likely use it in a Sloe Comfortable Screw Against the Wall - if only because the name is ridiculous. So Crème de Violette it was.

The naming this time around was just painful. Every time I saw Violette, I thought of Voletta Wallace. I thought about calling it Cold Nights and Rainy Days, after a song, but the name seemed too cumbersome. In the end, grabbed the name from a line in “Interstate Love Song,” which was on STP’s Purple album of course. It’s a terrible name - Sunday Afternoon - with a sorry origin. So it goes.

In truth, I think it would be an excellent Sunday afternoon in the park kind of cocktail. There’s something sweet and romantic (?) about it. So the recipe…

2 parts Gin (Bombay Sapphire) + 3 parts Crème de Violette (Rothman & Winter) + 1 part Lillet Blanc + 1 part Limoncello + juice of one lemon + lemon twist

Before I iced and stirred the drink, I had a quick taste. With the last homemade cocktail, I had a bit more of idea where I was going whereas this one was a bit of a shot in the dark. First sip was lovely.

I suppose in some ways it started as the bastard child of a Martini and an Aviation. I didn’t want to make this drink to be a version of either plus creme de violette, so it ended up getting twisted a bit. I didn’t want to use Maraschino at all and I didn’t want to use plain French white vermouth, hence the Lillet Blanc. The limoncello was thrown in when I found it digging in the freezer for the gin. It added a great lemon flavor, but it also added some unwanted sweetness. I’m glad the lemon I used was on the large side because this drink is just sweet. Sweet sweet.

The taste of the violet is light, but certainly present. Any more would have made it too sweet. I appreciate the purple tint, but I feel like the color is a bit too reminiscent of a melted grape popsicle.

What it may need is a dash of something bitter. I thought about taking the route of the Atty, but absinthe would have overwhelmed exactly what I like about this drink. More gin may be in order. I would have put more, but I don’t necessarily trust that I will enjoy the flavor of the Bombay. It could be worse, of course, but it could also definitely be better. Maybe a swap of the proportions would help it? (I’ve never known extra gin to not help a thing.)

The other issue is the limoncello. It may have made sense to rinse the glass with it instead of pouring it into the mix. All the perfume, less of the sweetness? Maybe I just need to accept that it’s a bit of a girlie drink and be done with it. Not everything can be hardcore. Especially when it’s purple.

One of my favorite things about the drink is the aftertaste. It finishes completely smooth and slightly sweet with just the lightest hint of gin. I feel like a kiss from me would taste awesome right about now. Not that there’s anyone to kiss.

My music today was kind of perfect for the cocktail: a sampling from Yesterdays New Quintet. Twisted jazz for my twisted cocktail.

After prolonged discussions about my recently acquired rhubarb bitters (thanks, Jeremy!) and an excellent prohibition cocktail (ginger beer and rhubarb bitters - next time a lime twist is in order), I decided to finally do a Monday mixology post. It’s a very very far departure from a Negroni, but that idea is more or less where I started. Given the color, I’m calling it La Comunista. My first impulse was to call it Sangue del comunista. I’m certain that I’ll get better at naming these things as I go along.

3 oz. Gin (No. 209) + 3 oz. Campari + splash of Grenadine (Rose’s) + several liberal dashes of Rhubarb Bitters (Fee Brothers) + juice of one lime + ginger beer to fill

Everything but the ginger beer went into a shaker, which I stirred quickly with some ice cubes. This got dumped into chilled cocktail glasses, then topped off with ginger beer.

The color is shockingly red, as Campari is wont to do. I figured that Grenadine as a sweetener would keep it from going too pink. There’s still a slightly pink tint to it, but overall I feel less girlie than I did with, say, the Jack Rose. These are priorities in my life.

First sip and I will admit that I’m a bit in love. The Rhubarb Bitters add a nice floral note to the bitterness of the Campari. I can’t taste the gin much. The lime and ginger go so well together. Those bitters are so lovely and special; I’m certainly glad that I bought them.

There is something extremely satisfying about concocting something drinkable after last night’s disaster of a fizz.

Though the proportions were moderately Negroni-based, I did forget that the Campari in that drink is evened out by the Vermouth. There’s a slightly bitter edge to this one which I don’t find displeasing, but I’m sure that people would.

Consensus was: less Campari, more ginger. Learn to cut twists and add a lime twist next time. That said, I will definitely be drinking this one again. Soon.

I’ve been on a hunt for sloe gin for a few weeks. I’d had it once before, in a drink at Bourbon & Branch which I believe they called the Casino Royale. (Namely, a Casino with sloe gin. I feel like there must have been some regular gin as well.)

BevMo does not carry sloe gin anymore, which I now know. John Walker, however, does. My most recent acquisitions have all been from there: sloe gin, rhubarb bitters, and creme de violette (which was a birthday present, actually. And I will very much be trying it in an Aviation soon.).

Anyway, the only drink I know with sloe gin is a sloe gin fizz. And I’ve been meaning to try a drink with egg white, so I figured I’d turn mixologist for a minute and whip up a Silver Gin Fizz with equal parts gin and sloe gin. The result? My poorly named Silver Sloe Gin Fizz.

1 1/2 shots gin (No. 209) + 1 1/2 shots sloe gin (Plymouth) + juice of one lime + teaspoon of sugar + one egg white + soda water to fill glass

Egg whites are FUN. I enjoyed the shaking tremendously this time around. Lime, sugar, and egg get mixed then it’s time to add the booze. Quick shake, dump it to fill a highball glass half way, then add the soda water. Hmm…

The conclusion at which I immediately arrive: more booze, less water. It is watery and sweet and basically vile. While I think I would enjoy egg white in a normal drink, this is not the time or place.

Not to mention the fact that the color is horrific. It’s very mauve. Very very mauve. Sloe gin is a fantastic color by itself and it seems a shame to muck it up with all the water and the shaking the egg and the whole affair.

That said, I’m gulping it down if only because I want to try the stuff that’s left in the shaker without the addition of soda water and because I have but one highball glass at my disposal.

Part of the problem, I’m sure, is that a fizz isn’t exactly my type of drink. It’s just too girlie. I’m sad that I’ve wasted both my fancy sloe gin and my delicious normal gin. Not to mention an egg!

Lesson learned.

And as a bit of a postscript: the drink is much better without the soda water. It still isn’t something I’d return to, but it is at least consumable. Always a perk.

The Sazerac is in many ways a go-to cocktail for me. I am a huge proponent of Peychaud’s bitters and I love both whiskey and absinthe. I am not, however, a fan of the effort it takes to make a Sazerac.

Tonight, I wasn’t in much of a rye mood either. Embury offered up this delightful drink, “with pretty much the same flavor as the Sazerac but which can be made with much less fuss and loss of time.”

The more I read this book, the more I am convinced that I was he in a past life. Anyway, the Sazerac-type cocktail recipe he offers up is for the Lotus Club Special.

sugar + several dashes of Peychaud’s + a dash or two of absinthe + a drink of rye or bourbon (Maker’s Mark)

Absinthe was my poision of choice when I was living in Europe. The stuff I used for this drink is the remainder of the last bottle which I smuggled back into the US before realizing that the alcohol had been made legal here. My first absinthe experience was the summer after high school. A friend decided to sneak some home from France in mouthwash bottles. Pretty much all of my friends hated it, but I am not all my friends.

This one smells like bourbon, but I can detect a hint of anise. I love the way that the absinthe and bitters complicate the flavor of the bourbon. This one finishes on a particularly sweet note. I was all out of lemon - and do you know how hard it is to concoct a drink without any lemon around? - but I do think that it could have benefited from at least a twist if not a tiny squeeze as well. Something to cut the sweet.

At least bourbon sweet is a tasty sweet and not a sticky sweet.

Embury notes that, despite its fame, the Sazerac is not a particularly favored cocktail as it pleases neither whiskey drinkers nor absinthe drinkers. Being a bit of both, I am quite partial to the drink. It is also worth noting that the absinthe flavor is not prominent and difficult to pick out in the mix. There is something to be said for the way that rinsing the glass with absinthe flavors the drink, but this isn’t a bad substitute. And no sugar muddling - always a plus. This is something I would come back to.

In other news, I finally busted out the light tent. Clearly, there is a benefit. Even if the thing is a complete hassle. Photographic improvement has never been a goal with this, but if it happens I certainly won’t complain. Never mind the ISO 3200. Or the texture of the paper backdrop.

A recent shopping trip to BevMo netted me Campari, Lillet Blanc, orange bitters, and Maraschino. I had gone to find Sloe Gin, but apparently they don’t carry that anymore. I was told to try Cassis. Right. I also came into possession of a handle of Maker’s - thank goodness for Costco - so I decided that tonight’s drink would have to involve one of the new purchases.

Thumbing through Embury, I decided that the Aviation would be it. Luckily, he doesn’t call for crème de violette. As of that I have none.

8 parts Gin (No. 209) + 2 parts lemon juice + 1 part Maraschino (Luxardo)

The smell is positively foreign to me. The scent of gin is there, but it is the maraschino that takes center stage. Unlike previous cocktails, the lemon seems to have no presence at all, which is actually a nice change. Something about the cocktail called for jazz, so I’ve got Django on and it’s time to dive in.

The flavor is absolutely beautiful and I’m in love from the first sip. I’ve had an Aviation at a bar, but as I recall it they had used maraschino syrup, not maraschino liquor. Pink and sweet, to say in the least. This - a proper Aviation, by modern standards - is a cloudy, off-white with the bright pink of the cherry.

I can’t find the right words to describe the flavor of the maraschino, but it does pair wonderfully with the gin. I do have to wonder if my proportions were correct, however, as I am also unable to taste the lemon. I don’t think the drink suffers from that possible oversight.

The more I drink, though, the more I detect a note of acidity - aha! The lemon! It’s there, but vague.

One of the wonderful things about the drink is that the sweetness is quite well balanced. There is nothing tart about it, but also nothing cloying - all in the all the ideal situation.

As it turns out, the only let down of the drink is the cherry. Its syrupy goodness is too harsh a contrast to the delightful elegance (hah) of the drink. I’d have liked to part with the maraschino flavor in my mouth, not the maraschino cherry flavor. I think I may well forgo it next time around.

Though I’m having trouble isolating exactly what about this drink pleases me so much, please me it does and I will certainly be partaking of Aviations in the future.

My absolute favorite drink looks pretty girlie. I guess in many ways it is pretty girlie. But it could be worse. One of my mother’s many cousins drinks a “Grey Goose Cosmo, shaken hard.” This cousin is one of my favorite people, but that drink order…

The Jack Rose is a pink drink. Gorgeously but embarrassingly pink. A bright, melony, in-your-face pink. The question is of course can I drink this thing and still respect myself afterwards?

8 parts Applejack (Laird’s) + 2 parts lemon juice + 1 part Grenadine (Rose’s)

Embury uses lemon, but numerous sources I’ve encountered suggested limes. I was in a lime mood (I always love lime and grenadine), so that’s the direction I decided to go.

The first smell is delightful. It smells, unsurprisingly, like citrus with a dash of alcohol. Slightly sweet.

In taste, it’s pretty mellow but there is a bit of a lingering, sharp aftertaste. I have to assume that this might taste better with a better Applejack - your cocktail is not going to be able to surmount a bad base. Other than that, it’s really a delightful drink. Unlike the Sidecar, the citrus felt balanced. The grenadine likewise seemed to enhance and not detract. Nothing syrupy or sticky here. All the components really work well together and I understand why Rachel Maddow is such a devotee.

I actually prefer to have a bit of alcohol flavor in my cocktails - I like to remind myself what I’m drinking and not cover it up. A few minutes after a sip, the flavor is mostly dissipated, but there remains a pleasant flavor which somehow reminds me of being in Hawai’i. I guess it reminds me of guava nectar, which is appropriate given the color.

Of the three of six basic drinks that I’ve sampled, this one is - to my surprise - my favorite. All the components played off each other very well and the quality of the Applejack didn’t seem to have too negative an effect on the overall cocktail. This is one pink drink that I can manage to consume without damaging my street cred.

As for my favorite drink? A good rosato frizzante or sparkling rosé. Especially during the summer. But not White Zin. Ever.

The Jack Rose being one of Embury’s six basic drinks necessitated the purchase of some Applejack. And since next to no one makes Applejack today, it had to be Laird’s.

It looks like brandy and smells like brandy and tastes like brandy. I was hoping for a hint of apple flavor or even scent, but no such luck. It’s not terrible, but it’s certainly not the best I’ve had either. I’m not certain that I would have recognized it to be something other than grape brandy had I been blindfolded. Underwhelming and hardly worth the excitement I’d attached to it, pre-tasting.

Given a choice, I would take a good Calvados over Applejack any day. One of the many problems with the stuff is that I have nothing to compare it to. If I can get my hands on some, I’d really like to try Harvest Spirits’ Cornelius Applejack. Because it sounds both special and tasty.

All that said, the Jack Rose is yet to come and could sway me still. And if the drink doesn’t come together, I can always sip some Calvados instead.