Reimagining the Lucien Gaudin Cocktail

I remember the first time I ran across the Lucien Gaudin cocktail. It was years ago now, when I first acquired my copy of Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails. I was newly obsessed with Campari drinks--not that this has changed over time--and this one seemed like one that I needed to try. I did, but the cocktail failed to make an impression. It was fine, just not memorable.

When people talk about the Lucien Gaudin cocktail, they usually focus on the man, Lucien Gaudin. Yes, he was a fencer, but not just your average fencer. He dominated the sport and is still tied as the record holder for best Olympics performance in French history for his performance in the 1920, '24, 1and '28 Olympics. While all of this is incredibly impressive and worthy of remembrance, I would wager that the reason why most cocktail writers focus so much attention on the man and not the cocktail is because the drink fails to impress on its own merits.

The Lucien Gaudin cocktail was first printed in an obscure French drinks manual, Cocktails des Paris, published in 1929. Its creation is credited to a man named Charlie of Cheval-Pie, who won the cup of honor for the drink in 1929. A couple tomes after that remember it, but not many. Until Ted Haigh brought it back, this drink seemed destined to be forgotten.

I have revisited the drink several times over the years. I have never been able to crack the mystery of why this drink has come back from the depths of cocktail history.  I have tried making it with different products to find that perfect harmony. I have swapped out the Campari for Luxardo bitter. I have utilized myriad gins and vermouth. I have even used different curacaos instead of Cointreau and changed the proportions. Nothing seemed to matter. The drink just falls flat for me, its flavors muddied. Recently I saw a variation online that made me want to revisit the Lucien Gaudin. Boy, was I glad that I did.

Lucien Gaudin (variation by Ken Gray, NYC)

1 1/2 ounces Old Tom Gin
1/2 ounce Luxardo bitter
1/2 ounce Giffard Curacao
1/2 ounce cocchi americano

Stir ingredients and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

The changes aren't really that monumental--a softer gin, and a bittersweet fortified wine. These two new ingredients alter the drink from forgettable to delicious. Instead of straying into the hard to conquer land of dry and herbal, the roundness of the combination of tom gin and cocchi makes the the Campari and orange liqueur pop. The end result is balanced and tasty--a drink worthy of remembering.

How About a Little Restraint with Your Bitter: The Bitter Padre

Bitter used to be my middle name. An order of brown, bitter, and stirred would have me rapt, watching the bartender like a hawk. Mere mentions of new amari online, had me scouring the city's back bars in search of a taste. And often this search would just lead to me procuring my own bottle. I experimented with adding bitters, digestive or aromatic, to every classic cocktails I came across, whether it was a daiquiri, the Japanese cocktail or even a Cosmopolitan. My obsession knew no bounds.

But then something happened. My girlfriend is not so into amari (shock and horror!). As I sought to make her cocktails that she liked, I found myself staring blankly at my liquor collection. Where would I even start? How could I make a cocktail without using a bitter ingredient? In trying to please her very developed palate, I had to think outside of my comfort zone. At first it was frustrating but I now believe that this was the best thing to happen to me. I was very far down the path to forgetting what a balanced cocktail tastes like. Just because a drink is strong and bitter, doesn't mean it is balanced.

Balance is the key factor in creating a successful cocktail. A great bartender can create a drink that is sweet and still balanced, tart and balanced, strong and balanced. Granted being able to make a drink to suit your audience is also important and should provoke creative individuals to think outside of their comfort zone. The hard part of this comes from the fact that your senses crave what you actually put in your mouth. Say you eat a lot of chocolate. You will then crave chocolate. If you eat bitter chocolate, you will crave bitterness. Too little awareness of this can create a palate that is hopelessly out of whack.

As I started thinking about this fact, it became a lot easier to make cocktails that were adjusted to my girlfriend's taste. The more I challenged myself to look beyond of the brown, bitter, and stirred category, the more I found that I liked different things. New flavor combinations came to mind easier. But most important, I regained my knowledge of where balance is.

Don't get me wrong, I still l love a big flavorful, and yes bitter, cocktail. It just has to ring with the right balance. Many go too far, and perhaps solely for bragging rights. The following drink may look like that on paper but it's not. Full of big flavor? Hell yes. But it is tempered, restrained. And it is in that restraint that success comes. Might it still make my girlfriend scrunch her face? Well yes, but even she agrees that it is balanced. And there is one secret ingredient that makes it all work: salt.

Bitter Padre (created by Nikki Worley, Witness)

3/4 ounce mezcal
3/4 ounce Cynar
3/4 ounce Campari
3/4 ounce Fernet Branca
pinch of salt

Stir all ingredients with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange twist. 

Notes on Ingredients: I did not have Campari, so substituted Luxardo Bitter. I also used Fidencio mezcal. The original calls for del Maguey's vida.

A Tale of Three Drinks Featuring Pineapple Syrup

Spring is a season you just can't count on here in the Pacific Northwest. Sure, you may get a week of eighty degree weather, but often it is chased by a dreary rainy patch where the temperature swings twenty degrees back into the low sixties. But even as I will summer to arrive by wearing lightweight coats that keep me shivering, I figure I have to make my own sunshine. While I have a friend who says that when he tastes a bit of rum, how can the sun not be out, I opt for a different tack. Pineapple. Not only is fresh pineapple simply a blissfully tasty snack, but a single pineapple can also create a syrup that can compel sunshine from the door of your refrigerator. The best part is that pineapple syrup is incredibly easy to make. All you need is a knife and a cup of simple syrup. Breaking down the pineapple is the only obstacle. But once you've got this delicious syrup, what do you do with it besides pour it generously over ice cream or pancakes?

A San Francisco Legend
Born in the late 1800s, pisco punch is one of the earliest, more famous uses for pineapple syrup. Duncan Nicol, proprietor of the Bank Exchange Saloon in San Francisco, saw his pisco punch gain notoriety far and wide. Travelers from all over the country heard tales of this potent concoction and then made their way in droves through his doors to get a taste. The drink centers on pisco, a spirit first introduced to the United States by South American sailors as they passed through San Francisco. Even today pisco is very popular in San Francisco. And while this lesser known spirit forms the base, it is the pineapple that makes this drink sing. For years, the recipe for pisco punch was a mystery. At the beginning of Prohibition, Nichols refused to disclose the recipe as he closed up shop forever. Thankfully, a discovery made in the 1970s brought the drink back. In truth, it is a very simple punch. Which begs the question, What made it so famous that its praises were sung coast to coast?  Rumor has it that cocaine is what really gave this drink its kick. Still others have posited that the secret ingredient was actually the syrup. Instead of pineapple macerated in simple syrup, the original recipe called for pineapple gomme syrup. The pineapple is steeped in a syrup with gum arabic in it, a common ingredient in the 1800s that fell out of popularity. The cocktail renaissance has, however, brought it back. Gomme syrup provides a drink with a velvety texture and a richness that are unique.

Pisco Punch

2 ounces pisco
1 ounce water
2/3 ounce (4 teaspoons) pineapple gum syrup
3/4 ounce lemon juice.

Shake ingredients with ice and strain into a punch glass. Garnish with a syrup-soaked pineapple chunk.

Note on Ingredients: I used Piscologia pisco. I also used a 2:1 simple syrup for the base of my pineapple syrup in place of the pineapple gum syrup. The richness adds a similar but not exact texture to cocktails While it is not the same as gum syrup, it is easier to make at home.

Blast from the Past
Fixes are a product of a long forgotten era--when individualized pours were steadily overtaking the communal punch bowls of old. Long before the cocktail would become a catch-all phrase for any drink in a conical glass, drinks that followed a formula were popular--sours, fixes, daisies, fizzes, and Collins just to name a few. Collins and fizzes both preserved the soda water element. Sours became concentrated punches in short form. Daisies and fixes revolved around different choices for sweetener, though no clear pattern was ever established. While differences come and go between the daisy and the fix, the treatment of the ice creates the distinction--fixes are served over crushed ice, daisies, like sours, are not.

Though liqueurs and various other sweeteners were used in fixes, my favorite variation is still Harry Johnson's Brandy Fix. Pineapple syrup was a common choice among bartenders of the time, but it is the green chartreuse that really caught my attention. Green chartreuse and pineapple go extremely well together--the sweetness of the fruit works balances out the herbal intensity of the chartreuse. The Dean surely stumbled upon a great pairing there.

Brandy Fix (Harry Johnson, Bartender's Manual, 1900)

2 ounces brandy
1/2 ounce fresh lime juice
1/2 ounce pineapple syrup
dash of green Chartreuse (1/4 ounce)
1/4 ounce simple syrup

Shake with ice and strain into a wine glass or tumbler filled with crushed ice. Add a splash of seltzer, adorn with lots of fruit and go to it.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Pierre Ferrand 1840 cognac, and a 1:1 simple syrup.

A Bittersweet Variation
 During the summer, Campari goes in everything and variations of variations of Negronis abound. I am also not ashamed to admit that I do very much enjoy the reddish pink hue that every Campari-laced cocktail takes on. The shade reminds me of perfect summer sunsets, of watching the sun steadily drift behind the Olympic mountains. Perhaps not surprisingly, Campari pairs quite well with pineapple. I first learned this on a Tiki Sunday while I was visiting Drink in Boston a couple of years ago. After asking for something unusual to follow a lovely champagne cocktail, I was presented with a Jungle Bird. This exotic tiki drink originated from the Avery Hotel in Kuala Lumpur in 1978 and it combines dark rum,lime juice, Campari and pineapple juice.

With a new batch of pineapple syrup in my fridge, I remembered the Jungle Bird and began looking for other drinks that match up pineapple and Campari. My search led me to the Argonaut, a drink created to celebrate Campari's 150th anniversary in 2010. The drink could easily be seen as a play on the pisco punch, where the interaction between the Campari and the pineapple take center stage. This is definitely a drink to witness the day as it transitions into night.

Argonaut (Marco Dionysos)

1 ounce Campari
1 ounce pisco
3/4 ounce pineapple syrup
1/2 ounce lemon juice
1/2 ounce orange juice
2 dashes orange bitters

Shake ingredients with ice and strain into a highball glass filled with ice. Garnish with an orange twist.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Piscologia pisco, Angostura orange bitters, and Gran Classico and Aperol to approximate the Campari.

Adventures in Tequila (part 1)

I used to be indifferent to tequila. Early in my drinking career , I couldn’t stand tequila and the lack of choices never really compelled me to change my mind. With the tequila shots, the tequila slammers and lackluster margaritas—watered down, over-salted monsters consisting of powdered sour mix and cheap, rough spirits—more often than not I just passed. A lot of things have changed since those days. A tequila slammer still doesn’t sound all that appetizing, but oh, how the landscape of options has changed. My relationship with tequila really began to change a couple of summers ago when Tracy and I went to a local Mexican restaurant. This restaurant has a substantial list of tequilas, and because of that they offer tequila flights. There is simply no better way to really explore a new spirit than to have a flight. I remember it was a Chinaco flight, blanco, reposado and anejo. Though my mouth wasn’t accustomed to the flavors, the experience was an eye-opener and I was determined to learn more. Now not only is tequila one of my favorite cocktail ingredients, I have also become enamored with mescal. Lucky for me, and everyone else as well, tequila has recently taken off in popularity in many craft cocktail bars. New tequila concoctions show up on bar menus and the Internet with regularity, and all of them push far beyond the classic margarita or paloma. Bartenders are pairing the different types of tequila with herbal liqueurs, bitter digestivos, and wine-based aperitifs to create new flavor combinations that are not only unexpected but also delicious. Last weekend Tracy and I focused our cocktail attention on some of those tequila cocktails that utilize some of those unusual ingredients. On Friday, we started with the Rosita.

Rosita

1 1/2 ounce reposado tequila (Milagro)
1/2 ounce Dry Vermouth (Noilly Pratt)
1/2 ounce sweet vermouth (Martini & Rossi)
1/2 ounce Campari

In a mixing glass filled with ice, stir ingredients. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with a lemon twist (I used a Meyer)

This cocktail is beautiful, though I am sure the picture doesn’t do it justice. The Campari provides the bright red color and I am sure that the sweet vermouth just deepens it. The aroma is filled with the oils of the Meyer lemon twist, though I could also detect the faintest hint of tequila. Tracy didn’t find that the tequila stood out in the aroma, but instead she detected the familiar herbs of the Campari. As we dove in, the taste of the citrus was the first thing we noted. The bold flavors of the Campari and the reposado dominated soon thereafter, and remained potent even as the drink warmed up. I could only faintly detect the grape flavor of the vermouth in the aftertaste. Overall the drink was great, but we both thought it was a bit less complex than some others we have had. The flavors just didn’t evolve as much over the course of the cocktail—not that it wasn’t a tasty aperitif. The Rosita is a perfect aperitif, dry and refreshing, just what is needed in a preprandial. The combination of the smoky tequila, the bitterness of the Campari, and the spike of brightness from the citrus was exceptionally tasty.

The next drink we tried I found on Chuck Taggert's blog, Looka! The Broadway Theatre District Cocktail was a winner in a cocktail contest in Los Angeles where all of the entries were named for local neighborhoods. One of the more interesting contest rules was that the cocktails could not include citrus juice.

Broadway Theatre District Cocktail

2 ounces anejo tequila (Corralejo)
3/4 ounce bianco vermouth (Dolin)
1/4 ounce Benedictine
1 dash grapefruit bitters (Fee's)
1 dash Xocolatl bitters (Bittermens)

Stir ingredients in an ice-filled mixing glass. Strain into an absinthe-rinsed cocktail glass. Garnish with a flamed orange peel.

This cocktail has a translucent golden glow that reminds me of straw. The aroma is full of citrus, which makes sense since I can actually see the oils from the twist right on the surface. There is also the distinct smell of anise and the herbs from the Benedictine and vermouth. Tracy noted that she could also detect the cactus smell of the anejo. On first sip, the tequila dominates the flavors. The cocktail's creamy texture also stands out and it provides a rich, velvety mouth feel. The bianco vermouth and Benedictine combine with the tequila to produce a complex sweetness that is nowhere near cloying. In fact it is downright refreshing considering the potential for sweetness in those two elements. The anejo provides the backbone of the drink, and the orange oils and herbal notes are expertly layered on top of it. The mellow anise of the absinthe rinse and smoky tequila linger after each sip. We both thought this drink was complex and well-balanced, a definite winner. It is no surprise though that the tequila-Benedictine pairing worked so well after stumbling on the Nouveau Carré. This is just another tasty example. Now all I need to do is learn how to flame an orange peel and we will really be in business.