Baker's Cherry Beauty: The Parisien Cherry Ripe

You should never judge a cocktail solely on the way that its recipe reads. I have been disappointed by cocktails that on paper sounded delicious and pleasantly surprised by ones that seemed to present at best a hot mess. Like when dealing with people, giving a cocktail a chance can often provide a deeper insight into what is really going on beneath the surface. At the very least you will learn exactly what it is that you don't like instead of just guessing what you might not like. Knowledge comes in having the concrete details. Perhaps there is no better time to reserve judgment than when dealing with a Charles Baker drink.

We catch up with our unreliable narrator and guide in the City of Lights, fresh from an outing to Bois du Boulogne where he took in a bit of tennis. And once again we are faced with a drink that at least on paper seems incredibly suspicious. But what really had my mixing tins quaking was the fact that even Baker proclaims the drink "one of the most foetid conceptions ever to come out of a shaker when served improperly chilled." Baker drinks issued without such admonitions can be scary, but with them . . . terrifying to the point of prompting an immediate fit of page-flipping. Truth be told, I almost skipped it. But because I actually had all of the major ingredients and have been proven wrong on more than one occasion, I proceeded hesitantly.

Parisien Cherry Ripe 

1 1/2 ounces gin
3/4 ounce Cherry Marnier
3/4 ounce Kirsch

Blend with crushed ice. Float 1 tsp Cherry Marnier. Garnish with green and red maraschino cherries.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Beefeater gin and omitted the cherry garnish as I was out.

Notes on Method: Though normal practice would warrant stirring, as no juices or cream is included, Baker's requirement of extreme coldness prompted me to change tack. And while Baker describes using a Waring mixer, I chose instead to shake the ingredients with ice and strain the mixture over new freshly crushed ice. 

While this was not the vilest Baker concoction I have ever tasted, which surprised me, it definitely will not win any awards or new Baker followers. Initially it was just too much all cherry all the time. Though spirits make up 75 percent of the recipe, the Cherry Marnier still managed to dominate the drink with its slightly earthy, yet overwhelming sweetness. The dryness of the gin and the slightly nutty kirsch did pair nicely and actually peeked out on occasion, but it was not enough to save this cocktail. And as much as I love a good snow cone, this tipple only resonated on one note and could not hold my interest.

After perusing other cocktail guides as well as the Internet, I discovered that this drink actually predates Baker's world travels. This boozy cherry monster can be found in the Savoy Cocktail Book (1930) not under the moniker of the Parisien Cherry Ripe, but as one of a trio of drinks called the Rose Cocktail (French Style Nos. 1-3). Baker's cocktail and the French Rose No. 2 are exactly the same, except for Baker's decorative additions--the shaved ice and colorful maraschino cherries. The other two variations only include one cherry flavoring agent--either cherry liqueur or kirsch--not both. The French Rose Cocktail No. 1 replaces the kirsch with dry vermouth, while No. 3 replaces the cherry liqueur with syrup de groseille and the gin with dry vermouth.

While trying to figure out how to amend the Parisien Cherry Ripe, these two French Rose versions kept popping into my head. Perhaps the secret to fixing Baker's cocktail would be hidden in the differences. Both of these cocktails are noticeably less boozy. More important, though, might be their dryness as both call for dry vermouth. A bit of dryness certainly couldn't hurt. Though I usually try to stay true to the original ingredients, I decided an additional element might provide the balance and depth this cocktail was missing. Though dry vermouth may have been the natural choice, I chose to insert the acidity and dryness of sparkling wine. While it did help tone down the sweetness, it was the dash of orange bitters that really created an interesting contrast for the earthier flavors of the Cherry Marnier.

New Parisien Cherry Ripe

1 1/4 ounces gin
1/2 ounce Cherry Marnier
1/2 ounce Kirsch
1 dash orange bitters

Stir ingredients with ice in a chilled mixing glass. Strain into a chilled champagne flute or coupe. Add 1 1/2 ounces of dry champagne or sparkling wine.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Beefeater gin, Angostura orange bitters, and Yellowtail sparkling wine.

Trying to improve upon a Baker cocktail often results in a concoction that is only marginally better than the original. Usually it is the initial ingredients that provide the biggest obstacles. Whether the original is off-balance, lacking depth, or completely undrinkable, sometimes only one factor will stand for improvement. In this case, adding dryness and acidity certainly helped, but the result still wasn't the home run I had been hoping for. You can't win them all.

A Journey to Bavaria: The Bridegroom's Cup

What is it about light, crisp libations that make them so perfect for summer. Many classics are notorious for how well they can stand up to the heat: the Pimm's Cup, the Sherry Cobbler, the Americano, or almost any aperitif on the rocks. Whether based on fortified wine or smoothed out in a long drink, these drinks offer flavor without all of the booziness of stronger cocktails. They are true session beverages, if we may borrow the lingo of brewers, like a wonderful punch. Lower in strength, they are perfect all day beverages, if only hypothetically. I know few things as thirst-quenching as a nice sangria or Rose when the temperatures soar. Even an ice cold Peroni or Asahi will do--bubbly and dry with just a hint of bitterness. The Bavarian Bridegroom's Cup easily falls into this category, as it is a sort of riff on sangria with its wine, brandy, and fruit. Even Charles Baker notes that it would be "doubly nice on a hot summer's day." Perhaps his mention of "doubly" is linked with the size of this drink; though Baker drinks tend to come in large proportions, this one is the largest calling for half a bottle of Rhine wine.

Unfortunately for me, I came upon the BB Cup, as I have taken to calling it, when the temperature outside was barely clearing 50 degrees and clouds lined the sky. I think it even rained. Cold, damp, dark was not what this drink was meant for. Alas, the downside of traveling through Jigger, Beaker, and Flask in a linear fashion is that certain drinks will be unseasonable. In the dead of August, I will probably be constructing hot punches. C'est la vie.

Bavarian Bridegroom's Cup (as interpreted)

6 ounces Dry Riesling
3/4 ounce kirschwasser
1/2 tsp granulated sugar (approximately)
2-3 hulled and quartered strawberries

Muddle strawberries with sugar and chill. Fill large chilled goblet one-third full of cracked ice. Add Riesling and kirschwasser. Stir lightly. Carefully spoon in strawberries, about 1 1/2 tablespoons total.

The aroma was full of the characteristic nutty, flavors of the kirsch. On the first taste, though, it was the tartness of the wine that was most prevalent. The cherry notes of the kirsch became more apparent near the end of each sip. While each sip was dry and refreshing, the Riesling's acidity accumulated as I progressed. This fact made the first half much more interesting than the second. As the drink warmed up, more of the woody notes came across. The kirsch went extremely well with the dry wine though, which gave me hope that this drink could be improved. The strawberries added a nice touch once they were in range; they had sunk to the bottom of the glass. I am not completely sure if Baker meant for the muddled strawberry component to be a floating garnish, but mine refused to linger on the surface. Perhaps if they had, the strawberries would have contributed more of a presence throughout. As it was, I simply spooned them out after about two-thirds of the way through the drink

I was very interested in this libation, though curious is probably a better word. It was a new experience because I had never tasted Riesling before. Picking one out wasn't all that hard, but I did choose a dry Riesling to ensure that the drink would be appropriate for a hot day. The kirsch-Riesling combination didn't seem all that weird considering that they are produced in the same part of the world. All in all, the shortcomings of the Bavarian Bridegroom's Cup were few. The wine's acidity was too strong, and the strawberries were not used to good effect. In order to tame some of the acidity, I decided to use strawberry liqueur in place of the actual fruit. I thought the increased sugar content might help soften the tannins. Also, by lengthening the drink with club soda into a sort of spritzer, I hoped to mellow out the some of the Riesling's boldness while still staying true to the original ingredients.

 Bavarian Bridegroom's Cup (adapted)

3 ounces Dry Riesling

3/4 ounce kirschwasser

3/4 ounce creme de fraise

1 1/2 ounces club soda

Stir first three ingredients with ice in a mixing glass for about 15-20 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Top with club soda and garnish with a slice of strawberry. 

The strawberry garnish mingled with the nuttiness of the kirsch combined to greet my nose. The drink was still quite tart and had that customary woody, cherry note at the end of each sip. By adding the club soda, the drink gained a pleasant effervescence that further highlighted the intersection of the Riesling and the kirsch. The creme de fraise contributed a nice berry note that was provided more of a balance to the dryness of the wine. The tannins were still present on the swallow, but they seemed more subdued. The strawberry flavors of the creme de fraise were most apparent on the after taste. I found this drink more refreshing as the new elements helped balance out the strong wine flavors and contributed to an even better summer spritzer.

Gender Roles, Brandy and Caraway

"Just why handsome women prefer sweet and creamy cocktails has always troubled us, but they do."

Charles Baker

One vaguely disconcerting, and vaguely hilarious, element of nearly all old cocktail books is the idea that there are cocktails for men--strong, boozy concoctions to put, or keep, hair on your chest--and cocktails for women--creamy, frothy libations that are typically very sweet and very absurd. Granted, there are some "ladies" cocktails that are strong,  boozy and tasty, but they are few and far between. How did these drinks become associated with women? Well, many are pink and tend to shy away from bold flavors. Who decided women don't like big flavor? When we find him we will let you know. As for color, some very tasty potables are pink, and I for one would never turn away a pink lady.

Reading about these gender stereotypes would be more palatable if we could lean back and laugh at the folly of the past. But those old-fashioned notions about gender appropriateness from the early twentieth century are still with us, though they have been under siege for decades now. Television shows, movies and the Internet flood our culture with silly ideas about what it means to be a man or a woman. It is really scary to consider just how well these ideas align with ideas about gender roles from the 1920s or even earlier. But, at least in the land of alcohol there are glimmers of hope. For example, I know far too many women who like whiskey, and not just the easy stuff, like Irish whiskey or corn-heavy bourbons like Maker's Mark. (Okay, I will admit it, you can never know too many women who like whiskey.) These women choose to stare down the cask-strength and drink it neat--hair on the chest be damned. I also know women who cringe when they hear the word whiskey. But these women still wouldn't be caught dead ordering a sweet, frothy cocktail--they drink martinis and tequila old-fashioneds and negronis. Nor would they be tempted by a cocktail simply because it has cream in it, or because it is pink. Whiskey or no, these women know how to handle themselves and they heartily embrace bold flavors. And if a bold-flavored drink just happens to be pink or have cream in it, so be it.

When Charles Baker writes that a drink is for "when ladies are present," I can't help but shake my head and offer a little sarcastic chuckle. It is easy to forgive him--the 1930s were a different time. But then again, perhaps not as different as we like to believe. Pink, sweet concoctions designed to cover up the taste of alcohol are still described with the word "girly." And I have been told, more than once, that I drink like an old man as if it were a bad thing. Perhaps the real difference is that today, for the most part, it isn't revolutionary to strip off that mantel of gender appropriateness. In Charles Baker's day, it wasn't quite so easy to treat a gender role like an accessory that matches your outfit. And maybe we should be glad that Mr. Baker includes "lighter" variations for the milder sex, whether we choose to interpret that as applying to a man or a woman. He could have just ignored women altogether, like so many others. On the other hand, we are now left with two suspicious beverages to worry about, instead of just one. So with a mild shudder, bring on the beverages!

The Balaklava Specials No. I and II explore the intersection of cognac and kummel. In No. 1, aside from a decorative sink of grenadine, there is not much more to it. The recipe for No. II  is similar except that cream and three distractingly fragrant, potent flavors have been added, all for the benefit of the fairer sex. Uh, thanks? I can understand the cream from a historic point of view. Back in the days of yore, supposedly women liked a creamy beverage. I can almost understand adding a sweetener, and please note understand not tolerate. But I am not sure how kirschwasser and absinthe, at 80 proof and 130 proof, respectively, are making this drink "girly" or even "girlier"? The mere thought is confusing and slightly frightening. Did he have to offset the fact that cream is non-alcoholic? Mr. Baker even issues this warning: "And for heaven's sweet sake don't think this snake-in-the-grass drink is a harmless and gentle lady's affair just because it has cream in it!" Ladies, hold on to your skirts.

Balaklava Special No. 1
1 jigger cognac (1 ounce brandy)
1 jigger kummel (1 ounce aquavit)
1 dash grenadine (1 barspoon)
(1/4 ounce simple syrup)

Fill a cocktail glass with crushed or shaved ice. Add brandy and "kummel" and carefully pour in grenadine so it sinks to the bottom.

Notes on Ingredients: I substituted brandy for cognac, used homemade grenadine, and since I didn't have any kummel, I sweetened Krogstad aquavit per the specifications I found on Underhill Lounge: 1 oz aquavit plus 10 ml syrup. Also note, I cut the proportions, just in case it was gross.

Caraway, anise and the undeniable smell of brandy were most apparent on the nose. Tracy, however, was sure she could smell the berry tartness of the grenadine as well. This strange drink had an extremely rich texture, and, despite that richness and an initial hint of sweetness, it was actually quite dry and surprisingly complex. The flavors of the brandy and caraway were strongest, and each sip was punctuated with anise. As we progressed, the grenadine grew in prominence. Though this drink really wasn't as bad as it initially sounded, I would never ask for it. I was actually surprised by how complimentary the flavors of the caraway and brandy were. As far as improvements go, I would try decreasing the "kummel," losing the grenadine, and adding aromatic bitters--in the guise of a caraway-flavored Japanese. Also, that crushed ice would just have to go.

Balaklava Special No. II (as close to what Baker stipulated as possible)

1 jigger kummel (1 1/2 ounces aquavit )

1/2 jigger absinthe (1/2 ounce)

1/2 jigger cognac (3/4 ounce brandy)
1/2 jigger kirschwasser (3/4 ounce)
1/2 tsp orgeat
1 1/2 tsp thick cream
(15 ml simple syrup)

Combine ingredients in a chilled shaker. Shake "briskly" and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

We actually did make this drink, though I confess--I used slightly less absinthe that the original. In my experience anything with more than 1/4 ounce of absinthe in it, will only taste like absinthe. This drink was no exception: it smelled of absinthe and tasted like absinthe. In addition to the anise madness, a hint of cherry came across in the aroma, and a hint of caraway and cherry was present in the taste. In spite of the cream and orgeat, the texture was quite dry. It was better than I thought, which isn't saying much. We still could only withstand about two sips each.

Balaklava Special No. II (as adapted)

1 1/2 ounces brandy
1/2 ounce aquavit
1/4 ounce kirschwasser
1/2 tsp orgeat
1 dash absinthe
1 1/2 tsp heavy cream
5 ml simple syrup

Dry shake ingredients to combine. Add ice and reshake. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. 

The smell of cherry was most prevalent in the aroma. Cherry and almond appeared first in the taste. Those flavors in turn blended into anise and caraway. The swallow was all brandy. This drink had a slightly creamy texture, though it still remained predominantly dry. Tracy and I agreed that the cocktail was much improved by changing the base from "kummel" to brandy and decreasing the kirschwasser and absinthe significantly. The flavors were more crisp as opposed to blanketed with absinthe. As these drinks highlight the overlapping of kummel and brandy, I chose not to severely reduce the "kummel." This was perhaps the downfall of my variation. The caraway never seemed to mesh with the others. A further reduction might have improved the cocktail, but any thread of the original would have been lost. Then again, maybe that wouldn't have been such a bad thing.

End note: of all three cocktails, Tracy and I agreed that we liked the version for when women are not present the best. I can't say I am terribly surprised.