Taming Kummel: Angel's Tears and Army of Shadows

For years Kummel represented one of the larger gaps in my knowledge. On that day when I finally tasted it, I knew that I needed to learn more, but finding one proved difficult. Kummel in general is rare, and those that were available weren't all that impressive. Even here in Seattle, where the Kummel classics the Allies Cocktail and the Epicurean are pretty popular didn't help to solve this problem. Privatization helped the bars gain access to obscure products, while the consumer continues to struggle.

A strange ingredient, Kummel is simultaneously savory and sweet and usually features such complex flavors as anise and caraway. Not all kummels are the same, however. Gilka is more understated and caraway dominant, while the Combier kummel is bursting with cumin. Yes, I said cumin. But it is that cumin that makes it strange and challenging. Caraway and anise are not all that uncommon in the spirit world: Brennivin and all manner of aquavits contain some manner of both. But cumin is another story altogether.

The question quickly changed from where can I get it to how do I use it? Once I bought some, it just sat in my bar cabinet waiting to be opened. The months passed and nothing happened. But I have never let a bottle of booze get the best of me, so I started asking around. And I discovered there is nothing to fear. In some ways, it is best to think of it as yet another savory strongly flavored element that should be used with care, but used nonetheless.

Sweet Vermouth/Quinquina
It seems that sweet vermouth and other quinquinas are a good solution for the problems stronger flavors create. From celery bitters to absinthe, sweet vermouth and its cousins have continued to surprise me with their ability to tame the beasty ingredients. Here is just one example I came across:

Angel's Tears (recipe by Connor O'Brien)

2 ounces rum
1/2 ounce Byrrh
1 tsp Kummel
1 dash Angostura bitters

Stir ingredients with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Note on Ingrediets: Connor's recipe calls for Byrrh and El Dorado 15. I was out of Byrrh so I substituted Punt e Mes. I also used Combier Kummel.

Citrus
Ctirus has always been a perfect vehicle for strong flavors. With just one look at the daquiri, it becomes apparent. Add a dash of celery bitters--refreshing and delicious. Add a dash of absinthe, a delightful variation. Even a dash of savory kummel works just fine. Lime juice has the incredible power to mitigate other strong elements and even more than one at a time. Maybe it's because lime is just so tough to begin with. Ben Perri's Army of Shadows definitely shows how citrus can harness the more extreme side of Kummel and allow it to play nice with others.

Army of Shadows (recipe by Ben Perri)

1 1/2 ounces aquavit
1/2 ounce lime juice
1/2 ounce Kummel
1/4 ounce orgeat
1/4 ounce Islay scotch

Shake ingredients with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Note on Ingredients: I used Arbeg scotch, Small Hands Food orgeat, Linie aquavit and Krogstad aquavit, and Combier Kummel.

Bitter from the Start: Rediscovering the Japanese Cocktail

Ever since I stumbled on heavily bittered cocktails, I have been hooked. I do very much love bitters. Not only am I known for ordering my soda and bitters with extra bitters, but also for sending said drink back  because it's not opaque enough. Orange juice, lemonades and even soups and fruit compotes are not safe. I  have coerced strangers into accenting their 7 and 7s with a dash or two of Angostura--much to their delight I might add. For me, this almost obsession with bitters all started with the Alabazam. When I first read about it on Jamie Boudreau's blog a few years ago, I was instantly intrigued. And while that cocktail's teaspoon of Angostura bitters pales in comparison to such heavily bittered drinks as the Trinidad Sour and the Stormy Mai Tai, with their whopping ounce and ounce-and-a-half pours of Angostura, respectively, it certainly was the drink that set the stage. Leo Engel first published the recipe for the Alabazam in a time when cocktails called for at most three to four dashes of bitters. Imagine my surprise when I tripped over a cocktail that predates the Alabazam and includes a still impressive half teaspoon of bitters.

It's not what you think. This isn't some often overlooked cocktail that I discovered in the pages of an obscure tome. Not at all. The Japanese cocktail is pretty well known, even if the most recognizable contemporary recipes drastically revise the amount of bitters. First published in Jerry Thomas's Bartender's Guide in 1865, the Japanese cocktail heavily resembles the old-fashioned, comprising a healthy slug of brandy, a sweetener, bitters and lemon peel. It has also been one of my go-to cocktails. The recipe is practically etched in my brain and has been for years--or so I thought. What I never recognized was that the Japanese I knew and loved started out as perhaps the heavily bittered cocktail of its day.

Japanese Cocktail (Jerry Thomas 1865)

1 table-spoonful of orgeat syrup
1/2 tea-spoonful of [Boker's]* bitters
1 wine-glass of brandy [2 ounces]
1 or 2 pieces of lemon peel

Fill the tumbler one third with ice, and stir well with a spoon. [Strain into a chilled cocktail glass or old-fashioned glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.]

Notes on Ingredients: I used Pierre Ferrand 1840 cognac and B.J. Reynolds orgeat.

* Original recipe carries a typo, Bogart's for Boker's.

While it is hard to know exactly what happened in the intervening years, by the 1887 edition of Jerry Thomas's guide the recipe had already been altered, severely decreasing the amount of bitters. By 1916, the recipe no longer called specifically for Boker's bitters as it had fallen out of production some time in the latter part of the nineteenth century. Certainly, it would be difficult to fashion an 1862 Japanese cocktail without Boker's. Angostura became the natural second choice. However, as Angostura and Boker's bitters are  both considered aromatic style bitters, they are certainly not the same animal. Boker's bitters is less concentrated than Angostura as well as more mellow. Thus, a smaller amount of Angostura can balance out the orgeat. In the years when Boker's was unavailable this all made perfect sense. But what happened between 1862 and 1887 to warrant the change? While this may remain a mystery, perhaps it is time to reconsider the original recipe.

Last year I became enamored with the idea of increasing the amount of bitters in classic cocktail recipes. I had recently acquired several new bottles of digestive bitters and I was keen to play. Considering that the contemporary recipe for the Japanese cocktail calls for such a scant amount of bitters, it just seemed like the perfect candidate. How interesting to find out that after all this time the Japanese was initially envisioned to withstand more bitters. While the extra Boker's bitters does create a more intense experience, the resulting cocktail still tastes very much like a Japanese cocktail, albeit less sweet. Sometimes,history is full of pleasant surprises.

Bittering Up the Classics: The Japanese Cocktail

The Japanese cocktail was one of the first cocktails ever made. One of a handful of cocktail recipes published in Jerry Thomas's seminal cocktail guide, The Bar-Tender's Guide (1862), the Japanese is a wonderful drink that too often gets forgotten. Sure, most cocktail bloggers know it, as well as craft bartenders, but how often do you see someone actually order one. Perhaps the sole reason for this is that the Japanese cocktail is a bit sweeter than many contemporary cocktails. Notoriously in the nineteenth century, drinkers had more of a sweet tooth than drinkers today. And considering how much attention bitter cocktails receive these days, it seems that the Japanese will remain more commonly spoken about than drank.

I find the Japanese cocktail very enjoyable. The combination of the mellow brandy and the nutty, rich orgeat is tremendously extravagant. The bitters here are crucial. Historically the Japanese calls for Boker's, but this is one situation where the presence of aromatic bitters far outweighs the brand choice. It aptly combines sweetness in a inoffensive way, especially in light of its strength--two ounces of brandy is nothing to shake a stick at. After all, it is an early variation of the Old-Fashioned. But no matter how much lipservice I dare give it, the truth is that the Japanese cocktail doesn't get made very much at my house.  

 Japanese Cocktail

2 ounces brandy
1/2 ounce orgeat
2 dashes Boker's Bitters

Combine ingredients in an ice-filled mixing glass. Stir and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

In spite of its sweetness, something about the Japanese cocktail calls to me. Perhaps I am a sucker for an ancient cocktail, or the fact that it is boozy without seeming boozy. Or maybe it's just that it is so damn velvety smooth. I have the same problem with the Bobby Burns--historically a Scotch Manhattan with a bit of Benedictine in the place of bitters. Every year as Bobby Burns's birthday rolls around I assemble one, enjoy it thoroughly, and then promptly forget it exists. Regardless of how I savor it at the time, I do not crave it. Thus, I never drink them. The Japanese and I have a similar relationship. I love the flavor combination, but almost every time I think of making one, I hesitate. Mood is everything and sometimes all that richness is a turn off. 

Then one day late in December, an idea popped in my head--why not make a loose variation to highlight what I love about the Japanese cocktail and downplay the sweetness? So, with a cabinet full of amari, I decided to use bitterness to allay the sweetness. But one amaro after another yielded less than spectacular results. Fernet was too bracing, averna too delicate, and the amer picon was too unbalanced and frankly brought too much orange. But when I tried the Santa Maria with a scant bit of rye, it all came together. As I learned from my adventures with aquavit, sometimes investing in the foundation helps bring a new drink together.

Bitter Japanese Cocktail

1 1/2 ounces brandy
1/2 ounce rye
1/2 Santa Maria Amaro
1/4 ounce orgeat
2 dashes Spanish bitters

Combine ingredients in an ice-filled mixing glass. Stir and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with orange oils, but not a twist.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Sazerac 6-year rye, Paul Masson VSOP brandy, and B.J. Reynolds orgeat.

Experimenting with Flavor: Sherry and Tequila

The coupling of sherry and tequila were officially outed in February of this year for all the world to see. But the genius of their combination hasn't really been that much of a secret. For the past several years, cocktails have been popping up all over the country that highlight this inspired pairing. It is the careful balance of sherry's savory nuttiness and the smoky, herbaceous tequila that creates such a solid foundation for so many interesting and incredibly tasty drinks. And these drinks cross every cocktail boundary. Tequila and sherry work well in spirit-forward libations or even those including citrus, like the Ce Acatl below. Even more complicated flavors, such as those of amari and fruit liqueurs, can shine in the presence of tequila and sherry. Nothing is really off limits. With three different types of tequila (blanco, reposado, anejo)--not to mention three types of mescal (blanco, reposado, and anejo) and three types of sotol (you get the idea)--and with six different styles of sherry (fino, manzanilla, amontillado, palo cortado, oloroso, and Pedro Ximenez), the options seem virtually endless even before you start adding other flavors.

I hate to admit that until recently I hadn't had much experience with cocktails that call for both sherry and tequila. Sherry is one of my favorite things to mix with--I just love a Sherry Cobbler. And tequila and mescal regularly tempt me to try drinks that are normally out of my comfort zone. I guess I just had trouble taking the necessary plunge to get tequila and sherry in the same glass. I can't believe I waited so long! My friend Adam, the creator of the Ce Acatl, helped me see the error of my ways. Now I understand just how wondrous those two elements are when used together.

Ce Acatl (created by Adam Mullinax)

2 ounces tequila
1/2 ounce amontillado sherry
1/2 ounce orgeat
1/4 ounce lime juice
1 dash Boker's bitters
1 dash mole bitters

Shake ingredients with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lime twist.

Note on Ingredients: I used Don Julio anejo tequila, Trader Tiki orgeat, and Lustau Amontillado Sherry. The first time I made it, I was out of amontillado and substituted the drier manzanilla (thus, the picture). The result was also a bit drier but no less pleasing.

What makes this cocktail great, in addition to the way it showcases the tequila and sherry, is the richness that the orgeat brings to the mix. Adam told me that he was loosely inspired by the Japanese Cocktail, and it is the orgeat that provides the link. The tequila and sherry used in place of the Japanese's brandy really do lighten the flavors and push them in totally different direction with a totally different feel. But it is the lime's brightness that really brings the drink together for me. This cocktail is bright and flavorful, smoky, nutty and wonderfully complex. The Ce Acatl will definitely be a regular in my summer rotation.

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.

Ode to Bitters: Stormy Mai-Tai

I have emptied three bottles of Angostura bitters during this summer alone! We once had a bottle of Angostura last us a couple of years when we lived in NYC. Now that we drink so many classic cocktails, we definitely go through Angostura faster, but it can still take a year to get through a bottle. Partially that is due to the sheer number of bitters that we own—so many options. On Saturday night, as I was collecting ingredients, I noticed that my bitters bottle was only half full. So, off I went on an impromptu jaunt to the local market for bitters. Tracy didn't even think a little market would have them. But there they were next to the Rose's Lime and bottled margarita mix.I think I am the only person who brings a photo ID to buy bitters. But since Angostura has a higher proof than most vodkas, you never know. Of course most people don't realize this.  Alas, the cashier didn't either and I didn't get carded.

Stormy Mai-Tai

1 1/2 ounce Angostura bitters

3/4 ounce orgeat syrup

1/4 ounce curacao

1 ounce lime juice

Preshake. Pour in to a double rocks glass and top with crushed ice. Swizzle lightly. Float light rum. Garnish with a mint sprig.

Notes on Ingredients: Plan ahead: if you are making two drinks you will use 3/4 of a bottle of Angostura. I used a 1/2-ounce float of Cruzan white rum. As we had no mint, I skipped it. Also I  substituted triple sec for the curacao.

Of all the ingredients, the rum is the most readily detectable when nosing this embittered tipple. This makes sense since it was right under my nose, being a float after all. It makes a very subtle clear rim that contrasts with the bright rusty redness underneath, though you can't tell in the picture. The smell of bitters was also apparent. But then again, I would be surprised if they weren't detectable. When sipping I first tasted the light rum, the nice lightness before falling through the citrus into the depths of cinnamon, allspice, cloves. Each sip began with the brightness of citrus coupled with a hint of almond. The end was equally the same: the complex, spicy bitters, with their unique dryness, though here for the first time, a sort of sharpness that wasn't at all unpleasant. The complexity definitely meant that this was a drink to be sipped. Weighing in at around 89 proof, the Angostura worked well as a base spirit over crushed ice. The higher proof means that Angostura can stand up to the dilution better than a lower proof spirit would. And true to form, this drink retained its strong flavor and depth even as the night wore on and the ice melted. (I am sure that the extreme flavor of the bitters contributed to this as much as the proof.) All in all this drink was very refreshing and complex with a lot of substance in each sip. It completely highlights what a heavily bittered cocktail is all about.

Now that we are at the end of our tribute to bitters, we must have a recap. What have we learned, besides the fact that heavily bittered cocktails are yummy? One thing we noticed was that heavily bittered cocktails have a unique texture. They are smoother and thicker than most cocktails but in a totally new way. Egg whites or jam when added to a cocktail also create a smooth, thick texture, but the mouth feel of a heavily bittered cocktail is quite different. These cocktails are not velvety smooth, and luscious, but instead they start off smooth and thick, and then, because of the bitters, they immediately become dry and astringent, like when you drink a wine that has a lot of tannins. These cocktails are very complex and the flavors are layered. By using such a hefty amount in an environment tempered with water, citrus, and a sweetener, the full taste of the bitters can really be appreciated. We also noted that all of these cocktails were quite foamy, as if half of an egg white had been added. Conclusions aside, what fun we have had pushing our expectations and boundaries and tasting something new and different. For me, at least, that is part of the joy of drinking cocktails.

Ode to Bitters: Trinidad Sour

Continuing our poem to heavily bittered drinks, I could not pass up the chance to try the Trinidad Sour. To date it is the most heavily bittered drink I have ever tried (though there may be one to surpass it in the immediate future). I first came up on this creation when Paul Clarke blogged about it last summer during his mad dash to post 30 times in 30 days. The drink initially caught his notice because of the whopping full ounce of Angostura bitters. I have to admit that it made me do a double take as well.  The drink is the original creation of Giuseppe Gonzalez of Painkiller in NYC.

Trinidad Sour

1 ounce Angostura Bitters

1 ounce orgeat syrup

3/4 ounce lemon juice

1/2 ounce Rittenhouse rye

Shake ingredients in an ice-filled shaker. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Notes on ingredients/method: The orgeat syrup that I used was not homemade, but a Monin product. The rule of the house is no making new syrups until the old ones are used up because of space constraints. Well, unless they are totally gross--we do have standards.

Like the Alabazam, the high amount of bitters are apparent in the drink's color, opacity, and pink foam. The reddish hue, however, is much darker. Cinnamon, allspice, and cloves dominate the aroma. And it tastes exactly as it smells, a glorious combination of spices, like liquid Christmas. The lemon flavor is more apparent mid-sip with the almond syrup's sweetness providing the appropriate balance. The finish is dry and full of the more astringent aspects of the Angostura. Complex and balanced, this drink is a really interesting take on what a sour is. The almond flavors make an especially nice touch. And despite the ridiculous amount of bitters, the refreshing qualities make is one excellent summer cocktail.