Who Says Rum Drinks Must Be Sweet? Introducing Mr. Buddle

I like austere drinks. There I said it. I like drinks that are restrained, fine-tuned, almost delicate in their finesse. That doesn't mean that I like cocktails that are boring or plain--creativity with few ingredients is really important. Simple, elegant and yes austere. I like a cocktail that makes sense, but in a way I've never thought of before. It's like creating an outfit that looks effortless because it just hangs right. Is this hard to achieve? I hope so. I certainly have a hard enough time creating and finding this style of cocktail. But when I do finally stumble over one, oh how does it shine! Mr. Buddle is just one of those drinks--well though out, refined and indeed a beautiful intersection flavors that just make sense.

Mr. Buddle (recipe courtesy of Ricardo Hoffman, Zig Zag Cafe)

1 3/4 ounces Banks 5 rum*
3/4 ounce manzanilla sherry
1/2 ounce banana liqueur
1 dash orange bitters

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

Note on Ingredients: I used Banks 5 rum, Giffard banane du bresil, La Guita manzanilla sherry, and angostura orange bitters.

*If you do not have access to Banks 5, add a 1/4 ounce batavia arrack to a 1 1/4 ounces of flavorful light rum, such as the El Dorado 3 year.

There are a lot of things I could choose to talk about with Mr. Buddle. There is the intersection of rum and sherry, something that the bar world is still on the edge of exploring. I could write about the creative use of a new product, banana liqueur, which has recently caught fire in bars all over the country. I could write about the rum, which unlike other rums adds a bit of Batavia Arrack to the blend giving it a very unique flavor. All of these facts are interesting. But I felt attaching this drink to a larger movement would do it a disservice. So I will just say this, on an evening where there is a nice breeze in the air, a certain warmth so that a glass can't help but condense, mix yourself up one of these and experience a dry rum martini-style cocktail that would challenge the notion that all rum drinks are sweet.

Using Homemade Ingredients: Apple Cider Syrup

As with any newly made syrup, the problem instantly becomes how do I use it? Fortunately since apples are so versatile, the potential applications seem endless--apple and citrus, apple and spice, apple and savory, apple and nutty. My only concern was that apples too often share the spotlight or simply act as the backdrop; they are hardly ever the star of the show. I was worried that somehow the syrups would not be robust enough and would get lost in the cocktail glass. In practice, this turned out to be a viable issue. While both syrups are quite robust on their own--the mulled apple cider syrup is especially delicious on oatmeal--in cocktails, the apple flavor was easily overwhelmed. But with some experimentation, I did have some rather surprising successes.

I have two "go-to" recipes when I am trying to figure out how to incorporate a new syrup into a cocktail: the old fashioned and the gimlet. Both allow the syrup's flavors to shine because there are fewer ingredients involved. Of course, the way that the syrup interacts with the specific flavor profile of a gin becomes the central issue. Because gin and apples in general work well together, I decided to start there. After discovering the relative delicacy of the syrup, I opted for a more traditional London dry gin. While an absinthe rinse is not usually included in a gimlet, it does add a nice element here that works indirectly to highlight the apple flavors.  

Apple-let

2 ounces gin
1/2 ounce apple cider syrup

Express the oils of a thick lime peel into the shaker. Combine  the peel with the other ingredients and shake with ice. Strain into a chilled absinthe-rinsed cocktail glass.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Whitley Neil gin and Pacifique absinthe.

The old fashioned seemed the perfect vehicle for the mulled apple cider syrup. The syrup's combination of fruit and spice propelled me toward barrel-aged spirits. Because of the many successful drinks pairing rye and apple brandy, rye was my first choice. But then again, I don't need an excuse to make a rye old fashioned. Unfortunately, this was not the best choice, as the apple flavors were easily overwhelmed. Though the drink was lovely, it could have just as easily been made with a cinnamon or clove syrup--not the ideal situation. I then tried brandy and a mellow rum and both were quite successful. At first the spices in the syrup came across strongest, but over time hints of apple started to peek out.

Variation on a Rum Old Fashioned

2 ounces rum
2 teaspoons mulled apple cider syrup
1 dash orange bitters

Combine syrup and bitters in a rocks glass. Add a large chunk of ice and pour in the rum. Stir to combine. Garnish with an orange peel. Optional: add an absinthe rinse to the glass before building the drink. 
 Notes on Ingredients: I used Plantation 5-year rum, Fee's barrel-aged orange bitters. I rinsed the glass with Pacifique absinthe.

As I started experimenting, I quickly discovered just how delicate my syrups were. For example, aquavit's more savory anise and caraway worked really well with the mulled syrup's warm cloves and cinnamon, but the apple completely disappeared. The apple cider syrup only acted as a sweetener. So I decided to utilize more delicate flavors. Gin softened with vermouth or sherry was much more successful. And a friend of mine recently discovered that the mulled apple cider syrup added a nice touch when used in a Manhattan. Adding vermouth or dry ingredients seemed to be the key to creating a successful cocktail.

Touch of Apple

1 1/2 ounces gin
3/4 ounce manzanilla sherry
1/2 ounce apple cider syrup
1/4 ounce Calisaya liqueur 
 Combine ingredients in an ice-filled mixing glass. Stir and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Notes on Ingredients: I used No. 3 gin and Lustau dry manzanilla sherry.

The Brooklyn Cocktail: A Personal History

The Brooklyn was first mentioned in print in an obscure tome, J.A. Grohusko's Jack's Manual (1908). Though it was lost to history for over fifty years, its popularity has skyrocketed in recent years. It is yet another cocktail that has become a darling of the cocktail resurgence, embraced by craft bartenders and cocktail enthusiasts alike. But what an unlikely star. The combination of rye and dry vermouth is a hard sell for many, and even procuring a bottle of Amer Picon, or a suitable replacement, remains a challenge. Perhaps these details play a part in its popularity. Many formerly lost cocktails have resurfaced and are loved in part because of their polarizing flavors or hard to acquire ingredients. Regardless of the cultural weight of these details today, these two factors could have been what propelled such cocktails into obscurity in the first place. Despite all of this, the Brooklyn is my favorite cocktail.

I first came across the Brooklyn in the July/August 2007 issue of Imbibe magazine. The main article was centered on lost ingredients that were making a comeback in the bar world. Several do-it-yourself recipes were also included for the more ambitious. While allspice dram and creme de violette were mentioned alongside several others, it was the Amer Picon that drew me in. Looking back I am surprised that it wasn't the allspice dram that tempted my novice palate. At that point, I had never even tasted an amaro. But while the catalyst remains hidden, the Amer Replica, also known more commonly today as Amer Boudreau, was the first major cocktail ingredient I crafted at home, and with it came my introduction to the Brooklyn.

The hardest part about making homemade ingredients lies in replicating flavors that are sometimes slightly and sometimes completely out of reach. The Amer Picon used in that 1908 Brooklyn is not the same as the one available today. Sadly, the recipe was altered sometime in the 1940s and the resulting product is supposedly a shadow of its former self. Sure there are bottles of the old stuff out there--some hoarded, some just waiting to be found in the back of liquor stores in random corners of the world. But for most people, the original Amer Picon is unattainable. The current Amer Picon has not been imported into the United States for decades. In 2007, the closest substitute on the market, Torani Amer, was not available in Washington.

Of course I still remember my first Brooklyn. While I waited for the orange tincture to steep--the first step in making Amer Boudreau--I decided I needed more firsthand knowledge about this mysterious cocktail. Whenever I wanted to know more about an obscure classic cocktail, I would find myself at the Zig Zag sitting on a bar stool in front of Murray. He seemed to always know not only the recipe, but also some other tidbit of information that would propel me to uncover another drink. When I ordered a Brooklyn, he leaned in across the bar and asked me how old I was. I will admit I was surprised. But then he smiled and told me that only eighty-year-old men ordered that drink. While I am not sure how he solved the Amer Picon problem I do remember loving the resulting cocktail. And I have been drinking them ever since.

Brooklyn

2 ounces rye
3/4 ounce dry vermouth
1/4 ounce Amer Picon
1/4 ounce maraschino liqueur

In an ice-filled mixing glass, stir ingredients and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Optional: garnish with a lemon twist.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Maraska maraschino liqueur, Bulleit rye, and Vya's Whisper Dry vermouth.

Over the years, I have had many Brooklyn variations. Because of the nature of lost ingredients, it seems that everyone has a different solution to accommodate the absent Picon. (Don't even get me started on all of the recipes with different proportions!) I have seen amari blended--usually Rammazotti and Averna. Sometimes a bartender will use Amaro Ciociaro, which is widely recognized as a workable substitute. I have even had a Brooklyn with the current Amer Picon, which I returned from Paris with. And of course, I still have some of that homemade Amer Picon from all those years ago.

On a recent visit to San Francisco, I decided to order a Brooklyn at the Comstock Saloon. As soon as I tasted it, I knew that it was not the cocktail I had come to know and love. Though it did resemble most Brooklyns I had experienced, something was noticeably different. Almost immediately I knew it was the Amer component--after all, rye, dry vermouth and maraschino only differ so much among the various brands.What I didn't know was how lucky I was to have ordered that specific drink at that specific location. Finding a bar that was attempting to replicate the original Amer Picon was a wonderful surprise. With access to a bottle of the original Amer Picon, they decided that the combination of amontillado sherry, Bonal quinquina, and orange bitters best matched those long-sought after flavors. I can certainly understand the Bonal and bitters. Torani Amer, Ciociaro, and Ramazzotti (the base of Amer Boudreau) all have a strong orange flavor. It was the sherry that gave me pause. Jeff Hollinger explained to me that the savory, nuttiness of the sherry was the answer to the flavors of oxidation that they detected in the original. This was a curious detail about Amer Picon that I had never heard before. And while the resulting cocktail was tasty, the entire experience was still curious.

Brooklyn (as inspired by Comstock Saloon version)

2 ounces rye
3/4 ounce dry vermouth
1/2 ounce Amer mixture*
1/4 ounce maraschino liqueur

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

Notes on Ingredients: I used Bulleit rye, Whisper Dry vermouth and Maraska maraschino. 

Amer mixture (as inspired by Comstock Saloon version)
3 ounces Bonal
1.5 ounces dry amontillado sherry
3 dashes Angostura orange bitters

Note on Amer mixture: At the time, I failed to ask for the proportions used at Comstock and sought to replicate the flavor from memory. I hope that I was close, but I had the Brooklyn at the beginning of a long day.

Using Homemade Ingredients: Citrus Shrub

I love making homemade ingredients. All it takes is one idea--pepper syrup, rhubarb bitters, strawberry liqueur, lime cordial--and I'm off and running. And often when inspiration does hit, I end up knee-deep in four or five different projects simultaneously. Sometimes the bounty of goods at the farmer's market proves irresistible, sometimes it's just a spontaneous thought about a flavor combination. But regardless of the catalyst, as well as whether a project will take hours, days or even months to complete, the challenges always seem to spring up after the final results are in. Because homemade ingredients are often unique, finding interesting ways to use them can be the biggest obstacle. And time is not always on one's side. Bitters and liqueurs can change over extended periods. And while fortification and refrigeration can extend the life of most syrups, nothing contributes to future waste like lack of use.

Recently I ran into this problem after making two different kinds of vinegar-based citrus shrubs. Because a shrub is preserved with vinegar, it certainly has a longer shelf life than a fruit syrup. But when it comes to potential uses, this vinegar component can make success more difficult. Most fruit syrups can easily be incorporated into drinks where citrus juice or dry ingredients can balance the sweetness. More common shrubs, such as raspberry or blackberry, are challenging because of the vinegar component, but when citrus has been incorporated into the shrub, the options become even more limited. In the past, I have allowed experimental projects to languish in the back of my booze cabinet or even worse in the back of my refrigerator. But this time, I was more determined to find uses for these ingredients. 

Meyer Lemon Shrub
When starting from scratch, usually the best place to start is with something familiar. One of the first drinks I ever had that called for a shrub was a simple, elegant mixture of shrub and dry sherry. The bite of the vinegar's acetic acid pairs superbly with the almost savory dryness of sherry. Why not start there?  With the citrus element, and the inherent lightness of the sherry-shrub combination, gin seemed the natural choice for a base spirit. The bitters provided a necessary depth and contrast, but what really brought the entire cocktail together was quite surprising: salt.

Lemon Shrub Martini

1 3/4 ounces gin
1 1/4 ounces manzanilla sherry
1/2 ounce Meyer lemon shrub
1 dash Bitter Truth Creole bitters
1 pinch salt

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

Notes on Ingredients: I used Oxley gin and Lustau manzanilla sherry.

Grapefruit Shrub
Every time I started thinking about how to use the grapefruit shrub, the Hemingway daiquiri kept popping up in my mind. The combination of lime, grapefruit and rum  has always been a winner. Finding a way to balance out all of that acidity, however, would be the challenge. Well, that is besides figuring out how to deal with that pesky maraschino liqueur that is so crucial to the Hemingway. In the end, I decided to keep it simple and just omitted the maraschino altogether. Instead, I found that the more neutral simple syrup  smoothed out all of the citrus and vinegar. The more basic daiquiri recipe allowed the shrub to shine, and the resulting beverage was interesting and refreshing. Again, salt really pulled the drink together and pushed the flavors to the hilt.

Grapefruit Shrub Daiquiri

1 1/2 ounce white rum
3/4 ounce lime juice
1/2 ounce grapefruit shrub
1/2 ounce simple syrup
1 pinch salt

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

Notes on Ingredients: I used Cruzan white rum and a homemade 1:1 simple syrup.

The Mistake--Or, Two Shrubs in One Glass
Considering that even finding a recipe for a vinegar-based citrus shrub proved nearly impossible, I was skeptical of using the Internet--where I usually begin all my searches--to locate an appropriate cocktail recipe. For the most part my assumptions were correct, though I did find one. Earlier this year in Aspen, Colorado, a certain Nathan Harnish from Pacifica Restaurant and Oyster Bar won the Aspen, Colorado, Iron Bartender competition with a drink that included both lemon shrub and grapefruit shrub. Or at least that is what i thought. How providential it seemed at the time! Taking in the recipe as a whole, though, I was even further astounded. It was the strangest assortment of flavors I had ever seen. Of course I had to try it.

Spice Trader Punch (as reported by eatApsen.com localFeast and then further adapted)

2 ounces Batavia arrack
3/4 ounce Grand Marnier
3/4 ounce cognac
3/4 ounce meyer lemon shrub
3/4  ounce grapefruit shrub

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

Notes on Ingredients: I used Pierre Ferrand 1840 cognac and Batava Arrack von Oosten.

Of course upon further research, I discovered that this was not the recipe that won the contest. The real recipe is an actual punch, complete with juice and tea. And though Harnish's original recipe does include a grapefruit element and a lemon shrub, he calls for grapefruit juice and a non-vinegar based lemon shrub. The website I initially stumbled onto was just offering a sneak peak of the contest entries, so this mistake is of little consequence in the grand scheme. But that mistaken recipe resulted in a drink that was not only delicious but also multilayered, interesting and exceptionally balanced. Go figure. Sometimes using homemade ingredients can lead you to unexpected experiences.

Untraditional Bitters Part Two: Smoky Vesper and Dunbar

Choosing between the different flavor profiles of bitters wasn't the only option available for early bartenders seeking to differentiate their own creations. The evolution of the Cocktail into the wide array of drink families and styles of today began with the addition of all sorts of untraditional ingredients that were used like bitters--in mere dashes. The Fancy Cocktail was one of the earliest, incorporated as it was into the first edition of Jerry Thomas's cocktail tome. It was simply an Old Fashioned served up with a dash of orange liqueur and a lemon twist. Then, as absinthe and other liqueurs became popular and easier to come by, the Improved Cocktail was created--an Old Fashioned served up with a dash of absinthe and maraschino liqueur. But for the most part, these drinks were all made in the same way--shaken or stirred with ice--with the newest ingredient just added to the mix. As far as availble techniques, bartenders did not have a vast amount of options. Sure, muddling happened, as well as layering. And there was the always popular pouring flaming hot liquid from two tankards method. But perhaps the most interesting innovation in technique was introduced in New Orleans with the adaptation of the Sazerac: the rinse.

You see, it's all about the rinse. Now, this technique didn't change the way drinks were made at the time, and it certainly have a resounding impact on the ways drinks were constructed over the years. The rinse was still used here and there--sometimes to good effect and sometimes to none at all. Steadily, it plodded along with the Cocktail, though it wasn't until much later that it would garner  attention as one of the important tools in the bartender's bag of tricks. But back in the beginning, the absinthe rinse was even not part of the original Sazerac. This was only added later, most likely when the popularity of absinthe began to soar in the late nineteenth century. The small amount is easily understood--even a quarter ounce of absinthe can overpower many ingredients. But why use a rinse? Why not just add the absinthe, as a dash, to the chilled mixture? Perhaps the easiest hypothesis is that the absinthe was an add-on--some bit of flair to finish things off. But just maybe those bartenders were using a rinse to incorporate the powerful anise aroma as an additional garnish. Unfortunately, the intentions of the nineteenth century bartender will always be a mystery.

Temperature plays a most important factor in the succesful use of a rinse. The ingredients in the mixing glass, for example the bitters, syrup and rye of the Sazerac, will be thoroughly chilled. If you pre-chill your glass, the absinthe rinse will only be partially chilled, otherwise it will be room temperature.  This absinthe will have a stronger aroma than the bitters-syrup-rye mixture. Along with chilling and diluting, the ice also constricts aroma. By combining a chilled mixture with a warmer rinse, the aroma of the rinse will be more pronounced on that intial sip, and perhaps even subsequent sips. If you use a glass that is slightly larger than the volume of the cocktail, the rinse will have an even more profound effect. The extra space, layered with the more aromatic rinse, makes it less likely that the rinse will be incorporated into the cocktail, meaning that the intense aroma will be stronger for longer. After a few sips, however, the two elements will mingle and the drink's flavors will approach equilibrium.

For years I took this small detail for granted with the Sazerac. I just always assumed it was a way to incorporate a strongly flavored ingredient without allowing it to take over the cocktail. I never really thought about the fact that just by adding a dash to the mixing glass would accomplish this all on its own. It was only recently that I began thinking about the mechanics of the rinse and how it is an integral part of using strongly flavored ingredients as bitters. The rinse has become one of the most popular ways of incorporating such untraditional bitters. It just makes sense that ingredients that have whopping flavors also have strong aromas. Whether a bartender is adding smoke, as in the Dunbar (Laphroaig rinse), herbaceousness as in the Man with No Name (green chartreuse rinse), bitter orange in New Orleans Is Drowning (from 2008, Campari rinse), dry almond-cherry notes in the Cuzco (kirsh rinse), or fruitiness in the entire class of Bell-Ringers (apricot brandy rinses), these cocktails were counting on a particular aroma to finish the cocktail, sort of like twisting a citrus peel over a finished cocktail. Not all of these drinks are new, but it seemed that as soon as I was actively looking for rinsed cocktails, everywhere I looked a glass was being drizzled with something.

Dunbar (recipe from cocktailvirgin.blogspot.com, created by California Gold of Drink in Boston)

1 3/4 oz scotch
1 oz amontillado sherry
1/4 oz Benedictine
1 dash aromatic bitters
1 dash orange bitters

Stir with ice and strain into a glass pre-rinsed with Laphroaig Scotch. Twist an orange peel over the top.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Famous Grouse, Lustau amontillado sherry, and Angostura orange and aromatic bitters. Instead of Laphroaig, I used Arbeg.   

Of all of the rinsed cocktails that I have tried though, the most successful in my mind is probably the simplest: the Smoky Vesper. It is exactly what it sounds like, a Vesper with a rinse of Islay scotch. Specificity isn't needed, though each scotch will bring its own qualities to the fore. When you dip your nose into the glass, the smell of the peat smoke mingles with the brightness of the lemon oils glistening on the surface. Of course the gin is there as well, and all of the herbal notes together create a kind of symphony. It isn't magical--it tastes like scotch added to a Vesper. But it is the interaction that, at least for me, pushes the boundaries and elevates the experience.

Smoky Vesper

1 1/2 ounces gin
1/2 ounce vodka
1/4 ounce Lillet

Stir ingredients in an ice-filled mixing glass. Strain into a scotch-rinsed cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Martin Miller gin, Chopin vodka, Ardbeg, and Cocchi Americano in the place of Lillet.

Tequila, Sherry, and Origin Stories

The world of cocktails is full of origin stories. The older and more well known a drink is, the more fascination surrounds its beginnings. Unfortunately, the details surrounding a beverage's journey from inspired idea to regional or even national prominence are usually hidden in the folds of inebriation. In the absence of fact, speculation abounds. Did the Martini originate in Martinez, California? Was the Manhattan created at the Manhattan Club in New York City for a banquet hosted by Winston Churchill's mother? Tall tales and outright mistruths are more common than actual facts. Usually nothing can illuminate the mysteries of a cocktail's birth. Luckily, those life-altering moments when you are wobbling on the cusp of change tend to stand out and are that much easier to recall, even if an event's importance is only acknowledged in retrospect. As time passes, those memories become embedded into our identity, like squares of fabric into a quilt--prominently displayed and openly cherished. I thought it was high time to share my own origin story, or at least as it pertains to classic cocktails.

Tracy and I were living in a one-story fourplex on a dead-end street in Portland, OR. As a freelance editor, I spent a lot of time in that house. At that time, cocktails were barely on my radar. While I did enjoy the occasional Manhattan or dram of bourbon, beer was my beverage of choice. But I had always been interested in mixing drinks, and when the occasion arose, I usually wielded the shaker. So when my twenty-seventh birthday rolled around, I was sort of a blank slate just waiting for the right decoration. Anything could have happened. In retrospect, it seems obvious that the next big thing was just around the corner, though I never would have guessed it. But while I was busy tearing wrapping paper, many spheres of influence were converging.

Awaiting its turn alongside a new set of bar tools, consequently, was the Art of the Bar. It's funny, but not entirely surprising, that it all started with a book. Little did I know that this particular cocktail book would not only drastically alter my drinking habits, but also the entire landscape of my life. To this day I remember flipping through its glossy pages lined with beautiful cocktails, both new and old. Now it was probably the stylistic design  that spoke loudest to me, all of those gorgeous garnishes dangling off the edges of beautiful stemware. I have always had an eye for great stems. But the effect of that book were instantaneous. I told Tracy right then and there that I was going to make each and every one of them. Though the years have passed and I still love looking through its pages, I never did make it to every cocktail. As my interest in cocktails grew, both newly released cocktail books and vintage bar books stole my attentions. Though I hate to admit it, more often than not, it sits on a book shelf waiting for me to get the urge to flip through its pages again.

Recently, while searching for cocktails with both sherry and tequila, the Internet led me to the Choke Artist. Though the name sounded vaguely familiar, my interest was piqued as the drink brought Cynar into the mix with the tequila and sherry that held my interest. I quickly discovered where I had run into this libation before: the Choke Artist is the creation of Jeffrey Hollinger and Rob Schwartz and is included in the Art of the Bar. It was one of the ones that had I had missed all those years ago. But then again, it wouldn't have even been on my radar back then. I hadn't yet acquired a taste for tequila and it would still have been a couple of years before I truly discovered sherry. I am sure I didn't even know what Cynar was. All that has changed of course. This drink is definitely one to try.

Choke Artist (as adapted)

1 1/2 ounces anejo tequila
1 ounce Cynar
3/4 ounce manzanilla sherry
2 dashes Regan's orange bitters

Stir ingredients in an ice-filled mixing glass. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Don Julio anejo tequila, and Barbadillo manzanilla sherry.

Tequila and Sherry Together Again: La Perla

Old drinks can be a lot of fun. Retracing a drink's history means uncovering obscure details about more than just ingredients and techniques from the past. Understanding the way that cocktails, and alcohol in general, impacted not only American culture and social practices but those worldwide situates current trends within  a larger historical context. Regardless of whether a cocktail has stood the test of time, each mixture of disparate ingredients has a story, true or not, and a place in history, large or small. Unearthing these fragments of information can influence the way that a contemporary drinker thinks about what's in his or her glass, as well as the circuitous route various ingredients have taken to get there.

The flip side is that all of this research can be terribly exhausting. For example, over the past few months I have been delving into the history of the Corpse Reviver No 2. Trying to juggle all of the minute details can make writing a simple blog post an hours' long endeavour. Usually for each answer--or more realistically, each hypothesis--that is actually discoverable, some level of interpretation is required that inevitably just leads to more questions. Fascinating, yes. Time-consuming, equally yes. And while I love delving into all of the details about locations and personalities, contemporary cocktails serve as well-needed change of pace.

Most recognizable classics achieved their status because someone decided that a recipe was worthy of being physically collected in a cocktail recipe book--sometimes many people agreed over and over. Many modern recipes will never make it into print, regardless of their worth. It is simply the nature of the contemporary. No one can guess what will become classic in say fifteen years. Current and classic are always mutually exclusive. Thus, modern drinks don't carry the weight of history. It is quite a blessing. It would be impossible for a cocktail created in the last ten years to have 100 years of history. And because of this, managing the specific details becomes a lot easier. Sometimes even tracking down an actual recipe can be the biggest challenge. Sure there can be frustrating moments, as certain details will be unavailable, but that could also be said for an obscure classic.

While most of my research has revolved around the Corpse Reviver, I have been quite obsessed with drinking cocktails that include both tequila and sherry. These cocktails are all quite new. Tequila-based cocktails were not widely collected in early cocktail books, aside from the UKBG's Cafe Royal Cocktail Book. Tequila did not gain widespread popularity until the margarita became fashionable with the  Hollywood set in the late 1940s. This is another reason why modern cocktails are so interesting: by using ingredients that were either not readily available or had not even been invented yet, current bartenders can explore new and different flavor combinations. And this is the best reason of all to engage with current cocktails: they harness the creativity of an age and are constantly push the boundaries of taste.

La Perla

1 1/2 ounces reposado tequila

1 1/2 ounces manzanilla sherry

3/4 ounce pear liqueur

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

Notes on Ingredients: I used Milagro reposado tequila, Pur Spirits pear liqueur, and Barbadillo sherry.

One of the first published cocktails to utilize both tequila and sherry and gain notoriety is the La Perla, created by Jacques Bezuidenhout, who won the National Sherries of Spain cocktail contest with it in 2005. The interaction between the smoky, lightly aged reposado and the nutty dry flavors of the manzanilla is highlighted in this austere three-ingredient cocktail. The inclusion of the pear liqueur surprised me, but I found the taste quite lovely. The most pivotal ingredient, however, was the lemon twist. The essential oils add a great amount of depth to the cocktail and fuse together the sweetness of the pear liqueur with the more savory tequila-sherry combination.

Though this cocktail was originally intended as a tequila aperitif, the pear liqueur's sweetness became more apparent as the drink warmed up. While this is by no means a shortcoming, I would not place this cocktail in the same category as a Martini or a Negroni, the more famous of the aperitif cocktails. Instead, this cocktail would work well in any situation that a would call for a Manhattan or other spirit-forward cocktail that has a touch of sweetness.

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.