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.

White Dog vs. Vodka Part One: Introduction

For many years the only ways to taste unaged whiskey were either on a distillery tour or when passed an unlabeled mason jar that you were quickly supposed to forget ever existed. With more and more unaged whiskeys hitting Washington State liquor stores, which are infamous for having severely limited offerings, it is easy to see how things have changed, and how quickly. Over the past five years, the craft distillery movement has created a place for white whiskey as a viable option for new distillers desperate to get out of the red. No longer considered a stepping stone in the whiskey production process, unaged whiskey can now be used as a barometer to gauge skills of a whiskey maker that had been previously been overlooked. In fact, the popularity of small-batch distilling has sparked widespread interest in the entire whiskey-making process from grist mill to bottled product. Perhaps it is the continued strength of the craft beer movement across the country that is responsible for this attention, or the slow food/local food movements, or even the craft cocktail movement. No one can be sure. What is certain is that from the explosion of new products that showcase the talent, creativity and regionality of micro distillers, white dog has emerged and surely has been having its moment in the sun.

As with any new product, the inevitable question becomes: What can you do with it? After reading countless articles, my curiosity was piqued, and I sought out this new unaged spirit. Tastings ensued, limited as they were at the time. Shortly thereafter, every time I looked at my liquor cabinet, something seemed missing, underrepresented. Of course, I had to buy a bottle. After wading in and tasting it both neat and on the rocks, I realized I still had nearly a full bottle. I am sorry to admit that here was no eureka! moment. There is no doubt that white whiskey offers insights on the distillation process. But I, like many others, would still rather drink barrel-aged whiskey. Drinking white dog allows me to really see a distiller's vision from the grain choice to the skilled cuts, to the careful manipulation of the fermentation. But should I really call it "drinking" when I don't drink it. "Tasting" white dog makes me a better taster. I always learn something, about it or me. But I will never crave it like I do a dram of rye.

So moving back on topic, there I am with my nearly full bottle. After covering the easiest of bases, I want to know what else it can do? Lucky for me, bartenders have risen to the occasion. With a bevy of new flavors to work with, how could they not? The Internet is flush with recipes calling for white whiskey, and creativity abounds. But alas, as many have discovered, white dog is not the easiest spirit to mix with. Sure, it has been used like a more flavorful vodka in many lighter, sour-based drinks. But sometimes white whiskey's stronger grain-heavy flavor profile can clash with the other elements, or at least push the combination into imbalance. And of course unaged whiskey can be used in place of aged whiskey in cocktails. However, in most cases, the delicate flavors of the white whiskey are completely overwhelmed, and again balance is sacrificed. In the most successful recipes, the cocktail highlights and accents the complex, delicate flavors of the whiskey. But it seems that often white whiskey is called on to do vodka's traditional job just not as well: either half-taming/half-accenting bold, strong flavors or acting as a semi-blank high-proof canvas.

But as I was thinking about all that, I started thinking. (Scary thing, for sure.) Certain vodkas are a lot closer to unaged whiskey than most people would guess. Sure, vodka can be made of anything that can be fermented: sugarcane, beets, potatoes, rye, wheat, barley, apples, etc. But a rye vodka could be produced in almost the exact same way as an unaged rye whiskey. Almost. In such cases, the production method is what characterizes the distinction between the two spirits. Most whiskey is distilled to under 160 proof by law in America, regardless of whether it will be subsequently aged. Vodka, by law, is distilled to over 190 proof. That difference means everything and what it boils down to is flavor.

Distillation is a process of purification and separation. The higher the alcohol level, the more pure the ethanol. What that really means is less flavor. In distilling, lower proof equates to more impurities, and those impurities create flavors--those lovely wonderful flavors. Of course, this is a very general overview of the process. There are others ways of retaining flavor. In vodka production achieving 190 proof on the first run isn't important. Subsequent runs will continually strip out more flavors, which suits many vodka distillers and vodka drinkers just fine. When a distiller can achieve 190 proof in the first run, more flavor will be preserved. As crazy as it may sound, some vodka distillers actually want to retain the flavor of the raw materials. Those are the vodkas I actually enjoy drinking. But that is beside the point.

To sum up, proof matters a lot in distillation and it is intricately tied to flavor. Regardless of actual flavor, both vodka and white whiskey are both more delicately flavored--meaning on the whole they both tend to be overwhelmed by bigger flavors. Some vodkas have a lot of flavor (I know you don't believe it). Some white whiskeys have more delicate nuanced flavors than others. It is not easy to compare white whiskey and vodka. I am not really going to try. I am just curious by nature. So, I thought it would be interesting to see what happens when you take a cocktail recipe that successfully uses white dog and you substitute a full-flavored grain-based vodka (for relativity). Who knows what will happen.

A Vodka Experiment

I'm not usually interested in creating original drinks and will happily imbibe others' creations, whether they are old or new. But the truth is, vodka and I have hit a wall. I had every intention of giving the endeavor a fair shot. But after hours spent clicking my mouse down to the circuits, with the dry, bleary eyes of a video-game addict, I just can't take it anymore. I have searched the books in vain; the experts have no suitable answers, and I am tired . . . and thirsty. So, in the name of self-interest, I have decided to get up off the bar stool and brandish my own mixing glass. Just one pivotal question remains: How can I work vodka into a drink that is essentially brown, bitter and stirred?

Why lie? It has been the holy grail all along: a proper modestly dry, bitter cocktail that can really do what all the enthusiasts claim vodka can do. To boil it down, I want to fit vodka into my flavor sweet spot. All of my favorite libations are primarily dry, herbal, bitter and quite strong. Why should I expect anything less from vodka? Because it isn't usually used that way is not a good enough excuse. Because only a few people have dared to tackle this issue is not going to cut it. But why are there so few options, you ask, dear reader? Most people who drink cocktails that are primarily dry, bitter, herbal and quite strong are not only not interested in vodka, they absolutely abhor it. It's true, check the blogs. So, without a clear audience, the pattern of available recipes moves in a never ending cycle. Few drinks are made with vodka that are really interesting and challenging. Thus, nobody thinks a vodka-based cocktail is capable of being interesting and challenging. So, in turn, few drinks are made that are really interesting and challenging, ad nauseum. Someone has to begin.

Every cocktail enthusiast trying to salvage a place for vodka on the bar--albeit a very small place--repeats the same mantra: vodka is a blank slate that allows other bolder flavors to shine. It adds proof without getting in the way of whatever else is going on in the glass. These are not novel, bold ideas; vodka has been added to fruit juices for exactly the same reason for years. Herbal liqueurs have also been used to excellent effect in drinks like the Drink Without a Name (aka the Harrington) and the Gypsy. Vodka is performing the same way in all of these drinks. So why not use its famous attribute to create a drink even more out there, a drink that even I would be excited about drinking?

The hardest part is where to start. One of the most effective methods is to pick a classic and start substituting. Playing with a drink that is tried and true is much easier than formulating an entire cocktail from the ether. But which classic? It must be bold, bitter, and primarily stirred. The Don't Give Up the Ship Cocktail instantly came to mind and it seemed perfect considering its boldness and subtlety.  This wonderful little cocktail combines an amaro, a wine-based aperitif, and gin, with a little orange (both sweet and bitter) to round it all out. It starts out big, with the herbal flavors of gin and fernet, but then the orange and wine flavors of the Cointreau and Dubonnet peek out when you aren't paying attention. It seemed a good a place to start as any.

Don't Give Up the Ship

1 1/2 ounce gin
1/2 ounce Dubonnet
1/4 ounce Fernet Branca
1/4 ounce Cointreau
1 dash orange bitters

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

The most obvious first step was to swap out the gin for vodka. Since I had recently ran out of Dubonnet, I substituted Punt e Mes, another wine-based aperitif that like Dubonnet has more punch that regular sweet vermouths. Actually Punt e Mes is quite bitter, but it is my go-to vermouth these days. Considering that the botanics from the gin were absent and the vermouth's flavor was now amped up, I decided to also use a lighter amaro, the CioCiaro. Its mild sweetness and orange notes also worked as a replacement for the Cointreau, which would have made the drink too sweet. In hindsight, this substitution was probably unnecessary as I am sure the Fernet would have provided an interesting direction as well. After pausing to test this initial combination, it still seemed too sweet. I added a touch of Gran Classico and Angostura bitters to further dry it out. I am pretty pleased with the results.

Vodka Experiment
1 1/2 ounces vodka (Dry Fly)
3/4 ounce Punt e Mes
1/4 ounce Amaro CioCiaro
1 barspoon Gran Classico
2 dashes Angostura bitters
1 dash orange bitters (Regan)

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

So after almost a month of tinkering, this was what I came up with. The aroma was full of the bright lemon oils that glisten on the surface. The cocktail was very smooth and dry, herbal and bitter, with a touch of orange and spice. My kind of drink. Because the vodka is so subtle, this cocktail came across almost like an aperitif hiding inside a cocktail.

End note: About halfway through the creation process, I discovered Imbibe's cover contest. While it didn't exactly change my thought-process, I did start taking this cocktail a bit more seriously than I had at the beginning of this vodka experiment. I will be submitting this cocktail, since I think it would be perfect in so many ways for the cover. But we shall see if they agree.

A Vodka Old Fashioned?

It's difficult to find a vodka-based drink that I can get excited about. In general, this has been one of the reasons why I find it hard to get excited about vodka. Too many recipes call for vodka, citrus, and syrup, at their most simplistic, or vodka, muddled fruit, citrus, and a some crazy flavored syrup, at the other extreme. As a good friend of mine recently said, "Who wants to drink boozy lemonade." Nutshell moment, anyone? Indeed, who does want to drink boozy lemonade? Granted, sometimes I do--hello, whiskey sour. But that isn't the point. Why is there nothing else? At the end of the day, whether it's fresh peaches or kumquats, muddled basil or cilantro, or even chinese five-spice or lavender syrup, once you add the vodka, it's still just a variation of boozy lemonade.

It's true that some people just want the buzz. Good for them. And drinking a really great non-alcoholic beverage with herbs, spice and fruits, and even sometimes vinegar, can be a mind-blowing experience. But why is that all there is? Sure, there is a time and a place for everything, but sometimes the easy answer isn't the best answer. And it sure as hell shouldn't be the only answer. Where are the spirit-forward vodka drinks? There must be room for the challenging vodka drinks, for the kind of drink that makes you sit up and pay attention to what's going on in your mouth, that make you say "Wow. Really?" What about a drink with citrus, syrup, and vodka is going to do that?  Vodka does not stand in the way of flavor; that is its best and worst feature. But there are so many interesting flavors out there--using a blank canvas for lemonade seems like a waste.

So in spite of my rant, the search continues. Trying to find a complex, flavor-filled vodka-based drink can lead to bitterness and resentment, headaches and frustration. But then you stumble across something so unlikely, so interesting that your hope is renewed and you almost forget about the conundrum of boozy lemonade. Well, almost.

Delancey (from Killer Cocktails) 

2 ounces vodka (Dry Fly)
1/2 teaspoon simple syrup
1 dash Peychaud's bitters
1 dash orange bitters (Angostura)

Combine the syrup and bitters in a chilled old fashioned glass. Add a large ice cube and vodka and give it a quick stir to incorporate. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Notes on Ingredients: I chose to use the Dry Fly as it has more flavor than most vodkas, but any vodka with flavor will do.

The Peychaud's bitters made this drink an almost neon pink, though I am sure the photo doesn't do it justice. Perhaps this fact alone would chase away many. The brightness of the lemon oils, the honey notes from the vodka and the smell of anise from the Peychaud's all contributed to the aroma. The first sip was extremely creamy and heavy with vanilla, characteristic of the Dry Fly. The bitters rounded out the flavors, with the orange standing out most on the swallow. As someone who is usually skeptical of vodka drinks, this drink was light and surprisingly refreshing. As the drink warmed up, the flavors of the lemon peel and the cherry notes of the Peychaud's became more apparent throughout.

Very few drinks allow vodka to be the star, where its subleties and nuances are showcased. There should be more. This vodka old fashioned hinges on the fact that a drink doesn't have to hit you over the head with flavor to command attention. Sometimes complexity and interest are not dependent on boldness and strength. Instead, the inherent qualities of the spirit are highlighted, just like in any other spirit-forward cocktail.

Drink Without a Name

Vodka sometimes gets a raw deal. Wait, did I actually say that out loud? (I mean write that out loud?) A few years ago, such sentiments never would have crossed my mind, much less my lips (fingers?). I had a lot to learn. It is easy to hate vodka. For a while it was even trendy to hate vodka, it might still be. I'm not going to suggest that there still aren't a lot of reasons for that hatred. But backlash has a kind of alluring appeal--the communal, mindless, mob mentality of it. Just pick up your torch and pitchfork and follow the guy in front of you. I have learned that I don't really hate vodka. I just don't drink it very often because I like a ton of flavor in my cocktails. And since vodka producers over the years have tried very hard to make a product with as little flavor as possible, and since they have made a pretty good living doing it, I would say all is fair. But that doesn't mean all vodkas are flavorless. It also doesn't mean that a cocktail with bold flavor can't have vodka in it. Those cocktails are just harder to find.

So what changed my mind? As little as two years ago, my primary use for vodka was as a tool, an ingredient that was useful only for making other yummy things. Infusions, yes. Bitters, yes. Preserving agent for syrups, yes. Base ingredient in a cocktail, please god no. But then I tasted some vodkas that had a lot of flavor, texture, and nuance. These vodkas were made to have flavor and thus weren't overly filtered, or distilled to death. I could taste actually taste the base ingredient, be it barley, corn, sugarcane or even grapes, but in a totally different way. It was such an eye-opening experience. Suddenly I started thinking that maybe my opinions about vodka weren't really fair. And mostly they weren't fair to me. I used to think I didn't like scotch, or tequila, or even gin--but then I tried some that I did like. It had more to do with individual brands and my taste buds than with an entire spirit category. And like everyone, some brands speak to me louder than others (or even in a wonderfully soft way). Just because I am not a fan of Jack Daniels doesn't mean I am not a fan of whiskey.

So I turned over a new leaf with vodka. I have decided to explore this new found tolerance with a few vodka-based cocktail classics, both modern and classic. Considering that these drink are classics, none of them call for the flavorful vodkas that so changed my mind. But in the name of personal growth, we shall see where this experiment with traditional vodka leads me. In these cocktails, the vodka's purpose is to soften the stronger flavors to bring about balance. The first drink I tried was Paul Harrington's Drink Without a Name.

Drink Without a Name

2 ounces vodka
1/4 ounce Cointreau
1/8 ounce Green Chartreuse

Stir ingredients in a ice-filled mixing glass. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange twist.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Chopin for the vodka.

The aromas of the orange oils and overwhelming herbal notes of the chartreuse greeted me when I took my first sip. As far as the taste is concerned, the vibrant flavors of orange were most apparent initially, before the green chartreuse took over. Even at one-eighth of an ounce the chartreuse still packed quite a punch. The Cointreau contributed a crisp, dry orange flavor, though on the swallow, it came across with more of a bitter orange flavor, in reminiscent of the peel. This drink had a creamy mouth feel and was quite refreshing. Considering how much I love green chartreuse, it was not surprising that I was very happy with this drink. Score one for vodka--never thought I would write that out loud either.