A Rum Drink Just in Time for Spring: Bertita's Special

March--a trying month to be sure. As winter loses its grip, a great impatience flourishes inside me, a restlessness stemming from the wearisome months of dark sky and early night. Accompanying this is a longing for all things bright, shiny, and summer-related. All of this daydreaming is of course helplessly premature. In places that are pummeled with snow and brutally cold temperatures, I imagine this phase occurs in February, when burrowing under layers and inside houses exceeds most people's thresholds for being couped up, mentally as well as physically. Seattle's winter weather at worst functions by erosion--you don't quite feel the pressure of a constant barrage, but little by little it builds up. For me, rock bottom occurs in early March.

I often wonder if our cravings are linked to our view of the passing of seasons, or vice versa. First comes that curious urge for all things barrel-aged that accompanies winter. It is not an unknown phenomenon, colder temperatures and shorter days readily link up with winter warmers usually including whiskey in all its various incarnations. Personally, that usually means rye, though this year I did take a brief sojourn into blended scotch. But restless taste buds can only handle so much of the same. As the season waxed and waned and the temperatures strayed from their lows, giving us teasing glimpses of the Spring, I found myself craving gin in combination with various amari. But at some point it all reaches a head, and drinks that are dark and bitter aren't as satisfying as they once were. So here we are: the days are lengthening, the cherry blossoms are tinting the streets with brilliant dashes of pink, and winter jackets seem a bit too heavy and oppressive. It can mean only one thing: the time for rum, citrus, color and maybe a bit of silliness has arrived. Thus, I flipped the page to Bertita's Special at exactly the right time, when tropical flavors can ease the passing of the last days of dreariness.  

Bertita's Special comes from South of the Border, from the small city of Taxco located in the mountains of Mexico, where many artists and artisans from America took up residence during the early part of the twentieth century "for various reasons, & with varying success." Bertita's Bar, owned by Dona Bertha, has been more famously linked to the creation of another drink, the Margarita. At best, it is one vague claim among many. Bertita's Bar, as Charles Baker notes, is a "dingy, but mildly celebrated place" and he notes that this drink--I am sure it was not the only one--is "poured with a heavy hand," which, considering Baker's taste, is probably why it was included in his tome. I can't help but imagine Bertita's as a spectacular example of a dive bar, with the perfect mixture of local color and lack of polish that makes certain places an unpretentious joy to visit.

Bertita's Special Cocktail (as adapted)

3 ounces light rum
3/4 ounce lime juice
2 ounces orange juice
1 teaspoon grenadine

Shake ingredients briefly with ice. Strain into a chilled Collins glass packed full of crushed ice. Float 1 teaspoon Jamaican rum on top.

Note on Ingredients: I used Cruzan white rum, homemade grenadine, and Smith and Cross for the float. Appleton's Estate V/X makes a fine substitute where Smith and Cross is unavailable.

Baker's instructions called for shaking the ingredients with cracked ice, pouring the contents--ice and all--into a large champagne glass, and then adding the float of Jamaican rum. I decided to shake the ingredients briefly with cubed ice and serve it over fresh crushed ice. In fact, it was very enjoyable and didn't become incredibly watered down.The aroma was full of Jamaican rum, which make sense because it was sitting right there on top. The first taste was also filled with the unmistakable hogo stamp of the Smith and Cross. What a wonderful way to start! Once through the initial sip, however, the lime stepped in. This drink reminded me of a mellowed-out daiquiri--tart, brisk and dry with a good dose of rum. Perhaps it would be more accurate to liken this libation to a mellower version of the Bacardi cocktail, a simple daiquiri with grenadine in place of sugar. With only a teaspoon of grenadine, the orange juice tempered the strength of the lime. The grenadine did, however, provide a nice color as well as a light berry note that became more apparent as the drink warmed up.The rum thoroughly dominated the aftertaste. This cocktail was exceptionally refreshing and really fit with my March mood, but it would also be wonderful during the warmer months.

Between the Sheets, but with Gin

We are in a happy place with Charles Baker at the moment. With Bertita's Special, a nice Bacardi Cocktail variation, the notorious Between the Sheets, a riff on a Sidecar, and a pair of simple rum concoctions we have entered a safe haven for the moment, protected from the myriad flavor surprises that I am sure await off in the distance. But by no means does this equate to boredom; Baker still has a few tricks up his sleeve; nothing is quite as simple or easy as it sounds.

Fresh squeezed lemon juice, check. Glasses chilling in the freezer, check. Tools, check. Everything was ready to go. With my hands full of Cointreau, brandy and rum, I wandered into the kitchen ready to begin pouring. Tracy had already settled onto the couch awaiting her beverage. Happy hour snacks were spread out on the table. Even the cats were settled in for a relaxing break. But while rechecking the proportions, I noticed that all was not as it seemed. Baker's Between the Sheets does not contain rum, his is made with gin.

When I really sat down to think about it, it wasn't all that surprising that the recipe for a cocktail could go that way over time. Sure, white rum and gin don't taste anything alike. No doubt about it. But more often than not, they work with the same flavors. And since they both lack those barrel-aged flavors, it is not surprising that they might have some of the same flavor affinities. So, especially if your cocktail has citrus in it, you could probably substitute light rum if you were lacking gin, or vice versa. I can't really explain it, but it works. Look at the Bee's Knees and the Honeysuckle. The Daiquiri and the Gin Rickey. Even the Seventh Heaven loosely resembles the Floridita, and the Darby is quite close to the Nevada. 

The Between the Sheets is an old classic, or at least the one containing rum in it is. Dating from at least the late 1920s, it is a damn fine variation on the Sidecar, which was the first classic cocktail to really catch my attention. (It was my graduate school go-to tipple.) It is easy to see why the Between the Sheets really took off during Prohibition as it combines cognac, standard in the Sidecar, with easier to find ingredients like the often ubiquitous bathtub gin and illegally imported rum. Originally, the proportions differed as well, with equal parts rum, brandy, and Cointreau, and only a dash of lemon juice. That's one big glass of booze with a hint of lemon. Well, at least it's not on the menu today. Over time the proportions changed to match the equal parts of the cocktail below. There is even a variation in trader Vic's guide that calls for gin and rum, and the cognac is just suggested as a substitute, as well as a drink called the Between the Sheets in Esquire's Handbook for Hosts that combines cognac, creme de cacao, cream, bitters, sugar, and a lemon peel. For once, it seems that the Baker variation isn't the most insane. My mouth is very glad.  

Jerusalem's Between the Sheets

3/4 ounce brandy
3/4 ounce Cointreau
3/4 ounce lemon juice
3/4 ounce gin

Shake with ice. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Notes on Ingredients: I used Paul Masson VSOP brandy, and Bellringer gin.

The orange liqueur and lemon dominate the aroma, though I thought I could pick up a hint of vanilla from the brandy. Tracy smelled pineapple, which though there was none, is not really surprising, considering the citrus and sweetness from the Cointreau. This cocktail was remniscent of the sidecar, and thus was pleasantly tart and refreshing. Initially, the flavors of the lemon and orange were most prominent. The gin showed up at the end, and the brandy added a pleasant richness to the drink. The flavors progressed from the tart lemon, to the richness and slightly sweet taste of the Cointreau and brandy, before ending with dryness of the gin. As the drink warmed up, the botanics of the gin combined to create a pleasantly subtle flavor. The after taste was filled with vanilla notes from the brandy. This libation is a nice change from the sidecar, but the original will always have a special place in my heart.