Underused Ingredients: Aquavit

My first introduction to aquavit came a couple of years ago at House Spirits Distillery in Portland. And while it was their Aviation gin that inspired the visit, it was their caraway-flavored spirit with the heavy notes of anise that really caught my attention. Of course, I went home with a bottle. At the time, I didn't have a lot of experience with aquavit, and it sat in my liquor cabinet for quite some time untouched. But thankfully all that has changed, and aquavit, with its complicated flavors, is one of my favorite things.

Aquavit, like gin, gives distillers the freedom to express their creativity and thus formulate a signature flavor. Fortunately, the boundaries are only limited by each distiller's imagination. Caraway is usually the dominant flavor, but other flavors like fennel, coriander, citrus peels and anise commonly round out the blend. Strangely, many of these ingredients are also used in gin recipes. But the presence of the caraway, as well as other more savory ingredients like cumin, dill or even amber (tree resin is used in the production of Aalborg), give aquavit a flavor profile all its own.

The only unfortunate thing about aquavit is its availability. Considering that more and more bartenders are becoming interested in experimenting with its notoriously savory flavors, historically only three brands have been imported: Aalborg (Denmark), Linie (Norway), and O.P. Andersson (Sweden). This is just a tiny fraction of the aquavit produced worldwide. The arrival of a new aquavit on the scene, Aquavit New York (Sweden, only imported to New York), may represent a much needed shift.

On the flip side, a few American craft distillers have recently become infatuated with the challenges and intricacies of aquavit. Who can blame them? These American aquavits have helped bolster the popularity of the spirit, making it a more common sight on back bars. Like many craft-distilled gins, American craft aquavits can often be characterized by their big, bold flavors. Krogstad Aquavit, from House Spirits, is unlike Scandinavian aquavits in that it has a whopping dose of anise in addition to the caraway. These bold flavors make a dram of this spirit a wonderfully intense experience. These powerful flavors make Krogstad especially well-suited for cocktails, because it can stand up to other bold flavors.

While aquavit's presence on cocktail menus has certainly grown, there is still plenty of room for improvement. But the caraway flavor can provide quite a challenge. Use too little, and you don't know it's there, too much and the results can be overly medicinal, at best. And like gin, even picking the best aquavit for a cocktail can prove problematic. American aquavits can easily overpower other delicate ingredients, and the Scandinavian aquavits can play the wallflower. All of these issues together have kept aquavit from receiving its moment in the sun. Hopefully this is about to change. Here are some of my more recent aquavit cocktail discoveries.  

Nordic Reviver (created by Evan Martin, Ba Bar)

3/4 ounce aquavit
3/4 ounce lemon juice
3/4 ounce Cointreau
3/4 ounce Swedish punsch

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

Notes on Ingredients: I halved the aquavit between Krogstad and Linie and used homemade Swedish punsch.

Because of its herbal characteristics, aquavit can often often be substituted for gin, especially when the cocktail also includes fresh juices. In fact, like gin, aquavit can be easily be inserted in most vodka drinks to embolden the flavors.

This is one of my favorite Ccrpse revivers variations, though to be perfectly correct it is a variation of the Corpse Reviver 2a. In the original cocktail, Evan used Aalborg. I decided to blend a Norwegian aquavit, Linie, with an American one Krogstad, to bump up the flavors just a bit. The Linie differs from most of the other available aquavits as it has been mellowed for four and a half months in used Oloroso sherry casks. In the Nordic Reviver, the anise notes of the absinthe work exceptionally well with the caraway of the Linie, and the Swedish punsch adds a nice tannic, spice layer. I would think that the Krogstad would work equally well in this cocktail, though the absinthe rinse may not be needed.

[Unnamed Work in Progress] (created by Ben Philip Perri, Zig Zag Cafe)

1 1/2 ounces aquavit
1/2 ounce rye
1/2 ounce Punt e Mes
1/4 ounce maraschino liqueur
1 dash mescal


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

Notes on Ingredients: I used Linie aquavit, Rittenhouse bonded rye, and Maraska maraschino. I chose the del Maguey Minero for the mescal.

Aquavit also pairs exceptionally well with rye. The Old Bay Ridge, David Wondrich's aquavit-rye old fashioned, showcases just how well this works in the simplest terms; it is a traditional old fashioned but with the spirit allotment split in half between the rye and aquavit. In cocktails with herbal vermouths, aquavit's affinity for rye becomes incredibly important--just a bit of rye mellows out the aquavit's herbaceousness and makes blending two very different herbal ingredients that much easier. While this cocktail is a loose variation on the Red Hook, it highlights what can happen when caraway intersects with rye. I find that the dash of mescal provides that extra level of oomph that really pushes this drink for good to great. Substituting a peaty scotch for the mescal would probably work as well, though it would still be quite different.

From Norway to Sicily


1 ounce aquavit
3/4 ounce Averna
1/2 ounce rye
1/8 ounce (bar spoon) Benedictine
2 dashes aromatic bitters


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

Notes on Ingredients: I used Linie aquavit, Sazerac rye, and Angostura bitters.

Lately I have been kind of obsessed with adding amari to almost everything. So when I started thinking about aquavit, I thought, why not? Initially I was inspired to use Averna with its mild bitterness to match up with the mild Linie. Sweet vermouth was an option that I passed on. I really wanted to explore the intersection of the aquavit and the amaro. Using vermouth would have added a different feel, though it would have made the entire endeavour easier. Suffice it to say, the early attempts were ugly. Marley Tomic Beard of Sexton gave me some advice that led me to a perfect solution. Like in the above cocktail, the addition of rye really fixed this drink. Then the rest just fell into place. I am sure that further experimentation with aquavit and different amari would also yield really some really memorable drinks.

Untraditional Bitters Part One: Meat Hook

Cocktail history unofficially began when someone somewhere added bitters to his (or her, though unlikely) morning dram. But what exactly are bitters? We know the names. The ubiquitous Angostura. The classics, Regan's and Peychaud's. Brands such as the Bitter Truth, Bittermens, Scrappys and a host of others anchor the newer, more modern entries into the bitters catalogue. But what are they really, I mean, besides bitter? Usually, they consist of complex, unabashedly intense combinations of flavor where at least one element is just plain God-damned bitter--thus, the bittering agent. Quassia, Gentian, and Calamus are all examples of the extreme versions, though many other herbs are available that have varying strengths. Layered on top of these potent, sometimes even eye-watering flavors are the tasty elements one might actually like to encounter: grapefruit, orange, cloves, cinnamon, rhubarb, lavender, the list goes on and on and is expanded by the day. By combining a bittering agent with these more palatable flavors, you get bitters. And once you have tasted them straight, usually as a single drop or three, it is easy to understand why they are only used in dashes.

For a cocktail, bitters are transformative. In an Old Fashioned, the bitters add embellishment to slightly sweetened straight spirits. But over time as cocktails became more complicated, and a whole slew of ingredients were introduced to the barman's milieu, the role of bitters grew. No longer did bitters just add that zip of flavor to invigorate a glass of spirits and balance the sweetness. Indeed, they became the glue that pulled a drink together. One tiny dash could connect the dots among disparate ingredients and contribute a certain amount of depth. To boil it all down, bitters keep your taste buds in the game by keeping the whole experience interesting from first chilled sip to the last swig.

Somewhere along the line, though, bitters changed. Not by name or definition, but instead by what could be used as bitters. Dashes of other stongly flavored ingredients were soon finding their way into cocktails to "finish" them and ensure balance. Absinthe is probably the most widely acknowledged classic ingredient to be used this way, though it is not the only one. Considering absinthe's high proof--most of them historically clock in at around 130 proof--it is not surprising that both the strength and intense bitter wormwood flavor allowed absinthe to be used in dashes to excellent effect, just like bitters. Even in small amounts, it has enough flavor to stand out and compliment all sorts of unruly cocktail ingredients.

But absinthe isn't the only strong flavor that can be used this way. Green chartreuse, scotch, mezcal, and even Fernet Branca have all taken their turn as bitters. Whether these untraditional ingredients are added in dashes to the shaker or employed as aromatic rinses, contemporary bartenders have experimented with these flavors to add an extra dimension to an original cocktail or twist a classic.

For a long time I overlooked this phenomenon. Even as I read Gary Regan's article in the San Francisco Chronicle touting smoky scotch's new role, I barely batted an eyelash. But this was all pre-Meat Hook. While visiting Vancouver, Canada earlier this year that I was lucky enough to try this delicious play on the Red Hook at L'Abbatoir. It took an Ardbeg-laced Manhattan variation to really make me sit up and pay attention to the possibilities. By practicing restraint with such a bold flavor, a new experience is uncovered. It was amazing. Thankfully, the recipe was easy to find thanks to a Drinker's Peace, a Vancouver drinks blog.

Meat Hook (adapted from A Drinker's Peace, original created by Shaun Layton)

1 1/2 ounces rye
3/4 ounce Punt e Mes
1/3 ounce Islay scotch
1 teaspoon maraschino liqueur

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

Notes on Ingredients: I used Rittenhouse 100 proof, Ardbeg, and Maraska maraschino.

Now, it is true that the amount of scotch in the Meat Hook is certainly more than a dash. But this doesn't seem to buck any modern trends--it's become common for cocktails to call for more bitters. Where once 2 dashes was considered a hefty dose of those potent flavors, today's bartenders utilize ever greater amounts. Cocktails that call for 4 or even 5 dashes are full of flavor and ruffle no feathers. Of course, we shouldn't forget those cocktails that are based on bitters. But that is another story altogether.

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.

Maximillian Affair

During the Fall brown spirits dominate. Bar menus, blogs and magazine don't lie. Those bright citrus-laden drinks are relegated to warmer climates and distant seasons. The barren trees mean heartier fare and that usually means whiskey. I am no stranger to this trend. When it gets cold, you can usually find me curled up in a whiskey barrel (with a blanket, of course) and asking not to be woken until Spring. But something about this year seems different. Maybe its me, maybe my tastes are changing, and I', turning over a new boozy leaf. Maybe it's just that there are so many more barrel-aged options. And perhaps, just maybe I was wrong when cold weather had to mean whiskey or brown spirits (and maybe this sounds familiar, dear reader). And yet another option might be that I have been listening to the call of the smooth herbal complexity of sweet vermouth and those assorted amari. So, recently when I wanted mezcal, I knew I was having a nervous breakdown. The mezcal I have is not brown, because it is not aged in a barrel. Hesitantly, I checked outside—still ohmigod cold and damp, hell it was winter of all things. Thank goodness I can blame sweet vermouth and amari to bail me out of this.

Agave spirits play particularly well with sweet vermouth. Both the earthy, floral notes of tequila and the similarly earthy, yet uniquely smoky flavors of mezcal perfectly complement sweet vermouth's assorted botanics. In general, I was drawn to this cocktail because of that pairing. But more specifically, my interest was sparked by the idea of mezcal with Punt e Mes, a variety of sweet vermouth that is somewhere between sweet vermouth and Campari. It is more bitter and flavorful than most sweet vermouths I have tasted, and because of this, it is my go-to sweet vermouth. I just love how it dries out a bourbon in a Manhattan, or how it riffs off gin in a Fin de Siecle or Hoskins. Any recipe that calls for it by name will rank high with me. This cocktail has been on my to-drink list for a while. Misty Kalkofen of Boston's notorious Drink is the creator of this lovely libation and every Kalkofen original that I have been lucky enough to taste has been an absolute stunner.

Maximilian Affair

1 1/4 ounces mezcal

3/4 ounce St. Germain

1/2 ounce Punt e Mes

1/4 ounce lemon juice

Shake all of the ingredients and strain in to a chilled cocktail glass.

Note on Ingredients: I used the del Maguey Minero mezcal for this drink.

This is one seriously awesome cocktail. The mezcal dominated the aroma with its smokiness and the first sip was heavy with its vegetal, grassy flavors. The St. Germain contributed its mellow fruitiness to the mix, and later even seemed to provide herbal notes as the drink warmed up.  This, in turn, allowed the herbal notes of the Punt E Mes to shine. You might think that this cocktail would be sweet, with the St. Germain at three-quarters of an ounce, but the lemon juice and vermouth balanced it out perfectly. The mezcal was the star of this drink though, and it was unmistakable in every taste. Its lingering smokiness even followed each sip. What a tasty way to end the night.

Grand Street

Recently, Tracy and I were on vacation in NYC and we went to Death and Company. It was a night to remember, and one of the fabulous cocktails I had was called a Grand Street. I knew as soon as I saw it on the menu that I had to order it. Gin, Punt e Mes, Cynar and maraschino—a whole lot of my favorite things all in one glass. But as the night wore on, and more drinks were ordered and relished, I forgot to ask about proportions. This is especially sad because after all, I was sitting at the bar, chatting with the bartender, and she was really nice. So now weeks later, I am home, wishing I could have a Grand Street. And the search begins.

Well, let me tell you, dear reader, the recipe is not on the Internet—I checked. I could throw my hands up and say, oh well and move onto something that would be reminiscent, like a Hoskins or a Fin de Siecle. So I thought to myself, I have all of the ingredients, why not try to figure it out . . . it might even be fun. Staring at the ingredient list, I began looking for any similarities with the classic cocktails I am familiar with. A lot of contemporary cocktails start as riffs on classics. And lo and behold a lightbulb went off, I saw spirit, vermouth, amaro, and liqueur. You see, my favorite cocktail is the Brooklyn: rye, dry vermouth, amer picon, maraschino. I at least had a place to start.

Brooklyn Cocktail (adapted) 

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

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

So here is what I came up with for my interpretation of the Grand Street:

Drink Inspired by the Grand Street

2 ounces gin
3/4 ounce Punt e Mes
1/4 ounce Cynar
1/4 ounce maraschino liqueur

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

Notes on ingredients/method: I used Bellringer gin, though any London dry would work.  Plymouth would also work well. I used the Maraska maraschino as that is what I had on hand.

The grapefruit was very strong in the aroma, as it should be with all of those oils glittering on the surface. Underneath, I could just make out the bittersweet fragrance of the Cynar and the Punt e Mes.  With the grapefruit still lingering in my nose, I dove in to find, in addition to the grapefruit, the dry juniper flavors of the gin mingling with the richness of the Cynar and Punt e Mes. There were definitely a lot of herbal elements floating around in there. The strength of the other ingredients tempered the funky cherry sweetness of the maraschino and rounded out the flavors. The bittersweet flavors of the herbs and the dryness of the gin lingered long after each swallow. In combination, the slightly bitter sweet vermouth, the slight sweet amaro, the dry gin and sweet maraschino all seemed to balance one another in a very complex way. The grapefruit twist provides just enough brightness, to the eye, nose and mouth,  to make drink really sing. 

Now, I am not quite sure that I have re-created the Grand Street as it is at Death and Company. But I am happy to have created something very nice that was inspired by something equally very nice.

Fin de Siècle Cocktail

This Memorial Day weekend was very wet. It seems to be like this every year. The rain drizzles down the windows, the clouds make a fortress against the sun, and a slight breeze whistles past the windows--just enough to bring goose bumps to your arms. With weather like this, Tracy and I curl up under a blanket and put in a movie. This is some riveting spring weather! Seattle is famous for having cold and wet Memorial Day weekends. The city empties as its residents flock to other locales in the hope of finding that faint glimmer of summer that is still months away. With our cats nearby, three red Netflix envelopes newly arrived in the mail, and blankets at the ready, we fortified ourselves with this classic cocktail from the 1920s, the Fin de Siècle.

Fin de Siècle Cocktail

1 1/2 ounces English dry gin (Martin Miller's*)

3/4 ounce sweet vermouth (Punt e mes)

1/4 amer Boudreau

1 dash orange bitters (Regan's)

Stir in an ice-filled mixing glass

Strain into a chilled cocktail glass

The aroma is full of orange notes and cucumber, provided by the Martin Miller's. Hints of juniper and clove round out the nose, though the sharp bitterness of the amer is also detectable. The flavor of bitter oranges and Martin Miller's inherent spiciness dominate the flavor profile. The finish, though, is full of the herbal complexity of the amer and the very different spiciness of the punt e mes. The faintest taste of cucumbers lingers after every sip. This is one hearty, full-bodied drink. It is dry with a hint of bitterness, and the spiciness of the punt e mes works well with the robust flavors of the gin, particularly the black pepper and cloves. I think that the boldness of the Miller's works especially well in this drink, as its strong flavors play well with the amer, bringing its a rich caramel flavors, and both are tempered, and enhanced, by the interplay of the punt e mes.

*Stevi Deter of Two at Most had the great idea of using Miller's gin in this cocktail, and what a great idea it was. My palate says thanks for the info.