Christmas and New Year have fallen reasonably well for me this year, in that I've got a reasonable amount of time not at work inbetween days at work. I had big reading plans but haven't really followed through on them, instead it's been a bit of gentle tidying and a lot of being quite lazy and doing nothing - a rare treat that I'm enjoying.
There's also been a bit of drinking nice things, so a few thoughts about home bars and wine storage seems like a logical way to finish up decembers posts, not least because I had some good luck hunting for glasses yesterday - good glasses are very important.
In terms of keeping wine at home I used to live in a house that didn't have central heating, it was extraordinarily cold in the winter, and not especially warm in the summer. It didn't have a cellar, but it had a cupboard under the stairs which maintained an even and low temperature throughout the year, protected wine from sunlight, and generally kept things very well.
The flat I live in now gets far to hot in the summer, doesn't have anywhere really good to keep wine, and after opening a couple of older bottles recently I've renewed my resolve to get through all the good stuff I've had hanging around for a while whilst it's still worth drinking. A bottle of Sauturnes had definitely gone past it's best, and I got to a bottle of 2003 Shiraz I opened last night just in the nick of time. The cork was crumbly and another hot summer would have seriously started to cook the fruit flavours out of it. The lesson really is if you don't have somewhere appropriate to store wine, don't hang on to it, or over invest in things that need cellaring before they're worth drinking.
Storage issues are one reason why I drink more spirits than wine now (the other is that I find it easy to have a single gin, whisky, whatever whereas when a bottle of wine is open there's a very specific window within which it needs to be drunk, which can mean pressure to drink more than I want to).
I know from work that my increasing interest in cocktails (specifically) is a commonly shared one, so much so that it's customers questions that started me down that particular path in the first place. The home bar is definitely becoming a thing again (Henry Jeffrey's has even written a Book about it).
From a wine merchants point of view, as well as a personal one, I have a lot of opinions about home bars starting with cocktail mixing equipment. I've not had much luck with proper cocktail shakers (I find the top, which should also act as a measure often gets sticky and stuck, that the threads for screwing and unscrewing the top half are often not as good as they could be) and I'm quite happy improvising with a jar that once had cherries in kirsch in it. This suits me and the kind of drinks I'm mixing, so I think it's worth taking the time to work out exactly what sort of equipment you want or need rather than spending money on it up front.
Glasses however are really important. When it comes to wine glass shape matters a lot, if you buy good wine invest in good glasses, they'll noticeably improve the drinking experience. The very minimum standard should be a reasonably thin, tulip shaped glass big enough to be able to swish your wine around in a bit (should you feel the need to do such a thing). In terms of cocktails tumblers, high ball glasses, and cocktail glasses are all neccesary.
Presentation matters for these drinks, it's half the fun of them, so taking care over the glasses you buy makes sense. Mine are mostly antique and junk shop finds, and not expensive. I have some Edwardian Champagne coupes that are terrible for Champagne (the bubbles dissipate far to quickly, and it does nothing for the aroma) but which do good service as cocktail glasses, and which I particularly love.
My preferences are for glasses which have a good weight and balance to them, feel nice to hold, fit well into my hand, and feel good against the mouth - so I think you need to be able to pick them up before you buy them. What exactly that means will vary according to the individual, but definitely take the trouble to get glasses right for you.
A lot of cookbooks include cocktail recipes now, and there's a growing number of dedicated books too, as well as a world of information online. It's worth having at least one dedicated book you really like as a starting point though. For me that's the Savoy Cocktail guide which reflects other interests (period detail particularly) as well as giving lots of template recipes that have taught me how to make simple things well. There's also a lot of crap in it, so if you're not specifically interested in the history element it might not be your first choice. As long as whatever book you start with has a good selection of things that don't need a lot of ingredients, and sound like you want to drink them, you're off to a good start.
Use good quality ingredients for your drinks, that doesn't mean super premium, but if a things worth doing, it's worth doing well. I very much believe in drink less but better. I want my drinks to be a treat (from coffee upwards) and I'm not going to compromise on the quality of the gin, Brandy, whisky, Rum, vodka, or tequila I have in the house. (Nothing below 40% abv, brands I like, flavour profiles that work well in mixed drinks)
That also means that I want a good repertoire of drinks that build on the same basic themes because I don't want a small fortunes worth of bottles cluttering the place up. More so because a lot of liqueurs are relatively low in alcohol (around 20%) as are vermouths. They start to lose their flavour if they're open too long, so however tempting it is to buy all the drinks, be sensible about it, also periodically check open bottles to make sure they still taste right. Bitters on the other hand are you're friend in this situation. They keep reasonably well, and you can have all sorts of fun with them.
I don't drink enough, or with enough people, to want to bother making flavoured syrups which again need to be used fairly quickly. They also demand a degree of forethought about the drinks you will be making that doesn't suit me. However appealing a drink sounds on paper it's worth considering if it's the kind of thing you really want to make before you embark on a weeks worth of preparation and buy a list as long as your arm of things to go in it. If on the other hand this is exactly what you do want to be doing, I'd be delighted to be your friend and help you try these creations.
Happy, sensible, drinking, and Happy New Year.
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Monday, December 24, 2018
The Complete Saki with Pol Roger Blanc de Blanc
It's here - work is done, I'm off for the next 3 days, and after that it's all considerably calmer anyway. It's not been an easy week, but I'm more or less in one piece, and so ready to drink champagne.
My mother and I have a tradition going back a good few years now, I go to stay with her in Christmas Eve, taking the best bottle of champagne I have with me, and we sit and drink it. It's possibly the best part of our Christmas, we might have a bit of pottering around left to do, but the hard work and prep is out the way. We make half hearted suggestions about midnight mass, play with the dog, watch a bit of television, and talk. If my sister would let us it's when we'd open our Christmas presents (we did for a couple of years when we were going elsewhere on Christmas Day, it seemed like a much better time).
The end result is that we're happy, relaxed, and full of good champagne. This one was my New Years resolution for 2018, I like Pol Roger as a house (a lot) but have never tried the Blanc de Blanc (do called because it's made from 100% Chardonnay, the only white grape amongst the 3 permitted varieties for champagne).
I don't read much in December - I'm too busy at the beginning, too tired and grumpy at the end to concentrate on much, but by the time I go to bed tonight I will want a book again, and I'll want it to be something like Saki. I feel like he's not quite as much loved as he ought to be, I could be totally wrong about that, but People don't seem to talk about him so much as they might.
I spent a long time trying to think of the right drink for him, he died in 1916, shot by a sniper. He was in his 40's and needn't have signed up at all, but wanted too. It's a side of him that seems a little at odds with the elegant, witty, satire of his short stories. His sister destroyed most of his papers after his death and wrote her own account of their childhood. As Saki (Hector Hugh Munro) was gay it's easy enough to see why she might have felt she had to do that, and such a shame to think about what we lost in the process.
We have his stories and books though, and they are brilliant (one of them is featured heavily as a plot point in Raymond Postgate's 'Verdict of Twelve' reprinted in the British Library crime classics series and also excellent). In the end nothing other than Champagne with both its soarklevand acidity seemed right.
Happy Christmas everyone, I hope you all have something good to read, and something nice to drink be it tea or champagne or anything in between.
My mother and I have a tradition going back a good few years now, I go to stay with her in Christmas Eve, taking the best bottle of champagne I have with me, and we sit and drink it. It's possibly the best part of our Christmas, we might have a bit of pottering around left to do, but the hard work and prep is out the way. We make half hearted suggestions about midnight mass, play with the dog, watch a bit of television, and talk. If my sister would let us it's when we'd open our Christmas presents (we did for a couple of years when we were going elsewhere on Christmas Day, it seemed like a much better time).
The end result is that we're happy, relaxed, and full of good champagne. This one was my New Years resolution for 2018, I like Pol Roger as a house (a lot) but have never tried the Blanc de Blanc (do called because it's made from 100% Chardonnay, the only white grape amongst the 3 permitted varieties for champagne).
I don't read much in December - I'm too busy at the beginning, too tired and grumpy at the end to concentrate on much, but by the time I go to bed tonight I will want a book again, and I'll want it to be something like Saki. I feel like he's not quite as much loved as he ought to be, I could be totally wrong about that, but People don't seem to talk about him so much as they might.
I spent a long time trying to think of the right drink for him, he died in 1916, shot by a sniper. He was in his 40's and needn't have signed up at all, but wanted too. It's a side of him that seems a little at odds with the elegant, witty, satire of his short stories. His sister destroyed most of his papers after his death and wrote her own account of their childhood. As Saki (Hector Hugh Munro) was gay it's easy enough to see why she might have felt she had to do that, and such a shame to think about what we lost in the process.
We have his stories and books though, and they are brilliant (one of them is featured heavily as a plot point in Raymond Postgate's 'Verdict of Twelve' reprinted in the British Library crime classics series and also excellent). In the end nothing other than Champagne with both its soarklevand acidity seemed right.
Happy Christmas everyone, I hope you all have something good to read, and something nice to drink be it tea or champagne or anything in between.
Sunday, December 23, 2018
And The Wind Sees All with Martin Miller's Gin
One more day of work left before Christmas and I feel broken. Bone weary, and emotionally wrung out with the effort of shifting stock and being pleasant to people intent on visiting their own frustrations on someone not allowed to reciprocate in kind. The flip side of that is how amazing it is when people are pleasant and you get to share a bit of mutual vermouth appreciation (I grant you that the last bit is quite specific, but people being nice, talking about nice things - my god, does it ever make for a better day).
There is apparently an Icelandic tradition whereby books are given on Christmas Eve, and people read late into the night. I was doubtful about this when I first heard it, it sounded too good to be true, but seems it is. I have my own tradition for Christmas Eve, but if I didn't have to be at work for 7am tomorrow, if instead this was the start of my Christmas break, I'd be reading this book.
'And The Wind Sees All' takes place over two minutes in an Icelandic fishing village, at 172 pages it's a bit longer than some of Peirene's novellas have been, but it's still the sort of thing you could read in a night if you wanted too. They also tend to be books challenging enough to demand a bit of thought - and I've missed the time and space to read anything like that in over the last month.
There's nothing in the tradition that says it has to be an Icelandic book, but it seems to me that a novella makes sense for something like this. Something that you can start and finish in a sitting, that gives you time to put the stress of the last few weeks behind you so that when you finish you're only looking forward. Or just a book you can really immerse yourself in, and I've been meaning to read this one for a while.
Martin Millar's gin is a longstanding favourite. Unusually I can vividly remember the first time I tried it (an Oddbins wine fair when they were launching it with the company). At that time gin was considerably less fashionable than it is now, and not something you'd generally consider drinking neat. Neat is how we were offered it though and the quality was a revelation. I've loved this gin ever since.
It's unique selling point is that although the gin is distilled in the U.K., the water it's cut with comes from Iceland - because it's so much purer that water anywhere else, and makes a discernible difference to the end result (I've spoken to people who were part of the development process who swear this is not just a sales pitch). Back then the gin had to go to Iceland and then come back, now I think I'm right in saying the water comes to the gin.
More than anything though I just want to shout out about how good this gin is, I have a handful of favourites, and struggle to resist anything new that looks interesting - but if pushed this would be the one I'd stick with if I had to. It's mid price (not cheap, but well under £30) super premium quality, and good in everything that you might want gin for. It's a classic juniper forward gin, you don't need to worry about which tonic is going to bring out its finer points (whatever your favourite tonic is will be just fine) or get to worked up about garnishes (I favour lime, or nothing at all).
There is apparently an Icelandic tradition whereby books are given on Christmas Eve, and people read late into the night. I was doubtful about this when I first heard it, it sounded too good to be true, but seems it is. I have my own tradition for Christmas Eve, but if I didn't have to be at work for 7am tomorrow, if instead this was the start of my Christmas break, I'd be reading this book.
'And The Wind Sees All' takes place over two minutes in an Icelandic fishing village, at 172 pages it's a bit longer than some of Peirene's novellas have been, but it's still the sort of thing you could read in a night if you wanted too. They also tend to be books challenging enough to demand a bit of thought - and I've missed the time and space to read anything like that in over the last month.
There's nothing in the tradition that says it has to be an Icelandic book, but it seems to me that a novella makes sense for something like this. Something that you can start and finish in a sitting, that gives you time to put the stress of the last few weeks behind you so that when you finish you're only looking forward. Or just a book you can really immerse yourself in, and I've been meaning to read this one for a while.
Martin Millar's gin is a longstanding favourite. Unusually I can vividly remember the first time I tried it (an Oddbins wine fair when they were launching it with the company). At that time gin was considerably less fashionable than it is now, and not something you'd generally consider drinking neat. Neat is how we were offered it though and the quality was a revelation. I've loved this gin ever since.
It's unique selling point is that although the gin is distilled in the U.K., the water it's cut with comes from Iceland - because it's so much purer that water anywhere else, and makes a discernible difference to the end result (I've spoken to people who were part of the development process who swear this is not just a sales pitch). Back then the gin had to go to Iceland and then come back, now I think I'm right in saying the water comes to the gin.
More than anything though I just want to shout out about how good this gin is, I have a handful of favourites, and struggle to resist anything new that looks interesting - but if pushed this would be the one I'd stick with if I had to. It's mid price (not cheap, but well under £30) super premium quality, and good in everything that you might want gin for. It's a classic juniper forward gin, you don't need to worry about which tonic is going to bring out its finer points (whatever your favourite tonic is will be just fine) or get to worked up about garnishes (I favour lime, or nothing at all).
Saturday, December 22, 2018
Bodies From The Library with a Bronx
This is a collection of previously lost stories by big names in golden age detective fiction, selected and introduced by Tony Medawar. I bought it at the Bodies From the Library classic crime conference at the British Library in the summer. I'd normally wait for a book to come out in paperback - hardbacks take up more space than I like in my small flat, but it had a Georgette Heyer story and looked like fun.
I love the idea of lost stories - they're the sort that appeared in often quite obscure magazines (some had never been printed before) and were once bread and butter for successful writer in a way they just aren't any more, so potentially there are a lot of them out there. Some will be better than others - the Heyer in this one isn't her best work by a long way, but it was fun to read as a fan.
Shamefully I never got much further than the Heyer story, so this is another book I'm looking forward to getting stuck into when things calm down a bit (two more days of crazy left at work, and frankly my brain is fried when it comes to anything that involves any kind of concentration). There are some big names here (Agatha Christie, Cyril Hare, Freeman Wills Croft, and A.A. Milne amongst them.
It's just the thing for fans of golden age crime, not least for it's curiosity value, and for people like me because I love a short story collection. I also think they're the perfect Christmas present because however busy the day is chances are you'll get the chance to read at least a couple.
I've chosen a Bronx cocktail to go with it because Georgette Heyer has one of her characters order one at her club in 'Footsteps in the Dark' and because it uses 2 kinds of vermouth, which works well with my current obsession. It also gives me a chance to talk about Martinis which I like to do, so...
A Bronx is basically a perfect, or medium, Martini with added orange juice. Martinis have become progressively drier over the years, something that I consider to be more or less macho nonsense - I see no reason not to drink more or less neat gin if that's what you like, but it's not what most people really like.
The recipe for a dry martini in the Savoy Cocktail Book is 2/3rds gin, 1/3rd French vermouth which I think is about right - I've seen recipes that have as little as 1/10th vermouth. The medium Martini is 1/2 gin, 1/4 French vermouth (dry), 1/4 Italian (sweet, and in my case also rosso). If very dry drinks aren't your thing it's an excellent place to start, and much as I love gin, I also like be the range of flavours the vermouths bring to this drink. To make it a Bronx add the juice of quarter of an orange, shake it up over ice, and strain into a glass.
The addition of orange juice makes it feel like a lighter drink, without losing the sense that you're drinking a hefty amount of alcohol (which it's not safe to forget). Still, it sits better on an empty stomach as a pre dinner drink than a lot of other things I've tried (I like the idea of these for New Year's Day when you're still in a holiday mood, but making a nod towards better intentions).
I love the idea of lost stories - they're the sort that appeared in often quite obscure magazines (some had never been printed before) and were once bread and butter for successful writer in a way they just aren't any more, so potentially there are a lot of them out there. Some will be better than others - the Heyer in this one isn't her best work by a long way, but it was fun to read as a fan.
Shamefully I never got much further than the Heyer story, so this is another book I'm looking forward to getting stuck into when things calm down a bit (two more days of crazy left at work, and frankly my brain is fried when it comes to anything that involves any kind of concentration). There are some big names here (Agatha Christie, Cyril Hare, Freeman Wills Croft, and A.A. Milne amongst them.
It's just the thing for fans of golden age crime, not least for it's curiosity value, and for people like me because I love a short story collection. I also think they're the perfect Christmas present because however busy the day is chances are you'll get the chance to read at least a couple.
I've chosen a Bronx cocktail to go with it because Georgette Heyer has one of her characters order one at her club in 'Footsteps in the Dark' and because it uses 2 kinds of vermouth, which works well with my current obsession. It also gives me a chance to talk about Martinis which I like to do, so...
A Bronx is basically a perfect, or medium, Martini with added orange juice. Martinis have become progressively drier over the years, something that I consider to be more or less macho nonsense - I see no reason not to drink more or less neat gin if that's what you like, but it's not what most people really like.
The recipe for a dry martini in the Savoy Cocktail Book is 2/3rds gin, 1/3rd French vermouth which I think is about right - I've seen recipes that have as little as 1/10th vermouth. The medium Martini is 1/2 gin, 1/4 French vermouth (dry), 1/4 Italian (sweet, and in my case also rosso). If very dry drinks aren't your thing it's an excellent place to start, and much as I love gin, I also like be the range of flavours the vermouths bring to this drink. To make it a Bronx add the juice of quarter of an orange, shake it up over ice, and strain into a glass.
The addition of orange juice makes it feel like a lighter drink, without losing the sense that you're drinking a hefty amount of alcohol (which it's not safe to forget). Still, it sits better on an empty stomach as a pre dinner drink than a lot of other things I've tried (I like the idea of these for New Year's Day when you're still in a holiday mood, but making a nod towards better intentions).
Friday, December 21, 2018
Rasputin and Other Ironies with Kümmel
Looking back at 2018 from the perspective of the solstice (why isn't the year arranged so that this is New Year's Eve?) it's been a mixed bag. One of the better things about it has been finally reading Teffi and the glorious feeling of anticipation that comes of knowing you have plenty more books to go.
This collection of short stories and essays feel like memoir, though I think they're more fictional than accurately biographical - not that it much matters, some characters are to big to be confined by fact, and Teffi certainly seems like such a one. There's a particularly good story in here about a young woman struggling with some of the frustrations of motherhood all centred around a Christmas tree decoration, and another about a young girl at her first Christmas ball that give the book a vaguely seasonal edge if you're looking for it, but as it also covers experiences from a long, varied, and eventful life, there's something for every season.
At some point I suppose I'll have to get to grips with vodka, but it's not a spirit I have much of an opinion about. If you taste them side by side (taste not drink) you can tell the difference between those made from potato, rye, wheat, apple, grape or whatever else someone has decided will make a particularly arresting unique selling point. Once you add a mixer most of that subtlety has gone. I really like Krupnik (honey and spice flavoured vodka) and żubrówka (bison grass) but they're Polish rather than Russian. I also think that vodka is best drunk very cold, neat, in shots, and in good company - which doesn't make it a drink to read with.
Professionally speaking I'm never going to try and stop anyone spending £40 on a premium brand, but I think it's unnecessary, especially if you're mixing it. I prefer the mid price brands - nothing below 40% abv, good enough quality to drink neat, not lost in a cocktail.
Kümmel on the other hand also has a proud Russian history - it's more or less a sweetened flavoured vodka, with caraway as the main flavouring. It certainly was popular in Russia (Difford's guide has a legend about Peter the Great discovering it whilst undercover in a Dutch shipyard, I have no idea if that's a true story or not), and I imagine it probably still is. I'm not much of a fan of anything aniseed flavoured - this is as close as I'm happy with, but I do like Kümmel - the rest of my family do not, so it's clearly not for everybody.
You can drink it on its own - it's still quite popular with shooting parties, and apparently in golf clubs, it also goes into some classic cocktails, the Quelle Vie (2/3rds Brandy, 1/3rd Kümmel) stirred over ice and strained, or a Silver Bullet (1/2 gin, 1/4 lemon juice, 1/4 Kümmel) or a Silver Streak (equal parts Kümmel and gin) are good places to start. The Quelle Vie is surprisingly good and seems a neat phrase to sum up Teffi's life with.
This collection of short stories and essays feel like memoir, though I think they're more fictional than accurately biographical - not that it much matters, some characters are to big to be confined by fact, and Teffi certainly seems like such a one. There's a particularly good story in here about a young woman struggling with some of the frustrations of motherhood all centred around a Christmas tree decoration, and another about a young girl at her first Christmas ball that give the book a vaguely seasonal edge if you're looking for it, but as it also covers experiences from a long, varied, and eventful life, there's something for every season.
At some point I suppose I'll have to get to grips with vodka, but it's not a spirit I have much of an opinion about. If you taste them side by side (taste not drink) you can tell the difference between those made from potato, rye, wheat, apple, grape or whatever else someone has decided will make a particularly arresting unique selling point. Once you add a mixer most of that subtlety has gone. I really like Krupnik (honey and spice flavoured vodka) and żubrówka (bison grass) but they're Polish rather than Russian. I also think that vodka is best drunk very cold, neat, in shots, and in good company - which doesn't make it a drink to read with.
Professionally speaking I'm never going to try and stop anyone spending £40 on a premium brand, but I think it's unnecessary, especially if you're mixing it. I prefer the mid price brands - nothing below 40% abv, good enough quality to drink neat, not lost in a cocktail.
Kümmel on the other hand also has a proud Russian history - it's more or less a sweetened flavoured vodka, with caraway as the main flavouring. It certainly was popular in Russia (Difford's guide has a legend about Peter the Great discovering it whilst undercover in a Dutch shipyard, I have no idea if that's a true story or not), and I imagine it probably still is. I'm not much of a fan of anything aniseed flavoured - this is as close as I'm happy with, but I do like Kümmel - the rest of my family do not, so it's clearly not for everybody.
You can drink it on its own - it's still quite popular with shooting parties, and apparently in golf clubs, it also goes into some classic cocktails, the Quelle Vie (2/3rds Brandy, 1/3rd Kümmel) stirred over ice and strained, or a Silver Bullet (1/2 gin, 1/4 lemon juice, 1/4 Kümmel) or a Silver Streak (equal parts Kümmel and gin) are good places to start. The Quelle Vie is surprisingly good and seems a neat phrase to sum up Teffi's life with.
Thursday, December 20, 2018
'and I quote' with a Brandy Cocktail
Bookish twitter seems to be divided between people who are doing their top ten books of the year lists, and people who are worried they may miss something amazing that they read in the next ten days. I find I have neither the time or concentration to read properly in December, something I'm rather sadly reminded of looking at Elizabeth Knowles 'and I quote... a history of using other people's words' which I had every good intention of reading before now.
I've dipped in and out of it enough to know that it's a treat to look forward to in the new year though. Elizabeth Knowles has edited four editions of the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, and was a lexicographer on the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary along with a list of other editorial credits which make her particularly qualified to write this book about how quotations are used and evolve. It's a subject that fascinates me, and I've read enough to know this book is scholarly without being overly dry.
I found the brandy cocktail (that I'm drinking as I write about the book I'd like to drink it with) in Jerry Thomas (How to Mix Drinks or The Bon Vivant's Companion, first published 1862) looking for a pairing to go with something else.
The Brandy Cocktail read like a version of an Old Fashioned, but from a time when it was still just a cocktail rather than an old fashioned cocktail, and a time when cocktails seem to have been defined by the use of bitters.
The way a family of drinks like this evolve and reference each other seems particularly appropriate for a book about quotations, and even more so because I've messed around with this one a bit myself. The recipe in Jerry Thomas calls for a small bar glass (which I take to mean a tumbler, or what we'd now think of as an old fashioned glass). You want 3 or 4 dashes of gomme syrup, two or 3 dashes of bitters, one wineglass of brandy, and one or two dashes of curaçao. Squeeze lemon peel; fill one third full of ice, and stir with a spoon.
To make a Fancy Brandy Cocktail he says "This drink is made the same as the Brandy Cocktail, except that it is strained into a fancy wine glass, and a piece of lemon peel thrown on top, and the edge moistened with lemon." I'm not convinced the Jerry Thomas thought much of Fancy.
I have some Jerry Thomas recipe bitters, but I also have some newly acquired Fee brother Aztec Chocolate bitters, and this seemed like a good time to use them (it was). You want to mix all the other ingredients before adding the ice (I tried them over ice to make sure), I don't think you necessarily need the sugar syrup - the Curaçao adds enough sweetness for me, but you might feel otherwise, and I think I prefer orange peel to lemon, especially with the chocolate bitters, because it builds better on the orange flavours in the Curaçao.
Angostura bitters would be fine too, and be warned, once you start collecting bitters it seems it's hard to stop. They really are a great way to give a bit of variety to old standards, as well as being absolutely integral to the early cocktails and a good few of the classics.
The Aztec chocolate bitters have a spicy cocoa edge (a little like Green and Black's Maya Gold chocolate) that works well with brandy. It gives the drink a pleasantly festive edge without being over the top. I'm going to try it with the cranberry bitters I have in much the same spirit at some point. I'm not sure what size of wine glass Jerry Thomas used - I hope a small one - I found a scant measure quite sufficient for my purposes. Make sure to stir everything well mix the flavours and you've got a thoroughly satisfactory drink.
I've dipped in and out of it enough to know that it's a treat to look forward to in the new year though. Elizabeth Knowles has edited four editions of the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, and was a lexicographer on the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary along with a list of other editorial credits which make her particularly qualified to write this book about how quotations are used and evolve. It's a subject that fascinates me, and I've read enough to know this book is scholarly without being overly dry.
I found the brandy cocktail (that I'm drinking as I write about the book I'd like to drink it with) in Jerry Thomas (How to Mix Drinks or The Bon Vivant's Companion, first published 1862) looking for a pairing to go with something else.
The Brandy Cocktail read like a version of an Old Fashioned, but from a time when it was still just a cocktail rather than an old fashioned cocktail, and a time when cocktails seem to have been defined by the use of bitters.
The way a family of drinks like this evolve and reference each other seems particularly appropriate for a book about quotations, and even more so because I've messed around with this one a bit myself. The recipe in Jerry Thomas calls for a small bar glass (which I take to mean a tumbler, or what we'd now think of as an old fashioned glass). You want 3 or 4 dashes of gomme syrup, two or 3 dashes of bitters, one wineglass of brandy, and one or two dashes of curaçao. Squeeze lemon peel; fill one third full of ice, and stir with a spoon.
To make a Fancy Brandy Cocktail he says "This drink is made the same as the Brandy Cocktail, except that it is strained into a fancy wine glass, and a piece of lemon peel thrown on top, and the edge moistened with lemon." I'm not convinced the Jerry Thomas thought much of Fancy.
I have some Jerry Thomas recipe bitters, but I also have some newly acquired Fee brother Aztec Chocolate bitters, and this seemed like a good time to use them (it was). You want to mix all the other ingredients before adding the ice (I tried them over ice to make sure), I don't think you necessarily need the sugar syrup - the Curaçao adds enough sweetness for me, but you might feel otherwise, and I think I prefer orange peel to lemon, especially with the chocolate bitters, because it builds better on the orange flavours in the Curaçao.
Angostura bitters would be fine too, and be warned, once you start collecting bitters it seems it's hard to stop. They really are a great way to give a bit of variety to old standards, as well as being absolutely integral to the early cocktails and a good few of the classics.
The Aztec chocolate bitters have a spicy cocoa edge (a little like Green and Black's Maya Gold chocolate) that works well with brandy. It gives the drink a pleasantly festive edge without being over the top. I'm going to try it with the cranberry bitters I have in much the same spirit at some point. I'm not sure what size of wine glass Jerry Thomas used - I hope a small one - I found a scant measure quite sufficient for my purposes. Make sure to stir everything well mix the flavours and you've got a thoroughly satisfactory drink.
Wednesday, December 19, 2018
The Valley at the Centre of the World with a Famous Grouse
There are so many things that I loved about this book that I couldn't miss it out of this series of books and booze, but it's been by far the hardest to think of a match for. That's partly because one character is an alcoholic, and it always feels questionable to be recommending a drink if that's part of the context. It's also because whilst drinking is part of Shetland culture, pubs are not.
There are now a couple of breweries and a gin distillery, but the transport cost means the (very good) beers aren't especially easy to find outside of the islands (and definitely not this far south). One of the discount supermarkets (I can never remember which is which) was selling one of the Shetland Reel gins at a very good price, if you see it, buy it, it's an excellent gin, but it doesn't really capture the spirit of the book.
Malachy Tallack's characters drink all sorts of things throughout the book - tea especially, and that's possibly the drink I associate most with the Shetland that he's describing. They also drink all the other things ordinary people drink in the general way of things. If I think of what David, the older male character, or Maggie, the woman who's death opens the book would drink though the answer is probably McEwans Export (or Tennent's - both McEwan's and Tennent's cans were ubiquitous in every roadside ditch when I was a child) for David, and a whisky like The Famous Grouse or Bell's served in a thimble sized shot glass, possibly with a kilted bag pipe player, or sprig of Heather on it for either of them.
It's easy to be dismissive of blends like this these days, they're not especially fashionable, and somewhat looked down upon by a certain sort of whisky drinker - although they sell as well as ever. My preference is for Grouse, partly because I like the label, and love their adverts. Mostly because their blend has a good bit of Highland Park and the Macallan in it, both of which I'm especially fond of. It doesn't hurt that it comes with a bit of nostalgia for some sadly departed friends.
I'll admit I generally only have single malt in the house, and just as happily admit that sometimes that's a nuisance. I don't mind bathing my Christmas cake in Old Pultney, it's a once a year deal so it can drink whatever I'm having, but it's not really what I want to use for hot toddy's or whisky and ginger. Both of which are winter favourites, neither of which especially want the whisky to take over the mixer as say a Talisker or Lagavullin might. Nor do I want the particular subtleties of a precious bottle of whatever it might be drowned out by ginger, or honey and lemon.
The difference between blends and single malts isn't particularly one of quality. Until relatively recently you bought a blend precisely because it did guarantee quality and reliability. The grain element (which is cheaper to produce than the malt part because it's continuously distilled rather than pot stilled) forms a relatively light, smooth, background for the rest of the blend. Once you've found your preferred brand you should have something with a character you like, that balances nicely with your mixer of choice.
Something like proper thoughts about The Valley at the Centre of the World are Here. It has a lot to say about island living, tradition, people, love, and life generally and is absolutely worth having a look at.
There are now a couple of breweries and a gin distillery, but the transport cost means the (very good) beers aren't especially easy to find outside of the islands (and definitely not this far south). One of the discount supermarkets (I can never remember which is which) was selling one of the Shetland Reel gins at a very good price, if you see it, buy it, it's an excellent gin, but it doesn't really capture the spirit of the book.
Malachy Tallack's characters drink all sorts of things throughout the book - tea especially, and that's possibly the drink I associate most with the Shetland that he's describing. They also drink all the other things ordinary people drink in the general way of things. If I think of what David, the older male character, or Maggie, the woman who's death opens the book would drink though the answer is probably McEwans Export (or Tennent's - both McEwan's and Tennent's cans were ubiquitous in every roadside ditch when I was a child) for David, and a whisky like The Famous Grouse or Bell's served in a thimble sized shot glass, possibly with a kilted bag pipe player, or sprig of Heather on it for either of them.
It's easy to be dismissive of blends like this these days, they're not especially fashionable, and somewhat looked down upon by a certain sort of whisky drinker - although they sell as well as ever. My preference is for Grouse, partly because I like the label, and love their adverts. Mostly because their blend has a good bit of Highland Park and the Macallan in it, both of which I'm especially fond of. It doesn't hurt that it comes with a bit of nostalgia for some sadly departed friends.
I'll admit I generally only have single malt in the house, and just as happily admit that sometimes that's a nuisance. I don't mind bathing my Christmas cake in Old Pultney, it's a once a year deal so it can drink whatever I'm having, but it's not really what I want to use for hot toddy's or whisky and ginger. Both of which are winter favourites, neither of which especially want the whisky to take over the mixer as say a Talisker or Lagavullin might. Nor do I want the particular subtleties of a precious bottle of whatever it might be drowned out by ginger, or honey and lemon.
The difference between blends and single malts isn't particularly one of quality. Until relatively recently you bought a blend precisely because it did guarantee quality and reliability. The grain element (which is cheaper to produce than the malt part because it's continuously distilled rather than pot stilled) forms a relatively light, smooth, background for the rest of the blend. Once you've found your preferred brand you should have something with a character you like, that balances nicely with your mixer of choice.
Something like proper thoughts about The Valley at the Centre of the World are Here. It has a lot to say about island living, tradition, people, love, and life generally and is absolutely worth having a look at.
Tuesday, December 18, 2018
Georgette Heyer's Footsteps in the Dark with a Dolly O'Dare cocktail
It's not been an especially good day, not least because I got soaked going both to and from work - always a treat. It's a filthy night out there, heavy rain accompanied by a wind strong enough to take out an umbrella and make sure you get evenly drenched.
On the upside I'm home now and as soon as I've written this post it's a hot bath then bed, I also replenished stocks of French (dry) vermouth so whilst I write I've got the company of a Dolly O'Dare. There may be more than the usual number of typos and spelling issues.
I notice that Georgette Heyer's 'Footsteps in the Dark' has had the Christmas treatment this year, appearing in a smart new hardback edition. I wonder if the whole series of her detective fiction is going to get rolled out in this way (which would be nice) because there's nothing particularly festive about this book - or at least it's not obviously set at Christmas. On the other hand it's a country house mystery with rumours of a haunting, not at all taxing, and like all Heyer, solid fun.
I think books like this deserve vintage cocktails - something that adds to the atmosphere of the thing without being to much of a performance to make. I saw the Dolly O'Dare when I was looking for apricot brandy ideas, but lacked the correct vermouth at the weekend.
A dry vermouth is a handy thing to have around - not just for drinks, but also for cooking with. Throw a bit at chicken or pork, or in moderation with white fish, it won't let you down, and it all helps use it up because it doesn't keep indefinitely once it's open (aim to get through the bottle within a month, and be sure to keep it in the fridge once open).
The Dolly O'Dare is half and half French vermouth and gin with '6 dashes' of apricot brandy, shaken well over ice, strained into a glass and garnished with a piece of orange peel that you squeeze over it.
I make my cocktails on the small side, so I'd say enough apricot brandy so that you can just taste it, but it doesn't dominate - to get the right balance for you might take some experimentation (It's easier to add than take away!). I also think you can do perfectly well without the orange peel which I think tips the balance to far towards sweet.
Otherwise you have a perfectly respectable, if quite wet, martini with a frivolous dash of fruit. Heyer herself probably wouldn't have cared for the apricot element, but I think some of her characters in here would rather have liked it. I certainly did.
On the upside I'm home now and as soon as I've written this post it's a hot bath then bed, I also replenished stocks of French (dry) vermouth so whilst I write I've got the company of a Dolly O'Dare. There may be more than the usual number of typos and spelling issues.
I notice that Georgette Heyer's 'Footsteps in the Dark' has had the Christmas treatment this year, appearing in a smart new hardback edition. I wonder if the whole series of her detective fiction is going to get rolled out in this way (which would be nice) because there's nothing particularly festive about this book - or at least it's not obviously set at Christmas. On the other hand it's a country house mystery with rumours of a haunting, not at all taxing, and like all Heyer, solid fun.
I think books like this deserve vintage cocktails - something that adds to the atmosphere of the thing without being to much of a performance to make. I saw the Dolly O'Dare when I was looking for apricot brandy ideas, but lacked the correct vermouth at the weekend.
A dry vermouth is a handy thing to have around - not just for drinks, but also for cooking with. Throw a bit at chicken or pork, or in moderation with white fish, it won't let you down, and it all helps use it up because it doesn't keep indefinitely once it's open (aim to get through the bottle within a month, and be sure to keep it in the fridge once open).
The Dolly O'Dare is half and half French vermouth and gin with '6 dashes' of apricot brandy, shaken well over ice, strained into a glass and garnished with a piece of orange peel that you squeeze over it.
I make my cocktails on the small side, so I'd say enough apricot brandy so that you can just taste it, but it doesn't dominate - to get the right balance for you might take some experimentation (It's easier to add than take away!). I also think you can do perfectly well without the orange peel which I think tips the balance to far towards sweet.
Otherwise you have a perfectly respectable, if quite wet, martini with a frivolous dash of fruit. Heyer herself probably wouldn't have cared for the apricot element, but I think some of her characters in here would rather have liked it. I certainly did.
Monday, December 17, 2018
The Odyssey and Greek Wine
Another book high on my wish list for Christmas is Emily Wilson's translation of 'The Odyssey'. I have vivid memories of reading a Penguin Classics edition in Amsterdam when I was 17, but not such vivid memories of the details of the story, so I might have to reread that copy too.
I do remember it being a great story though, and I'm really interested to see what Emily Wilson brings to it. If I don't find it under the tree I've been given a book voucher (it's been a while since anybody did that and I'm so excited by it) and it'll be the first post Christmas purchase I make.
A good bottle of something Greek is the obvious choice here, although unfortunately the great British public have been resistant to Greek wines.
My first job in wine was with Oddbins at the turn of the century. The story of Oddbins and Australian wine was the stuff of company legend - briefly a very junior buyer had been sent to Australia sometime in the 80's (memory is hazy). At the time the UK was more or less oblivious to Australian wine, we imported some, but not a lot. This guy fell in love with everything, bought a lot of it, and we all agreed with him. Someone came back from Greece hoping to pull off the same trick, but it didn't work out.
It was a real shame because the wines were excellent- great flavour, interesting grapes that added something to the palate of available flavours, very high quality - the whole package. Unfortunately people couldn't seem to get past the idea of retsina and cheap holiday wine for a couple of Euros a bottle. They wouldn't pay for the good stuff.
There are a few good Greek wines to be had (Waitrose does an organic cabernet sauvignon that I really like for about £10, it's well worth trying) but they're few and far between. Something that is widely available though is Mavrodaphne of Patras - a sweet, fortified, red that's also worth a look.
It's relatively cheap - well under £10, and not a bad substitute for port. It works well with chocolate desserts and cake, and should get on well with all the Christmas dried fruit. As is probably very clear by now I'm a fan of sweet wine on it's own too - a small glass is an excellent alternative to a pudding. I also think that this sweeter wine is closer in spirit to the sort of thing that Homer might actually have drunk when wine was regularly sweetened and flavoured to improve it.
I do remember it being a great story though, and I'm really interested to see what Emily Wilson brings to it. If I don't find it under the tree I've been given a book voucher (it's been a while since anybody did that and I'm so excited by it) and it'll be the first post Christmas purchase I make.
A good bottle of something Greek is the obvious choice here, although unfortunately the great British public have been resistant to Greek wines.
My first job in wine was with Oddbins at the turn of the century. The story of Oddbins and Australian wine was the stuff of company legend - briefly a very junior buyer had been sent to Australia sometime in the 80's (memory is hazy). At the time the UK was more or less oblivious to Australian wine, we imported some, but not a lot. This guy fell in love with everything, bought a lot of it, and we all agreed with him. Someone came back from Greece hoping to pull off the same trick, but it didn't work out.
It was a real shame because the wines were excellent- great flavour, interesting grapes that added something to the palate of available flavours, very high quality - the whole package. Unfortunately people couldn't seem to get past the idea of retsina and cheap holiday wine for a couple of Euros a bottle. They wouldn't pay for the good stuff.
There are a few good Greek wines to be had (Waitrose does an organic cabernet sauvignon that I really like for about £10, it's well worth trying) but they're few and far between. Something that is widely available though is Mavrodaphne of Patras - a sweet, fortified, red that's also worth a look.
It's relatively cheap - well under £10, and not a bad substitute for port. It works well with chocolate desserts and cake, and should get on well with all the Christmas dried fruit. As is probably very clear by now I'm a fan of sweet wine on it's own too - a small glass is an excellent alternative to a pudding. I also think that this sweeter wine is closer in spirit to the sort of thing that Homer might actually have drunk when wine was regularly sweetened and flavoured to improve it.
Sunday, December 16, 2018
Shelf Life with a Malmsey Madeira
Alex Johnson's 'Shelf Life' is a delight, a collection of short pieces about books and reading by a range of writers and notable figures. It's funny, thoughtful, and would make a perfect little gift for anybody who likes reading about books.
It has the feel of something intended mostly for gift giving, or to be the sort of book you would find in a bibliophiles bathroom - but it's much better than that might suggest - I'd treasure it for William Blades opinion on should children be allowed near your shelves; 'The Enemies of Books', and his horrid vision of precious first editions launched as missiles. It's a hard no from William Blades.
The thing about books like these is that so often after one reading the charm wears thin, but Johnson has unearthed things that don't lose their charm through repeated contact which makes it a total winner in my view.
I feel the same about Madeira. If ever there was a wine for which you could claim age does not wither it, nor custom stale it's infinite variety - to sort of quote Shakespeare - I'd say it was this one. Especially on the age front. I was told as a young wine merchant that it wasn't worth drinking Madeira less than 15 years old. It's a sentiment that a broadly agree with, I'd only really use younger Madeira to cook with - but I know I like it, so I'm happy to make the investment in an older bottle. I did take my time to work up to those though, and taste is very much a personal matter and others may well enjoy younger Madeira more than older bottles.
The great thing about this wine is the unique way in which it's made (it's both heated and oxidised, two things you normally try to avoid at all costs) which means it's almost indestructible in the bottle, something that you can keep open for years rather than weeks. I always have a bottle for cooking with, it does great things for a gravy for a start, I've been splashing some over pheasant all this winter too (if that sounds decadent, a free range, well fed, fat free pheasant, that will comfortably feed 3 costs £3.99, or a brace for £7, on the market at the moment) and very nice it's been.
Malmsey is the sweetest, richest, style of Madeira and my favourite. Because of its complexity it's not a sugary sweetness (think of nuts, dried fruit, coffee, and dark brown sugar flavours) and I find it the most versatile in the kitchen, as well - good not just with those pheasants, but with sweeter things too.
A small glass to finish a meal, either with cheese, or perhaps something with dark chocolate, or a sticky toffee pudding is great. Mostly I'd drink it in it's own though, or as a reading wine - a comfortable, interesting, companion to bring out on a cold wet night when it's an absolute pleasure to be at home with a good book and a good wine.
It has the feel of something intended mostly for gift giving, or to be the sort of book you would find in a bibliophiles bathroom - but it's much better than that might suggest - I'd treasure it for William Blades opinion on should children be allowed near your shelves; 'The Enemies of Books', and his horrid vision of precious first editions launched as missiles. It's a hard no from William Blades.
The thing about books like these is that so often after one reading the charm wears thin, but Johnson has unearthed things that don't lose their charm through repeated contact which makes it a total winner in my view.
I feel the same about Madeira. If ever there was a wine for which you could claim age does not wither it, nor custom stale it's infinite variety - to sort of quote Shakespeare - I'd say it was this one. Especially on the age front. I was told as a young wine merchant that it wasn't worth drinking Madeira less than 15 years old. It's a sentiment that a broadly agree with, I'd only really use younger Madeira to cook with - but I know I like it, so I'm happy to make the investment in an older bottle. I did take my time to work up to those though, and taste is very much a personal matter and others may well enjoy younger Madeira more than older bottles.
The great thing about this wine is the unique way in which it's made (it's both heated and oxidised, two things you normally try to avoid at all costs) which means it's almost indestructible in the bottle, something that you can keep open for years rather than weeks. I always have a bottle for cooking with, it does great things for a gravy for a start, I've been splashing some over pheasant all this winter too (if that sounds decadent, a free range, well fed, fat free pheasant, that will comfortably feed 3 costs £3.99, or a brace for £7, on the market at the moment) and very nice it's been.
Malmsey is the sweetest, richest, style of Madeira and my favourite. Because of its complexity it's not a sugary sweetness (think of nuts, dried fruit, coffee, and dark brown sugar flavours) and I find it the most versatile in the kitchen, as well - good not just with those pheasants, but with sweeter things too.
A small glass to finish a meal, either with cheese, or perhaps something with dark chocolate, or a sticky toffee pudding is great. Mostly I'd drink it in it's own though, or as a reading wine - a comfortable, interesting, companion to bring out on a cold wet night when it's an absolute pleasure to be at home with a good book and a good wine.
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