#40. Paradise Cocktail

I had to go back and listen to the podcast to remember what this drink was. I remembered that it involved gin, and I remembered squeezing the juice out of an orange, but couldn't remember what it was called.

Pretty good, though. I remembered that it was pretty good. Equal parts gin, apricot brandy, and orange juice. I probably overdid it a little on the orange juice--i just juiced an orange and that's the amount we used. It was nice, though. Orange and gin is becoming one of my favorite combinations, and the apricot brandy is a pleasant additional sweetener.

So basically, sure. I'd drink it again. Why not? "Paradise" might be overselling it a bit, though, but hey. Hugo had to move a lot of drinks. You can't blame him for a little hyperbole.

#38. B. V. D. Cocktail

This one is out of sequence because I forgot about it. It is worth forgetting. It is terrible.

Equal parts French vermouth, gin, and rum. What? It's dreadful. It doesn't sound like a good idea, and it isn't a good idea, and you ought not drink it.

#32. Appetizer No. IV

Another Dubonnet appetizer: 1:1 gin and Dubonnet with a dash of absinthe.

Pretty nice! I am amazed every time by how far a dash of absinthe goes. It's a lovely addition to the already tasty Appetizer No. 1, giving it just a slight licorice edge. The Jackson is probably the nicest of the gin and Dubonnet cocktails sampled so far, but No. IV is a close second. Recommended.

Not listed by Difford's, but then, he's light on absinthe cocktails in general. Ask for this one around town! Bring back the Appetizer No. IV!

#27. Golden Bronx Cocktail

Ah, yes. Some more egg, please.

We drank this one purely in the name of efficiency. The Bronx, you may remember, was 2:1:1 gin, sweet vermouth, and dry vermouth, with orange juice. The Golden Bronx is the same, plus an EGG YOLK. I can only assume that this was someone's idea of breakfast, or a health tonic, or a masochistic trick. It certainly couldn't have been because someone had a Bronx, which is a pretty reasonable drink, and then decided that it needed an egg yolk for that extra something special.

We only made it because we had an egg yolk left over from the Beauty Spot. And so that we could cross it off the list.

I don't remember enjoying this all that much. Mostly, I just remember thinking over and over again about how I was drinking an egg yolk. I see no reason to try this again.

#26. Beauty Spot

Two-thirds gin to one-third grenadine. Oh, and an egg white.

I believe this drink was the beginning of my downfall, but I'm well on the way to recovery so I forgive you, Beauty Spot. That is an absolute huge amount of grenadine. I've been making my own with straight sugar and either pomegranate juice or pomegranate and cherry, and I'm pretty sure I use slightly less sugar than generally recommended. But even that way, a 2:1 ratio of booze to syrup is a sweet mess.

And the egg, yes. The egg white. On the one hand, it adds some nice froth. On the other hand, that's a lot of egg. With no soda water or anything to cut things a little, it starts to feel like an awful lot of egg. Or maybe that's purely psychological? And I'm just not over thinking that drinking raw egg is a strange thing to do? Not that strange a thought, considering that there is no question but that drinking raw egg is kind of an odd thing to do.

Not a terrible drink, mostly because it's too sweet and nothing that's too sweet can be all that bad. But, pretty unlikely to be a part of my regular repertoire.

#24. Mint Mash

This is just a name variant on the old, familiar Mint Julep. It's pretty tasty. Sugar, mint, booze (Ensslin says rye, bourbon, or gin) topped with fizzy water.

We did bourbon and gin both (No, not at the same time. Gross.) The bourbon was a little better, I think. The bourbon taste came through in a strong but not overpowering way. Gin, I found, faded into the background to such and extent that you could barely remember that it was still around. The gin Mint Mash was downright watery tasting, compared to its tastier, bourbon cousin.

Neither was as good as a mojito, though. Needs that lime, is the thing. Lime is an important ingredient, and one we'd best not forget about. It gives things a nice lime taste, lime does.

To be fair, there are those who insist on all sorts of other rules where mint and juleps are concerned. I've read various arguments about infusing syrup with mint, muddling mint with straight sugar, frosting a silver cup, etc. etc. So maybe I did it wrong and was totally missing out. Still pretty good though.

#21. Gin Buck

Wow. We really hit a lot of these. Gin buck is the same as a London buck, only the gin buck is lime, ginger ale, and gin, not lemon.

It's great, obviously. Lots of lime and ginger ale. That would make anything taste great. I scarcely needed to actually make it to know it was great. I almost could have just thought about it, long and hard, and imagined it. But I made some anyway, in the interest of SCIENCE.

#18. Dixie Cocktail

This falls into the Canadian cocktail category--that grouping of drinks with totally inexplicable names. Gin, dry vermouth, absinthe (2:1:1), a quarter orange, a dash of grenadine.

Opinions were mixed. GG will barely bring herself to taste anything with any absinthe, and this has a strong absinthe scent. (A little absinthe goes a long way, which, frankly, is part of what I like so much about it. It's fantastic as a flavoring agent in small quantities.) Another sampler said, I believe, that it was the worst thing ever, but all my friends who've tried a few of the earlier concoctions were perfectly happy with this one.

The taste is mostly absinthe and orange, with some grenadine sweetness. The gin and dry vermouth get pushed to the side.

This is complicated, with big, competing tastes, but it's also pretty nice. Reminds me of some discussions of licorice with a British coworker. In this country, we eat hardly any licorice, and when we do, we eat it straight, and prefer it rubbery. In Britain, they mix licorice with Everything, and it's awesome. I would eat orange licorice by the handful if anyone wanted to sell it to me. It works just fine, unless you are an absinthe hater. And who wants to be an absinthe hater? If it was good enough for Van Gogh, it's plenty good for me.

Closest I can find to this one in Difford's is a Maurice Martini, which includes sweet vermouth but no grenadine. Similar, and different. I probably like this one, with the grenadine, better, but maybe I'll try a Maurice sometime.

#16. Gin Cocktail

So- the recipes available to me have increased substantially, due to the addition of orange bitters to my liquor cabinet. Thanks, Martin Wine Cellar! That's a pretty good store. I wasn't paying that much attention to the wine, which of course the place is named after. But, they had a pretty great selection of spirits, too, so anything that Rouse's can't provide me I can probably get there, unless I can't get it anywhere. That is also a thing that will happen.

This gin cocktail barely has enough stuff in it to call it a cocktail. It's just gin plus orange bitters, with a twist of lemon.

But, it does prove that my vermouth-drinking skills are terribly weak, since I probably liked drinking this more than almost any of the previous entries that included vermouth. I'd still prefer a gin & tonic to this gin cocktail, and I'd have enjoyed this more in a better chilled glass or (blasphemy!) with a piece of ice. But, i found it quite tolerable. The bitters and lemon peel, I think, were just enough of a distraction from the gin to keep this from feeling too strong. It's pretty strong, obviously- it's essentially pure gin, plus a few drops of flavoring, plus the trivial amount of water that melted during the stirring.

Not bad, though. Not bad.

#15. Snyder Cocktail

Ah, Snyder. Ol' Snyder liked his martini in a highball glass, with a little curacao and orange peel. That's what this is, really- a relatively dry martini, sweetened with curacao, garnished with orange peel. Two thirds gin, one third dry vermouth, two dashes curacao, and orange peel.

It's not terrible. The curacao and orange peel make this more interesting than it would be otherwise. I like the subtle citrus, but still get a strong vermouth aftertaste. Maybe if I drink enough of it, I'll start enjoying vermouth? Here's hoping! Otherwise, this is going to be a real slog.

Difford's calls this a Snyder martini, and uses Grand Marnier instead of curacao. But I'm with Ensslin on this one, if only because Grand Marnier is expensive (Seriously Expensive) and curacao is basically free. At least, the horrible blue stuff that I got was super cheap. I wish it weren't blue, though. It makes everything look like Kool-Aid.

#13.1: Best Homemade copycat of Orange Blossom

The Best Homemade is just an Orange Blossom with a little less gin. It's the same thing. The best homemade, though, is the better of the two, as it keeps the gin:orange juice at a more reasonable level.

Someone should've told Ensslin that he didn't need to pad out his book. He's got some good recipes. Why reprint these duplicates? Guy needs an editor.

#14. Bronx Cocktail

I must say- the Bronx is the best of the vermouth-heavy numbers so far. Half gin, plus a quarter each of sweet and dry vermouth, plus a quarter of an orange. The orange mixes nicer than the lime in this case and gives this one a nice citrus smoothness. Reminds me more of the Dubonnet drinks than the vermouth-heavy entries. Not too shabby.

Soon, though, I'll have to make a Noon Cocktail, which is just this plus an egg white. Madness! Ensslin and his eggs. People used to put eggs in everything, if Ensslin is to be believed.

To summarize: best of the vermouth-based drinks so far, not that that's saying that much. But, it is saying something.

Difford's includes the exact same recipe with the same name, which is a bit of a rarity. Most of these recipes have endured some changes over the years in either name or content, but this one is a rock. Difford claims this was the first cocktail to use fruit juice, but really, that's the sort of thing I'm confident is utterly unverifiable.

#13. Orange Blossom Cocktail

I don't know about some of these 1916 proportions. Ensslin calls for a "drink" of gin and the juice of half an orange. A "drink" is a vague measure that is more than a jigger, but I'm not exactly clear how much more. A note from Wondrich's introduction says that a whiskey glass was four ounces for Ensslin, so that's likely how much a "drink" ought to be.

I like drinking gin, but if you can handle four ounces of gin, with nothing but a splash of orange juice, in a glass desperate to warm up to room temperature, then you like gin quite a bit more than I.

Knowing my limits, I went with two ounces of gin rather than four. This is not a bad cocktail. The orange flavor is strong, but the fresh orange juice is lighter and blends better than I expect an equivalent amount of supermarket OJ would. I don't know about you, but I don't love orange juice as a mixer. It always tastes like breakfast to me, no matter when I drink it, so, for instance, vodka and orange juice makes me feel a bit like a hardened alcoholic waking up for a drink, which is a feeling I don't particularly enjoy.

But, I would still rather take my gin with a little tonic and lime. The lime, even though usually in a much smaller dose than the orange juice in this cocktail, takes more of the edge of the gin. This is a good pairing, but not quite good enough to make it into my regular rotation.

Difford's recipe is more complicated. It seems that over time, the orange blossom collected some grenadine and lime juice. I think I'd prefer the modern version.

#10. Bill Lyken's Delight

I had high hopes for this drink. Or, at least, I hoped it wouldn't be terrible, but it kind of was. Equal parts dry gin and dry vermouth, topped with 4 dashes curacao, shaken with lemon and orange rind, served with a cherry.

The blue curacao left the drink an unpleasant blue-green that made it look like it was going to taste horrible. Its actual taste didn't do much to change anyone's opinion. The dry vermouth taste dominates, with only the slightest citrus character as competition. I don't know what the point of the cherry was at all.

I wanted the curacao to do something more interesting than it did. I probably used more than strictly necessary--the dashes turned into perhaps a half ounce, in a drink split three ways. But, the main factor here is the dry vermouth. If you don't like it, you won't like this drink.

We talked this one through a bit as we endured it. To the modern palate, it's odd to have so many drinks that don't involve any mixers but rather just booze. GG noted the Delight's odd combination--it tastes both too hot and too sweet. "Hot" meaning that the taste and feel of the alcohol is quite pronounced. Usually, sweetness covers up heat and makes a drink taste "weaker" than it actually is. In this case, the cocktail managed to taste too strongly of alcohol while remaining cloyingly sweet. This apparently delighted Bill Lyken, but Bill must have had bad taste in drinks. I never need to drink one of these again.

Closest corollary in Difford's guide would be the Snyder martini, which is the same basic mix

minus the rinds. I'm going to assume that it isn't terribly good either.

#7. Submarine Cocktail

The Submarine is 1:1:2 sweet vermouth, gin, and Dubonnet. The higher proportion of Dubonnet gives this a nice sweetness and beautiful cranberry color. Tonight was quite productive in terms of drink sampling, so I can't remember if I liked this more or less than the 1:1 Dubonnet and gin. I'm going to call it a wash.

Difford doesn't have anything that matches up to this one, but that could just be because it's so similar in character to the other Dubonnet and gin drinks he does describe.

#6. Appetizer No. 1 / Dubonnet Cocktail

Wikipedia tells me that the Queen enjoys herself a spot of Dubonnet and gin before lunch. This amuses me so I choose to believe that it is true.

I include these two cocktails together because they're the same thing. Ensslin calls for more booze in the Dubonnet cocktail, but the ratio is the same. Hence, it's the same thing, and I'm not going to check and see if there's any extra nuance if I drink this drink in separate amounts. (Also, for all of today's entries, I had help, meaning that we made a few of these at once and all tasted, with results that were, at best, mixed.)

This was one of the better entries of the night, though. Dubonnet is similar to sweet vermouth, which I prefer to dry considerably. The Dubonnet and gin feel like a nicer mix, though, and I found this combination more balanced than any of the gin and vermouth drinks sampled previously. I'd still rather drink gin and tonic, but this one has an understandable appeal.

Though not my favorite, the Dubonnet seems to me like a nice break from all the vermouth, and so I can imagine drinking another one of these in the future. Tonight basically killed my gin, though, so no more gin & Dubonnet until I restock.

Difford's has a Zaza cocktail, which is this recipe plus orange rind. Ensslin has this recipe too, though. I'll wait to cross off Zaza until later. I've got a good amount of Dubonnet left over, and the Zaza is sure to be equally easy to drink, so I'm in no hurry.

#4. Seventh Regiment Cocktail

I'll get some extra ingredients this week so I can branch out better, but for now I'm stuck with a lot of gin and vermouth concoctions that are all similar to each other and not super tasty.

This regiment prefers, apparently, a wet martini with lemon rind. Gin to sweet vermouth in a 3 to 2 ratio, and Ensslin calls for two pieces of lemon rind.

This gets into one of my only complaints about Ensslin's book--garnish. I assume that the lemon rind is garnish, as it doesn't make any sense to shake up a drink with lemon rind and then strain it. At least, I don't think it makes sense. Maybe that was Hugo's plan. In any case, his instructions can be more than a bit ambiguous.

This is not a particularly good drink. The sweet vermouth is way too strong and I feel like it overpowers the gin handily. I thought that the lime in the polo cocktail helped smooth things out considerably, but the lemon rind is barely a participant in this drink. It makes my martini glass prettier (this is a lovely looking drink, to be sure) I can barely detect citrus.

This is not a bad mix, to be fair, and I'm sure I'm enjoying it more than I would enjoy gin and dry vermouth in a similar ratio. But, It feels only tolerable. Were I not trying to work my way through this book, I would have much rather had a gin and tonic. The 7th regiment is the sort of simple drink that does not stand up against simpler drinks, and for that reason, is not one I'll be making again anytime soon. It's not bad, just not memorable. Mostly, I just want to know more about this seventh regiment. Seventh regiment of what? And why are they drinking so many martinis?

#3. Polo Cocktail

Because I'll have to build up my bar quite substantially to make it through the book, I'm hitting some of the simpler recipes first, which means a lot of gin and vermouth. The polo cocktail is exactly like the perfect cocktail, with the inclusion of the juice of half a lime.

The lime makes a surprising difference. The addition makes the whole thing pleasantly citrusy, like a slightly sour grapefruit. I also find myself thinking of a fruit salad mixed in lime juice. Sour, but also sweet and fruity. I think it's a big improvement over the poorly named perfect cocktail.

I do think this all might be proving my theory that I don't like vermouth, though. I'm not sure if I'm enjoying the combination of lime and vermouth, or if I just like the lime covering up the vermouth. Hard to say but there are plenty of vermouth-heavy recipes left to go, so I may find out yet.

Difford's includes nothing that comes any closer to this recipe than the martini perfect, which has orange bitters instead of lime. I'm going to assume that that's about the only remaining legacy of these two different 1916 equal-parts sweet vermouth, dry vermouth, and dry gin recipes. Probably because I'm not the only one who doesn't rank vermouth as a favorite spirit.

#2: London Buck

I wanted to reward myself for all the vermouth I drank yesterday by picking something that was sure to be delicious. Gin, lemon, ginger ale. I think the final proof that I don't have the most sophisticated palate is the simple fact that I would drink pretty much any gut rot available if there were ginger ale (or better yet: ginger beer) to mix with it. Ginger ale plus anything is great.

The London Buck was actually a little nicer than I anticipated. The lemon, rather than being a garnish, is a full participant in this--Ensslin calls for the juice of half a lemon. The London Buck has a strong lemon scent and aftertaste. At first I thought the gin was overpowered by the ginger ale but it works quite well. The ratio is a bit off, though, I think. Perhaps ice was expensive in 1916, so Ensslin calls for a single cube in a Collins glass. I think filling the glass with ice would be better, both because it would keep the ice from melting as fast, and increase the strength of the gin flavor. I'll try it that way next time.

Not sure if I committed a mortal sin or not, but I went ahead and shook the gin and lemon juice with some ice, then topped off with the ginger ale. The book doesn't say to, but as I was following instructions and only using a single ice cube, I thought it would be nice to chill the gin first. My ginger ale was in the fridge, but my gin was not. I think it worked fine.

Difford has this exact same recipe, only uses the shorter name "Buck." "London Buck" sounds better though. More classy.

Research notes: Gin vs. Gin

Ensslin was doubtless a fantastic barman, but his book opens the door for all manner of confusionism. There are slight errors throughout--the book is nominally in alphabetical order within each section, but there are plenty of failures to keep things in order.

There are also--and this is more of a problem--a number of cases in which the ingredients are less than strictly clear, because they are not labelled consistently. Gin, perhaps the most-used spirit in the book, is a particular bit of trickiness. We have references to gin, dry gin, Old Tom Gin, El Bart Gin, English gin, Holland gin, and possibly others I haven't spotted. So. What's it all mean?

Holland gin, at least, I assumed to be a separate spirit, which is correct. It is, by reputation, sweeter than the (here) more prevalent London dry. I hope I'll be able to find a bottle. Initially I assumed that both Old Tom and El Bart were particular makes that Ensslin wanted to suggest.

Old Tom, though, is a style of gin, not a particular product. It is sweeter than dry gin and but drier than Holland gin, and I suspect the most difficult to come by of the three. Difford's includes a small number of drinks that call for Old Tom gin, but Difford never does me the favor of specifying a brand of Old Tom that I might be able to buy. Of course, Difford is based in the UK so he probably has far more gin choices readily available than I.

This still doesn't account for all of Ensslin's notes, though. On page 16 is the Fifty-Fifty cocktail, half "dry gin" and half "French vermouth." (Ensslin uses "French" to designate dry vermouth.) On page 17 is the Gibson cocktail, half "gin" and half "French vermouth."

So what am I supposed to do about that, Hugo Ensslin? Either "dry gin" and "gin" aren't the same thing, or Ensslin is padding out his book with multiple names for the same drink. Or, it's a simple editing error, in which case I'm pretty much out of luck.

The Gibson is widely used today to refer to a subtle martini variant--a martini with cocktail onions instead of olives. Assuming that Ensslin's Gibson has some connection to what we now think of as the Gibson, I have a hard time imagining that the gin in his Gibson ought to be anything other than dry.

Hence, I can only assume that these cocktails were offered different names by Ensslin because he says that the Fifty-Fifty is to be stirred, and then Gibson is to be shaken. Truly, we are dealing with a sophisticated science if that subtle a variation is enough to distinguish two drinks from each other.

For now, I'm going to deal with this by assuming that there are three kinds of gin that Hugo wanted me to use--London dry, Old Tom, and Holland. Anytime Old Tom or Holland are not listed, I'm going to assume any reasonably nice London dry will be acceptable. I'll hold off on the recipes that call for Old Tom for now, until I either find a bottle, or decide that it's too difficult to come by.