Tony Noland's Blog, page 7
April 23, 2015
T is for Tom Collins
Here's another simple one with a rich pedigree. Gin, lemon juice and simple syrup, topped up with soda water and ice. Pace yourself, and you can drink Tom Collinses all night.
So far as I know, this drink has nothing to do with Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice. I doubt that he would ever have the presence of mind to order one.
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So far as I know, this drink has nothing to do with Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice. I doubt that he would ever have the presence of mind to order one.
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April 22, 2015
S is for Sangria
What is Sangria doing on a list of cocktails? Isn't the primary ingredient red wine?
Yes, but all the best Sangria has a solid mass of brandy in the punchbowl. When made properly, it's so delicious, I'll stretch a point.
Slice a few oranges, apples and peaches into a punchbowl. If you have one, crush up a pomegranate, too. Pour in a few bottles of a robust red, a Beaujolais nouveau, one of the vin ordinaire that goes so well with bread, cheese, and an attractive member of your preferred sex. Four bottles should do it. Or half a case, maybe.
Add half a bottle of brandy. Again, don't try to impress anyone with the cask reserve stuff. Make it a drinkable label, but don't go to any dark corners of the cellar to get it.
Let the bowl sit for an hour or so before you add some ice. Chill the bowl down and serve by the pitcher.
And leave the pitcher on the table, so your guests can help themselves throughout the evening. Light some candles, put on some music, enjoy your Sangria.
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
Yes, but all the best Sangria has a solid mass of brandy in the punchbowl. When made properly, it's so delicious, I'll stretch a point.
Slice a few oranges, apples and peaches into a punchbowl. If you have one, crush up a pomegranate, too. Pour in a few bottles of a robust red, a Beaujolais nouveau, one of the vin ordinaire that goes so well with bread, cheese, and an attractive member of your preferred sex. Four bottles should do it. Or half a case, maybe.
Add half a bottle of brandy. Again, don't try to impress anyone with the cask reserve stuff. Make it a drinkable label, but don't go to any dark corners of the cellar to get it.
Let the bowl sit for an hour or so before you add some ice. Chill the bowl down and serve by the pitcher.
And leave the pitcher on the table, so your guests can help themselves throughout the evening. Light some candles, put on some music, enjoy your Sangria.
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
April 21, 2015
R is for Rum and Coke
I've been pretty scrupulous to avoid easy drinks for this A to Z cocktail catalog. It's just too easy to slap "... and Coke" onto any kind of booze and call it a cocktail.
The Rum and Coke, however, stands alone. It's a classic, just as simple as a martini, just as complex as a new love affair.
There are those purists who will immediately shout out for the Cuba Libre, made with the old style, cane-sugar cola and a splash of fresh lime. Other partisans will no doubt wave high the banners of RC Cola, Guaranito or some other favored cola brand. The champions of dark rum will rail against the champions of light rum, and the blenders will stand on the sidelines, brickbats at the ready.
Apostates of Coke Zero, Diet Pepsi and the like will wave their freak flags high in the face of near-universal scorn, while the Dr. Pepper, IBC Root Beer, and (God have mercy on our souls) Mountain Dew fans burn together in a hell of their own making.
Rum and Coke... was there ever a better combination to enjoy on a summer evening?
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The Rum and Coke, however, stands alone. It's a classic, just as simple as a martini, just as complex as a new love affair.
There are those purists who will immediately shout out for the Cuba Libre, made with the old style, cane-sugar cola and a splash of fresh lime. Other partisans will no doubt wave high the banners of RC Cola, Guaranito or some other favored cola brand. The champions of dark rum will rail against the champions of light rum, and the blenders will stand on the sidelines, brickbats at the ready.
Apostates of Coke Zero, Diet Pepsi and the like will wave their freak flags high in the face of near-universal scorn, while the Dr. Pepper, IBC Root Beer, and (God have mercy on our souls) Mountain Dew fans burn together in a hell of their own making.
Rum and Coke... was there ever a better combination to enjoy on a summer evening?
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
April 20, 2015
Q is for Queen of the May
Dear reader, I have three confessions to make.
First, "Queen of the May" is a bit of a misnomer. The drink is better known as "May Queen", both of which are short for the drink's full and proper name, "To-morrow'll be of all the year the maddest, merriest day, for I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May." As you might imagine, the full name can be a bit cumbersome to call out in a crowded bar.
Second, unlike every other cocktail in this A to Z catalog, which I have at one time or another actually tasted, I have not, in truth, had the pleasure of drinking a May Queen. One of the reasons I've never had this drink is that it is fictional (which is why I felt a bit better about garbling up the name in order to fit under a blog post about a "Q" cocktail, which, let's be honest, is a bit tough to swing no matter who you are.)
The May Queen was described by P.G. Wodehouse's Lord Ickenham (aka Uncle Fred, aka Uncle Dynamite) in the novel Uncle Fred in the Springtime , a first edition of which I happen to be the proud owner. Uncle Fred describes the drink thusly:
Another reason I've never had one is that it's a bloody complicated and expensive drink to make. It also sounds like the kind of thing that energetic young men on a pub crawl would order for each other late in the evening, then spend an hour daring each other to slug down.
Still, the May Queen regularly makes the lists for the most famous literary cocktails of all time, so I'm proud to give it a place here.
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First, "Queen of the May" is a bit of a misnomer. The drink is better known as "May Queen", both of which are short for the drink's full and proper name, "To-morrow'll be of all the year the maddest, merriest day, for I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May." As you might imagine, the full name can be a bit cumbersome to call out in a crowded bar.
Second, unlike every other cocktail in this A to Z catalog, which I have at one time or another actually tasted, I have not, in truth, had the pleasure of drinking a May Queen. One of the reasons I've never had this drink is that it is fictional (which is why I felt a bit better about garbling up the name in order to fit under a blog post about a "Q" cocktail, which, let's be honest, is a bit tough to swing no matter who you are.)
The May Queen was described by P.G. Wodehouse's Lord Ickenham (aka Uncle Fred, aka Uncle Dynamite) in the novel Uncle Fred in the Springtime , a first edition of which I happen to be the proud owner. Uncle Fred describes the drink thusly:
Its foundation is any good, dry champagne, to which is added liqueur brandy, armagnac, kummel, yellow chartreuse and old stout, to taste.
Another reason I've never had one is that it's a bloody complicated and expensive drink to make. It also sounds like the kind of thing that energetic young men on a pub crawl would order for each other late in the evening, then spend an hour daring each other to slug down.
Still, the May Queen regularly makes the lists for the most famous literary cocktails of all time, so I'm proud to give it a place here.
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
April 18, 2015
P is for Planter's Punch
This is one of those very loose recipes that really depends on your taste and how active you plan to be for the rest of afternoon after you start drinking these. Perfect for a barbecue, a garden party, a croquet tournament, whatever.
Basically, you get a pitcher (or for a larger party, a punch bowl). Slosh in a lot of dark rum (for a party, pour in the whole bottle. Or two bottles. Again, whatever. Don't overthink this.) Add some fruit juices - plenty of orange juice, some lemon juice, some pineapple juice (if you have it), maybe some apple juice. Pour in enough grenadine to pink up the mix, add a few dashed of bitters (or not, if you don't like that sort of thing).
Stir it up and ladle it into ice-filled glasses. Want to garnish with orange slices and maraschino cherries? Go ahead. Want to add some of those paper umbrellas you got from the party store? Sure! Those make any party more festive.
However, the recipe doesn't really matter. Once the supply runs low, you can just start pouring in more ingredients to bring the level back up. The ratios of rum, fruit juices and grenadine will go wonky after the second punchbowl is emptied, so the taste will go a bit wide of the mark, too.
But, hey, you'll be having too much fun on the fourth wicket to care about such niceties!
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
Basically, you get a pitcher (or for a larger party, a punch bowl). Slosh in a lot of dark rum (for a party, pour in the whole bottle. Or two bottles. Again, whatever. Don't overthink this.) Add some fruit juices - plenty of orange juice, some lemon juice, some pineapple juice (if you have it), maybe some apple juice. Pour in enough grenadine to pink up the mix, add a few dashed of bitters (or not, if you don't like that sort of thing).
Stir it up and ladle it into ice-filled glasses. Want to garnish with orange slices and maraschino cherries? Go ahead. Want to add some of those paper umbrellas you got from the party store? Sure! Those make any party more festive.
However, the recipe doesn't really matter. Once the supply runs low, you can just start pouring in more ingredients to bring the level back up. The ratios of rum, fruit juices and grenadine will go wonky after the second punchbowl is emptied, so the taste will go a bit wide of the mark, too.
But, hey, you'll be having too much fun on the fourth wicket to care about such niceties!
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
April 17, 2015
O is for Old Fashioned
Here's a funny story about the Old Fashioned.
After President Franklin Roosevelt died, President Truman and his wife eventually moved into the White House. At the time, the White House was staffed by a coterie of people who were deeply committed to the deceased FDR. This is not surprising, since he'd been in office for 13 years, steering the country through the Great Depression and World War II.
The staff was just as deeply resentful and dismissive of the Trumans. They saw the new President as a little man, a political hack, firmly in the vest pocket of Boss Pendergast, the king of the Kansas City machine. His dowdy, drab wife Bess they dismissed as a small-town housewife woman who was everything that the eloquent, cosmopolitan, patrician Eleanor Roosevelt was not.
The Trumans always enjoyed a drink together before dinner each night, a habit of long standing throughout their marriage. Soon after moving in, the First Lady asked the White House dining room steward for an Old Fashioned. The steward, a mixologist of fine training, prepared an Old Fashioned according to a classic recipe: bourbon, bitters, and a sugar lump, mixed with a splash of spring water and garnished with the traditional orange slice and maraschino cherry.
Mrs. Truman drank it, but the next night, she asked for an Old Fashioned again, but this time, made properly. The steward, his professional pride no doubt stung, asked for specifics. "Not so sweet", she said.
So, the steward prepared another Old Fashioned, this time using a different brand of bourbon and a different recipe. He garnished it in the traditional way and served it. This time, Mrs. Truman did not finish the drink.
The next night, she told the steward that if she'd wanted a fruit salad before dinner she would have asked for one, and that if the man didn't know how to make an Old Fashioned, he should just say so and find someone who did. This time, the steward went behind the bar, sloshed some rye whiskey into a highball glass and served it to her, neat. While he stood waiting, she took a sip.
"Ah!", she said. "Now THAT'S an Old Fashioned!"
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
After President Franklin Roosevelt died, President Truman and his wife eventually moved into the White House. At the time, the White House was staffed by a coterie of people who were deeply committed to the deceased FDR. This is not surprising, since he'd been in office for 13 years, steering the country through the Great Depression and World War II.
The staff was just as deeply resentful and dismissive of the Trumans. They saw the new President as a little man, a political hack, firmly in the vest pocket of Boss Pendergast, the king of the Kansas City machine. His dowdy, drab wife Bess they dismissed as a small-town housewife woman who was everything that the eloquent, cosmopolitan, patrician Eleanor Roosevelt was not.
The Trumans always enjoyed a drink together before dinner each night, a habit of long standing throughout their marriage. Soon after moving in, the First Lady asked the White House dining room steward for an Old Fashioned. The steward, a mixologist of fine training, prepared an Old Fashioned according to a classic recipe: bourbon, bitters, and a sugar lump, mixed with a splash of spring water and garnished with the traditional orange slice and maraschino cherry.
Mrs. Truman drank it, but the next night, she asked for an Old Fashioned again, but this time, made properly. The steward, his professional pride no doubt stung, asked for specifics. "Not so sweet", she said.
So, the steward prepared another Old Fashioned, this time using a different brand of bourbon and a different recipe. He garnished it in the traditional way and served it. This time, Mrs. Truman did not finish the drink.
The next night, she told the steward that if she'd wanted a fruit salad before dinner she would have asked for one, and that if the man didn't know how to make an Old Fashioned, he should just say so and find someone who did. This time, the steward went behind the bar, sloshed some rye whiskey into a highball glass and served it to her, neat. While he stood waiting, she took a sip.
"Ah!", she said. "Now THAT'S an Old Fashioned!"
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
April 16, 2015
N is for Negroni
Warning: DO NOT MAKE THIS DRINK.
I'm telling you, the Negroni is NOT something you will like. Why? I'll tell you why: it has Campari in it.
I made the mistake of buying a bottle of Campari years ago. Swayed by sexy ads like this one, I decided to try a drink I'd heard of but never had: Campari and soda.
Disgusting.
Lick the underside of a car battery from a 2004 Honda CRV. That's what Campari tastes like. There isn't enough soda water in all the universe to disguise that horrifically bitter taste.
Still, I persevered. Lots of people drink Campari, I thought. It's a sexy, hip, liqueur, I thought. Surely there must be some way to use it in a drink that would be palatable, I thought. Besides, having sunk the cost of the bottle, I wanted to get some return on the investment.
Gentle reader, I tried everything. Sweet, dry, strong, mild, dark, light, complex, simple, cold, warm, and everything in between.
The last drink I tried was a Negroni: one part each of gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari.
Conclusion: the Negroni is a complete waste of gin and sweet vermouth.
Let me say again, DO NOT MAKE THIS DRINK.
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
I'm telling you, the Negroni is NOT something you will like. Why? I'll tell you why: it has Campari in it.
I made the mistake of buying a bottle of Campari years ago. Swayed by sexy ads like this one, I decided to try a drink I'd heard of but never had: Campari and soda.Disgusting.
Lick the underside of a car battery from a 2004 Honda CRV. That's what Campari tastes like. There isn't enough soda water in all the universe to disguise that horrifically bitter taste.
Still, I persevered. Lots of people drink Campari, I thought. It's a sexy, hip, liqueur, I thought. Surely there must be some way to use it in a drink that would be palatable, I thought. Besides, having sunk the cost of the bottle, I wanted to get some return on the investment.
Gentle reader, I tried everything. Sweet, dry, strong, mild, dark, light, complex, simple, cold, warm, and everything in between.
The last drink I tried was a Negroni: one part each of gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari.
Conclusion: the Negroni is a complete waste of gin and sweet vermouth.
Let me say again, DO NOT MAKE THIS DRINK.
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
April 15, 2015
M is for Manhattan
I'll be honest, dear reader. I came really close to writing about martinis instead of Manhattans for "M". I like a Manhattan every now and then, but they always seem to be overdone. Too many ingredients, too fussy, too much opportunity to get them wrong.
The wrong kind of whiskey, wrong brand of vermouth (or dry instead of sweet), too many cherries, orange slice isn't ripe enough (all color, no flavor), three dashes of bitters instead of two...
I'm all for individual preference, and drinking what you like, but I've never really gotten a Manhattan at a bar that I liked. They were always not quite right. That's why I make them at home when I have them. Even then, even when I get the drink exactly right, the Manhattan is almost more trouble than it's worth.
Almost.
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The wrong kind of whiskey, wrong brand of vermouth (or dry instead of sweet), too many cherries, orange slice isn't ripe enough (all color, no flavor), three dashes of bitters instead of two...
I'm all for individual preference, and drinking what you like, but I've never really gotten a Manhattan at a bar that I liked. They were always not quite right. That's why I make them at home when I have them. Even then, even when I get the drink exactly right, the Manhattan is almost more trouble than it's worth.
Almost.
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
April 14, 2015
L is for Limoncello
I first had limoncello during a wonderful week in Sorrento, Italy. (Yes, Sorrento really looks like this picture - it's amazing.)We'd strolled through the whitewashed villas atop the Isle of Capri, drinking Lachryma de Christo in a shady hilltop restaurant as the sunlight danced on the waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea.
We'd communed with the ghosts of Pompeii and Herculaneum, sipping surprising good cappuccino and dulce de leche in a tourist bar.
We'd driven the length of the Amalfi Coast, sucking gratefully at cool bottles of Peroni while the sweat dried on our bodies in the salt- and seaweed-scented breeze.
And, on what I believe was our last day, after our second day spent walking the streets of Sorrento, moving from cool shadow to blazing sun, we left the cobblestones, cathedrals and courtyards to settle into a streetside cafe where we had limoncello.
Dear reader, it was a transcendent experience. The intensity of the lemon flavor, the clean, biting top note of the alcohol, all supported by the sweetness of the liqueur, was just heavenly. It was like relaxation and serenity and contentment, carefully distilled to 100 proof and sealed in an oddly-shaped bottle.
You know what happens next, right?
Of course you do.
We bought a bottle (being VERY careful to get the same brand we'd just enjoyed), took it back home with us, and... were utterly disappointed. Out of context, it tasted nothing like what we'd had. It's possible we'd been rooked, and had overpaid for a cheap, crappy, tourist version of the heaven-in-a-glass that gave us such pleasure in Sorrento.
Such are the vicissitudes of travel. It broadens the mind, deepens the soul, and, if you let it, educates the palate.
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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
April 13, 2015
K is for Kümmel
Kümmel is, to say the least, an acquired taste. It's a liqueur with a strong caraway and anise flavor. Thick and sweet, a cordial of ice-cold kümmel was presented to me as a wonderful digestif, an after-dinner herbal infusion that helps to settle the stomach and aid digestion.
To be honest, it tasted to me like it would be more effective at aiding emesis than digestion, but I didn't want to be rude to my hosts.
I haven't tried a kümmel cordial in decades - the taste lingers that long in one's memory. Still, maybe I should give it another try. I used to despise Jägermeister, another herbal digestif, albeit one that is much better known to Americans. Now, I sometimes enjoy a cordial of Jägermeister, poured right from the bottle I keep in my freezer.
Is this appreciation of intense flavors the result of epicurean wisdom and a mature palate, gained through the experience of decades of adventuresome drinking? Or, now that I am past the mid-point of my life, is it a consequence of my taste buds slowly dying off, only one among the various harbingers of my inevitable (and, I hope, graceful) decline into senescence and death?
Something to think about as I sip my next glass of kümmel, anisette, or Jägermeister.
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To be honest, it tasted to me like it would be more effective at aiding emesis than digestion, but I didn't want to be rude to my hosts.
I haven't tried a kümmel cordial in decades - the taste lingers that long in one's memory. Still, maybe I should give it another try. I used to despise Jägermeister, another herbal digestif, albeit one that is much better known to Americans. Now, I sometimes enjoy a cordial of Jägermeister, poured right from the bottle I keep in my freezer.
Is this appreciation of intense flavors the result of epicurean wisdom and a mature palate, gained through the experience of decades of adventuresome drinking? Or, now that I am past the mid-point of my life, is it a consequence of my taste buds slowly dying off, only one among the various harbingers of my inevitable (and, I hope, graceful) decline into senescence and death?
Something to think about as I sip my next glass of kümmel, anisette, or Jägermeister.
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Help keep the words flowing.
Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.
