Enter -- The Negroni (Dun, Dun, Dun!)

Campari and I have an understanding -- It doesn't bother me, and I don't talk about what a bitter old hag it is. I am by no means a bitterphobe, but Campari has always struck me as living in its own special land of exquisite bite. This isn't the sort of thing that would normally bother me, as I'm of the belief that one doesn't have to like every single spirit out there (whole categories like, say, Gin? That's another thing entirely). Unfortunately there is the little matter of the Negroni. Lauded by legions of fans, this drink has been recently popping up seemingly all over the place as being a thing of beauty.

Being a great believer in the alchemy of drink, I decided that I was clearly missing out on something, and began a program of occasionally dropping by one of my trusted watering holes to see what the fuss was about. I was universally disappointed. The bitterness was almost dirt like in its apparently liquid rage, and I was glad to be done with each one. What puzzled me the most was that I knew I wasn't being served poorly made Negronis. I was, after all, at the parlors of some of the best mixologists in San Francisco. Eventually I decided that it must be some sort of defect in me, and decided to let it go.

Enter -- Duggan McDonnell (Dun, Dun, Dun!) -- A couple of nights ago I stopped by for a drink, and as the night wore on mentioned was the Negroni. He declared it (surprise!) one of his favorites, and I admitted to hating it. He fixed upon me a snazzy gaze, and made it quite clear that once my martini was finished he would be making me one. It wasn't long before I was staring at a drink I didn't expect to enjoy at all. The first sip wasn't as bad as I was expecting, but the bitterness of the finish was unpleasantly overwhelming. Seeing as I was raised up right, I decided that I would clean my plate as it were, and finish the drink.

A couple more sips in, a strange thing began to happen. The bitterness began to fade, or I began to no longer notice it as much, and I started to taste the nuances of the orange and gin. Somewhere around the halfway mark, I began to see the latent magic in the drink. There was, I realized, something there there. As I finished it I wasn't quite the total convert, but many a crack had been placed upon my armor of dislike.

I am left with an interesting question -- Did I give Duggan a leg up on the other bar tenders by telling him up front that I hated the Negroni, and Campari? Was it to his advantage in so far as he was able to craft what could be considered an entry level Negroni to ease me into the drink by being more selective in what particular Gins and Sweet Vermouths he used? Only time will tell as I am re-igniting my quest, and there will be more Negronis testing my tongue.

Comments always welcome or feel free to e-mail us at drinkaweek [at] gmail [dot] com.

38) Velvet Seal

1 oz. Goslings Black Seal Rum
1 oz. Laird's Bonded Applejack
.5 oz. Rhum Clément Creole Shrubb
.5 oz. lemon juice
.5 oz John D. Taylor's Velvet Falernum
2 dashes Fee Bros. Peach Bitters

Shake all ingredients with ice and strain into a Collins glass over fresh ice.

This one started mostly due to some recent experiences/things I've read about the way in which Applejack seems to play very nicely with other spirits. It was a rather warm day a while back when I dropped by the bar (I know I'm behind. One handed here!). Ed and I were very much feeling in a summer mood, and it seemed a summer kind of drink was going to be the order of the day. Ed was down for the Black seal as he thought it would do a good job at standing up to the Applejack. Which it did.

Not bad at all. In the first iteration we left out the bitters -- They definitely made the drink so we'd recommend not leaving them out. They can be a bit hard to find, but thanks to the power of the internet you can find them at Kegworks. Failing all that, we wouldn't poke you in the eye if you used Peychaud's.

Comments always welcome or feel free to e-mail us at drinkaweek [at] gmail [dot] com.

What's the Sound of One Hand Drinking Beer?

I suppose it's time to talk about that American wild ale tasting I recently mentioned. Fortunately for my one hand (the last two weeks have been filled with some of the least erotic one handed typing of my life) there are write-ups here (by the man behind the plan, Rob), here, and here! For the intensely interested, be sure to check out the menu/notes right 'round these parts. Of course, since I long ago shot brevity in the face over a land dispute, I've got to give some of my own beer ignorant impressions.

-- The food was all around fantastic, but the way Rob paired it with the beers was perfect. My favorite beer of the day was the Allagash Interlude, in large part because of Rob's matching it up with delicious, delicious cured meats. The fat from the meat cut the sour, and tamed the carbonation allowing for the full rich flavor of the beer to come out from behind the funk.

-- Being a friend of Rob, other beer enthusiasts tend to think I know a goddamned thing about beer. This is not true. I believe the most technical terms I used during the day were "fucking" and "delicious". Fertile ground for a cocktail geek to feel alienated, but the crew who was there was an insanely welcoming lot.

-- Listening to two beer enthusiasts argue about the difference between a cask and a keg is hilarious.

-- At the end of the tasting, having polished off all the beer, JJ admitted to having brought a small bottle of Angel’s Share. I had never heard of this beer, but the bulging eyes, and childlike giggling it wasn't hard to figure out that it was a special bottle. I offered to stay out of the tasting, as its full power would have been lost on me, but the kids were having none of it. Thank God for that, because sweet Jesus! It was a full steam punch of amazing in a glass. So good just opening the bottle made Lil Baby Pfiff cry. If you come across this, buy as much as you can afford -- Then a few more bottles.

Keep your eyes open for the next one coming soon. Right Rob? Huh? Yeah, you love it!

Comments always welcome or feel free to e-mail us at drinkaweek [at] gmail [dot] com.

Paucity of Posting

While we know we don't really provide a cascade of content, we like to think we do a pretty good job of bringing the goods. Unfortunately, Ed is working on getting a reliable internet connection, and a few days ago I sustained a hand injury that has left me pretty much one handed for the near future. Just wanted to let you, our fine ass regular readers, know that while posting may slow down a bit (typing with only ones non-dominent hand sucks) we're still around. There's still the stuff I mentioned in the last update being worked on, and Ed and I knocked out a rather tasty little drink, so stick with us.

We think of you all at last call.

The Lonely Friday Link -- Of Love!

Well, it's been a while hasn't it? We've missed you! While we continue to work on a few things, we recommend you take a gander at an excellent article over on 7x7 Magazine's site by local wine and spirits writer Jordan Mackay chronicling a night at his, well, night job -- Manning the bar at Cantina. It's an interesting peek at the frequently not so sexy world of bartending.

Comments always welcome or feel free to e-mail us at drinkaweek [at] gmail [dot] com.

Taste the (Beer) Rainbow!

Like beer? Of course you do! Ever had an American Wild Ale? Me neither! Fortunately for all of us, Overlord Beernerd Rob is hosting a tasting of many of these fine brews because he loves you. The full lowdown can be found here.

The best part, of course, is that I'll be there lending a hand with the food. Delicious, delicious food. If you're lucky I'll tell you all about the John/Tom Collins. Oh, who am I kidding, I'm going to tell you why whether you like it or not.

Comments always welcome or feel free to e-mail us at drinkaweek [at] gmail [dot] com.

Plymouth Sloe Gin

As regular readers may remember, when I heard that Plymouth Sloe Gin was making its way to our shores I was, well, a bit excited. Its arrival turned out to be a bit of a clusterfuck, as arrival dates for the precious liquid came and went with no Plymouth and no idea from the (very patient) folks at the store I continued to bombard with my presence. When it finally arrived I was almost vibrating with excitement. Sitting on my desk at work, it mocked me with its not being open. Never before was I so tempted to drink on the job.

Once home with my precious cargo, a dark thought came over me. My expectations had blown themselves a bit out of proportion, and I was fearing a huge letdown. In my fevered brain this product, only spoken about in whispers, was some sort of curative nostrum of the soul. To sip this drink would be to see the face of creation. I poured myself a wee bit of the stuff, and (trying to lower my expectation) took a sip. I didn't have any holy hallucinations, but I'll be damned if it wasn't fucking delicious.

Knowing that sloe berries are so tart as to be virtually inedible, I was expecting either a much more astringent product, or something that was perhaps overly sweetened to mask the puckering punch. Rather than either of those, there was a wonderful balance between the sweet and the sour. The first thing that hit me, was an intense, jammy flavor that's somewhat difficult to describe. It was kind of like a mash up of fruits, none of which could easily be pinned down (though the most distinct flavor I got was blackberry). In the finish I got a slight, and somewhat surprising, hint of strawberry.

With that out of the way, it was time for a cocktail! I began to consult my various books, and websites -- I knew I could give the classic Sloe Gin Fizz a whirl, but I was interested in giving something else a shot if it caught my eye. What eventually caught it, was the Daisy recipe from David Wondrich's fantastic new book Imbibe. Here's the specifics of what I used.

Sloe Gin Daisy

2 oz. Plymouth Sloe Gin
.5 oz. lemon juice
1.5 tsp. Creole Shrub
1 tsp. simple syrup

Shaken, and strained into a cocktail glass, and topped with soda.

With the inherent tartness of the Plymouth, and the half ounce of lemon juice with nothing but a couple of teaspoons of sweetener to balance it out, I was sure it was going to be one tart beverage. Oh how wrong I was -- This little baby is a thing of beauty. It's just sweet enough to keep it from being too tart for human consumption, and makes for a cocktail that falls perfectly in my dryness range. In his book, Wondrich briefly debates the type of glass to use, and advises the cocktail as it prevents adding in too much soda. It's a suggestion that's right on the money, as there was just enough effervescence to open up the drink, but it was pretty easy to tell that it wouldn't have taken much more to drown out the complexity of the other ingredients.

Comments always welcome or feel free to e-mail us at drinkaweek [at] gmail [dot] com.