‘Tis definitely not the season

A thousand apologies for failing to deliver on that alternative holiday cocktail list I mentioned months ago.  For any of you surprised or offended by this lack of follow through, take that as an indication that you clearly aren’t familiar with how on top of things the boy behind this blog really is.

Timing aside, the concept of making holiday themed cocktails that don’t employ gross amounts of sugar, peppermint schnapps and candy canes was an intriguing one, so - while inexcusably late - I have not given up on it just yet.  As a matter of fact, I had - at the original time of the post - been offered a challenge upon mentioning the evils of the overly-processed, syrupy throat-spackle we commonly refer to as ‘eggnog’ when my dear friend and epicurean artíst, Gabriell, chose to advocate on behalf of ‘quality’ eggnog.  I was skeptical (as is my nature), but after making some eggnog from scratch for myself (eggs, heavy cream, milk, raw sugar, vanilla and homemade orange/clove infused brandy), I realized that there was such a thing as palatable - nay, decent - eggnog that wouldn’t leave you in a diabetic coma after one cup (okay, maybe it may still, but at least it wouldn’t taste like it).

I must be honest with you, this has been an epic move for me in terms of venturing further into the use and consumption of ‘raw’ animal products.  Seafood was a big jump for me in high school, but for ages raw eggs always translated to “salmonella” to me (remember: Chris = hypocondriac).  But here I was, mixing a dozen raw eggs into a beverage I’d be drinking neat…guts intact.

TANGENT: While we’re on the subject, I’m going to take this time to plug a ridiculous “beernog” recipe from a brilliant beer and cheese monger, Randy Clemens.  Give it a read, then read on.  Not only is he a better writer than I; he also touches on a broader scope of all things food-and-drink.  Speaking of which, he entered his own video in a contest to be on “Grill it! With Bobby Flay,” that you should vote for.  Not only does he deserve to win the spot, but I have asked him to kick Flay in the nuts for my own personal satisfaction in the event that he win (the former being very unlikely to occur).  Seriously, it’s a bad-ass video and recipe he shares: I’d watch it just for the food porn. Go. Do it now. Read this later…

Wait. Where was I going with this?  Where did this all come from!?

Oh right.

After revisiting one of my favorite comics, I was reminded of the few egg-containing cocktails I had had (namely, a ramos gin fizz  and a pisco sour) and felt that it was time to ’speriment, myself, all the while keeping Gabe’s original request for an eggnog-inclusive cocktail.  The specifics have to be ironed out, but here’s what I’ve got so far:

Hall o’ Deck

•  1.5 oz bourbon, rum or brandy

•  1/2 oz cinnamon simple syrup

•  3 dashes Fee Bros. Old-Fashioned bitters

•  2 oz heavy creme

•  1 small (preferably ‘farm-fresh’) egg

•  Fresh nutmeg

Start by separating the egg whites from the yolk into your mixing glass. You may use either egg whites (for a lighter drink) or yolk (for a heartier one), but I doubt you’d want the whole egg in there.  With either the whites or yolk in your mixing glass, engage your mixing tin and do a quick but firm ‘dry shake’ (without ice) to gently denature the proteins from the eggs a bit so that they’ll bind less and homogenize better with the other ingredients.  Next, add your creme, bourbon, syrup, bitters (I favored Fee’s over Angostura as it has a woodier, spicier cinnamon kick that just seems appropriate, here) and ice, then snap the tin back on and shake the bejezus out of it (you want to try to build up a nice froth).  Strain into a cocktail glass or coupe and grate some fresh nutmeg over the top.
Despite taking a great picture, it still needs some work.  The taste and texture was a little too watery for my liking; ideally I’m looking for a more viscous, smooth and creamy texture.  Just a little more fiddling and I should get it down, and when I do - you’ll know about it.

*clink!*

Hawt.

Before we get rolling: my deepest thanks to Ms. Kara Newman of Spice & Ice for a lovely write up following our brief interaction in regards to my looking for a proper protocol for making habañero simple syrup (results after the jump).  Her blog is chock-full of tasty recipes and tipple tips which I’m sure you’d all do well to peruse at great lengths.   …GREAT LENGTHS.

In the meantime, however: the RESULTS of perusal, followed by the brainchild of my spicy-tooth:

Habañero Simple Syrup

•  4 fresh habañero peppers

•  1 cup water

•   1 cup sugar

Much like every other simple syrup, birthing this one plays out nearly the same; bring water to boil; stir in sugar until dissolved; take off heat and immediately throw in peppers to steep while letting the solution cool, stirring occasionally.  2 very important things to mention, however …  when handling habañeros, I STRONGLY encourage you to wear some disposable polymer-based (latex…or in my case, commandeered nitrile) gloves as you need to cut the tops off of the peppers (and preferably slice them in two) in order to expose the seeds before steeping them.  The seeds and juice have the highest concentration of capsaicin which - due do it’s molecular structure - likes to stick around greasy areas such as YOUR SKIN.  So either be very careful to wash your hands with plenty of soap before touching anything else (eyes/genitals/loved ones…I have - nor want - any knowledge of how you live your personal lives) or wear yer dag gum PPE.

I am a hypochondriac.

The Serenity or “River Tam” Cocktail

(If you get it - great - if not, do not waste your time looking for the ‘Tam River’ on a map. Thanks to Gabe for suggesting the alternate naming)

•   1.5 oz rye, bourbon or spiced rum

•   Juice from 1/2 lime (about 3/4 oz)

•  1/2 oz habañero simple syrup

•  2 slices fresh ginger root

•  club soda

Pulverize 2 slices of ginger in habañero syrup, followed by adding spirit and squeezing in the lime.  Add ice and shake.  Pour into a low ball glass filled with ice (with strainer if you don’t want to chew on bits of ginger…which I tend to like) and top it off with club soda and give it a quick stir.  If you want, you can garnish with an extra wheel of lime, but - in all honesty - I only did it for show.

You’d never be able to tell from the aroma, but this beauty isn’t for the weak of heart.  It packs a punch, BUT…it is delish (I DO say so myself).  The heat from the syrup lingers and warms the gullet after the spiciness from the fresh ginger wake up the front of the palate.  Don’t be frightened, tho - all of this fire is pleasantly quenched by the lime and soda water as the rye (or bourbon, or spiced rum…Daniel and I tried em all!) lends a large hand balancing out what would otherwise be a hell of an alternative head-cold remedy.  Hmmmm, maybe THIS should have the pharmaceutical moniker.  Hot and refreshing.  You’ve been warned.

Aye!-moxacillin

     Ear infections and lab drama aside, this has been a good year so far in terms of broadening my taste for different drinks.  With the recent openings of tequila and rum-centric “speakeasies” such as The Tar Pit on La Brea (hurr hurr) and the swank but somehow kitschy La Descarga (think ‘pre-Castro’ Cuban supper club…with no supper), I found it hard not to be drawn in to the curious and colorful new flavors each bar had on their bill.  I’m a stranger to tequila. I’d heard enough anecdotes from may a college friend involving missing clothing, dignity and general sense of decency while under it’s influence to sway me from the stuff for a good portion of my life, save for the arbitrary Margarita Mondays at the Westwood Alcapulco during my first year of grad school.

There you have it: the extent of my knowledge were tequila cocktails are concerned.  Sad, isn’t it? Tequila -> cheap, lime Icee. I’m pretty sure I could be an allegory for breeding cultural ignorance…but I want to talk about tequila, not proliferating asinine stereotypes.

Luckily, my wary predisposition towards trying tequila has been squelched since being introduced to a variety of new and curious concoctions. Most notable at the moment: The Lil’ Jig, at the Tar Pit threw my senses for a loop. Tequila blanco, green chartreuse, thai basil and simple syrup work together surprisingly well here to make an intensely savory yet refreshing tipple so good I fear that my initial reaction to my first sip caused drinking partners Daniel and Juliet to feel a smidgen embarrassed.  It was no “When Harry Met Sally,” but I will admit: there were some…embellished sighs.

…MOVING ON:

From the puritan standpoint, I got the chance to try a phenomenal añejo tequila during my first visit to La Descarga following my expertly crafted and - come to think of it - first pisco sour, the former of which I will dedicate an entire post to as soon as I get a chance to taste it again.  In the meantime, I decided to buy my first ever (ever? dang) bottle of tequila for to make mixing with.  Inspired by the D.F. 68(?) at The Roger Room, I also picked up some jalapeno peppers to make something with kick…cause there ain’t no way I’m making something bland.  Tonight, I had my first round with this…so-called…’tequila.’

Amoxicillin

•  1.5 oz. plata tequila (I used Milagro, but any blanco over $15 a bottle should work)

•  1.5 oz. fresh squeezed honey tangerine juice (1/4 should be enough)

•  1 tsp. simple syrup

•  2 slices (wheels) fresh jalapeño

Add all ingredients into a mixing glass while leaving one jalapeño wheel for garnish.  Add ice, and shake thoroughly for at least 10 seconds.  Strain through wire mesh (to make sure no seeds get through) into lowball glass filled with fresh ice and garnish with the remaining pepper slice. *Note* - depending on how hot you want this drink to be, you can muddle the syrup and jalapeño before adding the rest of the ingredients.

Daniel noted that the smell (not spiciness) of the jalapeño garnish is the first thing that hit him before even taking his first sip (bright, sweet green pepper), which either sets you up or completely disarms (depending on how spicy you decide to make the drink).  Sweet; savory; bright and spicy.  Huh!

Good news: I’m very surprised as to how balanced (also, good!) this came out on the first try.

Bad news: Inspired to make some habañero simple syrup.  Will need to steal gloves from lab.  Wheee!

Right. What’d I Miss?

Humblest (and at this rate, perpetual) apologies for all the dead time. I’m officially a year from my graduation and I’m a little strung out.

Excuses excuses.

I’m thinking very seriously (because I am a very serious man) about making and sharing a classy* holiday-themed cocktail list later this month if I can get around to making and photographing all of them before said holiday is up.  In the meantime, here’s a teaser:

*(”classy” in the sense that the majority are not chock-full of peppermint schnapps and garnished with candy canes or laden with super-rich eggnog).

The Red Queen

•  2.5 oz London dry gin

•  3 dashes Peychaud Bitters

•  1/8 oz peppercorn simple syrup

•  2-3 fresh basil leaves

Add basil leaves, simple syrup and Peychaud bitters to a mixing glass and press together firmly but gently so as only to release the oils from the basil without tearing the leaves (over-muddling causes the flavor to be too intense and anise-laden while also resulting in unsightly floaty bits of basil in the cocktail glass).  Next, add ice and gin and stir thoroughly until well chilled and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a basil sprig or leaf.

Always been a sucker for basil; and I love the contrast of colors in this one.  Don’t let the connotation of bright-red drinks fool you, here; between the Paychauds, basil and inherent character the gin, the herbaceousness of this really dominates the palate (basil, anise, red and black pepper, lavander, etc.).  A great before or after-dinner tipple, if I do say so myself.

And on to the next…

Improptu Mixology

 As a gentleman of science (not to be confused with a gentleman of leisure, whom also tend to have colorful - if not slightly less toxic - stains on their clothes), I am a sucker for experimentation.

So.

After haphazardly whipping up a batch of tellicherry peppercorn simple syrup* inspired by the first episode of Good Eats (how I love you and your bald spot, Alton), I decided to invite another fellow gastrochemist, Trenten, to aid in finding new and delicious ways to exploit it.  Here are the highlights from the night:
The New Fashion

•  3 fresh pitted cherries

• 3 oz pikesville rye whiskey

• 1 barspoon tellicherry simple syrup

Muddle fresh pitted cherries with black pepper simple syrup.  Add the rye with 4 cubes of ice and stir with bar spoon briefly.  Strain into a lowball with fresh ice.

Basil Martini

• Tellicherry simple syrup

• Junipero gin

• 4 springs fresh basil

Muddle syrup and basil leaves briefly and add ice and shake with 1 jigger gin. Strain into cocktail glass and garnish with small basil leaf.

*Black Pepper Simple Syrup

Dissolve 1 cup sugar in 1 cup water by boiling in a medium saucepan.  Once all the sugar has dissolved and the water is at a rolling boil, remove the pan from the heat and quickly add 1 cup tellicherry or other desired (whole) peppercorns.  Stir briefly, then let sit and cool while intermittently stirring the peppercorns around every couple of minutes.  Once at room temperature, pass the syrup and peppercorns through a fine mesh strainer (or cheesecloth) into an airtight container. Refrigerate. Voilá.
Naturally, failures are an integral part of discovery, and I’d be a right git if I left you thinking that my cocktail-making abilities were somehow infallible (that cliché about learning from your mistakes? Very true).  That being said, I bore witness to a couple of horrors which - for the sake of your sensibilities and my ego - I will not share here.  I will note - however - that if you’re going to use barrel-aged balsamic vinaigrette in a drink, make sure you do so using a bottle that costs at least $40.

Dang.

A Corny Evening Deserves A Corny Headline

Two months ago K&L Wine Merchants hosted a Kentucky Bourbon Distillers, Ltd. tasting at my favorite (Hollywood) brew house, with both the distributors and a whiskey sommelier pouring and discussing the specifics of what differentiates bourbon from other whiskeys (easy), as well as how and where each of their specific bourbons are made and aged (spiffy!). So, like a moth to a flame…wait, no that’s a bad metaphor…like a moth to a linen suit I was there; snifter and Moleskine tasting book in hand.

I’ll spare you most of the unimportant details; but in a nutshell, the night went like this: between 7:00 pm and 11:00 pm on a Tuesday evening, my spirit-savvy friends and I had tasted 7 bourbons and 1 rye (all but one being completely new to me).  12 bottles were emptied between a total of 45 people. And - as is always my luck - after all of the posh, rosy-faced yuppies had left in their Lexus SUVs, the portly, grey CEO at K.B.D. (who – for some reason or another – was suspiciously rosy-faced, himself) began getting rather heavy handed with the most expensive bottle of whiskey they had (Vintage 21 Year Rye) with the remaining patrons (namely: Stephen, Sarah, Oliver and I).  All-in-all an educational, inebriating, and enjoyable evening; full of laughter, merriment and hugs...some of them awkward.

I had originally intended to report back on a few select brands from the night that really caught my fancy, but then opted to fall in line with my aforementioned ‘blogkreig,’ by offering a quick and dirty description of all of them, or at least the ones I remember/jotted down notes for.  Alright let’s DO THIS:

Kentucky Vintage (90 proof)

A good starter. Very light on the nose and the palate.  Subtle maple and nutmeg, noticeably high rye content.  Pleasant overall.  I’d recommend this to anyone who want’s to break away from the more approachable wheated bourbons (Makers, Basil Hayden, etc.).  $32 / 750mL

Vintage 17 Year Bourbon (102 proof)

Sweet and delicate honey on the nose, much less dense than most bourbons.  Also unlike most bourbons, the 17 year fronts a more sophisticated, brighter palate; replacing the characteristic chewy, oaky sweetness with  more herbaceous flare: light maple and honey with touches of mint and coriander that linger long after the first sip.  Not many other people took to this one, but - being a fan of the perplexing - I really enjoyed it.  $80 / 750 mL

Rowan’s Creek Bourbon (101 proof)

I had overlooked this the first time I tried it at the 7 Grand, which I will chalk up to socializing, which always takes precedence.  Here, though, is probably one of the sweetest of any bourbons I’ve ever tried: rich with cherry, dried apricot and vanilla.  Surprisingly dense mouth-feel.  $45 / 750mL

Johnny Drum Private Stock (101 proof)

Solid, medium to full-bodied bourbon.  Rich layers of smoke and chocolate complimented by a delicious, velvety mouth feel.  I definitely need to revisit this one.  $30 / 750mL

Pure Kentucky XO Bourbon (107 proof)

 Heyo!!  Hot and spicy rye mingling with maple and oak on the nose that dissolves on the palate into creamy buttermilk and caramel.  Honestly - imagine a fresh-baked old-fashioned doughnut.  Bought me a bottle of the stuff (actually, it was for my lab) right then and there.  Yummmmm. $42 / 750mL

Noah’s Mill (114.3 proof)

Don’t let the high ABV dissuade you from trying this one.  Mellow, earthy tones of tobacco and oak on the nose which carry on to the palate.  After a rye kick, the tobacco returns, with subtle but delicious notes of cut grass, orange peel, vanilla and créme brulé.  Apparently these last two bourbons were our dessert.  I may or may not have purchased a bottle of this, as well. (Don’t judge me).  $50 / 750mL

Vintage 21 Year Rye (92 proof)

Well, this one woke us all up.  Huge rye on the nose, and an intensely aromatic, beautifully layered flavor profile.  I say “beautiful,” but I think I might mean “crazy-pants-ridiculous.”  Cherry pits, charred oak, turmeric, anise and a bit of turpentine were prominent, though I’m pretty sure there are many a varying interpretation to be had of this one.  Granted, by this time our palates (not to mention most other senses) were glossed over with all the characteristic sweetness of +6 bourbons, so I’m not sure if my recollection of this one is all too accurate despite the extra pours we were getting by the end of the evening (not complaining!).  Deserves a revisit (pending available funds).  $90 / 750mL

Next week, I plan on collaborating with my brother-in-arms-in-bars, Ryan Julio of You Me & Iowa fame as we  compare and contrast our own bottles - each representing two different batches/barrels - of 4 Roses Single Barrel Bourbon.  If you’re not giddy with anticipation, you have much less to worry about than I.

Sugar; Spice; Anything Remotely Pleasant

Forgive me for the hiatus.  Apparently Dr. By Day will - in fact - become a doctor after all.  Give it a few more months; but it’s a done deal.  So…whereas the past few months have been spent worrying and researching, I can now replace the worrying with blogging; thus making awesome science AND cocktails/whiskey reviews.  As a testament to the new lifestyle change, I plan on blitzkrieging my own site with a generous number of posts in the next couple of weeks that should stretch all over the board, so here’s the first installment.

*               *               *               *               *

Normally, seeing the word ‘cinnamon’ scrolled on a label in a liquor or drink isle would immediately illicit a face that I’d have normally reserved for listening to GW speak at press conferences.  That’s probably because cinnamon-flavored beverages - for the most part - speak LIES…thick, sticky, corn syrup-tainted, esterified lies that will no doubt adhere to the your teeth and gullet like a pile of carcinogenic, abrasive chemical hooey (think Big Red or Goldschlagger).

Okay, my hyperbole needs work.

The uncomfortable truth is; I’m not a fan of raw cinnamon, but I can’t help but acknowledge it’s prevalence in many a tasty baked treat; from apple pies, to cinnamon rolls…even churos (I miss going to the LA Zoo) and rugulah (hell of such as oy).  So, while I’m fairly sure that I’ll never be able to understand nor appreciate any product in which cinnamon is at the forefront; I can’t deny it’s versatility in many a comfort food.

Time to make a comfort drink.

Cinnamon-Orange Simple Syrup

• 1 cup water

•  1/2 cup sugar or raw sugar

• 1 rounded tbs ground cinnamon

•  1 whole orange

As is the nature of these syrups…the directions for making them are really, really…easy:

Dissolve the sugar in a medium saucepan on high heat with constant stirring. Once all the sugar is dissolved, turn down the heat to a gentle simmer and add the teaspoon of cinnamon (which should not dissolve completely) followed by the entire rind (whole or in pieces, but with as much pulp attached as possible) of the orange into the reduction and continue stirring for about 10-15 minutes.  Turn off the heat and let the mixture cool to room temperature before adding all the contents to an air-tight container.  Let the slurry sit in in the fridge for about 2 hours before straining the excess cinnamon and orange rind through some cheese cloth and into another sealable container.

While I’d imagine this would do well in an old fashioned or other whiskey/rum based drinks, I was looking for more recipes to tinker with and stumbled across the appropriately named “naked skin,” (it’s not actually appropriate; it just made me ‘tee-hee’ like a 12-year-old) while perusing the Esquire Hosting Guide (circa 1949) that my grandfather had given me a while back.  ‘Man knows how to ‘tend.

Whiskey Skin (I’ll take any other less innuendo-heavy suggestions)

• 2 tsp cinnamon-orange simple syrup

• 1 jigger bourbon

• Hot water

• Orange peel

Add all ingredients in order to a 6oz tea or coffee cup (float the orange peel on top).

Not very conducive to the weather at the moment, sure…but it really does make a great digestif or nightcap.  I recommend bourbon over rye since it’s sweeter and mixes well with the syrup to - I swear to you people - make this taste almost exactly like chamomile. Try it. Try rye with it, too if you wanna.

Toodles for now. Enjoy your toddys.

Oh, Snap!

The high in Los Angeles was 99ºF on Monday (or 37ºC, to the rest of the world).  It is hot. Not, “delightful-sip-a-mint-julep-on-the-porch” hot, but, “I’m-going-to-punch-that-kid-in-the-fact-for-his-ICEE,” hot.  So…in lieu of a pleasant, refreshing mint julep (or beating children senseless over ice and syrup), I’ve concocted a slightly more intense, yet still refreshing(!) cocktail that tastes oddly more like winter than it does the spring (if only to overcompensate for the summertime heat).  Holla.

Oh, Snap!

Ingredients:

•  1.5 oz  Junipero Gin

•  Fresh ginger root

•  1/4 slice tangerine

•  Naturally sweetened ginger ale (eg. Fever-Tree, Vavo, etc.)

Skin and cut a golf-ball-sized chunk of ginger in half and slice it into 3-4 fine wedges and leave the other unsliced half for later.  Next, add the sliced ginger to a mixing glass and muddle - along with about 0.5 oz of the gin - until you notice the gin becoming opaque. Add ice to the mixing glass and use a zester-grater to grate the remaining ginger half over the muddled ginger/gin slurry.  If a lot of the ginger sticks to the other side of grater, just stick it tip-down into the mixing glass and pour the remainder of the gin over it to rinse the rest in.

Now cut your tangerine quarter in half and squeeze one eighth into the mixing glass and stir (not shake) all the ingredients.  Strain into a low ball glass with fresh ice and top off with ginger ale (note: the larger slices of ginger which you muddled should not get through the strainer, but the zesty little bits definitely should). Garnish with the other tangerine eighth.

Phew.

Don’t worry: a lot of that anal procedural nonsense is in regards to the aesthetics of the drink. I also like the feeling of being able to ‘bite’ into the grated ginger bits that float on top with the ice, which you only get via the grating. That being said, I’m sure you could circumvent a lot of my (probably) unnecessary modus operandi and get just as delicious a mix using your own imagination.  Cheers!

If it’s Old, it’s new to me

Old Potrero 18th Century Spirit

[Sigh]

Few things in this world are as absolute as time, traffic on the 405, and my affinity towards Anchor Distilling.  Aside from my year-long quest to find their Old Foghorn Barley Wine, I’ve made it a point to keep an eye out for the only 2 remaining small-batch spirits produced at the Anchor Distillery which I have not yet tried; namely the Old Potrero 18th Century Spirit and Old Potrero Hotalings.  I recently picked up a bottle of the former at Wally’s “on sale” at about $80, a good 20 dollars more than O.P. 19th Century.  It should be noted, however, that I later saw the same exact thing at the Winehouse - not for sale - for $56…ten less than the 19th Century.

Wally’s = crooks.  Moving on.

Old Potrero 18th Century Spirit is the product of a 100% rye mash that is copper pot-distilled in the same manner as it’s older siblings. What distinguishes this particular spirit from the rest of it’s brethren is the fact that it is aged in toasted - not charred - oak barrels for a total of 2 years and 3 months.*  Interesting to note is the fact that in order to be called a ‘whiskey,’ any grain-based spirit has to be aged for a minimum of 2 years in new charred oak barrels. So because of this one procedural outlier, O.P. 18th Century cannot legally be called a rye…nor a whiskey, hence, “Old Potrero 18th Century Spirit.”  Technicalities.  I consider it a whiskey.

Due to the toasted oak aging, O.P. 18th has a noticeably lighter hue than that of the 19th.  When coupling this with it’s impressive 62.6% abv, I found myself worrying that it would lack in character when compared to it’s older cousins; all heat and no flavor.  I was almost right.

Being a bit of a masochist, I consider the 18th Century to be really special…in that it’s a challenge.  The toasted oak imparts much more delicate, earthy characteristics than the 19th Century which are actually quite pleasant.  The challenge presents itself by cloaking this character behind a 125.2 proof screen of angry bees.  Even when watered down (5:1), the spice and heat is almost overwhelming if you’re not breathing through your mouth simultaneously.  Regardless, the nose is similar to that of the 19th Century: intensely aromatic, with notes of spearmint, turpentine, corriander, and…oh right; bees.

Unfortunately, once your nose has a chance to equilibrate to the aroma, you’re going to have to work equally hard to condition your palate.  A few sips and interesting faces into my first glass began to reveal surprisingly smooth notes of honey and raw maple syrup flowing slowly along the tongue.  While the calescent, arid vapor whipping around the rest of the mouth leaves little room for tasting anything else immediately, the earthy characteristics uncover themselves on the finish; drier and less rounded than that of the 19th Century with familiar notes of leather and tobacco, but complimented by some brighter, spicier accents of radish and white pepper.

Despite the language I may have used, I don’t want anyone to get the impression that this is somehow a ‘bad’ whiskey.  As I said before, it is a challenge; not for the faint-hearted.  I’d recommend anyone feeling adventurous to try it if/when they get the chance, if only for the experience. I will certainly be keeping a bottle stocked with me when available…for those special occassions (and not necessarily when I’ll need to be alert afterward).  Cheers!  ($56/0.75L**)

* O.P. 19 = 3 years, charred; O.P. Hoatlings = 11 years, charred.

** ($80 on sale @ Wally’s)

Holden, would you taste this for me, please?

 (rī)¹ Whiskey

Even though I am ashamed to admit it, I’m sure that the labeling had something to do with my interest in this recent release by Beam Global Spirits.  Aside from the immediate tickling of my geek-tooth, I was rather skeptical of this one; Latin phonetics? parenthesis? superscripts?  Global says that their label is “simple,” but I don’t have to consult a marketing handbook to determine that it’s almost entirely for the image (albeit a very aesthetically pleasing one) that will make it stand out in the hip bars; beckoning to any unsuspecting consumer.

I’m so judgmental.

Lucky for all the hip, non-privvy rye drinkers out there, this whiskey has considerably more to it than a spiffy label.  After trying it for the first time on a whim at Crane’s Tavern in Hollywood (a surprisingly fine whiskey selection in the back room), the experience convinced me to buy a bottle of my own to savor (ie. when I wasn’t in the least appealing part of LA ever invented…kind of makes me partial to hating most things, even if I would otherwise like them…read above paragraph).

Neat: Intense spice and pepper from the rye on the nose with hints of boysenberry and salted peanuts.  On the palate, (rī)¹ is equally aggressive, aromatic and spicy; dried apricot and charred oak which rounds off to a much more buttery texture that is accompanied by lingering tones of brown sugar, cinnamon and caramel.

Supposedly this whiskey makes for a great ‘new’ classic Manhattan cocktail.  Now, while I don’t believe that  (rī)¹ has ‘reinvented’ rye whiskey as many of the adverts tend to say, I will admit that it adds a new twist to what classic ryes on the market have to offer, and I’m never one to complain about adding a little variety wherever it may be found.  (Edit - 02/17/09 - makes a damn fine Sazerac).  (~ $40-50/0.75L)

Charbay Hop-Flavored Whiskey (2nd Release)

In recent weeks, the Karakasevic distillers in Napa Valley have gained almost as much of my admiration for their talent and experimental endeavors to make quality, unique, and always delicious small batch liquors as has Fritz Maytag of Anchor Distillery.  As what could be considered a “special project,” Charbay’s Hop Flavored Whiskey was a result of distilling 20,000 gallons of actual, bottle-ready pilsner beer, as opposed to a sour mash, or “distillers beer” (the non-carbonated, unprocessed and heterogeneous result of the first typical fermentation step in whiskey).  One copper pot still, extra hops (hence the “Hop Flavored” on the bottle) and 25 days of vigilant observation later, they wound up with 1000 gallons - or 20 barrels - of a markedly novel spirit.  David Schneiderman* of SWS was generous enough to let me try a bit of their new second release - the 3rd to 7th barrel - of what is now my favorite (and somewhat remorseful, at $325 PER) bottle of American whiskey.

Neat:  Bright, spicy and floral bouquet on the nose, reminiscent of aged brandy, which is almost misleading until the first sip.  Sweet, smooth and delicate texture, with the hops and maltiness obvious, yet not at all overpowering.  A good thing, as it leaves plenty of room to savor the bread, honey and toasted pear that completely embrace the palate and linger long after the first sip.  David will disagree with me that there is a noticeable aftertaste of roasted coffee beans that linger (perhaps it is the hops?), but regardless…the overall effect remains the same.

This release is fantastic, and while it’s not exactly within my PERSONAL budget, I’m extremely glad to have tried and known it and will be eagerly awaiting the 3rd release (please find me out of grad school with a real income by then…oy).   ($325/0.75L)

(First Frisco, then Colorado, now NorCal again…one must wonder what Tennessee thinks of all this).

*Special thanks to the Schneidermans for the lovely hospitality, and to David in particular for the photos!