Monday 15 August 2011

My Favourite Daiquiris

Ask your bartender for his favourite cocktail and I'd wager that at least half the responses would be "Daiquiri, straight up". The Martini may be more evocative, the Manhattan more sophisticated, but no drink is so beloved behind the bar as the Daiquiri, the peasant prince of rum cocktails. There are good reasons for this widespread celebration: rum and lime form one of the most congenial matches ever formulated, a well-made version is simultaneously refreshing and complex, and, perhaps most importantly for a tired bartender, you can make it in about 25 seconds.
There are essentially three classes of daiquiri, divided not by form but by quality: one is the frosted, syrup-infused rum slushy that has multiplied like a virus throughout the family restaurants and dive-bars of America. These we'll ignore. The second category consists of respectable rum sours, served in any way, into which I'd place juice-heavy straight-up versions or well-made fresh fruit Daiquiris. The final, and my preferred, category contains the serious, rum-focused cocktails that descend from Embury's 8-2-1 Daiquiri from 1948. The abiding principle uniting this disparate class is that the modifiers, the citrus and the sweetener, should not be equal co-partners in the drink but instead exist to temper and accentuate the qualities of good rum, much like the sugar and bitters in an Old-Fashioned. A good rule: if it's going down with easy deliciousness, then you've got a good rum and lime sour. When each stinging cold sip reveals the rich, bittersweet flavours of the rum, before imperceptibly retreating into a mouth-wetting finish of slightly sugared lime juice, then you've got yourself a true Daiquiri. And that's something to treasure.

So, how then do you tell them apart?   Here are the archetypal examples of each category.

The 'Rum Sour' Daiquiri


Daiquiri straight up

2 shots/50ml rum (Havana Club 3yr)
1 shot/25ml lime juice
1/2/12.5ml shot gomme syrup (2:1)

Shaken hard and fine strained into a chilled cocktail glass. No garnish.

Plenty of lime juice, balanced with plenty of sweetness. Chilled and Now, don't get me wrong, a drink made to this recipe will be delightful, incredibly refreshing and, on a hot beach, almost always the right choice (particularly, on the rocks). But it doesn't quite capture the essence of a Daiquiri.

Here's the classic:

Embury's Daiquiri


2 shots Cuban rum (Havana Club Anejo Blanco)
1/2 shot lime juice
1/4 shot gomme syrup

This is very much the sign of a serious rum drinker. Like many of Embury's formulae, it's dry and alcoholic by modern tastes, but once you've worked up to it (and believe me, no-one really prefers it at first), it's a highly rewarding drink.

Here are my slightly more forgiving proportions for a true Daiquiri.

My 'True' Daiquiri


2.5 shots/~62.5ml rum (Havana Club 3yr)
3/4 shot/~17.5ml lime juice
1/3 shot/ gomme syrup

Shaken and fine strained into a chilled cocktail glass.




These specifications look punctilious, but, by God, do they deliver. A balance between Embury's super-dry 8-2-1 and Simon Difford's revised 10-3-2 proportions, when made to this recipe, your daiquiri should have just enough lime to accent the rum and just sugar enough to take the edge off the lime. Where the rum sour version exists for blazing, white beaches, this is the cocktail for the languorous sunset that follows, as the heat of the day dissipates and the busy sounds of the shore subside to the rocking of the waves. Where the former throws itself forth into the bounty of the day, the latter sits in easeful meditation.

There are, of course, countless cousins and variations within these families of Daiquiris; here are some of the best of each:



Rum Sours


Honey and Basil Daiquiri


2 shots aged rum (Havana Club Anejo Especial or 7yr)
3/4 shot lime juice
1/2 shot honey water
4 basil leaves

Shake and fine strain into chilled coupe. Garnish with a basil leaf.

This one blurs the boundaries between the two styles: it's very classic in concept and flavour, but the modifiers are less subordinate to the base than in a true Daiquiri. Highly drinkable and delicious, but not overtly focused on the rum.

Nuclear Daiquiri


1.5 shots Wray Nephew Overproof
1 shot lime juice
3/4 shot green chartreuse
1/4 shot Velvet Falernum

Shake and fine strain into a chilled coupe. Garnish with lime and approach with caution

This one is, to an extent, 'about the rum'. However, it's not really interested in developing the nuances of a fine spirit; rather, it starts with a rock-star of a rum, half malevolence half scruffy seduction, and then goes looking for some equally disreputable and potent friends. Fiery, full-flavoured and more dangerous than poking a bear while wearing a suit made of steaks.  A heavy metal Daiquiri to Embury's jazz.


'True' Daiquiris


Floridita Daiquiri 1

2 shots white rum (1.5 Havana 3yrs, 1/2 Rhum Barbancourt)
1/2 shot lime juice
1/2 shot grapefruit juice
1/4 shot gomme
1/4-1/8 shot maraschino (Luxardo)

Shaken and fine strained into a chilled coupette. Garnish with a lime wedge.

A great drink. Individually, grapefruit and maraschino are difficult to love at firs, yet paradoxically, together they're instantly charming. This drink, or at least something very similar, was first mixed at La Floridita in Havana by Constantino Ribalaigua, one of the great masters of the Daiquiri. The use of Cuban rum is, of course, mandatory, but a little splash of rhum agricole (one of my favourite tweaks in a rum cocktail) develops the funk of the maraschino, producing if not a more harmonious, certainly a more beguiling blend.

Floridita Daiquiri 2

2 shots white rum (Havana Club 3yr)
1/2 shot lime juice
1/2 sweet vermouth (Martini & Rosso)
1/4 shot creme de cacao (Marie Brizard)
1/8 shot grenadine

Perhaps my favourite ever Daiquiri. There is a related drink, the Mulata, using only rum, cacao and lime, but this is a serious improvement. While the Mulata tastes predominately of rum with a hint of cocoa, the vermouth and a touch of grenadine add a wonderful richness to the Floridita. Like its counterpart, the second Floridita is a delicate balancing act; both feature powerful ingredients, maraschino and cacao, that, to paraphrase Ted Haigh, have to be used"like machine guns": sparingly. It's also one of the rare cocktails where theoretically better ingredients will sometimes fall flat: Mozart Dry, a great unsweetened chocolate distillate, simply doesn't quite work, and, believe me, I've tried almost every vermouth going in this drink and good ol' dependable Martini & Rosso is the best here. Definitely an evening Daiquiri, perfectly suited to slow sipping.

Hemingway Special or Papa Doble


4 shots white rum (3 shots Havana Anejo Blanco, 1 shot Trois Rivieres Blanc)
1.25 shots lime juice
1 shots grapefruit juice
1/2 shot maraschino
1/2 shot gomme (optional)

Either shake with crushed ice or blend with cubed ice, and pour unstrained into chilled coupe. Garnish with lime wedge.

Another Ribalaigua recipe in disguise, this oversized Daiquiri was created and named for Ernest Hemingway - hardened drinker, crappy author. A diabetic, he took his cocktails with as little sugar as possible. A manly sort (read The Old Man and The Sea or Death in the Afternoon, it's like being pummeled by a giant, anthropomorphic jockstrap), he also took his cocktails as doubles. Hence, Papa Doble. It's essentially a double Floridita served frozen. Most commentaries on the Hemingway will tell you to adjust the drink to include a touch of sugar and, in all fairness, this is probably correct. A Hemingway sans sugar is certainly an experience every drinker should enjoy, but no-one expects you to do it regularly. The original drink specified even less sweetness, with only 6 drops of maraschino. If you enjoy eating limes like oranges, go ahead. With a little extra sugar, however, this is superb cocktail, certainly one of the best ever frozen drinks.


Daiquiri de Jerez

1 shot white rum (Havana Club 3 yr)
1 shot golden rum (Appleton 8)
3/4 shot lime juice
1/2 shot Amontillado sherry
1/4 shot orgeat syrup
1/8 shot grenadine

Shaken and fine strained into a coupe. Garnish with a flamed orange twist.

The imaginatively named Daiquiri of Sherry, this is my own modest contribution to rum-focused Daiquiris. On paper, it looks pretty busy, but every ingredient is there to accentuate the rum. The sherry adds a nuttiness sweetness, complementing the almond syrup and the flavours of the Appleton, while the Havana Club cuts through the richness with  its own grassy freshness. I am pretty damn biased, but it is pretty damn good.

Tuesday 9 August 2011

Raw Deal: Egg Whites in the Mixed Drink

People nowadays are a cautious lot. Salmonella, secondhand smoke, Piers Morgan - the world teems with hidden dangers. I'm even a little scared of sitting opposite the elderly on trains - what if they cough in my direction? Really, it's no wonder the fashion for paranoia has caught on so well. Aside from the hysterical media coverage that floats behind any new scare, I'm sure this has some correlation with the irritating, modern propensity to live forever. In the good old days, people just died all over the shop and no-one really took notice. When everything could and did kill you - a splinter, the winter, stealing a sheep - panicking at every possible threat would start to be a little exhausting. Nowadays, from our cushy synthetic ivory towers, anything unprocessed and organic can seem to carry the terror of contagion. However, even within our neurotic utopia (neutopia?), it's time to see fresh egg whites returned to the bar. If a complete pussy like me will happily drink down three or four disguised in a cocktail, then you can too.
In my childhood, the idea of consuming a raw egg was roughly equivalent to falling in a lake or cutting off a thumb - the height of peril. These days, steeped in cocktail lore, the raw egg is an indispensable and beloved agent - it smoothes and elevates a mediocre sour, adds depth and body to complex aromatics and makes possible that most lauded example of Louisiana alchemy, the Ramos Gin Fizz. There are, of course, two major applications of the egg within cocktails, the frothy meringue provided by the whites and the rich, silky flips produced by yolks, but for today we'll focus on the former.
One of the most common concerns to arrest when first broaching the topic of eggs in cocktails is that of flavour. Most people don't salivate at the thought of combining scrambled eggs and whiskey (though, if you do, you've made it into my worldwide list of excellence) However, the egg white really plays no portion in the flavour of the drink - in fact, it's practically tasteless. If you've ever had an egg white omelette, you'll know this to be true. Instead, an egg white, when shaken, provides a smooth foam that adds wonderfully to texture and mouth-feel. The science behind this is fairly simple: an egg white is predominately protein; when shaken or blended, the protein is denatured or unravelled, thus creating a stiff foam. You've probably witnessed or made use of this property thousands of times before in baking. You might also know that an an acid, such as cream of tartar, helps to stabilise the foam; in the cocktail, lemon or lime juice, play a similar role, a happy coincidence since sours benefit so beautifully from its presence. The Pisco Sour, the Silver Fizz, the Clover Club are good drinks raised to elysian heights through the use of egg whites.
As for the possible dangers, there is apparently a 1 in 20000 chance of an egg being infected with salmonella according to the FDA.  Use only the white and the risk will be smaller. Use free range and the risk will be smaller still and, based on my experience, you'll get superior results. Obviously, store your eggs in the fridge. Finally, the fact that you're shaking it up with a dose of disinfecting alcohol (booze, it's the gift that keeps on giving) should alleviate most lingering concerns. For the truly timorous, there are pasteurised and powdered egg whites, which have absolutely zero chance of infection, but I'd rather go without than use them. I've never tried the latter, but regarding the former, they contribute nicely to mouth-feel, but tend not to provide the long-lasting, impressive foam. If you're still worried about fresh, personally I'd eschew egg whites entirely. For the more adventurous, read on for some recipes.

Ramos Gin Fizz


The king of egg white cocktails, this venerable fizz is transformed by both cream and egg white into a delicious, silky froth - almost an aromatic gin milkshake. Created by Henry C Ramos in 1888 New Orleans, the drink became so popular on carnival days that whole teams of shakers had to be hired to cycle the drink over 20 minutes and produce the requisite texture. Besides this being time-consuming and exhausting, one would have assumed this would have lead to a very diluted drink. Fortunately, the dry shake technique (a first shake sans ice) emulsifies the egg and cream beautifully without dilution. Then  a second good, hard shake with ice completes the process and chills to perfection.

2 shots gin (The sweeter Old Tom variety would have been traditional; Plymouth gin is a good substitute, as is Genever, the malty character of which works well with cream)
1/2 shot lime juice
1/2 shot lemon juice
3/4 shot gomme syrup (2:1)
1/2 shot milk
1/2 shot cream
1 egg white
3 drops orange flower water
2 drops vanilla extract or cardamom tincture (not traditional and completely optional)
Soda

Dry shake like a demon or blend the ingredients to a frothy consistency, and shake again with ice. When dry shaking, placing a shaker spring in with the ingredients and omitting the sugar until the cold shake helps to ensure a good foam. Pour an ounce and a half of soda into a chilled fizz glass without ice. Strain the contents of the shaker over the soda and add a couple of scant drops of orange flower water on top for an aromatic garnish (egg white can have a slightly less than appealing aroma, so all drinks containing it should have some sort of aromatic distraction)

Clover Club

One of the best uses of egg white in one of the most approachable and rewarding classic drinks. Traditionally made with raspberry syrup, grenadine is often substituted but I've found the tartness of fresh muddled raspberries to be the best of all. This version includes dry vermouth, adding a dash of herbal complexity that underlines its status as a classic. However, the primary notes of the drink are berries, citrus and smooth gin, topped with a thick raspberry meringue from the egg white.

1.5 shots gin (Plymouth)
5 raspberries muddled (or 3/4 shot raspberry syrup, in which case lose the gomme)
1/2 shot gomme syrup (2:1)
3/4 shot lemon juice
1/2 shot Noilly Prat dry vermouth
1 egg white

Muddle the raspberries, add the other ingredients and dry shake. Shake again with ice and fine strain into a chilled coupe. Express an orange twist over the foam and discard. Garnish with a raspberry on the rim.



The Alamagoozlum


Not just an obscure cocktail but a positively esoteric one, the Alamagoozlum seems to possess the perfect pedigree for an enthusiast's drink - rare ingredients, bold, challenging flavours and an improbable yet true back-story. The cocktail was supposedly invented by the illustrious financier and industrialist JP Morgan - yes, that one. The only time I've seen it on a menu is at the excellent Hawksmoor in London, which seems to have included it simply because it can. The drink features a rare example of the use of an egg white outside the sours category - here, the white is indispensable in smoothing out the strongly flavoured, heavily alcoholic constituents of the drink. I've slightly tweaked the drink by using Jamie Boudreau's innovative 'angostura scorch' technique, to toast the froth and add an aroma to complement the large quantity of bitters in the drink.

2 shots genever (Bols)
2 shots mineral water (or to taste)
1.5 shots yellow or green chartreuse
1.5 shots Jamaican rum (Wray Nephew Overproof)
1.5 shots gomme syrup (2:1)
1/2 shot angostura bitters
1/2 shot grand marnier
1 egg white

Dry shake, then shake again with ice and fine strain into a chilled coupe (perhaps three or four coupes to share). For the angostura flame, place a mixture half angostura, half overproof rum into an oil mister and carefully spray through a flame onto the egg white foam. Garnish with a pineapple wedge.

Friday 5 August 2011

Smirk Drinks: 5 Less than Impressive Cocktails

Whichever side of the bar you're on, dignity and mutual respect are indispensable. A good bartender should never make a customer feel embarrassed by their drink order (and correspondingly a customer should not treat a bartender like their personal booze jockey). Cocktail quality and innovation are important, but for some people, a drink is just a fucking drink and that's okay. That said, there are certain cocktails so dismal, so irrevocably associated with high-end douchebaggery that even the most welcoming barkeep can only half-suppress a smirk as he makes them. We are, after all, only human. However, even these should be made well and with a smile, even if it's one with a hint of irony. These are the five worst offenders, alongside a recipe to make them in the best way possible and an alternative drink with similar flavours but which are less, erm, wrist-cuttingly abhorrent.

1) Apple Martini
One of the most popular and depressing orders in existence - the favourite of those attempting to adopt an air of chic sophistication. In fact,  As for the drink itself, the great flaw is the nigh impossibility to transfer fresh apple flavour to a cocktail. I once witnessed a bartender attempting to muddle a chopped apple to extremely little effect but the Appletini is predominately flavoured with liqueurs, which are generally pretty poor. A good rule is to stick away from any product with a name including the word "sour". There are a few decent liqueurs on the market, including Giffard and the ever-dependable Briottet, but even then the Appletini still has the problem of being a one note drink: effectively fortified apple liqueur. I've seen and sampled about a million appletini recipes, and they all taste like tangy apple syrup, of lesser or greater quality. A better choice would be either the Fuego Manzana, a tequila sour with chilli and apple, or more simply the Tatanka. The latter, a simple drink favoured in Poland, pairs apple juice and Zubrowka, a bison grass flavoured vodka, to great effect. Zubrowka sits uneasily in the vodka category, possessing a discernible and enjoyable taste. Ostensibly just a vodka and apple, the Tatanka succeeds on the basis of the unique flavour of Zubrowka, a mixture of woodruff, coconut and herbal almond, which works beautifully with apple.

Apple Martini

1.5 shots vodka
1/2 shot lemon juice
1/4 shot gomme syrup
1/2 shot briottet apple liqueur
3/4 shot pressed apple juice

Shake and strain, garnish with apple wedge (unsurprisingly)

Tatanka

2 shots zubrowka
2.5 shots pressed apple juice
1/4 shot lemon juice (optional)
1/4 shot ginger juice (optional)

Shake and strain over rocks.

2) Pornstar Martini
A cousin to the Appletini, the Pornstar is actually quite a fun concept for 5 seconds: a shot of champagne, followed by a passionfruit vodka sour and half of a fresh fruit. Then you drink one. The Pornstar Martini, based on passionfruit liqueur and vanilla vodka, encapsulates all of the tedious excess of eighties drinks repackaged in a martini glass and minus the inherent, endearing frivolity. Whereas a Sex on the Beach, sugary and bland though it is, at least conveyed a sense of "what the hell" fun, the Pornstar swaps this giddy kitsch for a kind of joyless, smutty bling, tinged with faux-sophistication. When a flash idiot with a fake tan states that they, "love cocktails", this is what they're talking about. In its place, I suggest the Hurricane, a sweet Tiki style drink from New Orleans, which also contains vanilla and passionfruit but happily won't corrode your soul.

Pornstar Martini


2 shots vanilla vodka (Stoli Vanilla)
1/2 shot vanilla syrup
1/4 shot passionfruit syrup
1/2 shot lime juice
The flesh of one passionfruit/ 1 shot passionfruit puree
Champagne

Shake first 5 ingredients with ice and strain into cocktail glass. Float a half passionfruit and serve with a shot of champagne.

Hurricane


1 shot white rum (Havana Club)
1 shot dark rum (Gosling's)
3/4 shot lime juice
1/2 shot galliano
1/2 passionfruit syrup
1 shot orange juice
2 shots pineapple juice
2 dash angostura bitters


Shake and strain over rocks in a hurricane glass. Garnish with orange, cherry and pineapple, plus an inside out cocktail umbrella (clever, no?)

3) Dirty Vodka Martini
The only cocktail on the list, which actually has some sort of relation to the original Martini and yet (perhaps because of this) it besmirches its honourable relation more than any other. Although I'm willing to abide the existence of a regular Vodka Martini (though I wouldn't necessarily bother drinking one), this brine-laced abomination is unjustifiable. Even more so than the drinks above, this cocktail marks out a pretence to style.Especially when ordered "extra dry". Vodka and olive brine: it defies explanation. In fact, there is no way to make this drink decently, even by its own standards. No recipes here.

4) Sex on the beach
As aforementioned, the Sex on the beach is too preposterous to truly resent as much as its sleeker, smugger descendants. The internal reaction to an order nowadays is more one of incredulity than disdain. Nonetheless it's very much the original embarrassing cocktail, so it certainly earns its inclusion. In its place, I recommend the Delicious Sour, one of the first award-winning cocktails from the nineteenth century. It's fruity, it's refreshing and it's even got peach liqueur.

Sex on the beach


2 shots vodka
1 shot creme de peche de vigne
1.5 shots cranberry juice
1.5 shots fresh orange juice
1/2 shot lime juice

Shake and strain over rocks in a highball. Garnish with orange wheel and pineapple wedge... and cherry and umbrella...  and lime and...

The Delicious Sour


2 shots calvados or Laird's Bonded Applejack
1 shots creme de peche de vigne
1 egg white
1/2 shot lime juice
1/2 shot lemon juice
1/4 shot sugar syrup (2:1)
Soda

Dry shake to froth up the egg white and then shake again with ice. Strain over rocks in a highball, add a dash of soda and garnish with mint and a cherry.

5) Tequila, Salt, Lime
Ok, technically not a cocktail, but it's certainly an aberration at the bar and, considering the inevitable ceremony that goes on (one drinker gamely refuses tequila for about 4 seconds, another revving everyone up like they're about to leap out of a jet into a warzone), perhaps the most annoying. There's nothing wrong with the odd round of shots; there's nothing really too wrong with twelve rounds of shots, but the ludicrous performance of licked hands and the wincing bite into a lime wedge is truly unconscionable. It's a bizarre tradition, book-ending an implicitly devil-may-care, swaggering action with techniques designed to minimise the experience of the alcohol as utterly as possible. They don't do it in Mexico, y'know. The usual justification for the whole fiasco is that it's a necessity to get bad tequila down. Here's an idea: stop drinking bad tequila. Mixto tequila (any tequila without the 100% agave certification) can legally contain e as little as 51% agave distillate - the remainder generally being filled out by cheaper alcohols. That's largely why tequila has a reputation for inducing hangovers. A decent 100% blanco tequila can be shot without salt and lime. You could even try sipping it.

Tequila Shot


Shot glasses
100% agave tequila (El Jimador Blanco is my choice here, it's reasonably priced, tasty but not so complex as to be wasted in a shot)

Pour. Drink. And, just to prove that tequila has a life beyond shots and margaritas, follow it with this slow sipper.

Tequila Old Fashioned


2.5 shots Ocho Reposado
1/2 shot agave syrup
2 dash xocolatl mole bitters
1 dash Angostura Orange butters

Stir slowly over ice in an old-fashioned glass. Garnish with a lime twist.

PS

Possibly the one surprising absence from my list would be the much-derided Cosmopolitan. Although it may be over-ordered and often badly made, it's certainly not a terrible cocktail. In truth, it's quite a neat drink - pleasantly citrussy and sharp, with plenty of complex orange notes from the Cointreau and flamed garnish. So here's the Cosmopolitan restored.

1.5 shots Absolut Citron
3/4 shot Cointreau
1/2 shot lime juice
3/4 shot cranberry juice

Shake and strain into a coupette. Garnish with flamed orange zest. It's really quite good.

PS Stop ordering Lychee Martinis too