I’m back from Europe and getting ready for Art of the Cocktail next weekend. No, I’m not talking about the book by Philip Collins. Nor am I talking about this blog by Darcy O’Neil. I’m also not referring to Anthony Caporale’s long-running video series.

No, this Art of the Cocktail is a new cocktail-centric event in Victoria, British Columbia. Distillery ambassadors, representatives and lounges will be offering tastes of their products or creating sophisticated cocktails for sampling. Wander around the Tasting Room sampling the cocktails that appeal to you while catching tips from mixologists (I guess this is where I come in), authors and reps. Take in ongoing demonstrations on the side stage that will run throughout the Tastings. One-dollar-each tasting tickets may be purchased on the website and are only available in advance - no tickets will be available at the door.

I’ll be there teaching you how to make your own cocktail mixers like ginger beer and tonic water in person, so if you’re in the Pacific Northwest please do stop by what promises to be a great event. Oh, and I’d be remiss not to mention the immense involvement in this event by the hardest working bartender in the business, Mr. Shawn Soole. Try to watch this video of my friend Shawn, if you can get past the fake English accent:

See you at the show.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Art of the Cocktail

I’m leaving in about an hour to head to the airport and ship off to Europe, so if you have any interest in learning more about what a small-town bartender does from hour to hour as he stumbles across a continent in search of the perfect cocktail, then please by all means follow along with my Twitter feed.

I’ll be trying to make it to London in time to meet up with legendary bloggers Chuck Taggart of The Gumbo Pages and Jay Hepburn of Oh Gosh! for cocktails, and then mixing up tasty drinks with Boca Loca cachaça at RumFest UK all weekend.

From there I’ll head to Finland to talk about Boca Loca and demonstrate its tasty versatility in Helsinki for two days, and hopefully search out legendary Finnish bartender Timo Siitonen for a cocktail or two.

And finally, we’ll wrap things up in Paris by visiting even more bars, haggling for Tintin memorabilia, and sobering up before the long flight home.

Now, all of this is predicated on my finding a reasonable deal on a European SIM card for my phone, but assuming all goes well I will be posting regular updates to the account.

Oh, and if you’re in Portland this weekend, be sure to check out the Great American Distillers Festival, featuring a mixology competition sponsored in part by the Oregon Bartenders Guild. I’ll be missing my chance to cast judgement on the entries alongside Robert Hess, but I’ll be there in spirit as I sip cane spirits with some of the finest bartenders in Europe. See you all when I get back!

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Follow Along with My European Misadventures

You may or may not have known this, but I like making cocktails out of wine. Or things that were once wine. Or things that were made from wine. However you want to say it, I like making cocktails out of wine. So when I saw that there was a cocktail competition coming up that called for the use of sherry (a type of wine made from white grapes grown around the town of Jerez, Spain and fortified with brandy), I was like, “I’m all over this.”

So I reached for the Morgenthaler Standby Formula book and grabbed this old chestnut. First, I bolstered the sherry with something bitter, put in a touch of something sweet, and finished it with something absinth-y. Then I dumped that one down the sink and tried about ten other combinations. The result is this cocktail, The Solera Club.

I like wine-based cocktails, because they don’t punch you in the face the way, say, a 94-proof gin-based cocktail is going to. This means these drinks are going to be more versatile, and drinkable on more occasions than a big spirit-driven monster. A lot of my customers like to end the night with one of these low-proof sippers, but I take a more European tack myself and delight in them during the late afternoon, noshing on Marcona almonds and watching the sidewalk traffic without getting falling-down drunk.

So in the spirit of early autumnal afternoon sipping and enjoying the sunshine while it still lingers, here’s the recipe:

2 oz sherry (cream for a sweeter, rounder drink, dry sherry such as an amontillado for a more drier, more austere drink)
1 oz Cynar
½ oz creme de peche
1 tsp absinthe

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. If you’re going the cream sherry route, I’d recommend garnishing with a lemon twist as I’ve done here. If you’re using the drier, nuttier sherries, try using an orange twist.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

The Solera Club

Hey Bartender

I went to the bar last night with a coworker, whom I was treating to drinks on my tab. When we got the bill, it was very high, so we asked to have an itemized list of the drinks we were charged for. That’s when another bartender told us that some girl had been charging Jack and Cokes on my tab, without my knowledge.

Well, long story short, our bartender, a young girl, came right back WITHOUT an itemized list, but with a smaller bill, excluding the Jacks, I guess. While outside, her friends said, “Do you think that girl (me) knows that we drank on her tab?”

So, now I am very leery of starting tabs, especially at my local, favorite bar. Got any suggestions to prevent this from happening in the future?

Thanks,

Kat

Hey Kat

It sucks, doesn’t it? When you enter into a trust-based relationship with a professional, there is an unspoken agreement that, to me at least, feels somewhat binding. What you’re saying, in effect, when you hand your card over to a bartender at the beginning of the night is, “Hey, bartender. I promise not to get so wasted that I leave this bar without signing my tab, stiffing you on the tip, or arguing about every single drink I promised to buy.”

What the bartender is saying is this: “Hey, customer. I promise not to be a gigantic motherfucking douchebag and charge you for a bunch of shit that you didn’t ask for.”

Kat, my dear, your bartender reneged on the contract. So, yeah, I’ve got a couple of suggestions to prevent this from happening to you in the future:

1. Don’t ever set foot in that bar ever again. I’m serious. A bar that can’t be trusted with a simple thing like your tab can’t be trusted with your safety. If they can’t keep a girl from charging her drinks to a stranger’s tab, do you really think the bartenders at this establishment are vigilant enough to prevent someone from slipping something in your drink, diffusing a potentially dangerous confrontational scene or handling any of the other potentially scary situations that can present themselves to female patrons in bars? My advice is to steer clear of this joint, and any other establishments owned by the same proprietors.

2. Only carry cash and never run a tab. Yeah, it sucks. Never mind the fact that you have to find an ATM, you also have to be walking around with a bunch of cash in your pocket. But think of it this way: even if you were to be robbed of your sixty dollars, or even if it fell out of your pocket onto the street or bar floor, wouldn’t that one time still be cheaper than letting everyone in the bar walk all over your tab?

3. Print this post out and hand it to the bartender in question. Then I’ll address the bartender personally. You ready? Okay, here we go:

Dear Bartender I’ve Never Met:

Hey, dumbshit. Some of us are trying to make a career out of this. And you’re fucking it up for the rest of us who actually take our jobs seriously. Did you really think it was okay to just throw a bunch of shit on my friend Kat’s tab without checking with her first? Do you think that anyone else, in any other business in the world, would let that kind of shit slide?

Here’s what advice I’m giving Kat: First, I’ve suggested that she never, ever set foot in your bar again. You’re reckless, unsafe, and a disgrace to the profession. However, if she decides not to heed my advice and does happen to pop in for a drink, I’m recommending that she pays for each drink, with cash, each time. And when she does, I want you to know that she’s only doing it because she doesn’t trust you.

Good luck to both of you. My readers and I all know you’re going to need it.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Ask Your Bartender: Running a Tab

It’s six o’clock at night in New Orleans and I’m sweating, hard. Not because of the heat outside, but because I’m inside, on a stage with a microphone in my hand. Eight of the best bartenders in the country are lined up behind me, hundreds of people are seated in front of me, and everyone in the room is staring at me. And at this moment all I can think about is my near-debilitating case of stagefright and how much I hate speaking in public. So I pause for a second and think to myself:

How in the hell did I end up here?

To answer that, we have to go back a year, to the previous gathering of bartenders, cocktail aficionados, bon vivants and drunkards known as Tales of the Cocktail. One similarly steamy night in July of 2008, after a long night of trash-talking with friends Daniel Shoemaker and Erik Adkins, we decided it would be a fine idea to have an impromptu three-man cocktail contest using only the ingredients found in my swag bag. So we grabbed a few friends, headed up to the pool, spread out a mind-numbing array of airplane bottles, syrups, sauces, candies and even (seriously) candles and proceeded to see who could make the best cocktail using only those ingredients (read more and even watch a video of the contest here.)

Anyway. It was fun, and dumb, and none of us thought much of it ten minutes after we declared Daniel the winner. But word spread, and our little throwdown became a sort of celebrated thing underground. Even David Wondrich grabbed my by the arm on the last night and said, “Hey, Morgenthaler, if you do that swag bag thing again next year, I want in.”

So, fast-forward four or so months - when I’m really not thinking about that night - to a cocktail party… in New Jersey of all places. It was there that I bumped into Ann Tuennerman, founder of Tales of the Cocktail. Ann pulled me aside and propositioned me about making the Swag Bag Competition a real sanctioned event at Tales this year. “Sounds good”, I said, and we put together a conference call to hammer out the details.

It was during this conference call that I was introduced to the folks at Grand Marnier/Navan and we all chatted about the event. Now, I’m generally pretty clueless, but I must have sounded like a real rube when I exclaimed, “Wait, let me get this straight - you want that thing I did on the roof last year to be the official Grand Marnier cocktail contest?!”

“Yes, you idiot”, must have been what everyone in on the conference call was thinking, but thankfully nobody spoke out loud. But what they did tell me was that they wanted me to design and host the whole thing: I was now in charge of picking the contestants, judges, setting the rules, choosing the items for the swag bags, and get up in front of the crowd and emcee the event - everything.

Well, shit. Fortunately I remembered that David Wondrich had wanted in, so I emailed him and asked him if he’d like to be a judge. But Dave wrote back and said, “I was actually hoping to compete.” Well, double-shit, now I’ve got James Beard award-winning author David Wondrich competing, and this is becoming, like, a real thing.

But if there’s one thing I’ve got going for me, it’s the fact that I’ve got a lot of good friends in this business. So I called up seven of them from cities around the country and asked them if they’d like to compete in my humble little Grand Marnier sponsored event. And you know what I love about my friends? Every one of them said, “Yes”.

And so there I was, on stage in front of Ricky Gomez, Paul Clarke, Misty Kalkofen, Neyah White, Todd Thrasher, David Wondrich, Giuseppe Gonzalez and Eric Alperin (who even went one step further for me and shaved a mohawk just for the competition).

On my cue, the eight of them opened their swag boxes and began working on a cocktail with the following disparate list of ingredients: Glenmorangie Scotch, Chopin Vodka, Don Julio Blanco Tequila, Hennessy VSOP Cognac, Tanqueray, Grand Marnier, Navan, Tabasco, Tea Forte Cocktail Infusions, Amarula Cream, Yellow Chartreuse, Alexia Chips, Freshies Bloody Mary Mix, Dirty Sue Olive Juice, Antigua & Barbuda Hot Sauce, Jalapeno, Chocolate, & Tropical Tanteo Tequilas, Kona Coffee Liqueur, Purista Natural Mojito Mix, Dum-Dum Lollipops and M&Ms

It was - in a word - insane. Wondrich immediately began building a little makeshift still out of a cocktail shaker and some aluminum foil and distilled Navan liqueur. I thought Misty was pouring a shot for me and herself, but she was actually about to infuse the tequila with Tea Forte tea infusions (we did the shot anyway). Thrasher was working on a reduction of Navan liqueur, and the whole thing went up in flames.

Alperin’s cheering section brought a boom box and was blasting music from inside the audience. The ladies of LUPEC Boston were standing on their seats and screaming for Misty. Our judges didn’t know what to think, I’m guessing it was the most unconventional cocktail competition they’d ever been involved in.

At one point I was asked to clear the stage of the people that had gotten up out of their chairs and were yelling at the contestants, but to no avail - the crowd had officially decided to bum-rush the show.

The whole thing lasted only an hour and a half, but it felt like it was over as soon as it began. The contestants presented their cocktails to the judges one-by-one and after much deliberation, they declared Giuseppe’s mixture of tea-infused Glenmorangie, Navan and Piña Colada mix to be the winner.

Special thanks to Brian Huff and David Shenaut for the use of the photos. Hopefully we’ll be returning next year with more.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

The On-The-Fly Competition

Here’s the recipe:

2 oz Boca Loca cachaça
¾ oz lemon juice
½ oz simple syrup
½ oz egg white
1 tsp apricot preserves
1 dash Angostura bitters

Shake well with ice and double-strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

The Black Dog at Tales of the Cocktail

(Gosh, they look happy.)

Anyway - it’s July, which means that it’s that time of year, to take a week-long reprieve from the steamy swelter of Oregon and head once again to the cool lazy breezes of New Orleans. Tales of the Cocktail is a week of cocktail seminars, workshops, classes, competitions, food, fun, friends, and - for some - nearly lethal amounts of alcohol that flows freely through the streets like so much urine in the morning sun.

I’ll be there, working, playing, talking, laughing, and - if Keith Waldbauer has anything to say about it - drinking while I provide blow-by-blow updates via my Twitter account.

So join me, and I hope to see you next week at Tales.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Tales of the Cocktail is Almost Here

Ah, Tales of The Cocktail. The greatest yearly gathering on earth for cocktail enthusiasts, bartenders, students of mixology and aficionados of fine liquors. Also, a logistical nightmare for those who have to plan the hundreds of events spread over those five days in New Orleans.

Shortly after to agreeing to sit on Paul Clarke’s panel, “Using Blogs and Online Tools to Raise the Profile of Your Bar, Brand or Career” I noticed that I was double-booked for a very important Boca Loca Cachaça luncheon - one at which I was the hired bartender on duty.

So I called Paul, and after his initial swearing and foot-stomping he agreed to let me off the hook - and instead found a much more suitable replacement: Bobby Heugel of the brilliant blog Drink Dogma and co-owner of Houston’s newest and greatest cocktail bar Anvil.

Bobby’s years of writing and bartending make him the perfect fit for the panel, which includes the effervescent, salty Paul Clarke and marketing guru Steve Raye of Brand Action Team.

My sincere apologies to the one person who foolishly booked a ticket expecting to hear my drivel, and I assure you (whoever in the heck you are) that Paul Clarke has done his duty by filling my head with disgusting imagery and lewd commends. That man is an animal.

See you at Tales.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

One Small Change to the Lineup…

I absolutely hate it when someone sends me a box full of sex toys in the mail. Sure, it might sound like fun to some of you (you know who you are), but receiving a big box of free sex is much more trouble than it’s worth. Believe me. So I get a little guarded when unannounced packages arrive because, you know, I’m worried that they’re going to be full of sex stuff.

Just a couple of months ago, such a suspicious package arrived and I opened it to find - much to my delight - not a box full of sex toys but rather a new pear liqueur called Xanté. That’s fine, I thought to myself, at least it’s just a harmless pear liqueur and not something more salacious. So I opened the envelope, and there was the standard non-sexy note from the liquor company:

“Xanté is an intimate love affair, a passionate encounter, a lifetime commitment, a ménage à trois between virgin pears, the finest French cognacs, and soft caresses of vanilla from French Limousine Oak.”

Huh, okay, an intimate, passionate ménage à trois with soft caresses from virgins or whatever, nothing terribly naughty about that. Guess I’ll open the box.

Xanté comes in a sleek black box, carefully secured with a long, silken gold ribbon. It is my understanding that this ribbon is not meant to be used as a blindfold, gag, or method of restraint, but rather a simple and affordable alternative to, say, a piece of tape to keep the box closed. The box is emblazoned with the G-rated slogan “Unimaginable Pleasure”.

Inside is a little booklet full of stories about pleasure and very tasteful photo essays of women in the sporting life, surrounded by young shirtless boys and quotes comparing non-sexual leisure activities to the enjoyment of pear liqueur:

“Any croquet player of distinction knows it’s crucial to always keep her eyes on the balls and peg, regardless of how distracting the surroundings may be. Sight is an equally important part of the Xanté experience; its rich amber colour makes it apparent to anyone that looks do matter.”

…and:

“Just like a day at the croquet grounds, stroking coloured wooden balls across manicured lawns, Xanté is uncompromisingly unpredictable.”

Apparently all of this ball-stroking can whip up an insatiable thirst for the consumer, so I guess the next thing to do would be to open up the bottle. Nestled in a non-suggestive coffin of black satin sheets is the bottle, standing proudly and erect in its velveteen hole.

The opening nose is reminiscent of pears poached in cinnamon and wine. The first sip reveals a moderate amount of heat, which dissipates quickly leaving behind an extended finish of basic sugars, pear, light caramel, vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg and banana. Or, in the words of the company:

“…with its touch of vanilla, the perfect penetration of pear, and the slow, tender mating process which seals the great conception delivering a flavour and taste beyond all known experience.”

I don’t know, maybe it does sound kind of dirty after all.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Xante Pear Liqueur (Not A Sex Toy)

“Here, see if you can make me something with this”, the liquor rep taunted as he dropped a bottle of aquavit on the bar. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t really work that well under pressure. I try, but it literally takes me weeks to come up with a new drink that I’m happy with. Maybe I’m slow, maybe I’m a perfectionist, doesn’t matter: I hate it when I have to work under pressure.

So I was especially vexed when this particular wiseass handed me a bottle of aquavit. For those of you who don’t know, is a traditional Scandinavian liquor flavored with caraway and - typically - other herbs such as fennel and anise. It’s delicious, but it’s unique and isn’t known for its superb mixability.

However, I knew the liquor boob was insinuating that I might not be able to rise to the challenge, so I whipped this up (after about three false starts). A small handful of visitors to the bar at Clyde Common have suggested that it might be one of the best drinks I’ve come up with so far, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. I just think it tastes delicious.

1 oz aquavit
1 oz applejack
¾ oz sweet vermouth
¼ oz yellow Chartreuse
1 dash Angostura bitters

Stir ingredients with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail coupe. Garnish with a large twist of lemon peel and serve.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Norwegian Wood

Hey folks, if you’re reading this post, then you’re officially a reader of this website. And that means that I could really use your help. In order to lure potential advertisers over to the dark side that is my, uh, sidebar, I need to prove to them that my website is mainly frequented by consenting adults.

So, whether or not you’re of legal drinking age, would you mind doing me a favor and filling out this quick survey? I’m not going to even ask for your name or email address, so rest assured that it’s completely confidential. Because more advertising means more money, more money means more liquor, and more liquor means more late-night booze-fueled ramblings both here and on my regularly-updated Twitter feed.

Thanks, folks. Stay tuned for more drinks and stories.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Just a Quick Aside…

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

New Imbibe Video: Citrus Garnishes

It’s been busy times here in Portland, but I thought I’d take a break from all the hot bar-managin’ action to post a aggregated update of what’s been happening in my world lately - loose ends, mostly:

Last week I attended the Grand Marnier/Navan Mixology Summit in Vail Colorado. One hundred bartenders from around the country were chosen from over 800 applicants to prepare original cocktails, attend seminars, and to learn from each other and the AKA Wine Geek team. I was there with my good friends from around the country, enjoying lavish meals, incredible Grand Marnier, Cuvées du Centenaire and Cent Cinquantenaire and Navan cocktails, and - of course - skiing and enjoying gorgeous Vail.

If you happen to be a Twitter user, please feel free to follow along with me for a more detailed account of what’s happening day to day. I always try to provide a running commentary when I’m on these booze excursions and Twitter can be a great way to peek in on the action.

I’ve got another video up at Imbibe Magazine’s website, which is also viewable on YouTube and subscribeable as a podcast via the iTunes Store. In this second video, I show you how to make an Old Fashioned the way I like to drink them - as a simple drink with a surprising amount of flavor, considering the very limited ingredient list.

My last video for Imbibe turned out to be much less of a disaster than everyone anticipated, so with any luck Episode Two will be remembered as my Attack of the Clones.

I believe that is all. Please go back to what you were doing and stay tuned for another drink recipe sometime this week.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Spring Cleaning

Hey Bartender

My South Side Irish Chicago Dad always told me that Jameson was the Catholic whisky and that Bushmills was the whiskey made by “the damn Protestants”. Now this character I met at the bar is trying to tell me it’s the other way around. Help! Who do I believe, the man who raised me, or some drunk I met in a bar? You can see why I am confused.

School Marm

Hey Marm

I was wondering when someone would ask this question. The truth of the matter is, the age-old faux-pas of ordering Bushmills for fear of supporting English aggression and offending the Republic of Ireland is about as Irish as corned beef - which is to say, not very Irish at all but rather Irish-American (Sorry, kids, corned beef is a Jewish invention).

Anyway, both of your sources are wrong, but at least your father got the order right. The widely-accepted Irish-American version is that Jameson is Catholic whiskey and Bushmills is Protestant whiskey. But that’s merely based on geography: Bushmills is from Northern Ireland (a predominantly Protestant region) and Jameson is from Cork - Catholic country.

Jameson was pretty much founded in 1780 when John Jameson - a Scottish guy - purchased the Bow Street Distillery, which at the time was one of the biggest distilleries in Ireland. Now, it’s important to note that the Scottish Reformation occurred in 1560, so odds are in favor of the founder of the Jameson distillery, being Scottish, was a damn Protestant.

Bushmills, on the other hand, was officially licensed in 1608 by King James I (of Bible fame) and despite of its location deep in the heart of Protestant country (and this next bit is straight from my local Bushmills rep, so take it or leave it) has a Catholic as a master distiller.

According to everyone I’ve spoken with on the subject, you only really find this debate in the States, where Irish-American support of the Republic can sometimes be blind and often fueled by the very product we’re speaking of. But none of it means much, anyway: both distilleries are owned by huge international entities: Jameson by French liquor conglomerate Pernod-Ricard, and Bushmills by the English firm Diageo.

As for my preference, I tend to like the lighter Bushmills as it’s the first Irish whiskey I discovered years ago, and I’ve certainly enjoyed my share of Jameson from time to time. But my personal preference is Redbreast, a twelve-year pot still Irish whiskey produced at the Old Midleton Distillery and a real delight to sip while enjoying a late-night Irish breakfast of sausage, egg, pudding and soda bread. Yum.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Ask Your Bartender: Protestant vs. Catholic Whiskey

That’s what happened last month when Imbibe Magazine called me up and stuck it to me by asking that I appear in some instructional videos for their new website. And like a rabbit to a carrot I leapt at the big, bright, orange opportunity called fame.

So grab yourself a scorecard and sit back, relax, and count the screw-ups as I try to demonstrate the difference between shaking and stirring a cocktail:

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

My Turn in the Barrel

The list of increduble experiences I had last fall while attending (and speaking at) the Bar Convent Berlin is a mile long, but up near the top of the list is the afternoon chat I had with Andreas Redlefsen, owner of St. Lucia’s Elements Eight rums.

Elements Eight is virtually unknown in this country, but occasionally you will hear of it whispered in hushed tones between rum aficionados as the brand has acquired a sort of mythical status. Fortunately there was plenty on hand to taste in Europe, and I had the man himself to tell me all about it.

Elements Eight begins with molasses made from Guyanese cane (cane production is no longer commercially viable in St. Lucia). The distillers then take that molasses and ferment it in three separate batches with three different yeast strains from the island. The resulting ‘beers’ are then distilled in three different stills, which results in nine unique rums.

The first is a traditional John Dore copper pot still, the ‘Rolls Royce’ of pot stills - creating a rum that is heavy bodied, pungent and full of flavor. This rum will gain complexity as it is aged and will impart a lot of depth and complexity into the final blend. Still Two is a Vendome pot still - originally constructed for American whiskey production. The end result is a lighter rum than that produced in the John Dore. Aaaaand, still number three is a column still. Very light rum.

Anyway, all of these different rums are hand-blended and aged in used Buffalo Trace bourbon barrels in St. Lucia, which provides a unique microclimate between the Caribbean Sea and the Atlantic ocean. The warm Caribbean climate helps expand the rum into the barrel, and the chilly Atlantic evenings contract the liquid and help wash that flavor from the wood.

Both rums are aged, the gold for a minimum of 6 years, the platinum for a minimum of 4 years. Yes, the platinum rum is then charcoal-filtered in order to remove the color before it is packaged and shipped.

And what about the flavor? Both are light, clean, buttery, sophisticated and delicate, with the gold providing a touch more richness and caramel than the crisper platinum. Sippable neat, but perfect for mixing in cocktails. I’ve made crisp mojitos, smooth, buttery rum old-fashioneds, light daiquiris and Mai Tais that defy the laws of gravity.

Already available in Europe, Elements Eight is slated for release in the States late this year or early 2010.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Elements Eight Rum

In this segment, we’ll learn how to make the Brazilian classic, the caipirinha (kai-peer-EEN-ya)

1. Announce to your friends that you will be making them a kah-pree-ANN-nah kah-pree-EE-nah kah-pree-EE-nah.

Note: the caipirinha is made with a special type of Brazilian liqueur called cachaça (kuh-CHA-ka, or however it’s pronounced). Like rum, cachaça also comes in different colors.

2. Introduce your friends to the cachaça bottle, then return to its original location. It will not be needed again during the construction of this cocktail.

3. Take your rock glass.

4. Add an undisclosed number of pieces of lime and some simple syrup.

5. Mash limes with a miniature baseball bat.

6. Add ice and top with one ounce of “cachaça”, which is suspiciously identical to the simple syrup bottle.

7. Top with either soda water or sweet-and-sour mix.

8. Enjoy!

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How to Make a Caipirinha - The American Bartending School Way

With my recent move to Portland and consequent adjustment to a new work environment, new living situation and new selection of great bars and restaurants to explore, I’ve been a little lax on the new drink recipes.

Fortunately I have my cruel taskmasters at Boca Loca Cachaça to keep me toiling away, day and night, churning out recipe after recipe using their incredible product.

If you haven’t experienced Boca Loca yet, I urge you to give it a try as I firmly feel it is the finest cachaça available on the market today. The spirit is light and fresh, and free from a lot of the oiliness and heavy smoke you’ll find in other - sometimes inferior - cachaças available out there. There is grassiness, big stone fruit, some white pepper and a very light honey finish. Boca Loca is a beautiful product and it’s a pleasure to work with.

So for the spring I set about creating a series of cocktails that showcased the cachaça in a different way. This is my first entry.

Inspired in part by a gorgeous cocktail created by my good friend Gonçalo de Souza Monteiro, the Comte de Sureau, I turned the drink around and twisted the proportions to highlight the cachaça, and then finished the whole thing with a little lemon oil. It’s simple, petite, and a beautiful thing to sip on.

1½ oz Boca Loca cachaça
¾ oz Aperol
½ oz St. Germain elderflower liqueur

Stir ingredients with cracked ice and strain into a small chilled cocktail coupe. Garnish with a generous twist of lemon.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Caneflower

Anyway, here’s the deal. Grab yourself a bottle of Eric’s Dirty Sue Olive Juice and whip up an original creation that uses at least ¼ ounce of the stuff. Then send your creation to info@dirtysue.com

Then Eric’s going to strip all your names off of the submissions, send them to me, and I’m going to make each one in my kitchen and pass them around my apartment to my friends. We’ll critique and belittle your creations, all the while trying to stay coherent enough to grade them and select the best drink recipes.

The first place winner will win $250, a year’s supply of Dirty Sue, and some Dirty Sue merchandise, which I can personally attest is pretty sweet - seriously. Second place gets a hundred bucks and some merch. Third place? I’ll publish your recipe here on my website. Sweet deal, see more info below.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

I’m Bored, Give Me Something to Do

Portland, Oregon is the best, as everyone knows. The city is largely unhindered by the cruel oppression of the sun’s toxic ultraviolet rays, which keep skin cancer and unnecessary happiness at bay. Mount Tabor, a dormant volcanic “cone” lies within the city limits, which is in no way absolutely terrifying. And a large near-sighted Amish population brings their rich cultural heritage to the table and fills the streets with the soothing sounds of emotional music, which nobody ever grows tired of.

But what few people realize is the many contributions that my tiny hometown of Eugene, just a hundred miles to the south, has made to Portland over the years.

One-way streets, which are never super annoying, first made their appearance in Eugene and have since been adopted by Portland for their awesomeness. The Nike swoosh, which nobody has ever gotten tired of looking at, credits Eugene as its birthplace and now calls Portland its home. And now, the vast cadre of antics of one Mr. Jeffrey Morgenthaler, which are impossible to tire of, have been generously donated to the city of Portland by the town of Eugene.

Yes, one month ago I filled up a large truck with a bunch of liquor, cocktail-related reading material - and a small bed - and headed for my new home of Portland. I am in the process of taking over the cocktail program at Clyde Common, from current bar manager extraordinaire Kevin Ludwig. While I’ve been using my time as of late to adjust to the new bar, absorb all I can from Kevin before he leaves to open his own venture Beaker and Flask, and generally make the adjustment to a larger city, I will be slowly implementing, along with the powerhouse staff currently behind the bar at the Clyde, an aggressive cocktail and spirits program of my own.

So stay tuned for updates, new posts, and possibly even a new drink or two - I’m sure you’re all tired of looking at that darn egg nog recipe over there on the left considering it’s February and all.

Thanks to Clyde Common, Portland, and you, dear reader, for all the support. And special thanks to Mr. Thomas Ngo for the above photo of me behind the bar at Clyde Common on my first night.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Back in Black

Susan writes:

I am a frequent bar customer. I need an explanation of the concept behind buybacks.

One bartender who I was friends with would not let me pay for my drinks, ever. He said they were on him.

One day when it was very slow in the bar I asked him if he could let me pay for my drinks, because he was losing $14 for the two drinks that I had. The owner was present and heard me say this. Thee next time I saw him he was absolutely furious with me and said that this got him in trouble (reprimanded).

How do you get in trouble for this?

Thanks so much for your thoughts,
Susan

Dear Susan

I’ll just bet your friend was furious with you: buybacks may come in many colors, but you just caught him robbing the place blind.

Let me back up and explain the concept of “buybacks” for those who aren’t familiar with the idea. See, in many lower-end bars, neighborhood dives, juke joints, roadhouses, taverns and shitkicker saloons, the bartender has developed a symbiotic relationship with his or her customers that puts a few extra dollars in the barkeep’s pocket at the end of the night, and keeps the clientele coming back for more. It’s called the buyback and it works like this:

I’m a regular customer. I come into your bar five, six nights a week and hoist a good three pints at a sitting, tipping a dollar or more on each beer. You and I have a mutual understanding that my fourth drink is going to be on the house. I, as a customer, don’t really know why this is the rule, and you most likely haven’t been trained by the owner in this practice. But as long as I’m tipping and we’ve got a good relationship as customer and bartender, that fourth drink is gonna be free.

The buyback has been around for a long, long time. My guess is that it’s been around for so long that it originated in a time when owners still worked behind the bar and would buy a drink for a customer as a sign of appreciation for his loyalty. Done in an appropriate manner by someone who actually owns the booze, the buyback can be a very effective tool in maintaining a regular customer base. But don’t be fooled, Susan. Your friend isn’t a savvy businessman, sliding you an occasional drink to thank you for your regular patronage, but rather a douchebag and a thief - giving away alcohol and putting the money in his pocket.

As you said in your email, “One bartender who I was friends with would not let me pay for my drinks, ever… How do you get in trouble for this?” Well, Susan, you get in trouble the same way a teenage employee of The Gap gets busted for putting a pair of leggings in her purse - the only difference is that The Gap would have the good sense to fire the employee in question and your friend’s boss is clearly a moron.

I get upset with bartenders like your friend, because it perpetuates a myth that many people carry with them into bars: that alcohol should be free and well-liked people should never have to pay for a drink. I don’t know where this prevailing attitude comes from, but I suspect it grew out of the venerable buyback. Look at it in another light: every morning you stop at the place by your house for a coffee and a bagel. And every morning you pay full price, never expecting to have the girl behind the counter refuse to take your money. It doesn’t faze you in the least, does it?

So why do some people expect the opposite treatment when it comes to bars? This isn’t even an expectation you see sales-wide in the liquor industry, it’s bar-specific. You would never, ever expect every fourth six-pack at your local grocery store to be free, would you? Really?

As a bartender who doesn’t steal from his employers, I’m forced to rely on a smile, some solid conversation, and a well-made drink to make my living. Sure, I’d probably make more money hopping from job to job, giving away booze at every place in town until either I was fired or the place went out of business, but that’s not much of a career. Sure, I’d be the most popular guy in town, but my hope is that eventually people will once again admire bartenders as hosts, craftspeople, and trusted civic figures and regard us less as petty thieves and scam-artists.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Ask Your Bartender: Buybacks

You guys don’t realize how good you’ve got it. See, when I was a young blogger, we didn’t have all these new, fancy blogs that you guys have got nowadays. There was none of this Kaiser Penguin business, and certainly not the Scofflaw’s Den. Hell, Boudreau was probably still in Canada back then, for all I know.

All we had back in those days was The Art of Drink, some of Paul’s early material, and a now-defunct little blog called DC Drinks. Put on by a couple of wiseacres from our nation’s capital, the guys from DC Drinks were not only some of my biggest influences as a blogger, but they were also instrumental in helping me start spreading the word about Repeal Day online.

So when Derek Brown called me and asked if I’d like to come out to Washington and celebrate Repeal Day with the Washington, D.C. Craft Bartenders Guild, I didn’t have to think twice, I jumped on that plane and ran back East for yet another adventure.

Our weekend began with a quick cocktail at Bourbon, and then a beautiful ten course dinner at Vidalia, with a special food and cocktail pairing menu prepared especially for us by chef R.J. Cooper. We recoiled with delight as wave after wave of plates arrived at the table, accompanied by solidified twists on cocktails and traditional drinks paired brilliantly by sommelier Ed Jenks We sat and chatted with Tony Abou-Ganim, Guild President Owen Thompson, Melanie da Trinidade-Asher of Macchu Pisco, Eric Seed, Emma Davis of Martin Miller’s Gin, and Bill Thomas, owner of Bourbon.

Nightcaps were brilliantly prepared by Chantal Tseng at the Tabard Inn, however by this point I was feeling the effects of a full day’s travel and a full belly’s meal, so I bade farewell to my friends and found my way to bed.

After some light sightseeing the next day I was ready to get my hands dirty. I’d previously agreed to tend bar with my friend Jacob Grier at the Cato Institute’s policy forum, so afterwards Jacob and I put out a few hundred Martinezes, Manhattans and Sazeracs for the thirsty crowd. But, as in any social situation, the place I feel the most comfortable is behind the bar, so while I had trouble tearing myself away from the event I knew it was time to get ready for the party.

The Great Hall at the City Tavern Club is painted in history, having played host to practically every major American political figure in history, from George Washington and John Adams right up to Ronald Reagan. Which is great, because when you’re in Washington you want to feel that connection to the nation’s history - especially when celebrating such a historic day as we were.

One thing you’ve got to love about Washington D.C. is the glamour you’ll find at a major event like this - it’s certainly not like anything you’ll ever find on the West Coast. Really, people went all out with period dress, flapper costumes, tuxedoes, and more hip flasks than LeNell could shake a bottle of Pre-Prohibition rye and tiny funnel at.

But that’s neither here nor there. The point is that I can’t really do this event justice through words and photos. The Guild did the most incredible job of transporting everyone in the building to the Eve of Repeal, from the live swing band and our mustachioed toastmaster to the myriad bars scattered around the Hall serving pre- or Prohibition era cocktails to the thirsty masses.

But soon the hour was fading yet again, and while I could (or should) have found my way back to the hotel, I instead opted to join our hosts at the private after-party at DC’s newest speakeasy, Gibson.

I’m not usually a huge fan of private clubs and speakeasies. I’ve been to bars that were exclusive to the point of being inhospitable. I’ve experienced - on two separate establishments - being stalled at the door by a host, only to find an empty room upon entry. I think that while the speakeasy concept can work, the point is often missed by the employees of the establishment and the whole thing becomes poorly translated into a worthwhile bar experience.

But not so at The Gibson. Upon gaining entry through the unmarked front door you are taken through a dark hallway to one of the warmest, friendliest, most inviting spaces I’ve ever been in - and I’ve been in a few bars. The staff is incredibly hospitable, there seem to be no unrealistic expectations of inebriated human behavior in place, and the drinks are downright incredible. It’s everything you want from a speakeasy, and you can still whisper the F-word across the table to your friends without fear of castigation.

We broke no-standing-room-only policy as a hundred-plus of us filled the room; bartenders, rabble-rousers, bloggers, Repeal Day advocates, liquor tradespeople and cocktail aficionados all rubbed elbows around the never-ending punch bowl in the back room of The Gibson.

But oh-my-head, and soon I found myself sitting at the bar with Derek in a thinned-out version of the earlier scene, being served some magnificent cocktails by our infatigable and persistent bartenders John and Tiffany until the wee hours of the morning.

There’s more to this trip - much more - including a trip to Alexandria to visit with the brilliant Mr. Todd Thrasher at two of his three bars, but that will have to wait for another post as I’ve already taken three days to write this. So talk amongst yourselves, what did you do for Repeal Day? Were you at the party in DC? Have you ever been to The Gibson? What are your experiences with speakeasies around the world? Leave a note in the comments section below.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Repeal Day in Washington, D.C.

The world is gearing up for Repeal Day this Friday and I couldn’t be more pleased.

My good friend Kevin Erskine over at The Scotch Blog has a big summary of Repeal Day history and events posted - thanks for the kind words, Kevin.

How’s Your Drink author Eric Felten devoted his weekly column in the Wall Street Journal last weekend to Repeal Day - very kind of you, sir!

Imbibe Magazine is posting a calendar of events happening in cities across the country, be sure to see what’s happening in your area.

Over at Underhill Lounge, Erik Ellestad gives us some more in-depth coverage of what’s happening in San Francisco and still manages to whine about the hangover he had the last time I came to visit.

Have any Repeal Day news of your own? Leave us a note in the comments section, or post your Repeal Day events here.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Keepin’ It Repeal

I’ll be in Washington, D.C., celebrating the 75th anniversary of Repeal Day in our nation’s capital with the Washington, D.C. Craft Bartender’s Guild at what promises to be a great party.

So I put it to you: what do you have planned for December 5th? Leave your event’s info and a link to the festivities happening in your area in the comments section below.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

What Are You Doing on Repeal Day?

I repost this every year about this time, because I’m a man on a mission. You see, I love egg nog, but I can’t stand the thick, gelatinous goop they sell at the grocery store. Even if you were to cut it with alcohol, it’s still so overly-pasteurized and full of preservatives that it would be anything but enjoyable to slug down at a Christmas party. So I set about concocting the simplest, tastiest Egg Nog recipe I could, and here’s what I came up with.

In terms of cocktail history, Egg Nog is nothing more than a brandy or rum (or both) flip made with the addition of cream or milk. The 1862 Bar-Tender’s Guide by Jerry Thomas calls for a nog made up of a tablespoon of bar sugar, a tablespoon of water, a whole egg, cognac, rum and milk, shaken and strained, with some nutmeg grated on top. The problem I have with Thomas’ recipe is all the extra water that comes from the melting of the ice, not to mention that extra half ounce he calls for. Watery egg nog, anyone? Yeah, no thanks.

So I did a lot of research, in cookbooks and on the web, and tried a bunch of different recipes and methods. Some called for cooking the eggs into sort of a custard, but that’s a heck of a lot of work and results in a thick glop. Others required separating the eggs, beating them independently, and folding them together. But again, it’s thick and I’m lazy.

This is the recipe I devised. It can be made in just about any home or bar, since the ingredients are fairly simple. It can be done entirely in a blender, so there are no whisks or beaters or rubber spatulas or stovetops needed. It yields two healthy servings, so you can easily multiply it to serve more. It doesn’t use a ton of heavy cream, so it’s fairly light. In other words, it’s practically perfect.

2 large eggs
3 oz (by volume) granulated sugar
½ tsp freshly-grated nutmeg
2 oz brandy
2 oz spiced rum (I use Sailor Jerry’s)
6 oz whole milk
4 oz heavy cream

Beat eggs in blender for one minute on medium speed. Slowly add sugar and blend for one additional minute. With blender still running, add nutmeg, brandy, rum, milk and cream until combined. Chill thoroughly to allow flavors to combine and serve in chilled wine glasses or champagne coupes, grating additional nutmeg on top immediately before serving.

One note about blenders. This recipe works great in home blenders, but the commercial models are designed to heat whatever they’re blending, which can result in scrambled eggs by the time you get around to the sugar. If you’re using a Vita-Mix or similar commercial blender, cut that initial blend time down to a quarter minute or so.

Post from: Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Follow me on Twitter.

Egg Nog