The last word...

...as I mentioned before, can be had by gin drinkers. The modern cocktail started with gin (and rye), and it is still going strong, although its upfront flavors and juniper twang often steer others towards vodka. This post, however, we will be discussing The Last Word, a cocktail which last long fallen out of favor, only to be recently reincarnated in the ateliers of saloon keepers. The recipe is simple, evenly proportioned, and will allow us to taste some rather off-the-wall spirits.

In the forefront, we have gin. Or rather, that's what most recipes for the drink will tell you. However, let's talk about something a little different: Genever.

Genever is what gin used to be like. It is made from distilling malt wine. Unfortunately, the result of that process produced a beverage somewhere between awful and horrendous due to the primitive distillation methods of the time. So, in order to make it more palatable, the Dutch added a cornucopia of herbs.

The difference between gin and genever is marked. Where traditional London Dry gin is aggressive, assertive and mostly one-note, genever is soft, very slightly sweet, and extremely well balanced. While the nose is of juniper, the flavor is herby with cherry and wood, with a back-end vaguely reminiscent of sake. This is a gin one could sip on the rocks like a whisky, but it really shines in cocktails. And Bols makes one of the standards. Missing from the US for most of the 20th century, Bols recently reintroduced it.

To play up the cherry notes in the Bols, we'll add an equal proportion of maraschino liqueur. Be forewarned: This stuff is not a Pucker-like substance loaded up with sugar, nor is it like drinking the radioactive red juice from a jar of grocery store maraschinos. That said, however, it is fantastic stuff. Clean and ascerbic with a fresh ripe cherry taste, it's the perfect complement to the genever's flavors. The traditional brand is Luxardo, an Italian company, but I prefer to stick with the anything the Commerce City-bases Leopold Bros. makes when I can. We'll be drinking a LOT of Leopold's output during our journey.

The next element, again in equal proportion, is green Chartreuse. This is an important one. Chartreuse is one of those monk beverages I mentioned previously, and it has been with us since the 18th century. In fact, the color chartreuse is named after the spirit, not the other way around. It is one of the most complicated, interesting and complex liqueurs out there.

The recipe is, of course, a closely held secret, but it consists of 130 different varieties of herbs, flowers and who knows what else. It ages well in the bottle, a rarity for any spirit. And the green color comes from the time before artificial additives: It comes from the plants itself.

Describing the taste is almost impossible. That's because it seems to constantly change from sip to sip. At first the smell of strong alcohol rises to meet you (it is 110 proof, after all). At first, you might taste licorice and mint. Then herbs and baking spices. After that, perhaps some grassy, leafy bark or faint fruit. It's like a symphony of flavor, and I say that on purpose, not to spout more turgid prose. With all those ingredients and flavors, it would be easy to make a misstep and produce something disastrous. But those monks got it right. It's sweet, not bitter, and every element is spot on.

By the way, if you're going to drink Chartreuse, grab the green stuff. The yellow is milder, sweeter and packs less of a punch.

The last of our elements is a lime. Traditionally, the recipe is 1-1-1-1, with equal parts of all ingredients. In my opinion, though, too much lime will overwhelm the rest of the drink. I think a half part of lime is more than enough.

The Last Word
1 part genever (or gin)
1 part maraschino liqueur
1 part green Chartreuse
1/2 part fresh lime juice

Add ingredients to a shaker, add ice, shake, and strain into some kind of fancy glass. Garnish with a maraschino cherry (sorry, I only had the crappy kind; I'll try my hand at making my own at some point) and a lime twist.

A "last word" about this drink. It is not going to be enough to turn a non-gin-drinker into one who loves the stuff. That will come as the days warm up, as we mix up a long-forgotten cocktail, the Floradora. But for someone who is fond of gin and wants a change from martinis or G&Ts, or someone interested in getting acquainted with the spirit, it's a fine place to start.

Bols Genever
Product of Holland
$45 at Total Beverage

Leopold Bros Maraschino Liqueur
Product of Colorado
$24 at Mondo Vino

Chartreuse
Product of France
$70 at Applejack

Chewing on pine trees...

...is a favorite pasttime of us gin drinkers. At least, that's what anyone who doesn't drink gin will tell us. But we have the first laugh, and maybe the last, as well. Because the fact remains, if you like to drink cocktails of any type, you owe gin pretty much everything.

Gin was one of the main liquor use in the early days of cocktails. In fact, vodka was in very short supply (and low appreciation) at the time, for good reason. If you were looking to drink something interesting, something complex, why would you turn to a spirit that was bland, tasteless, and added nothing to the recipe but a way to get drunk? Why do you think vodka is a long-standing favorite of sorority girls?

OK, OK, I'm not being fair. Of course there are many variations and complexities to vodka that are apparent in more niche brands. And we will encounter some of them in our continued exploration of booze. But, to the forefathers of the cocktail, vodka was boring. And actually reasonably rare.

And so there was gin. A beautiful substance, made of about a zillion different flavor essences, married together into a sublime spirit base suitable for use in cocktails aplenty. It can stand up to some of the harshest ingredients, be they sweet, bitter, savory or sour. Anything added just builds on a specific aspect of gin, enhancing and complementing it. Unfortunately, in the mid-1800s, something went terribly wrong. And that something came in the form of the British Empire.

Oh, sure, we can place a panoply of evils at the feet of the English monarchs. I hear India is none too fond of them for some reason and, "royal fever" notwithstanding, we Americans are best rid of them also. The misfortune I am referring to, however, comes in the form of London Dry Gin.

I hear a collective gasp from the audience. Don't get me wrong. I will drink a martini of Tanqueray as readily as the next man. Truth be told, I'll drink one about twice as fast as the next man. Up, with three olives, please. I love several varieties of London Dry Gin. My first bottle of alcohol was a 750 of Bombay Sapphire.I am a fan of gin in pretty much any form. I even own a bottle of Mexican gin.

That said, though, the problem with London Dry Gin is that it has a very particular taste, and that is overwhelmingly of juniper. Sure, there may be 35 other flavors in there, but many of the popular brands on the market plainly reek of the stuff. It was used to mask the flavor of quinine, for goodness sake. And that can be very negative to a lot of drinkers out there. London Dry Gin is incredibly polarizing, and that is the evil that the Empire hath wrought. Because for someone to take a sip of a Beefeater martini, gag and gasp, and swear to never touch the stuff again is doing gin a very grave disservice.

As I mentioned, back in the infancy of the cocktail movement, gin was IT. It was the base for most of the archaic cocktails made with clear liquor, from a Tom Collins to a Martinez. It was a backbone of early cocktail culture. To be missing out on such a fantastic substance due to the vicissitudes of a poorly made G&T is, frankly, sad. Which is why I derive great pleasure from a recent movement to once again raise gin to its proper place among the pantheon of alcohols. We will continue this next post with a discussion of three spirits which together make for a very classic, gin-based cocktail.

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As a note, I'll be visiting Williams & Graham again this Thursday. If you are not familiar with it, W&G is one of the recently-opened (as of November) temples to the pre-Prohibition cocktail, with a dash of speakeasy thrown in for flavor. Owned by the former headof Kona Grill in Cherry Creek and situated on the corner of 32nd and Tejon in the up-and-coming LoHi neighborhood of Denver, it's a fine conceit: Enter a faux-bookstore, and the hostess will slip your name through a cubby into who-knows-where. Soon enough, you are ushered behind the cliche swinging bookcase into a tin-ceilinged celebration of booze. Handmade cocktails, hand-chipped ice, lots of bitters and obscure brands of spirits. Sounds wonderful, yes?

So far, my experience has been almost entirely negative, based mainly on the service. The first time, M and I were asked to wait an hour for a seat. An hour and a half later, we were told that we would need to wait at least 45 minutes to an hour more. We went home.

We made a second attempt this week, and were seated with only a 15 minute delay post-reservation. Unfortunately, during the 2 hours we were there, we managed to obtain only two rounds of cocktails. Believe me, it was not due to our slow drinking habits. One of the drinks that showed up was almost unbearably bitter. Props to the bartender who willingly remade the drink to spec when I walked up to the bar to inquire if the recipe was correct, but thumbs-down to the waiter who took the order and then did not return to the table for 45 minutes, only to have the bar manager ask us what we had ordered again. We asked for the check and left.

Imagine our incredible surprise today to receive a phone call from Todd Colehour, one of the owners of W&G, imploring us to come back and give the place another shot, on him. While I've received the typical "Denver service" illustrated above many, many times, I can't say I have ever had someone reach out directly after the fact to try to make it right. I sincerely want to like this place, so here's hoping that Thursday is a better showing. We've asked to be seated at the bar, which is probably a good idea in any of these places anyway.

Stay tuned Thursday for further info on the joint and also our encounter with the lovely gin-based cocktail The Last Word.

Williams & Graham
3160 Tejon Street, Denver

'Tis the season...

...for spices, it seems. Everywhere I go, I'm smelling cinnamon, or chestnuts or peppermint. It's like living inside a Yankee Candle store this time of year. I can't even wander into King Soopers without wondering, "What the...is that potpourri?!"

I'd rather be socked in the face with spice in the winter though. Summer is the time for clear, cool, and fruity. Now is the time for dark, zesty, and rich .Beverage trends are on point, too, with the heavy use of liqueurs like Velvet Falernum, Frangelico, Becherovka. Anything with a tinge of baking spices, really.

Huddled inside under a soft blanket with a good book, though, I turn my mind to whiskey. I have a couple of go-to spirits when it's cold outside: Boubons, ryes, and Canadian whiskys.

Canadian whisky is something of an odd beverage. Among whisky drinkers its...well, let us be kind and say it has its place. And that place is drowned with a can of Coke at the office Christmas party because the open bar only serves well alcohol and the only beer they have is Miller Lite.

Couple that with the fact that even the label is misleading. Pick up a bottle of Canadian, and you'll see the word RYE jump out at you. You start to get excited, thinking about a vivacious snap of flavor along with a happy burn as it warms the belly. And then you taste it. The problem is that Canada's laws don't require that something called rye actually has any rye in it at all. There could be a liquor made of one hundred percent corn and wheat (and most of them are), and it will say rye on the front. Recently, there have been some Canadian producers that are pushing up the rye content, or advertising the fact that they never moved away from the grain in the first place. Caveat emptor is pretty much the rule, though; it you want a good rye experience, stick with American.

That's not to say that Canadian whisky can't be good. It can. It's just lacking the pedigree of a single malt Scotch, or a barrel-aged American bourbon. It's blended, light gold in color and mild on the palate. A perfect vehicle for some additives.


Spicebox is a relatively new "modified" whisky  (first released this August as far as I can tell) bottled in Montreal, and it blends the craving for dark liquor with the season's penchant for spice. It's Canada's answer to Captain Morgan, maybe.

Pouring it into a glass, it retains the gold color of most Canadians, but there is where the similarity ends. Take a taste, and it's bursting with vanilla, caramel, allspice and orange zest. There's even a slight edge of coffee lurking around. It's sweeter than you would expect a whisky to be, but it has a nice raw alcohol burn when you quaff it straight. This is something I would definitely put into a flask for standing around on a freezing Parade of Lights-watching night.

To really make it come alive, though, let's fall back on the office party staple and mix it with some Coca-Cola. For most highballs I will substitute Coke Zero as a mixer, but I think it is important here to go with the genuine article due to the flavors involved.

Mixed together, the orange comes much more to the forefront, and the vanilla blends seamlessly. Amp it up with an orange twist. The cola's raging cinnamon is toned down. The whole package is like Jack & Coke times 10, and it is perfect for winter drinking. Grab yourself a piece of pie, hunker down and watch the snow fly from somewhere warm.

Fill an Old Fashioned glass with ice.
1 1/2 ounce Spicebox Canadian Whisky
Fill with Coca-Cola
Garnish with an orange twist (I used a Clementine here, because I am a fancy pants. And that's all that was in the refrigerator)

Spicebox Canadian Spiced Whisky
Product of Canada
$17, on sale, at Applejack

Bitter...

...is the new black. At least, that's what you would think if you visit any of Denver's new specialty cocktail joints: Places like Green Russell on Larimer or Williams and Graham in LoHi. Bartenders in flat caps are all aflutter with the thought of consuming one of the many herbal liqueurs that make up the class of amari (amaro singular, meaning "bitter" in Italian). What the heck is this stuff and why is it so hot right now?

As far as their popularity, bartenders and trendy drinkers are always searching out new flavors. They get bored with a martini or a margarita. Plus, if you are drinking something no one else has ever heard of, you get mad bev cred. Right? In actuality, though, they are drinking it because it tastes good, and avid drinkers are nothing if not enthusiastic about sharing new stuff with everyone else. That's the purpose of this blog, isn't it?

If you have ever sipped some Jagermiester (it does not have to be slammed with Red Bull, believe me), that is a German version of an amaro. These are the types of liqueurs that tend to be made by monks a long time ago, who had nothing else to do but pray and find new and creative ways to get drunk. We owe them Champagne and Chartreuse, so they will get no bad-mouthing from me. Most recipes for Italian varieties, though, trace themselves back to the 1800s.

The strategy? Grab yourself some alcohol, macerate it with whatever you find lying around on the ground (flowers, tree bark, roots) or  have leftover in your spice cabinet (citrus peels, cinnamon, anise and the like), add some sugar, age the crap out of it, and Bob's your uncle.

Now, I can imagine (vividly) what the resulting substance would taste like if I decided to make a homemade batch of this stuff. Vile does not begin to describe it. But the Italian producers of over a century ago, either through trial and error, or a keen sense of what flavors blend well together, came up with some fantastic tastes.

One of the things about this grouping of alcohols is that they are all pretty much completely different. If you pick up a bottle of vodka or tequila, you pretty much know what you are going to get, with some flavor variations. But other than the name, you're going to find three things with amari: Some sweetness, some bitterness and some herbs. After that, it's all up in the air.

Enough back story, though. The drink of the day is Amaro Nonino Quintissentia. It is made thus: The base alcohol? Grappa (fermented sugar and grape stems). The additives? A bunch of stuff, including licorice, saffron (!) and rhubarb (!!). The taste?

Well, here's where things get interesting. If the mention of licorice above bothered you, don't worry. The great thing about this class of drink is that no one flavor dominates. Sure, there are vague notes of licorice, but the primary taste is of cinnamon and vanilla. It's sweet, slightly thick, and complex. It reminds me of Tuaca mixed with Goldschlager (not that that combo is something I have had) with a handful of herbs thrown in. It's got a flavor reminiscent of Red Hots candies, with a middle of vanilla and orange and a little "bark-like" and woodsy and a long, linger bitter afte...

Wait a second! Where the heck is the bitter aftertaste?! All amari are bitter. As the scorpion might have said to the frog, "It is in their nature." So color me surprised that this one does not have the strong bitterness I expected. And that's actually a relief. Because while I like the bitterness, I know that most people don't. I also firmly believe that getting used to bitter flavors is simply a matter of exposure. Most of us learned to like coffee, and most to like beer. I suspect we can all grow to like amaro, and this is a great place to start.

The only downside is the price. At $49 (!), it is almost four times as much as Amaro Ciociaro, and $20 more than Amaro Montenego, both great choices (but both quite bitter). Still, in the interest of exploration, I think it's worth it.

Amari are normally served as a digestif, an after-dinner drink. They are intended to settle the stomach, and there are herbs and spices that go into the making with that intention, like galangal (ginger-esque) and mint. I think drinking it straight up is fine, but I also hear tell of amari mixed with tonic water. Not sure how the blend of two bitters will come off, but I'm willing to give it a shot. Updates in the comments tonight.

Amaro Nonino Quintissentia
Product of Italy
$49 at Mondo Vino

Some points...

...for your consideration, so that expectations don't get too high for the output of this blog.

1. First and foremost, I am not a bartender. I am not a "mixologist". I am not the owner of a speakeasy, a blind tiger or a blind pig. I do not own a flat cap. I am going to try to constrain myself to talking in a conversational voice about alcohol. I will try not to geek out and start taking about nose, or vapours.

2. I am not an expert. I do not know all there is to know about booze, nor will I ever. I'll drink pretty much anything, definitely try everything I can, but I will not scoff at those who do not know the difference between a gin or a genever.

3. I drink most of the things I drink straight, but I will be trying out lots of cocktails and variations, including "classic", unknown and popular drinks. I'll post recipes as I find them, but I do not guarantee their authenticity or accuracy. Drink at your own risk!

4. I will not restrict myself to weird, obscure, trendy or wacky alcohols or cocktails. If we are tasting some Cuervo Gold shots with a lime and salt shaker, let's go for it!

5. I have some opinions about the way things "should" be, but I will try not to let them come through too strongly. For example, IMHO the only real martini is made with gin, vermouth and an olive, but I am not above drinking a Cosmopolitan.

6. Last, and probably most controversial: I do not like Scotch. Don't expect me to wax effusive about the output of the Highlands or Orkney or Speyside. That said, however, I am learning, and I am willing to try. Maybe through this journey I will grow to love the liquor of the kilted ones. Just don't ask me for recommendations right off the bat.

Kampai!

My best category...

...on Jeopardy always was "Potent Potables." It is funny to think that I spent my entire high school career without consuming a single drop of alcohol. Luckily for many of my friends, I was always the one sober enough to be able to hoist them up and carry them out to the car and drive them home before they become embedded in the carpet during one of the many house parties.

Strangely enough, though, during that same time, I would perform car stereo installs for people, only asking one thing for payment: Give me a bottle of something (usually gin). Why? Don't ask me. Maybe it was the allure of the beautiful and creative packaging. Or the way the light glittered on the glass. Or the amazing history associated with some of these alcohol brands.

We (well, those of us who drink a lot), have always heard that even the Egyptians made beer. This blog, however, is not about beer, or even wine. This is about the world of distillation, and the products therefrom.

Supposedly, the first distilled beverage was sura, a drink made from rice, sugar cane, grapes and other random stuff in India between the second and third millennia B.C. Although we won't be tasting anything nearly that old in this blog, we will be trying some stuff with a fair amount of history and lore behind it. Alcohol and alcoholic beverages have been very important to the human race for many thousands of years.

And now? Well, I've moved on from my temperance days. I blame college. I can wander around a liquor store for hours, peering at labels, entranced by the way the liquid shimmers and dances in the variegated bottles from all places of the world. It's like touching the culture of every country in the world in a glass.

I hope you enjoy reading about this as much as I enjoy writing about it. Feel free to contact me and stop by and share some, too. I don't mind drinking alone, but I love company.

I also plan to open this up to contributions, once I figure this blog stuff out.

Cheers!

Oh, and by special request, here is the growing collection. Upon seeing it, my father commented, "Oh, look at all the lovely grandbottles!"

I know where your mind is, dad. :P