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tuxedo1

Ceci n’est pas une Cosmopolitan

Girly-looking, manly-named!

Here we have a Tuxedo Martini. It is of a piece with the Stork Club, a cocktail I blogged a few weeks back, in that both were christened after the New York City hotspots where they were invented. Allow me to quote my ever-dogeared copy of Difford’s Encyclopedia of Cocktails:

“Created at the Tuxedo Club, New York, circa 1885. A year later this was the birthplace of the tuxedo, when a tobacco magnate, Griswold Lorillard, wore the first ever tailless dinner jacket  and named the style after the club.”

A few things:

tuxedo3

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champmar3

I have seen recipes for champagne martinis that call for just vodka and sparkler. I have come across others (more than I would have guessed) that all swear by a spoonful of raspberry puree in the bottom of the glass, with some fizz and whatever else on top. And I have read that just bubbly and Cointreau is what constitutes a proper Champagne Martini — if “proper” is even a descriptor we can properly use when discussing a cocktail that bears, at best, a second-cousin resemblance to a proper-proper martini-martini.

My new favorite acronym is MINO — Martini in Name Only. It was, I will admit to you devout drinkers, a fact of life I had to swallow (straight, no chaser) when I agreed to author a cocktail book called The Big Book of Martinis for Moms. Clearly, not all 175+ recipes in the book are vodka- and or gin-based, for one thing. Believe you me, I did strive to make as many of the book’s recipes fall in line with a classic martini’s most hallowed guidelines. As it turns out, Mom does not live on vermouth alone.

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aviator3

I’d like to talk about cocktail geekdom in this post, which I realize is like talking about the pink elephant we’re all seeing in the room.

When Googling “aviator cocktail,” one of the top search results is this 2008 story from the NYT’s Dining section entitled “A Brotherhood Formed with Cocktails and Ice.” While the boys’-clubbish headline does make me wince (here’s one occasion where I’m all for a “personhood” amendment; how about “camaraderie,” Gray Lady?) the story tickles my historical fancy, as I feel like it’s sort of the ur-trend piece about us modern-day cocktailians (as one of those quoted in the piece preferred to be called, rather than “cocktail geek”).

A recipe for the Aviation Cocktail No. 1 is one of two that accompany the piece. Note that I just wrote Aviation Cocktail No. 1, not Aviator Cocktail No. 1. [Inner cocktail geek jolted awake by persnickety clarification.] The latter is actually more obscure, it seems, and therefore much harder to come by online. [Geek full of pride for self, knows more obscure cocktail knowledge than most, is so cool!] And as the numerical nomenclature suggests, both the Aviation Cocktail and the Aviator Cocktail come in more than one accepted form. [Geeeeeekkkkyyyeeeeaaaahhhhh!]

aviator1

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Guest post by Sean Lorre, PhoBlograpHusband.


I’m afraid that one of my oldest friends doesn’t like me much anymore. We used to be thick as thieves. We could really count on each other, you know? I’d sing his praises to anyone who would listen and in turn he’d lift my spirits, get me through tough times… hell, he even helped me meet my wife. But lately, things just haven’t been the same. Why, bourbon? Why have you turned on me?

See, used to be that I could drink bourbon all night and never have a problem. But lately, just a glass or two leaves me worse for wear the next day. This newfound shortcoming has left me in a predicament and wary of ordering my go-to drink, the Manhattan. Thankfully, I have a fallback… enter the Martinez!

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If this blog betters your drinking in but one, minute way, I hope it provides you with a plethora of ideas for mixing easy, whiskey-based cocktails. Sometimes I picture you — yes, you — lumbering through the door of your recession-era, DIY-chic digs, on the edge of weary after a long day slogging through your paper-pushing profession of choice (or, in keeping with the recession theme, necessity), and of course nine times out of ten you’re going to reach for the bourbon. Neat or straight-on-the-rocks will always do, but don’t you deserve a bit more of a to-do? Just something uncomplicated that can add a little brightness, a little aroma, a soupcon of civility to your drink and your day? That’s what I’m here for.

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The moral of this week is: Take things literally. Yesterday I blogged about my Breakfast of Champions, an original cocktail o’mine that bears more than a passing resemblance to a Moon Over My Hammy at Denny’s – and yes, it’s a little embarrassing for a high-functioning alcoholic mature mixologist to admit to such levels of kitsch. Today’s recipe, while not quite so blatant, was likewise created via an over-the-top approach.

The basic premise was to construct a swizzle using the sweetest ingredients we (Sean and I) could think of, but somehow manipulate them into a drink that tasted better than, say, a shot of insulin with a Blow Pop chaser. Our secondary goal was to make a juice-less swizzle — which, according to rather strict definitions I’ve found and mentioned here before, means it technically wouldn’t be a swizzle, but whatevs — as our at-home citrus stock was low.

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We had some friends over yesterday afternoon (U know who U R! Luv U lots! Stay as sweet as U R! SIT!) to do some cocktailing, so I wanted to start this week with the drink that ran away from the pack, the hands-down favorite, the one cocktail to rule them all!

How freaking good am I talking? What Stephanie said: “I would wear this as perfume.” Michelle: “This is the Most. Intriguing. Cocktail. I have ever tasted.” And then more Michelle: “I would order a second one of these just so I could spend more time with it.”

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