#pre-prohibition

[monastic-hedonist]

+ 🔥 Come on in Www.MonasticHedonist.com

[thegastronom-blog]

The Clover Club - A Gin Cocktail

The Clover Club - A Gin #Cocktail combining #gin #lemon and #raspberries for a delicious #drink

When most people see a pink cocktail, they automatically think it is a ladies’ cocktail, delicate and pink and super sweet. However, in the case of the Clover Club, this pink drink has a roots in a gentleman’s club in Philadelphia where a group of notable businessmen, lawyers, doctors and journalists met to drink and socialize, which was a decidedly manly affair notorious for cigar smoking,…

View On WordPress

[unqualifieddrinkcritic]

Channeling inner Downton. Cocktail time. His and hers, though technically hers and his, respectively.

[onehundreddrinks]

6. Martini (Pre-Prohibition)

1 oz old tom gin

1 oz sweet vermouth

2 dashes Angostura bitters

Pour ingredients into shaker. Shake and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with lemon zest.

There is some debate over the "original" Martini recipe: some pre-Prohibition recipes specify that the ingredients be stirred, not shaken; others call for 2 oz vermouth to 1 oz of gin, or the other way around. There is also the Martinez, a precursor to the Martini, which I intend to mix up once I pick up some Luxardo. In any case, this is what I thought might work well, at least until I run some experiments with my more exotic bitters. I think this first attempt turned out quite nicely, with the bitters effectively cutting the sweetness in both primary ingredients.

[theghostnotes-blog]

A friend about to open a bottle of pre-Prohibition bourbon. It tasted awesome...

[wednesdaydeadline]

How to Drink.

Part 1 – Drinking Out.

Leaving the refuge of home to have a drink or eight offers a handful of benefits. Obviously it comes with a price since you could do the same amount of drinking for a fifth of the price (or if you prefer, five times as much drinking for the same cost) at home. That’s maybe part two or three. This is part one, so let’s think about why you would go out to drink, and let’s let me tell you how to do it. We’ll start at the bar.

Chapter 1 – Going to a bar.

With the majesty of having somebody else hand you your drinks comes an additional perk of drinking in a bar: there’s a little regulation built in. Usually you’ll finish a drink before you get a new one. That’s especially true if the bar is crowded and getting a drink is a hassle. If you’re in a beer bar, the beers go down easy and you’ve got a minute or more between drinks. If you’re in a craft cocktail bar, savor each cocktail and think about the next drink if there’s going to be one. What would follow nicely? Don’t be so hasty for the next beverage that you feel a need for it when you’re only halfway done with your current drink. Finish one drink before getting another. That’s number one.

Number two is this: Know what you want, and have a back-up plan. One time I followed some friends into a bar in New York. It was in a trendy neighborhood and the contemporary trend was pre-prohibition era drinking. As a description goes, that one is a little off. Most of us wouldn’t like what our forefathers drank before prohibition (not to mention during it). Pre-prohibition in that sense refers to the craftsmanship that people were putting into cocktails up until they were outlawed. The trend I walked into took the fashion from those good old days, but it had not bothered with the craft.

The bartender had a big, respectable handlebar mustache and striped three-button vest, and a tie. His sleeves were rolled up with a cuff around the right arm to keep that sleeve dry. I looked at him, and looked around the place as it tried to evoke a speakeasy ambiance, and I decided I would have a French 75 and that this barman would make it well. When I asked for the drink he quickly dismissed the proposition while telling me he did not have the stuff to make it.

Now that told me one of two things: the man painstakingly dressed up as a bartender did not know how to make the drink, or that he had no house sparkling white open. I tend to lean toward the former.

I knew what I wanted, but I couldn’t get it. Rather than asking why I couldn’t have the drink or trying to make him feel foolish, or rather than standing at the crowded bar and thinking things over with a dumb look on my face, I had my back-up drink ready to go: a Gin and Tonic (pl.: Gins and Tonic). It’s a common, easy, and absolutely delicious drink. It’s my back up. It’s always in my pocket. Yours may be different. Think about it something you’re almost always in the mood for, something that’s easy to make, and something that’s common.

Now, you’ll notice that in that example I did not challenge the bartender on his decision to tell me he hadn’t the ingredients my the French 75 (sugar, lemon, gin, and sparkling white). It’s not because I was passive or feared the man who controlled the alcohol, but rather because he was my host. Imagine hosting a party for eight hours. Most of your guests are strangers. Some of them are jerks. Yet you strive to throw the party as best you can and make sure everybody is having a good time. Now, next time you walk into a bar, think of the bartender as that host. Think of yourself as a guest rather than a customer, and be a good guest. That’s three.

But there are four things I want to mention. That night I went to that trendy bar I’ve been referring to, I found a bartender who could not make me the drink I ordered. I was a kind guest, but I made note of the kind of party I was attending. I made a similar note a couple of years prior when I was a little broke and craving a Manhattan.

I had a little bit of cash to bring out with me when I went to a bar with some friends. I noticed that among the offerings written in dry-erase marker on the mirror behind the bar was a Manhattan. No time like the present, I thought. But my good host the bartender made me something wholly unlike the Manhattan I had in mind. He tried putting grenadine in it, and when I kindly asked him to leave it out as politely as possible (as if it were something that suddenly and curiously popped into my head as I said it aloud) he asked me if I would like bitters instead. Of course I wanted bitters—I sincerely didn’t know it was a question. When he finished building my drink he picked it up and shook the sanity out of it. I was disappointed, but my host was kind to me in every measurable respect and I was his humble guest—not one to tell him how to execute his drinks (maybe a lot of people like their Manhattans that way?).

Weeks later and in a better financial situation, I was still thinking about that ideal Manhattan I had still not had. I passed a bar near my house and saw a nice looking older man behind the stick with a smile on his face making conversation with one of his patrons. There were a number of people in the place, but I took an empty stool and asked for the Manhattan. He asked me if I wanted it up or on the rocks, and went straight to it as if he woke up wanting nothing more than to make a Manhattan that day. I had a feeling that I was in good hands. I was right. That drink was just what I wanted. Stirred, bitters, garnish, and greater than the sum of its rational parts.

So the next time I wanted a Manhattan I knew where to head. I went back to him, and I still do. So after all of that, here is four: Have a bartender. Have a bartender the way some people have hairstylists or talent agents. Have a bartender the way a hotel guest has a concierge: you’re not obsessed with him, but when you need something he’s the first guy you think of. And when you get a chance, let the bartender know you appreciate what he does.