Monthly Moonshine: Red Passion

As it turns out, I'm a bit old fashioned when it comes to my taste in alcohol. I should have realized this when I started drinking gin in university and several people asked if I was secretly an eighty-year-old man. This was usually followed by a remark about drinking pine trees (which, okay, fair, juniper has a distinctly pine-y scent to it). On the plus side, no one ever wanted to drink my alcohol at a party.

The next time I should have realized it was my discovery of the sidecar, the classic cocktail invented c. 1920. But no. I didn't even realize it when I fell hard for Pimm's on a hot summer day. It took a taste of Campari for me to really see it.

I was out with some members of my food writing class at Acadia restaurant in Toronto. We were there for the cocktails because the bar tender there is superb and very knowledgeable in what seem to be the forgotten arts of the cocktail (bitters, flavour complexity, syrups, etc.). I had a drink whose name I can't recall but whose flavour was strong with Camapri. I didn't know what the flavour was at first. Just that it had a sharp bitterness and a bit of spiciness smoothed out by subtle, underlying sweetness. 

I fell in love with Campari then and there. I also realized that Campari is a bit of an older drink: a lot of friends didn't even know what it was, and if they did it was only due to one the iconic vintage posters such as this one.

Campari has a distinct, vibrant red colour and is a staple in such classic cocktails as the Negroni and the Americano. It falls into the category of bitters, like angostura bitters, but unlike angostura bitters, which are used only in dashes, Campari is a potable bitter. Most people just call it an aperatif. 

Campari was invented in 1860 in Novara, Italy by Gaspare Campari and is made of an infusion of herbs, aromatic plants, fruit, alcohol and water. The recipe, like that of Pimm's and so many other herbal-based liqueurs, is top secret and apparently only known by very few people. 

I'll be honest, if you don't like bitter, you probably won't like Campari. I have an affinity for all things herbal and floral (lavender and rose are a couple of my favourite flavours), so I don't mind that it has a flavour some might liken to that of perfume. It's almost astringent in its bitterness, like biting into orange peel or the lingering tang of over-steeped black tea. It's just about my favourite thing right now.

This love of bitterness may also be why I prefer more classic cocktails. Older recipes tend to include a bitter element, whether in the form of cocktail bitters, like angostura; potable bitters, like Campari; or bitter alcohol, like gin. Today's cocktails slide much closer to the cloyingly sweet and syrupy, the headache-in-a-glass variety.

But that's okay. Now I not only have gin and Pimm's, but Campari. Cheers.

Monthly Moonshine: Black Russian

I have to tell you...as I was contemplating cocktails to share with you I realized I had very little alcohol to mix anything complex. So that is a problem I will rectify by the time our next Monthly Moonshine rolls around. 

And then I decided that I need to get over my bias against vodka. That, and it turns out my sister and I have three separate kinds of vodka in our freezer and it's about time we used some of that.

So I bring you the Black Russian.

The Black Russian was invented in 1949 by Gustave Tops at a hotel bar in Brussels, Belgium for American ambassador Perle Mesta. It is so named for the use of vodka, a typically Russian spirit, and the dark hue of coffee liqueur. It seems strange, given the political climate at the time and the impending Cold War, that such a drink would be created for an American diplomat, but there you have it.   

Like every cocktail ever invented, opinions vary as to the correct ratios. However, in this case I found a clear trend toward 1 1/2 oz vodka and 3/4 oz coffee liqueur. So that's how I made mine. I would recommend using Russian vodka, for obvious reasons, but I found some Grey Goose so I used that. Kahlua is probably the most common choice for the coffee liqueur, but Tia Maria is also popular. 

In an old fashioned glass pour vodka over ice followed by the coffee liqueur. Stir and enjoy! Since this cocktail has no mixers to speak of it packs a bit of a punch. The coffee flavour hits you first, but it's quickly followed by a bite of vodka. 


My inner geek is certain that this is Black Widow's cocktail of choice. It appears unassuming, almost sweet on the surface, definitely nice to look at, but don't let your guard down because it will knock you off your feet. I'm sure her fellow Avengers would agree.

Monthly Moonshine: Belated Martini

So I missed April's Monthly Moonshine. Sadly, I'm sure no one's surprised. Oh well. I will try my best to have another one for you at the end of this month. On time, preferably. In any case, I recently fell prey to Pinterest, and all the recipes that I'll test will likely end up here if they prove worthy of sharing.

For now, I bring you the martini. 

The martini is one of those cocktails that everyone seems to know. Made famous by James Bond who preferred his shaken, it is steeped in history, romanticism, and a certain amount of swagger. Sadly, in recent times, it also seems to be made primarily with vodka. For those who enjoy vodka, I'm sure that's seen as rather an improvement, but I'm a gin girl, and I like mine better that way.

Now, you should know, there are more ways to make a martini than I can count. As I just established, the first major division is vodka or gin. Then of course dryness. 'Dry' refers to how much vermouth is used in making it. I like mine very dry, so the most I do is swirl the vermouth around the glass enough to coat it, and then dump it. Some prefer olives, and some prefer a twist of lemon. Sometimes I'll even have it dirty, which involves the addition of olive brine.

The internet is rife with different martini recipes, but I'm here to tell you how I make mine.

First, as I mentioned, swirl some vermouth around the glass to coat it and discard the excess. Then shake two ounces of gin (I prefer Bombay Sapphire) with ice in a cocktail shaker. Some people don't like shaking because they claim it 'bruises' the gin. I'm not sure what this means and I've never noticed any difference. That may be because of my unrefined palette, but if your palette can't detect minute differences, you probably won't notice this either. 

Also, I like using my cocktail shaker. It's fun. 

Strain your chilled gin into your glass and add a few olives. It's as easy as that. Of course it's best when it's cold, so you have to drink it fairly quickly. I wouldn't recommend a lot of them, and they aren't for everyone. If you prefer vodka, definitely use it instead. 

And if you ever want to order one at a bar, just ask for a gin martini, very dry, with olives.

Monthly Moonshine: An Introduction and a Sidecar

I have to tell you, I've always loved cocktails. They're so much fun and there's so much room for creativity. There's also a lot of room for unmitigated disaster, but that's why people write down the good cocktails when they happen upon a combination that works.

I prefer the simple cocktails, the ones that have three or four ingredients and come together in a couple of minutes. Usually if I feel like having a drink I open a beer or, if I'm feeling a bit more sophisticated, a bottle of wine. But in an attempt to broaden my drinking horizons I'm going to feature a drink at the end of each month; some monthly moonshine, if you will (though I'm not going to be trying any actual moonshine). I was toying with the idea of doing this bi-weekly, but in the name of preserving funds and preventing alcoholism, I think monthly is appropriate.

I might mix a cocktail one month, try a different bottle of wine in another, let you know about a particularly interesting beer, or even about a bar or restaurant that offers something unique in the drink world. I might even venture into the world of whiskey. Today I bring you the Sidecar.

Like all famous cocktails, the origins of the Sidecar are debatable, though people seem to agree that it first appeared in the 1920s. Some say it was invented in London, others say in Paris, and who knows? Wherever it came from, it was popular. The people of the twenties loved their Sidecars.

For whatever reason the Sidecar is one of those drinks that dropped of the face of the planet for a while. Like gin it had the stigma of being a grandparent's drink. But old is new again and old fashioned cocktails are on the rise, likely, in part, due to shows like Mad Men and Boardwalk Empire.

Since it's been in hiding for so long, I found a wide variety of recipes, all claiming to be the 'authentic' Sidecar. About the only thing they agreed on was the ingredients: brandy, triple sec, and lemon juice. Of course the purists get specific and say it needs to be Cognac and Cointreau. I had neither so I used St. Remy brandy and whatever brand of triple sec I had lying around.

Next there was a debate about the ratios. In some cases the drink called for twice as much brandy as the other two liquids and others used more triple sec. I also found several that used equal parts of each, so as a compromise that's what I did. Given the colour of my drink when I finished compared with the slightly darker colour of pictures online, I think that most people throw in the extra brandy.

Either way it was a good cocktail. Just the right amount of tanginess with a smooth finish. The alcohol wasn't overpowering and it's refreshing. I may have found my new cocktail of choice.

The following is the recipe I used, but feel free to double the brandy if you're so inclined.

Sidecar
3/4 oz brandy
3/4 oz triple sec
3/4 oz freshly squeezed lemon juice

Place all ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake well and strain into a chilled martini glass. Enjoy!

The freshly squeezed juice really does make a difference over the bottled stuff, so I would recommend buying a lemon. If anyone tries it with 1 1/2 oz brandy, let me know how it turns out!