Benito vs. the Cocktail: The Salty Pamplemousse

Sometimes when I crave things that are odd or outside the mainstream, people think it's an affectation or that I'm deliberately trying to be weird. Quite the contrary--there are a million flavors out there and only so many meals you get in your life. And typically anything odd that I try is beloved by hundreds of thousands of people somewhere. I think in the American diet from WWII to the present we abandoned a lot of things for various reasons: tea and coffee are bitter, so mask the bitterness with sugar and cream and other flavors. Organ meats are weird and the things we used to have to eat during hard times, so we must shun them and only eat the muscles. Fish somehow shouldn't smell like fish, and thus we praise the flavorless white fillets where the only flavor comes from the fried batter encasing. Processed cheese is deliberately engineered to remove any texture or aroma or flavor of "real" cheese. Wine should never be earthy, it must always be big and fruity. And so on and so forth.

The following cocktail was made in praise of bitterness, namely in the form of grapefruit juice. No sugar or other sweeteners, just the tart bitter joy of a half glass first thing in the morning. And while I had a half gallon in the fridge and some free time on a Sunday afternoon, it was time to use the ingredients lying around the kitchen to make a new cocktail.

Mixing two different cocktail recipes together is generally a bad idea. A Michelada Margarita is a recipe for disaster. A Rob Roy Wine Spritzer would... I don't even want to contemplate the flavor. But I put a few things together in my head with this one, and was very happy with the result.

Benito's Salty Pamplemousse Cocktail
2 oz. Gin
2 oz. Unsweetened Ruby Red Grapefruit Juice
Tonic Water
Dash of Fee Bros. Grapefruit Bitters
Kosher Salt

Start with moistening the rim of the glass with water and dip into a dish of the salt of your choice. Pink Himalayan would be an attractive and decadent choice for a trendy bar. The rest is easily mixed in the glass with ice. Combine the Gin and Juice and Bitters (the name of my upcoming rap album under my stage name "Ice Tongs" featuring "The Boston Shaker"). Stir carefully with a bar spoon so as not to dislodge the salt, and top off with tonic water. Serve immediately.

This is the accidental cross between a Salty Dog (vodka + grapefruit juice) and a Gin & Tonic (er, gin + tonic water). The idea was to boost the bitterness of the former with the quinine of the tonic water and botanicals of the gin. The sugar in the tonic water would mediate things a bit, the effervescence of the tonic water would make it a little more fun, and the bitters would add that little touch to make it special, like good bitters always do. As for the salt, if you've never had salted fresh grapefruit it's one of the greatest things in the world. I detest salt on margaritas but here it's divine.

The flavors all work quite well together, and I am sure that the ratios could be tweaked a bit to perfect it. But I found one to be just right on this bright, sunny, warm day during this preternatural winter we're experiencing. As always, if you try one of my original concoctions, please let me know what you think in the comments or by e-mail.

Musings on the Manhattan

As long time readers should know, though I enjoy inventing new cocktails and having fun with mixology, at heart I adore the classics. My two favorites are the Martini and Manhattan, and which one I prefer at any given moment depends a lot on mood and atmosphere and the ingredients at hand.

A bad but serviceable Martini can be made in pretty dire circumstances: a clear liquor, a shaker of ice, and a brined vegetable or strip of citrus peel, and you can achieve something bracing but able to perform the work at hand. I prefer a Martini as an aperitif, something strong but bracing and crisp that gets you ready for four courses and half a dozen different wines.

The Manhattan is different. It requires a higher degree of civilization. Whiskey/Whisky can be found everywhere, but bitters and Sweet Red Vermouth are a must, and so many bad variations are made in bars that it's often a losing proposition to order one in the first place. I once ordered said cocktail in a bar that shall not be named, and the bartender said, "Manhattan. Got it. Crown Royal and Dr. Pepper. Give me one second." And I said, "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Good day, sir!" I swear that the silk ribbon on my top hat positively wilted at that egregious faux pas.

Your worst Martini might have ruined rotgut vodka that spent a few hours in steel tubing, but a bad Manhattan ruins years of barrel aging in oak. Keep these things in mind when you're mixing drinks.

When I'm in the mood for a Manhattan, it's normally with the company of other guys and as a prelude to a dinner of hearty red wines and lots of rare red meat. To do it properly, you need control over your own ingredients. Better, older whiskey will make for a better Manhattan, and quality bitters are essential.

Here I lined up the various components I assembled after a long, hard day at work, and a desire for something relaxing but dignified:

• Cocktail Shaker with Ice and a Long Spoon
  
• One Shot of Gallo Red Vermouth (in place of my beloved Noilly Prat)
  
• Two shots of Michter's US*1 Single Barrel Straight Rye Whiskey
  
• Two dashes of Fee Bros. Whiskey Barrel Aged Bitters
  
• A Cherry That's Been Soaking in Bourbon for Weeks

The end result was amazing, rich and spicy and with layers and layers of complexity. Even the cherry, the weakest part of the whole cocktail, was delightful upon consumption. When you have the opportunity, take the time to craft the very model of a modern major Manhattan, and enjoy the warmth and relaxation that flows from the glass.

Benito vs. the Cocktail: The Admiral Benbow

The Admiral Benbow Inn. It's a place where Jim Hawkins stayed in Treasure Island, and it shares a name with this cocktail I'll get to in a moment. But for anyone from Memphis, there's a far different association.

There are good hotels, affordable but clean motels, and places that are a little sketchy but sometimes the only option when there's a big convention in town or you just need a few hours of shuteye before getting back on I-40 heading toward one of the coasts. There are the places that show up on the news for various criminal activity, and then there's the Admiral Benbow. By the 1980s it was a haven for all sorts of weird, sad crime. If you had a friend who called in tears and needed a ride home at two in the morning, it wouldn't be too much of a surprise to find him at the Admiral Benbow, missing his car, wallet, and most of his pride.

It was the site of the 1986 Memphis Trousers Affair, in which former Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser was found in the lobby wearing nothing but a towel, and confused as to where his pants were.

This is an older and somewhat obscure cocktail, but it contains classic ingredients and proportions. You're supposed to use Plymouth Gin, but in tribute to the Inn I went a little downmarket with a regular domestic gin.

The Admiral Benbow Cocktail
2 oz. Plymouth Gin
½ oz. Fresh Squeezed Lime Juice
1 oz. Dry White Vermouth
Garnish with Citrus Peel and Maraschino Cherry

Combine everything but the garnish in a cocktail mixer with ice. I tried one shaken and one stirred, and found that I preferred the cloudy appearance of the shaken version. Reminded me a bit of some bad motels I've stayed in across the country where you get a glass of water from the tap and it has to settle for a few minutes before it's no longer cloudy.

The cocktail has a nice balance of elements, though the lime juice covers up most of the vermouth. Sort of a very tart martini, and while it won't be in the main rotation, I think I'll come back to it every once in a while. The stories alone are worth it.

Benito vs. the Cocktail: The Suffering Bastard

On the hour-long drive home from work (rain, Memphis traffic, and construction) I dreamily thought through the ingredients in the old home bar and mentally flipped through a few recipes I'd read recently. One popped to mind, and thus upon arrival at the house my butler I began to combine the ingredients for a restorative beverage. The Suffering Bastard is an old cocktail with a lot of variations. It was invented as a hangover cure in late 1940s Cairo. Think a Casablanca-style bar catering to westerners in post-war North Africa.

There are many versions of this involving some crazy substitute ingredients, but I settled on this one from Robert Hess because it had a kind of Sidecar vibe that I was liking. And about halfway through the cocktail, I introduced the ginger ale to try that style.

The Suffering Bastard

1 oz. Gin
1 oz. Lime Juice
¾ oz. Bourbon
Dash of Angostura Bitters
Ginger Ale to taste

Combine ingredients in glass and stir. Garnish options include all or some of the following: maraschino cherry, orange wedge, sprig of mint, and cucumber peel. Go crazy if you're making it for something else, but a young bachelor making a cocktail for himself after work might want to stick to those ingredients that can be poured from bottles or pulled from jars (though he will squeeze fresh lime juice, because he is not an uncivilized wretch).

The list of ingredients seems insane, but this works amazingly well. It somehow ends up tasting more like fresh squeezed orange juice than a Screwdriver, and you can't detect the presence of either Bourbon or gin. The citrus and bitters combine with the aromatic liquors to produce a strangely balanced new flavor. WIth ginger ale, it moves from a tart and powerful cocktail to a refreshing icy sipper that would be great in the summer. I'd say mix up a pitcher of this and serve it at a party before you tell folks what's in it. They should be pleasantly surprised.

2012 Margarita

The Margarita is one of America's least-respected cocktails. The origin is so simple: good tequila, fresh lime juice, orange liqueur, and a bit of sweetness if desired. Served shaken or over ice, but fresh and with little bits of fresh lime pulp popping between your teeth. Instead, we get green slushes mixd up with white rum or vodka and as long as it's tart and sweet and served in a salted glass, everyone is happy.

I'm not a tequila expert, but I do tend to be a purist when it comes to the margarita. And while I love the classic lime, I've always felt it was in the spirit of the cocktail to use other freshly squeezed citrus, like my Blood Orange Margarita.

For this I used a basic 4:2:2:1 ratio, which is four parts tequila, two parts lime juice, two parts orange liqueur, and one part simple syrup. The tequila is listed below, but I was really impressed with a new orange liqueur I found. O3 is made by DeKuyper and is clear and slightly sweet like Cointreau. It's made from Brazilian pera oranges and has a great fresh orange peel aroma to it. Not really sour or bitter but focused on the sweet and fruity aspects of the orange.

Lunazul Reposado
$30/1.75L bottle, 40% abv.

A decent and affordable tequila with a good bit of oak and earth on the nose. It's got that classic tequila tang to it but with more depth than I was expecting. As a cocktail ingredient it made for a great margarita, just enough agave aroma and flavor to make it authentic without being overwhelming in any direction.