Punches, acai and absinthe: Rare triple-header evening

I remember how I used to get so excited when I could go to two different events back to back. I felt like such a big kid back when I broke that personal record. Well, those days are gone, now that I've tackled the threefer. Especially more daring-do considering you've actually had event nights back to back.

So after whiskey night on the 24, on Monday I left work early to visit the Pegu Club. Dave Wondrich was giving his seminar on punches for Bols Genever. Some of you might remember the bitters presentation I went to a while back, which is also part of this educational series that Bols has been putting on.

As much as I tried to leave the office early-ish, by the time I was speed walking west on Houston I knew I thought I'd missed all the interesting bits and was going to just be there for the mingling portion. So imagine how pleased I was when I could hear Mr. Wondrich's voice as I climbed the stairs up to Pegu Club.

As I squeezed into an empty seat trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Dave was explaining the Meriton Latroon's Bantam Punch, dating from 1668, which lists as one of its ingredients ambergris. Yes, ambergris. When I thought about it, it made sense, not just because of the whole whaling industry, but because what was ambergris used for historically? With fragrances and scenting. So it made me wonder how much affect it had on the scent and flavor of the cocktail, and I kind of wish I could taste a punch both pre- and post- ambergris addition.

Meriton Latroon's Bantam Punch (1668)
- Ambergris
- 2 oz. Demerara sugar
- 2 bottles Batavia Arrack van Oosten
- 2 16-oz piece of Gula Jawa, or Indonesian palm sugar
- 12 oz lime juice
- nutmeg
- water

Method: In a mortar or small bowl, muddle a piece of ambergris the size of 2 grams of barley with 2 oz. of Demerara sugar until it has been incorporated. Add 4 oz. Batavia arrack and muddle again until sugar has dissolved. Break up 10 oz. of Gula Jawa, or Indonesian palm sugar, put it in a 4-quart bowl with 12 oz. lime juice and muddle together until sugar has (mostly) dissolved. Add the Ambergris-sugar-arrack mixture and stir. Add 2 750-ml. bottles of Batavia arrack (minus the 4 oz. you have already removed to mix with the ambergris), stir again, and finish with 6 to 8 cups cold water, according to taste. Grate nutmeg over the top.

Dave, also explained of the use of a mixture of sugar and oils, oleo saccharum, in old cocktails. Citrus wasn't always a common commodity, and to stretch the use of citrus, rather than relying on just the juice of a lemon or lime, the peel, or zest, along with sugar was used to get maximum citrus flavor out of each piece of fruit you used. For anyone who's read Dave's "Imbibe!" this should be familiar in the use of rough loaf sugar in the old punch recipes he featured. These gritty pieces of sugar would be rubbed all over a lemon or lime to sort of grate the zest, but also absorb the oils, infusing the sugar with flavor and scent.

The Hot Holland Punch that Dave introduced next used exactly this technique. This punch also highlighted a shift towards the use of gin in cocktails rather and is actually adapted from a whiskey punch recipe. A combination of historical factors, such as the advances in Dutch distilling and William of Orange coming to power with his wife Mary during the Glorious Revolution, increased the distribution, if not popularity of gin in England.

Hot Hollands Punch (circa 1750)
- Peel of 8 lemons
- 2 lemons, sliced
- 20 oz. lbs. (an archaic measurement) Florida Crystals or other fine-grained raw sugar
- 2 liters or 2 1/2 750-ml. bottles Bols Genever
- spice mix: 1 teaspoon fresh-ground nutmeg to 1/2 teaspoon each fresh-ground allspice and cloves.

Method: Muddle the lemon peels in the sugar. Let it sit for an hour to wick out the lemon oil and muddle again (the oleo saccharum that results from this process looks basically like an syrupy oil). Add 16 oz. boiling water. Stir to dissolve sugar. Fish or strain out the lemon peel and add the Genever. To serve, put in crock-pot with 2 quarts water and lemon slices. Add spice mix sparingly to taste. Ladle out also sparingly.

Unfortunately, Dave is pretty much an unquenchable fountain of historical tidbits, cocktail tips and recipes, which means that while I'm incredibly impressed with the amount of info I got even after being pretty unfashionably late, I can't write it all out without slamming you with a wall of text, so time for Awesome Dave Facts Quickfire:

- Serving punch hot: While probably nice and bracing on a cold day during older times when there wasn't really central air/heating, but is yet another way to boost lemon flavor and scent up another level without adding more of the ingredient. In fact, another practical by product of this "making citrus go as long as possible" technique is it kept people from ingesting too much acids when people would gather around a punch bowl and just drink.

- If you're going to serve punch hot, just make sure the spirit you're using is pot distilled. Dave said that pot-distilled spirits have a certain "oiliness" to them that works better when heated. So for example, if you're going to use Scotch whiskey, use a single malt and not something that's blended. Though there are exceptions, like bourbon. But just make sure it's not "too woody" but "You and rich and oily".

Oh, and one tip from me. Try some palm sugar. Dave had a jar open on the bar and invited some of us to try it. I popped a hunk in my mouth, and that stuff is mad delicious. It's like Mounds, except, no chocolate, or the weird flavorless sawdust of shredded coconuts that's left in your mouth long after you've chewed out all the tasty juices.

One thing interesting about the threefer is how easy it was to see how the different worlds of beverage events. Beverage events work sort of like a Venn diagram. Basically, where all the circles converge, the point is heightened awareness of a product. You can argue and label that as simply marketing, but there's a difference between an event meant for people in the industry, versus those geared towards consumers. And even with the former, you could break that down further to events aimed at those generally in the industry and at the microscopic level, events for those directly responsible with putting drinks in front of a guest. Nonetheless the resulting diagram is messy because at any point it can look like the result of a circus performer who twirls multiple hula hoops at once. All things are constantly in motion with overlaps of varying and dynamic sizes.

After the Bols event I trooped on over to Yerba Buena (the one on Perry Street) for a USBGNY mixer. In between being informed about changes made to the USBG by laws and memberships (a tiered system that differentiates between say enthusiasts or people who actually work behind a bar), and a talk from the folks from VeeV, the general mood of the mixer was, well, a mixer. So far, nothing out of the ordinary right? Drink geeks and all that getting together to get to know each other and just hang? Lay down some knowledge?

But then came my final stop of the evening for Pernod Absinthe. If the Bols event had the feel of studying for a test with a group of friends, and the mixer was more like a dorm hall meeting where everyone on the floor are sophomores and juniors (not a bad comparison, just setting up the mood to better convey how different these events are), the Pernod event was like walking into one of those crazy-cool parties you always see in alcohol commercials. Like people throwing guerilla parties in subways or attractive people dressed in ironically unattractive outfits writhing away to house music in a basement somewhere. Add a dollop of a gallery opening to that, and that was the party, because, really it was a party. No polite terminology like "mixer" here.



You could tell the event was making modern ties to the historic relationship between the arts and absinthe. The event was called "Histoire Vertes," and was described as "a version of a Cabaret Nouveaux." A lady downstairs posed with an elaborate outfit of scintillating red that flickered like flames, the work of stylist Cynthia Altoriso. Pretty cool stuff actually. Some more of her work, but NSFW for artsy nudity here and there. Photographer David White snapped images of Cynthia's work creating a series of absinthe posters, one of which came as image used for the invite. There was a DJ, pieces of artwork all over the place (both including the obvious kind, and the kind where you can't tell if that's a display or someone's hat hanging from the corner of a shelf). There was even a barber doing his thing independently of the event. That was his work space, the organizers of the absinthe party asked him if he wanted to stay open during the event, so he did. So the result was you felt like Alice in Wonderland. You tumbled up a narrow flight of stairs, only to find yourself in a dimly lit bar area with platters of food scattered about, people hunched around lavishly set up tables, absinthe fountains everywheeeeeere...then you're standing around in brightly lit space seeing people getting their haircut. So you back yourself back into the bar/lounge area, find a set of stairs, walk down, and all of the sudden I'm at a fashion/art party.

It was fun seeing the familiar bartenders, brand reps and other writers thrown into the mix with unfamiliar people from the creative industry. It was a whole different kind of energy. When I heard Pulp's "Common People," I decided I should finish my second Pommes Dilettantes (Pernod Absinthe, Absolut Kurant, St. Germain, peach bitters, unfiltered apple juice, fresh lemon juice) and start heading out the door.

Tangent: I don't know, as much as I like Pulp, hearing "Common People" at parties always makes me think I should be heading home. I think it's because Pulp played in public locations that are not bars, your friend's car in an almost empty parking lot with all the doors opened or, I don't know, an actual Pulp show or something conveys to me the feelings of the last dying couple of minutes of a house party.

Let me set the scene. The few people left are taking way too long to gather their crap and go home. Friends are trying to wake up passed out compatriots because the host is trying to clean up around the bodies draped over random bits of furniture. Meanwhile, you've been wanting to leave since an hour ago, but you can't because your friend is vaguely explaining his feelings to the girl he's had a crush on forever by hijacking the sound system and earnestly explaining the significance of some band that he just started listening to that summer. You're seriously contemplating that maybe you should just ditch him, however, experience tells you this will not end well, and he's going to need a shoulder to cry on on the way home. When you all finally rally and leave, you and your group of friends will end up driving around singing along badly and loudly to Blur's "Girls & Boys" to cheer him up until you all decide you want food and end up in a Denny's parking lot with all the doors wide open blaring Pulp.

Absinthe gummy bears and Negroni caviar

Taken at Tailor, Jan. 3


Absinthe gummy bears, cousin to the Sambuca gummy bears, gather to pay homage at the foot of the Great Negroni Caviar Bowl

I will say though, the absinthe variety of the gummy bear is sweeter than the sambuca version, and and tastes more like candy than the latter.

Absinthe sipping at La Fée's U.S. launch party

June 23

It seemed like La Fée really wanted to tie the image of their product to its history as being a muse for artists. The space rented for the event was a sort of all-purpose space billed for use as gallery and sometimes fashion show setting. Emerald green bottles of absinthe as well minty colored prepared versions of it stood out against the stark white setting of the place. Everything was white, the tables, chairs, linen. Except for one brightly-colored sofa that looked highly embarrassed that no one informed it that this would be a white-outfit party, the entire place was as white as a canvas with a fresh coat of gesso.

Even George Rowley, managing director of La Fée, seemed dressed for the space in a light suit with pastel colors reminiscent of sorbet.

George visited our offices last Friday to talk about the product and one of the things about the appeal of absinthe in today's market is that even with all the stories of the drink's naughtiness, it has actual historical and cultural significance and was the drink of choice for numerous artists. The brand seems to be very keen on emphasizing that particular aspect of the drink through a pretty image conscious way of marketing the product and sets it aside from other products on the market. Though La Fée produces several varieties of absinthe, from a "Bohemian" that's more of a Czech style as well as premium wine-based versions, the brand at the moment is only making La Fee's Absinthe Parisienne available in United States market to not dilute the image. The flagship product is modeled to be more like the traditional French absinthe with its beet-based neutral spirits that was formulated and approved by absinthe historian and author Marie-Claude Delahaye of Musée de l'Absinthe in France. The bottles also come with an absinthe spoon to help consumers enjoy it the way it was back in its heyday without being intimidated by the idea of not having all the necessary props. And, hey, free spoon.

The event really got into this artist imagery with five canvasses hung around the main area of the space at the event. Four of them depicted minimalist image and text related to an artist who partook of absinthe. A pedestal in front of these canvasses held the physical item depicted on the canvass giving the whole thing an even more of an installation feel. For example, one canvas showed a broken teacup, with text saying Van Gogh drank absinthe from a broken teacup. The pedestal in front of the canvas held a broken teacup. Later in the evening the canvasses got raffled off. For a second I kind of wanted one. Then I realized I don't know why I wanted one besides the fact they were offering it and raffles get me all excited. I also realized that if I really did win a canvas, I'd have to schlep it home somehow and my desire to win quickly dissipated.


On my way to this event, I took a right and Spring and as I was walking down Mulberry when I bumped into Leo DeGroff (Contemporary Cocktails) and his girlfriend Kaye Rabuy, and Pegu Club's Kenta Goto. They were on their way to the event as well and were coming from the NY Bar Show. I'd entirely forgotten that. Well, "forget" is incorrect. I was thinking about attending it, but noticed that the times and dates for the events and seminars I wanted to attend weren't working out with my schedule and I sort of put the whole thing out of my mind.

The main "art gallery" section had some tables serving up La Fée absinthe in the traditional manner, with water and sugar. They even had some absinthe fountains set up.

I said hello to Tony Abou-Ganim, then made my way into the adjoining room where the food was coming from. There were some tables and chairs set up and Damon Dyer (who mixes at Death and Co. and Flatiron Lounge) and Jonathan Pogash (The Cocktail Guru) were making Sazeracs (La Fée Absinthe Parisienne, sugar cube/granulated sugar, Peychuad's bitters, cognac), La Fée Sours (absinthe, fresh lemon juice, sugar, egg white), and Sea Foam Fizzes (absinthe, lemon juice, sugar, egg white and a touch of soda on top).

I even finally met Dave Kaplan, owner of Death and Co., putting a face to the voice.

Tad Carducci and Paul Tanguay (of the drink consulting firm The Tippling Bros.) were also present. And since we're on the topic of absinthe, the recently opened Apothecary Lounge in Philadelphia, where The Tippling Bros. consulted, has an elaborate absinthe fountain on premises.

Sometimes depending on the location (and slightly depending on the product), you can guess what the crowd will be like. I figured the Soho location would lend it to some hip persons making appearances, but I was also anticipating it to be a mish-mash of cool types and I was pretty on the money. I saw some very young ladies running around in Olsen twins' gear (large over-sized flannel shirt, shorts, huge plastic rim sunglasses) as well as a whole gaggle of leggy blondes in jewel-toned variations of shiny baby doll dresses. There were some music industry types. At one point you might find yourself talking to a dude in a crisp suit only to turn around and say "excuse me" to a guy in jeans and a graphic t-shirt.

It was one of those parties where you wander in and half the faces you recognize or you just feel like you might. Though honestly, there were several people there who just had "that face." You know, the kind where you could swear he was the guy who was in that thing about this thing, but you're not sure? Over the course of the evening, several times, from different persons (including myself), the refrain "Hey, that dude over there looks familiar," was repeated.

Also I really wanted the green lobster they had sitting on the pedestal for the Dali-themed canvas. Yea, no dice on that.

Working for the weekend: Dropping in on Eben Freeman

It wasn't too long ago when I used to joke about occupational vs. recreational drinking with friends. Lately, even that line is starting to blur a bit.

After trying the garam masala rum and hearing about the Masala Mai Tai and alcoholic gummy bears from Eben Freeman my curiosity had been piqued and I decided to stop by Tailor on the 17th, with fingers crossed, to see if I could get a sneak preview of some sorts. It was a Saturday, but I was already out and it was way too early to head back home.

I watched Eben scoop some ice into the metal half of a Boston shaker and then almost jumped back as he proceeded to pound the everliving life out of it with a muddler to make crushed ice for the Mai Tai.

I knew the answer, but had to ask if this was going to be standard procedure once this drink was on the menu. Eben said that the ice would definitely not be hand-crushed like that. In fact, don't even expect the finalized version to come with crushed ice. Eben explained that he was using crushed ice now because he thought the current Super Cinnamon strain of the garam masala rum would benefit from it. The recipe isn't different from a regular Mai Tai besides the use of the garam masala rum.

After chatting a bit about what else might be coming up on the new menu (wrestling with trying to create a pancake cream of sorts. It's for a breakfast-themed drink), I left promising to stop by when the new menu was in place.

I stopped by again on Friday though, because yet again I found myself to be in the area and had a good chunk of time to kill. I wasn't sure what the place would be like considering it was the start of the long weekend. It could've gone either way, but luckily it was quiet when I winded my way down to the bar. One of the bartenders, Troy, recognized me from Saturday and asked, "Does Eben know you're here?"

"No, no!" I said quickly, "I'm just here to hang out today."

But then curiosity got the best of me and I couldn't help but ask if there was anything new. This sent Troy upstairs to ask Eben before I could reach out and stop him to say, "Nnnnnooooo, I don't want to be a bother! I'm just here for a drink or two!"

While a bother I might have inadvertently made myself, I was glad I asked because soon I was given a three-piece serving of Sambuca Gummy Bears. So cute! So soft! These were test gummy bears in anticipation for the absinthe gummy bears that would go on the menu as part of the updated Solids beginning in June.

When Eben came downstairs he explained the bears were soft because they came from a batch made that day needed to sit for a day to firm up a bit.

"That's the basic idea for the absinthe gummy bears," he told me as I thoughtfully squished one of the sambuca bears between my thumb and forefinger. "Except, it'll be green."

I dutifully chomped off the head like I do whenever I encounter bear-shaped confections, whether they be of the gummy or graham cracker variety. As I contemplated the aniseed flavor, I realized I'd fallen for another one of Eben's puns again. It had its own logic. Absinthe and sambuca have that licorice-like flavor. Licorice=candy.

"My God, it comes full circle," I thought, as I nibbled the arms and legs off the gummy bear torso.

When Sam Mason came downstairs to snag some of Eben's house-made cocktail onions for something he was working on in the kitchen, Eben speared one for me out of the jar so that I could have a taste. It was more briny than vinegary, and on top of that, super crunchy. It made me think I should order a Gibson the next time I was in.

There was nothing else new to report on. The pancake cream was still a headache, but Eben made me a Kaffir Lime Collins he used to make at WD-50. A Tom Collins amplified with some muddled kaffir lime leaves, it was simple, but full of flavor and refreshing.