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.

Tales is still months away, but I celebrated it with Saveur

Jan. 2

Interesting facts gleaned from the evening.

1) Punch is delicious. (more of a restatement rather than a discovery)
2) Eben Freeman listens to T.I.

I usually sneak into Tailor right when it opens and run out way before the night really begins for people with real lives, so I'd never really been in the place when there's lots of people in it.

The event was in anticipation of Tales of the Cocktail (coming to a New Orleans near you, June 2009), and to say, "Hey, we're partnered with Saveur now." So it wasn't all bartenders, but a mix of bar folks, brand folks and media types. Don Lee and John Deragon were there, but bailed out early to my indignant cries of "Weeeeeeeeeeak saaaaaaaauuuce." As I squeezed my way to and fro in the crowd I spotted other familiar faces. I was pleased to see that Allen Katz was still sporting his a la souvarov and there was also Tony Conigliaro, whom I hadn't seen since Tales. Even Camper English from the West Coast was in attendance.



I'd brought my friend Marc Almendarez along to take photos for me. Longtime readers may recognize his work from our previous collaboration at a Rhum Clement contest a little while back. The lighting in Tailor is very tricky and I've always had terrible luck taking photographs there and on a more personal level Eben Freeman has been poking fun at my not so stellar photo work. So I decided to prove him wrong...by having a friend take photos for me. Hey, it's a solution of sorts. That place is like expert level, and I am not an expert, so why not borrow the expertise of a friend. And for the record, I am totally capable of taking decent photos. Sometimes.



There were two punches being served for the first part of the evening. The first was Captain Radcliffe's Punch. The recipe comes from a 17th century poem written by and English army captain and as Dave Wondrich called him, a "rake," Alexander Radcliffe. It's made with Ansac VSOP Cognac, Sauternes, freshly grated nutmeg and lemon. The second was the Regent's Punch. Dave explained the punch's origin to the crowd. It was named for George the IV, the 19th century prince regent. While George III was busy being mad, George IV was busy running the country, and this particular punch was his favorite tipple. I don't blame the guy. First, because ruling a country instead of your nutty dad is a tough job that could drive anyone to drink and second, this stuff was delicious.



The plan for the latter half of the evening was a time for folks to talk to Ann Tuennerman about Tales and what to look forward to. Since this portion of the event was to be sponsored by Hendrick's Gin, a gin drink would be necessary. As people were still dipping into the punchbowls I watched Eben at the other end of the bar vigorously shake a small container. I was curious but went back to busily filling my glass with what punch was left before they swapped out drinks. I chatted a bit with Jordana Rothman from Time Out New York who was telling me how she read my blog. I know, I was surprised too. Apparently, people actually read this thing.

I turned around to the bar again after talking with Jordana to see if there was any more of that punch. Troy, who was working behind the bar with Ashley that evening, pushed a small beaker-type vessel in front of me with liquid that looked kind of like beer.

"What's this?" I asked.

Troy said it was the Pimm's Pony. A drink of Eben's from back in the WD-50 days. It was Pimm's, gin, Sprite and a bit of cucumber foam made by shaking some cucumber juice. Cucumber juice? Well, I don't know if extract is the word. That makes it sound like it's from concentrate or something. Juice works, right? I mean, it's just liquid from cucumber. Cucumber water? Anyhow, I then figured out that that's what I saw Eben shaking a couple of minutes before. I also realized that this was supposed to be the gin drink for the "after" party and I'd unofficially started the after party 10 minutes before everyone else. Not that I'm complaining.

I offered Simon Ford a sip from my scientific chalice as I talked to him about his vacation in South America. He couldn't be at the Beard Off because of the trip, but his beard was able to make an appearance sans him, thanks to modern container technology. Just then Eben passed by and overheard Simon ask what was in the Pimm's Pony and Eben gave the list of ingredients and said that the cucumber foam was there to fool you into think it'd be a smooth, soothing drink, only to have it punch you in the gut.

I joked to our food editor Mr. Bret Thorn and his friend Blain Howard that at some point in my life getting handed strange drinks that a lot of times just sort of magically appear at the ready became part of my job. As if to drive this point home, as soon as I finished what was left in the beaker-glass I was nursing, Ashley set down a full-on wine goblet of more Pimm's Pony in front of me.

"Oh, dear," I thought. I was hoping to make an early escape, but as Tony Abou-Ganim once told me, wasting alcohol is a terrible thing. I tried to soldier on through a couple of sips. I ultimately gave up the fight and walked away. If I continued, I would've risked stumbling into work in a disreputable state the next day because the Pimm's Pony definitely had a healthy kick to it not unlike an irate, er, pony.

I'm supposed to be on vacation...

Sept. 17

So after flying half way across the world to take a vacation, I found myself hurrying through a neighborhood I did not know in a country I had never been in so I could track down a cocktail lounge.

The week before I left New York for London I had been talking to Jim Meehan over the phone about the new drink menu at PDT. I had met Jim at the New York Taste of the Nation event where he represented Gramercy Tavern and mixed the Rickshaw, a basil-infused version of a gimlet.

While catching up with how things were going with the new menu, curiosity got the best of me and I asked if he happened to know of any bars that I should check out while in London.

He pointed me towards several leads, and that is how I found myself in front of The Lonsdale the same day I landed in London. I was still frazzled since I arrived in the city at 6 am and was still trying to get used to getting around the city, but with only a few minor snags I made it to meet with head bartender Charles Vexenat.

For some reason, in my head I expected a strait-laced older gentleman impeccably dressed without a hair out of place, but was met with a young man dressed in a hip t-shirt and jeans ensemble with scruffy facial hair and perfectly mussed blond hair.

The Lonsdale opened in 2003 and Charles joined the staff six month after to design the menu. Dedicated to featuring classic cocktails that originated in the United Kingdom, the menu for the award winning cocktail lounge is like a thick textbook about cocktails with its table of contents dividing the drink menu into chapters and brief introduction accompanying the sections. Each drink even comes with a note of origin. For example, Charles started me off with a Mayfair Cocktail, which is made by shaking gin, fresh orange juice and spice-infused apricot brandy. The menu notes that the drink originated in 1921 at the Embassy Club in London and explains the origin of the drink's name.

Some cocktails are grouped under "The Old British Influence," with subsections for drinks that fall under categories such as flips, punches & cups, sours and sangarees. Other sections include contemporary drinks as well as a spirit list and wine list.

Charles explained that there is a rich history of British cocktails coming from numerous influences, whether it those created in during the early 1900s to the 1950s in five-star hotels like the Savoy and Ritz or those created from influences brought back from India and the Caribbean. For instance, there are a lot of gin based drinks, then there's also rum from the British colonies. He continued that people enjoy learning about old cocktails. With the trend of people desiring fresh ingredients, old cocktails using freshly squeeze juices and infused spirits also are desirable.

When Charles moved to London from France in 2000, he began working in bars. He noticed that chefs in the kitchen worked with a system and he said he wondered, "Why couldn't we do that in the bar?" He began working to learn the bar trade in earnest and has under his belt experience working in London bars such as La Floridita and the Lab Bar, and he also worked at Tres Agaves tequila bar in San Francisco.

I mentioned that I particularly enjoyed pisco and pisco sours and Charles whipped one up. Pisco sours have egg whites in recipe, so vigorous shaking is required to reach a correct frothy level. However, Charles explained that while in Peru, he learned that rather than shaking the drink vigorously, locals blended the cocktail with a little ice that gave it a "super frothy head." He continues to travel and learn new things, such as the pisco sour technique he picked up while working with pisco distillers in Peru or working with tequila distillers in Mexico.

I learned a new thing myself that day. I learned about the existence of sangritas, little shots that accompany tequila. Usually tomato-based, the non-alcoholic shot can contain anything to create a mix of sweet, sour and spicy flavors. I couldn't get the exact recipe from the bartender who offered me a sangrita, but Charles said it was her specialty and there was a mention of Worcestershire sauce.

Mayfair cocktail(gin shaken with fresh orange juice, and spice-infused apricot brandy)

Summer gin punch

(fresh raspberries, lemon, ornage and pineapple stirred over ice with gin, maraschino liqueur and soda)