Just another Friday

Well, what can you say? Liza Minelli summed it up nicely in Cabaret when, as Sally Bowles, she pronounced "Divine decadence, darling" about life in Berlin to the tyro Brian Roberts, played by Michael York. The following pic neatly encapsulates, too, that lovely feeling when work is over for another week and you can begin to enjoy yourself... Did somebody mention work?

The shaker full of gin and ice, the glass about to be sprayed with French vermouth – just a wee skoosh, as we say in Glasgow – plus three pimento-stuffed olives for the perfect Dry Martini. And the meal? Why a plate of oysters, served with lemon, tabasco, a finely chopped shallot in balsamic vinegar and buttered wholemeal bread. The oysters, beautifully fresh and bought from MacCallums in Finnieston, Glasgow – surely the best fishmongers In Scotland; they also have an oyster bar in Troon. Don't take my word for it; follow this link...

http://uktv.co.uk/food/outlet/aid/620531

I imagine Miss Bowles would enjoy such decadence – even more so as there's little chance of any horrible Nazis on the horizon to spoil things for everybody. She did like to enjoy herself...


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CX-24Zm0bjk

Meanwhile, back in Glasgow, I almost expect Charles Baudelaire and Paul Verlaine to stumble through the door to partake in the festivities. Mind you, there's no absinthe on offer en ce moment. A symbolist moment, perhaps, nevertheless.
And yet it's not realism, as such, that the modern sensualist disdains; it's reality.

All white on the night

There's something mysterious and fabulously alluring about ordering a cocktail named White Lady. Here's three to be going on with...

As usual, the science is inexact regarding how to mix them, and equally common is the provenance of their invention. There are those who maintain that the White Lady – apparently also known as a Delilah or the rather mawkish Lillian Forever – is essentially a Sidecar fashioned from gin rather than cognac. 

Two American Harrys claim the credit: 

1/ Harry MacElhone at Harry's Bar in Paris circa 1929.

2/ Harry Craddock of the Savoy. If you've been looking closely you'll have noticed I have ranted somewhat about the seeming genius of the latter in a previous post. Craddock published his recipe in the Savoy recipe Cocktail Book in 1930.

And Laurel and Hardy loved a White Lady, so it is reported. That's funny.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yoPb-amgbs

The Craddock recipe in the Savoy book goes like this...

1/2 part gin

1/4 part Cointreau

1/4 part lemon juice

Shake well with ice then strain into glass.

Some recipes add the white of an egg and, I must say, this gives the drink a smooth, silky finish. I prefer Triple Sec instead of Cointreau and I'd use Bombay Sapphire gin (I trust you are looking at this, you old Bombay Sapphire distiller, you, and despatch my reward immediately) which I keep in the freezer. Give the mix a jolly good shake. Garnish the rim of the cocktail glass with a slice of lemon or lime and pour. The three glasses in my picture above were made using this method.

What, however, if you believe that the White Lady has been given too much deference and that the Black Lady is a victim of some kind of cocktalian discrimination? In which case, you might use dark rum instead of gin. And lime might be preferable to lemon. I know a couple of Jamaican worthies who would happily go for this amendment.

On a Health & Safety note, you might not wish to carry cocktails around on the tray in my picture. A chum did that very thing one Christmas and broke two of my six exquisite Bohemian glass champagne flutes. A far better plan is to transport them on a clever invention called the Safetray. Check it out in this video...

www.safetrayproducts.com 

Ah yes, the best inventions are always the simplest ones.

A jigger of gin...

So, as I mentioned in my last post, a chum of mine is prone to a martini or two – prone being the operative word. Here he is after a night on the tiles and following the consumption of one too many. From the angle of his half-cocked top hat, it appears as if Little Minky – that's the chap's moniker – had a good session. He certainly found favour in the arms of Gertie the showgirl from the Cafe de Paris. And by the size of the empty cocktail glass, it looks as if he could leap into it. Perhaps that's what he did, in fact. A bath of dry martini – what a way to go.

As the advert says –

A jigger of gin is just enough to give your kids a treat.


Here's another you can sing along to as well...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qW91UmjHdNo&feature=fvsr

What would we do without them?

It's just after 6pm on a Friday, the magic cocktail hour. So what do you do?
Children can be wonderful – even when they're all grown up. Some might say, especially when they're all grown up. My family were very kind this Christmas – and apposite. They gave me a whole bunch of goodies connected to my latest interest – cocktails. They like to mix with the right sort, too.

Check out the items in the picture: two fab books about classic cocktails, a selection of bitters, a box of exotic spices to enliven a champagne cocktail and the piece de resistance – that silvery cigar-shaped object is a spray device engraved with the words "mix with the right sort" which is, of course, the name of the blog. How clever! 

What you do is: fill the little chamber inside with vermouth – Noilly Prat is preferable – then spray it on the inside of the glass. Then top up with gin which has been languishing in the freezer. Three pimento-stuffed olives for me. And pretty fine, too, for the lady in the picture above; she does seem to be enjoying the attention.

As Ogden Nash remarked about the Dry Martini...

There is something about a Martini,

A tingle remarkably pleasant;

A yellow, a mellow Martini;

I wish that I had one at present.

There is something about a Martini,

'Ere the singing and dancing begin,

And to tell you the truth,

It is not the vermouth –

I think that perhaps it's the gin.

My thanks to other chums for that last poem – they gave me a framed copy of Nash's poem on another occasion. These chums have just purchased a new superfridge – it has a compartment which releases crushed ice at the press of a button. I'll have to get one ... then for the perfect mint julep.

Meanwhile, I have another chum who likes a wee drappie o' it. I'll tell you more about him soon.

From Parnassus' heights...

Chocolate didn't come from Mount Parnassus, of course, but it makes a neat headline.
If not the food of the gods, chocolate is most certainly, the food of the decadent. Not that sweet milky stuff, so beloved of Quakers from Birmingham and our precious little 'uns, but the dark, adult, fiercely self-indulgent substance that measures itself in high percentages of cocoa solids.
And if a chunk or two of that isn't enough to get your tastebuds flowing, why not make a cocktail out if it?
I'm not the first to think of that, of course, but following a feast of cocktail-related gifts I received at Christmas, I've added another drink to the canon. And, hopefully, even Canon Cholmondley of Worcester might enjoy one, too. After vespers, naturally. Don't confuse it for communion wine, whatever you do, Canon.
I'm naming this cocktail Ironically Hot Chocolate. Not, ironically, Hot Chocolate – note the commas and lower case 'i' in the latter phrase. And you'll see in a sec where the heat emanates from.
So here's what you do...

Ironically Hot Chocolate


Blitz a few squares of dark 80% cocoa solids chocolate and empty on to a large plate
300ml excellent Russian or Polish wodka (I do like the sound of it spoken with a 'w') which has been languishing in the tundra – or freezer compartment if it's more convenient
50ml Creme de Cacao
Good dash of Xocolatl Mole bitters
Dash of tabasco sauce (deep, deep heat!!!)
Squeeze of lime juice
Add the liquid ingredients to 4 lumps of ice in a cocktail shaker and give it a frisky shake
Run a wedge of lime round the edge of your cocktail glasses then dip into the dark chocolate blitzed earlier
Pour mixture into the glasses
Dust cocoa powder over the surface of each with the help of a sieve.
Serves 4-6, depending on the demands of your guests.
Die happy.
As Dean Martin used to sing – Ain't that a kick in the head.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iTt5lfVkWJw

It is actually quite strong, so do be careful and just have a little one. One being the operative word here.
A minor gripe, however: why is it so damned difficult to open bottles? Don't the makers want us to drink the stuff – merely admire it?
I had to take a sharp knife to the top of my de Kuypers Creme de Cacao liqueur to ease it off, and I was forced to employ a pair of pliers to allow me entry to the Stolichnaya vodka. Heavens, I almost gave up. Note the "almost".


Back to Parnassus: I have a chum who lives in Montparnasse in Paris. Chantal, a true internationalist, with links to Brussels, London, the States, India, China and currently France, is a photographer in Paris with a thrilling portfolio of portraits and other artistic works to her name. Do catch up with Chantal at her website...

crcphotoworks.com

She's also a bit of a playwright and that's where her link to cocktails comes in. Venus on Vacation, her second play, which she also translated into French as Vénus en Vacances was later staged in a Mandarin version in Shanghai where Chantal was billed as a "French romantic author". The star of the show, the goddess of love herself, delivers a resounding rap at the end of the play. Here's a taste....

The  barman mixes you a daiquiri.

While perched on your stool you begin to feel queasy.

Three parts lust, two parts incertitude,

Longing’s shaken, loins are stirred.

Guzzled down in one the potion’s working, 

Indomitable in faith in what Cupid’s recommending.

Honey-tipped quiver’s gone’n done its job.

Add the rhum and the lime juice says your heart’ll start to throb.

Que serà serà you’re headed for devotion.

The potion’s the lotion, the heady libido’s in motion.  
Venus Rap  © Chantal Rosas Cobian

Three parts lust, one part incertitude... oooh vicar!

Hungarian rhapsodising...

Wonderful people, the Hungarians. Some of them just ooze culture. Music, especially. Two delightful young men of my acquaintance are the grandsons of the renowned composer Gyorgy Ranki, whose centenary was celebrated a couple of years ago at the Budapest Opera. The Hungarian national drink is palinka (emphasis on the first vowel), a spirit-based eyebrow lifter made with fruit. The one I like best – I haven't tried them all, admittedly – is the palinka vilmos, a pear-tinged elixir, named for the William pear. The Hungarians, given their often cruel history – and, indeed, the present political situation there isn't wonderful – occasionally indulge in getting a bit Brahms and Liszt, only the latter being a Hungarian, of course. In their honour – and to suck up to my friends – I thought I might invent a cocktail that would befit their status.
For the time being I'll call it Just William. Here's what you do...

Ingredients:
3 fl oz Vilmos Palinka
1 fl oz vodka
1 fl oz Grand Marnier
4 very ripe pears
2 fl oz pear nectar or good pear jiuce
Juice of 1 lime

Method:
Peel and core pears and place in blender
Add pear nectar then liquidise
Sieve into large jug
Add the other ingredients
Pour as much as will allow into cocktail shaker containing 4 lumps of ice
Shake well & serve in glasses with a slice of lime on the rim.
Keep the remainder in the fridge for a top-up.
Should serve six.

egészségére!

Another Hungarian musical genius was Georges (formerly Gyorgy) Cziffra. He had a hard life but what a piano player! Here he is interpreting one of old Ferenc's most famous pieces...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnChH3cFPnY&feature=related

Cocktail anyone? Everybody can join in!

A couple of things happened this week which made me think that you don't need to be an aficionado (or poseur, as some would have it) to enjoy the odd cocktail. There are, in fact, plenty of odd cocktails around and drunk by very odd people. A good chum reminded me of the infamous 'wine spo-dee-o-dee' sampled in Kerouac's On the Road. It went something like this ...

Grab a glass, any sort of glass – chipped would be sufficient
Chuck in a slug of red biddy
Add a measure of rotgut whiskey (note the 'e' here)
Top it with another slug of red biddy.

The plan is that the wine will wrap itself around the rotgut whiskey and mask the flavour.
Sounds rather horrible but I imagine it has the desired effect.
Hank Williams – at least I think it was he – wrote a song about it. Here are the lyrics...

Well down in New Orleans where everything's fine
All them cats is sippin' that wine
Drinkin' that mess is sure delight
Soon to be fightin' and fussin' all night

Drinkin' wine spodee-o, drinkin' wine
wine spodee-o, drinkin' wine
wine spodee-o, drinkin' wine
Pass that bottle to me

Wine, wine, wine
(Blackberry)
Wine, wine, wine
(Raspberry)
Wine, wine, wine
(Huckleberry)
Wine, wine, wine
(Wild Cherry)
Wine, wine, wine
Pass that bottle to me

Drinkin' that mess is sure delight
Soon to be fightin' and fussin' all night
Knockin' out windows, kickin' down doors
Drinkin' a half-gallon and askin' for more

Drinkin' wine spodee-o, drinkin' wine
(drinkin' wine)
wine spodee-o, drinkin' wine
(drinkin' wine)
wine spodee-o, drinkin' wine
Pass that bottle to me

And if you follow this link you can listen to Jerry Lee sing it...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNbOI39fCM0

Knockin' out windows, kickin' down doors – ah, memories. A few years back, you could go to court in Scotland for such an offence and your brief would plead that "strong drink had been taken and my client was not in complete control of his faculties, you honour". If your luck was in, the sheriff would be a fellow sot and admonish you, with the rider to "be of good behaviour for three months".

I was reminded, too, of another less than salubrious cocktail. Years ago in Ma Cameron's bar in Aberdeen, I was having a swift half of Guinness when an old, rough-looking guy crept in and asked for a large port and brandy, the drink of choice among some, apparently – at 11am. I was appraised today also of another chap, one of the old newspaper fraternity,  who often gulped that very pick-me up at the 'tea break'. In fact, on one occasion, this same chap enjoyed such a lengthy tea break that he had to rush back up to his desk at 12.30 as he was on the rota for early lunch. Ah, the old days...
One fortunate thing for those who lived to tell the tale ... I know how they'll be spending their winter heating allowance this year. You have to stay warm. You must!