The Friday Tipple: The Good Friday

The Good Friday

TGIF, Boozers. We’ve said it before, and we’ll say it again, an emphatic TGIF. For many people across the globe, this week also represents the observation of Passover and Easter, a time for reflection upon and appreciation of all that is both bitter and sweet.

We always find Fridays, in general, to be bittersweet, as we struggle to stay focused on the work necessary to pay the bills while already lamenting the scant few hours ahead that allow us to escape the daily grind. We find ourselves easily distracted, rushing headlong into the weekend and the joys of sleeping in because we sat up in the wee hours watching infomercials while munching on microwave pizza in bed.

For this particular Friday, it feels right to come home to a special cocktail that we’re calling, appropriately enough, The Good Friday. By turns bitter, sweet, celebratory, and slightly numbing, it could set the tone for your two days of respite – or simply give you a few moments of blissful ignorance.

The Good Friday

Most people think of Campari only in connection with club soda and a wedge of lime, but Campari adds a silky bittersweet note to many cocktails and is particularly nice when paired with flavors that are sweet, fruity, and botanical.

1 ounce silver tequila (we like Avion, which is rather herbaceous and gin-like with a bite)

1 ounce Campari

1/2 large fresh orange

chilled Prosecco or sparkling wine

Place tequila and Campari in a cocktail shaker and squeeze the orange into it thoroughly, including some pulp. Add an ice cube, stir briskly, and strain into a chilled coupe. Top with an ounce or so of Prosecco and enjoy.

 

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The Friday Tipple: Swedish 75

Swedish 75

It’s a snow day, Boozers. An unexpected snowfall means that our frosty breath hangs in the air as we tramp through mounds of the fluffy stuff, imagining that we are traversing through the Scandinavian countryside. If we were truly of Nordic blood, we’d laugh at this paltry little showing of Mother Nature, but  instead we are as excited as schoolchildren. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

During the recent holiday celebrations, we were lucky enough to be gifted with a tantalizing pine-based gin from St. George Spirits which perfectly suits a wintry day. Prior to that, we were already fascinated by pine syrup, which you can purchase online or simply make yourself (this is how we prefer to recycle a Christmas tree); additionally, you can infuse any gin (like Catoctin Creek Organic Watershed Gin, our local favorite) with clean pine needles to get the same fresh woodsy flavor.

And so today we bring you the Swedish 75, a Scandinavian twist on the French 75 that truly should be imbibed while sitting in a hot tub on a frosty winter evening. Gott Nytt År!

Swedish 75

For this happy little cocktail, we like to use a splash of lingonberry juice for a truly Swedish flair, but if you can’t find lingonberry juice, then you can substitute cranberry juice — just be sure to use a light hand with it, because cranberries have a somewhat stronger flavor than lingonberries.

1 ounce gin, preferably pine-infused*

1 ounce lingonberry juice

a few drops of orange bitters

2 ounces sparkling wine, champagne, or Prosecco

fresh orange peel

Combine first three ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice and stir briskly. Strain into a champagne coupe (you can also serve in a tall glass over crushed ice) and top with the sparkling wine. Twist orange peel over the glass to release the oils and drop into the drink. Serve immediately.

* If you don’t have a pine-infused gin, do not fret. You can also create a quick pine-infused simple syrup and add a teaspoon of it to your cocktail to create a similar effect.

 

The Friday Tipple: Burns-erac!

Burnserac

We’ve said it before, Boozers, and we’ll say it again: cocktails create community. Derek Brown, the hip mixologist of the Columbia Room in DC, waxes quite poetic about it, actually, and observes an old tradition when whipping up that classic cocktail, the Sazerac, requiring audience participation: a smidge of absinthe is poured into a chilled glass and the glass is thrown gently into the air, and, as the absinthe coats the inside of the glass during its flight, the assembled barflies all shout “Sazerac!”  just before the bartender snatches the glass from mid-air. Now that’s what we call community.

We were reminded of this again while greedily lapping up reruns of Ken Burns‘ documentary “Prohibition”. Clearly, alcohol can create community in myriad ways — everything from temperance unions to drinking clubs to inebriate asylums — and leave it to the ever-youthful Burns (we suspect he still gets carded) to make it all completely enthralling.

So, we salute Ken Burns this week with the Burns-erac: a whisper of whiskey (apparently an old favorite), chilled Prosecco (he told Liquor.com that it’s his current drink of choice), and a colorful nip of Peychaud’s Gomme Syrup (a simple syrup we made with Peychaud’s Bitters — the addition of gum arabic gives a lovely mouthfeel that you get right in the last sip). Gather together a group of friends while enjoying this cocktail salute, and don’t forget to shout out: “Burns-erac!”

Burns-erac

Chilled Prosecco

Whiskey (we’re particularly enjoy Catoctin Creek’s Roundstone Rye)

Peychaud’s Gomme Syrup (recipe below)

Lemon twist

Fill a champagne flute with ice and water and allow to chill for a few minutes. Empty the flute and pour in a small splash of whiskey, then swirl it around quickly to coat the inside of the glass (you can shout “Burns-erac” here if you like). Pour a 1/2 teaspoon of the Peychaud’s Gomme Syrup (recipe and an alternative below) in the bottom of the glass, then carefully fill the rest of the glass with Prosecco. Garnish with a lemon twist. Burnserac!

Peychaud’s Gomme Syrup: Heat 1/2 cup sugar and 1/2 cup water to boiling in a small saucepan, stirring constantly. Reduce heat to low and continue stirring occasionally for 15 minutes. Mix one tablespoon gum arabic with one tablespoon hot water and stir until dissolved into a sticky paste; add to sugar-water mixture and stir until dissolved. Add 2 tablespoons Peychaud’s Aromatic Cocktail Bitters and stir well. Allow to simmer over very low heat for another 15 minutes, still stirring occasionally. Cool completely before using.

No time to make this luscious syrup? Okay, then just place a teaspoon of simple syrup and several drops of Peychaud’s in the bottom of the champagne flute and mix together. Or use a sugar cube and soak it in the Peychaud’s, then loosen it with a cocktail spoon. It won’t have the same gorgeous mouthfeel as the Peychaud’s Gomme Syrup, but it will provide the right flavor.

The Friday Tipple: Clevedale Sunset

Clevedale Sunset

We’ve headed back south, Boozers. Along the miles between Vacationland and the Mason-Dixon Line, the air became heavier, the flower petals exploded in perfume, and we found ourselves yearning for a shady portico. We discovered all this, and more, at Clevedale Historic Inn in Spartanburg, South Carolina, where we were inspired by the stately architecture and formal gardens, along with a great thirst.

When in the South, one feels a necessity to drink whiskey and citrus, but the elegant setting of the Clevedale Inn makes the addition of something sparkling almost another necessity. And so we present you with the Clevedale Sunset, a bubbly sipper touched with a certain Southern languor, perfect for imbibing on the porch as the horizontal shadows lengthen across the lawn and the frogs begin to sing their bedtime lullabies. Lean back, close your eyes, and listen to the whisper of a Carolina breeze.

Clevedale Sunset

We always enjoy the local hooch wherever we go, and several young distilleries are popping up across South Carolina. Dark Corner Distillery of Greenville makes a Carolina bourbon whiskey that we knew would be just right as the base for this cocktail: slightly smoky with just the faintest note of a Carolina pine forest.

6 ounces bourbon

1 fresh orange

chilled Prosecco or sparkling wine

orange bitters (for this we used Fee Brothers West Indian Orange Bitters)

Place the bourbon in a clean glass jar. Cut several long twists of orange peel from the fresh orange and put them in the jar with the bourbon, then cut the orange in half and put one half into the jar as well. Cover and chill thoroughly (you can place in the freezer for one hour or in the refrigerator for up to four hours). Remove orange half and reserve orange twists.

To assemble the drink, pour one ounce of the chilled bourbon into a chilled wine glass and top with four ounces of chilled Prosecco. Yes, there’s a lot of chilling here, but you will be glad of it on a sticky Southern summer evening. Add two dashes of orange bitters and one of the reserved orange twists. Serve immediately.

The Friday Tipple: Mr. Collins

Mr. Collins

We adore a pompous fool, Boozers. In fact, if we are honest, we have strolled down that perilous path once or twice, only to have our balloon of self-admiration popped unceremoniously by a worthy opponent. It’s why we love Jane Austen, and also why we enjoy a tasty little concoction — once known as the official drink of summer — called a Tom Collins.

In the far-off years of our youth, we recall our first foray into a nightclub, armed with a fake i.d. and a few crumpled dollar bills stuffed into our spandex tights. As the hairy-chested bartender cocked a cynical eye at our underage attempt at sophisticated nonchalance, we stuttered out a request for a Tom Collins — clearly marking us as urbane world travelers.

Alas, what we didn’t realize was that we had immediately marked ourselves as more akin to the inimitable Mr. Collins, the silly social-climbing vicar in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice; Elizabeth Bennett had him pegged in five seconds flat, and would certainly never have accepted a watery Tom Collins made with a slug of cheap gin and a splash of sour mix, topped off with club soda and a maraschino cherry stabbed with a plastic sword. Just like Elizabeth, we now know we don’t have to settle for second-best.

So we’ve imagined Mr. Collins as he should be, if transformed into a refreshing cocktail: bright, fresh, lightly herbal, and blessed with a sparkling wit. Watch out, Mr. Darcy — there may be competition yet.

Mr. Collins

We’ve made a summery lemonade base for our Mr. Collins, sweetened with a pineapple sage simple syrup. If you don’t have this charming herb growing in your garden or on your windowsill, you can make a simple syrup with mint (especially a pineapple or orange mint), which will impart that sunny herbaceous quality.

4 or 5 lemons, freshly juiced

Pineapple sage simple syrup (see below for instructions)

Chilled club soda

2 ounces good quality gin (like Catoctin Creek’s Organic Watershed Gin)

Chilled Prosecco or sparkling wine

Orange wedge and sprig of sage or mint for garnish

Make the fizzy lemonade base by combining the fresh lemon juice, about 2 tablespoons of the simple syrup, and a 1/2 cup of the club soda. Stir vigorously and add more simple syrup if necessary. Fill a Collins (tall) glass with ice and pour in the gin and up to a 1/2 cup of lemonade. Top with an ounce or so of chilled Prosecco and garnish with orange and sage.

The simple syrup is a snap: one cup of water, one cup of sugar, and several sage (or mint) leaves cooked over low heat until slightly thickened, about 30 minutes. Remove sage leaves and cool; can be stored in the refrigerator for about 3 weeks.

The Friday Tipple: Sorrento Spring Crush

Sorry to Spring Crush

We’re crushing, Boozers. Daffodils are gaily poking up through the snow and the March winds are carrying the swallows back to their roosts. Spring is in the air and we are ready to welcome it with open arms.

Our thoughts have turned to limoncello in our perennial late winter search for sunshine — when limoncello is done right, it has a bright tartness layered with rich caramel undertones. When it’s done wrong, it tastes like liquid saccharin dusted with powdered lemon. Limoncello aficionados prefer this liqueur only when made with Sorrento lemons, but many good limoncellos are made with more common varieties. It’s quite easy to make at home and many small distilleries are popping up around the country, so check your local area. Our Sorrento Spring Crush is an herbaceous love letter to spring: how do we love thee, let us count the ways…

Sorrento Spring Crush

We love the flavor combination of anise and lemon, especially in the springtime, when we turn our faces up to capture the fleeting warmth of weak sunshine. Hyssop is an herb that can often be found growing wild in spring but also can be found dried for tea consumption. It has a light licorice flavor and can be used as the base for a simple syrup, or reduced into a concentrate as we have done here to add a warm herbal undertone.

3 ounces chilled prosecco

1.5 ounces chilled limoncello (we are fortunate to have gorgeous Don Ciccio & Figli Limoncello in our local area — be jealous)

1 tablespoon reduced hyssop tea (brew a cup and simmer over a low flame until reduced by half, then cool completely)

lemon wedge

fresh fennel fronds

Put lemon wedge and fennel fronds in the base of a large wine glass and muddle thoroughly. Add a few ice cubes, hyssop tea, limoncello, and prosecco, and stir vigorously. Garnish with additional fennel and serve immediately.

The Friday Tipple: Mr. Collins

We adore a pompous fool, Boozers. In fact, if we are honest, we have strolled down that perilous path once or twice, only to have our balloon of self-admiration popped unceremoniously by a worthy opponent. It’s why we love Jane Austen, and also why we enjoy a tasty little concoction — once known as the official drink of summer — called a Tom Collins.

In the far-off years of our youth, we recall our first foray into a nightclub, armed with a fake i.d. and a few crumpled dollar bills stuffed into our spandex tights. As the hairy-chested bartender cocked a cynical eye at our underage attempt at sophisticated nonchalance, we stuttered out a request for a Tom Collins — clearly marking us as urbane world travelers.

Alas, what we didn’t realize was that we had immediately marked ourselves as more akin to the inimitable Mr. Collins, the silly social-climbing vicar in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice; Elizabeth Bennett had him pegged in five seconds flat, and would certainly never have accepted a watery Tom Collins made with a slug of cheap gin and a splash of sour mix, topped off with club soda and a maraschino cherry stabbed with a plastic sword. Just like Elizabeth, we now know we don’t have to settle for second-best.

So we’ve imagined Mr. Collins as he should be, if transformed into a refreshing cocktail: bright, fresh, lightly herbal, and blessed with a sparkling wit. Watch out, Mr. Darcy — there may be competition yet.

Mr. Collins

We’ve made a summery lemonade base for our Mr. Collins, sweetened with a pineapple sage simple syrup. If you don’t have this charming herb growing in your garden or on your windowsill, you can make a simple syrup with mint (especially a pineapple or orange mint), which will impart that sunny herbaceous quality.

4 or 5 lemons, freshly juiced

Pineapple sage simple syrup (see below for instructions)

Chilled club soda

2 ounces good quality gin (like Catoctin Creek’s Organic Watershed Gin)

Chilled Prosecco or sparkling wine

Orange wedge and sprig of sage or mint for garnish

Make the fizzy lemonade base by combining the fresh lemon juice, about 2 tablespoons of the simple syrup, and a 1/2 cup of the club soda. Stir vigorously and add more simple syrup if necessary. Fill a Collins (tall) glass with ice and pour in the gin and up to a 1/2 cup of lemonade. Top with an ounce or so of chilled Prosecco and garnish with orange and sage.

The simple syrup is a snap: one cup of water, one cup of sugar, and several sage (or mint) leaves cooked over low heat until slightly thickened, about 30 minutes. Remove sage leaves and cool; can be stored in the refrigerator for about 3 weeks.

The Friday Tipple: Burns-erac!

We’ve said it before, Boozers, and we’ll say it again: cocktails create community. Derek Brown, the hip mixologist of the Columbia Room in DC, waxes quite poetic about it, actually, and observes an old tradition when whipping up that classic cocktail, the Sazerac, requiring audience participation: a smidge of absinthe is poured into a chilled glass and the glass is thrown gently into the air, and, as the absinthe coats the inside of the glass during its flight, the assembled barflies all shout “Sazerac!”  just before the bartender snatches the glass from mid-air. Now that’s what we call community.

We were reminded of this again while greedily lapping up the new Ken Burns‘ documentary “Prohibition”. Clearly, alcohol can create community in myriad ways — everything from temperance unions to drinking clubs to inebriate asylums — and leave it to the ever-youthful Burns (we suspect he still gets carded) to make it all completely enthralling.

So, we salute Ken Burns this week with the Burns-erac: a whisper of whiskey (apparently an old favorite), chilled Prosecco (he told Liquor.com that it’s his current drink of choice), and a colorful nip of Peychaud’s Gomme Syrup (a simple syrup we made with Peychaud’s Bitters — the addition of gum arabic gives a lovely mouthfeel that you get right in the last sip). Gather together a group of friends while enjoying this cocktail salute, and don’t forget to shout out: “Burns-erac!”

Burns-erac

Chilled Prosecco

Whiskey (we’re still obsessed with Catoctin Creek’s Roundstone Rye)

Peychaud’s Gomme Syrup (recipe below)

Lemon twist

Fill a champagne flute with ice and water and allow to chill for a few minutes. Empty the flute and pour in a small splash of whiskey, then swirl it around quickly to coat the inside of the glass (you can shout “Burns-erac” here if you like). Pour a 1/2 teaspoon of the Peychaud’s Gomme Syrup (recipe and an alternative below) in the bottom of the glass, then carefully fill the rest of the glass with Prosecco. Garnish with a lemon twist. Burnserac!

Peychaud’s Gomme Syrup: Heat 1/2 cup sugar and 1/2 cup water to boiling in a small saucepan, stirring constantly. Reduce heat to low and continue stirring occasionally for 15 minutes. Mix one tablespoon gum arabic with one tablespoon hot water and stir until dissolved into a sticky paste; add to sugar-water mixture and stir until dissolved. Add 2 tablespoons Peychaud’s Aromatic Cocktail Bitters and stir well. Allow to simmer over very low heat for another 15 minutes, still stirring occasionally. Cool completely before using.

No time to make this luscious syrup? Okay, then just place a teaspoon of simple syrup and several drops of Peychaud’s in the bottom of the champagne flute and mix together. Or use a sugar cube and soak it in the Peychaud’s, then loosen it with a cocktail spoon. It won’t have the same gorgeous mouthfeel as the Peychaud’s Gomme Syrup, but it will provide the right flavor!