Charles H. Baker Jr. (December 25, 1895 - November 11, 1987) was a true bon vivant who spent most of his adult life traveling the globe, collecting food and drink recipes, the most famous of which being his chronicles on cocktails. Many of those recipes found in this book are seeing new light today at some of the best bars in the world.
If the book only contained recipes, it'd still be an important work in the field of bar manuals. What sets it apart is his prose, at once exotic, irreverent, funny and deadly serious about accuracy. Baker's wonderfully evocative introductions to his drinks alone make it impossible for me not to reach for my cocktail shaker.
Here is his introduction to a drink now finding it's way onto classic cocktail bar menus:
REMEMBER the MAINE, a Hazy Memory of a Night in Havana during the Unpleasantness of 1933, when Each Swallow Was Punctuated with Bombs Going off on the Prado, or the Sound of 3" Shells Being Fired at the Hotel NACIONAL, then Haven for Certain Anti-Revolutionary Officers.
There is an ingredient listed on the cocktail menu at Union which receives more quizzical looks, more gasps of surprise when sampled and generates more chatter than anything else we do in the bar. The complexities of it's aroma and flavors are hard to pin down, though everyone tries. This witches brew of cocktail goodness is popping up in scratch cocktail bars all over the nation, and in the well-stocked homes of cocktail aficionados all over the globe.
I'm talking about falernum, the nectar of the tiki gods.
What falernum used to be and what it has become are totally different. Since the beginning of the tiki boom in the 1930's, falernum has been used as a sweetener used primarily in tropical and Caribbean cocktails. Produced commercially rather sporadically in Bermuda, Barbados and the U.S., it had been, until recently, hard to get consistently. Keeping in line with the notion that you crave the most what you can't get, frustrated bartenders and cocktail historians began tinkering with recipes to produce their own.
In August of last year, I became the luckiest guy in the world when Christine Nylin accepted my proposal for marriage. Being the dork I am, I set out to make up a cocktail symbolizing the event. I named it The Union, which not only highlights the joining of two into one, but also happens to be the name of the restaurant where I tend bar.
That cocktail has gotten a lot of play recently, the recipe popping up on different web sites, magazines and recipe collections. And now, it has another moment in the sun, for on a spectacularly beautiful August 3rd in Seattle, I became even luckier the luckiest guy in the world when Christine became my wife.
In that spirit, I offer up our recipe to share with you. Check it out after the jump.
There are some people who it is just plain good to know. When you're in college, for example, the guy with a truck is incredibly helpful, and when you go in to business, the understanding accountant and the slightly unethical lawyer are almost necessities.
A few years ago, my friend John became one of these fabulously helpful people. A lifelong resident of southwest Virginia and a trained chemist, John had a skill set that was uniquely wonderful: he knew how to get hold of moonshine, and he knew how to test it for impurities. While the grain liquor (or "likker," if you prefer) that I got from John wasn't all that cheap, it was completely flavorless, and I soon discovered that it made the perfect carrier for various fruits. Within a couple of months, I had a collection of incredibly delicious infused cordials that I would mix with seltzer or tonic water to produce light, moderately alcoholic spritzers with insanely pure tastes.
The boozefest that is Tales Of The Cocktail has been everything I thought it'd be, and I have to admit it's nice, for the moment, to be relatively sober. You see, you can't go very far in New Orleans without being tempted to have a drink. When you throw the world's biggest cocktail and spirit schmoozefest/symposium, it is definitely hard to hold on to your sobriety. Not that any of us want to, of course.
This is just a reminder of something I posted earlier, but should you be interested in following the goings-on at this fantastic event, there is a cocktail blog called, literally enough, Tales Blog. The contributors are bloggers like myself, and we'll be consistently updating the site with differing interpretations. Should this particular site fail to fully scratch the itch, each blogger will also be updating their personal sites, and I strongly encourage you to check them out. They are, in no particular order....
. . . and I know a few of you do during the dog days of summer, here's an alternative to that ubiquitous coconut libation.
The original Painkiller has its genesis in the wonderfully named Soggy Dollar Bar, on the island of Jost Van Dyke in the British Virgin Islands. Since there is no dock for sailors to tie up to, they are forced to swim to shore. Of course, the money gets wet so the proprietors had the novel idea of stringing up a clothesline to air-dry the money. So there you have it, the Soggy Dollar Bar. The owner, a British expat named Daphne Henderson, became locally famous for a cocktail she dubbed The Painkiller. Though it's recipe was kept secret, the rum she used has it's own interesting back-story.
I've got a bias against infusions. I admit it, and I feel so much better for having gotten that off my chest. Why the bias? I'm not sure. Maybe it has something to do with altering the integrity of a spirit. Maybe because everyone with a mason jar has got some science experiment going on behind the bar. Maybe I'd just rather taste the fresh flavors of the fruit/herb/vegetable rather than the vodka-soaked version.
Oh, I know. Most of them don't work. Up until about a month ago, I would have said none of them work. Then, I got to taste Tequila Por Mi Amante.
I have to thank and give credit to Paul Clarke for this one. Paul has introduced me to quite a few cocktails and cocktail ingredients, and I'm a better bartender for having read his site. He is, in my opinion, the best blogger on cocktails on the whole internet and one of the best writers on this topic in the world. Bookmark his site. Go ahead, I'll wait. . . .
Do you have a personal blog? Yes, I do. It's Movingatthespeedoflife.blogspot.com. Longest URL ever! I've been meaning to change it for a long time. I get carpal tunnel symptoms every time I type that thing in. What is your day job, or rather, what do you do when you're not drink blogging? I bartend at Union restaurant in Seattle. Ethan Stowell, the chef and owner, has recently been nominated for a James Beard award (Best NW Chef) and was named among the ten best new chefs of 2008 by Food and Wine magazine. It's an exciting time to be at the restaurant, that's for sure. He gives me freedom behind the bar, so I'm doing my best to offer cocktails that can stand up to all the hard work the kitchen guys are doing. So many restaurants/bartenders just mail it in when it comes to cocktail programs. I want Union to be different. How long have you been blogging with Slashfood and what is your favorite post? Been here since February, I think. Prior to that I blogged for AOL Drinks. My favorite post is the recent Mint Julep post, mostly because of all the beautiful quotes I pulled and that video link brings a tear to this old bartender's eye.
Do you have any non-food-related, non-blogging hobbies? Hobbies? Who has time for hobbies? Does reading count? Does going out on the town?
I know the Kentucky Derby was last month, and by some measures the venerable Mint Julep only crosses our radar then and then only. But when the day is hot and the thirst is mighty, I'd strongly suggest banging out a Julep. In continuing with the mint in cocktails theme, I'd like to cobble together a love letter of sorts to perhaps America's most iconic cocktail. . . an ode to the Mint Julep, in quotes and in a video link:
"They say that you may always know the grave of a Virginian as, from the quantity of julep he has drunk, mint invariably springs up where he has been buried." Frederick Marryat, 1839
"....that the mounds of ices, and the bowls of mint-julep and sherry cobbler they make in these latitudes, are refreshments never to be thought of afterwards, in summer, by those who would preserve contented minds." Charles Dickens, while traveling in America, 1842
"If the mark of a great cocktail is the number of unbreakable rules it generates, then the mint julep may be America's preeminent classic, edging out the martini in a photo finish. William Grimes, 'Straight Up Or On The Rocks'
Nothing signifies late spring/early summer better for me than to see a bartender muddling mint for a cocktail. The light, clean flavors of mint bring a certain delicacy and refreshing quality to a drink, whether it be in the iconic Mint Julep, the omnipresent Mojito or any number of classic or new creations. On a hot summer day, nothing beats a cocktail elevated with the crisp flavor of mint.
Given its fragility, mint is an easy herb to abuse. I've been to a number of bars and home parties where the bartender or host absolutely punish the mint, leaving a bitter, limp cocktail that loses all its intended charm. Truth be told, a great Julep or Mojito is harder than you'd think. Personally, I struggled for a long time with mint cocktails, simply because, like most people, I didn't understand what I was dealing with.
Despite evidence to the contrary, Cinco de Mayo is not Spanish for 'another excuse to get totally faced.' What Cinco de Mayo has come to signify in this country, however, is exactly that. Just like we knock back Guinness on St. Patrick's Day and gorge ourselves on beer and brats during Oktoberfest, Cinco de Mayo has become our way of showing appreciation for our Mexican neighbors in the best way we know how; by getting slobber-faced.
This upcoming May 5, we'll be raising glasses of tequila. So let's take a minute and find out exactly what is in that glass and clear up some misconceptions.
Love cocktails? Spirits? Want to know how to make your own bitters, infused syrups or tinctures? Interested in bartending techniques or the history of the craft? Or, heck, do you like to drink? Brothers and sisters, have I got an event for you. . .
Tales Of The Cocktail is the only event of its kind. From July 16-20th bartenders, spirit representatives, notable authors, mixologists and enthusiastic barflies will gather in New Orleans to celebrate, attend seminars and drink a whole bunch of hooch. Tickets are available on the TOTC site. Hope to see you there.
Additionally, I've been invited to be a participating writer for the all-star blog site that they are putting together for the event, Talesblog.com. In the coming months, we will be previewing the events, seminars and notable participants of this wonderful event. I guarantee you won't find a giddier bunch.
No bar can be complete without them (heck, for my money, no bartender can be complete without them). Every bar has at least one bottle stashed somewhere, and more and more, the hallmark of great bars and bartenders proudly displays at least a half-dozen, not including ones they've made themselves. Each variety lends a complexity impossible to find anywhere else and almost always elevate each cocktail into something special.
So what, exactly, are bitters, and why are they so important? Well, first, there are two kinds, potable and nonpotable. Potable bitters generally double as digestifs, something you drink after dinner. Fernet-Branca and Campari are two famous examples of potable bitters. The ones we're talking about here are nonpotable (which means they're not meant to be consumed on their own). Bitters are, in general, made from a witches-brew combination of herbs and citrus blended with alcohol, and were intended as remedies for all sorts of ailments, particularly those involving the stomach. Why are they important? A friend of mine and master bartender, Jamie Boudreau, likens bitters to how a chef utilizes salt, as essential an ingredient as there is in any kitchen. Each type of bitters available lends it's own unique characteristics to a cocktail.
For the sake of introduction of these products, we're going to limit the flavor wheel to the three most common.
For the first time in years, I won't be bartending this St. Paddy's Day. For the first time in years, I'll be on the other side, elbowing my way to the bar and signaling to a hapless, overworked barkeep that I, Keith Waldbauer, believe it's time for me to get my drink on.
And after all this time, boy am I ever thirsty.
So, what am I drinking? There will be Guinness, of that you can be sure. And, sure, I'll down a Tullamore Dew, two if I start feeling it. If the night gets away from me, I may even be talked into that Irish Car Bomb my friends are pushing toward me. First thing, though, let me tell you, I'll be tipping back a Tipperary.
Is it a typical Irish cocktail? No, not really. There's the Irish whiskey in it, of course, and then there is the name, which comes from both a town and a county in Ireland. It has a green tinge to it as well, courtesy of Chartreuse, a French liquer made by Carthusian monks since the 1700's.
So why a Tipperary on St. Paddy's Day, then, if the associations are rather slight? Because, my dear friend, while everyone else if fattening up on too much beer and slobbering over too many shots, you'll be at the end of the bar with a classic, 90 year old cocktail in your hands, taking your time with a well-balanced beverage. And with juuust enough Irish elements to keep you in the spirit of the moment. Here's my version of the Tipperary:
Tipperary
2 oz Irish whiskey (I generally use Bushmills) 3/4 oz sweet vermouth 1/4 oz green Chartreuse
Stir well, strain into a chilled cocktail glass. No garnish required here.
We have a 29th of February this year, making this a Leap Year ... making Friday a Leap Day. So what does that mean?
Well, we have an extra day to put off preparing our taxes (yes!), and an extra day standing between us and summer (boo!). Just like the Olympics and Presidential elections (yeah, we get yet another day of political sniping, too), Leap Years come every four years. It also means it's time to dust off an old classic cocktail called, ingeniously enough, the Leap Year Cocktail.
This hibernating little fellow comes courtesy of the Savoy Cocktail Book, first authored by Harry Craddock and remains, 78 years after publication, a benchmark for tradition-minded bartenders and scholars alike. There are over 750 recipes in the book, a few of which have notations augmenting their worth. I'm going to lift the entire quote regarding the Leap Year.
This cocktail was created by Harry Craddock for the Leap Year celebrations at the Savoy Hotel, London, on February 29, 1928. It is said to have been responsible for more proposals than any other cocktail ever mixed.
Well alrighty then! That's quite a feat considering the little bugger pokes its head out of the ground every Presidential cycle, but okay, I won't quibble with anything reaching its 80th birthday. The recipe is after the jump, taken from a more modern perspective from Gary Regan's excellent Joy of Mixology.
A jar of honey can become a sticky mess. Next time you're adding honey to another dish or a mug of tea, use a honey dipper to prevent a thick gooey layer from spreading.
Long before there was a Kevin Bauch circumnavigating the globe to cure his thirst, there was the inimitable Charles H. Baker, author of my current favorite cocktail book The Gentleman's Companion - Being an Exotic Drinking Book or Around the World with Jigger, Beaker and Flask.
There is an ingredient listed on the cocktail menu at Union which receives more quizzical looks, more gasps of surprise when sampled and generates more chatter than anything else we do in the bar. The complexities of it's aroma and flavors are hard to pin down, though everyone tries. This witches brew of cocktail goodness is popping up in scratch cocktail bars all over the nation, and in the well-stocked homes of cocktail aficionados all over the globe.
In August of last year, I became the luckiest guy in the world when Christine Nylin accepted my proposal for marriage. Being the dork I am, I set out to make up a cocktail symbolizing the event. I named it The Union, which not only highlights the joining of two into one, but also happens to be the name of the restaurant where I tend bar..jpg)
There are some people who it is just plain good to know. When you're in college, for example, the guy with a truck is incredibly helpful, and when you go in to business, the understanding accountant and the slightly unethical lawyer are almost necessities. 
The boozefest that is Tales Of The Cocktail has been everything I thought it'd be, and I have to admit it's nice, for the moment, to be relatively sober. You see, you can't go very far in New Orleans without being tempted to have a drink. When you throw the world's biggest cocktail and spirit schmoozefest/symposium, it is definitely hard to hold on to your sobriety. Not that any of us want to, of course.
. . . and I know a few of you do during the dog days of summer, here's an alternative to that ubiquitous coconut libation.
Do you have a personal blog? Yes, I do. It's 
Nothing signifies late spring/early summer better for me than to see a bartender muddling mint for a cocktail. The light, clean flavors of mint bring a certain delicacy and refreshing quality to a drink, whether it be in the iconic Mint Julep, the omnipresent Mojito or any number of classic or new creations. On a hot summer day, nothing beats a cocktail elevated with the crisp flavor of mint.
Despite evidence to the contrary, Cinco de Mayo is not Spanish for 'another excuse to get totally faced.' What Cinco de Mayo has come to signify in this country, however, is exactly that. Just like we knock back Guinness on St. Patrick's Day and gorge ourselves on beer and brats during Oktoberfest, Cinco de Mayo has become our way of showing appreciation for our Mexican neighbors in the best way we know how; by getting slobber-faced.
Love cocktails? Spirits? Want to know how to make your own bitters, infused syrups or tinctures? Interested in bartending techniques or the history of the craft? Or, heck, do you like to drink? Brothers and sisters, have I got an event for you. . .
bar has at least one bottle stashed somewhere, and more and more, the hallmark of great bars and bartenders proudly displays at least a half-dozen, not including ones they've made themselves. Each variety lends a complexity impossible to find anywhere else and almost always elevate each cocktail into something special.
For the first time in years, I won't be bartending this St. Paddy's Day. For the first time in years, I'll be on the other side, elbowing my way to the bar and signaling to a hapless, overworked barkeep that I, Keith Waldbauer, believe it's time for me to get my drink on.
We have a 29th of February this year, making this a Leap Year ... making Friday a Leap Day. So what does that mean? 
Chocolate-stuffed bananas on the grill
Tyler Florence welcomes new daughter
Beware kids' menus!
