Friday Happy Hour: Cocktails

We're going to go to school this week for Happy Hour. Oh, and we're going to have some cocktails, too. But, what is a cocktail? The handsome illustration above, from Oscar Haimo's Cocktail and Wine Digest, circa 1945, has a trio of libations being served in stemmed glasses that are synonymous with cocktails (albeit that the bowls are more "U" shaped than "V" shaped, as we have come to expect in contemporary times). Oscar Haimo further explains more of his cocktail philosophy in the following page in his book:

Well, you don't have to remark on what a convivial party this scene depicts (complete with accordion player!) to convey what a buoyant atmosphere any cocktail hour gives. But, he notes that his cocktail recipes are each 3 ounces, and then curiously states that "for all other drinks . . ." What does he mean by "all other drinks"? Nowadays, "cocktails" means any kind of mixed drink; or, even, any alcoholic drink at all. Time was, however, when "cocktails" were a very specific kind of drink. Take, for example, this index from our Repeal-era Mohawk Liquor recipe booklet:

The first -- and biggest -- category is the cocktails. But, they have drinks like "collins" and "coolers" and "fizzes" and "flips" and "frappes" and "juleps" and ... well, you get the idea. It was customary to think of drinks as one of several kinds, and by ordering a cocktail, you were ordering a specific kind of drink, with a pretty regular combination of ingredients. Originally, a "cocktail" was a drink involving a spirit and bitters -- and perhaps some sugar and/or a liqueur. A cocktail glass (or what we sometimes call a Martini glass) was the customary glass used for a cocktail (although they could be served on the rocks in a "rocks" or "old fashioned" glass). In other weeks, we're going to cover some of these other drinks they refer to. While we're talking about all these other old-style drinks, consider this index from another of our Repeal-era recipe booklets:

This one has similar, and even additional, categories of drinks. Here's how the Drink Master describes a cocktail:

In reviewing the "cocktails" in the indexes we showed you, many of these drinks stray from the narrow concept of spirits and bitters; in fact, several of them do not include bitters as an ingredient. So, what's different about these "cocktails" and all of the other categories of drinks? They don't have any carbonation (no seltzer or soda water); their garnishments are pretty much limited to twists, olives, and cherries (no sprigs of mint or anything elaborate); and virtually all of them can be served in a cocktail glass. Common examples of "cocktails" that have stood the test of time include the Manhattan, the Martini, and the Old Fashioned, as well as some of our Rogers Park Retro favorites such as the Bronx, the Jack Rose, the Pink Lady, and the Orange Blossom. Please consider yourselves invited to order any of these classic drinks in honor of the vintage drink known as the "cocktail" at Happy Hour this weekend. We'll circle back to the cocktail in the future -- after we've discussed some of these other vintage drink categories -- and compare notes on what we've learned.

But, meanwhile, cheers!

Friday Happy Hour: Jack Rose

Today, we're turning to a drink that's a little more obscure, with a main ingredient that's a little obscure, too. And, like our more obscure drinks, there are some variations on how this one is made. But, it's important that we feature the Jack Rose. The base spirit for this drink is an apple brandy. The most common version used is applejack, which is not to be confused in any way with the children's breakfast cereal. Applejack is kind of a rustic American apple brandy that hearkens back to the old frontier days of hard cider, except distilled. It has a fancy French cousin, calvados. Calvados is a high-toned apple brandy, that's smoother than it's rough American cousin. Let's look at some of the recipes. This one is from Oscar Haimo's Cocktail and Wine Digest, circa 1946:

First off, and not to digress, but it's frustrating when the first ingredient is listed as "1/2 lemon." What is that? 1 ounce? 1/2 ounce? 3/4? Depends on how fresh the lemon is? Let's ignore that for a moment. The 4 dashes of grenadine is 4/6 of a teaspoon. Then, obviously, 2 ounces of applejack. With these proportions, maybe we should say about 1/2 ounce of lemon juice, depending on how tart you might want it. here's a recipe from "Famous New Orleans Drinks (and how to mix 'em)":

Again with the catch-as-catch-can measurement of the lemon juice. They call for about twice the amount of grenadine, but less of the applejack (1.5 ounces). Plus some Peychaud bitters, since this coming from New Orleans, after all. The proportions of spirit to citrus to grenadine can be toyed with, to suit your taste. Without taste-testing it first, maybe we'll recommend something like this: 2 oz of applejack, 1/2 oz lemon juice, and a couple of teaspoons of grenadine (because we like it sweet). Try it for yourself and see what you think.

Sometimes these old and more obscure drinks can trigger some interesting stories. We don't have any of our own to share, but we can share one we read in the New York Times not long ago. It so happens that they did a feature on calvados, and the next week someone wrote a letter to the editor about the article. It turns out that her father had served in France during WWII and came home with a taste for calvados. All his life, the Jack Rose was his drink of choice -- but it had to be made with calvados, not applejack. At every family gathering, Dad was mixing and pouring his calvados Jack Roses. Unfortunately for the daughter, it was a stiffer drink than she liked, and she had to find a way to dispose of it in a potted plant or the bathroom sink. What a shame. But, it was part of loving her Dad. The article of about calvados must have brought it all back to her -- enough for her to take the time to write a letter to the editor to share the memory. Now, we share it with you.

Cheers!