Fails of the Cocktail

Here in the Liquor Lab we endeavor to do the best we can when making drinks. If we're making a classic, established cocktail, we attempt to do the necessary research so as to have at least a cursory idea of what it is we're doing. Bar guides are perused, online resources are tapped and fellow booze nerds are consulted.

If we're trying our hand at coming up with an original drink, the process is similar, although a lot more trail-and-error is involved. Still, the goal is the same: To make a drink that someone will enjoy...and hopefully want again.

This has been on my mind lately because the annual hooch-centric extravaganza known as Tales of the Cocktail is less than a month away, and I'm looking forward to marinating in a continuous stream of finely-prepared cocktails assembled by a legion of skilled and talented mixologists who bring their considerable powers to bear. These folks take drink-making very seriously, and it's a wonderful experience to be on the receiving end of their abilities.

But what happens when this isn't the case? What if you don't find yourself in the capable hands of a conscientious bartender? What about that moment that occurs between idea and execution when things go terribly, terribly awry?

I think almost everyone who enjoys a cocktail even semi-regularly has had the misfortune of being served a drink so puzzling, so ill-fashioned, so irredeemably wrong, that it sears itself into memory. Attempts to completely block them out inevitably fail, and their resurrection can potentially be triggered by almost any drinking occasion, even years later. These unfortunate mental spectres lie dormant, almost forgotten, but always somehow spring back to the fore.

My own encounter with a very wrong drink occurred several years ago, and went pretty much like this...

At a wedding reception held in a fairly nice country club-type place, I approached what looked to be a reasonably well-appointed bar. The staff was polite, sharply dressed, and was speedily (though not carelessly) dispensing cocktails. To all appearances , this was a crew who knew what they were doing, and I was optimistic.

I was in the mood for a Martini, and I figured its few ingredients and ease of construction would make it a good choice as far as the staff was concerned...I try not to make anyone's life difficult if I can help it. As I stepped to the bar, one of the bartenders slid over and I was glad to see he had a head of fully gray hair. He was well into his fifties at least, and I thought to myself, "If anyone here knows how to make a Martini, it's this guy."

He gruffly asked what I'd like, and my response was, "Could I get a Martini?"

Now, there are times in one's life when you say something and immediately realize you never should have said what just emerged from your mouth. These are the times when you wish life had a rewind button. This was one of those times. Whatever instinct that signaled me I should never have asked for a Martini from this particular gentleman at this particular event came about 3 seconds late.

His expression immediately turned sour, and with a grunt, he rummaged below the bar and produced a bottle of gin.* Next, he swiftly placed a clear plastic cup that resembled a miniature double-old-fashioned glass on the bar and shoveled three small, dripping ice cubes into it. The final step was to haphazardly slosh an indeterminate amount of gin into the cup. He then pushed the drink my way and briskly spun off without a word to attend to someone else. The entire transaction took approximately 8 seconds.

I won't even attempt to itemize the myriad ways in which this drink was wrong. Like many drinks, the Martini is subject to a degree of personal interpretation, but there are some ground rules nonetheless. (and if you read this blog, I'm confident you know what they are). This drink violated a bunch of them.

Like a dope, I actually took a couple sips. I don't know what I was expecting, but a lukewarm plastic cup of gin did not transmogrify into a bracing, refreshing cocktail just because I wished really hard. Maybe some perverse part of me wanted to see just how bad it actually could be. I found out, and relegated it to the nearest trash can.

Let's just say that bad booze +bad preparation + bad customer relations = lousy drink.

This isn't meant to be an indictment of this particular bartender- Who knows why he made such a poor drink? (misleading tips from dubious online bartending videos may be the culprit. Jeffrey Morgenthaler has been unearthing tons of them lately) . If there's a lesson here, I think it's that a bad drink can be just as memorable as a good one. Maybe more so. However, I've had far more good drinks** than bad ones, so I chalk that up as a win overall. But when the opportunity presents itself, I still like to ask people:

What's the worst drink you've ever had?



* I can't recall the specific brand, but it was not good. Really not good.

** Several of these were made during Mixology Monday, which happens to be today...and I completely forgot about it yet again.

Sample Jamboree and Traveling In Your Own Mind

Blimps over Bangkok

1 oz. Mekhong
1 oz. London dry gin
.5 oz. Aperol
.5 oz. Cynar
.5 oz. simple syrup
1-2 dashes Fee’s mint bitters

Shake all ingredients with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Float a very thin lime wheel on surface of drink.

I don’t travel much. But I do have a healthy wanderlust, and I satisfy it vicariously through TV shows, books, magazine articles, and travelogues on the Web. Cocktails also will do the trick, in their own way.

Sometimes a cocktail will be the catalyst for a journey that takes place entirely within your own mind. Aided by the smell, taste and appearance of a well-crafted drink, your imagination can take you down roads and rivers even though your body remains at rest. You needn’t leave your recliner or barstool- The trick is simply to have the right beverage.

I was recently experimenting with a bottle of Mekhong, and ended up making a drink that kick-started one of these mental journeys. The combination of flavors, aromas and colors had my mind drifting along the currents of a 19th-century adventure epic…a sepia-toned, steampunk saga replete with bold travelers questing for knowledge, experience, and perhaps a little treasure. Peering through goggles at faded maps, explorers clawed their way through dripping jungles and glided above crumbling temples in rickety, patchwork airships.

No doubt they needed the ropes, machetes, compasses, and rifles they packed at the outset. The one-of-a-kind book of ancient symbols purchased at the bazaar might be handy. And that shiny little talisman the old man in the hut gave them certainly couldn’t hurt. Everyone can use a little magic now and then.

Who knows exactly what they encountered? Were they imperiled by creatures only thought to exist in myth? Had their resolve been tested by treading upon forbidden pathways? Did they commune with a lost race of people, receiving a glimpse into unseen realms?

Regardless, I’m sure the travelers used their wits and whatever other resources they commanded to make their way home again. There were likely a few scars and certainly some good stories. Maybe even a strange, ancient object to hang on the wall of the club…a tangible reminder to be pondered while sipping a well-made and well-deserved cocktail.

Have a drink. Take a trip.

Cinco de Moai

According to the ads in the local free weekly paper, I’m supposed to be celebrating Cinco de Mayo somewhere that offers both Tequila and Mexican beer in colossal quantities for very reasonable prices. As appealing as I find stock photos of bikini-clad women with sombreros Photoshopped on them, I decided to ignore them and the ads they populate in favor of other diversions.

Diversion #1 was spending a chunk of Saturday afternoon watching the Kentucky Derby and some of the pre-race hype on TV. I don’t know squat about horses or why they like to run in circles, but it gave me an excuse to brush up on my Mint Julep technique.

Diversion #2 was using the Bourbon I had leftover from Diversion #1 to continue tinkering with a recipe I’ve been playing with for awhile. It’s a tiki-style concoction that features a conspicuous lack of rum*, but still (to me anyway) has the requisite “tiki taste.“


Bluegrass Blowgun

1.5 oz. Bourbon (I used Bulleit)
.75 oz. Agwa de Bolivia coca leaf liqueur
2 oz. unsweetened pineapple juice
.5 oz. simple syrup
.25 oz. cinnamon syrup
¼ tsp. Absinthe
2 dashes Angostura orange bitters

Shake with ice and strain into ice-filled double old-fashioned glass.** Garnish with orange wheel and any other tiki-themed paraphernalia that looks fun.


The secret weapon here is the Agwa, and I think it’s something that should be in every tiki drink enthusiast’s arsenal. It’s got a distinctive flavor- mellow, herbal, somewhat sweet, and with a borderline medicinal snap. It’s pleasing on it’s own, but it mixes so well it’s too much fun to not experiment with. Mr. Bali Hai over at Eye of the Goof apparently thought so too.

So even though I eschewed the fiesta crowd this year, I still think I should get some credit. Tiki drinks are technically south-of-the-border, right?



* I love rum…but I seem to have become enamored of rum-less tiki drinks lately.

** For bonus points, double the recipe and dump it into a Moai-shaped mug!

Sample Jamboree and the Tribulations of Tequila

Tequila is the base spirit I reach for least often. It’s not because I dislike it, it’s just that Tequila’s flavor is something I rarely feel myself wanting. The other reason I rarely drink it is a bit more complex. For me, the smell & taste of Tequila has become inextricably linked with a specific time and place. And when I’m having Tequila outside that specific time and place, it just seems somehow…less.

What I’m referring to is a Jimmy Buffett concert.

You see, I’ve attended almost every concert Jimmy Buffett has played in my hometown since about 1993. I’ve missed a few years here and there, but for the most part, I’ve managed to faithfully attend the show with my friends & family every year. Just like clockwork, Buffett rolls into town each Summer…and going to the show is an annual pilgrimage.

It’s difficult to describe the full scope of a Jimmy Buffett concert using only words. (and if you aren’t terribly interested in my feeble attempt to do so, please feel free to skip ahead to the recipes- My feelings won’t be hurt). Ideally, you should simply go to a show and let the experience wash over you, but most people want to have some idea of what they’re committing themselves to beforehand. So here goes…

A Buffett show can perhaps be described as an unruly, glorious mishmash of a luau, Mardi Gras, backyard cookout, and Spring break…all crammed into an arena, ballpark, or wherever else they put on jumbo-sized concerts. A clumsy analogy to be sure, but I’m doing my best here. (If you ‘re a picture person rather than a word person, simply do an image search under the term “Buffett tailgate” and you’ll get the idea).

It’s essentially an all-day party that happens to have a bit of music at the end. Depending on the venue, the revelry can start anywhere from 9 am to midday, and goes full-blast until around 8 o’clock when the concert starts. Attending the concert is purely optional. Many people spend the day having a good time regardless of whether they’re able or willing to see the show. Here’s a few reasons why:

~ The weather is almost always warm and sunny. But even if it wasn’t, this would not deter the hordes of partygoers from wearing their best tropical-themed good-time regalia, which includes, but is not limited to grass skirts, Hawaiian shirts, coconut bras, bikinis, and any combination thereof. And giant, elaborate hats. Serious hats. A more accurate term would probably be “headgear.” The kind of thing Carmen Miranda would wear to the Kentucky Derby. Shame does not exist in a Buffett parking lot.

~ People bring their own bars. Not just a cooler. Not just a card table with a few paltry bottles and a stack of keg cups on it. An honest-to-gawd BAR. Almost always homemade and tiki-themed, these marvels of engineering somehow fit into a normal-sized van or pickup truck and miraculously unfold to grace the parking lot with a welcome oasis of shade, rest and refreshment (many of them include roofs and stools). Did I mention that they often feature nicer décor and offer up better drinks than you can get at the kinds of bars that are made of bricks and can’t be packed into your trunk? Innovation and a can-do attitude are alive and well in America.

~ Serious eating. Like most tailgate events, food is not in short supply. In addition to the grilling of almost every conceivable type of land and sea creature, people are always finding new ways to cook stuff out of the backs of their cars. I’ve seen full-scale shrimp boils and people steaming mussels with real seaweed. If it was ever traditionally caught & cooked within a few miles of a coast, someone has figured out a way to replicate it in a Buffett show parking lot. You can also probably find almost any Summertime side dish provided you look hard enough. If you go hungry, it’s your own fault.

~ People bring their own beach. Much like the folks who bring their own bars, the beach people don’t mess around. If you’re craving the feel of sand between your toes, walk no more than 50 yards in any direction and your problem is solved. Untold hundreds of pounds of sand get hauled into the parking lot each year, destined to be spread as widely as possible, creating beachfront real estate between every row of cars. Kiddie pools are filled, tiki torches are staked & lit, and chaise lounges appear. Lifeguard towers too. I still don’t know how they manage those, but they’re there. Safety first, I guess.

~ Nudity. It happens with surprising frequency.

~ Booze. It’s all fueled by booze. Truly staggering amounts of booze. If you’ve got an empty hand, your fellow tailgaters will give you a drink. If you’ve got two empty hands, they’ll give you two drinks. There’s beer in colossal quantities. Hearty portions of rum. Inexhaustible, roving trays of jello shots. And Tequila. Whether straight from the bottle, in shot form with the ever-present lime and salt, or mixed with orange liqueur and lime juice and poured from a bicycle-powered blender, there is an epic amount of Tequila coursing through the parking lot at Buffett shows. All this Tequila worship stems primarily from a little ditty that Buffett recorded back in the 70’s called “Margaritaville.“ (I needn’t explain further… you’ve heard the song.).

So the association persists: Tequila equals tailgate. Conveniently enough, I prefer my Tequila in a Margarita, and it’s the sacred duty of the Bamboo Babe to provide them each year. She skillfully batches them in a large beverage cooler the morning of the show, and helping out has become one of my favorite traditions (If you’ve never had your entire house filled with the pungent aroma of Tequila at 9 a.m., you’re missing out. It’s an olfactory sensation that signals a good day will only get better).

However, if you prefer not to make your Margaritas by the gallon, here’s a recipe you can use to enjoy them one at a time. It’s the same one we scale up on concert day:


Laura’s Famous Margarita*

1.5 oz. Blanco Tequila
1 oz. lime juice
.5 oz. Cointreau

Shake with ice and strain into Margarita glass filed with cracked or crushed ice. We don’t salt the rim, but if you want to, then doowutchyalike.**


Our go-to Tequila brand for this drink is Sauza, but the kind folks at Tequila Ocho recently sent me a sample and I found it to be outstanding. They both work extremely well here…it just depends on how much zing you prefer (The Ocho is a bit more genteel than the Sauza, which has a snappy bite I enjoy ).

But not wanting to limit myself to Margaritas in perpetuity, I found this recipe in the most recent edition of the Mr. Boston’s book, and after trying it, I can say it’s darn good.


The Interesting Cocktail

2 oz. Blanco Tequila
.5 oz. Aperol
.5 oz. Crème de cacao (dark)
.75 oz. Lemon juice

Shake w/ ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a grapefruit twist.

(The Bamboo Babe suggested a better garnish for this one would be a thin wedge from a Terry's chocolate orange, and I think she’s exactly right.)


The Interesting Cocktail suffers from the “it doesn’t look good on paper” syndrome, but it’s worth a try- It has a great 3-way balance of Tequila, chocolate and citrus, and tapers off with a peppery finish. This would be a great gateway drink for the Tequila-shy.


By the way, the concert is June 23rd. If you’re going, let me know…we’ll have a drink waiting for you.



* Although my wife obviously did not invent this drink, it has become known by this name among our friends & family. Such things happen.

** In my opinion, one of the better tracks from Digital Underground’s acclaimed 1990 release, Sex Packets.

Why Is This Man So Angry?

Go here to find out!

Sample Jamboree and the Strange Allure of Unpopular Ingredients

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have a strange fascination with drink ingredients that no one seems to like. I don’t know whether I simply feel sorry for them in an orphaned-puppy kind of way, or if it’s more of a desire to find a way to successfully employ something everyone else has deemed unusable. Probably a bit of both.

One ingredient that appears to have been resoundingly written off by the cocktail community (or at least the part of it I communicate with regularly) is Zirbenz Stone Pine Liqueur. (I‘ve also seen it listed as “Zirbenz Stone Pine Liqueur of the Alps“, which to me sounds less like a beverage and more like a 1920’s adventure novel . For the sake of brevity, I’ll just call it “Zirbenz” from here on out).

Does this innocent distillate deserve to be lumped in with the other pariahs of the drink world? I should clarify right up front that I’m not saying Zirbenz isn’t good…it’s just that I don’t know anyone who uses it.* I know several people who own a bottle, but rarely (if ever) go back to it after the initial breaking of the seal. Whether this is because they don’t care for the taste or find it difficult to mix with I can’t say. What I can say is that I hate to see something get kicked to the back of the liquor cabinet without a fair shake. And I also have a sick compulsion to salvage stuff that gets rejected. The more people claim something is unworkable, the more I’m intrigued by it and endeavor to find a use for it.

For those that haven’t sampled it, it’s piney. Extremely piney. Imagine grinding up a Christmas wreath, adding the floor sweepings from a 7th-grade shop class and steeping it in a jug of Everclear for a month. Now you’ve got the picture. Which again, doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s just that a lot of people appear to have an aversion to things that taste of evergreen. Rick over at Kaiser Penguin recently discussed this in his investigation into why gin is such a hard-sell for many people.

Without going into the boring details of my personal quest to redeem Zirbenz, I’ll cut to the chase and say that I found gin to be an excellent base spirit to combine it with. I also discovered later on while browsing the Zirbenz site** that plenty of other folks apparently thought so too- most of the recipes listed are gin-centric.

So it’s at this point you’re probably thinking, “By all that is good and decent, why in the world would you pair a pine liqueur with another ingredient whose detractors cite overwhelming pine flavor as its biggest flaw?”

The answer is that I spent a tremendous amount of time and energy combining Zirbenz with virtually every other brand and style of base spirit in my liquor cabinet until I could definitively say that gin works best.

Actually, this is a complete lie. I came up with a drink name first and then hoped that the combination of ingredients that reflected the name would actually make a decent drink. The cosmic forces that govern booze nerd activity must have been on my side, because I think it actually does…


Zirbenz Kingsley

1.5 oz. gin
.5 oz. Zirbenz
2-3 dashes orange bitters
3 oz. tonic

Build first 3 ingredients in rocks glass with ice. Top with tonic and stir. Garnish with lime wedge.


Yep, it’s a just a Gin & Tonic. With Zirbenz. And a blip of bitters to wrap it all up. (It also helps the drink immensely to squeeze the lime wedge into it.)

A simple drink to be sure, but here’s the trick: The gin makes or breaks it. I won’t reveal how many different ones I tried, but I found that a lot of straightforward London drys don’t work well. Plymouth isn’t bad, but the ones I’d put at the top of the heap were North Shore #6 and Right. They’re both very soft, and I think it’s exactly this lack of sharpness that makes them match up so well with the Zirbenz, dulling it’s bite and making it whisper rather than shout. (I take this as some kind of divine sign, since both these gins arrived right in the middle of my experimentation period.)

So the moral of the story is this: If you’ve got some ingredient that just doesn’t seem to work in anything no matter what you try, do the following:

1) Persevere. There’s gotta be a use for it somewhere.
2) Tell me what it is. I have an irrational need to find homes for these things.




*I realize this sounds embarrassingly similar to the quote often (and apparently inaccurately) attributed to Pauline Kael about Nixon’s ‘72 presidential victory. Rest assured, I’m aware that someone has got to be using it.

**I also realized that I’m out of Zirbenz and need to get some more. I’ll bet there aren’t many people who have actually uttered those words.

What I've Learned: Year Two

Around this time last year I did a retrospective-ish list of stuff I'd learned during my first year of using the web to foist my booze-centric thoughts and pictures on an unwitting public. I figure if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

What I’ve Learned in my Second Year of Boozeblogging

~ Make your own syrups. It’s easier than you think and totally worth it.

~ I’m still surprised (and pleased) when people leave comments- especially people I don’t know personally. I just assume the only people who visit this site are the same seven booze nerds.

~ I like to use unpopular ingredients. I take it as a personal challenge to find some way to make them work in a drink. The more hopeless an ingredient appears, the stronger my compulsion to use it. Sick, I know.

~ Tovolo ice cube trays are a great investment. Please disregard the people who claim they are difficult to use. Yes, it takes *slightly* more time to remove the cubes than from a rigid plastic tray, but c’mon folks- anything worthwhile requires a little effort.

~ The first rule of Fight Club Liquors is: do not talk about Fight Club Liquors.

~ Even though Thursday Drink Night is big-time fun by yourself, it’s even more so if you can get several booze nerds in the same place for it. Not only does it help distribute the workload, but the conversation is priceless.

~ Apparently if you live in Sweden you have access to an unholy variety of rum.

~ Since starting this site 2 years ago, I’ve been asked to do the same sort of thing I do here for a magazine and a newsletter. I certainly appreciate the opportunities, but now I’m gripped by the question of whether people like articles about booze better when they’re accompanied by a cartoon…or whether they like cartoons better when accompanied by an article about booze.

~ A good channel knife makes all the difference

~ Boozeblogging may cause bottles of liquor to show up frequently and unexpectedly at your front door. I now know my UPS man very well.

~ Various vintages of Mr. Boston’s bar guides can be found for pennies at flea markets and similar venues. Even if you don’t like the recipes, they’re a great way to get a sense of drinking trends throughout the years.

~ I had a Bloody Mary in New Orleans that was so good I want to go back almost solely to have another one.

~ Some brand reps at trade shows are great and some are awful. For every friendly, knowledgeable outgoing rep there seems to be one who could care less. Hint: If you want me to be interested in your product, then YOU should appear to be interested in your product. If you ‘re trying to promote your stuff with no information whatsoever and are clearly unable (or unwilling) to answer even rudimentary questions, then you’re not really putting your best foot forward. And behaving as though you’d rather be anywhere else doing anything else and not even having a business card isn’t going to leave me with a terribly positive view of your product.

~ Steel juicers are better than cast aluminum ones.

~ If you’re a drink geek, you owe it to yourself to attend Tales of the Cocktail. If nothing else, you’ll meet several other people who are just as concerned about the coarseness of their crushed ice as you are.

~ This time last year, I characterized my fellow boozebloggers as unbelievably friendly, generous and encouraging. They continue to be exactly those things, and having met many of them in person since then, I’m glad to know them. I hope they’ll all still be here this time next year.

~ It would be a hell of a lot easier if I just took photos of the drinks.