Adam McDowell2013-06-19T13:06:46-04:00Adam McDowellhttp://www.huffingtonpost.ca/author/index.php?author=adam-mcdowellCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Adam McDowellGood old fashioned elbow grease.Make Egg Cocktails With Your Easter Leftoverstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.14286822012-04-16T16:10:05-04:002012-06-16T05:12:01-04:00Adam McDowellhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/adam-mcdowell/
Back in the day, unfertilized chicken embryos were a staple bar ingredient, dropping raw eggs into flips, nogs, sours, fizzes, certain cocktails, and other things relatively few people drink anymore. Over time, eggy drinks fell out of fashion (there seems to be a lot more talk of them in my cocktail books from before prohibition than after).
The craft cocktail revival is bringing eggs back to the bar. Still, bartenders tell me it tends to be the connoisseurs, the intrepid explorers of cocktailology, who take the plunge. Casual drinkers, don't let us have all the fun.
I blame a culture of fear around food and the gradual narrowing of the North American palate. I could go on about people's food anxieties. It's enough to say that eggy cocktails are a lot tastier than you'd imagine, and suitable for people who don't like the flavour of a cooked egg.
Apparently people expect the addition of raw egg to make a drink slimy and chunky and taste like eggs.
No. If you only use the white, the protein creates a layer of froth that sits atop the liquid, turning the cocktail into something delicate, silky and soft. And egg whites have little to no flavour themselves, so the drink will not taste like egg.
My fellow Canadian Darcy O'Neil explains here at Art of Drink: "The main protein (ovalbumin), in eggs, is a tightly wound molecule and when it is shaken or beaten, it unravels. Think of shaking a big box full of slinkies and then trying to sort them out."
People also hesitate because of fears over salmonella. It might help to know that the U.S. Food and Drug Administration estimates that these harmful bacteria infect just one egg out of 20,000 in the United States. That's a big number; it would take you 55 years to consume 20,000 eggs at a rate of one a day.
And on top of that, while I'm no scientist, I also figure alcohol is a disinfectant. If that's a spurious argument, I'm happy to be corrected on it. Of course, some people have compromised immune systems and won't want to take unnecessary risks no matter what the odds. Fair enough.
There are other unrelated concoctions going around calling themselves by this name. This one is an evolved species of flip and is adapted from Hugo Ensslin's Recipes for Mixed Drinks(1917); I amended it to egg white only, cutting out the yolk. It requires you to track down orgeat syrup and orange flower water, but you'll be glad you did. As a hint, Italian specialty food stores often have the former, and Middle Eastern stores the latter. Or you can just Google them and order online.
• 2 oz. rye whisky
• ½ oz. orgeat
• white of 1 egg
• 2 dashes -- say, 1/8 tsp. -- orange flower water
• dash of freshly grated nutmeg to garnish
Method: In a cocktail shaker half filled with ice, add all ingredients except nutmeg. Seal and shake vigorously until frothy (one minute should do it) and strain into chilled rocks glass. Add dash of nutmeg across the surface.
Remember: Always shake egg drinks very hard and until a thick froth develops. If your arms can't take it, some people use a hand blender instead.
FROM LIQUOR.COM: The Bubbly Secret To Spring Cocktails ]]>Why You'll Never Be Served Vodka at My (Imaginary) Pizzeriatag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.14217702012-04-14T14:38:27-04:002012-06-14T05:12:01-04:00Adam McDowellhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/adam-mcdowell/Highland Park tasting at Toronto's Colborne Lane, I ended up in a bit of a philosophical discussion with a local bartender. This guy possesses real talent, but many of his customers wouldn't know it. They just order whatever boring drink they always get. (This happens at every establishment, no matter how solid the bar staff.)
Unlike some other skilled bar folk around town, Talented Bartender said he would never cast a disapproving look at, or refuse, an order for a crappy, bland drink -- a vodka and soda, for example.
(In case you didn't know, many cocktail and spirits snobs -- including me -- turn their noses up at vodka. I explain why here.)
But vodka and soda is what the people want, says Talented Bartender. It's their right to reject the (really nice) cocktails he makes in favour of something safe, even if they only do so because they're a bit afraid of the unfamiliar. And a restaurant has to make money after all.
Bear with me while I present my counter-argument using pizza.
Imagine you apprenticed under some renowned pizza maker in Naples for a year, slaving away slicing ingredients while sweating next to a hot oven.
You've spent long nights reading up on the history of pizza. You talk about pizza; dream about pizza. You're obsessed.
Now a bona fide pizza snob -- and I mean "snob" in the nicest possible way -- you return to your home country, buy a top-of-the-line wood-burning oven, and open for business. You proudly await the first customers salivating for authentic Neapolitan pie.
Except this is what they say: "Uh, can you serve us something with a stuffed crust?"
Well, no. Not here. Not in the best, most authentic pizzeria in town.
Snobbery is a calling, a mission. Part of that mission, I would argue, is to say no to mediocrity. It includes explaining why a customer shouldn't order crappy mixed drinks at one's awesome cocktail bar.
While saying no to the mundane, you're pushing people to say yes to the unfamiliar. People are often afraid to try new things, especially if those things go into their mouths. You practically have to force people to venture beyond their safe zones. But it's good for them when they do.
Is this know-it-all arrogance? Sure. But you want the person feeding you to be a bit arrogant and a bit of a know-it-all, because it means she's going to try her hardest to impress and educate and delight you. You'll be confident what you're getting is the real deal.
The snob also works this hard because she respects you, her customers. She thinks you're worthy of the best. She has faith that you'll appreciate quality the way she does -- if only you'll try it. Show that respect back by following her lead.
The fancy pizzeria has a mission to provide people with a more refined experience than the chain restaurants. Run-of-the-mill pizza still has its place. Likewise, even a vodka and soda has its uses (granted, the only one I could think of was blotting a fresh ink stain off a shirt).
The point is, we ought to keep special experiences special by not dumbing them down to the lowest common denominator. If you're in a fancy cocktail bar, order something fancy. You'll drink better, look smarter, and make for a happier bartender.
Meanwhile, if you want a stuffed crust, go to Pizza Hut. If you want a vodka and soda, head to a club that does bottle service.
I wouldn't serve you either one at the mind-blowingly amazing pizza and cocktail parlour I just dreamed up in my head. You'll be offered something made with care, and it'll be so much tastier that you might never go back to your old ways.
]]>How to Make Punchier Punchtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.14035372012-04-04T16:55:06-04:002012-06-04T05:12:02-04:00Adam McDowellhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/adam-mcdowell/
You think it's the fruity stuff in a big bowl, often pinkish, with fruit floating in it. The pretty liquid you see when you search for "bowl of punch" on Pinterest. The stuff that appears in magazines a dozen times for every time someone actually makes it in real life for a party. You think punch is the "punch" that was invented around the early 20th century, after everyone had forgotten what the good, old punch was supposed to taste like.
Modern fruity punch isn't all that tasty -- or at any rate, it isn't worth the effort. That's why no one makes it.
Punch used to be, and ideally still is, something both more spartan and more delicious -- and, dare I say, manlier. It should be based around spirits, water, sugar, spice and citrus. Except the citrus is in juice form, not sliced up as peels and left to turn soggy and gross. It's something like a hand-shaken daiquiri, but made on a larger scale.
We know this thanks to David Wondrich's fantastic 2010 book Punch: The Delights (and Dangers) of the Flowing Bowl (Perigee, $30). Wondrich hopes to instruct a new generation on the deceptively simple and unadorned punches of yore (i.e., the 17th through 19th centuries). These were thirstily consumed by pirates and lords and ladies and rogues and students and Charles Dickens. In other words, everyone.
In addition to rollicking anecdotes, the book is full of wonderful and simple punch recipes such as the one below. It's based around coconut arrack, which is a Sri Lankan spirit available in my home province of Ontario as of about a year ago. If you can't find any of that, this recipe could potentially work with cachaça (a spirit similar to rum from Brazil), but I've not tried that.
What I have done is make this punch twice for parties, and it's been a hit with guests.
But first, a public service announcement: "Be forewarned," Wondrich writes, for a Brit residing in India wrote in 1676 that "the usuall [sic] effect of that accursed Bombay punch" sees its consumers "besotting themselves with drunkenness" and then quarelling, duelling and committing misdeeds 'to the shame, scandall, and ruine of our nation.' "
If you can't imagine your guests descending into those kinds of shenanigans, proceed. I've found the easiest way is to prepare a sort of punch mix (usually just a mix of citrus juice and sugar) ahead of time. You can put it in a bottle until the party starts. Then you can add other things: booze, water and ice.
But first, buy a big -- and I mean big -- food container. I've got ones that are about 1.9 liters, or 8 cups. Fill it with water and put in the freezer for 24 hours, to be sure it has time to freeze. What you end up with is one big ice block to dunk into the punch, which will keep it cold without diluting it too much.
BOMBAY PRESIDENCY PUNCH
• 3/4 cup fresh lime juice (at least eight limes' worth)
• 3/4 cup jaggery or palm sugar (if available; otherwise substitute cane sugar)
• 4 cups water, or more to taste
• 1 750 mL bottle coconut arrack
• whole nutmeg
Method: Squeeze enough limes to get 3/4 cup of juice; add to sugar in a bowl and stir well, until dissolved. Add water and arrack; stir. Grate a bit of nutmeg overtop.
Incidentally, I've crunched the numbers and, for your and your guests' information, the resulting punch is around 8 percent alcohol, assuming you use 40 percent alcohol arrack. The above recipe makes roughly 35-40 three-ounce servings; you can of course scale everything up for a larger group. ]]>
