Banana Clover Club

I was perusing the built-in recipes on my one of my cocktail shakers today and noticed a recipe for something called a "Clover Club". It says:


2/3 dry gin
1 egg white
1/3 lemon juice
grenadine
ice


Curious, I did some quick Googlery and found a Wikipedia entry about it that says:

The Clover Club Cocktail is a cocktail consisting of Gin, Lemon Juice, Raspberry Syrup (or Grenadine), and an Egg white. The Egg white is not added for the purpose of giving the drink flavor, but rather acts as an emulsifier. Thus when the drink is shaken a characteristic foamy head is formed.

The Clover Club Cocktail is a drink that pre-dates Prohibition, and is named for the Philadelphia mens club of the same name, which met in the Bellevue-Stratford hotel.[1] It has a long history dating back to at least 1911, and was enjoyed by the captains of industry who were members of the famous club. In its Heyday the drink was described by Jack Townsend as being enjoyed by the pre-prohibition gentleman who would have fit in with those of the club, and was a "Distinguished patron of the oak-paneled lounge." However, by the time that Townsend was writing about the drink it was becoming unpopular, and was eventually all but forgotten.

The drink seems to have been forgotten partly due to the use of raw egg in the cocktail, which many people shy away from, and partly due to the complexity of its preparation. Despite the use of what some may consider to be strange ingredients the cocktail is enjoyable, and has been described as tart with the added syrup giving the drink complexity, and the egg white providing body as well as a foamy head.

Wikipedia gives the recipe as:


1 1/2 Oz. Gin
3/4 Oz. Lemon Juice
1/4 Oz. Raspberry Syrup (or Grenadine)
1 Egg White

Dry shake ingredients to emulsify, add ice, shake and served straight up.


Eager to resurrect this "forgotten" drink, I consulted the kitchen and determined some adjustments would be necessary. I'm all out of gin, so I substituted vodka. No Grenadine or raspberry syrup in the house either, so I went for a more tropical motif using banana nectar. Since banana was now the theme of the drink, I decided to omit the lemon juice. And instead of fresh egg whites, I took the lazy way back to the ranch and used powdered egg whites.

The final verdict: it's weird. But I like weird.

The package of powdered egg whites says to use 2 teaspoons of the powder to equal 1 egg white, but I deliberately used more egg whites than called for, just to see what would happen. I used 2 heaping tablespoons, and when I say heaping, I mean heaping.

My version:


1 1/2 Oz. Vodka
2 tbsp Deb-El Egg Whites
2 tbsp water
1/4 oz. Looza banana nectar

Shake the egg whites and the water together, then add vodka, banana nectar, and ice. Shake again.



What I got was a much richer, frothier, firmer head on the mixture; one that resisted pouring out, which was handy - I filled the glass 3/4 full and then ladled out the foam to sit atop the liquid. It's almost meringue-like in its consistency, which probably isn't what the old boys at the Clover Club had in mind. In fact, this is so far off from the original recipe that I should probably just call it something else entirely. Any ideas?

The Primordial Soup Cocktail

I consume equal parts junk food and health food, and I believe they mostly balance each other out. I'm not a big fan of vegetables in general, but I will consume anything if you reduce it to liquid. So I constantly run my Waring juicer and fill it with tomatoes, carrots, spinach, lettuce, cabbage, bananas, lemons, limes, oranges, apples, radishes, turnips, onions, grapefruit, watermelon, honeydew, canteloupe, guava, papaya, pears, strawberries, ginger root, pineapple, grapes, kiwi, celery, horseradish, etc., all in one big witch's brew of Plastids.

The resultant mixture isn't for everybody. I love the total plant-fiber immersion of it, but I've had even vegetarians tell me they don't find it palatable to have all those things mixed together into one super-powerful primordial soup.

And that's just what I call it when I add booze - the Primordial Soup Cocktail. At various times, I've added rum, vodka or cachaca to the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink juice mix, and I can report that the brainpower rush that comes from all that bombardment with planty goodness is exponentially enhanced by alcohol.

The Primordial Soup with rum isn't far off from various Zombie recipes, which usually calls for mixing three different types of rum with three different types of fruit juice. I hope you'll agree my version punts it to the vanishing point, especially when served in a Hurricane glass.

Some people's idea of a Zombie, however, is to mix several different types of liquor entirely - vodka, rum, gin and even bourbon. To do that with my mega-mix from the juicer would be such a senses-reaming experience I'd be tempted to name it the Total Perspective Vortex, in honor of Douglas Adams.

(Of course, it would probably taste bizarre and possibly make the imbiber quite ill and send them to Shambala. So, of course, we have to try it.)

The Hungarian Caipirinha

What happens when the unstoppable force of Brazil's Cachaça meets the unmovable object of Hungary's Zwack?

It didn't sound very good, but I had to find out.

Unfortunately, in my attempts to add Zwack to a traditional Caipirinha, I found that lime juice simply ruins the Zwack, even if it's just a few drops. They just don't get along.

(And then I wondered - why there isn't a snooty fine liqueur that does for lime what Cointreau does for orange? Did a quick Google search and discovered that yes, there are such products, but I've never heard of any of them. Will get back to y'all on this. Look for a redux of this recipe in the future.)

So, forget the lime juice. As the plastic surgeon said to the Joker, let's see how we did:


2 parts Zwack
1 part Cachaça (Dark or Gold type)
5 dashes of Angostura Bitters

Shake well.
Chill in shaker in freezer for a few minutes.
Reshake and quickly pour into shots.


I chose Ypioca Gold as my Cachaça of choice specifically because it's the funkiest, bitterest brand out there with a psychoactive whap-a-dang that perfectly matches the Zwack that those crazy Hungarians have wrought, God bless 'em. Bela Lugosi, thou art avenged.

Keep it Zwacky. Let the Zwack dominate the formula and you can't do wrong. The Cachaça pipes up and makes its presence known in such a loud shrill voice that one might even make it 3 parts Zwack to 1 part Cachaça and still come out alright. For perversity's sake, I added several shakes of Angostura Bitters, which is a bit like coals to Newcastle here but what the hey.

I suspect what it really needs to push it over and to make the Hungary-Brazil fusion fair and balanced, however, is Lluvia de Estrella Lime Tequila liqueur. I'll let ye know.

Kraken Black Spiced Rum

For some time now, there's been a bottle on the shelf behind the bar at Havana Rumba that keeps catching my eye. Kraken Black Spiced Rum, they call it. Exquisite retro-steampunk-pirate packaging, right down to an authentically antiquey bottle with raised lettering and fingerloops at the base of the neck. The label bears the image of an old-timey giant octopus or squid, right out of Jules Verne. What's not to love?

Well, as it turns out, nothing. I recently had the good fortune to sample a Kraken Pina Colada at Havana Rumba and was bowled over as if I'd been mauled by the giant squid. This is clearly no ordinary rum, friends. Hoist up the John B's sails, see how the main sail sets.

Though dark rums are generally not used in a Mojito, I'm thinkin' about getting one specially-made next time I'm propping up the bar there and hearing the siren-song of the mighty and mysterious Kraken.

The first thing you notice about the stuff is that it's not just dark, it's black. I mean black. Black as pitch, black as night, black as coal or Coca-Cola. I don't know whether or not they chose the squid motif because the rum itself resembles squid ink, but it's a charming thought, isn't it?

It's 94 proof, which really makes me wish I'd gotten to try a shot of it straight without all the Pina and the Colada, tasty though that was. I'll probably score a bottle of it soon anyway and start contriving some seaworthy recipes for it.

Tell Captain Morgan we won't be needing his services anymore, thanks.

The Kentucky Colonel Cocktail

The Kentucky Colonels have their own official cocktail, and it may come as a surprise that I have yet to try it. I do have several recipes for it in my files, but this is basically it:

2 oz. bourbon
1/2 oz. Benedictine (the liqueur, not the cucumber dip)
Twist of lemon peel

Shake well. Pour over crushed ice in a rocks glass. Garnish with the lemon peel.

The term "Kentucky Colonel" is an honorary title bestowed by the governor of Kentucky. It dates back to the War of 1812 when the Kentucky Militia were called out and Governor Isaac Shelby found their services useful; he decided to appoint one of them (Charles S. Todd) an aide-de-camp on the Governor's Staff with the rank and grade of honorary Colonel. Since then, the ranks of these Colonels has swelled to many thousands, including Bill Clinton, Johnny Depp, John Glenn, Tiger Woods, and yours truly.

Sooner or later I'll get around to trying the Kentucky Colonel Cocktail, but it may have to be out somewhere and not here at home, because I just don't keep Benedictine around and am not inclined to go out and buy a bottle just for this recipe. My next liquor store purchase will probably be St. Germain's, so maybe I'll report back here at some point with a newer and truer old-world drink for the new millenium.

(Thanks to The Tipsy Texan for the photo!)

Don't Get Jägerbombed

One of the stupidest pasttimes in all of drunkitude is the growing practice of mixing alcohol with caffeine, which is a little like mixing oil and water. (Just ask BP about that.)

As Wikipedia notes:

The effects of a Jägerbomb are held to be different from those of other alcoholic drinks. This is attributed to the fact that the energy drink has a stimulating effect upon the central nervous system, whereas the alcohol has a depressing effect. Consequently, some of the effects of intoxication are masked.

Right. So, uh, if you're in a bar spending your hard-earned bucks on booze, why on Earth would you want to choose a drink with which the effects of intoxication are masked?! Save your money and just don't drink, if that's the case!

And according to FOX News:

Caffeine and alcohol can be a deadly mix. The rising popularity of mixed drinks like the "Jager Bomb" (Jagermeister and Red Bull) or the self-explanatory "Vodka and Red Bull" has worrying implications for road safety, research shows.

The problem stems from consuming a stimulant alongside an intoxicant, which clinical studies have shown can reduce the perception of being drunk but not the impairment.

I don't even know why people find "energy drinks" so appealing anyway, but to ruin perfectly good Jägermeister is even more ridiculous and even more of a crime.

Mint Julep

To paraphrase Mark Twain, everybody talks about the Mint Julep but nobody ever does anything about it.

I recently read some magazine article - can't remember where now - that talked about how played-out, overrated, and overhyped the Mint Julep is. They talked to some bartender who said she rarely is ever called upon to make one, except by the occasional rube tourist at Derby time. The article also stated that although people go through the motions of having Mint Juleps for Derby, few people actually like them and they toss them aside after a few token sips for tradition's sake.

I posit that the reason these people feel this way about the Mint Julep is because they've never actually had one prepared properly. Hint: it doesn't come from a pre-made bottle, it doesn't come from a store-bought syrup, and it doesn't come from a mix. That this goes without saying should go without saying.

If you really want to do it right, follow the poetic instructions of General Simon Bolivar Buckner Jr. to the absolute letter. Failing that, here's my simple solution that doesn't involve simple syrup:


Granulated sugar
Powdered sugar
Fresh mint leaves
Finely crushed ice
Bourbon

Muddle one pinch of mint with the granulated sugar in a metal Julep cup. Some will tell you to just gently bruise it and not pulverize it, but I say go nuts and pound the hell out of it. The granulated sugar will help give you something to grind against.

Fill the cup to the top with finely crushed ice, fine as a Sno-Cone. Pour bourbon almost to the top, then add your second pinch of mint. It's your second pinch, that will garnish the top, that you want to just mildly bruise and not smush into pieces. Then dust the top generously with powdered sugar.

Those with bourbon-sensitive palates should note that a proper Julep, contrary to how it's commonly fixed, is essentially bourbon with a little mint and a little sugar, NOT mint and sugar with a little bourbon. If you prefer bourbon-based drinks in which you can't taste the bourbon, you might consider the likelihood that bourbon-based drinks are not for you.

Also note that a metal cup is a must - preferably a genuine Julep Cup intended for this purpose, and if it's an antique one (see image of mine above), all the better. If you're doing it in a container made of glass or plastic, don't even bother. Just have a Gin Rickey instead or something.

Alternate versions: if you're dead set on having a Mint Julep even though you don't like bourbon, may I recommend cutting the bourbon somewhat with either Barenjager (my first choice) or Southern Comfort. I suppose eliminating the bourbon entirely in favor of these beverages is permissible - what the hell, it's your drink, buddy - but the thought of it makes the purist in me all fremdschämen.