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.

Aunt Beru and the Blue Leader

For years now, there's this little baby bottle of 'island blue' sweet-and-sour "Pucker" schnapps that's been taking up space in the official JSH secret cocktail lounge.

How did it get there? I have no idea. Certainly isn't something I'd choose to part with coin for, myself. As Colleen Graham astutely observed in a review of it: "there was not one mix I tried where Island Blue Pucker didn't completely destroy the drink. Even a dash did some otherwise good cocktails in."

It must have been imported by a guest and left behind, at some sort of evening of debauchery whose details are likely best kept buried in the archives of the mind. So, the other night I decided to clean out the bar and get rid of that silly little bottle of dreadful drink. And what better way to accomplish that task than to mix it up for some Ouzo shooters?

Since it isn't likely that the mating of Island Blue Pucker and Ouzo has been consummated previously on this planet, we consider this another big win - however pyrrhic - for our side. And it actually tastes pretty good, surprisingly enough.


What to call it? Victoria, faithful Jedi that she is, promptly suggested two names, both of which just happen to be Star Wars-themed: Blue Leader and Aunt Beru. (Luke's Aunt Beru, as you may recall, is briefly seen filling a pitcher of some sort of blue milky substance.)

So it is, with the powers invested in me as the Mayor of Pulcova, I hereby decree an Aunt Beru to be the name for the mix in shot form, while it's designated a Blue Leader when enjoyed in a martini glass.


It's 2 parts Ouzo, one part Pucker. Shaken on ice, which gives it that lovely magickal louche, also known as The Ouzo Effect (which would make a great band name) and Ostwald Ripening (not so much).

Don't make the same mistake I did and consume large quantities of Ouzo when you have to get up at 6am the next morning. Ouzo can be a very mind-altering beverage - especially a bottle that's aged, as mine is. I tossed and turned in bed having crazy fevered dreams all night. But that's life in the Blue Leader's Squadron.

Orange Jicama Cocktail

I've always wanted to make a jicama martini or a jicama cocktail, and finally I've done so. Another victory for our intrepid team of researchers at the Creeps Science Department.

Jicama has a slight bland funk to it, one that doesn't matter so much when you eat it raw but it sure as heck stands out when you're drinking the juice. The original plan had been to make it a vodka-based martini, but instead I opted to fight funk with funk. Rather than trying to mask the odd vegetable whang of jicama, I threw something equally pungent at it: Cachaca.

And not just any Cachaca, but Ypioca Gold, the granddaddy of all powerfully senses-reshuffling mega-fermented Brazilian golden goodness.

So what's the recipe? The envelope, please:

3 parts freshly juiced jicama
1 part cachaca
1 part Cointreau
1 tbsp sugar

Shake well. Garnish with orange slice if you got one (I didn't).



This "wild root cream oil" kinda bev'age obviously isn't for everyone. Me, I'm fine with it minus the Cointreau, but I think the average palate would take to it a little better with that orangey touch. You may be just fine using Grandma but I'm a snob and must have my Cointreau. (I haven't tried Mandarine Napoléon yet but it's on my to-drink list.)


Wasn't inclined to give this'n a clever name - the "Orange Jicama" suits me fine. I think the turnip-like rooty-grassy zing of jicama might be even better paired with the smooth and cucumberly Hendrick's Gin, and experiments in the "Hendrick's Jicama" are forthcoming. I might also attempt a theoretical drink called a "Hillbilly Jicama", with bourbon or Southern Comfort as the kicker.

Bacon-Infused Old Fashioned

While surfing the web for maple-powered bourbon cocktails similar to The Veranda, I came across a recipe on nymag.com for an Old Fashioned that uses maple syrup and bacon-infused bourbon:

2 ounces bacon-infused bourbon
1/4 ounce Grade B maple syrup
2 dashes Angostura bitters
Twist of orange

For tips on how to make your own bacon-infused bourbon, read the full article at nymag.com or also peruse Brendan & Wayland's attempts at bacon-infused vodka.

View the video of PDT's Don Lee making a Bacon Old Fashioned here!