Imbibist

Being a good drinking and gambling man (or couple), Lovely Girlfriend and I spent the weekend of the 2009 Kentucky Derby at a favorite Nevada casino resort. I will refrain from mentioning the name of the resort, as it generally offers an enjoyable experience. Indeed, this property is one of the few remaining casinos in Northern Nevada that is not overrun by the fortified wine, malt liquor, and methamphetamine crowds. I would hate to shame a decent establishment over a silly bartending mistake, but the mistake deserves to be retold.
 

A Traditional Mint Julep, courtesy of Velo Steve via Flickr.

We watched the race – an intense come from behind victory by the 50-to-1 long shot Mine That Bird – from the anxious confines of the sports book. After witnessing the historic finish, along with the expressions of anguish and elation from the betting populace, we felt it necessary to imbibe the traditional drink of the Kentucky Derby, the Mint Julep.
 

I realize there are many variations on this classic cup, but when I order a Mint Julep from a nondescript bar in a casino, I’m expecting Bourbon whiskey. After taking our order, the bartender filled two highball glasses with light rum and Sprite, and topped them with a sprig of mint. “There must be customers ahead of us,” I thought, until he presented the two glasses to me.
 

“Here you go,” offered the bartender.
 

“What’s this?” I replied.
 

“Mint Julep!”
 

“With rum and Sprite?”
 

“Yeah! Mint Julep!”
 

“I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to have Bourbon,” I said, carefully avoiding any accusations of ignorance.
 

Another patron chimed in. “That ain’t no Mint Julep, buddy. Yer supposed to use whiskey, goddammit!”
 

“No, Mint Julep! Here you go!” the bartender insisted.
 

And so we went, with drinks in hand and a new appreciation for local interpretation. Who were we to argue? In Reno, a flubbed Mojito and a Mint Julep are one and the same. For a more accurate and tastier take on the Mint Julep, see this entry from Imbibe Magazine.
 

OK, summer is not here quite yet, technically speaking. But the weather has been beautiful, save a few rainy days. Seventy-four degrees just the other day. That’s only seven or eight degrees cooler than it will be on an average day in July here. And I’ve already attended – check that, hosted – a weekend pool party, and that was in late March.
 

So as far as I’m concerned, Summer is Here.
 

Which has me thinking about summer drinks. Many a whiskey lover will agree it is a difficult beverage to tolerate on a warm and bright day. Same goes for brandy. Gins, rums, and tequilas tend to excel in these conditions, which is why so many of the summer classics – your pisco sours, daiquiris, margaritas, and the like – are based on these spirits. My favorite summertime concoction, however, is not based on one of the clear liquors. It’s not even a cocktail, by definition, but a highball.
 

I’m talking about the Pimm’s Cup.
 

Yeah, yeah, I know. Pimm’s is a gin based liqueur. But it’s far from gin… you wouldn’t make a martini with it.
 

Why I love this tipple so much, I am not sure. Perhaps it’s the fresh cucumber. Maybe the ginger beer. Or it could be the memories and anticipations of past and future trips to New Orleans, a veritable center of drinking on this fine planet. Regardless, below is my personal take on this classic.
 

Pimm’s Cup
2 oz Pimm’s No. 1 Original Cup
Cock’n Bull Ginger Beer
Fresh Cucumber
 

Lightly muddle a cucumber slice or two in the bottom of a highball glass. Fill with ice. Add Pimm’s, and top off with the Ginger Beer. Give it a stir, and garnish with another cucumber slice. Consume. Repeat until tipsy.

Understand that it’s the ginger beer that will make the drink. I’ve played around with a few different brands, including Reed’s and Bundaberg, but I find the spiciness of Cock’n Bull essential in separating my version from the kid drinks. Perhaps one day I’ll shell out the $2.55 for a single bottle of Blenheim’s, but until then…
 

We just can’t get enough.

Fantastico. If that’s a word. In Italian.

“Well, if this is out there, think how much more is out there! This is the kind of music that tells me to go out there and be somebody!“

        Steve Martin, as Navin R. Johnson in The Jerk

About a year ago, a rather degenerate hobby was taken on by this author that sprouted from necessity. It had come to my attention that Liquore Galliano – that yellow, infamous what-the-hell-do-I-do-with-this bottle found in many bars – had undergone a reformulation, bringing it back to its original pre-1980s form. While I enjoy the new (original) Galliano, I realized the flavor I’d grown up with would soon be extinct, and that I must build an apocalyptic stockpile before Armageddon set in.
 

One cannot find old bottles of booze in high turnover shops like BevMo or your chain grocery stores. One must seek them wisely. El Camino Real, the old Spanish highway that defines the Mission Trail of California, is littered with small liquor stores along the Peninsula and into the South Bay. These store serve an important purpose in (sub)urban society. Lottery tickets, tobacco products, VHS pornography, and international calling cards are all staples here. Random items from both extremes of the Utility Scale are readily available; I once found fifteen (15) unwrapped Sandy Alomar, Jr porcelain bobbleheads next to the neglected and dusty bottles of giardiniera in an El Camino shop. More importantly, local men of the alleys know to come here for alcoholic refreshment. Cheap fortified wines, forty ounce bottles of malt liquor, and The Club’s Brass Monkey in a Can are hot items. Galliano is not.
 

Luxardo Perla Dry. Bums don't like this stuff.

Many bottles of Old Galliano have been recovered by the author in these dank establishments. The Galliano is not alone, however, as I’ve discovered a number of “museum pieces” along the way. This is where the miscreant hobby I mentioned above comes in, as I began collecting any bottle that piqued my interest. Bottle Slummin’, if you will. Some bottles are novelties, others simply interesting relics of a bygone era. A few, surprisingly, are actually drinkable.
 

One such find is Luxardo Perla Dry, which I happened upon on a recent Old Galliano run. As you can see, the bottle is identical to Luxardo Maraschino, save the label. According to the Luxardo website, Perla Dry is Maraschino liqueur that “is further aged to complete and round out the bouquet and to obtain an even greater concentrate that releases a high aromatic force. Highly recommended for use in pralines (truffles).”
 

Of course, I had no idea what Perla Dry was when I came across it. Given the $11.99 price point, however, I could not leave without it. My bottle looks nothing like the one on the website. And the ABV does not match either – mine is 80 Proof versus the 70 shown online. As the name implies, it is drier than Maraschino. And as mentioned in an earlier post, it makes a harsh Last Word. But in drinks where the Maraschino doesn’t play such a major role, it is a fine substitute, offering a subtle shift from what you are accustomed to.
 

Just mixed a Last Word using Luxardo Perla Dry instead of their standard Maraschino. The Perla’s higher ABV can’t be missed. At this point, the process of finding the Perla Dry is more compelling than this drink.

It’s high time for another infusion project. The problem is that I have a full load of Real Life staring me down right now, so the project must be simple or there will be no project at all. Problem solved.
 

This is easily the simplest project I’ve taken on thus far: Vanilla Bourbon. Prep work: simple. Maintenance: simpler. Risk factor: essentially zero.
 

Find an empty 375ml bottle (I keep plenty specifically for this purpose). Split a vanilla bean. Place vanilla bean halves into said 375ml bottle. Fill 375ml bottle with, oh, about 375ml of Maker’s Mark. Cap bottle. Turn over bottle multiple times per day, for 48 hours. Strain bourbon, discard vanilla bean. Serve.
 

Why, no, that isn't Chartreuse.

Yes, I do realize there is a commercially prepared vanilla whiskey available, but it’s not exactly bourbon. A Bourbon/Canadian blend, sweetened, and marketed to vodka drinkers. Not my idea of fun.

You didn’t make it to New Orleans for Mardi Gras either. Oh well, we can pretend. And what better way to pretend than by mixing an original New Orleans cocktail. Walter Bergeron, once the head barkeep at the Hotel Monteleone in New Orleans, created the Vieux Carré cocktail sometime in the early 20th Century.
 

Vieux Carré Cocktail. Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone, New Orleans.

Le Vieux Carré translates from French to “the Old Square,” and Bergeron supposedly created the drink in honor of the neighborhood us English speakers refer to as the French Quarter. The Vieux Carre pictured above was mixed for me by the great Marvin Allen at the Carousel Bar, located inside the hotel where the drink itself was born. As Marvin warned me, it’s more of a night drink, but feel free to mix one up for lunch today if you are so inclined.
 

Vieux Carré Cocktail

From Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails.
 

1 oz. Rye Whiskey
1 oz. Cognac
1 oz. Sweet Vermouth
1/2 teaspoon Benedictine
2 dashes Angostura Bitters
2 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters
 

Shake all ingredients in a cocktail shaker and strain into an ice filled rocks glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

While it’s easy enough to get a drink in a Las Vegas casino, you never know exactly what will be delivered to you. Hi-balls are a popular choice. But while one manager wants to get you drunk and sloppy, another is squeezing pennies and watering down. I’ve come to learn the Crazy Horse Bar in the MGM Grand makes a good and consistent Martini. And if I’m ordering from the blackjack table, I’ll stick with beer or a premium spirit, either neat or on the rocks. Finding a well made craft cocktail in a casino is an impossible task. Or is it? The rebirth of classic ingredients like bitters and fresh juices has found its way to a handful of Las Vegas casino bars. But can they execute? In the spirit of sacrifice and discovery, your favorite amateur cocktailian ventured out to Sin City in search of answers.
 

MGM Down
 

A recent trip to Vegas exposed my girlfriend and I to the two ends of the specialty cocktail spectrum at MGM Mirage properties. In case you’re not up on your Vegas corporate knowledge, MGM Mirage owns roughly half the megaresorts on the Las Vegas Strip (Caesar’s Entertainment owns the other half – yes, two companies control nearly the entire Strip). Their newest offering is CityCenter, a 9+ Billion Dollar complex featuring five distinct properties that are decidedly bland by Vegas standards. Anchoring CityCenter is Aria, a 4,004 room resort and, strangely enough, home to CityCenter’s only casino. Overly anxious to end our January detox, and curious to see what $10 Billion gets you these days, we left our modest South Strip digs and trekked up to Aria.
 

Aria at CityCenter Las Vegas. Courtesy of ChrisYunker via Flickr.

The first lounge we encountered, The Deuce, seemed a bit too “ooncha-ooncha” for our taste. The drink menu, however, left us both surprised and encouraged, as it boasted the use of fresh juices and – get this – specialty bitters. Yeah, I even spotted celery bitters on there. Whoa. Someone here either cares about the drinks, or the suits in Marketing noticed the term “bitters” trending higher on Google searches. Regardless, we moved on to City Bar, a more-inviting-yet-still-swanky casino bar situated in the middle of the action. Standing front and center on the bar was a bottle of Peychaud’s and, to its right, Fee Brothers. Whoa, again. My buzz quickly crashed into bewilderment, however, after I noticed the menu’s definition of a Manhattan: Bourbon and Sweet Vermouth. No bitters. What the hell is going on here? I figured it was time for a test.
 

Me: I’d like a Manhattan, but can I get it with Peychaud’s bitters?
Bartender: Sure. Wait, did you say Payshods?
Me: Yeah, Peychaud’s bitters.
Bartender: OK, sure, no problem.

The place was very busy, and I could not see him during the entire process. I did notice him checking the bitters bottles; apparently he didn’t yet know Peychaud’s is the small bottle with the white label. What was delivered to me was very pink. “How much bitters did he put in there,” I wondered. And upon tasting, I discovered he used much. I also found he used the wrong ice in the shaker, as the drink was watered down to children’s strength. I was very disappointed, and the color and the taste didn’t make any sense. My palate was out of shape from the detox month, and this hurdle had me perplexed.
 

Aria's Manhattan. Or Sazerac. Or neither.

“Just what in the hell am I drinking? It’s too bitter, but I knew that from the color. It’s watered down to all hell. It almost tastes like a Sazerac sans absinthe. Wait, it’s not sweet. It’s not sweet at all. Bingo.”

He left out the vermouth. He thought I wanted Peychaud’s in lieu of vermouth. And he used small ice, rendering the final product as flavorless as daytime television programming. Additionally, bitters is used in a number of house cocktails at City Bar, but not the Manhattan. What was it my Little League coach used to preach to me? Fundamentals first. Yes, that’s it. Fundamentals first. Fail.
 

MGM Up
 

The following day we found ourselves meandering further up the strip. We dodged the rain, gambled sporadically, played Drink Arbitrage at the video poker bars, just doing the Vegas thing. Eventually we found ourselves at another MGM property, The Mirage. Twenty years ago, the Mirage was the toast of the town, with its volcano and white tiger shows. It’s still a respected property and, in my opinion, more enjoyable than the $10 Billion behemoth down the Strip. I digress.
 

Upon entry we encountered Rhumbar, a clean and modern lounge specializing in – drumroll please – rum drinks. I’d read some good things about Rhumbar somewhere – I cannot recall where – so it was imperative we check it out. Some prominent features at Rhumbar are a bank of daiquiri machines and beautiful-yet-dingy girls ordering mojitos. These are not necessarily bad things, but I do not find them reassuring either. We pressed on to find an intimidating array of rums. As a self-professed amateur, I must confess I know little about rums. Indeed, I’m still working my way through whiskeys and gins. But I know a Hemingway Daiquiri is a good thing, and upon finding it on the menu, I made sure the bartender put one in my hand in short order.
 

The Latin Manhattan at Rhumbar

You’ll have to forgive me, as I didn’t take good notes here. I cannot elaborate too much on the two drinks I had, except to say they were both delectable. Perhaps a little on the sweet side, but strong and flavorful nonetheless. The Hemingway Daiquiri was delicious, and unlike its ungodly cousins, it did not come from one of those slush machines. My second drink, the Latin Manhattan, was a delight: Rum, vermouth, bitters, maraschino liqueur, and “Caribbean Spices”. I asked the bartender to elaborate on the Caribbean Spices and his response was an unsure, “Uh, Angostura, you know.” Outside of this deer/headlights moment, the experience was overwhelmingly positive. We would have opted for another round, but the sun was still up, and a strong buzz was festering itself upon us.
 

MGM Again?
 

It’s nearly impossible to avoid MGM properties while perusing the Strip, so the Vegas traveler will find him- or herself ordering a drink at these resorts at some point. The $15 price point on City Bar’s Testament to Confusion warrants avoidance for a good while. Rhumbar is worthy of a return, however. Even if the bartenders aren’t cocktail experts, they execute well on good recipes. But to emphasize the obvious, casinos simply aren’t craft cocktail destinations, regardless of their efforts. A shame, considering the strides they’ve made in the restaurant realm. Sorry MGM, but for now, the most luxurious room in Vegas is still at the Four Seasons, and the top destination for craft cocktails remains the Downtown.

Latin Manhattan at Rhumbar, Mirage, Las Vegas. Damn good for a casino.