Shaken, Stirred and Pith on the Peel: Two Books Celebrate the Art of the Great Cocktail
NEW YORK (TheStreet) -- The cocktail was an essential part of my grandfather's daily existence. After finishing work at his store, Weaver's Automotive Parts in DuBois, Pa., Mac would have a Martini, either at home or with his drinking buddies at their favorite downtown restaurant. When my mother, my sister and I were in DuBois, Mac ducked into the wet bar in his dining room and made a small pitcher of Martinis for himself, a pitcher of Manhattans for my mother, a Shirley Temple for Lauren and a Roy Rodgers for me. (This was the 1970s; traditional gender roles were assumed.) He drank the first Martini while reading The Wall Street Journal, munching on Planter's mixed nuts and engaging in conversation. The second Martini, called the dividend and diluted by an hour's worth of melted ice, buffered the transition from happy hour to dinner.
The cocktail as my grandfather knew it has been completely reimagined. Bartenders around the world devote themselves to making ever more sophisticated drinks and serving them in beautifully designed spaces where the beverages are only one aspect of an all-encompassing experience.
This fall, two of the country's best cocktail bars are publishing books that tell their stories and include hundreds of recipes. The tomes seem unlikely to inspire much imitation by amateur mixologists; were Mac Weaver alive today, he would probably not whip up an Angelus, an interpretation of the Martini favored at the Dead Rabbit Grog and Grocery that includes gum syrup, Pernod Absinthe, orange bitters, and a little Bittermens Amere Nouvelle, though my grandfather would no doubt enjoy the concoction. But the books from the Dead Rabbit and the Nomad Bar are worth reading for their detailed explanation of how much thought, effort and work go into making a world-class bar.
The Dead Rabbit story is famous in cocktail circles, but the details are still astonishing. Sean Muldoon grew up in a Catholic working class neighborhood in Belfast and tended bar in the city during the violent 1990s. On New Year's Eve in 1997, Muldoon was having dinner with his fiancé at a restaurant in the city when gunman entered his bar and opened fire, killing two men and wounding four others.
Unsettled by the experience, Muldoon quit a few months later and went to work for a higher-end bar in Belfast, where he began honing his craft. In 2002, he started running his own bars, and built the one at Belfast's Merchant Hotel into one of the best and most prominent in the world. Along the way, he hired a young man named Jack McGarry, who was as obsessive about mixology as Muldoon.
In the winter 2013, just a few months after Hurricane Sandy had hit New York, they opened The Dead Rabbit on Water Street in downtown Manhattan. The bar takes its name from the a gang of Irish and Irish-American men active in New York in the 1850s, and its ambience and drinks aim to evoke the period. McGarry and Muldoon looked to 19th century cocktail recipes for inspiration, which they explain in detail before each drink recipe.
The two men favor a "rococo maximalist style," and their recipes are often riotously creative. Consider their Morning Reviver, which includes a shot of Jameson Irish Whiskey infused with green tea (steep two bags in a bottle of Jameson for an hour), or the Massagrand, which was inspired by the Café Brûlot still served at Galatoire's and other classic Creole restaurants in New Orleans. The Massagrand incorporates a housemade Calamus tincture, some bitters, a shot of coffee, a shot of Cognac, and a half-ounce each of three eaux de vie. If you're the kind of person who would regularly make drinks like these at home, you're probably already working in a bar.
The dazzled, dazed reader is relieved to encounter an easily replicated recipe for Irish coffee at the end of the book: A half-ounce of brown sugar syrup, a shot of Powers Gold Label Irish Whiskey, four ounces of coffee, and whipped cream on top. It's a delicious drink, I can personally attest.
Bars such as The Dead Rabbit have had a profound effect on the hospitality industry. Not only have imitators sprung up all over the country; high-end restaurants and hotels now feel the need to have beverage programs that are as ambitious as their wine lists and food offerings. This fall, Leo Robitschek published the Nomad Cocktail Book within the Nomad Cookbook, a new title from the New York restaurant's chef Daniel Humm and the restaurant's co-owner Will Guidara.
Robitschek writes that he gives an 82-page manual to all new NoMad bartenders, which suggest just how challenging the job is. The NoMad has 50 cocktails on its menu at any given time, and bartenders must know how to make all of those, not to mention classic cocktails, under intense time pressure. To survive the onslaught, Robitschek's team does the same kind of prep work as a kitchen staff by incorporating flavors into syrups, squeezing fresh juices and cutting citrus twists before the bar's service starts.
The attention to detail is meticulous; Robitschek writes that his staff uses a paring knife to make the citrus twists in order to keep a little pith on the peel and so extend its life by several hours. He explains why the bar uses three kinds of ice, ice being as important to a bartender as rice is to a sushi chef. As in the Dead Rabbit book, there are hundreds of cocktail recipes, though Robitschek also offers a handful of tempting non-alcoholic cocktails, such as the Gotham Parksider, which includes an egg, a half-ounce of maple syrup, and two ounces of green tea, or the La Piña, a virgin piña colada that features a Jalapeño-infused agave syrup, recipes that highlight the symbiotic relationship between the bar and the kitchen at NoMad.
Like chefs, mixologists think in complex terms about composing their drinks. They seek out ingredients from all over the world and create their own when necessary. My grandfather's classic Martini is like a great steak; it will always have a place in the cocktail. But McGarry, Muldoon, Robitschek and their ilk have expanded the possibilities of the genre.