Stephen F. Austin Hotel. Late.
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I've mentioned previously my affection for a certain piece of writing that explores the ins-and-outs of a well-made cocktail and the appreciation that one should have for such a thing, and have taken the liberty of excerpting a bit of that article below. This will be the final mention of it until we return to New Orleans again next year, so make it last. But before you get to that, indulge me a quick story...
The bar at the Stephen F. Austin hotel served me the first best Negroni I ever had. It was late summer, and we were enjoying the final few moments of calm before a long night out. The wedding of a life-long friend. I was on-hand as groomsman and chief in-house bow tie tier (I don't think I've ever spelled that word.. tier). Ten men... I needed a drink: a Negroni, up. First the barman offered Aperol in lieu of Campari. I bit. When the shaking was finished he took a match to the orange peel to release the citrus. The result was aromatic, with much less pucker factor than I was used to. And that's how I've been making them ever since.
Into an Old-Fashioned glass filled with cracked ice pour 1/3 jigger each of dry gin, Campari bitters, and Italian sweet vermouth. Stir the mixture and add a twist of orange peel. -- courtesy, Gourmet
STEPHEN F. AUSTIN HOTEL
701 Congress Avenue
Austin, TX 78701
512/457-8800
The six key characteristics of a good cocktail...
"First: It 'must whet the appetite, not dull it.' This sounds simple enough but actually disqualifies whole swaths of alcoholic drinks from consideration and leaves us focused on the dry and sour drinks that show off a spirit. Nothing served at a rowdy bar could ever qualify. Nor anything that disguises the taste of the liquor; it would cloy and dull your palate and hardly be the lead in to a decent oyster pan roast and some lamb chops. Embury's focus was on quality not quantity--though he did describe himself as someone who prefers to drink the first too fast and then savor the second. He was, moreover, asserting that the cocktail is a thing of its time and place, holding a key spot in the day's endeavors: after the labor and before the meal. It's a reward, but like a good dinner it takes a bit of effort to prepare.
"Second: A cocktail 'should stimulate the mind as well as the appetite.' Embury understood that cocktails are part of a civilized and contemplative life. You should be able to anticipate your first drink after the day's work and use it to refresh your spirit and relax your mind. It should awaken senses dulled at the office and by the speed and distances of contemporary life. It should move you from the determined needs of a workday to a thoughtful consideration of the better and more charming aspects of living and talking and reading. Anticipation should not be underrated as an aspect of any aesthetic experience. It is as essential to a cocktail as it is to a good production of Cymbeline or Don Carlos or a cassoulet.
"Third: A cocktail 'must be pleasing to the palate.' By this, Embury meant a drink that is dry with all of the flavors balanced. You should be able to sense every ingredient in a well-made cocktail. Some of it might be elusive, but it is there in some definable sense. When you add one or two drops of absinthe to a Corpse Reviver No. 2, you are adding a defining flavor. You cannot leave it out without changing the drink into something else.
"Fourth: A cocktail 'must be pleasing to the eye.' This is an underrated virtue. At a many-starred hotel, I was recently brought a rather good Negroni in a brown-tinted old-fashioned glass. It came close to ruining the moment. The bright red color is one of the pleasures of this masterpiece, shining out from an up glass close to one's right hand. Bringing a tray of four Pegu Clubs to your coffee table will liven up your guests, setting everyone to considering the drinks and their color. Like wrapped packages and Christmas crackers, well-presented cocktails add festivity to an occasion. One trouble is that old saw about shaken versus stirred. James Bond has no idea what he is talking about. Nobody wants a shaken Martini, which is a cloudy drink when a Martini should be absolutely clear. Stir it with a long spoon until it is rabidly cold. Shaken or stirred is a debate about how a drink should look, not how it should taste. Any drink with fruit juice in it will be cloudy, so shake away--shaking being the most efficient method of chilling. If your drink has any hope of being clear: stir. And anyone who mentions the concept of bruising alcohol should be offered a beer to drink.
"Fifth: A cocktail 'must have sufficient alcoholic flavor.' Even the simplest of cocktails like a vermouth cassis must taste of alcohol. If you don't like the taste of the stuff, drink soda water. There's nothing else to say. Drinks that don't taste of alcohol were developed for coeds and the saps who try to get them drunk. There are cocktails for every palate, and every cocktail is adjustable. If you don't like bitter herbs, make a Negroni with simple syrup substituted for a quarter of the Campari. A cocktail tailored to your palate will still taste wonderfully of the alcohol. A cocktail that does not taste of its alcohol is likely something disreputable.
"Finally: A cocktail 'must be well-iced.' This rules out most of the drinks you can get in American restaurants, as they are too large. A cocktail is about four ounces, and today's Martini is six, maybe even eight. It's warm before you can contemplate its measure. The chill is essential. Cocktails do not open up like wine, they just get warm. Plan on more than one round and consider steps like chilling your shaker and making ice cubes from distilled water. (Better ice is an overlooked way to improve cocktails--it's a lot like making your own stock and pie crusts.) But regardless, serving smaller drinks at colder temperatures is as essential as not overcooking the trout."


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