I recently acquired some apricot brandy and have been on the lookout for cocktails that used it. The first few attempts haven’t been worth the time but the Golden Dawn is kind of fun. Most recipes call for Calvados (an apple brandy, of which I have no real substitutes) but it’s also sometimes made without. Given what I have on hand, I mucked about with it a bit and here’s how I’ve been serving them.

Some folks garnish with an orange slice or cherry, but I prefer without. This is a simple drink, I’d love to try it with an apple brandy to see if it’s a little more complex and interesting, but as is it’s refreshing, sweet but not terribly so and visually kind of fun. Besides, it’s a rare excuse to use that homemade grenadine.

Frankly, I’m a little hesitant to post this at all. The topic of making a “shaken vs. stirred” martini has been covered in loving detail by Robert Hess who has long been one of my favorite online cocktail explorers. He even talks about “bruising” the gin in it.

However, I have done a little firsthand research over the years, and I’d sum it up as:

1. To “bruise” the gin is a lovely phrase for the results of shaking instead of stirring a gin-based cocktail, usually a martini.
2. While the phrase it lovely, it doesn’t really mean much. To whit:
   1. There is some claim that juniper berries are delicate and, since they’re a prominent ingredient in gin, rigorous shaking causes them damage. If you are ever served gin with juniper berries floating in it, this is a valid concern. Otherwise it’s a delightful delusion.
   2. By shaking you break off more ice into the martini than by stirring, thereby altering the flavor. This actually is kind of true in that shaking adds more ice, and therefore more dilution, per second than stirring. Unfortunately, you probably stir for longer to achieve the same cooling of the gin. I’ve tried and I can’t taste the difference, and I’ve never seen anything other than anecdotes to say anyone else can.
   3. By shaking the gin you add air bubbles which changes the taste (since they get in the way of the martini hitting the tongue). Again, the general consensus is that this just isn’t the case. Now the air bubbles do have one positive effect: it increases the antioxidants thereby making the drink healthier. I have no argument for this save an incredible respect for the University of Western Ontario.
3. There is probably no taste reason to avoid shaking a martini. There may or may not be a difference in the texture of a shaken versus stirred martini (many of us have, after the second or third martini, sworn that stirred sits heavier on the tongue. It’s possible we were inebriated.) but assuming there isn’t, then why do all the martini snobs want their martini’s stirred? Because it looks better. Bubbles in a martini (or a delicious manhattan) look amateur and certainly don’t signify the dignity and pure, liver-destructing power that the majestic drink deserves. And if you’re not paying attention to the presentation of cocktails, you’re missing half the fun.

So, if you’re making me a martini, please don’t bruise the gin.

You might try trimming down the vermouths a bit if they’re coming across too strong. What I have is a cross between Dr. Cocktail’s and Drinkboy’s versions. Drinkboy cuts the vermouth to 1/4oz each and lightens up on the gin by a hair. I had a big orange, and enjoyed the proportions above. Orange is the first flavor that comes across, which is fun in a cocktail. The other ingredients come out shortly after and all in all it’s a very enjoyable and drinkable cocktail.

As a quick aside, some folks substitute Benedictine instead of the Pernod (I think this was started when Absinthe fell out of favor).

Almost as fun as drinking the cocktail is the history behind the name of this one. “Monkey Gland” derives its name from Serge Voronoff’s 1920′s-1930′s habit of grafting monkey testicle tissue on to humans. The original claim was that this process would be rejuvenating for the entire body of the patient, although most patients were old rich men hoping for rejuvenation of just one organ. It was all the rage in France for a while, and originally started with using tissue from executed criminals but there just wasn’t enough supply to, ah, keep up with demand. An odd twist on this is that in the 1999 it was speculated that this procedure perhaps introduced HIV to humans.

While this is all great, the real kicker for me was what this all inspired. In addition to a cocktail, the process was incorporated into such songs as Billy Meyer’s Made a Monkey Out of Me. The last few lines of which are:

Understand
It was a monkey gland
That made a monkey out of me

Which of course immediately had me singing the Simpson’s Chimpan-A to Chimpan-Z from their Planet of the Apes spoof. The song nears its end with Troy McClure exclaiming, “Yes, you’ve finally made a monkey out of me!”

The Monkey Gland, folks. Drink up and enjoy.

That’s right, I said an olive. You’ll see recipes that call for a cherry, which was far less brain-bending to my mind, but this drink is all about the olive. Because, my friends, the Bijou Cocktail is a strange and delightful journey. The chartreuse is certainly present, as is the vermouth, as is the citrus, as is the olive. It’s like you invited one friend from each of your very different social circles, and now their all hanging out in your mouth having a delightful time.

Green Chartreuse is one of those things I’ve had around for years, and I’m always happy to find an excuse to use it. If you have some in your cabinet, then this is worth giving a shot. It’s certainly not something I’d have two of in one sitting, but I’ll be returning to it again soon. The only ingredient I didn’t taste in this was the gin, although I used Plymouth. I’m quite curious to try it again with something a little more aggressive, perhaps Junipero.

UPDATE: The Junipero was, in fact, a terrible idea. Plymouth gin is delightful, as is Beefeater. Christy finds the drink interesting as well, although probably wouldn’t make it through a whole one.

Which brings us to maraschino liqueur. If you haven’t before, it’s worth trying but it really doesn’t taste anything like those bright red “cherries” in a jar. There is some cherry flavor, but it’s subtle, and the liqueur is a clear syrup. It’s powerful stuff, which is why I tend to recommend it in moderation.

Now, a couple of notes:

1. use a dry gin. Sapphire works just fine, and I actually like it better than Plymouth in this case. Save the aromatic gins for a martini, the maraschino is just going to fight with them.
2. Go easy on the maraschino and lemon juice. I see both of those increased in some recipes, and I think they just take over at that point. The lemon juice should be softening and complementing the maraschino liqueur, but not a huge presence on its own. The maraschino liqueur, at least the Luxardo that I have, is powerful stuff. It can easily take over your drink, which really isn’t the point.

Note that the above is me breaking a few rules. For one thing, that’s Magellan gin, which looks pretty cool but doesn’t work very well here. Since it works so fabulously in a martini, save it for that. Also, I added a lemon twist, which again isn’t as good as the original recipe’s call for a cherry.

Depending on my mood, I often mix a classic one (in which case serve in a cocktail glass), but if I want something for relaxing while reading a book, I go for the recipe above and maybe add a couple of ice cubes. Some serve it over ice with a little soda water, and lots of folks add a slice of orange (half a wheel) and/or some orange bitters. Play around and find what you like!

Update: this picture is now in use by Wikipedia’s entry on the Negroni!

Oh, and that first taste? Yeah, you may (re: probably) won’t like it. Stick with it, you might just end up with a pink drink you can order with pride!

Some people drink it with the gin warm, the thought of which always makes my skin crawl. Also, it’s common to prepare by coating the glass (sometimes shot glass) in bitters and dumping out the extra instead of adding it directly in. Just a little variation makes a noticeable difference, so it’s worth the delight of experimenting to find your optimal proportions.

The Pink Gin has a proud history. I’ve read various accounts, all of which seem to match Wikipedia’s note: “Pink gin is a typically English way of enjoying gin. It was made popular worldwide by members of the Royal Navy, where it rose to prominence because the Angostura bitters were a cure for seasickness.”

Incidentally, does anyone know of a good place to buy spirits in San Diego? BevMo is ok, but they’re sometimes too much of a chain to carry the really good stuff.

Pegu

• 2 ounces gin
• 1 ounce orange curaçao
• 1 teaspoon lime juice
• 1 dash Angostura bitters
• 1 dash orange bitters

Found at The DrinkBoyChannel. He describes it thusly:

Originally the specialty cocktail of the Pegu Club in Burma during the early 1900′s

This drink has unfortunately fallen on tough times, and it is difficult, if not impossible, to find a bartender who knows how to make one, much less has heard of it. It is however a wonderful drink, and well worth re-discovery. When properly made, it should have a bit of a citrus backbone, around which the Angostura and orange bitters are providing some interesting spice. The gin itself is just barely noticeable, making it a great drink for somebody who may not normally tend towards gin based libations. Its overall profile is one of complex but approachable flavors.

Give one a try, and you’ll see why this is on my shortlist of favorite cocktails.

I haven’t tried this, yet but am putting it here as a reminder to do so.

“For those who are still with me, let me give you my personal recipe, the fruit of long experimentation and guaranteed to produce perfect results. The day before your guests arrive, put all the ingredients – glasses, gin, and shaker – in the refrigerator. Use a thermometer to make sure the ice is about twenty degrees below zero (centigrade). Don’t take anything out until your friends arrive; then pour a few drops of Noilly Prat and half a demitasse spoon of Angostura bitters over the ice. Shake it, then pour it out, leaving only the ice, which retains a faint taste of both. Then pour straight gin over the ice, shake it again, and serve.”
- My Last Sign (1983)