Sazerac

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I’ll admit it, I love a good, thoughtful cocktail. Back in the day— and I’m referring to the days I was barely old enough to drink, and then wasn’t, because legal age changed in New York State  during my young adult years— I would belly up to the bar and order something that my current self would recognize as disgusting. Something like an Alabama Slammer, which is a sickeningly sweet bar drink with one primary goal— getting you rip-roaring drunk in as short a time as possible. Bleh.

Today, my grown-up self wants a sipping drink, one that tells a story, and this story is set in New Orleans. The rest of the story’s details are, well, a little sketchy.

Meet the Sazerac. Official drink of New Orleans, and perfectly apropos for Mardi Gras!

Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Walk into any respectable cocktail bar in New Orleans, and you might learn that the Sazerac was originally crafted there in 1838 by an apothecary (old-fashioned term for pharmacist) named Antoine Peychaud. The tale might include reference to a concoction he stirred up for medicinal purposes (also my favorite excuse), using his favorite French cognac (Sazerac de Forge et fils) and his own tincture made from gentian bark and other botanicals. A bartender across town, however, might claim that the drink was created 20 years later in a New Orleans coffee house, and it included pre-rinsing the glass with absinthe, a French liqueur that was banned half a century later for being “hallucinogenic.” Yet another barkeep might tell you with great conviction that this drink is much older than both of those versions, with written recipes as far back as 1806.

The truth may lie somewhere in the middle— whatever that means— and if you want to get technical about it, the Sazerac only became the “official” cocktail of New Orleans on June 23, 2008. Thank God the internet was around by then, so we at least have record of that much! 

However the drink originated, the French-rooted Sazerac has been Americanized in several ways, and none of them bad. The cognac was eventually replaced with American rye whiskey, which brings a terrific spice to the cocktail. There is even a rye named Sazerac today, presumably so that it would be considered “official” for this cocktail. Peychaud’s bitters lend a vibrant red color and herbal flavors, and Herbsaint, an herbal liqueur that plays understudy to absinthe but actually is not as easy to find as modern-day absinthe, gives the drink an air of intoxicating mystery (as if it needs any more of that).

All these details make my head spin a little bit, and that brings me back to the Sazerac I’m sharing today for Mardi Gras. Having only been to New Orleans in my dreams (at least, so far), my experience of the Sazerac is limited to having enjoyed it in other places, and most recently in a swanky steakhouse bar in Virginia. I like that the Sazerac is strong, bold and definitely meant for sipping more than drinking. My only personal preference is for it to be a bit colder, given that it is typically not served on ice. For my version, I have chosen to marry the old Sazerac story with the new, by keeping a touch of French cognac in the background of spicy American rye whiskey. Peychaud’s bitters are easy to find wherever quality cocktail ingredients are sold, and I reverted back to absinthe for rinsing my glass. There’s a sugar cube involved, too, or you can sub in a bar spoon full of caster sugar or even simple syrup if you have it.

Whew. That’s a lot of information! Who’s ready for a cocktail??

The Peychaud’s bitters lend a rosy color to the Sazerac.

The first step is chilling down the double rocks glass that you’ll serve the drink in. A Sazerac traditionally is not served on rocks, so getting the glass cold is a must. Fill it with ice while you gather up the rest of your ingredients— rye, cognac (if you wish), Peychaud’s, a bit of sugar and absinthe. Muddle the sugar with bitters in a cocktail mixing glass. Add the rye (and cognac, if using) and stir to blend with the sugar-Peychaud’s mixture.

Mixing with ice is decidedly not traditional, but it suits my taste.

I like my drinks nice and cold, so I tossed some ice into the mixing glass for a few spins, though this is not traditional. I considered (for about one second) using an absinthe that my husband’s son, Alex, brought home from his travels in Europe, but this stuff is 184 proof and I feared that it might melt my liver. Whew, I had no idea something this strong even existed!

Those yesteryear claims of absinthe having hallucinogenic properties probably had more to do with the crazy high alcohol content. Rather than risk it, I went with a lesser proof absinthe that I picked up at our state-run liquor store. Same flavor— very potent, medicinal and licorice-like, almost like Formula 44 cough syrup, if you remember that stuff. Now, before you get grossed out at that reference and vow to never try a Sazerac, please consider that it’s a miniscule amount of absinthe that ends up in the cocktail because it is only used to rinse the glass before the mixed drink is poured into it. Nobody would drink Worcestershire sauce either, but a touch of it in a recipe makes a world of difference. I’m just saying.

Here’s how to do the rinse: empty the ice from the rocks glass and swirl about a tablespoon of absinthe into it— tip the glass every which way to ensure that it touches up the sides, and then empty it out. Strain the drink into the glass and garnish.

The lemon strip that usually accompanies the Sazerac is meant to entice rather than flavor, so don’t squeeze or drop it into the cocktail glass. I used a peeler to strip two thin pieces of lemon peel— one is strictly for expressing over the glass (and nobody would mind if you swiped it around the rim), and the other is trimmed and slit so it can be perched like a flame on the edge of the glass.

Fancy flame not required. You can garnish the drink with a straight lemon peel, just don’t drop it into the glass.

Sazerac

  • Servings: 1 serious cocktail
  • Difficulty: Big Easy
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Though its exact origin is still the subject of heated debate, this strong drink is undisputedly the official cocktail of New Orleans. Enjoy one for Mardi Gras!


Ingredients

  • 2 oz. rye whiskey (or bourbon, if you prefer a softer drink)
  • 1/2 oz. French cognac
  • 1 sugar cube (or 1 tsp. superfine sugar or 2 tsp. simple syrup)
  • 3 generous dashes Peychaud’s bitters
  • 1/4 oz. absinthe (for glass rinse)
  • 1 wide strip lemon peel for garnish

Directions

  1. Chill double rocks glass with ice, or place in freezer.
  2. Drop sugar cube into mixing glass. Add bitters and use a muddler to crush and dissolve the sugar.
  3. Add rye whiskey and cognac to mixing glass and stir to combine.
  4. Empty ice from cocktail glass. Pour absinthe into glass and swirl it around to rinse the inside. Pour out excess absinthe.
  5. Pour cocktail into chilled, rinsed glass. Express lemon peel over the top of the drink, but do not drop it into the glass. Rest it on top edge of the glass, or create a “flame” by trimming the ragged sides of the peel and cutting a long slit into the middle of it. Position the lemon flame onto the edge of the glass.

Pompatus of Love

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We have enjoyed this peachy bourbon cocktail at our house all summer, ever since I first made the peach shrub. What’s that—you say peaches don’t grow on shrubs? True. The peach “shrub” that I speak of is an old-school concoction, otherwise known as a “drinking vinegar,” and though it was a popular way of preserving seasonal fruits back in Colonial times (or as far back as the Roman Empire, depending on whom you ask), the shrub is having a new moment, especially in the world of craft cocktails.

A shrub is a mixture of fruit, sugar and vinegar, usually in equal parts. You can either cook the fruit together with the sugar before adding the vinegar, which results in a jammy, compote-type flavor, or go the fresh route with raw fruit, which takes longer to develop but presents a more vibrant flavor in the shrub. I chose the latter, with enough cut-up peaches to measure a heaping cup. I stirred in a cup of raw turbinado sugar and left it in the fridge about 24 hours.

The second day, I strained the syrupy, macerated fruit (we put the chunky remains on top of vanilla ice cream) and mixed the liquid with a cup of vinegar—half apple cider (raw, with the “mother”) and half white wine.

My peach shrub was strong, tart and a little too “in your face” for the first couple of days, but after a week in the fridge, it had mellowed to become quite enjoyable in this cocktail, and even more so as the weeks have passed. The other ingredients in this drink are bottled-in-bond bourbon (this one has a very low percentage of rye in the mash bill, so definitely choose one on the sweet side), a fresh chunk of muddled peach and a couple of shakes of bitters. I like the ginger bitters, but if you can find peach bitters, they’re nice, too.

This is a bottled-in-bond bourbon from one of our local distilleries.
It’s mostly corn, and only a slight amount of rye, so it’s nice and sweet.

There’s one more thing that makes this cocktail special, and you’d probably never guess—it’s salt. You heard me. I’ve been experimenting with the concept to further balance a cocktail, and it is a pretty amazing thing. We bought this Himalayan pink salt swizzle stick back in February when we visited Asheville Salt cave, and as it turns out, a slight touch of this special salt brings this drink together, the same way a pinch of salt makes a dessert taste better. The things we learn!

By pouring the strained drink over the edge of the salt bar, you only get a hint of the salt. So good!

We have tried several iterations of this libation over the summer, including an infusion of thyme in the peach shrub, minted sugar on the rim of the glass, on the rocks, and up in a Nick and Nora glass, etc. My favorite is simple and straightforward—bourbon and muddled peach, shrub, ginger bitters, no sugar rim, poured over the salt swizzle stick on a giant ice cube, and keep ‘em coming.

I decided to call this cocktail “Pompatus of Love.”

Muddle a chunk of fresh peach, cover with huge ice cube
Measure 2 oz. bourbon in a mixing glass or shaker
Add 1/2 oz. shaken peach shrub
Two shakes of bitters, then add ice and stir
Strain over Himalayan swizzle stick onto big ice cube.
Pompatus of Love.

Now, I won’t make you wrack your brain to figure out why the name sounds familiar to you—it comes from the 1970s classic rock song, “The Joker,” by the Steve Miller Band. You know, right after he sings, “some people call me Maurice.” What you might not know is that the word pompatus is not really a word at all, but something that Miller misheard from a doo-wop song released two decades earlier. I’ll let you explore that on your own time with the help of Google and Wikipedia, because it is a story in itself.

And since you’ve already heard the Steve Miller version of the song at least as many times as I have, I’d like to introduce you to one of our favorite local artists who performs a terrific rendition of this song. Please click to play, while I tell you a little bit more about this peachy bourbon drink, and about our friendship with Colin Allured, the artist featured here.

If you love this, subscribe to Colin’s YouTube channel. He has plenty more where this came from.

I first met Colin almost 8 years ago, when he debuted his one-man act at a wine bar that I frequented. He mesmerized the entire room on that December night, even drawing the kitchen staff out to the front of house to see who was this guy, covering the vocals of everyone from Steve Miller to The Beatles to Justin Timberlake to Katy Perry—as well as plenty of his own (awesome) original music. From that night, I hardly missed an appearance by Colin at the wine bar or anywhere else, and Les quickly caught on as well when we began dating. Fast forward a few years, when Les conspired with Colin to play a very special song for us on an evening we had planned to celebrate my birthday—I say they “conspired” because the night took on a whole new meaning after Colin dedicated the song to us. That’s when Les popped the question and put a ring on my finger. Since then, we have followed our friend around to many venues, including the show where he recorded that version of “The Joker,” and I have no doubt that he will always be a part of our love story, in some way or another.

So what does all of this romance nonsense have to do with this bourbon cocktail, based on a peach shrub?

I named this drink Pompatus of Love because, to me, it embodies a little bit of everything that makes a romantic love relationship great. It’s intoxicating, just sweet enough, a bit tart and sassy, and slightly salty in a way that is unexpectedly addictive. As one of our July 4th weekend guests put it, “the first sip surprised me, but it’s growing on me.”

Yep. That’s the pompatus of love.

Really love your peaches, wanna shake your shrub.
Lovey dovey, lovey dovey all the time.

Pompatus of Love

  • Servings: 2 cocktails
  • Difficulty: easy
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This perfect marriage of bourbon and peaches is made even better with a splash of peach shrub, an old school “drinking vinegar” that’s made with fresh peaches, sugar and vinegar. Plan to make the shrub about a week ahead for best results. I like these best on a large ice cube in a double rocks glass, but it can also be shaken and strained into a chilled coupe glass if you’re feeling fancy.

Ingredients

  • 1 small, fresh peach (for muddling)
  • 4 oz. bourbon (use a high-proof, low rye version if possible)
  • 1 oz. peach shrub* (see below)
  • 2 quick shakes ginger (or peach) bitters
  • large ice cubes for serving

Directions

  1. Place a chunk of peach (about the size of a walnut) into each rocks glass. Crush it with a cocktail muddler or the handle end of a wooden spoon. Place a large ice cube over the peach.
  2. In a cocktail mixing glass or shaker, combine bourbon, shrub and bitters. Add one cup of ice and stir or shake until the mixing vessel is frosty.
  3. Strain into glasses, garnish with slices of the peach.

For the Shrub: choose very ripe peaches, and don’t worry if they have bruises or dark spots. This is a great way to use peaches that are a little “past their prime.” The shrub will be quite intense for the first few days after making, but it mellows after about a week and is lovely in cocktails, or put an ounce in a glass with ice and top it with sparking water for a zero-proof summer treat!

Ingredients

  • 3 or 4 ripe peaches, washed
  • 1 cup raw cane turbinado sugar (white or light brown sugar works, too)
  • 1/2 cup raw, unfiltered apple cider vinegar (such as Bragg’s)
  • 1/2 cup white wine vinegar

Directions

  1. Peel and pit the peaches, and cut them up into chunks.
  2. In a medium bowl (choose one that has a fitted lid), combine the peaches and sugar, stirring until it begins to get syrupy. Cover and macerate in the fridge 24 hours.
  3. Strain peaches through a mesh sieve, catching the liquid in a bowl below. Discard the peach solids, or use them right away in some other dish.
  4. Stir the vinegars into the sweet peach syrup. Transfer to a sealable glass bottle and refrigerate up to 3 months.

The Cool Jerk

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Just before Christmas last year, my husband and I took a trip to the Washington D.C. area for a concert and a weekend away from home—just a getaway kind of thing. My, how things have changed. During our visit there, we stumbled upon a bourbon cocktail that used a special kind of chocolate bitters, and we couldn’t stop thinking about how to re-create that drink at home (if only we could figure out where in the world to get chocolate bitters). Thanks to our high-speed internet connection and a quick scan of the credit card, I placed an order and our fab cocktail experiment was about to begin. A funny thing happened, though.

Along the way to finding the chocolate bitters, I inadvertently uncovered an entire world of cocktail ingredients that I barely imagined existed. I’m always 100% in favor of trying something new—especially in my glass—and lately my cocktail game is like a game of roulette. With a steady schedule of FaceTime happy hours with friends and family around the globe, we have plenty of opportunities to play with drink recipes. And, to be honest, there’s a bit of vanity in me when it comes to choosing our drink du jour. After the obligatory back-and-forth of “can you guys hear us?” and “how do we make this full-screen?” I live for the moment when we clink glasses at the screen. And in that moment, my Leo nature wants to be asked, “Whoa—whatcha drinkin’?” No, this lioness will not be caught dead with a boring drink.

I’m having my own personal cocktail awakening and finding it crazy fun to tinker with new spirits and mixers—especially infused simple syrups and so many unusual cocktail bitters. Thankfully, my husband, Les, is a willing participant for this journey (well, unless it’s gin). Buckle up for a crash course on what I’ve learned so far.

What are bitters?

Cocktail bitters are a blend of various roots and herbs, usually preserved in a high-proof neutral grain alcohol and sometimes spiked with fruit and spice flavors. They are used in very small amount—a “dash” of bitters is only a quick couple of shakes or drops from the bottle, which has a special top to prevent overpouring. These blends are extremely concentrated, so a little goes a long way. To compare it with something familiar, bitters are kind of like vanilla extract—but with more than one flavor because of all the components in them.

Do bitters make your drink taste bitter?

Not really, but they do bring depth and character to an otherwise predictable drink. Most bitters tend to have an underlying “key” flavor, such as orange or anise, but others may be highly complex—for example, Angostura’s brand of “aromatic” bitters carries notes of juniper berry, cinnamon, orange zest, clove and even cocoa. But you don’t taste all of those things individually. The combination just makes your drink taste more interesting, without losing the character of the spirit ingredient. Kind of like the horn section in a really great song.

What is a simple syrup?

A simple syrup is generally a blend of equal parts sugar and water, boiled just enough to dissolve the sugar and perhaps steeped with other ingredients to add flavors. It’s the easiest way to add a splash of sweet to a cocktail, or even to sweeten up a glass of iced tea because sugar on its own doesn’t blend well in cold liquids. I’ve found it easy to infuse a syrup with just about anything—fresh herbs, hot peppers, citrus peel and even tea bags. It gives me a vehicle to add all kinds of flavor to a cocktail without watering it down. A thin simple syrup would have higher ratio of water to sugar, and a rich simple syrup would be the opposite—more sugar and less water. Don’t feel limited to plain sugar, either—you can make simple syrup from brown or coconut sugar, honey or even maple syrup. Go wild with it!

Are bitters the same as mixers?

No, but some mixers have bitters blended in them. I recently purchased a product called “Proof Syrup,” in a maple bacon flavor (it sounds more incredible than it was), and one of the key components in the syrup was bacon-infused bitters. Mixers are generally used in greater proportion, equal to or slightly less than the spirit ingredient. With bitters alone, easy does it or they overpower the drink.

Where do you buy bitters?

This is the million-dollar question I keep asking myself, and these days, I skip the brick-and-mortar and go directly to online retailers. The garden varieties—aromatic and orange bitters—are widely available in supermarkets in the cocktail mixers section. But if you want to find something exotic or out of the ordinary, such as rhubarb, celery or black walnut bitters, online is the way to go. I’d recommend starting here at AwesomeDrinks.com because they have a good selection from a variety of brands. This is the same site where I bought my Nick and Nora cocktail glasses for the Sassy Comeback cocktail that still visits my dreams.

How many flavors of bitters are there?

Heaven only knows! I spent a good hour narrowing my choices from the online store mentioned above, and I am quite sure I’ll go back for more. Here’s what I purchased most recently:

Fee Brothers’ Cherry Bitters, because Les is wild about cherries. It’s great in bourbon drinks, which is also his new favorite.

I went a little crazy for the selection of Scrappy’s Bitters, purchasing both the cardamom and lavender bitters. The cardamom is intense, but delicious in a most exotic way. I like it with a small batch pear-infused rye produced by one of our local distillers. The lavender? Well, let’s just say I’m still trying to figure out how to further reduce the amount I use because even one drop in a gin drink makes me feel like I just licked a bar of Grandma’s fancy soap. I’m open to suggestions.

Aromaticus bitteris. Now, that’s funny.

Finally, there’s these Bitter End Jamaican Jerk Bitters, because the idea of spices and heat in my drink is pretty much sending me head over heels. Honestly, everything Jamaican jerk is dialing my number right now (perhaps you’ve noticed with these pizzas and this stuffed pepper recipe), so I’ve been working on new ways to get this flavor into my life.

And that brings us full circle to this cocktail, which I’ve named the “Cool Jerk.”

Back in another decade, when I wore pinstriped jeans and big permed hair, it was “cool” to have a fuzzy navel, Alabama slammer or some sweet frothy rum drink with an umbrella, basically the only drinks I knew how to order. But I’m all grown up now and so is this drink. It’s still fruity and tropical, but there’s complex spice instead of just sweet. Rather, it leans toward the sophisticated side of things, especially in a crystal cut, double rocks glass.

There was never a doubt which spirit I’d use—it had to be Jamaican-born Appleton Estate rum, smooth and lightly sweet, with hints of warm spice. I was fortunate enough to visit Jamaica in the late ‘90s, and a full bottle of this rum smuggled itself into my bag for the plane ride home (remember when we could put more than 4 oz. of liquid in our carry-on)?

Lime is the only citrus juice to use with rum (think daiquiri or mojito), and I’ve used a combination of two simple syrups to bring it back into balance—a jalapeno syrup (which is frankly still rocking my world after the pineapple jalapeno ice cream) and the same lemon-ginger syrup I debuted with the Sassy Comeback drink.

The Jamaican jerk bitters are hitting all the right spice buttons, with nutmeg, quassia (a bitter wood native to the Caribbean and parts of South America), habanero, cinnamon, allspice and thyme. The bitters are labeled “extremely spicy” (and I’m quite sure they would be if we took a swig from the bottle), but the little bit we are putting in the drink is not going to set you ablaze. For us, it feels like a perfect balance, about a 3 on a 1-10 spicy scale.

Feeling adventurous?

To make this drink, you’ll need a cocktail mixing glass and spoon, measuring jigger and some big-as-your-face ice cubes. Garnish it with a slice of lime or, if you’re lucky enough to have some leftover from the Jerk pizzas, a wedge of grilled pineapple. This recipe will make 2 generous cocktails.

“Cheers!”

Ingredients

4 oz. Appleton Estate rum

1.5 oz. lemon-ginger simple syrup (recipe below)

.5 oz. jalapeno simple syrup (also below)

Juice of 1 lime, freshly squeezed*

8 drops Jamaican jerk bitters

*Notes

I hate fussing over the garnish for a drink, so here’s how I saved time on our second round of this one. I cut the lime in half, then stole a slice for garnish from the middle before squeezing the halves into the cocktail mixing glass. Done.

Combine the rum, syrups, lime juice and bitters. Add regular ice cubes and stir for 20 seconds, until the mixing glass looks frosty. Strain over giant cubes into double old-fashioned glasses and garnish with slices of lime.

Lemon-ginger Simple Syrup:

Bring 1 cup water to a light boil, then turn off heat. Steep 4 lemon-ginger herbal tea bags in the hot water for about 2 minutes, then remove and squeeze the tea bags (discard them). Add 1 cup sugar to the hot tea blend, and stir until dissolved (return to heat a few minutes, if necessary). Cool completely, then pour into a covered jar. It will keep in the fridge a couple of weeks. For this syrup, I use Bigelow brand lemon-ginger tea.

Jalapeno Simple Syrup:

Bring 1 cup filtered water and 1 cup sugar to a light boil over medium heat until sugar is dissolved and syrup begins to lightly boil at the edges. Add 2 small chopped jalapeno peppers and stir, cooking about 2 minutes at low heat. Turn off heat, cool completely, strain jalapenos (reserve them for another use, if desired) and keep syrup in a covered jar in the fridge up to 2 weeks.

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The Cool JerkDownload and Get Cool!