Sazerac

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 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.


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.


Sazerac

  • Servings: 1 serious cocktail
  • Difficulty: Big Easy
  • Print

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.


Mr. Bones and the Harvest Moon

Two things will be happening at our house tonight, the first of October. In preparation for Halloween, my husband, Les, will be hanging “Mr. Bones” above our front porch. This is a tradition he began more than 13 years ago, well before he met me. Mr. Bones gives me the creeps, especially for the first few days, when I haven’t yet adjusted to his eerie presence and his musty, dusty gauze cloak. I’ll be minding my own business around the house, only to open the front door to check the mail or something, and there’s this:

He’s just creepy, and he’s ALWAYS watching me.

It doesn’t matter which way we hang him on the hook, Mr. Bones is intent on staring me down with those dark, hollow eyes. I suppose he doesn’t like me, and the feeling is mutual. I don’t celebrate Halloween, and thankfully, this weird decoration is as far as Les goes with it. I can deal with it for one month, and Les can bring in the mail until November. It’s mostly election junk anyway (speaking of scary).

The other thing happening tonight, which I’m definitely getting into, is a full moon—and a special one, at that. The Harvest Moon, so named because it’s the closest one to the autumn equinox, is the first of two full moons we will observe during October this year. The second will happen on Halloween, and I’m pretty sure Mr. Bones had something to do with that. But this evening, in honor of the Harvest Moon, we will raise a glass with this beautiful drink that is singing a soul-stirring ode to autumn. It’s my own spin on a classic New York sour, which is typically whiskey, simple syrup, lemon and red wine.

I’ve given this pretty drink autumn flavor to match the colors!

I’ve shaken up the typical (of course, I have!) with Supercollider pear rye, a local small batch rye that is infused with pear (and so, so good), plus smoked maple syrup along with freshly squeezed lemon and a fruity red wine float that is easier to create than you might imagine. The subtleties of this drink’s spice, fruit, smoke and sweetness are so in tune with the season and all its warm earthiness. Supercollider is a product of Broad Branch distillery in my city of Winston-Salem, North Carolina. If their name is ringing a bell, you probably also enjoyed my Sweet Corn Ice Cream with Blueberry Whiskey Ribbon, which threw a spotlight on another Broad Branch product, Smashing Violet.

The world of whiskey can be a little overwhelming, and though I kind of “get it” for my own understanding, for Q&A on today’s post, I went straight to the source—Broad Branch Distillery’s Don Jenkins. He and the Broad Branch team are passionate about what they do, and Don was kind to offer expert insight into the spirit of this cocktail, so I could share that knowledge with you. Let’s learn something! 😊


What’s the difference between bourbon and whiskey?

Bourbon must start with a mash bill of at least 51% corn, come off our pot still at less than 160 proof, be barreled in new American oak at 125 proof or less and bottled at no less than 80 proof. If all of these criteria are met, you have bourbon. If any of these criteria are not met, you have whiskey.

And how does bourbon differ from rye?

The difference between bourbon and rye is the mash bill. Typically, a bourbon mash bill consists of corn, rye and barley. The same can be true of a rye. The difference is in percentage. If you have at least 51% corn in the mash you have a bourbon. If you have at least 51% rye in the mash you have a rye.

How does a fruit flavor get infused into a spirit?

In the case of Supercollider pear rye, the pears are co-fermented with the rye. So the rye and juice from the pears are cooked together and undergo fermentation together. The resulting aroma and flavor are integrated so the pear influence is subtle next to the robust rye profile, but present.


That’s a lot of science that goes into a cocktail! Ready to take this newfound knowledge to the glass? C’mon, I’ll show you how to set up for this drink and then we’ll do a quick tutorial on shaking it together and layering a wine float.

Where did my lemon go? Wouldn’t you know, it was still in the fridge when I snapped this photo! But yes, you need a fresh lemon.

The Setup

As with cooking, crafting a cocktail is easier when you have your ingredients and tools lined up and ready. For most whiskey-type drinks, I stir the ingredients together in a cocktail mixing glass. But today, I’m reaching for the shaker because drinks containing syrups or fruit juices blend better when shaken. For best results, you’ll also want a jigger or shot glass to measure your ingredients, and a spoon for adding the red wine layer.

The Components

My spirit of choice for this drink, Broad Branch Supercollider Pear Rye, is a delightful marriage of fruit and spice, and according to the label, it was finished in a brandy barrel. To me, that whole story says, “it’s fall, y’all.” This was a small batch spirit with limited availability (and only in NC), so unless you already have a bottle, you’ll need to substitute another rye. Don tells me that Broad Branch’s Rye Fidelity is a 100% rye, so that would also be an exceptional choice—nice and spicy. And (not to tease), he informs me that the next Supercollider will be blueberry and rye. Be still, my heart!

Smoked maple syrup sets the spicy rye off in the right direction for autumn harvest. Spice, sweet, fruit and smoke? Yes, please! This syrup came from the cocktail mixers section of Total Wine. If you cannot find a smoked maple syrup, choose any dark, robust maple syrup.

Fresh lemon juice means exactly that—fresh. For the love of good cocktails, please don’t use the little lemon-shaped bottle. Seriously, just buy a lemon.

Fruity red wine will be the float on top of this gorgeous, autumn-colored drink, and it helps to measure it ahead of time into a cup with a pour spout. I’m using a red blend from Spain, which is primarily tempranillo, but any light fruity red will work. If you’re not sure what makes a red wine “fruity,” here’s a quick tip: search the label description for words like “red fruit” or “berries” or “cherries.” These wines are lighter in structure and will be the best flavor balance for your drink. When in doubt, pick up a pinot noir.

Ice, of course. Cubes (or whatever shape they are) from the icemaker are fine for shaking and mixing the drink, but I’ll strain the mixed drink over a fresh ice sphere that I made with these nifty silicone molds. I have begun hoarding these things in various shapes and sizes, and they have definitely elevated our cocktails.

I recommend transferring the solid ice to a separate, closed container in the freezer. The silicone has tendency to absorb freezer odors during longer storage.

There’s a fussy science behind getting a crystal-clear ice cube, and I usually aim for that, but this cocktail is meant to celebrate the Harvest Moon, so I wanted it to be white like the moon. I added a small amount of lemonade to the water before freezing. Voila! I was surprised how much a difference it made in opacity, and I also found that the ice slipped out of the mold more easily. (Note to self: do this more often.)


Mix the drink already!

These amounts are for one cocktail. I’ll trust you to do the easy math if you’re making more. If you like a little more sour, up the ante on the lemon.

1.5 oz. (one shot glass) rye

0.5 oz. (1 Tbsp.) smoked maple syrup

Squeeze of a fresh lemon half (about 2 tsp.)

1 oz. fruity red wine (or more, if you’d like )

Combine rye, maple syrup and lemon juice in the cocktail shaker. Add regular mixing ice (about one cup) and shake heartily until the outside of the shaker is cold and frosty, which should be about 20 seconds. Strain the cocktail over ice sphere into the glass.

Add the wine float

For pretty (and easy) layering, lightly rest a spoon, back side up, just touching the ice, and slowly pour the wine over it. It helps to use a small cup with a spout, as you will have better control of the wine than you would have pouring it straight from the bottle. Don’t be afraid to try this—and remember, even if the mixture blends together more than you intend, it will still taste delicious.


This cocktail seems appropriate for anytime backyard sipping this fall, and especially this evening as we await the arrival of the Harvest Moon. Keep one eye on the eastern sky tonight and throughout the weekend to experience its beauty, and for musical ambience, may I recommend this mellow number from Neil Young? It’s been playing on repeat in my head all week.


As for you, Mr. Bones, your days are numbered—30 and counting, weird little gauze man.

Nilla doesn’t seem intimidated by Mr. Bones.

Want to print this happy hour recipe?


You may be wondering if I’m a paid endorser for the products I spotlight on Comfort du Jour, and the answer is “no.” I do not receive money or products for my recommendations, and what that means for you is that you can count on me to give an honest opinion. If something changes, I will update my disclosures. Either way, you can still count on me to be honest in my recommendations, as I will only stand behind products I believe in. Fair enough? 😀