Princess Mary Cocktail.
1/3 Crème de Cacao. (3/4 oz Mozart Black Chocolate Liqueur)
1/3 Sweet Cream. (3/4 oz Cream)
1/3 Dry Gin. (3/4 oz North Shore Distiller’s No. 6)
Shake well and strain into cocktail glass.
In his book, “Barflies and Cocktails,” Harry McElhone tells us, “This cocktail was introduced by myself in honour of Princess Mary’s wedding to Lord Lascelles, February, 1922.”
Not quite sure how to break it to him that this is pretty much just an Alexander (No. 1).
The Mozart Black Chocolate is their only non-cream based chocolate liqueur. However, it is made with dark chocolate and fairly flavorful. At least compared to many Creme de Cacao. I suppose it is cheating slightly to use the Mozart in this drink.
However, with the Mozart Black Chocolate, this is not all bad. I mean, if a slightly ginny glass of chocolate milk doesn’t sound “all bad” to you, this will likely appeal. Surely better than the preceding Poppy Cocktail!
This post is one in a series documenting my ongoing effort to make all of the cocktails in the Savoy Cocktail Book, starting at the first, Abbey, and ending at the last, Zed.
Princess Cocktail.
3/4 Apricot Brandy. (1/2 oz Rothman and Winter Orchard Apricot)
(1 oz Osocalis Brandy)
1/4 Sweet Cream. (lightly whip and float on top)
Use liqueur glass and pour Cream carefully so that it does not mix.
Just having dreadful luck with pictures this night. Not sure what happened. Barely serviceable picture of both the last and this cocktail.
Uh right.
So, Princess or not, there was no way I was making this as written. 1 1/2 oz Apricot Brandy with a cream float? Oh bleah! As much as I like the Rothman and Winter Orchard Apricot, this needed some taming.
A little real actual brandy was just the thing.
Not normally a big cream fan, but found this quite enjoyable. Probably a little nutmeg grated on top would have further embellished the pleasure.
This post is one in a series documenting my ongoing effort to make all of the cocktails in the Savoy Cocktail Book, starting at the first, Abbey, and ending at the last, Zed.
Parisian Blonde Cocktail.
1/3 Sweet Cream. (3/4 oz Sweet Cream)
1/3 Curacao. (3/4 oz Cartron Curacao Triple Sec)
1/3 Jamaica Rum. (3/4 oz Appleton Extra)
Shake well and strain into cocktail glass. (Well, no. Using a Milk Frother, whip cream until slightly thickened. Stir rum and curacao with ice to chill. Strain into cocktail glass. Carefully pour lightly thickened cream over the back of a spoon to float on top. Garnish with finely grated cinnamon.)
As in the Panama Cocktail, again deploying the Clover Club method of agitating the cream separately from the other ingredients, then spooning on top. Done that way, this is an enjoyable after dinner cocktail, along the lines of a Brandy Alexander.
Found the Cartron Curacao at a liquor store in Napa. May be my new favorite orange liqueur. Nice complex intense orange flavor, good proof level, and very little harshness or burn.
The interesting part, here, is that the name of the product uses both “Curacao” and “Triple Sec”, hearkening back to the origins of orange liqueurs.
This post is one in a series documenting my ongoing effort to make all of the cocktails in the Savoy Cocktail Book, starting at the first, Abbey, and ending at the last, Zed.
The Magnolia Blossom Cocktail
1/4 Lemon Juice (1/2 oz Lemon Juice)
1/4 Cream. (1/2 oz Cream)
1/2 Gin. (1 oz Plymouth Gin)
1 Dash Grenadine. (1/2 tsp. Homemade)
Shake well and strain into cocktail glass.
Another cocktail ripped from the pages of Judge Jr’s prohibition era tome, “Here’s How”. Mr. Jr. notes that this cocktail was “Originated by Finley White of Durham, N.C., where the bull comes from.”
Interesting in that most cream based cocktails are on the sweet side. The Magnolia Blossom, on the other hand, tastes mostly like gin flavored yoghurt. Kind of nice if, like me, you enjoy that sort of thing.
This post is one in a series documenting my ongoing effort to make all of the cocktails in the Savoy Cocktail Book, starting at the first, Abbey, and ending at the last, Zed.
Five-Fifteen Cocktail
1/3 Curacao. (3/4 oz Luxardo Orange Triplum)
1/3 French Vermouth. (3/4 oz Dolin Dry Vermouth)
1/3 Sweet Cream. (3/4 oz Cream)
Shake well and strain into cocktail glass.
I knew I’d made something like this before: Bud’s Special Cocktail. This is nominally closer to the idea of a Creamsickle in drink form than the Bud’s Special had been and a bit more pleasant. Still, not really the sort of drink I can finish.
This post is one in a series documenting my ongoing effort to make all of the cocktails in the Savoy Cocktail Book, starting at the first, Abbey, and ending at the last, Zed.
Fifth Avenue Cocktail
1/3 Crème de Cacao. (Mozart Black Chocolate Liqueur)
1/3 Apricot Brandy. (Rothman & Winter Orchard Apricot)
1/3 Sweet Cream.
Use liqueur glass and pour carefully, so that ingredients do not mix.
This was actually pretty yummy, as these sorts of things go. But, then, I enjoy drinking the R&W Orchard Apricot straight. So, no problem there. Heck, I’d probably have it with my toast in the morning, or on my pancakes, if I didn’t have a pesky job to go to.
I got the Mozart Black Chocolate liqueur a while ago and have failed in my imagination to find uses for it. This was really pretty good. Certainly beats the heck out of Bols Creme de Cacao. I’m just glad that the specific gravities worked out between the two liqueurs.
This post is one in a series documenting my ongoing effort to make all of the cocktails in the Savoy Cocktail Book, starting at the first, Abbey, and ending at the last, Zed.
The Cowboy Cocktail
2/3 Whisky. (1 1/2 oz Plump Jack selected single barrel Eagle Rare 13 year old Bourbon)
1/3 Cream. (3/4 oz Cream)
Cracked Ice.
Shake well and strain into cocktail glass.
Another cocktail ripped from the pages of Judge Jr.’s 1927 “Here’s How”.
I dunno where a Cowboy would get cream, or why he would put it in his Whisk(e)y.
Maybe to cover up really bad “bathtub” whisky?
“Here’s How” was published during the period of prohibition in the US. Perhaps I should have used Canadian Whisky (I am not implying here that Canadian Whisky is “bad”, just that it might be a more appropriate choice for the time period this cocktail was created.)
In any case, another drink that didn’t do much for me, bordering on a waste of perfectly good Bourbon and cream. I didn’t pour it down the sink; but, a dash of liqueur or simple would do a lot to perk this up.
If you’re going to mix Whisky and cream, at least make yourself something nice like the Barbary Coast.
This post is one in a series documenting my ongoing effort to make all of the cocktails in the Savoy Cocktail Book, starting at the first, Abbey, and ending at the last, Zed.
The Corn Popper
1 Pint Corn (Georgia or Maryland).
1/2 Pint Cream.
The Whites of 2 Eggs.
1 Tablespoonful Grenadine.
Fill highball glasses half full of this mixture and fill up with Vichy or Seltzer.
This is another of the recipes Craddock (or the Savoy editors) cribbed verbatim from Judge Jr.’s “Here’s How”.
The recipe in “Here’s How” includes the following recommendation, “Don’t get near a fire after one of these!”
Being the literalist that I am, and knowing that most of the commercial “corn whiskey” is of questionable merit, I was thinking I would use some semi-vintage J.W. Dant Bourbon I found at a liquor store. It’s the only whiskey I have that actually tastes like corn.
However, I decided to double check on “Corn”, so consulted “Moonshine” (Link to his excellent book on the subject) historian Matt Rowley in regards to the Corn Popper.
He replied:
Now you’ve drifted into some interesting semantic territory rather than merely obscure ingredients.
In the Savoy book, some things are what they seem – absinthe is generally that, despite variations in style. So is applejack (usually). “Corn” is a shorthand code, especially a post-prohibition work, merely for illicit spirits (often, but not necessarily, whiskey) that may be made from nearly any ingredient except fruit, but including sugar, wheat, rye, “ship stuff,” sorghum, cattle feed, mule chop, and, on occasion, corn.Just like “The South” is used as a false badge of authenticity when attributing origins to quite local corn whiskey, “corn” itself is a suspect appellation.
Shake loose that notion that “corn” is ever really corn whiskey. Unfortunate, but there it is. From the 1920’s through the late 1990’s, sugar formed the backbone of American off-the-books distilling. It was cheaper, faster, and more profitable to make sugar spirits than corn. When the price was right, you could call it whatever you want.
Also, there is and was such diversity in manufacture from unregulated distillers that November’s corn was rarely the same as August’s (which may, in fact, be more prone to being an ersatz whiskey because the harvest wasn’t in yet). Even today’s new wave of home distillers who are very serious about their brandies and absinthe will bump their corn with table sugar.
Add to that regional flavor profile variants, the effect of water on the flavor profile (both in fermenting mash and cutting the distillate), and the taste and sugar content variability of pre-prohibition heirloom maize among genuine corn and you quickly find that a cocktail specifying “corn” might as well specify “liquor” as an ingredient.
As you’ve noted, the nationally available commercial examples of corn whiskey are, well, less than inspiring and I’ve yet to find one I’d recommend as anything than a learning experience.
If all you have available is commercial corn liquor, try the corn popper with bourbon (or white dog if you can lay your hands on some) – it’s probably not a bad place to begin even though most corn – real or not – tends to be clear, uncolored, and often unaged whiskey. This is not the time to break out your finest as you wander into Delmarva milk punch territory.
Well, alright, then. With that in mind I set about re-doing the recipe for a single serving.
The Corn Popper
1 1/2 oz clear, pungent, liquid of unknown origin
1 egg white
3/4 oz Cream
1 teaspoon Grenadine (homemade)
Measure ingredients into cocktail shaker. Seal and shake well. Break seal, add ice and shake vigorously. Strain into collins glass. Top with selzer or sparkling mineral water.
The drink has a nice flavor of yeast and malt. Reminded me a bit of a very potent malted egg cream.
Also, interesting, that the drink really isn’t very sweet. I was being pretty generous in using a whole teaspoon of Grenadine, as Savoy/Judge Jr. only call for a tablespoon of grenadine in a pint of liquor and a half pint of cream.
This probably betrays some weakness of character on my part; but, I was having a Unibroue Maudite later in the evening, and thought, you know, topping up the Corn Popper with Maudite instead of sparkling water might be kind of nice.
This post is one in a series documenting my ongoing effort to make all of the cocktails in the Savoy Cocktail Book, starting at the first, Abbey, and ending at the last, Zed.
Cordova Cocktail
2/3 Dry Gin. (1 1/2 oz Tanqueray)
1 Dash Absinthe. (Lucid Absinthe)
1 Teaspoonful Fresh Cream.
1/3 Italian Vermouth. (3/4 oz Cinzano Rosso)
Shake well and strain into cocktail glass.
I was making dinner and had some fennel fronds around, so I dropped a couple on top as a garnish.
This was kind of weird.
Cream, Gin, Sweet Vermouth, and Absinthe really isn’t a combination I would think of.
It’s not a bad cocktail; but, really didn’t do a lot for me, either. I’d say, probably, I would greatly prefer it without the cream, thank you very much.
This post is one in a series documenting my ongoing effort to make all of the cocktails in the Savoy Cocktail Book, starting at the first, Abbey, and ending at the last, Zed.
Café De Paris Cocktail
The White of 1 Egg
3 Dashes Anisette (1 Barspoon Anis del Mono)
1 Teaspoonful of Fresh Cream
1 Glass of Dry Gin (2 oz Boodles Gin)
Shake well and strain into medium size glass.
Kind of underimpressed with this one. Maybe I overshook and it got a bit diluted? Anyway, I felt like the anis could have been a bit stronger, and the cocktail a bit sweeter.
Cafe de Paris is a famous nightclub in London.
The Prince of Wales was a well known guest in the early days, somehow insuring the club’s success. Hmmm… Wait a sec. Seems familiar somehow… Something about Prince Harry and a treasure box, Mahiki tiki bar becoming successful in London. Do the British never get tired of these characters?
Anyway, my favorite story from the Cafe de Paris website:
In 1939 the Café was allowed to stay open even though theatres and cinemas were closed by order. People gossiped their way through the blackout and the Café was advertised as a safe haven by Martin Poulson, the maitre d’, who argued that the four solid storeys of masonry above were ample protection. This tragically proved to be untrue on March 8th 1941 when two 50K landmines came through the Rialto roof straight onto the Café dance floor. Eighty people were killed, including Ken ‘Snakehips’ Johnston who was performing onstage at the time and Poulson whose words had come back to haunt him. Had the bomb been dropped an hour later, the casualties would have been even higher.
The Ken Snakehips Johnson Story. I’ll take that over a story about the English monarchy any day.
This post is one in a series documenting my ongoing effort to make all of the cocktails in the Savoy Cocktail Book, starting at the first, Abbey, and ending at the last, Zed.
