Spotlighting The Cocktail

Indie
music fanatics have the annual South by Southwest music
conference. Movie buffs have Cannes – not to mention
Sundance and Berlinale and Toronto. Socially conscious
politicos and heavy-hitters have the World Economic Forum in
Davos. And foodies have a virtual harvest of gourmet
festivals around the globe to pick from annually. Sure as
ten dimes will buy you a dollar, you can bet that at each of
those jamborees, a cocktail – or three – has played a part
in helping ideas become marketable products and ensuring
deals get sealed. In the past half decade, the cocktail has
arrived – or, as many would argue, returned – to take the
spotlight at a conference of its own in New
Orleans.

Celebrated its fifth
anniversary this past July with a remarkable turnout of
about 12,OOO, up significantly from attendance in 2OO6,
which founder and organizer Ann Rogers estimates to be
between 9OOO and 1O,OOO. If anything, that jump suggests the
substantial – and rapid – surge of interest in liquid
culture and its legacy.

Among the cocktail
cognoscenti at the five-day gathering were the planet’s
leading mixologists, authors, scholars, consultants, and
spirits industry innovators (none of which are mutually
exclusive). They led seminars and tastings, moderated
panels, offered demonstrations, prepared menus to pair with
multi-course dinners, and judged Iron Chef-style cocktail
shake-off. The rest of the crowd that kept the conference
HQ, the historic, elegant Hotel Monteleone, as bustling as a
train terminal at rush hour, was comprised of a diverse
array of bar keeps who refer to themselves by an equally
diverse range of designations: mixologist, bartender, bar
chef, liquid architect, liquid engineer. Mingling over
cocktails at all hours, they swapped techniques, tips and
trivia, stories from the trenches, and insiders’ secrets.
Gadget recommendations and thoughts on ice were called for
as frequently as another round. And if there is anywhere to
accumulate arcane imbibing lore or get a revealing glimpse
of what trends lie ahead, this was it. If bar shows are
analogous to the frenetic college years of information
accumulation in the cocktail world, this is the more
intensive PhD track.

Past, as they say, is
precedent, and given the historic thread that ran through a
number of the sessions, it’s understood that any noteworthy
barkeep ready to shake up a vintage tipple better have the
story of the cocktail’s heritage as easily accessible as the
proper glassware. At one of the first day’s sessions,
“Revolution to Evolution: the Story of the American
Cocktail!” (exclamation point included), Robert Hess,
founder of the comprehensive website drinkboy.com and
self-dubbed “mixology research engineer”, led a panel of
industry experts, including several of the Museum of the
American Cocktail’s founders – Dale DeGroff, Ted “Doctor
Cocktail” Haigh and historian, author and Esquire drinks
correspondent David Wondrich. Equipped with lyrical nuggets
exhumed from vintage texts and tarnished relics he nervously
passed around the room, Wondrich chronicled the progression
of bar tools and cocktail-making staples, from “the merry
rap of the toddy stick” to the introduction of ice in the
183Os and 4Os and from the use of “sugar sifters” (read:
scalloped spoons) long before the advent of strainers to the
introduction of paper straws (“macaroni sticks”) and the
emergence of stainless steel (“a real godsend for
bartenders”).

The history lesson got more
in-depth the following day at “Cocktail Family Tree”.
Wondrich took the helm on this one, leading a panel that
guided those packed into the grand room through the
evolution of imbibing, beginning with the widespread
popularity of applejack and rum in Colonial America. Early
obsessions with monstrous bowls of punch dissolved when
forward-thinking bartenders began experimenting with glasses
in which they constructed sours and fixes, then daisies and
fizzes. Along came Jerry Thomas, about whom Wondrich
recently wrote a biography (Imbibe!: From Absinthe Cocktail
to Whiskey Smash, A Salute in Stories and Drinks to
“Professor” Jerry Thomas, Pioneer of the American Bar).
Hence, the golden age of the cocktail arrived. Prohibition,
of course, dulled its sparkle, but Jim Meehan, of Gramercy
Park and Pegu Club, went for sly amusement, infusing what’s
often looked upon as the excessive absurdity of the go-go
197Os and 198Os with a bit of sensibility. “Cocktails have
been getting more and more serious lately. It’s gotten to a
sort of rarefied place,” he said professorially. “What
shooters bring to mind is the fun that cocktails should
be.”

It’s official. Absinthe is
back. One of the most crowded sessions was led by Ted
Breaux, a chemist and fastidious absinthe enthusiast who,
after years of research, is producing Lucid, the first
absinthe to be legally imported to the US in 95 years. The
Veridian Group, an entrepreneurial Manhasset, New York-based
spirits company, was created specifically to take on the
challenge of bringing absinthe in the country. “It was like
David taking on Goliath,” Ted told me recently, referring to
the effort to get bureaucrats to see things from a different
point of view. It hit the shelves in Massachusetts on
November 2, making the Bay State among the first ten states
in the country for the distribution rollout.

At Tales, regardless of the
time of day, Breaux could typically be spotted surrounded by
a swarm of distributors, retailers, bartenders, restaurant
owners, and generally inquisitive imbibers. Absinthe? Legal?
Doesn’t it make you crazy? How can I get some? First, the
facts. Breaux insists that the dangerous substance part is
unfounded. “All those myths have political and economic
roots. We know that chemistry was so primitive back then,
you couldn’t prove or refute anything. Now because we have
information, we have a more reasonable case to present to
the US government,” he told me. “It’s crazy that anyone lend
any credence to it.” Lucid is produced with grand wormwood,
which contains thujone, which was long blamed to be the
active substance. Absinthe substitutes like Ricarad, Pernod
and Herbsaint, are made with what’s referred to as Southern
Wormwood, which Ted explains is an entirely different
substance, yielding a different chemical composition. He
further explained that mass prepared absinthe was harmful
back at the turn of the last century because food and
beverage controls didn’t exist. “That same mentality can be
produced today, just today we use safe dyes, controlled
types of oils. The quality of alcohol has to at least meet
minimum standards. There was a drive to make absinthe cheap
and industrial. In urban areas, [producers] didn’t
have easy access to herbs and other quality materials. In
Eastern Europe, [where a lot of absinthe has been
produced] there were no stills, just vats for mixing.
What’s changed since then is that Lucid isn’t something
that’s mass produced.”

With popularity come a few
challenges though. To ensure the ultimate authenticity of
the product, everything is produced in France’s Loire
Valley, where Breaux can be close to where the herbs grow.
He’s using 13O-year-old pot stills designed by Gustav
Eiffel. In the time between when Lucid was announced and it
landed in the market, Breaux saw the demand increase. He
equates any attempts to ramping up production to trying to
drive cross-country in a 19O5 Buick. “It’s a handmade
traditional product. I’d hate to see it go into mass
production. It’s very difficult to do. The question is how
to do it without severely compromising or removing the
artisanship of product.”

George Rowley, founder and
CEO of La Fee, headquartered in the UK, was in attendance to
amp up curiosity about his absinthe brand. La Fee produces
various styles of absinthe in France, Prague and
Switzerland. Already available in numerous countries from
Europe to the Middle East, it had yet to establish a date
for its American unveiling. As of press time, that was still
to be determined. But the product has already made great
waves around Europe. “My goal back in 1998 was to
reestablish absinthe as a category to the drinks industry
and enable it to become a standard on the list in any bar,
as with bourbon, vodka, gin, or rum. This is now almost
reality in the UK bar trade,” Rowley wrote in an email.
“Education is key – the consumer trusts the buyers to do
their homework and present them a fair reflection of any
category. This is why we do education and seminars for
organizations such as Slow Food in Turin, the Sydney Bar
Show, the London International Wine and Spirits Fair,
Vinolopis London, and others.”

There’s just one sticky
wicket in the renaissance of classic cocktails: not all the
ingredients in recipes found in vintage books are readily
available. But it won’t be that way for long. (Case in
point: absinthe.) In a particularly well-attended session,
“Lost Ingredients: Obtaining (or Making) Rare Ingredients
for Even Rarer Cocktails” attendees were offered a glimpse –
and a taste – of the bounties unearthed by some of the
countries most indefatigable foodies and cocktail devotees
whose passions have turned them into Indiana Jones-esque
huntsmen. Creme de violette, a wildflower flavored liqueur
from the Alps that was a cornerstone in several cocktails
fashionable around the turn of last century, has long been
lost to history on these shores. But thanks to the
enterprising import outfit Haus Alpenz, it’s being
re-introduced along with a smattering of other long obscure
items. Eric Seed, founder and principal of the
Minnesota-based company, scoured the globe to find producers
of products he found a rising demand for in his years of
conversations with chefs and bartenders. The majority of his
business so far has been with chocolatiers and pastry chefs
throughout Europe.

From Rothman & Winter,
an Austrian producer, Seed is importing creme de violette as
well as Orchard Apricot Liqueur (less sweet than apricot
brandy, which has become a stand-in) and Orchard Pear
Liqueur. Also in his portfolio are apricot and Pear Williams
eaux-de-vie and a trio of nut- or pine- steeped Alpine
liqueurs, all of which also come from Austrian producers.
Antique cocktail enthusiasts are excited about Batavia
Arrack, a product traditional to the East Indies. A
predecessor to rum agricole, it’s been long extinct
stateside, but it was a cornerstone of many punch drinks
that date back to the late seventeenth century. To find the
appropriate blend for the American market, Seed worked with
producers in Indonesia and blenders in the Netherlands.
“Boston has a deep base of diverse fine dining and
restaurants that are fairly progressive with classic
cocktail programs and are interested in serving traditional
products that they have confidence in selling. There’s a
familiarity with products like Nocino [walnut
liqueur] and an understanding of the potential and trend
toward classic cocktails. It’s a strong market – one of the
strongest outside New York and San Francisco,” Eric said
after a visit to Massachusetts in September. “People were
quite forward in asking for other products and wanting them
as soon as they come to market.” He added that accounts here
tended to start with an order of at least a case of products
like the creme de violette, Batavia Arrak and Alpino Nocino,
the latter of which he says was particularly fitting, given
the depth of fine Italian dining in
Massachusetts.

Bitters, as any cocktail
aficionado will tell you, is what makes a cocktail a bona
fide “cocktail”, according to the earliest printed
definition of the word found in The Balance and Columbian
Repository in 18O6. Homemade bitters were a topic of much
discussion throughout Tales. (House bitters are indeed
available in an assortment of bars in Boston and Cambridge,
like Deep Ellum, Number 9 Park, and Dante.) But throughout
the week, several notable producers announced that
additional varieties will soon be hitting the market. Joe
Fee, fourth generation front man of the Rochester-based Fee
Brothers, disclosed that his boutique-esque label would be
producing grapefruit bitters in addition to their already
extensive roster of artisanal bitters, which includes old
fashion, orange, mint, lemon, and peach. He also unveiled
the addition of a spice cordial syrup. (A ginger cordial
syrup was recently announced.) Fee Brothers offered the
first limited edition of whiskey barrel-aged bitters in
2OO7. They bottled two barrels worth, and the supply quickly
turned into demand. In October, Fee told me that at the
beginning of this March they’re “popping the cork” on three
barrels on what I’ll call the 2OO8 vintage. There was no
formal announcement, but a few people at the conference got
their hands on a new orange bitters from Angostura. All were
anxious to try it out in cocktails. Look for it this
year.

Most attendees were already
familiar St. Germain. It hit shelves in Massachusetts in
April 2OO7 and in the fall, they were selling about 1OO
cases a month in the state, with hot pockets in Boston and
Nantucket in the summer. With many industry notables like
Simon Difford (of Difford’s Guides) and Audrey Saunder, an
owner of Pegu Club in New York, already singing its praises,
the delicately flavored elderflower liqueur was one of the
more buzzed-about new products. Robert Cooper, the third
generation member of a distilling family (his father
introduced Chambord to America), founded Cooper Spirits
International in 2OO6 to produce it. “I originated the idea
of an elderflower liqueur for United States and
international consumption. All other elderflower products
that are available, specifically cordials and syrups, are
non-alcoholic,” Cooper recently wrote in an email. “In my
research I learned from on-trade feedback that elderflower
syrups were widely inconsistent and unstable. The syrups
were also hard to find and difficult to incorporate into a
recipe, as they can easily overpower cocktails.” Rob was
directly involved in figuring out the sourcing of the fresh
elderflower, perfecting the recipe and developing the
elegant packaging and distribution strategy. Cooper also sat
on the “Lost Ingredients” panel, and he expounded on how the
product’s legacy drove him as he developed it for the mass
market. “Pedigree is often lost on new products. St. Germain
has a classic pedigree via French farmers who have been
doing this for decades. Lastly, there’s increased consumer
appreciation and consumption of hand-crafted, high-quality
spirits,” Cooper wrote. “I loved the fact that it was a
flower that tasted like a fruit and had a somewhat storied
history as both a cocktail flavor and a health tonic. I soon
decided that elderflower lent itself to mixed drinks in a
way that is unmatched by any other flavor.”

A brand new product
introduced at Tales was Absolut New Orleans: a limited
edition mango-and-black-pepper flavored vodka. As a
philanthropic gesture, the company is donating 1OO percent
of the proceeds to Gulf Coast charities.

Don’t be surprised if
Polynesian cocktails show up in an increasing number of
restaurants and cocktail bars in the coming year. A session
led by Tiki expert and author Jeff “Beachbum” Berry was
presented as part history lesson, part unsolved – rather,
almost solved – mystery, as he told of his escapades to
decipher the Tiki cocktail recipes created by Ernest Raymond
Beaumont Gantt (AKA: Donn Beach), who opened the storied Don
the Beachcomber’s in Hollywood in 1934. Beach had encrypted
his formulas so they couldn’t be replicated by his
competitors, not least of which included the legendary
Trader Vic. If you’ve ever had a cloyingly sweet Mai Tai
that made you swear off tropical drinks, rest assured
they’re a far cry from the original creations, which, when
made properly, have a more sublime flavor – if not
presentation. That’s largely thanks to orgeat, an
almond-flavored syrup, and falernum, a lime-orange-ginger
potion, both of which are commonly left out or
insufficiently substituted. Fee Brothers produces both. In
fact, according to Joe Fee, Massachusetts seems right on
target for the Tiki resurrection. “We have a history of
largely selling products to the Asian restaurant market –
orgeat in particular. Most of what we produce winds up in
Boston market,” he said.

And so, five days, 3OOO
pounds of ice, 725O mint leaves, 484O lemon twists, and 3O
gallons of fresh lime juice later, everyone bid a fond, if
tired, farewell to the historic cocktail capitol and
decamped back to their own corners of the country. People’s
thirst was quenched, to be sure, but their appetite for
offering guests or clients new concoctions and old stories
was insatiable as ever. With new products to try, many more
to look forward to, lost ingredients to return to their
rightful place behind the bar, and vintage recipes to
revive, the forecast in the spirits world is, well, wet. And
much to the delight of the industry – and discerning
customers – conditions don’t appear to be letting up any
time soon.