You don't know Jack

Now my favorite whiskey recipe is hands-down a glass with some Jim Beam in it.  But I guess Jack Daniels is ok too.  But Jack with grenadine, triple sec, and orange juice?  Well, it takes all sorts...

http://www.mademan.com/15-great-jack-drinks/

I might have to try an Evil Jack some day.

I have a friend who loves to walk into bars and ask for "two fingers... Jack... neat" just because he knows no bartender under the age of 50 has ever heard those words.  Once the girl behind the bar sadly informed him they were out of Tequila.

 

I would have laughed my ass off if they hadn't been out and he got a tumbler with a shot of tequila and a shot of whiskey, because he would have gotten exactly what he ordered: Two Fingers, Jack, neat.

But back to that link, some of the recipes talk about adding things to ease Jack's bite.  What bite?  I always thought Jack was a little too smooth and sweet, personally.  Sure, I've had sweeter whiskies like Ezra Brooks, and there's whiskey-based liqueurs like Southern Comfort, American Honey, and Red Stag. 

But Jack, well, people put it in the same category as Bourbon.  I was once at a bar and ordered Jim Beam.  When I was given a glass of Jack Daniels instead, I could tell by the flavor and spoke up.  The bartender said "Eh, Jim, Jack... same thing."  I almost flew off the handle, as I was in a pricey establishment and had paid a pretty penny for a moderately clean glass full of not what I asked for.  But that's how a lot of people think.  Many consider Jim and Jack to be interchangeable.  But would they do the same with Crown or Seagram's 7?  Canadian whiskey is pretty close to Bourbon, people don't consider it to be bourbon.  Nor has it ever pretended to be anything other than what it is: it comes in different shaped bottles, totally different style labels and completely different marketing campaigns.  But just look at that bottle of Jack, all square and bourbony and old-timey.  You get the feeling that on the weekends Jack Daniels puts on a fake mustache and asks its wife to call him "Bourbon" in bed.

 

Jack seems to have always had a chip on their shoulder about the whole bourbon thing.  And in all honesty, if you fed samples into some sort of chemical analyzing computer thingie (I never took Chemistry in college) I'm sure it would say Jack Daniels and Jim Beam are close enough to be categorized as the same substance.  I won't deny that in flavor, Jack is like a smooth, sweetish bourbon.  But taste isn't how bourbon is defined.

The fact of the matter is Jack is not Bourbon because it's made in the wrong place.  It's not a matter of taste, or ingredients, or licensing and trademarks.  I can't call myself a Dane because I wasn't born in Denmark, nor do I live there now.  So I call myself a Yinzer, because I'm from and live in Pittsburgh. 

 

A lot of booze is that way.  Mezcal can only come from one town, if it's made somewhere in the same county you get to call it Tequila but otherwise it's just cactus juice.  And everyone involved is ok with that arrangement.  Scotch has to come from Scotland, otherwise Sean Connery shows up at your house in the middle of the night and beats you with a blackjack until you sing Nighean Nan Geug backwards three times.  Those are the rules.

But even going from that argument, I'm sure there's lots of people that would say "Kentucky, Tennessee... what's the difference?"  It's a only a 3 hour and 57 minute drive from Lynchburg Tennessee to Shepherdsville Kentucky.  That's not too long, you can make a day trip from one location to the other.  But to put that in perspective, if you started at the Dewars distillery and drove North, South, East, or West for that same 223 miles, you'd be in the fucking ocean.  So it's not like the Bourbon folks are being dicks excluding Jack, other liquors have just as strict geographic requirements.

Nor am I trying to say Jack Daniels is shit.  It's not shit.  I drank some with Richard a two nights ago (yes, that was a Monday.)  It's a very fine Southern American whiskey, but it is not Bourbon and it's not Jim Beam.  And I know folks love their Jack Daniels; who prefer it over any actual bourbon with it's rotten corn sourness and its rough-around-the-edges, non-charcoal-filtered bite; but to me Jack Daniels will always just be pretend bourbon.  When I want a glass of whiskey I reach for that white label.

No school like old school.

We need to talk about your flair...

Bartender flair is something I've wanted to post a video of for some time now, but I could never find a video that really blew my dress up. This one is definitely good enough.





Now, I have some problems with this sort of thing; it doesn't really have to do with mixing drinks, it's just juggling. If you look closely, you can see about 7 shots of booze spilling out all over the place as he flips the bottle, which in my eyes is alcohol abuse. And that's why I haven't posted a video like this yet. But this guy's presentation and preciseness caught my eye. It's not 8 bottles, it's not a 12 minute routine that empties 7 of the 8 bottles, but it's really well executed.

The 117

I woke up dizzy, nauseous, and in pain the morning of Richard's annual party. That's the morning of, not the morning after.

Confused? Let me back up a bit.

The night before, a friend had come back into town for the party, and we'd gone out for dinner and drinks. I ordered chicken fried steak for dinner, but emotional trauma from a previous chicken fried steak experience kept me from eating much of the delectable deep fried beef before me (it's a long story). But the short and chubby of it is I didn't get much food in me, but I didn't adjust my alcohol intake accordingly. Sure, it was spaced out enough that I was reasonably sober by the time I was going to sleep, but you need the calories and moisture of a good meal to help your body process the fusel oils that exist in every form of alcohol that's intended for human consumption. After those who were pregaming for the next day left the bar, a friend of my girlfriend's showed up and we stayed a couple more rounds.

Also, I'd had a pretty bad allergy attack during the night. So by Saturday morning, my head was throbbing, I felt like I needed to vomit, and I was stumbling around like a new camera man for Deadliest Catch.


Water, Sudafed, Tylenol, Pepto Bismol, Immodium, and a whole pot of black coffee had me feeling only moderately human by the time I headed out for Richard's place.

Richard and the out-of-town friend were already setting up (they had eaten dinner). I was still feeling like shit, but I had grabbed a pounder of Red Bull on the way. That's right, a pounder! I drank it down like it was nothing and still wasn't very energetic. But guests were starting to file in, so it was time for Paddy and myself to take our traditional places for our once-a-year amateur bar tending.


I had spent no small amount of time assembling a cheat-sheet for mixing drinks. In fact, I had asked you for ideas, but I only got one reply. So I started by adding all the items from a menu Richard had made up for the first of his annual parties, then I searched for tropical-themed drinks, as this was to be a tropical-themed party. The next thing I know, the sheet had over one hundred drinks on it. One hundred seventeen, to be exact. So I called it "The 117" (pronounced One One Seven).

In no time, the booze was flowing freely. Everyone had to do a shot when they arrived, and they got a stamp on their hand/arm for that and every shot they did that night. I, however, wasn't drinking too much. I was still feeling pretty terrible.

Someone else who wasn't drinking much was Richard. Playing host is difficult, even with two suave bartenders like Paddy and myself keeping everyone intoxicated, there's still a ton of stuff to do. He was prepping food, manning the grill, meeting and greeting, and trying to keep everyone entertained.

Though I attempted to help him with this last item as well. I had come up with games that, as a bartender, I could use to keep the energy of the party going. The aforementioned stamps were one of those ideas.

We also played Russian roulette with shotglasses. Six shotglasses were arranged like chambers in a revolver. Five were filled with water, one with vodka. Two people would take turns drinking them. It was a lot of fun and helped keep people hydrated.


Occasionally I would ring a bell and ask for something from a party-goer; a receipt from the liquor store, the person who drove the oldest car to the party, the person with the most piercings, stuff like that. The winner got anything ranging from a glowing necklace to a tiki shotglass.

One game that took all evening to play was a betting pool of sorts. Everyone guessed when they thought the first person would throw up. Not who, just when. The closest person without going over won a prize. The guesses really spanned the whole party from early afternoon to near midnight. The earliest time almost won, but dry heaves don't count.


But even with all this, there was more than enough to keep Richard busy as hell for the earlier parts of the party. But at some point, the party gained enough momentum that he could take some time out. He joined Paddy and I to make a couple drinks for folks, we took a walk around the block with travelers and cigars, and then... well, he kind of disappeared from my sight for awhile. My girlfriend was handing my camera back to me when a look of shock came over her face. I turned around just in time to witness an impressive spectacle. Now, I'm no stranger to face-smashing, and I have to say that Richard's maneuver was quite impressive. As I turned around, I saw Richard bent at the waist about to ram a standing oscillating fan at the end of the bar with his head/face. He smashed into it, creating an impressive crashing sound, then collapsed behind the bar on his back. Then the fan fell on top of him.

I don't know exactly when or how, but Richard had gotten completely and utterly demolished. He was led outside where he could roll around in the grass without injuring himself too much, but soon he was taken upstairs to the bathroom, and Paddy's sister-in-law won the pool.

After purging himself of whatever the hell it was he put in his stomach, Richard tried to re-join the party. It didn't go well. He just kind of rolled around in the grass some more saying very nice or very insulting things to people. He looked up at his wife and said "I'm sorry I do this every year..." Then he looked up at one of his brothers and said "You're the best brother!" Then he turned to Paddy and spit on his foot. The pecking order had been clearly established. Paddy stared down at his foot with an expression that conveyed dismay, discomfort, and a complete lack of surprise. I told Paddy he would be completely justified wiping his foot on Richard. He did so.

Once Richard's very tolerant wife put him to bed, the party took on a bit more of a sexy and subdued atmosphere. I rang the bell and said the first person to give me their bra would get a prize. Paddy's future brother-in-law quickly appeared at the bar holding his fiance's bra high, so I gave her the prize of a flowered bra I had purchased at the party store.


Then things got mellow, but not in a bad way. The party still had momentum, it had just shifted gears. The music changed from upbeat reggae to slower classic rock. The sun was down. Tacky tropical decorations fluoresced under black light while couples danced to slower, easier music. At the end of the bar, casual acquaintances were getting frisky. Outside, the smokers waxed philosophical. I was finally feeling human again and having some serious cocktails. As the crowd grew thinner, groups of old friends got together and talked over old times. The party didn't die, or even really stop. There was no sensation of brakes being applied; it just kind of eased away like music from a ship drifting into the distant night. It was how every party should end. It's how everything should end. It left everyone feeling joyful, relaxed, and completely satisfied.


Well, almost everyone...

Gonzo Girl shows you what to do with your rum

Mixing It Up

In a few short days it will be the weekend of Richard's annual party. I think he's mentioned this, but I'm feeling too lazy to go searching for the instances to link to. This year, it is tropical/luau themed.

Now, we know there's at least a few people out there reading this blog. Maybe not many, or regularly, but I'm interested in hearing from some of you. Paddy and I usually tend bar at this event, and I'd like to know what you think we should serve. I just started work on a cheat sheet for a few more unusual tropical drinks. The bar is pretty well stocked, as Richard has shown before:



...so damn near anything is a possibility. I'm looking for drinks 1) with appropriately themed names, and 2) that don't suck. What do you think should be on my cheat sheet? Blue Hawaiian Screw? Caribbean Queen? Screaming Multiple Orgasm On The Beach? What's tasty? What's interesting? What's your favorite? We'd love to know!

Museum of the American Cocktail

Spirits: Drink up history at the Museum of the American Cocktail in New Orleans

King of the Zombies

Last weekend, I had a drink called an Electric Long Island. The bartender had suggested it as a drink he makes well, and it was indeed very delicious and inebriating. He had described it as "a Long Island Ice Tea with Bols instead of Coke." Unlike the Blue Hurricane , it had just the right amount of Bols. It was a very well balanced drink that delivered quite a punch, but his description hadn't sat quite right with me. "A Long Island Ice Tea with Bols instead of Coke." He seemed like a fairly knowledgeable bartender, and I didn't want to be a dick, so I bit my tongue. But what I wanted to do was launch into a lecture about a seldom mentioned classification of drink that everyone's had but no one knows the name of. I wanted to correct him and say "Oh, you mean a Zombie with Bols?"

The Zombie. One of the most appropriate names for a drink I know of, since it does quite handily suppress your higher brain functions; leading to flat-footed shuffling, unintelligible groaning, and often a bit of drooling. The best way to tell you what a Zombie is, is to say that a Long Island Ice Tea is a Zombie with Coke. Get it now? Or do you not know how to make a Long Island? Lots of folks don't, and often I've gotten strange looks from people when I make one for them. I often get "Oh, you don't put ice tea in it?" or "Ew... why do you put Coke in it?" (The answers to those, respectively, are "No, you don't" and "Yes, otherwise it wouldn't look like ice tea.") So let's start there.

Long Island Ice Tea
1/2 oz vodka
1/2 oz gin
1/2 oz triple sec
1/2 oz light or gold rum
1/2 oz tequila
2 oz sour mix
Shake, pour over ice, top with Coca Cola, then stir.

That, in spite of what anyone else may tell you, is how you make a Long Island Ice Tea. I often skew the ingredients a bit, putting less gin and tequila in it, and more vodka and rum; but that is non-standard.

Now, if you take away the Coke you have the base for a Zombie. It's kind of just mixing all your booze together with some sours over ice. It's a fantastic base for making other drinks; all you have to do is mix in whatever liqueur you have on hand, possibly some Sprite to make it fizzy, and you've got a great cocktail!

Gila Monster

1/2 oz Vodka
1/2 oz Gin
1/2 oz Rum
2 oz Sweet and Sour Mix
Splash of Orange Juice (optional, I feel)
Splash of Triple Sec or Cointreau
Shake, pour over ice.
1/2 oz Melon Liqueur
Stir, serve.

Midori works well, but DeKyuper gives you a great, glowing, neon green color. Sweet, pretty, and balls-out strong. A really fun drink.




Greatful Dead
1/2 oz Tequila
1/2 oz vodka
1/2 oz Light Rum
1/2 oz Gin
1/2 oz Chambord raspberry liqueur
Shake, pour over ice, top off with Sprite.

Good one for someone who says they're not big on the flavor of alcohol. The Chambord is a bit burny and covers up the liquor very well.




Electric Long Island
1/2 oz vodka
1/2 oz gin
1/2 oz white (or light) rum
1/2 oz tequila
1/2 oz Bols
Shake, pour over ice. Top off with Sprite.
Garnish with 1 lemon wedge (or give it a squirt of lemon juice)

This was quite yummy, and I highly recommend giving one a try. Sweet, but not too sweet. Citrusy and and blue. Who doesn't like blue stuff?



Acapulco Zombie
1.5 oz Vodka
1.5 oz Tequila
1.5 oz Rum
Orange juice
Shake, pour over ice (into a large glass)
1 dash White Creme de Menthe
Splash of grapefruit juice
Stir, enjoy.

This is a bad night in a glass. Three shots of liquor, then mint and two kinds of citrus for flavoring. Just take a moment to really think about how that will taste... in both directions.

But don't stop there! There's no need to stick to those recipes, this is a very forgiving base to start with. Stick some strawberry liqueur in it and call it Pink Underwear, or some cherry liqueur and call it a Transfusion. Let your creativity run wild! Just remember, depending on how you're mixing them, you might be serving everyone triples. Might be a good way to end up with carpet dyed various colors.

So next time you're having a party... one of those kind of parties... bust out some Zombie drinks! They're colorful, everyone likes the taste, and they'll get you completely demolished in a hurry. What's not to like about that?