El Presidente

The El Presidente is a surprising drink. It might look something like a dry Martini, but one sip and you'll see that it has more in common with a Daiquiri or Mai Tai. It's rum-based, sweet, and citrusy, a spirit-forward Caribbean cocktail that's probably quite different from anything you've had.

If you've never heard of the El Presidente, don't feel bad. It's a cocktail that was set up for failure. Dating back to Cuba in the 1910's, it enjoyed incredible popularity for a while. But post-prohibition, that popularity plummeted. And that's probably has a lot to do with its ingredients.

First, there's rum, which was not a popular base spirit in the post-prohibition 20th century (outside of Tiki bars, at least). Then there's vermouth, which a lot of people didn't know how to store properly, leading to requests for ultra-dry martinis. Not to mention that most bartenders were using the wrong vermouth in this cocktail, as you'll see below. And then there's grenadine and orange curaçao. Used in their proper amounts, they round the El Presidente out beautifully. But if you do a Google image search for "El Presidente cocktail," the drinks you see will not look like the one I made - they are all either bright red or vivid orange, victims of the temptation to just pour in more sugar to salvage a sub-par drink.

Luckily for the El Presidente, rum is back in vogue, and so are the old classics. The recipe has been resurrected in its original glory, and it's definitely one worth making.

History:  Like the legendary Daiquiri, the El Presidente hails from Havana, Cuba. Some accounts indicate that the El Presidente's exact origins are uncertain, while others (like this thorough overview at Tasting Table) are pretty confident about their facts. According to them, it was invented sometime in the 1910's and named after Mario García Menocal, the president of Cuba at the time. In 1919, an American bartender named Eddie Woelke moved to Havana to run the bar at the Sevilla Biltmore Hotel. He took an interest in the recipe, tweaking it a bit and popularizing it from his bar.

Apparently Menocal's successor, Gerardo Machado, was quite jealous of Menocal's signature cocktail and asked for his own. A few dashes of orange curaçao were added to the El Presidente, and the Presidente Machado was created. In the 1930's, Cuban bartender Constante Ribalaigua Vert combined the two presidential recipes at the famous El Florida in Havana, using curaçao but dyeing it red to look like grenadine. Today you see recipes called El Presidente with one or the other, or both.

Once Prohibition was lifted, the El Presidente made its way to the States, but something was lost in translation. The recipe called for French vermouth, which usually means dry vermouth. But when bartenders made the cocktail this way, it was decidedly lackluster (probably leading to those heavy pours of orange curaçao and grenadine). After some digging, cocktail historian David Wondrich discovered that the vermouth used in the original recipe came from Chambéry in France, which is historically famous for making blanc vermouth - a sweeter, richer white vermouth. This discovery, along with a resurgence of interest in classic cocktails and ingredients, has allowed the El Presidente to gain the popularity it has always deserved.

El Presidente

1 1/2 oz. white rum (Bully Boy)
1 1/2 oz. blanc vermouth (Dolin)
1 tsp. orange curaçao (Ferrand)
1/2 tsp. grenadine (Stirrings)

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass with ice and stir until chilled. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with an orange twist.

Recipe adapted from Imbibe.

Bamboo

If you like cocktails and you haven't bought a bottle of Amontillado sherry yet, I highly recommend you try it. It's not a big investment nor a big commitment; a decent bottle runs under $20, and because it's a fortified wine like vermouth, it should be stored in the fridge and can eventually go bad. It's a unique ingredient because it has flavors like raisin, nuts, and spice, but is actually fairly dry. So it can add those flavors to a cocktail without adding sweetness. I've made a number of recipes with Amontillado that I absolutely love: the Sherry Cobbler, Teenage Riot, Toffee Negroni, Flor de Jerez, and Legend are a few I've posted, as well as a couple originals of mine: the Pear Tree and L'Orchid. 

Amontillado sherry plays a starring role in the Bamboo. This is a classic, turn-of-the-century cocktail that was extremely popular in its time. With the resurgence of interest in sherry cocktails, it's finally receiving some attention again. And not a moment too soon. This is a seriously tasty drink, particularly if you love sherry as much as I do. It has a nutty, raisiny flavor while still being surprisingly light. Also, without any hard liquor, the Bamboo is a relatively low ABV cocktail that still drinks like something more spirit-forward. As David Wondrich writes, it "looks like a cocktail, tastes like a cocktail, and punches like a six-year-old."

The first recipe for the Bamboo in print (see below) as well as the more famous version in Boothby's 1908 The World's Drinks and How to Mix Them, don't specify what kind of sherry should be used. As such, you'll see the Bamboo made with a number of different sherries besides Amontillado, as well as with both blanc and dry vermouths. But ever since the Death & Co book changed the way I made Sazeracs, I've trusted them on the classics. When their recipes stray from tradition, it's usually for the better. And I think that's true of their specs for the Bamboo. They use Amontillado sherry and blanc vermouth, which probably tastes more similar to the "French vermouth" of Boothby's day. They also add half a teaspoon of simple syrup, which makes the drink less dry and really helps the sherry shine.

History: According to Boothby, the Bamboo was invented by Louis Eppinger, a German bartender who worked in Yokohama, Japan, where he managed the Grand Hotel from 1890-1907. Most accounts of the Bamboo's creation claim that Eppinger came up with it while he worked at the Grand, and that the name is a reference to Japan. But the Bamboo pre-dates Eppinger's stint in Yokohama by several years. The recipe appears in the St. Paul Daily Globe in 1886, and by 1893 it appeared on menus in New York as a Boston Bamboo. It was extremely popular, and a pre-bottled version was even sold.

This timeline doesn't mean that Eppinger didn't invent the Bamboo. Before he worked in Japan, he tended bar in San Francisco, and may have invented the drink there, which would explain its gradual journey eastward over the years. But it's clearly an even older drink than most people assume - another little piece of history you can sip on in your own home.

Bamboo

1 1/2 oz. Amontillado sherry (Lustau)
1 1/2 oz. blanc vermouth (Dolin)
1/2 tsp. simple syrup
1 dash Angostura bitters
1 dash orange bitters

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass with ice and stir until chilled. Strain into a coupe glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Recipe from Death & Co: Modern Classic Cocktails.
Historical information from Tuxedo No. 2, Cold Glass, and Imbibe!

Recipe Round-Up: The Negroni

Unless you're living under a rock (or, you know, not on social media), you probably know that it's Negroni Week! Sponsored by Imbibe and Campari, this is a week-long celebration of what is arguably the cocktail world's favorite drink. Bars around the country serve Negronis and Negroni variations, with proceeds from the drinks going to various charities. I'm only getting in on the tail end of the week, but if you're reading this before June 10th, see what venues are serving Negronis for a good cause near you here.

The Negroni and I have a tumultuous history. When I first tried one, I did not like it at all, and I said as much in my original Negroni post three years ago. In the cocktail world, thinking that Negronis are anything less than amazing is a fairly controversial opinion, but I was prepared to stand by it unless I magically developed a taste for them. And I did. Not magically, exactly; I think it was a combination of buying better sweet vermouth (and storing it properly in the refrigerator) and developing a taste for more bitter drinks in general. Other less polarizing cocktails eased me into the flavors of the Negroni, and before I knew it I was a convert. But I still understand how someone might not enjoy them, especially if they're new to Campari or cocktails in general. So whether you love a classic Negroni or are looking for your gateway drink, I've rounded up some Negroni variations in honor of this iconic equal-parts cocktail.

Assume that all of these should be stirred over ice and strained into a rocks glass over ice (though the last two can also be served in a coupe). Alternatively you can build them in the glass for an even easier cocktail.

Classic Negroni

1 oz. gin
1 oz. Campari
1 oz. sweet vermouth
Orange twist

The original: easy to remember, easy to make, and always great. Opinions will differ on the best gin and sweet vermouth for the job, but my go-tos are The Botanist or Wire Works and either Cocchi Vermouth di Torino or Carpano Antica Formula.

White Negroni

2 oz. gin
1 oz. Lillet Blanc
3/4 oz. Suze
Lemon twist

This variant from London bartender Wayne Collins is actually a lot more yellow than white, but let's not nitpick. Suze and Lillet make this Negroni a bit lighter but more herbal. It does diverge from the typical equal parts ratio, since Suze can be a bit overpowering. See my full post on this drink here.

Negroni Bianco 

1 oz. gin
1 oz. Luxardo Bitter Bianco
1 oz. blanc vermouth
Orange or grapefruit twist

This truly white Negroni is known as the Negroni Bianco, and it is my favorite drink on this list. In fact, it's easily one of my favorite drinks of all time. (Someone told me recently that I say that a lot on here. Well, tough. It's true, especially in this case.) It's beautifully light and balanced, still bitter but not overpowering. It would be a perfect introductory Negroni. I wish I'd had one years ago - I might have started liking Negronis sooner.

Special Negroni

1 oz. gin
1 oz. Aperol
1 oz. Lillet Blanc
Orange twist

I have a feeling this recipe exists under other names, but ever since I was served one at Canary Square in Boston, I call it the Special Negroni. This is the ultimate introductory Negroni - milder, sweeter, and a bit more citrusy, but still preserving all the crucial parts of the original.

Toffee Negroni

1 oz. aged rum
1 oz. Aperol
1 oz. Amontillado sherry
Grapefruit twist

I had never heard of this Negroni until I saw it in Kara Newman's equal parts cocktail book Shake. Stir. Sip. Created by Lynette Marrero, it has a deep toffee sweetness with just the right amount of bitterness.

Deconstructed Negroni

1 oz. gin
3/4 oz. dry vermouth
Dehydrated Campari
Orange twist

This one is a bit more of a novelty than a go-to recipe, but it seemed like I ought to include it. A bartender at Roosevelt in Denver told me how they dehydrated Campari and used it to serve a colorless Negroni with a Campari rim. I tried it at home and was pretty pleased with the result. See how to make it here.

Boulevardier

1 1/2 oz. bourbon
1 oz. Campari
1 oz. sweet vermouth

This is another drink that definitely goes on my list of all-time favorites. I find the juniper notes of gin one of the more polarizing things about a Negroni, and subbing in bourbon makes a smoother drink that's more akin to a Manhattan. Say what you will, but I'll order a Boulevardier over a Negroni any day. See my original post on the Boulevardier (from before I developed my undying love for this cocktail) here.

Old Pal

1 oz. rye
1 oz. Campari
1 oz. dry vermouth
Orange twist

A close relative of the Boulevardier, the Old Pal is an even lighter cocktail that uses dry vermouth instead of sweet. You can take it one step further and try a Pen Pal, which additionally swaps the Campari for Aperol.

I've seen a ton of other interesting Negroni variations this week... what's your favorite?

Flushing - Main Street

As I mentioned in my post about Crème de Cacao, the Flushing - Main Street from Tiger Mama was the cocktail that made me decide I needed to buy a bottle. I'd never seen chocolate liqueur in a cocktail with ingredients like Blanc Vermouth and Green Chartreuse, and I certainly didn't expect it to taste so good. While it is sweet, it's extremely well-balanced with nice hints of bitterness and citrus. If I didn't know there was crème de cacao in this cocktail, I'm not sure I would even guess it, but the chocolatey notes are definitely there once you look for them.

Though I did buy the crème de cacao, I had to make a couple of other substitutions in this recipe. It calls for Akasi White Oak Japanese Whiskey and Dolin Blanc vermouth, neither of which I own. For the whiskey, I subbed in a blended Scotch, and I used dry vermouth instead of blanc. I hope neither substitution is too egregious; I still find the cocktail very good. From what I've read about the flavor of the Akasi, my version is probably lighter and less smoky. There's definitely a color difference. And the dry vermouth is less sweet than the blanc, which actually suits me just fine, as this is already a pretty sweet cocktail.

History: The Flushing - Main Street comes from Tiger Mama in Boston's Fenway area. I got the recipe from Fred Yarm's blog Cocktail Virgin Slut. He says it's actually a Manhattan variation, and the name comes from a train station in Queens. The recipe was (probably) developed by Charles Coykendall, the bar manager at Tiger Mama. Here's a brief interview with him about his work there.

Flushing - Main Street

2 oz. Akashi White Oak Japanese Whiskey (I used blended Scotch)
1/2 oz. Dolin Blanc Vermouth (I used Dolin Dry)
1/4 oz. Green Chartreuse
1/4 oz. Tempus Fugit Crème de Cacao
1 dash Angostura bitters

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass with ice and stir until chilled. Strain into a coupe glass. Garnish with a flamed lemon twist.

Recipe from Cocktail Virgin Slut.

Slow Fade

It's been way too long since I posted a mezcal cocktail. I really like mezcal in a cocktail, whether it's the base or just there to provide a hint of smoke. When I first discovered how much I liked it, mezcal cocktails became my go-to at any bar. Maybe I overdid it, because it's been a while since I ordered or made one. But I will happily break this trend with the Slow Fade.

This cocktail makes brilliant use of smoky mezcal, pairing it with bitter Campari, blanc vermouth, and just a hint of elderflower liqueur for sweetness. A grapefruit twist gives it a beautiful hint of citrus. Honestly, while I tend to avoid grapefruit juice in cocktails - I just don't like the flavor - a grapefruit twist can have a serious impact on a drink. Interestingly, two of the other three cocktails I've made that use one (the Earthbound and the Division Bell) are tequila- and mezcal-based respectively, and include Aperol, Campari's close cousin. I guess the flavors just work together. This cocktail is more spirit-forward and less citrusy than either of those, but they definitely form a nice little trio.

A note on the vermouth in this recipe. It calls for blanc vermouth, which is different from dry vermouth. It's lighter, sweeter, and less herbal. And I don't have a bottle. Dry vermouth is a fair substitute, but it is going to change the flavor of the final product. But - I can confidently report based on how quickly I'm working my way through this cocktail - it's still really, really good with dry.

One day I'll own every bottle I could possibly want, but until then, we must soldier on.

History: The Slow Fade was created by Henry Prendergast and Robby Haynes at Analogue in Chicago.

Slow Fade

1 oz. mezcal
1 oz. blanc vermouth
1 oz. Campari
1/8 oz. St. Germain (3/4 tsp.)
1 dash Angostura bitters

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass. Stir with ice until chilled. Strain into a rocks glass over one large ice cube. Garnish with a grapefruit twist.

Recipe from Imbibe.