Fee Brothers

October In The Chair

October in the chair

This drink gets it’s name from one of the inestimable Mr. Gaiman’s stories.  You can find it in his collection of short fiction, Fragile Things, which you almost certainly should own, if you don’t already.  It’s a tale about the months, and what they do when they get together, and about loneliness and friendship, and all sorts of things besides.

Truth be told, I was struggling to name this drink, but it felt like Autumn, but just the start of it, when it’s still hot at times, and cold a few hours later.  There, in the midst of the thoughts of the start of Autumn that this drink brought out, I was reminded of this story, and it seemed fitting for the cocktail, though the story is, I think, much better.

It’s a simple drink, but built on a hard to come by ingredient for most of us.  I, fortunately have a couple of bottles of the core ingredient, thanks to some very generous and all around wonderful friends that brought me a cache from the Pacific Northwest; for which I am incredibly thankful.  The recipe is as follows:

  • 2 parts Stone Barn Brandyworks‘ unoaked oat whiskey
  • 3/4 parts Grand Marnier
  • 5 dashes of Fee Brothers’ Old Fashioned Bitters
  • a splash sweet vermouth (Carpano Antica in this case)

Stone Barn makes some great stuff, from the few spirits I’ve been fortunate enough to try.  I was given my first bottle of their very excellent unoaked oat whiskey by some friends that had recently relocated from Portland, where the distillery is located, to Redmond.  After raving about it, a couple of my favorite people brought me some bottles when they were in town this September visiting for Dragon Con from their new home in Portland.  It is an incredibly rich drink, with a strong oatmeal taste, and a very pleasant abrasive note, if that makes any sense.  It’s a particular spirit, when it comes to mixing, but plays very well with other warm tones, and loves being paired with sweet vermouth.

Accordingly, the Grand Marnier plays very well with the oat whiskey, and the rich, warmer notes of this cognac based orange liqueur are amplified by this pairing.  The raw bracing characteristic of the oat whiskey dampen the sweetness of the Grand Marnier, so it’s not too syrup-sweet.  The Fee Brothers’ Old Fashioned bitters, and their spicy, cinnamon heavy flavor adds to the mix very nicely.  I started sipping on this drink with just these ingredients, and was thoroughly enjoying it, but it felt like it was missing something, some further depth.  A single splash of Carpano Antica added everything that this was missing, in my opinion.

What you end up with is a drink that evokes the feeling of cool night air, damp fallen leaves, and the comforting smell of an old, worn leather jacket and a fire’s promise of warmth, and the tales told by friends around it.  Or, at least that’s what I get from it.

The Bitter Truth

Bitter Truth

I was thinking of having a Sazerac tonight, but sadly am lacking a bottle of rye currently.  While a little saddened by this fact, it did make me think of Dale de Groff’s wonderful personal take on the Sazerac from his book The Essential Cocktail (a fantastic book that you should probably have in your library, or nestled between bottles on your bar).  In his twist on this classic cocktail, he mixes equal parts rye and cognac, which is actually a half step between the original recipe that called for cognac only, and the modern rye based drink.  That got me to thinking about fixing an original brandy-based Sazerac, as I had a bottle of cognac at hand.  Certainly, it’ll be a sweeter drink than the rye based version, and while I’m not opposed to that, I started thinking about how I could balance that sweetness out, as well as how it work if I decided to forgo the absinthe.

My first thought on the latter was not very well, honestly.  So, what to do?  Well, if we take the absinthe out of the equation, do we still have something solid to go with?  So we’re now looking at brandy, a combination of bitters and sugar, with some citrus as a garnish.  Okay, that’s certainly workable, but we still have a drink that’s going to trend towards the sweet, without a balancing flavor, and I wasn’t in the mood for something too sweet.

And then I saw the bottle of Cynar, sitting behind the brandy.  Cynar is an Italian bitter liqueur made from various herbs and plants, chief amongst them being the artichoke.  I know what you’re thinking; an artichoke liqueur, that sounds ghastly.  Believe me, I was of the same opinion when I first heard of it.  But Cynar is a wonderfully bitter, and boy do I mean bitter, apéritif, and is an excellent way of imparting bitterness to a drink without adding a lot of complicated flavors that will overpower things.  That said, it would certainly do well to counteract the sweetness of cognac, and serve to give a focal point to this cocktail: bitterness.  With the extra bitterness from the Cynar, replacing the lemon twist called for in the Sazerac with a bit of orange peel seemed a decent thought, as I know from one of my favorite cocktails coined by a good friend makes good use of pairing orange and Cynar.

So, in the end I wound up with the following in my glass, and I have to say I’m well pleased with the delightfully bitter drink.

  • 2 parts cognac
  • 0.5 parts Cynar
  • 3 dashes of Peychaud’s bitters
  • 3 dashes of Fee Brother’s Old Fashioned bitters
  • 1 bar spoon sugar
  • a large orange peel

To start off, I combined the bitters and sugar in an old-fashioned glass and started to mix them into a thin paste.  I then added the Cynar and continued to stir until I had a nice homogenous solution of bitters, liqueur and sugar.  I then added the cognac and a single large piece of orange peel and stirred for a few seconds more before adding a single large piece of ice.

For those that haven’t played with Peychaud’s bitters, this wonderful gentian based bitters created by the estimable New Orleans by way of Haiti apothecary, Antoine Amédée Peychaud carries with it hints of cherry and anise, and is sweeter than many typical bitters.  Combining this with the rich, spicy, cinnamon tinged Old Fashioned bitters from the good people of Fee Brothers, brings some nice, complex flavors to this drink.  The predominant note is bitter, a result of the aforementioned bitters, but primarily from the Cynar.  The sugar and cognac give a sweet finish  in the mouth that outlasts the bitterness that hits the front of your tongue.  The orange gives a brightness to the drink, and plays very well with the warm spicy notes from the Fee Brothers Old Fashioned bitters.

A note on the ice: I have four different types of ice trays / molds that I use, from tiny cubes all the way up to large spheres that nearly fill an old-fashioned glass.  For this drink I chose to use the largest option, the massive sphere, for a couple of reasons.  First and foremost, the larger piece of ice and its increased surface area means it’s slower to melt, which is critical for this drink.  This is a sipping cocktail, and if I used smaller pieces of ice, before I was halfway through it, my drink would be tragically watered down.  Secondly, using a larger hunk of ice also means a more moderately cooled drink.  Again, smaller ice would have chilled the drink more over time, and the bitterness and subtle flavors of the bitters would have been lost in the cold.

The Briarpatch

Briarpatch

This drink, or at least its bones, has been knocking around in my head since before I launched Experiments From The Bar.  I’ve jotted down or typed out a couple of variations, but never put any of them together, because they just didn’t feel right.  This evening, in an attempt to be a good husband, I gave the living room a good dusting.  I was in the midst of wiping all the bottles from the bar down with a wet rag when I picked up the bottle of crème de cassis and thought tonight’s as good as any to try out the Briarpatch.

The core ingredients have remained the same in all the iterations of the potential recipe: bourbon and crème de cassis.  The other ancillary ingredients, which in the end define the drink, have shifted around.  Bitters, certainly a must, but which?  Something herbal, as well, that seems right.  That last bit ran the range from an absinthe wash, to a dash of crème de menthe, to Amaro.  What about a mixer?  Soda water?  No, that’ll just dilute things down without adding anything.  With no mixer, the crème de cassis might come on too strong.

That gives you some idea of how I end up thinking through a drink recipe, but I’m sure you’re more interested in the final recipe.  In the end, I tackled the herbal and bitters question with a single ingredient, Peychaud’s bitters, which brings some anise and dark fruit notes to the drink without being overpowering.  I did decide a mixer was needed, and my recent infatuation with Fever-Tree saw the addition of their ginger ale.  In the end, the final recipe turned out to be:

  • 2 parts Buffalo Trace bourbon
  • 0.75 parts crème de cassis
  • 4 dashes Peychaud’s bitters
  • 2 dashes Fee Brothers’ old fashioned bitters
  • Topped with Fever-Tree ginger ale

All ingredients were combined over a single, large piece of ice and lightly stirred.  This prevents the drink from getting to chilly, which would alter the flavor, particularly of the crème de cassis, losing some of the faint sourness that cordial carries.