The Advocate Cocktail Series #6: American Werewolf
American Werewolf
Each year when quince comes into season, we order a case and make syrup for one of our favorite spring drinks at Comal, the Quince Essential, and every year we never make enough. By the time we’re ready for another batch, the window for fresh quince has closed, and we’re forced to shuffle the menu and wait for next year. This time I planned ahead and ordered two cases, which in retrospect may have been a bit much. The end result was 60 liters of quince syrup that would last us through the dog days of summer, when berries and stone fruit abound. Bringing half to the Advocate was more of a house-keeping decision than shrewd menu planning. Joanna, Comal’s bar lead, emerged from the walk-in refrigerator one day, handed me a large container of quince syrup on my way out the door, and said something to the effect of: “here, get this out of my way and use it for something.”
Always up for a challenge, I began to think about gin, and the limitations one runs into when only using rum or agave spirits in cocktails. The Advocate doesn’t face these obstacles, and I remembered wanting to try a botanical spin on Comal’s smokey, spicy, quince cocktail with gin and Chartreuse: basically a locally-sourced, seasonal Last Word.
Tarragon always infuses nicely into gin, and adds a slight anise flavor, offsetting the floral notes provided by Meyer lemon juice - we substituted Meyers for the usual Lisbon lemons called for in a traditional Last Word cocktail as they are currently in season, locally abundant, and delicious. The quince syrup lends depth to the cocktail, providing warmth and roundness, with a touch of earth and spice to ground the high-toned accents of herb and citrus.
When considering the predominant flavors of a fruit as subtle as quince, I reconsidered it’s earthiness as it relates to terroir. The drink already included locally-sourced ingredients, so it made sense to try it with a gin made from locally-sourced botanicals-and it worked. Lance Winters from St. George spirits got the idea for his Terroir gin from numerous hikes in the East Bay hills - an epiphany I can relate to as Comal’s redwood bough-infused rum cocktail was devised on those same trails. The distinct smell of bay laurel, eucalyptus and redwood is one of those childhood olfactory imprints so vivid it can transport me to a place in time in an instant. Tasting Lance’s gin is the closest liquid approximation to these memories and I love it. Countless batches in, he still harvests fresh bay laurel, along with other botanicals, from Mt. Tam himself - as much hands-on quality control as an excuse to get out of the office.
Chartreuse is one of those irreplaceable cocktail crutches every bartender uses because it’s impossible to replicate, and lends itself so well to anything herbal or botanical. And while much has been written about its ancient recipe made by monks sworn to secrecy, or that the liqueur predates the color it’s named after, I’m more impressed by its irreplaceable flavor and myriad uses. Much like Campari, Heinz Ketchup or an Oscar Meyer hot dog, you almost don’t want to know the complete recipe because attempting to create that exact flavor is a fool’s errand - I’ve tried. Chartreuse is best utilized as a flavor bridge: connecting fruit, spice, citrus and heat in such a way that the individual elements can’t be discerned immediately, but leaves the palate guessing as the drink hits all corners of the taste spectrum. What makes the Last Word a modern classic is its simplicity of build compared to its intricacies of flavor; our locally sourced, seasonal derivation aims to be just that, simple, nuanced, and most importantly delicious.
Matthew McKinley Campbell
The Advocate Cocktail Series #5: Sopchoppy Sling
Sopchoppy Sling
Sugar is a polarizing commodity these days, and those of us behind bars are increasingly getting calls for cocktails devoid of any sweetening agent; which is akin to asking a chef for a really nice steak with no salt. As bartenders continue to focus on craft spirits, local produce and house-made ingredients in their drinks, they’ve become equally concerned with what is used to balance out these flavors, what actually makes a cocktail a cocktail by definition: the sweet stuff. When Chef Joe brought in a sample of his family’s cane syrup, pressed and kettle cooked from raw cane in the Florida panhandle (in Sopchoppy, to be exact), I’ve never seen a group of bartenders “ooh” and “aah” over something so delicious, yet would send your average Atkins dieter into an impromptu juice cleanse.
The flavor of Mt. Beasor Farm’s cane syrup is akin to roasted agave: earthly, vegetal, rich and unlike any cane syrup I’ve tasted from St. Barts to Brazil - it’s decidedly down home. The challenge in creating a cocktail to showcase such beautiful, subtle flavors, is of course to not overshadow them with layers of needless ingredients. A lime driven, caipirinha-styled cocktail seemed the best way to accent Mt. Beasor’s labor of love as both cachaça and cane syrup are made from pressing raw cane into juice once a year, at peak ripeness. While rum is made from molasses, a byproduct of manufacturing sugar, whole pressed cane spirits like agricole or cachaça convey the unique flavors of the environment where the cane was grown, ensuring no two are exactly alike. Avua cachaça is made four hours from Rio in the south of Brazil and smells unmistakably of bananas: waxy and green, with a touch of sweetness. In order to amplify the nose of the spirit, and tie into the terroir of the cane syrup, we chose a French-made liqueur of Brazilian bananas and spiked it with coconut to round out the tropical undertones.
At this point I realized we were one step away from an electric-colored frozen beach beverage a la the Piña Colada, but didn’t want to go full blown tiki as once again the aim was to let the cane flavor shine through. Since opening the Advocate in August, we’ve been sitting on a lemon verbena infusion from GM Corin’s backyard that never found a home on the initial drink menu, and this seemed the perfect place to insert an herbal component to balance out the predominating fruit flavors. Slightly bitter, but overwhelmingly bright at the forefront, verbena provided the perfect compliment for the sweet, mellow flavors of banana and coconut.
The result is a cocktail that passed our time-honored test for quaffability with flying colors: namely, could you easily down it in one go if you were about to miss your train? Tart lime and rich, earthy syrup balance the initial attack of un-aged sugar cane spirit, giving way to softer notes of tropical fruit through the mid palate, all tied together nicely by the bright herbal bitterness of verbena to finish.
Matthew McKinley Campbell