Eccentric Flower:201006/The Bourbon Grifter

When I was a teenager with a driver's license, I developed a tendency to go down to New Orleans, whenever propriety and my mother allowed, to find such entertainment as was not available in the sedate, tedious streets of Baton Rouge. Mind you, I was not all that rebellious a teenager and also my thrills were cheap; it was fine entertainment, I felt, just to wander around Bourbon St. watching the drunks. (Note that at the time I did no drinking myself, not because it was forbidden, but 1) because I generally couldn't afford exorbitant Bourbon St. tourist drink prices and 2) I have always been a sober driver and I knew I had to drive an hour home at the end of the night.)

On Bourbon St. then, and probably now (and probably until the Apocalypse), one could find all manner of dubious folk hoping to score a quick buck or two with cheap bar bets - the sort of thing which cannot even be called a short-con game because that would give too much credit. An old classic is the fellow who wants to bet you a buck that he can tell you where you got your shoes. (You got your shoes on Bourbon St, natch - that is to say, for those not skilled in American patois, you are currently standing on Bourbon St. at this precise moment in time. Alternative answers: you got your shoes on the sidewalk, on the ground, and, of course, on your feet.)

Like the Bourbon St. grifter, this cocktail is essentially a phony. It is not the famous Sazerac cocktail, but it is close enough for jazz. Its major differences are that it is shaken for a uniform mixture and that there is none of this fancy-schmancy business with pouring the anisette over sugar. If, instead of shaking, you serve this in an Old Fashioned glass, stirred with a couple of cubes of ice, it will also be acceptable; you can even add a little superfine or bar sugar to the first step if you must. Many people will want more sweetness in this drink, whereas I, when first trying out a traditional Sazerac recipe, thought to myself, "This would be great if I could just cut down on the sugar."

I found that, as I passed the age of twenty-five, I began to steadily lose my tolerance for sweetness in alcoholic drinks. Now, more than fifteen years later, I find that I only want enough sweetness in a mixed drink to point up the sour, dry, or bitter flavors that are the main attraction for me. If I want a sweetish drink, straight bourbon is usually sweet enough for me, or a mixed rum drink - I find all rums sweet, and many whisk(e)ys. Hence yesterday's Wry Smile, which is really an excellent concoction, and yet one that I imagine not more than one person in four would be willing to touch with an eleven-foot pole. Maybe when I write my cocktail book, I'll call it Good Cocktails You'll Never Actually Drink.

All this is by way of saying that this drink, like the previous one, is not for everyone. As a general rule, if you like both of its main components individually then there's a good chance you will like the combination; if, conversely, you have tried the two main parts individually and do not care for either or both of them, give this beverage a pass.

A word about anisettes. These all taste like licorice and there's no way around that. Some people can't stand them; I myself have to be in the right mood for them. I would imagine (but have not rigorously tested) that you can use any anisette you like in this drink. This would presumably cover not just "pastis" such as Pernod and Ricard, but also the oddities like anis del mono, and the various true and false absinthes. But it's worth noting that a true (or decent false) absinthe is going to have two characteristics that Pernod et al will not: 1) it will be slightly more bitter, and 2) it will be a hell of a lot stronger. In fact, it may be the strongest thing in your liquor cabinet.

This evening, knowing that the bottle of Ricard was runing low, I bought a bottle of Absente, whose punning name will tell you that this is one of the false absinthes, essentially the same as a real absinthe except it contains no wormwood. I made this cocktail, which I have made many times with Ricard, with the Absente instead. Only after realizing that it was having far more of an effect on my demeanor than my average evening cocktail did I go down and check some labels.

Do remember that the average strength of base liquor is eighty proof to ninety proof, or 40% to 45% alcohol. (Bombay Sapphire is 96 proof. Undiluted "cask strength" whisk(e)ys can be anywhere in the 120-130 proof range.) Ricard is ninety proof. Absente - wait for it - is 110 proof, or more than half alcohol, technically making it an "overproof" spirit.

In fact, I am one of the people who holds to the school of thought that all the hysteria about wormwood is exactly that. After all, vermouth has contained wormwood forever (it's the literal meaning of "vermouth," which comes from the German "vermut," wormwood), and nobody has ever tried to ban vermouth. I hold, as do others, that in fact the many dire stories of the damage done to individuals and society by absinthe were due to its alcohol content, not any of its ingredients.

Anyway, the point of all this is, if you are using a good false absinthe, or, god help you, if you have paid the money for a true absinthe and don't mind sacrificing some of it to a cocktail, do watch your step. It will improve the drink if you like that bitter tang, but may very well have you on the floor. If you don't care for the extra slight bitterness or for being on the floor, then use Ricard or some such instead. And if you don't like the taste of any anisettes, why are you still reading this?

The last point is the matter of Peychaud's bitters. There is not really any credible substitution. You could get away with orange bitters, but it wouldn't be the same. Under no circumstances use Angostura. If you like bourbon drinks (Peychaud's also improves Old Fashioneds and Manhattans immeasurably), it is worth your trouble to find a bottle of this substance.

The Bourbon Grifter

To serve one:

3/4 ounce anisette of some kind, as discussed above
Two or three good dashes Peychaud bitters from the bottle
3 ounces good bourbon (or rye) whiskey

Put ice in a cocktail shaker, add the anisette of your choice, and swirl the ice around in the shaker a bit. This will dilute the anisette and turn it cloudy. Add bitters and whiskey in that order. Shake vigorously until quite cold. Strain into cocktail glass and consume with care, especially if using an absinthe.