So this week I decided to experiment with what was reportedly one of Hemingway’s favorites that he contributed to a celebrity book of cocktails way back in 1935, Death in the Afternoon: a heady, boozy concoction of absinthe and Champagne. No, the roses are not included–and if you didn’t catch the reference, Death in the Afternoon is also the title Hemingway gave to a nonfiction book he wrote about bullfighting. I assure you, no blood was shed in the making of this cocktail.
Now, I am the first to admit that I am not a fan of licorice, which is the predominant flavor in absinthe. I’ve had some brands where the licorice is toned down and the flavor very bright. (For example, in the truly excellent Amerique 1912 Absinthe Verte distilled, amazingly, in Milwaukee and if you’re wondering, the Absinthe Rouge gets its color from hibiscus. That, alone, makes me want to try it.)
I’ve also had some very heavy, complex absinthes, such as the one I chose, St. George’s Absinthe Verte (frankly, because I’m a fan of their gins).
Well, absinthe is a pretty powerful spirit to begin with, anywhere from 90-148 proof, and St. George’s packs quite a punch: 60% ABV. On the other hand, Amerique seems more subtle even though it’s a little higher ABV (63%), and I have a hunch that’s because the spirit is not as intensely flavored with so many other botanicals. Yes, you must like licorice to enjoy absinthe either on its own or mixed with something like Champagne (by the way, absinthe clouds when exposed to water because of anise, fennel, and star anise–talk about licorice overload–which come out of solution). But it is possible to include absinthe in a more complex cocktail–say, the utterly wonderful Corpse Reviver #2 that I made a while back–and not taste a lick of licorice.
Here, though . . . it’s all about the absinthe, which can truly overpower this drink. In fact, I think that Hemingway was only cutting the absinthe a tad so he could drink more of these (his prescription was that one should drink three to five of these slowly). Me, one was my limit. Don’t get me wrong; this was a really interesting drink. I found myself puzzling over all the different aromas and tastes: lots of lemon and pepper and something else very . . . grassy. Some herb that might have been sage or rosemary.
Now we all know that absinthe got quite the bad reputation and was banned by the U.S. in 1912. This was only recently lifted . . . around 2007, if I recall right. Anyway, the reason is, of course, because instead of making people see the “green fairy” when they drank a bit too much of this stuff, they started seeing a lot of other, scarier things because thujone, a natural distillate of wormwood–and the ingredient that makes absinthe what it is–made you bloody hallucinate. (Poor thujone: what a bad rep this compound’s gotten, but don’t think it’s only in wormwood. That nice chicken you’re about to rub with sage? It’s in the herb, too.)
ANYWAY, the verdict about this drink: did I enjoy it? Yes . . . but I would choose a less peppery absinthe next time. Would I suggest you drink three to five of these? Not unless you’ve got a designated driver to help you upstairs and pour you into bed. Me, one was my limit.
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And on to a far less historied topic, my Sunday’s cake: Carrot-Walnut w/Lemon Cream Cheese Glaze.
Here’s what I can say: all those comments/reviews where they cry shame on Epicurious? They’re right to do so. Don’t get me wrong; this is a very fine recipe, but one to which you have to make a few tweaks. For example, you could make this cake in a 9-10 cup pan and be just fine because it doesn’t rise much. Secondly, I used a full cup of nuts (a mix of almonds, walnuts and pecans because that’s what I had lying around), upped the carrots to two cups, and used .5 cup EVOO instead of .75 cup. Instead, I creamed a quarter cup of butter with .5 cup sugar first and then went ahead and added the eggs and yada, yada. (It really does pay to read reviews and learn from other’s mistakes.) Instead of so much cinnamon, which I thought would be just too overpowering, I added only 2.5 tsp and then put in a tsp of Yemen N. 10 from La Boite (apologies for the lack of an accent), a lovely mix of ginger, cardamon and cinnamon that a daughter was sweet enough to give me for a birthday a year or so back. If you do not know La Boite’s spices, beg someone to buy an assortment. You will not regret this.
Anyway, I think the cake will taste just fine; the smell is heavenly, and in my oven, it was done in 35 minutes. (So forget the recipe; 40-45 minutes, and you’ll have the moral equivalent of a roofing shingle.) As for the glaze . . . again, the recipe is incorrect. As written, you will have nothing remotely approaching anything pourable. In addition, if you want to keep that bright lemony taste, you need to add more lemon juice and zest, not more heavy cream. I ended up juicing two lemons, so . . . about a quarter cup of juice plus the zest of one lemon instead of a tsp. (Yes, you read that right. Trust me, though: you want bright and lemony.) I used only a half cup of confectioner’s sugar, too, and instead of 3 oz. of regular cream cheese, I used 4 oz. of whipped at room temperature. Even so, this still remained somewhat gloppy, which isn’t a glaze, really, but more of a . . . well, a glop that you need to sort of pour, sort of spoon. But it does taste fabulous, and who cares about presentation, right?
Of course, the husband hung around, hinting that, hey, you’re not really going to use all that, are you? I didn’t. He finished the rest, and called it dinner. You know, whatever makes him happy. . . But sometimes I think, Buddy, you want to lick the bowl? That’ll be a puppy, please.
Hey, manum manus lawate: that’s my motto.
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And, finally, Last Listers Bree Despain and Sarah Cross are featured in a terrific interview on YA Interrobang that you absolutely have to check out. In particular, pay attention to what Bree says about relying on the kindness of strangers and what happens when that publisher’s purse goes away. Guys, she’s exactly right. We really could use your help here.
