Sunday’s Cake, Friday’s Cocktail, and That Call You Never Want To Take

I’ve been on the road for most of the last week, so I didn’t do up a Friday’s cocktail until Sunday, although I had the Vidalia-version of the Old-Fashioned at Vidalia, this fabulous Southern-style restaurant in D.C., on Wednesday. This is the second time I’ve eaten there as well as the second time I’ve sampled this particular cocktail, and let me tell you: it is just as complex and interesting and tasty as it was the first time.

I think I’ve mentioned before that the old-fashioned—perhaps more properly called an old-fashioned whiskey cocktail—is the first recorded instance of a cocktail anywhere. There’s some discrepancy in terms of the exact year (one source says 1803, when Jefferson was in the White House, while another cites an 1806 article), but both referred to the drink as a bittered sling that contained spirits (probably rye or Irish whiskey), bitters, water, and sugar. This new-fangled invention didn’t have a great rep for a very long time either, precisely because it contained bitters, which are very potent alcohol-based herbal preparations and were then used as medicine. So, to paraphrase Ted Haigh’s take on the history, you were being encouraged to drink something that was the moral equivalent of dumping Nyquil into beer or whiskey.

Still, that didn’t keep this basic recipe from becoming quite popular, particularly as people shifted from drinking all bloody day long (without their tea, the Founding Fathers were essentially soused from the moment they awoke because the only things they had to drink were either water, which could be downright dangerous, or hard cider) to the late afternoons and evenings. Only thirty years later, cocktails could be had at racetracks, boxing rings, polo grounds, poker houses, gambling venues—all very bad boy pursuits—but gradually made their way into more respectable society. In fact, in his very entertaining history of the old-fashioned, Albert Schmid mentions that his mother, who both adored the drink and felt that people’s personalities came out in how they wanted their cocktail mixed, thought the martini was just too dangerous a drink.   Another very fine article on the drink can be found on Slate.

The first recorded use of the name, old-fashioned, came in 1881 from the Pendennis Club, a Kentucky gentlemen’s joint, and was made with bourbon. There are, however, as many recipes for old-fashioneds as you could possibly want, including early ones made with gin and rum. Nowadays, though, an old-fashioned is made with either bourbon, rye, or—something that seems to be specific only to Wisconsin—brandy. (In fact, ask for a Korbel and soda, and the bartender’s likely to ask you how life is in Wisconsin. It seems that the state just didn’t get the memo that, these days, it’s either rye or bourbon.)

Now I’ve made old-fashioneds before—I like mine not-too-sweet and without soda or all that ridiculous fruit—and used both bourbon and rye. Both varieties are good and have their own taste profiles, but I think I’m beginning to lean more towards rye because I want to be able to taste some of the other flavorings. Bourbon tends to have a tad more bite and body, which I think would be too much for something like the Vidalia version which calls for Dickel’s rye, honey syrup, Dancing Pines chai liqueur, and a dash of Abbot’s bitters over ice and garnished with an orange peel. I didn’t have Dickel’s so used Templeton (though I might try Old Scout Smooth Ambler next time around; this is an almost 100-proof, 7-year old rye with almost no bite to it at all and probably the smoothest rye I’ve ever had). Dancing Pines chai liqueur is also tough to find; I finally tracked down a bottle from a place in California—but it adds a wonderfully spicy, smoky taste to the drink. I also used Reagan’s Orange Bitters instead of Abbot’s because . . . well, because I don’t have a bottle of Abbot’s, and I figured that with all the orange accents, the Reagan’s would be just fine.

The verdict: highly recommended; this is one lovely, complex, spicy cocktail.

Now that I’ve also got Schmid’s book, I might just give those new recipes a spin.  I’m also hot to figure out why it is that brandy is such a Wisconsin thing.

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Keeping to the theme of spicy, Sunday’s Cake is Moroccan Olive-Oil Spice with Cinnamon-Cardamon Glaze. What caught my eye in the recipe was the use of ras el-hanout, a terrific Moroccan spice mix whose precise ingredients differ depending upon who you are and what your family likes. If you do any Indian cooking at all (I do), then think of this as the cousin to garam masala, a mélange of cardamom, cumin, fenugreek, paprika, cinnamon, mace, etc. I have always used ras el-hanout in savory dishes, never a cake, but thought . . . sure, why not? Mine is a store-bought preparation and when I used my nose, I thought there might be a tad too much hot paprika in it so I cut that by adding about an eighth of a cup more sugar and used the zest of an entire large orange, not just a tsp. In addition, I didn’t toast my spices but simply put them in a small Pyrex dish and slipped that into my preheated oven for about ten minutes.

Well, I can tell you that the batter is creamy and flavorful and won the hubby’s approval as did the glaze, which is just terrific although a huge caveat here: the glaze recipe, as written, is simply too thick and would never be pourable.  In fact, I had to add about a quarter cup of cream to make it work, and even then it was much too thick.  So I had to make another batch, which was then too thin and so when poured over the still-warm cake bloody melted.  I’m so pissed.  The cake looks atrocious, and I’m almost ashamed to let it out of the house.  But the husband is insistent (and the house does smell great).  So . . . okay.  Still. It was so pretty before.  Now, this is only kind of embarrassing.  Nevertheless, I would make this again but play around with that glaze some more.  It really does taste wonderful, but the recipe’s just wrong.

Wish I’d taken a before picture.  That was one beautiful cake.

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And in other news:

As I said, I was traveling this week. Spent time in D.C. and then bopped back into Illinois where I hung with some terrific kids at Northwood Junior High for the day before speaking to teachers and librarians at The Book Stall in Winnetka. Signed a ton of books for kids and adults, and so that always makes me happy.  Unfortunately, I only have two pictures so far, but better than none: me with Book Stall’s Robert McDonald and then me with Robert again and Gay Lynn, a lovely teacher who’s also a writer.

Looking ahead, I’ll be on Iceybooks this Tuesday, with the first in two or three posts I’ll be doing on Dickens Mirror and the more general topic of Egmont’s closing in which I’ll talk about the phone call you never want to take from an editor. The site will also be hosting a giveaway.

Which reminds me: don’t forget to enter my Goodreads giveaway for your chance at a personalized copy of White Space.

I think that a few other Egmont Last Listers will also be posting stuff in the near future, so I’ll keep you’all abreast of that.

Until next time, remember that life is short.  So eat cake, have a cocktail, and keep in touch.