The Frisco

Golden Gate Bridge. Photo by Niall Kennedy, on flickr.

One of the features of the craft cocktail revolution that is intriguing to me is the search for the original recipe of a cocktail. Now, I'm not a fetishist for authenticity, either in my cocktails or elsewhere, so it's all a bit mysterious to me. But I admire their enthusiasm and dedication to tracking down the One True Recipe. This New York Times article actually provides a good example of trying to balance the quest for authenticity with the quest for a tasty beverage. Unlike noir classics, which start with a girl, this starts with a drink:

Last month I dined in a Los Angeles restaurant called Test Kitchen, which provides space for chefs from other establishments to try out new menus or put dishes through trial runs. On the night I was there the proprietors of Red Medicine, a progressive Vietnamese place that was getting ready to open, were introducing their food and cocktails, including a drink identified as the No. 15 and described as a mix of rye, Bénédictine and lemon. I had a No. 15 early in the seven-course dinner and several more as the meal unfolded because the drink so nicely matched the food and so beautifully hit the spot.

Of course, like any good journalist, Bruni needs to get to the bottom of this cocktail. He quickly found out that the No. 15 was a Frisco. Or like a Frisco. After a bit of research, he finds that the Frisco is spoken of in a variety of ways. The principal question is whether it's made from bourbon or rye.

The answer is vague and depends on how far you travel back in time. This I learned from Jim Meehan, a cocktail sage at PDT in the East Village. When I called him about the Frisco, he was immediately familiar with it, though like Ms. Saunders he went through a moment of rye-bourbon befuddlement, which he was determined to resolve.
“Call me back in 45 minutes,” he said.
That was all the time he needed to riffle through his research books and place a few strategic calls of his own. He said that a Frisco recipe from the early part of the 20th century mentioned whiskey without specifying what type, and Bénédictine. Frisco recipes from the 1940s, he said, specifically call for bourbon.

But it doesn't end there! Bruni tries a number of combinations of rye, bourbon, Bénédictine, and lemon juice,  and in his opinion, it's 1.5 oz of rye, 1/4 oz Bénédictine, and 1/2 oz lemon juice. Just for the ease of measuring (really!), I'm going to try the second suggested recipe of 2 oz rye, 1/2 oz Bénédictine, and 1/2 oz lemon juice.

What a great drink! The lemon juice, Bénédictine, and rye all blend together really well, with the lemon juice removing the sweetness of the Bénédictine, and the rye providing an excellent base. If I had any complaints, it would be that this drink is a bit acerbic. When I try it again, I might use Bruni's recipe, but switch the proportion of the Bénédictine and the lemon juice. Alternatively, you could try using Meyer lemons in place of the lemon juice.

Small Plates 05.31.12

Vinoteca

Rumors looks like it's getting a new floor. Probably a good idea. [PoP]

Pho 14 is opening a new place in Adams Morgan. [Young & Hungry]

Panera in Columbia Heights has a new patio starting this weekend. [New Columbia Heights]

There's a new cocktail lounge coming to Penn Quarter near Fuel. [PoP]

Trinidad Sour

I recently made some orgeat, and in researching drinks to use it in, I came across a number of intriguing options. One of the most intriguing was the Trinidad Sour. You rarely see drinks that require any more than a few dashes of non-potable bitters, let alone a full ounce. There's a reason they're called non-potable! But I figured I should give it a shot.

It turned out really well. The sweetness of the orgeat compensates for the bitterness of the bitters, and the sourness of the lemon juice makes quite a complex drink. It tastes very herbal, with a sour aftertaste (but in a fun way!) A very nice drink, and a good change from the ordinary. Recipe after the jump.

Small Plates: 05.30.12

Bistro Bohem, in Shaw

The new ramen shop in Adams Morgan, Sakuramen, is a great step forward. [Serious Eats]

Daikaya Ramen Shop is making progress next to Graffiato. [PoP]

Board game bar The Board Room is scheduled to open in August in Dupont. [Washingtonian]

Pig-centric restaurant The Pig now has a pig's blood ice cream sundae. [Young & Hungry]

Small Plates: 05.29.12

A Belgian bistro will be coming to the old Duchess & the Queen spot in Adams Morgan. [PoP]

DC Reynolds is now open for lunch from 12-3 and has a great happy hour. [New Columbia Heights]

So, Pecan Oil is apparently the new superoil. Low in saturated fat, and you can deep fry with it. [Serious Eats]

Paint and drink spot Merlot's Masterpiece is coming to U St. [PoP]

Small Plates: 05.25.12

Pitango Gelato is kicking it up a notch with their new Brioche Con Gelato. [Serious Eats]

Gina has a name for her soda shop in Union Market: Buffalo and Bergen. [Washingtonian]

Shockingly, POM pomegranate juice does not cure cancer or save dolphins. [The Atlantic]

Casa Nonna, located south of Dupont Circle, closed this week. [Young & Hungry]

Fall-ing for Hemmingway

Now that I finally have some homemade Orgeat, I figured I should use it in a cocktail. There are lots of options. I wanted to save the traditional Mai Tai for when my wife was around, and for some reason, a lot of the other recipes I have laying around call for obscene amount of Angostura bitters. But the Plate recently posted a recipe that called for a reasonable amount of Angostura bitters. I still don't have any, but I'm more willing to substitute when an ingredient isn't a full ounce.

The first thing I noticed about this drink is how sweet it is. It's very good, and the lime juice helps balance it out, but between the rum and the orgeat, it's really sweet. After the sweetness, the main flavor I get is the allspice dram. I think I can take some nuts between the sweetness and the allspice, but that could just be my imagination. If I make this again, I'll probably up the lime juice to an ounce, or perhaps add more bitters. Recipe after the jump.