As I begin writing, the winner of the U.S. presidential election is not yet known for at least another 12 hours, and people across the political spectrum are going a little insane. Well, I’m happy to say that, wherever you fall on the political spectrum, we have a drink that will help take the edge off a loss and intensify the joy of a win — at least assuming your spiritual beliefs allow you to drink alcohol. It’s also the first of the post-WWII Tiki-inspired cocktail classics I’ve dared to take on here. Wish me luck.

I owe part of this week’s column to the good people at Cruzan Rum. Along with the tasty spiced rum we featured last week, they were kind enough to send me a bottle of their Cruzan Black Strap Rum to play with. My search for an appropriate cocktail led me directly to cocktail historian David Wondrich, whose all-dark rum-based version of this ultimate South Seas inspired classic seemed a perfect vehicle for the stuff.

I also, however, deemed it necessary to try another brand of dark rum. I went with my usual reasonably priced but tasty fall back, Whaler’s. I think this recipe, which is borrowed pretty heavily from Wondrich, minus an Esquire-mag typo or two, works pretty well with both rums — but with significant differences. More about that after the recipe.

The Mai Tai

2 ounces dark rum
1 ounce fresh squeezed lime juice
1/2 ounce orange curacao
1/2 ounce almond syrup (aka orgeat)
1/8-1/4 ounce simple syrup
1 mint sprig (highly advisable garnish)

Combine all the ingredients in a cocktail shaker with lots of ice. Shake like crazy and pour the whole thing, ice and all, into a well chiled Tom Collins or large rocks glass. Enjoy with or without a lovely tropical breeze. Toss in a sprig of fresh mint, if you’ve got it, and maybe one of your spent lime wedges, too.

****

The Mai Tai was not, we are told, invented anywhere really close to Tahiti but in the not-so-very tropical land of Oakland, California at the original Trader Vic’s and presumably by Mr. Vic’s himself. As presented here, it’s a lovely concoction but I can also say that your choice of dark rum will yield a considerable difference.

To be specific, Whaler’s Dark Rum is quite sweet — not quite like a liqueur but not far from something like Old Tom gin. A mai tai made with it is a lovely thing that will make you popular with a large crowd and will go down your own gullet very, very easily. On the other hand, Cruzan Black Strap Rum has a lovely molasses flavor and bouquet, but is much less sweet. The result is a more sophisticated and complex mai tai. It’s very nice, indeed, but sometimes a little sophistication goes a long way, so I’d consider upping the simple syrup quotient, though lord knows this thing has enough calories.

One more experiment you can try is toss in a very small amount of vanilla extract. The original mai tai was made with something called rock candy syrup, which was basically regular simple syrup with a tiny amount of vanilla flavor in it.

Oh, and as I finish this post, I know how the election turned out. It’s enough to drive an old bleeding heart like me not to drink, but I think I’ll have another mai tai anyway.

Today’s Drink of the Week is not named the Take 9 because mixologist Jesse Card tried eight variations before settling on his final project. In fact, it is named for the rather tasty spiced rum that his employers at Cruzan Rum, yet another Jim Beam brand, were kind enough to send me to play with. To be specific, Cruzan 9 Spiced Rum brings the following to the flavor party: allspice, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, juniper berry, mace, nutmeg, pepper and, my favorite, vanilla. For the record, the spice mace has no relationship to the teargas but is actually a more delicate variation on nutmeg. And, yes, I had to look that up.

I’m happy to say that these spices do socialize well together in Cruzan 9, which tastes pretty good all on its own and would perhaps work nicely with Coke or your favorite ginger ale, though I haven’t had the chance to experiment in that way yet. Still, thanks to Cruzan and Card I do have a pretty decent little cocktail — not maybe a classic in the making, I think, but not bad — to bring you this week.

The Take 9

1 1/2 ounces Cruzan 9 Spiced Rum
3/4 ounce dry vermouth
1/4 ounce Curacao
1/2 teaspoon grenadine
orange twist (garnish, and optional in my opinion)

Combine your rum, vermouth, and Curacao. The original recipe calls for you to stir the mixture for thirty seconds but, as usual, you have my full permission to shake.

Whichever method of mixing you select, strain into our old buddy, the chilled cocktail glass. Sip and contemplate the special blend of nine herbs and spices and why Cruzan Rum is so much more transparent about their blend than either KFC or the late Colonel Harlan Sanders.

***

I don’t have any other spiced rums on hand, so it’s not so easy for me to try this drink with other brands. However, as usual, I promise no one will bring legal action against you if experiment with other rums, even non-spiced ones. Also, you have my permission to leave out the orange rind twist garnish. I’m actually not convinced it presents a major improvement. It’s possible that the Take 9 is just one of those mixed drinks that does better sans garnish.

As start to I write this, I’ve just finished watching the third presidential debate and I’m contemplating the power of the Etch-a-Sketch. Just as Mitt Romney somehow made a significant slice of the electorate forget everything that happened prior to debate #1, now left-leaners like your humble tippler are hoping debates #2 and #3 will make everyone forget that first one.

And what does this have to do with today’s Drink of the Week? Well, let’s just say that after what I’ve been through the last few weeks, it’s time to move on — from the bourbon drinks I’ve been promoting here week after week and lots of other things besides. Also, this week, I’ve personally paid for every single ingredient. For this week, at least, we’re freebie free.

Today’s drink features a base spirit so classic it had all but disappeared until a few years back, and it’s one I’ve been dying to try for ages: Old Tom gin. It’s London dry gin’s much sweeter cousin which apparently includes a bit of simple syrup in the mix. Original Old Tom gins were apparently mostly gins that had sugar added to them to cover up some nasty flavors. Today’s very nice version — which really isn’t bad on its own — is from Hayman’s Distillers.

I was also rather taken with the name of today’s cocktail. I’ve been feeling like it’s time for a long-delayed return trip to my one-time near-second home of Las Vegas. If things go badly at the 21 and craps tables for me, and well they might, this drink could certainly help remove some of the sting.

The Casino

2 ounces Old Tom gin
1/4 ounce maraschino liqueur
1/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
2 dashes orange bitters
1 lemon twist (garnisth)

Combine the liquid ingredients in a cocktail shaker or mixing glass with lots of ice and stir vigorously. (You can shake if you like, and you know I usually like to shake, but here I really don’t find it necessary.) Pour into a chilled cocktail/martini glass, add lemon twist, and drink a toast to the right kind of big changes and better luck.

***
First of all, since I haven’t seen it in too many other places, I pretty much followed the lead of a 2008 blog post on Old Tom gin by England’s Jay Hepburn, but it should be noted there are other versions of this drink, in fact it can be tinkered with quite a bit.

For example, I know from my own experiments that this drink can also work very nicely with regular gin (I was using Beefeater), though I’m not sure if you still want to use the bitters. On the other hand, there is a super dry version of this drink that uses only dashes of the lemon juice and maraschino but throws in a cherry as the garnish. I’m sure that could work too and I might try it that way sometime.

On the other hand, the first time I made this, I forgot to use bitters with both the Old Tom and my London dry gin version and found it extremely drinkable. The casino seems to be a drink that can take an awful lot of abuse and not really be harmed. More proof that the house always wins.

Last month, I was faced with the challenge of coming up with a cocktail to justify those free bottles of Booker’s and Baker’s bourbon that the Jim Beam Small Batch folks so kindly sent my way. This week, I have another — and I think even better — cocktail usage for these justifiably widely praised high-proof and moderately pricey bourbons.

The Beam folks might insist that the best way to enjoy these bourbons is with just a splash of water or an ice cube, but I think they really work well in this week’s drink. It’s a bitters-free variation on the Manhattan (originally featured on BE here) that really comes into its own with a bourbon packed with flavor, and alcohol, than on an ordinary 80-90 proofer. It’s also about as simple as a cocktail gets.

The Honolulu

1 ounce bourbon
1 ounce dry vermouth
1 ounce sweet vermouth
Lemon twist (garnish)

Combine in the bourbon and vermouth in a cocktail shaker with plenty of ice. Depending on your preference, stir or shake (I shake) vigorously. Strain into a highly chilled cocktail glass, add the lemon twist, and drink. You may also ponder what the connection could possibly between this drink and the famed Hawaiian metropolis. I haven’t a clue.

****

At least using Booker’s or Baker’s, this is a very refined drink for people who enjoy a lot of intriguing flavors dancing across the tongue. While using the very high-proof Booker’s resulted in a gentle-yet-tongue tickling beverage with a subtly spicy flavor, I actually leaned towards the version I made with Baker’s. At 107 proof, Baker’s is practically children’s fare compared to the massive 128.5 power of Booker’s, but at least using the Martini vermouths I had on hand, the result was actually more complex and intriguing.

I did try to experiment with this drink by substituting Punt e Mes for the sweet vermouth and adding a Badabing cherry. You know how they say that most experiments fail? Stick with the traditional Honolulu. This is a cocktail that’s interesting enough to entertain the brain while powerful enough to (oh so pleasantly) dull it. No reason to mess with something this good.

Say goodnight, Gracie and Eleanor.

[Writer's note: I'd like to dedicate this post to my mother, Charlotte Bows Westal, who went on to the great Coconut Grove in the sky at age 84, shortly after this post was put together earlier this week. Mom was never a really a writer, a big drinker, or a connoisseur, but she knew the value of good grammar and a well-stocked bar -- even if she wasn't above pouring the cheap stuff into bottles of the good stuff or reading questionable bestsellers. She would have liked today's clip, too, I think. Maybe she even saw it on the big screen back in '39.]

As long as people keep sending me booze, I’ll continue to be open-minded regarding their cocktail suggestions. I have to warn, however, that today’s drink has probably one of the highest calorie counts of any drink I’ve made since last Christmastime. It is, however, also very tasty — probably not a coincidence.

Our beverage comes courtesy of the good folks who are promoting Kilbeggan Irish Whiskey, which I would describe as a stouter, less polite version of your basic Bushmills or Jameson. However, I should add that it’s a brand that’s been around since 1757, so while it might be relatively little known here in the States, it’s no newcomer to the field. For those who like their whiskey with a bit of a kick, it’s grand stuff and it does work extremely well in this recipe.

The Kilbeggan Dubliner

1 1/2 ounces Kilbeggan® Irish Whiskey
1 ounce sweet vermouth
3/4 ounce cherry syrup
3/4 ounce unsweetened cranberry juice
Approximately 1/2 teaspoon simple syrup (optional)
1 cherry (garnish)

Combines all the the liquid ingredients in a cocktail shaker with plenty of ice. The Kilbeggan folks insist you should then shake vigorously for a full minute; I’m not sure it’s completely necessary to do so for the entire minute, but I followed the instructions as a way of burning a few extra sugar calories.

Pour the now very cold and frothy mixture into a chilled cocktail glass with a your cherry pre-loaded. Make sure it’s either a very large cocktail glass or use smaller proportions as this one yields quite a lot of liquid. Try not to sip it too quickly. This one goes down very easy but is worth a bit of savoring.

****

Despite the reliance on very sweet ingredients, this drink can be a bit more tart than you might expect or want if you eschew that optional simple syrup. That’s because unsweetened cranberry juice — not to be confused with the cranberry juice drinks we all know — is incredibly tart stuff.

If the thought of adding even more sugar to a drink that already has quite a bit is too much for you, one very respectable substitution that I tried was to replace the ordinary vermouth with one of my new favorites, Punt e Mes. This vermouth with a subtly bitter kick more than killed whatever excess tartness I was getting from the cranberry juice but was different enough from the original to be another drink entirely. Does “The Kilbeggan Leopold Bloom” sound classic enough for you?

Anyhow,  both the original and Punt e Messed versions were some very tasty drinking, even if I sort of feel like I should be doubling my exercise program and time spent brushing my teeth right about now.

So, you see, the Jim Beam people have been celebrating the fact that September is National Bourbon Heritage Month (declared by an act of congress!) by sending out free high-end booze to people like me. Which is all well and good — very good, in fact, as far as I’m concerned.

There is a small catch, however.

You see, the company line is that the two slow batch bourbons in questions, Booker’s and Baker’s, are not really intended for cocktails. Sure, at 107 proof for Baker’s and a gobsmacking 128.5 proof on my particular bottle of Booker’s, not a lot of people are going to drink this stuff completely straight, but for most serious bourbon drinkers a bit of water or maybe a single large ice cube will do just fine and be dandy and very nice.

Still, this is a cocktail blog and cocktails are what I like. Also, rules are apparently made to be broken and mixologists have, in fact, been using Baker’s, at least, in cocktails. I found this very nice little recipe, credited to Manhattan bartender Dushan Zaric, that was set up for Baker’s but actually works even better for this boozer with the harder edged Baker’s. Also, given recent political events, I kind of enjoy the name. This one’s for you, Mitt.

The Billionaire

2 ounces very high proof bourbon
1 ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice
1/2 ounce grenadine (ideally a brand that has some actual pomegranate juice in it)
1/2 ounce simple syrup
1/4 ounce of absinthe or, if you’ve got it, absinthe bitters (I don’t!)
1 thin-sliced lemon wheel (garnish)

Combine bourbon, lemon juice, grenadine, absinthe, and simple syrup (you can probably substitute a tablespoon of superfine sugar) in a cocktail shaker. Add tons of ice. Shake vigorously and pour into a chilled cocktail glass or rocks glass. (I used the latter.) Sip, and try not to spill any on your ascot.

****
Though this drink teeters on the edge of my personal sensitivity towards excess tartness, all that grenadine and simple syrup, plus the natural sweetness of bourbon, turn out to be more than sufficient for counteracting the lemon juice in a productive matter. I should add that most (but not all) recipes call strictly for absinthe bitters, not just absinthe and some seem to imply you should use some kind of super-fancy grenadine.

Well, all I can say is that my drink tasted fine using the cheap-ass absinthe and the more-authentic-than-usual grenadine I happened to have on hand. I might actually be a member of the income-tax paying 53% percent, but I sure as hell ain’t no billionaire.

I’m of the opinion that no two sets of taste buds are precisely the same. For example, to me, saccharin-derived artificial sweeteners (the ones in the pink packages) have a disgusting, nastily bitter aftertaste, but I’ve talked to any number of people to whom the stuff tastes okay in a cup of coffee. On the other hand, I kind of love the harsh bitter edge of Campari, especially as it follows a burst of real sugary sweetness. All some folks can seem to taste is the bitterness and they don’t like it one bit.

On yet another hand, I think tartness might hit my tongue a bit harder than some folks. Long time readers will note my very mild, yet  incessant, whinging about alleged over-tartness on a number of cocktail classics we’ve covered — the Whiskey Sour comes to mind. Therefore, I guess it’s no surprise that — while I always love getting a free bottle of anything non-explosive in the mail — I’m okay with but not quite a sucker for the extra-large bottle of PAMA Pomegranate Flavored Liqueur that a kind soul sent my way.

I like pomegranates and I’m sure those who enjoy tartness may thoroughly enjoy this relatively low-alcohol product straight up on the rocks. Another product from the fine, Kentucky-based Heaven Hill family of beverages, PAMA is what it is, as the annoying saying goes. Not too gussied up and entirely respectable, but not quite my personal thing.

On the other hand, the magic of cocktails being what it is, I’m sure there’s more than one drink in which I’d truly enjoy using PAMA in all its all caps glory. I had to alter this one slightly to make it work for me, but I do dig it. I’ll give you the scoop on the original version, developed by New York mixologist Eben Freeman, after my very slightly adulterated take.

The PAMA & Rye

1 once PAMA Pomegranite Liqueur
1 ounce high proof rye whiskey
1 ounce fresh squeezed orange juice
1/2 ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice
1 tablespoon superfine sugar
1 orange wheel (i.e. thin slice of orange) as garnish, desirable but not essential

Combine all the liquid ingredients in a cocktail shaker, without ice. Add the superfine sugar and stir to quickly dissolve. Now, add plenty of ice and shake vigorously. Pour over new ice and your orange wheel garnish into a rocks/old fashioned glass. Sip with an open mind.

***

For my rye, I used the recently featured new Knob Creek 100 proof, but I’d be shocked if the similarly strong, very good, and significantly cheaper Rittenhouse Rye didn’t work about as well or maybe even better. I’m not as sure whether a mere 90 proofer, like Sazerac, would work as well, but I certainly wouldn’t blame you for trying it.

Now, Eben Freeman’s original version of this drink featured half an ounce of simple syrup instead of the three teaspons/one tablespoon of superfine sugar I suggested. Although I often substitute the cheaper/easier and more or less identical — minus the water, of course — superfine sugar for syrup, I happened to have some cane syrup I bought on sale on hand, so I made my first version of this drink as directed. For me, it was, well, too tart — though, I add, no more tart than a typical whiskey sour you’d get from a good bartender.

The good news for me was that upping the sugar proportion very slightly really did the trick. Half an ounce of the syrup I was using contained 40 calories, and a tablespoon of sugar contains 48 calories. So, subtracting a tiny amount of water and adding only eight calories worth of sugar really made all the difference for me. Still, if you love tartness, you’ll definitely want to go the Freeman way. (And you’ll need to buy a bottle of PAMA, too.)

I admit it, I’ve gone mad and, like last week, this one’s mine. Yes, I’ve gone mad with the power to create my own drinks — even if no one but me actually tries them — and a bit insane over how tasty this Aperol stuff I picked up a few weeks ago is. I can’t claim credit for the sweetly piquant liqueur’s first DOTW appearance two weeks back, the Aperol Americano, as it’s a common enough substitution. This week, however, I’ve changed things up enough that I think it’s possible that I can claim to have created a variation on a classic original.

This drink is, of course, based on the Americano, a real favorite of mine. I have, however, switched out the two main ingredients. Once again, I’ve replaced Campari with it’s milder but more complex cousin, Aperol. This time, however, I’ve also replaced ordinary sweet vermouth with Punt e Mes, a much bolder sort of vermouth with more than a hint of Aperol/Campari-esque bitter sweetness. It’s also often used as a substitute for vermouth in drinks like the Americano.

Even so, the particular drink below hasn’t been featured anywhere that I know of…though, come to think of it, it probably has been tried and written up someplace. I just hope I never hear about it, because I love this drink so much I want to hog as much credit for it as possible. That’s also why I’ve upped the proportions a bit from the typical Americano. For one thing, Aperol has less alcohol than Campari. More important, however, an Ugly Americano should be slightly excessive.

The Ugly Americano

1 1/2 ounces Aperol
1 1/2 ounces Punt e Mes
Soda water
Orange slice (highly recommended garnish)

Pour the Aperol and Punt e Mes over ice in a chilled Tom Collins/highball or similarly sized glass. Add the orange slice and top off with soda water. (Following the snobby practice of Ian Fleming, I used Perrier this time around, as it was on sale.) Stir for a moment and sip. Ummh, good.

****
Yes, with this drink I throw all objectivity to the four winds. I pat myself on the back and follow it with a hearty, though weird, self-embrace.

That might be going a bit far in the eyes of others, but I really do think this drink has real potential. It’s sweeter than an Americano but I think it maintains its respectability by adding even more complexity than the original. Seriously, folks, this drink is so tasty I can’t possibly be the first person to have tried it. Right?

After taking a break with last week’s post, today I finally complete my trilogy of cocktails made with Mariposa Agave Necter Liqueur.

I debated what to call this drink, but something about it brought me back to my days, oh so long ago, living in the Mid-Wilshire district of Los Angeles adjacent to Koreatown. I remembered the name of the street, and the fact that the local Latino kids used the term “mariposa” — which literally means “butterfly” — as a kind of mild insult. Then, the other night I actually found myself on Mariposa Avenue not from L.A.’s very cool R Bar and the die was cast.

As for the drink itself, I basically just borrowed the proportions of a Manhattan and figured that the Mariposa liqueur would bring out the agave flavor of tequila. I was right, so you’ll kind of need to enjoy the flavor of agave for this one to work for you.

The Mariposa Avenue

2 ounces white tequila
1 ounce Maripose Agave Necter Liqueur
1 dash orange bitters
1 maraschino cherry (garnish)

No surprises here. Just combine the tequila, liqueur, and bitters in a cocktail shaker. Shake like crazy, and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Add the maraschino cherry for an extra dash of sweetness.

****

Since this one is my own creation, I hesitate to judge it. I did make it for some random people, not cocktail aficionados, who seemed to think it wasn’t disgusting. I will say that I personally enjoy the agave flavor. I had good luck making this with fairly generic regular Sauza and also Sauza Blue, which is 100% blue agave and produces an intriguingly strong, mildly astringent flavor.

So, give this one a whirl and see what you think. Will this drink go down in history, or will it just go down my throat on occasion? It’s up to you dear, readers.

What kind of drink do you want on Labor Day? Something so strong it’ll make you lose all ambition and forget you even have a job? Maybe you’d be better off with something so delicious and sweet it’ll make you glad you have some hard-earned sheckels and can actually afford some decent booze, but not so heavy duty with alcohol it’ll dehydrate you in the late summer heat or blitz you out to the point that you’re going to have to call in sick on Tuesday morning.

So, we turn to a variation on a genuine cocktail great, the Americano. This version substitutes Campari with Aperol, another liqueur from the same Italian manufacturer which only recently has become widely available on our shores but which I understand has been delighting Europeans en masse since some time not long after Benito Mussolini was given his eternal walking papers.

Aperol is something like a kinder and gentler lower alcohol variation on the super-sweet and super-bitter one-two punch of Campari. While I love it’s more potent cousin, Aperol is, on its own, a drink with just enough bitterness to underline its delightful sweetness.  Using it in an Americano turns into a super refreshing beverage that’s as user-friendly as anything, but just complex enough, I think, to placate a not-too hardbitten cocktail snob. It’s worth a little labor, but making this drink is about as easy as drinking it.

The Aperol Americano

1 ounce Aperol
1 ounce sweet vermouth
Club soda or seltzer water
Orange slice (highly desirable garnish)

Add the Aperol and vermouth to an old fashioned glass with plenty of ice in it and maybe an orange slice or chunk. Top off with soda. Now here’s the difficult part — stir. You might consider toasting the hard working members of organized labor who helped you get that weekend you’re currently enjoying so much.

***
When I wrote about the Americano just slightly under a year ago, I described it as “a perfect drink for lightweights” despite the fact that I also noted it’s the first drink ordered by none other than James Bond in none other than the first James Bond novel, “Casino Royale.” Considering that lower alcohol content of Aperol vis-à-vis Campari, I guess this would be an even more perfect beverage for lightweights.

If that’s a little too perfect for you, it’s perfectly acceptable to do what I did and increase the Aperol and vermouth to 1 1/2 ounces each and make the drink in a somewhat larger Tom Collins/highball glass. It’s way good and it still won’t remove you from the workforce.