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6. Gin Drinks

Of all popular alcoholics, gin probably leads in favor, especially in tropic and sub-tropic countries. To go high hat with the language, gin is an aroma­tized potable with a characteristic flavor derived from the juniper berry. The word "gin" is merely a shortening of the liquor's original name, geneva, taken from an old Dutch word, genever, a name for the juniper berry.

In old writings (such as one of 1706: "Geneva, a kinde of Strong Water, so called") are found many references to this liquor. Its shortened form Gin, formerly denoted a double distilled spirit of British manufacture, imitation of the original liquor, mar­keted by the Dutch as Hollands geneve, later known as Hollands, but today called Holland Gin.

That the British form of geneve was for many years even as now a popular drink, is amply proved by literature of the past. For example, in 1709, "The Gypsie With Flip and Geneve got most Damnably Typsie," and in 1728, Dean Swift, driving home a simile, wrote: "Their chatt'ring makes a louder din than fishwives o'er a cup of jin."

Our so-called dry gin, usually coupled with the in­formation on the bottle that it is "London Dry Gin," as popular in this country and the British possessions, as it is in the Merry Old Isle. First made in England by a redistillation process repeated frequently before bottling, it is quite different from the old Hollami gins which verge on the sweet side.

Fable tells us that the name "Old Tom" Gin, of cer­tain British brands, was so named when an old Tom cat fell into a barrel of the spirits. This tradition is antedated by the fact that years before the tale of the drowned cat went the rounds, Hodge's Distillery in England named their brand of gin for old Tom Chamberlain, a distiller employed by them. His pic­ture in the garb of a sailor appears on the labels pasted on the bottles.

Sloe Gin, used in some of our fancy mixed drinks, is named for a small, bitter black wild plum, the oil of which is used to flavor the distilled spirit—not because there is anything slow about its effects. Sloe gin is fast coming into favor because of its mild strength and the distinctive flavor given it by the sloe berries—tart yet somewhat sweet.

Practically all of the gin drinks, the drys, Old Toms, and sloes belong in the tall glass category . . . tall ones that tinkle when filled with ice and make hot days coolish and hot nights cooler. Before you try any of the famous New Orleans recipes which have for their basic ingredient good old gin, first let me introduce you to a mixed drink that has won world-wide acclaim —New Orleans own and truly refreshing Ramos Gin Fizz.

Ramos Gin Fizz

1 tablespoon powdered sugar

3-4 drops orange flower water

½ lime—juice only

½ lemon—juice only

1 jigger dry gin

1 white of egg

1 jigger rich milk or cream

1 squirt seltzer water

1 drops extract vanilla (optional)

Mix in a tall barglass in the order given; add crushed ice, not too fine as lumps are needed to whip up the froth of the egg white and cream. Use a long metal shaker and remember this is one drink which needs a long, steady shaking. Keep at it until the mixture gets body—"ropy" as some experienced barkeepers express it. When thoroughly shaken, strain into a tall thin glass for serving.

This gin fizz long has been an institution in the city care forgot. The age of the Ramos gin fizz is well past the half-century mark and its popularity shows no signs of abating. In the good old days be­fore the federal government was so prodigal with padlocks, the saloons of Henry C. Ramos were famous for the gin fizzes shaken up by a busy bevy of shaker boys. Visitors, not to mention home folk, flocked in droves to the Ramos dispensary to down the frothy draft that Ramos alone knew how to make to perfec­tion. One poetical sipper eulogized it thus: "It's like drinking a flower!"

Exactly what went into the making of a Ramos gin fizz always has been more or less a secret. One thing is certain—only at the Ramos establishment could one get what tasted like a real gin fizz. Wherefore, like all successful drinks, the Ramos fizz was widely imitated but never really duplicated. Possibly no other thirst assuaging emporium gave the mixture the long deliberate shaking it received from the shaker boys behind the Ramos bar, and that was the secret of its lip-smacking goodness. Came prohibi­tion, and the drink that made the name of Ramos fa­mous disappeared. After the return of legal liquor the trade name of Ramos on a gin fizz was acquired by the Hotel Roosevelt, and today that is its legal domicile.

The gin fizz, and by that I mean the common or garden variety, had its beginning way back yonder, but the Ramos concoction was not known to Or-leanians until 1888 when Henry C. Ramos came to New Orleans from Baton Rouge and purchased the Imperial Cabinet saloon from Emile Sunier. The Cabinet was located at the corner of Gravier and Carondelet streets (where a modern Sazerac saloon now holds forth) and above it, on the second story, was a famous restaurant of days gone by— The Old Hickory. Here it was that Henry Ramos served the gin fizz that departed so radically from the other frothy gin mixtures served in New Orleans saloons, and here he remained until 1907 when he purchased Tom Anderson's Stag saloon opposite the Gravier street entrance to the St. Charles Hotel.

The new place became a mecca for the thirsty and for those pioneers who would make a pilgrimage of any sort for a new drink. At times The Stag became so crowded that customers were forced to wait an hour or more (or so it seemed) to be served. The corps of busy shaker boys behind the bar was one of the sights of the town during Carnival, and in the 1915 Mardi Gras, 35 shaker boys nearly shook their arms off, but were still unable to keep up with the demand.

The recipe given is the original formula. Veteran barkeeps differ violently—practically come to blows —over the inclusion of the two innocent drops of extract of vanilla. Old-timers who worked for Henry Ramos in the past declare the original Ramos included no vanilla in its make-up. Others hold that the twin drops of extract wrung from the heart of the vanilla bean either make or break a real gin fizz—make it taste like heaven or the reverse.

Therefore, when you mix your fizz, add the two vanilla drops or leave them out, just as you please. If still in doubt, take it up with Paul Alpuente at the Hotel Roosevelt bar. He was with Henry Ramos for years and when he mixes your Ramos gin fizz, watch him closely.

Tom Collins

1 barspoon powdered sugar 1 lemon—juice only

1 dash orange flower water ½lime—juice only

1 jigger dry gin

2 ounces seltzer water

Into a tall highball glass place a generous spoonful of bar sugar. Squeeze in the juice of a lemon. Add a dash of orange flower water, and squirt in about 2 ounces of seltzer. Stir until the sugar is dissolved. Next squeeze in the juice of half a lime and add a generous jigger of gin. Stir. Add several lumps of fine ice and jiggle with a barspoon. Add just enough seltzer to fill to the brim and jiggle energet­ically. Serve in the mixing glass.

Who was Tom Collins? No matter—especially on a hot summer day when you need the coolest, the most refreshing drink known to sweltering humanity. Whether or not you know anything about Mr. Collins or his antecedents, or why he was important enough to have a drink named for him, you can take our word for it that this one is among the best known and best liked drinks in New Orleans, and all points West, East, and North.

Like many another thirst-quencher, the Tom Col­lins is subject to infinite variations. It is not diffi­cult to concoct and no knack is needed to make it just right, but we implore you not to leave out the dash of orange flower water. Depart not from the recipe above, sanctioned by John Swago, one of the best old-time mixologists who ever pushed a Tom Collins across polished mahogany.

Then there is Rum Collins, or "Charley Collins," which found its way into New Orleans from Cuba. To make this one substitute Cuban type rum, Bacar­di or like brands, for the dry gin, but don't leave out the dash of orange flower water.

John Collins

1 barspoon powdered sugar 1 lemon—juice only

1  dash orange flower water
½ lime—juice only

3-4 jigger rye whiskey ¼, jigger rum

2 ounces seltzer water

A John Collins is made exactly like the Tom Collins with one exception . . . use no gin. The same amount of sugar, lemon, orange flower water, lime and seltzer. Substitute for the gin three-quarters of a jigger of rye whiskey plus one-quarter jigger rum. Mix, stir, and ice in the same way you fixed up Brother Tom, and there you have a cooling summer drink, preferred by many to the one named for Tom Collins.

Gin Fizzes Silver, Golden, and Royal Fizzes

1 lemon—juice only 1 barspoon powdered sugar 1 jigger dry gin seltzer water

Mix in a bar glass, drop in several lumps of ice, cover with a shaker and shake well. Pour into a tall serving glass and fill with seltzer water.

The above is the common or garden variety of gin fizz, in which that old standby gin plays the princi­pal role, and is not to be confused with the celebrated Ramos gin fizz that has helped contribute to New Orleans' fame.

As with other popular drinks, the gin fizz lends itself to endless variations. We have the Silver Fizz, the Golden Fizz, and the Royal Fizz—a trinity of throat-ticklers in which the addition of an egg, in its separate and collective parts, makes the difference.

A Silver Fizz is made exactly like the gin fizz given above—with the addition of the white of an egg. Shake well in a shaker, remembering that largish pieces of ice are needed whenever any part of an egg is added to a mixture.

A Golden Fizz is identical with the above, save that the yolk only of the egg is used.

A Royal Fizz requires both the yolk and white of the egg.

In any of these gin fizzes it must be remembered that the fizz water is added to the drink after it has been shaken and strained into the serving glass.

Dry Martini

1 pony French vermouth

1 pony dry gin

½ teaspoon orange bitters

Mix in a barglass with several good sized lumps of ice and stir with a barspoon—never put a dry martini in a shaker, as William Powell and Myrna Loy did in The Thin Man. Be sure to use French brut or dry vermouth if you want your cocktail to crackle. Don't forget the olive! A small pearl onion may take its place if you're onion-minded. Spear the olive (or onion) with a toothpick for dainty transfer from hand to mouth.

Visitors who know their liquor will soon discover that in no other one city does the man behind the bar mix a better dry martini than in New Orleans. That is because the bartender makes a simple operation of it, using the better French makes of dry vermouth, such as Noilly Prat, Cinzano, and Cazapra; and dry gins like Gordon's, Hiram Walker's, Gilbey's, Mil-shire's, Fleischmann's, Silver Wedding, or similar brands. When making your own, use a good make of orange bitters. Do not shake. We repeat—do not shake, even if you heard us the first time. Stir, and serve in a chilled glass.

The dry martini was originally called the "Wal­dorf-Astoria cocktail" as it was first made of French vermouth (not the sweeter Italian brand) at that famous old New York hostelry in the gay '90's. The recipe called for a dash of orange bitters, 1/3 French vermouth, 2/3 dry gin . . . olive, of course.

John Swago, of the St. Regis, who knows what he is about when concocting a dry martini, uses dry gin and French vermouth in equal portions, and not the 2/3 gin and 1/3 vermouth usually suggested in drink recipes. Drink one of John's dry martinis and taste the difference!

Not-Too-Dry Martini

1-2 dashes orange bitters

2/3 French vermouth

1/6 Italian vermouth

1/6 dry gin

This one is for those who prefer their martini cocktail not too dry and not too sweet. Stir as directed in the dry recipe with several pieces of ice. Strain into serving glass on top of an olive. Note that this martini is darker in color and a trifle on the sweet side.

This one is frequently termed "the perfect martini."

Sweet Martini

1 part dry gin

2 parts Italian vermouth

This is the one to mix if a sweet martini is what you want. Stir and serve as directed for the dry martini, but do not in­clude an olive when you strain it into the cocktail glass.

The Italian vermouths are not as dry as those made in France and are classified as "sweet" ver­mouths. A favorite Italian vermouth is that manu­factured by Martini & Rossi, which, say some, gave this cocktail its name. Other drink historians claim the name "Martini" is a contraction of Martinez, an early whiskey drink. Vermontis the French word applied to a liquor manufactured from white wine flavored with certain aromatic herbs. In this coun­try we spell it vermouth.

Wallis Blue Cocktail

1 pony Cointreau 1 jigger dry gin 1 lime—juice only

Mix in a shaker well supplied with pieces of ice. Shake. Strain into a cocktail glass, the rim of which should be rubbed with the lime pulp and dipped in sugar just before being filled and served.

When radio and newspapers blazoned to the world that the Duke of Windsor had concocted a new cock­tail at Chateau de Cande, Monts, France, in honor of his marriage to the Lady from Baltimore, many re­cipes purporting to be THE one found their way into print—most of them impossible.

The former Edward VIII of England toasted his duchess-to-be in what proves to be a variation of the well-known and popular "Side Car" cocktail, with gin substituted for brandy. That the cocktail might match the eyes of his American bride and reflect her penchant for blue, vegetable dye was added to give the proper color. Truly a royal gesture.

The king who surrendered a throne for the woman he loved, mixed a delightful and well-balanced cock­tail. You can do the same, if Countreau is used. While there are a number of satisfactory domestic cordials of the distilled orange type, it is better to stick to the imported brand of M. Cointreau, of An­gers, France. Do not substitute lemon juice for lime, and be sure you use a good brand of dry gin. The blue coloring matter isn't absolutely necessary—but it looks pretty and matches Wally's eyes.

Side Car Cocktail

1 jigger cognac brandy

1 pony Cointreau

1 lime—juice only

Pour into a mixing glass with cracked ice and shake well. Strain from the shaker into a cocktail glass, chilled before serving. The imported French Cointreau will be found supe­rior to domestic brands.

This is the Cointreau drink upon which the Duke of Windsor based the "Wallis Blue" cocktail he created at the prenuptial dinner for his bride.

Some prefer lemon when making a Side Car to the tangy flavor of lime. Others make it by using one-third each of brandy, curagao, and lemon juice. Some substitute Triple Sec for the Cointreau. All are mighty good. One thing to bear in mind when mix­ing and serving the Side Car is that it must be wellfrapped. Therefore, never use cocktail glasses that have not been well chilled in advance.

Legend has it that this cocktail was created by ac­cident. An innkeeper of France, confused and ex­cited by news of damage to his side car, combined separate orders of cognac brandy, Cointreau and lemon juice into a single drink. The mischance proved a bonanza, for the happy mixture found in­stant favor. Growing in popularity through the years, Side Car has now become the smart drink of twocontinents.

Vieux Carre Cocktail

½ teaspoon benedictine

1 dash Peychaud bitters

1 dash Angostura bitters

1/3 jigger rye whiskey

1/3 jigger cognac brandy

1/3 jigger Italian vermouth

The benedictine is used as a base and also for sweetening the cocktail. Dash on the bitters, then add the rye, brandy, and vermouth. Put several lumps of ice in the barglass. Stir, Twist a slice of lemon peel over the mixture. Drop in a slice of pineapple and a cherry if you wish and serve in mixing glass.

This is the cocktail that Walter Bergeron, head bartender of the Hotel Monteleone cocktail lounge, takes special pride in mixing. He originated it, he says, to do honor to the famed Vieux Carre, that part of New Orleans where the antique shops and the iron lace balconies give sightseers a glimpse into the ro­mance of another dav.

Orange Blossom

1 pony orange juice

2 ponies dry gin

1 dash Peychaud bitters

This drink calls for a shaker. Allow plenty of ice lumps and be sure the mixture is well frapped before pouring into cock­tail glasses previously chilled.

A simple drink to mix and simply grand to drink, especially on a hot day or a warm night. Some devo­tees of this cocktail prefer a half-and-half mixture of gin and orange juice, and some forego the delight of the dash of Peychaud bitters in favor of the addition of a little grenadine sirup or a little honey. Some make it by using a third each of gin, Italian ver­mouth, and orange juice.

Whichever recipe you follow, be sure you have a sweet juicy orange. We recommend Louisiana Sweet —the best on the market.

Rickeys

1 jigger dry gin or

sloe gin, rum,

bourbon whiskey,

rye whiskey

½ lime—juice and pulp

seltzer water

Mix in the 6 or 8 ounce highball glass in which it is to be served. Fill with crushed ice and squirt on the seltzer or other sparkling water. Remember the lime pulp is left in the glass.

Rickeys must have lime juice in their composition, whether they are made with dry or sloe gin, Cuban type rum, rye, or Bourbon whiskey. Use plenty of ice cubes when mixing, don't fail to include the squeezed-out lime pulp, and liven with seltzer water. Any of the waters which do queer things to your nose will answer.

All we know about the naming of this simple, satis­fying summer drink which comes to us in a tall glass glass with clinking ice, is that it was named for a certain Colonel Joseph Rickey. Another allegation is that he was a member of Congress!

State Street Cocktail

1 jigger unsweetened pineapple juice 1 lemon—juice only

½ lime—juice only

1 jigger dry gin

1 white of egg

2 teaspoons sugar

Mix sugar with the gin and pineapple juice until dissolved. Add juice of the lemon and lime. After placing in shaker with plenty of ice lumps, add the white of egg—remembering that one egg will do for a dozen portions. Shake vigorously, as with all drinks containing egg white. Serve in clear crys­tal glasses. This drink is as pleasant to the eye as to the palate with its amber color and collar of foam.

This is the author's favorite warm weather cock­tail. He is fond of it in the wintertime, too. In fact, he doesn't know any season when it fails to hit the spot. His wife brought the original recipe back from Mexico under the name of "Franco," but the author found by experiment that gin was a great improve­ment over pulque, mescal or tequila in mixing the drink.

We always improve 'em in New Orleans. How true what they say about Dixie!

Bronx Cocktail

½ dry gin

¼ French dry vermouth

¼ Italian vermouth

1 thick slice orange

1 dash Peychaud bitters

The Bronx is far from being a dry cocktail, but neither is it too sweet. As the flavor depends upon the orange, it would be well to select a Louisiana Sweet, if possible. The tall bar-glass should be filled with shaved ice and, with the metal shaker over it, given a vigorous shaking before contents are strained into the serving glass. Some add a dash of Pey­chaud or Angostura bitters to the mixture before serving.

Just why this particular mixture was christened the Bronx remains a mystery and probably always will. It is quite possible some inspired soul concluded that if Manhattan had its own particular cocktail there was no good reason why the Borough of the Bronx should not similarly be honored.

Like the Manhattan, there are a number of favored recipes for the Bronx, varying in the quantities of gin, vermouths, and orange used. The recipe given above is the one usually served in New Orleans, and when a Louisiana Sweet orange is used, the stranger in our midst learns that a Louisiana-grown Valencia is much juicier and sweeter than the oranges which come to us from Florida or sunny California. (Flo­rida and California papers please copy.)

Old Hickory Cocktail

1 pony French vermouth

1 pony Italian vermouth

1 dash orange bitters

2 dashes Peychaud bitters

Pour the two vermouths into a barglass, add the dash of orange bitters, the two shots of Peychaud bitters. Fill with cubes of ice and stir well. Strain into a serving glass. Twist a piece of lemon peel over then drop it into the glass.

According to hoary but unsubstantiated tradition, this was the favorite tipple of General Andrew Jack­son when he was in New Orleans the winter of 1814-15 helping pirate Jean Laffite win the Battle of New Orleans.

But we can promise this Old Hickory cocktail won't be as tough on your palate as was "Old Hickory"Jackson on the British that historic Eighth of Jan­uary.

Pink Lady

1 pony dry gin

1 pony applejack or apple brandy

1 lime—juice only

2 barspoons grenadine sirup

1 white of egg

Use a barglass for mixing. The amount of grenadine used will determine the sweetness of the drink as well as the pink-ness of the lady. The white of egg, which will do for one or a dozen drinks, improves its smoothness. Use large lumps of ice in the shaker. Serve in chilled cocktail glasses.

There are ladies and ladies, but this one, named for a light opera, makes everything rosy.

Another with plenty of championing boy friends is concocted thus: two barspoons of grenadine or rasp­berry sirup, a jigger of gin, white of egg, and three dashes of Peychaud bitters. Prepare in a shaker glass and exercLse your arms, for this is "To the Ladies!"

Clover Club

1 jigger dry gin ½ lime—juice only 1 pony raspberry sirup 1 white of egg 1 dash Peychaud bitters

Pour the ingredients into the shaker in order given. Drop in the lumps of ice. Set yourself for a good shaking, for this is a cocktail that must be well trapped. To give chic to the final result, decorate your cocktail glasses with sprigs of mint after straining into them the delightful liquid from your shaker.

Some of the how-to-rnix'em-experts use grenadine sirup instead of the raspberry. Upon experiment it will be found that red raspberry not only gives a prettier pink color but imparts a flavor grenadine cannot match. As it has the white of an egg in it, this cocktail must be well shaken.

Why was it named a clover cocktail? Well, you have us there. Possibly it's because the lucky recipient, after tossing it off (or should this drink be tossed?) will concede that the finding of a four-leaf clover is not so lucky as finding this cocktail.

We have always admired the added ummph the dash of Peychaud bitters gives this deservedly popu­lar concoction.

Alexandra

1 pony dry gin 1 pony creme de cacao 1 pony rich cream 1 white of egg

Have just enough shaved or finely pounded ice in the shaker before pouring in the gin, creme de cacao, and cream. Re­member that one white of egg will do, whether you are mix­ing for two or a dozen guests. Be strenuous in your shaking whenever there is white of egg or cream in a mixture. Shake, brother, shake, and then shake some more for good measure. Strain into cocktail glasses and hear your guests call you a good mixer.

Smooth as cream, delicate as dew, and easily pre­pared is the Alexandre. Some who mix this par­ticular cocktail do not use the white of egg. A mis­take, for the albumen gives a froth and an added smoothness which makes this cocktail different. Like all drinks in which egg white is used vigorous shaking is required. Give the Alexandre all you've got in elbow grease to make it live up to its reputation— for it is truly Alexander the Great among drinks in its class.

Note our Frenchy spelling. If you have trouble with its pronunciation, simply hold your nose tight between thumb and forefinger. But, should you by mischance pronounce it Alexander—it will taste just the same. And the taste is simply de-lovely.

"The chiefe fudling they make in the Islands Barbados is Rum-bullion, alias Kill-Devil, and this is made of sugar canes distilled, a hott, hellish, and terrible Liquor." 1651.

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