The Complete Guide to the Drinks of James Bond, Second Edition

It stands to reason that if you've got a good idea, a really good idea, the kind of good idea that seems obvious the moment it appears in your mind, then it's a good bet someone else has already done it.  And when I conjured the notion to write a blog researching, cataloging and field testing everything James Bond drinks in the books and in the films, it did in fact occur to me to search the internet to see if anyone had done it first but, for whatever reason, my search came up empty. I blame it on sunspot interference or some other atmospheric anomaly.  In any case, I set about doing what any James Bond fan on a mission might: I turned to the source material and started documenting every scene where Bond and a beverage of any kind collide.

I mention all of the above because, shortly after starting this blog, I discovered The Complete Guide to the Drinks of James Bond by David Leigh. Leigh runs the extensive and exhaustive site The James Bond Dossier and works harder than any single person I can imagine to find and share the best of everything the 007 world has to offer. And he finds it all.  David Leigh hadn't just started a blog, he'd completed a book. A book!

So I did what any James Bond fan on a mission that another agent had already completed would do: I bought his book and examined his work. It was good. Good and damned thorough. He'd listed everything by category, clearly identified which book and/or film where each drink was featured and even given context from the source material. As I said, it was very good. But I still wanted to share some feedback based on my experience making these drinks as well as discuss ingredients and techniques. In short, I still felt it was a worthy endeavor for me to continue sourcing spirits, field testing drinks and adding my voice to the mix.

To my complete surprise, David Leigh welcomed me on the scene and I have very much enjoyed corresponding with him about spirits, history and the world of James Bond (he even included some of my feedback in the second edition).  With The Complete Guide to the Drinks of James Bond, 2nd Edition, Leigh has expanded and updated what was already an impressive effort with ingredients likely not available when he published the first edition (the world of craft cocktails is evolving at a furious pace), techniques and tools to help set the bartender up for success in a new section called Q Branch and has even managed to include the new film Skyfall, just a few days after its European release and days before it shows up in the U.S.

In short, this is a great book for a James Bond fan.  Until Skyfall is released,  it's a free download on Amazon.com.

Go. Now.

Stinger

Créme de Menthe.  It's a problem.  At best, it is like liquid chewing gum and at worst, a syrupy mouthwash sold to an unsuspecting public as a beverage.  Sadly, good crème de menthe is so hard to find that the words "good"and "crème de menthe" all together have become a kind of oxymoron.   Mostly it's just the budget mixer brands that make anything with that name and, sadly, it bears little resemblance to the aperitif of years gone past which makes hopeless the act of recreating the few drinks that employed it.

Get 27 in Europe is highly regarded but hard to come by in the U.S. Recently, a manufacturer with offices in both France and the Napa valley in northern California called Tempus Fugit has taken it upon themselves to give new life to such forgotten and maligned victims of cocktail fashion as crème de menthe, crème de cacao and, yes, that elixir that makes a vesper, well, a Vesper; a proper kina in their Kina lÁvion d'Or; based on an ancient recipe (or so we would believe).

Taking the road less traveled from most commercial créme de menthes, the Tempus Fugit product (Créme de Menthe Glacial) tastes more like fresh mint with a hint of menthol and other compatible herbaceous flavors than any product currently on the market. More potent in terms of flavor than simply muddling your own mint but stopping just this side of cloying or overly potent, Tempus Fugit Crème de Menthe Glacial is a syrupy mix but one borne of the Earth, not of the factory. With a vegetal nature that shines through the sweetness of the beverage, it tastes rich, deep (in that you'll likely not decipher its secrets in one sitting) and authentic.  This writer is, perhaps, too old (older than 12!) to enjoy this liqueur straight but I have tasted it in the hands of master mixologists and found it more than compelling (and, to be fair, I don't drink any liqueur straight).

Of course, the reason behind this diatribe is that the Stinger Cocktail, which Bond enjoys twice in the novels, is traditionally made with cognac and créme de menthe.

While it dates back to the final days of the pre-prohibition era, the Stinger is possibly the quintessential high society drink for the prohibition era; it is short, fast, potent (hence its name) and easy to make, providing you could get your hands on a decent brandy. When Bond drinks them at all, it is for dessert in posh establishments such as Club 21 in New York and the Nassau Casino which Fleming describes as "a well-run, elegant place that deserves its profit."  This is traditional but, as with many of Bond's tastes and attitudes, a little out of step with the time as Reginald Vanderbilt (father of Gloria and grandfather of CNN anchor Anderson Cooper) had, in the 1920's, popularized the Stinger as a less of a digestif and more of a cocktail; which is to say: a drink decent folks could drink at any time of day, morning, noon or night and not just after a good meal.

 As an after dinner drink, the Stinger is certainly adequate and, if we're honest, we'd rather read about 007 downing a few cocktails for dessert than visualize him tucking into a bowl of ice cream or munching a rice crispy treat like the rest of us. Not only does the choice of a Stinger tell us about Bond's class consciousness but the fact that he has it for dessert tells us a little about his slightly old fashioned tastes and sense of propriety.  Bond does not drink Stingers interchangeably with martinis or with old fashioned cocktails. They have their place and their place is after dinner. And, in this, he is correct.  As a digestif or after dinner drink, the Stinger is thick, sweet and refreshing and it serves to communicate to ones possibly over-worked palette that the meal has come to a close.

The best recipe I could find for the Stinger was in David Wondrich's book Imbibe!:

• 2.25 oz. cognac (I used Remy Martin cognac V.S.O.P.)
• .75 oz. créme de menthe

Shaken, not stirred. I know, it's a spirits-forward cocktail and should, as such be stirred but the crème de menthe is so viscous that it requires a bit of shaking and the resulting dilution from the shaking process is a kindness, particularly when you consider this drink is supposed to be served up in a cocktail glass.

The problem for me is that as a cocktail or stand-alone libation, it doesn't quite work. Too much liqueur makes the drink too sweet, too little makes it harsh, off balance and no careful balancing of the two ingredients gives it the depth of flavor I feel it needs. After experimenting with different proportions and even with different base spirits, substituting brandy for rye and going back again, I decided the best option was to err on the side of too much sweetness and try augmenting it with another element.  After all, Reginald Vanderbilt, the most famous proponent of the drink as more than just a dessert tipple, liked a dash of absinthe in his and, to my tastes, this adds just the depth the stinger needs to stand on it's own as a cocktail.  Jason Wilson, author of Boozehound, calls this a Stinger Royale. I believe James Bond would have raised his eyebrow at that and then ordered two or three doubles in a row before playing a few rounds of Chemin de Fer.

The Stinger Royale a'la Legendre Thirst:

• 2.25 oz. cognac
• .5 oz. to .75 oz. (to taste) Tempus Fugit Crème de Menthe Glacial (if you're in Europe, you might pick up a bottle of Get 27 brand Crème de Menthe)
• 1 dash absinthe (or, if you have them, Cocktail Kingdom Wormwood Bitters are good too)
• Lemon Twist

Shaken and served on the rocks

The sweetness of the drink makes it immediately accessible, even to those to typically prefer juice-based drinks while the brandy gives the drink a satisfying body in the finish which is graced every so elegantly by the absinthe.

The Stinger Royale is still very much at its best as an after dinner drink, owing to the sweetness and the mint but a good friend (and experienced cocktail enthusiast) says she might be just as likely to enjoy her stinger before a robust meal.  Or after a robust meal.  Or in the middle of the day whilst considering a robust meal. Or with coffee to get her constitution ready for breakfast.  Or after breakfast.

Use quality ingredients with the above percentages and I couldn't really see how you could go wrong with that plan.

Tempus Fugit is on Facebook, Twitter (@TFSpirits), on the web and their products are carried by quality craft spirits retailers. I do not have an affiliation with them, only an appreciation of their products.

The Kangaroo Cocktail (aka "Vodka Martini")

"I'll have a Kangaroo. Shaken, not stirred."

"'I hope I've made it right,' she said. 'Six to one sounds terribly strong. I've never had vodka Martinis before.'"  The poor dear. We are, of course, referring to Solitaire in the novel Live and Let Die, trying to please her new man, James Bond, by making his drink correctly despite her anxiety about its (or his?) strength (power?).

The most well known tipple 007 is known to quaff, is of course, the "Vodka Martini". It is probably insufferably pretentious of me but I'm one of those irritating folks who believes there are only three drinks in the world that may be called a Martini and they all have gin and vermouth, dry, sweet or a combination of the two. Change the garnish from a lemon peel or olive to a cocktail onion and the drink becomes a Gibson despite the fact that it is really just a Martini with a different garnish. Swap out the gin for another principle spirit, such as bourbon, and you're just one dash of bitters (and a cocktail cherry) away from having yourself a Manhattan. By this logic, exchanging the gin for vodka should result in a drink with its own name; either a Vodka and Vermouth or something more exotic. In fact when vodka and vermouth were first mixed together in the 1920's, they did have an exotic name; they became: The Kangaroo Cocktail. Why that name didn't stand the test of time, one can only imagine.

I am the first to admit that making a Martini is infinitely easier than learning to appreciate one. The dry Martini is an acquired taste which is part of what gives it that enduring air of sophistication. Once you develop the taste, you feel almost as if you have earned your way into an exclusive club of men and women who know how to live and live well. Not everyone can or will develop a taste for the Martini and that only adds to the exclusivity of it all. It is snobbery, plain and simple but snobbery about the things we like is, perhaps, the only justifiable snobbery to embrace.

I suspect this is why people who love the Martini bristle at the Kangaroo (which is how I will refer to it from here on, so as to avoid confusion) being called a "Vodka Martini". Not only does it make it more complicated to order our beloved Martini, it seems like a cheat; a weak drink that does nothing to challenge the palette or earn the cache of sophistication but has, thanks in no small part to the popularity of James Bond, encouraged bartenders the world over to ruin our dry Martinis by shaking the life out of them.  It is bewildering to me how anyone, once appreciating a Martini would prefer a Kangaroo and from what my entirely unscientific research reveals, most people choose one or the other while it is a very rare breed drinks both. Those who favor the Kangaroo, generally do so because they do not like gin. Those who favor the Martini do so because we have learned to appreciate gin and vodka seems like weak tea in comparison.  James Bond is that rare specimen that drinks both. Which begs the question: When and why does one choose a Kangaroo over a Martini?

A friend of mine, who has nothing in common with 007 whatsoever beyond her appreciation of both drinks explained that, for her, the difference is analogous to choosing a lager over a stout; both may be delicious but sometimes something light and refreshing is more desirable than something challenging and complex. She also mentioned the importance in the garnish; preferring olives in her Kangaroo and a lemon twist in her Martini. In fact, the garnish (be it an olive, a lemon twist or black pepper) defines the kind of experience you can expect from a Kangaroo, simply because the vodka brings so little to the table in terms of flavor. This, I thought, might be a way for me to appreciate this drink more fully. After all, a Martini is either good or bad, depending on the execution. The garnish adds a dimension but it is the interplay between the botanical ingredients in the gin and the vermouth that really defines the experience. But a drink you can influence so strongly with just the garnish?  Now that's interesting!

James Bond prefers his Kangaroo to be called a "Vodka Martini" and for them to be made this way:

• 3 oz. (or six parts) vodka
• .5 oz. (or 1 part) dry vermouth

Shaken (not stirred) with ice, strained into a chilled cocktail glass with a large slice of lemon peel which is best twisted over the top to express the oils across the surface of the drink.

"I've never had a Kangaroo before."

It is in Moonraker that Ian Fleming specifies "real pre-war Wolfschmidt" vodka. The Wolfschmidt available to me was on the bottom shelf of my liquor store in a 1.75 liter plastic bottle for $12.00 U.S.  That seemed a bit dodgy to me so I chose Stolichnaya because it is Russian, made from grain (two of Bond's requirements in a vodka) and won a gold metal at an international trade show in Berne, Switzerland in 1953, just one year before Ian Fleming wrote Live and Let Die. In the first flush of the cold war, Russian vodka must have seemed a daring and very modern alternative to London dry gin.

With an olive as the garnish the vermouth and small amount of olive brine dominated the drink with a faint but pleasantly savory vegetal flavor with an almost creamy finish and smooth mouth feel. I enjoyed the drink but found myself wishing I was drinking a Martini instead. With a lemon twist, the drink becomes entirely lemon flavored (albeit dry) with the vermouth playing a supporting role by lending only a hint of sweetness and complexity to the finish. This certainly made for the more refreshing drink and made me yearn less for a Martini. Shaking the drink instead of stirring it made it quite a bit colder than is customary in a Martini (which is best stirred) but also watered the drink down quite a bit.  Since what flavor there is in vodka is not particularly to my liking, the cold and dilution came as a kindness. The lighter flavor profile as enhanced by the citrus was refreshing in the summer heat in a way a Martini would never be. And once I was able to appreciate the Kangaroo on it's own terms instead of as an ersatz Martini, I enjoyed it very much.

I do still find myself tilting at the windmill of the "Vodka Martini" moniker. Calling a Kangaroo a Martini diminishes it by forcing it to compete with a completely different cocktail when it should stand on its own; apples to oranges and all that. It occurs to me that what Ian Fleming did by popularizing vodka and vermouth as a "Vodka Martini" was set up a perpetual cold war between England and Russia, fought not with human lives but with the spirits most closely associated with each country. And with vodka rather winning the day, it makes one wonder whose side he was on...

Brandy and Ginger Ale

The problem with having a favorite or go-to drink is that, invariably, one will find oneself in a bar or restaurant that simply can't fulfill one's needs. For instance, my favorite spirits-based drink is a Sazerac but experience has taught me that a poorly made rendition is worse than none at all. The same is true of juice based drinks. The Last Word is a simply brilliant cocktail (equal parts gin, green chartreuse, Maraschino and lime juice) but most bars lack either one of the ingredients or the skill not to destroy it. A dear friend of mine solved this problem by making his go-to drink a Bourbon and Coke. In fact, while he will drink and review other drinks, a Bourbon and Coke is his favorite. And it's a fine thing but when I drink, I usually want something that plays just a little harder to get in terms of flavor.

When James Bond waits in the airport for the SwissAir Caravelle airplane (model number unknown)  to take him to his fateful rendezvous with Blofeld in the Swiss Alps in Chapter 9 of On Her Majesty's Secret Service he does the sensible thing: Instead of ordering a Vesper or even a Vodka Martini, he drinks something any airport bar could make; a brandy and ginger ale.

To be honest, I was rather dreading this particular entry. I couldn't imagine the brandy would do anything more than give a solid kick to the ginger ale so I wracked my brains trying to think of a way to make the drink more interesting. Perhaps, I thought, an older recipe might shed some light on this. I searched my recipe books and even looked online. I found a Brandy Cooler and Brandy Highball, both of which fit the description but also included a bit of lemon peel for garnish. Unfortunately, Ian Fleming gives no clue to the recipe; only that Bond (being 007) orders a double. Two doubles, actually. One can't help but wonder if all the doubles he orders are simply to compliment his license to kill.

Since I could find no real consensus in traditional cocktail books, I did what (out of respect) I never do. I turned to David Leigh's beautifully researched book The Complete Guide to the Drinks of James Bond and adapted his recipe for my own purposes.

The Brandy & Ginger Ale as I made it means filling a rocks glass with ice and adding:

• 2 oz. Courvoisier V.S.O.P. - The use of cognac is not merely snobbery; cognacs typically have more flavor than a standard brandy. Also, I like to imagine both Ian Fleming and James Bond would approve.
• Ginger ale. I filled the rest of the glass with the stuff. Probably 8 ounces. In the spirit of going with what an airport bar might have, I used Canada Dry for my first attempt which, in my part of the world, is more soda pop than mixer. The bottle I used was made of green plastic and had a picture of Captain America on the front. I'm not sure but I believe I just heard Ian Fleming tossing in his grave as I typed that.

Leave it at that and you have a surprisingly sophisticated and delightful drink not entirely unlike a somewhat simpler Brandy and Benedictine in terms of flavor but with a refreshing and effervescent quality that does not diminish over much as the ice melts and dilutes the mixture. The brandy (cognac) which often gets a little lost in cocktails for its more restrained qualities, plays a starring role in the glass with the ginger ale serving to open it up and compliment it. While this could easily be my new airport bar go-to drink I (being myself) still felt it could do with just a touch of interest. I added:

• 4 goodly dashes of The Bitter Truth Celery Bitters.
• Twist of lemon

Unlike a spice or citrus driven bitter, the subtler vegetal quality of the celery bitters doesn't come across at first but it lends the finish just a hint of savory funk and the very slight bitter flavor helps dial back the sweetness of the soda and ground the drink which helps as the ice melts. If you've been reading my blog, you know I enjoy a little funk; I believe it's the key to appreciating old world flavors and is all too rare in modern cuisine. If you find the celery bitters in a Brandy & Ginger Ale are not to your taste, you can always use them to enhance a Bloody Mary. The lemon twist is more for the nose of the drink. Lemon and ginger are brilliant bedfellows and if you replace the soda-pop ginger ale with something elegant like the ginger ale from Fever Tree and add the celery bitters, you will have yourself a real cocktail.

The lesson, if there is one, is to field test every drink, no matter how simplistic the recipe may seem on the surface. The Brandy and Ginger Ale is a very strong entry to the cannon of mixed drinks blessed (or at least imbibed) by James Bond. And, because it is a long drink, it's less likely to leave you incapacitated in potentially dangerous situations. Unless you order two doubles to compliment your secret service code number. That's pure silliness, of course, but it might just steady your nerves enough to get off a clean shot.

Extra Credit

M, at the James Bond Dossier, was gracious enough to give me the opportunity to sound off a little bit (well, actually more than a little bit) about the first Skyfall teaser trailer.

You can read my words here: http://www.tjbd.co.uk/content/skyfall/skyfall-teaser-trailer-1-why-its-bond.htm

Cheers,
L.T.

Mint Julep

I'd say his Julep is tart enough for him.

Once upon a time in the 1700's, there was, in the United States of America, a vibrant mixed drink culture with a truly staggering array of different classifications of beverages designed to make the best use of the limited spirits and ingredients available at the time. There were punches, collinses, fizzes, flips, noggs, daisies, sours, coolers, cobblers, sangarees, toddies and slings. Bartenders and customers alike were expected to know, more or less, the difference between these drinks, which were served hot, which were served cold and which were served at room temperature (as ice was difficult and expensive to both obtain and maintain and dental technology not all that advanced, super cold drinks were not necessarily a given). Failure on the part of the bartender to get it right could result in termination- literally, by way of lead poisoning, blunt object or a blade across the throat. Tough times.

What you don't see in the list above are juleps. That's because juleps were medicinal in nature. Think "serum". You wouldn't order something called a Mint Serum would you (you might, I don't know you but I would certainly think twice)?  It sounds like something meant to cure what ails you. Again, literally.

But at some point in the 1790's, a drink quite correctly called a Mint Smash became known as a Mint Julep. Perhaps because drinking one made you feel as though it was curing what ailed you (figuratively, of course).  Or maybe there was a piece of glassware lost to history called the "julep glass"?

For whatever reason, the Julep became a category on it's own (something like a super-sized Smash) and the addition of mint helped popularize icy drinks in the 1800's.

Something about watching James Bond and Goldfinger sipping Mint Juleps in the shade captured my imagination many years before I could order one for myself. The only indication of what it might taste like, besides the presence of mint, are when Bond specifies "Sour mash and not too sweet"and Goldfinger politely asks "Is your Julep tart enough?" Imagine my surprise and momentary disappointment that the Mint Julep isn't even a little bit tart. 

The Mint Julep is a pretty simple drink in terms of flavor. The tobacco, spice and vanilla notes in the bourbon compliment the freshness of the mint and the small amount sugar helps integrate the flavors and soften the harshness of the spirits.  Creamy?  Perhaps. Minty? Definitely. Sweet? Certainly. Tart? Absolutely not.  But it is absolutely delicious and on a long, hot day there is nothing like it.If the Mint Julep has a failing it is also its strength in that it isn't complex. In cooler weather, a busier flavor profile might be a better choice but in the heat, simpler drinks are more refreshing.

But why does Bond specify "Sour mash, and not too sweet"?  By the 1960's, the Mint Julep had been a bourbon (or at least sour mash whiskey) drink for at least a hundred years but in the early days, the Julep could be ordered with gin (Dutch genever, not London dry), brandy or sour mash whiskey (either bourbon or Tennessee whiskey), all with mint but some featuring fruits and additional liqueurs. One recipe features a mix of rye and cognac instead of the bourbon, which is a delightful enhancement.  In any case, James Bond is either a little out of step or showing off how incredibly picky he can be by specifying the spirit the bartender would almost certainly use anyway.

The Mint Julep 

• 2. oz. spirit (I like mine with 1.5 oz. Bulleit bourbon which is high in rye content with .5 oz. Courvoisier V.S. cognac),
• 1 teaspoon superfine sugar
• 5 to 8 spearmint leaves
• 1 oz. water
• crushed ice
• 1 mint sprig for garnish

 Put mint, water and superfine sugar in the bottom of the glass, muddle and set aside for a few minutes. By using superfine sugar, the granules will help abrade the mint leaves before the water turns them into syrup. Simple syrup will work for flavor but won't help express the flavor from the leaves as efficiently. The longer you leave the mint in the syrup, the more mint flavor you will extract.

If you do not have a device to crush the ice, another (and possibly better option) is to put the ice in a canvas bag known as a Lewis Bag and pound away on it with a rubber or wood mallet (I'm not kidding. It's very cathartic) until powdery. The bag will absorb any water so the ice stays dry and won't turn to slush before its time.

Fill your glass with the crushed ice, pour in the bourbon, stir until the glass starts to frost and top with more ice.  Top with a sprig of mint and enjoy on the veranda with a narrow straw, a dangerous blonde and a plans of world domination to warm your heart of gold.

Rum Collins

 In 1934, only one year after the repeal of prohibition in the United States, former bootlegger Don Beach went straight, opened a successful chain of restaurant bars and invented the faux tropical style of cocktail known now as the tiki drink.

Usually based on citrus juices, spices and rum (which was far cheaper than whiskey due to an over-stock on the part of rum runners no longer profiting from the nation's "great experiment"), the tiki drink owed more to the punches, flips and sangarees of the pre-prohibition hey day than the simpler and certainly more spartan Martini and Manhattan cocktails people had been imbibing during the so-called "dry years".  With sweeter, more complex flavors and a new faux island exoticism to market it, the tiki drink ushered in a new class of cocktail drinkers.

To the martini crowd, this new class of drinker must have seemed trendy, inelegant and, frankly, lacking in good taste or sense. I imagine they felt about the tiki drinking crowd then much as I do now about the good folks who, I will assume because they don't know any better (or are 12), swill cotton candy "martinis" and "mud slides" in places like TGIFriday's. "Snobbery," as M says in On Her Majesty's Secret Service, "is a curious thing."

By the time Emilio Largo offers James Bond a Rum Collins in the film version of Thunderball, these two group definitions were well established and, in a world where James Bond can tell a moral weakness in a man's soul just by what he drinks (as he does when Kristatos orders a Brandy Alexander in the short story Risico), a Rum Collins goes a long way to telling 007, as well as the more sophisticated members of the audience, that Largo, while dangerous, is by no means made of the stern, steely eyed stuff that is James Bond.

The Tom or John Collins is a fine tall gin based drink dating well back into the 1800's but I believe the the tiki fad (which was in full swing in the early 1960's, lasted more than 40 years and, after finally going dark in the 1980's, is enjoying a well deserved come back) popularized the substitution of rum over gin. Of course, there is another, perhaps more immediate connotation; the Rum Collins is a drink popular in Cuba, then as now, a predominantly communist nation and Thunderball takes place in the heart of cold war. By offering Bond a Rum Collins, Largo is revealing himself, if not as the enemy, then certainly as "the other".

The recipes for the Rum Collins are many, some dictating as much as 1.5 ounces of lime juice (which is great if you want to turn your mouth into a kind of ceviche but not for this drink) while others recommend 3 ounces of rum which is more than any other ingredient could hope to bring into balance.

Here is the most palatable of the recipes I tried. Shake with ice:

• 2 oz. white rum (I used Cruzan)
• .5 oz. freshly squeezed lime juice
• 1.5 oz. simple syrup (or super fine sugar)

Strain into an ice filled tall (10 oz.) Collins glass, top with soda water, stir lightly and garnish with a cherry and a lime wheel.

This makes a drink that is probably as refreshing and forgettable in the Nasau heat as one might crave. It is slightly sweet, slightly tart with a very faint rum flavor that is all but obscured by the lime and the sugar. It isn't bad; it's just unremarkable.

A delightful twist on the Rum Collins that takes a slice out of the tiki culture and one which James Bond and Ian Fleming almost certainly would have disapproved of is to shake with ice:

• 1 oz. dark, aged rum (I used Lemon Hart 80 proof)
• 1 oz. light rum (Cruzan as before)
• .5 oz. fresh lime juice
• (Replace the sugar with) 1.5 tsp. Fee Brothers' Falernum
• a dash of Angostura aromatic bitters

Strain, top with club soda and serve as above. The dark rum adds flavor and body while the falernum adds sweetness, spice and the kind of interesting tropical funk one might imagine at the bottom of a chest full of lost treasure. The bitters help bring it all home into one deliciously balanced, albeit tiki influenced, cocktail. The rum and lime finally frolic the way they were always meant to while the spices add a kind of interest that keeps your palette just puzzled enough that you keep coming back for more.

This drink makes a pleasant afternoon in the back yard with friends into an evening of hilarious entertainment if, like Emilio Largo and myself, you keep sharks in your swimming pool.

Cheers!

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For more information on Don Beach and the tiki culture he started and helped create as well as many amazing cocktail recipes thought lost to the winds of time, buy yourself a copy of Sippin' Safari by Jeff "Beach Bum" Berry.