Monthly Archives: January 2013

The Fitzgerald Variations

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Like most, we were stupid in our youth. Our stupidity ranged far enough to include believing that gin was best juiced with the green citrus: limes and only limes in our GnTs, darlings. But recently—spurred purhaps by our exploration of saffron-infused gin (the flaming sunrise color recalls the flame and sunshine: heaven and other handwarm places), or purhaps by the inverse fitzgerald a friend made (we’ll get to that)—we’ve been playing with other colors of the citrus rainbow.

Like yellah: lemons, meyer or sweet or straight up sour, pair extremely well with gin. And everything. The classic fitzgerald is a wonderful way to discover this. And so we offer you these fitzgerald variations, interwebs, so that you may conquer your own stupid, should you need to do so.

A good place to start is with the fitzgerald itself: gin, lemon juice, syrup, and bitters. You can add a twist garnish if you’re feeling a bit decadent—and if you didn’t come upon your lemon juice by stealing the flavorful hide of lemons to make a liter of limoncello.

Fitzgerald

To make the classic, you’ll need the following:

  • 1.5 oz gin
  • .75 oz lemon juice
  • .75 oz simple syrup
  • bitters

Combine in a shaker with ice, close, and vigorously rattle. Strain into a chilled glass, with or without ice, as is your preference. We take them up.

Note that for the bitters, you can vary the amount and type to suit your fancy—or to accentuate the character of the spirit that’s forming the base of the drink. We suggest not skimping on the bitters, because they can really make a fitzgerald sing, or zing, or whatever else a refreshing concoction might do. Peychaud’s makes something that looks like pink lemonade and goes down easier. You’ve been warned.

Lavender Daisy

Once you’ve messed with a few iterations of gin and bitters, you can try coming up with new booze permutations. Like scotch. This recipe—which combines two types of bitters—is nice enough I’ve made it thrice.

  • 1.5 oz scotch (blended)
  • .75 oz lemon juice
  • .75 oz simple syrup
  • ample dashes aromatic bitters
  • lavender bitters to finish

Combine all ingredients, except the lavender bitters, in a shaker with ice. Do as before. When the drink’s in a glass, top with a scant dash of lavender bitters. The peat smoke of the scotch and the lavender, lemon, aromatics all meld very well. If I had a fresh sprig of fresh lavender, it might find itself garnishing my drink.

Yellow Desert Fruit

Mezcal also plays very well with lemon; the smokey notes of the spirit taste like dry desert air. And the almost jalapeño-y flavor of Regan’s orange bitters rounds out the drink, almost making Jake miss California.

  • 1.5 oz mezcal
  • .75 oz lemon juice
  • .75 oz simple syrup
  • ample dashes Regan’s orange bitters

As above. This own would probably look nice garnished with a ruby, succulent, cactus fruit.

Gerald Fitzthomas Scott

What originally got us intrigued with the possibilities of the humble fitzgerald was an “upside-down” one that some friends made for us a couple of weeks ago. They had been in Minneapolis, their midwestern hometown, at a cocktail place, and the bartender had impressed them with this:

  • 1.5 oz Angostura
  • .75 oz lemon juice
  • .75 oz simple syrup
  • dashes of gin

As above. This isn’t for folks who don’t like tart, herbaceous drinks, as Angostura, even lemoned, sweetened, and ginned, remains bitter tonguestuff.

Red Slobster Clumps

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Let’s face it: every now and then you’re stuck in the suburbs, back in the abode of the ’rents or forced to endure the isolation that is your significant other’s place of upbringing. During those trying times, what little comfort do you have outside of home cooking? Cable, for one. High speed internet, if you’re lucky. Booze, of course. But likely you’ll be dragged to one of America’s many chain restaurants: Applebee’s, Olive Garden, Red Robin, Chili’s, Red Lobster. You know the drill.

Fuck all that—sometimes you just have a hankering for some crap. We can understand. Our favorite: Red Lobster’s biscuits. Unlike the endless bullshit bread they sling at you at Olive Garden, the rolls at Red Lobster are the shit. Savory, filling, and complimentary to just about anything you can eat. 

Not a fish eater nor a fan of frozen fish from god-knows-where? Here’s a recipe to fulfill your biscuit craving:

Red Slobster Clumps

2 cups unbleached flour
1/4 tbsp baking powder
1 tsp kosher salt
6 tbsp unsalted butter
1 cup buttermilk
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Mix all this good stuff together and then form into ‘lil balls onto a couple of baking sheets lined with parchment paper (to make your life easier). You’ll wanna bake them at about 375-400 degrees for 10-12 minutes, depending on your oven.

Then, mix this fun stuff together:

1/2 cup melted butter
1/8 tsp garlic powder
1/8 tsp onion powder
1 tsp dried parsley 
1/8 tsp salt
a bit of ground pepper

Once the clumps are out of the oven, take a brush and coat each “biscuit.” If the clumps look a little underdone because of your oven, throw it back in for another 3 minutes and you should be good. 

Buttery Appled Rum

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It’s cold like iced balls in New York, which means that you find warmth and comfort where possible. It also means rattling gin, juice, and ice in a shaker till they’re frothy and sparkling remains less than appealing. But hot buttered rum? It’s there when you need it—and when it is below 20 degrees outside, a warm mug in your palm feels right nice.

We’ll keep it manageably intricate this eve: dig around your fridge for some sad, somewhat squishy old apples to caramelize. Put them in a pot with ample amounts of butter, then added turbinado sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Cover and let turn into sweet, syrupy goo. In the meantime, boil a pot of water and choose your spirit: it’s called hot buttered rum, but anything brown will do. Combine ingredients, add some some bitters, and sip till feeling returns to your limbs. Here’s a recipe to get you started.

Buttery Appled Rum

a suitable heaping of caramelized apples, in their syrup
1.5 oz rum
dash or two orange bitters
boiling water to top
 

We’re currently sipping something, somewhere. Be back shortly.