Beverages

Pêche bourbon is simply the French way of saying “peach bourbon.” These two items are as compatible a pairing as strawberries and vanilla. We wanted to showcase our peach-infused bourbon without overshadowing any of its subtle beauty. We blended it in the most straightforward way, with sugar and Peychaud’s bitters, then followed the ritual used to make the classic Sazerac cocktail (opposite): we first “season” the serving glass with French peach cordial. The ingredients swirl together in a slow dance, exciting the palate, then leaving it longing for more. This is a very delicate yet powerful cocktail. It is a great aperitif; it pairs well with grilled meats and seafood; and it is sublime as an after-dinner drink with a fruit tart or cake.

The term “tifozi” is slang used to describe hardcore Italian soccer fans, and there is nothing more hardcore Italian than this aperitivo. The Tifozi (see photo) is an EO original based on the Americano cocktail (opposite), intended to be a humorous salute to its namesake. It is bitter, sweet, sour, and fizzy with the addition of San Pellegrino Aranciata, a natural orange-flavored soda. The lime wheels add freshness and life to the cocktail.

Whether or not this drink is truly an ancestor of today’s Dry Gin Martini (with which it has little in common), it is a great model in the cocktail fossil record because it showcases how certain ingredients were used before the twentieth century: back in the day, maraschino liqueur and orange Curaçao were two cordials used interchangeably (depending on availability) as sweeteners in cocktails. Vermouth was always sweet Italian red vermouth; French or dry vermouth were not popular in cocktail making until the end of the nineteenth century. Legend says this drink was named for the small Northern California town where a Gold Rush miner ordered “one for the road” before heading for the hills.

This EO original aperitif (see photo) was inspired by the Negroni cocktail (page 42). It is a great example of how elegant and complex three liquids blended in a cocktail can be. Its rich flavors come from amaro, which we use in place of Campari, and Punt e Mes, in place of traditional sweet vermouth. Amaro is a bitter Italian digestif made from herbs and plants; for the Nerina, we prefer Meletti amaro, which has a beautiful spice profile with lingering notes of cinnamon, but is light on caramel compared to other amaros. Punt e Mes is a highly bittersweet aromatized wine, considered by some to be the original of Italian vermouth. Combined and blended with gin, the ingredients create a cocktail of simple sophistication. The name is a nod to the classic Negroni cocktail. Being a dark-hued drink, Nerina comes from nera, the feminine Italian word for black.

In the mythology of classic mixology, the Martinez is purported to be the predecessor to the Dry Gin Martini. When we researched the original version of this cocktail, though, we saw very little resemblance to what people today refer to as a Martini. In an act of artistic interpretation, we devised a recipe to be the “missing link” to articulate the evolution of these two iconic cocktails. In doing so, we created a more dry—and more exciting—flavor profile than that of the original Martinez. Our missing link provides an experience with a beginning, middle, and finish that lingers, leaving you craving more. This is best achieved with the combination of Beefeater 24 gin, accents of maraschino liqueur, and the super velvetiness of Dolin Blanc vermouth. Finally, our own homemade Absinthe Bitters round it out and add incredible depth. This drink has been offered on our aperitif menu since we opened Employees Only. It goes great with raw oysters or raw bar of any kind and works well with summery salads and seared scallops.

Most people today understand a Manhattan to be bourbon whiskey with a dash of vermouth, shaken or stirred—little more than a nice way to order a big shot of whiskey. Only recently have people once again acknowledged the necessity of bitters in the recipe. What happened? Prohibition all but annihilated rye whiskey production in this country; by the end of World War II, America had embraced Canadian whiskies as rye, even though most are made of a blend of grains. When we first began bartending, it was common for Manhattans to be made with Seagram’s VO or Crown Royal. But in the early 1990s, bartenders making Manhattans gravitated toward newly released single-barrel and small-batch bourbons to meet the expectations of the luxury crowd. As with Martinis, these customers demanded only a whisper of vermouth so as not to destroy the precious whiskey. Our recipe is an excellent expression of a Manhattan made with soft-natured bourbon. Rye whiskey makes a sharp, racy alternative. As for cherries, keep clear of the big artificial ones floating in eerie red dye. Pit fresh cherries and soak them for a few days in amaretto or cherry liqueur instead.

The Manhattan cocktail we serve is not to be confused with the contemporary Manhattan. This recipe first appeared in the latter part of the nineteenth century and is referenced in later editions of How to Mix Drinks or the Bon Vivant’s Companion as well as Harry Johnson’s 1882 Bartenders’ Manual. This forgotten formula has a higher ratio of sweet vermouth to rye whiskey, with an accent of orange Curaçao and Boker’s bitters, served straight up with a lemon twist. Cherries in Manhattans came later as the mixture evolved into a different cocktail. The subtle mingling of flavors in this version illustrates an older style of drink making. Of course, as with any epic cocktail, there are several conflicting stories about its origins. Our favorite version has Winston Churchill’s mother, Jennie, ordering its creation for the celebration of Samuel Tilden’s election as governor of New York at the Manhattan Club. As exciting as this may sound, it seems that little Winston had more to do with disproving the theory. At the time of the election, Lady Churchill was in England giving birth to Winston, and the only noted celebration for Tilden actually coincided with the day of Winston Churchill’s christening.

This original EO aperitif pays tribute to Italian gastronomy. Its main ingredient, Fernet Branca—made of overly bitter barks, herbs, and spices—is traditionally served as a digestive, but it is rarely used in cocktails because it tends to overpower all other ingredients. Fernet is purported to be a cure-all for many ailments—upset stomachs, menstrual cramps, baby colic, even cholera. It is an acquired taste, which makes it the favorite shot of bartenders who gravitate toward flavors rejected by the general public. The Fernando is rich and chocolaty, slightly sweet, with a bitter finish. To complete the cocktail, the bartender smacks a fresh mint sprig in the palm of the hand to release the essential mint oils. This cocktail is ideal for Negroni drinkers and diehard fans of Fernet alike.

The Elderflower Spritz is EO’s version of the St-Germain cocktail invented by Robert Cooper, the creator of St-Germain liqueur. The difference is that we add lemon slices for citrus in the middle. Our recipe was developed as a French version of the Italian Spritz, to offer to guests who dislike the bitterness of Aperol. Its flowery essence is calming and soothing, with a welcome simplicity.

The Campari Spritz is the predecessor of the Aperol Spritz. Whereas the Aperol version is soft, the Campari version is bold and assertive, so it is served in a smaller rocks glass and garnished with one large green olive. With its robust nature, the Campari Spritz is a very popular aperitivo alongside various antipasti containing olive oil, spices, fresh mozzarella, and seafood such as octopus, calamari, and clams.

I consider myself a pretty high-energy guy, but some mornings, even I need something that will really wake me up. The fresh ginger and pinch of salt brighten the fresh fruit and vegetable juices here, making this an ideal breakfast drink. It also cures a hangover like nothing else. Or so I’m told . . .

One summer morning, I decided to make good use of the ripe stone fruit I had picked up at the farmer’s market. I didn’t have any brioche at home, but I did have a loaf of sourdough. It turned out that the tanginess of the bread was delicious with the sweet fruit. And amaretto adds just the right hint of almond.

Served under Soy-Syrup Roasted Duck (page 142), this super-tender cabbage perfectly balances the richness of the meat. But I love it so much, I eat it on its own, too. As always with fresh cabbage, I add the juniper berries at the end to lightly perfume the dish.

As quick as a stir-fry, this is my go-to fast food. My take on veal scaloppine uses ham, Riesling, and, best of all, lavender. The floral herb is similar to sage and works beautifully here. I prefer the aroma of the tiny purple buds on the flowers, but if you can’t find those, the leaves work well, too.

If you want to impress at a dinner party, this is the dish to make. The secret ingredient? Jordan almonds, those impossibly hard candies handed out at weddings. They turn into a gorgeous caramelized crust on the roasted duck breast. Simply cooked baby turnips make an elegant accompaniment.

This is the type of salad my mom used to make—unfussy and delicious. It’s best with fresh spring potatoes and onions, but it hits the spot any time of year. While I love drinking dry white Alsatian whites, I enjoy making this salad with a good Sancerre.

My grandmother used to take whatever extra livers we had—calf, chicken, goose—and cook them with bacon and a splash of Cognac. She chopped the mixture with a mezzaluna, creating a rustic spread. I swap pancetta for the bacon and puree the mixture in a food processor to create a creamy mousse.

Even though I originally conceived of this as my take on homemade ginger ale, I’m hesitant to call it that. It’s such a far cry from the sugary bottled stuff. It has an intense gingery heat that’s heightened by the acidity from the lemon. Be sure to use a fresh bottle of club soda here. (I prefer the little bottles of Schweppes.) You need the fizziness to deliver the flavor.

This is ideal as a summer refresher, but tastes great any time of year. I love combining lemon and thyme in savory dishes, and they taste great together in this sweet drink, too. Lemon thyme, which has a light citrus note, is available in specialty stores and is easy to grow in your garden. I prefer using brands of citrus vodka that have clean flavors, like Skyy and Grey Goose Le Citron. Other times, I leave the vodka out altogether—definitely when I’m serving this to kids!

To get through the winter months, I rely on bright, in-season citrus like blood oranges. A nice, dry bubbly heightens their vibrant sweetness, as does orange-flavored liqueur. For the flavors to bind properly, you need to combine—but not stir—the ingredients before pouring into flutes. If you can’t find Crémant d’Alsace, my sparkling wine of choice, a dry cava will work as well.