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An Irish Bar on an Irish Holiday
Ok, so maybe itâ??s not officially an Irish holiday, but when you get pinched for not wearing green or just plain cussed out at a bar, you have to wonder which nationality would have any desire to claim St. Patickâ??s Day as their own creation. I do enjoy Irish whiskeyâ??s and beers on occasion, but St. Patrickâ??s day can either provide you with a great excuse to have a couple of Guinnessâ??s or get completely sloshed, depending on which route you want to take. If you want a real Irish experience in Seattle and donâ??t want to stray far from Capital Hill, then Clever Dunneâ??s on Olive Way is the place for you.
Youâ??re probably wondering why Iâ??m reviewing this bar post St. Patrickâ??s Day, and I understand your confusion, but sometimes in the wake of the complete drunken personal destruction often associated with drinking on March 17th, you realize that sometimes in the middle of summer or even in the rainy depths of autumn, you crave a bar with real Irish grit. And thatâ??s exactly how Iâ??d describe Clever Dunneâ??s. Itâ??s not a great place to go on that Irish holiday if you donâ??t like large raucous crowds and singing that lasts far beyond last call. Heck, to help give this bar the Irish respect and credibility it deserves, Iâ??ve even seen some knock-down, drag-out fights at the place, and those werenâ??t even associated with a holiday at all.
Clever Dunne’s is warm, friendly, and downright quaint as far as Irish bars go. Sure Seattle has other bars with similar cultural flair, like Fado for example, but none of them has the real feel of a back-alley brew house in Dublin quite the way Clever Dunne’s accomplishes this hard to duplicate or simulate atmosphere. The floors are made of long pine planks that take on the odor and moisture while the walls seem to swell and sway with the crowds, this observation however may just be dependant on the number of drinks you’ve already enjoyed but it’s a cozy little place when there’s a crowd out enjoying the night. There are a handful of tables with old rickety chairs and small bars here and there with bar stools. Most of the time though it’s either feast or famine with the size of the crowd. I’m usually either wading my way to the bar through ha sea of people or all by my lonesome enjoying a Strongbow at a quiet table.
The bar has dartboards and a multitude of different nooks and crannies with which to sit and enjoy a pint or shot or two. I especially enjoy Clever Dunneâ??s on warm summer nights when they open the windows and shutters facing the street and serve beer to bar patrons from the sills of the open windows. Iâ??ve never had a negative experience at this bar with any of the bar staff and the patrons are a rowdy but friendly group on most nights. Drinks are medium priced and poured stiff and even if you happen to find yourself inside this establishment on a weeknight, youâ??ll certainly enjoy the authentic Irish feel and hospitality that Clever Dunneâ??s is famous for providing.
Bloody Mary
There are at least two creation myths for the Bloody Mary; one, that producer and song writer George Jessel created the first by adding vodka to his tomato juice in his apartment in Palm Beach in 1927. But in 1926 an American bartender named Fernand Petiot was working at Harry's New York Bar in Pairs, the exceedingly famous drinking hole favored by the likes of Hemingway and Fitzgerald, was mixing a cocktail made of equal parts of tomato juice and vodka. Later, in 1934, back in the U.S. in a real New York bar, the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis in New York, Petiot spiced up the drink, now known as the Bloody Mary despite the hotel's attempt to change it "Red Snapper," by adding cayenne pepper, black pepper, Worcestershire sauce, lemon, and a big dash of Tabasco. It increases in popularity, rapidly. Then, in 1950, George Jessel takes out an ad in Collier's that assumes credit for inventing the drink. Then, on July 19, 1964, Petiot tells the New Yorker:
I initiated the Bloody Mary of today. George Jessel said he created it, but it was really nothing but vodka and tomato juice when I took it over. I cover the bottom of the shaker with four large dashes of salt, two dashes of black pepper, two dashes of cayenne pepper, and a layer of Worcestershire sauce; I then add a dash of lemon juice and some cracked ice, put in two ounces of vodka and two ounces of thick tomato juice, shake, strain, and pour.
That is, pretty much, the basic recipe for a Bloody Mary today. Who really created it? I don't know; I note that there's a time line here, and the Tabasco company's take here; you decide. Me, I rather strongly suspect that neither Jessel nor Petiot were the actual "inventor," but that more than one poor soul had turned to the basic combination of ingredients in a bloody Mary as a hair-of-the-dog hangover remedy the morning after.
Here's a more specific recipe
- Two highball glasses.
- 1oz. to 2 oz. decent vodka.
- 1 dash celery salt or kosher salt
- 1 to 3 shakes of ground black pepper
- 1 dash Tabasco
- 2–4 dashes of Lea & Perrin's Worcestershire sauce
- Dash of fresh lemon juice
- Add bottled tomato juice to the ice, until the glass is fairly full.
Either add the ingredients to a highball glass pre-filled with ice up to about an inch from the top, and pour it into an empty glass, then back to the ice filled glass to mix the ingredients, or, alternatively, use a shaker with ice and then strain over the highball glass filled with ice. Garnish to taste.
Now, let's stop there for just a moment and carefully consider garnish. Inarguably, one of the most important elements of a truly fabulous bloody mary is the garnish. The most basic garnish is the simple, classic: a celery stalk, with maybe a skewer of olives, and a wedge of lemon. There's absolutely no reason to be boring when you garnish your bloody mary, though, and very good reasons to show some creativity and panache when you're assembling "the salad" (what a friend of mine calls bloody mary garnishes, with particular relish [sic]) when you have a perfect chance to complement the zesty and savory nature of this drink. A particularly nice touch is to include pickled asparagus spears or spicy pickled green beans. You can use different varieties of olives, wedges of lemon and lime, or long spears of cucumber. The idea is to serve the bloody mary with what amounts to a small side-salad of garnish.
Keep in mind that a bloody mary is only as good as its ingredients, and that's particularly true of the vodka, and the tomato juice. I favor Gray Goose, Ketel One, or Three olives. Yes, you can make a decent bloody mary with other vodkas, but I'd rather drink something superior, than drink something that's simply "decent." The tomato juice really is better if it's been bottled rather than canned, and best still if it's from your juicer (with the seeds filtered out)—but don't forget you'll need a bit more salt if you juice your own tomatoes. I like to put the juice in the freezer for a few minutes to really chill it through. You might favor the spicy tomato juice rather than the plain, or even V8 or clamato juice. You might favor lime instead of lemon. Many people also like to add about an 1/8 of a teaspoon of plain grated horseradish (i.e. not the creamed sauce). Experimentation is key. Use the things you like best, and go lightly or leave out altogether the elements you don't care for. There's nothing subtle about a bloody mary; this is a drink that's all about an explosion of fresh, zesty flavors.
Traditionally, a bloody mary is a popular drink for brunches, frequently offered as a choice along with a mimosa. But they're awfully refreshing on a hot summer day, as well, and make a marvelous pre-dinner appetizer. It's a lovely complement to finger foods, like a veggie platter or peel-and-eat shrimp.
The perfect vodka martini!
Okay, I left off last time with a ringing endorsement for the classic gin martini. At risk of sounding like a heretic, I have to admit that my absolute personal favorite martini is a vodka martini, very dry, dirty, with three bleu cheese-stuffed olives. Now, this isn't something I discovered on my own. I had a pal who swore solemnly to me over a year ago that no matter how weird it sounded, it was absolutely the best vodka martini she'd ever had. I'd honestly sort of forgotten, until I ordered a dirty vodka martini in a bar known for excellent martinis a short time ago, and they brought me precisely the martini my friend had described, garnished with bleu cheese-stuffed olives.
I can already imagine your disbelief about the bleu cheese olives, I felt the same way before I'd tried it. So bear with me—because during the course of my careful and painstaking research, I drank a lot of different vodka martinis, with a lot of different garnishes. Hands-down, the most interesting, savory, and satisfying vodka martini I sampled was the martini I'm about to describe, so you can recreate this most perfect cocktail for yourself.
First of all, I vastly prefer to consume martinis at home, in the company of good friends. For that to be a satisfying experience you have to learn to mix a terrific martini. If you've no interest or aptitude for making drinks, though, you're much better off going out. Just take a cab or get a ride with a sober friend, because you'll definitely want more than one.
For our purposes, I recommend Grey Goose vodka, although in a pinch Ketel One is certainly palatable. I have friends who swear by the various organic vodkas available, though I've not yet tried them. Personally, I prefer Grey Goose, hands down. Pop your martini glasses into the freezer for a bit to chill.
I hunted all over for bleu cheese-stuffed olives, and couldn't find them. I found feta-stuffed olives, but it didn't seem quite the thing, so I brought home a jar of ordinary martini olives, fished out the pimentos with a toothpick, and stuffed the gutted olives with bleu cheese. Through trial and error, I figured out that this process went more smoothly once I'd left the cheese on the counter to warm to room temperature. Once you've restuffed the olives, you can squeeze a wedge of lemon over them, which adds just another hint of subtle complexity to the martini.
Like with gin, I typically keep vodka in the freezer. It lets me skip all the tedious business with shakers and straining and watery spirits. [NOTE: Most bottles carry labels warning you not to store the booze in the freezer. You should probably follow that advice.]
Take the now frosted martini glass out of the freezer, rinse with a few drops of dry vermouth, splash about a quarter-shot of olive juice into the glass, add the vodka, and swizzle the mix with three of your re-stuffed olives on a toothpick.
If bleu cheese just isn't your thing, then certainly you can use ordinary olives and you'll still have a lovely dirty vodka martini.
Cheers!
The perfect martini at home
Hunt for the Perfect Martini
I've recently discovered martinis. Not the fruity concoctions served in a martini glass—lemondrops, cosmopolitans, or other cocktails. Not the various flavored vodkas so fashionable for chocolate "martinis" or appletinis, and so on. While those are perfectly legitimate cocktails, they're served in a martini glass, and they're well worth exploring—they aren't what I mean when I say "martini".
Nope, I mean the good old-fashioned James Bond-style martini. The classic, traditional martini means gin.
Let's talk about different gins for just a minute while I'm thinking about it. I'm one of those people who, if I can't afford the good stuff, would rather just wait until I can. So if your preferred hootch is that clear mystery-mix in a plastic bottle that tastes like nothing so much as it tastes like lighter-fluid, this probably isn't the post for you.
So for our purposes, when I say "gin" I mean Bombay Sapphire dry gin.
Now, I tend to believe in experience being the best teacher. I have friends who drink martinis, have done so for years, and who kept actively trying to convert me to their martini religion. So—in spite of having been a bourbon-on-the-rocks drinker for the last several years—I set about to learn martinis. A month later, nearing the bottom of a bottle each of vodka and gin, I have to admit: The martini is a damned fine drink, done properly.
Let's start with gin. If you walk into your favorite upscale cocktail place, and order a martini, your bartender will want some information. Most basically, do you have a preference for brand? How dry? With olives, or with a twist? We've already talked about brand; you want good gin. Most bars have Sapphire gin, and although you'll pay a bit more, it's worth it. Dryness refers to how much vermouth and less often what kind of vermouth you expect the bartender to use. If you hate green olives, you'll either want a twist of lemon, or if you're a roguish and adventuresome sort of soul, a cocktail onion (which turns your martini into a Gibson.) Your bartender probably doesn't have any cocktail onions. They've mostly gone out of fashion.
My recommendation? Ask the bartender for a Sapphire martini, very dry, with three olives. But I really like olives, and I'm not a big fan of vermouth. Now, this is good. This is really, really good. The gin should be icy cold, and like breathing resinous mountain air, the vermouth adding overtones of complexity in every sip, with the olives to sort of nibble on, throughout the experience. When I make martinis at home, I put both the bottle of gin and the martini glasses in the freezer overnight, because I'm stone lazy about things like cocktail shakers, and I never have enough ice on hand to make as many drinks as I want. (Break the seal on the gin, first, if you haven't opened it yet. And if the bottle explodes, you'll please note that it's not MY fault: the label on the bottle clearly warns you NOT to put it in the freezer, what on EARTH were you thinking?)
Take the martini glass out of the fridge, put about a capful of dry vermouth in the glass and swish it around. Dump the leftover vermouth down the sink (or into the next martini glass) and fill with icy-cold gin. Spear two or three olives on a toothpick, and give the gin a swizzle with the garnish when you drop the olives into the alcohol. Sip, don't guzzle—but sip fast. Warm gin tastes a lot like cheap cologne, even the top-shelf varieties.
Next time, the perfect vodka martini.
The Mojito
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Making Great Picon at Home
If youâ??ve read the recent article about Picon-Beer and the bitters known as Picon, youâ??re probably like me and wanting to experience what this concoction is like first hand. After much searching I have found a pretty good recipe from a very reliable source to help you create your own version of Picon. While itâ??s not exactly the same, if youâ??re using it for cocktails the differences will likely be imperceptible. Another thing to note is the fact that along with variations in the ingredients come variations in the final product, whether thatâ??s the color, smell, taste, or texture of the Picon has to do with which particular ingredients were changed or omitted.
Bartender Jamie Boudreauâ??s version, which he has aptly named the â??Amer Boudreauâ? goes like this:
Amer Boudreau
Ingredients: 3 bottles Amaro Ramazzotti- Available in the US 7 ½ cups orange tincture (See below for instructions on how to make this) ¾ bottle Stirrings Blood Orange bitters ¾ liter Evian or other high quality, bottled waterSteps:
The first step after you have made your orange tincture is to combine all the ingredients in a large container and stir until they are sufficiently mixed together. After they have been stirred you will need to let the contents sit for at least one week, preferably two. Next, get your hands on a strainer and pour the concoction through it to filter out any small pieces of tincture or other impurities. It is best to keep the final product in an air-tight container or bottle and refrigerate it for longest shelf life. So breaking it down you basically mix the ingredients together and let them be for a week or two. Not too incredibly hard, but the key to making the Picon is in the tincture. This is not such an easy task. Below you will find one of the best orange tincture recipeâ??s Iâ??ve come across yet.