Garnishes

Smoked Tomato Gibson

It’s almost Summer in Sydney. Not, of course, that Sydney ever languishes in the depths of winter for particularly long. Depth of any form, as seen in seasonal changes, thought provoking artworks, literary tomes etc, is not something that Sydney does well; had Tolstoy lived in Sydney, he’d have been hard pressed to write a beer ad.

As the weather warms up I instinctively begin to desire to spend the majority of my time being idle. The first rays of spring hit me and I emerge from my winter chrysalis of tax returns and credit card bills as a supremely indolent butterfly, languid fluttering in the direction of a deckchair and drink combination (and thus begins the process of re-bloating the credit card debt).

The warmer weather, and the balmy nights in particular, need an alfresco barbecue-y drink. Which is a legitimate description, fuck you very much. With the notable exception of the bloody mary, savoury flavours are unfortunately overlooked in the pantheon of popular cocktails.

I like the tomato in a bloody mary for it’s particular mix of acidity and umami, however I wanted the kick of a short drink, so in this case I’ve based the drink around a gibson. To reduce the volume of liquid I have to add, while retaining the tomato acidity and umami flavours, I’ve used what basically amounts to a concentrated tomato soup with some added Worster sauce.

———-

Smoked Tomato Gibson
45ml barrel aged gin
10ml Dolin dry french vermouth
10ml smoked tomato concentrate
2 dashes of Worcestershire sauce
1 thin slice of dill pickle (sliced lengthwise)
Small fennel leaf sprig
¼ teaspoon of pickle juice
Tiny amount of sea salt

Stir ingredients over ice and serve up (chilled cocktail glass). Garnish with the slice of dill pickle skewered on a toothpick, and the fennel sprig floated on top.

———-

Smoked Tomato Concentrate
3 Vine ripened tomatoes
4 Roma tomatoes
1 row of cherry tomatoes on the vine
Large onion
2 garlic cloves
1 fennel bulb
¼ cup fresh tarragon
¼ cup flat-leaf parsley
black pepper
1 tsp sea salt
olive oil

Dried jasmine rice and wood chips (for smoking)

Place dry rice and wood chips in the bottom of an uncoated steel/aluminium vessel. Lay a folded piece of alfoil over the top of the rice and wood chip, and set on a medium heat on a barbecue (it’s possible to do the same thing in the bottom of a wok on your stove, but you’ll want to disconnect your smoke detector). Place the cherry tomatoes on the foil, loosely cover the vessel, and check periodically until the tomatoes have started to blacken and wilt. No surprisingly, they should also smell smokey.

Coarsely chop your smoked tomatoes, fresh tomatos, onions, garlic, and fennel. Reserve a few fronds of fennel for a cocktail garnish, but toss the rest – along with onions and garlic – into a large stock pot with olive oil, and soften it all up over medium heat for about 12-15 minutes. Add the herbs towards the end of this period and cover with 4 cups of water. Allow to simmer for 45 minutes.

After the soup is cooked, strain the solids out with cheesecloth, bring back up to a simmer, allow the liquid to reduce by half, then remove from the heat and allow to cool. The concentrate can be used as it, but I have found that a freeze/thaw strain is quite good at removing most of the particulates. Don’t worry about perfect clarification, which would be difficult as tomatos have bugger all gelatin in them. If the cloudiness bothers you, it would be possible to add gelatin or use an egg raft, or even use agar clarification.

It’s worth noting that the strained tomato, onion and fennel solids work quite well as the base for a number of tomato based stews, such as a ragu or bouillabaisse, so chuck them in a container for later.

To increase the shelf life of the clarified soup, and prevent the martini from becoming overly diluted, I have generally added enough of a high proof neutral alcohol (spiritas or a neutral vodka) to take the alcohol content up to around 15%. Alternatively, it freezes very well, and also goes particularly well with a cheese toasty.

Three Late Night Classics

I’ve posted before about stress begetting nightcaps. Most people who work in an office, at one time or another, are stuck there post 9:30pm, working on something contemptible. Usually when that happens to me, I find myself hissing an Arya Stark style list of people responsible for my inability to relocate to a couch.

Alternatively however, I sometimes find myself up late, working on something interesting. This can happen at work, though I suspect it’s more common for people working on self driving cars at Google X than, say, for junior auditors at big accounting firms. I find it happens quite a bit at home; you’ve got a great idea, and you’re in the mood let your imagination soar like an eagle of genius on an updraft of inspiration, effortlessly floating above an ocean of tenuous metaphor.

When this trifecta of awesome occurs (it’s a trifecta; I will not tolerate people pointing that it isn’t), you need a drink that will fuel your flight. Assuming you made it through my protective barrier of wankery, below you will find the Functional Alchemist twist on three classic cocktails that we find rather perfectly compliment an evening of artistic endeavour.

Tip: Dispose of any poetry you write before heading to bed, and logout of Facebook before your first drink. Neither bare reckoning in the cold light of day. Also, if your style of inspiration involves dramatic hand gestures, use paper rather than your laptop to document your thoughts.

Hanky Panky

The Hanky Panky is a classic from Harry Craddock’s Savoy Cocktail Book. It is attributed to Ada Coleman (probably the most prominent female entry in mixology’s lopsidedly male history), who was the head bartender at the Savoy from 1903 to 1923; a remarkable feat given the time. The drink is, in it’s original form, one of the finest drinks I’ve ever tasted.

Here I’ve toyed slightly with the recipe to give the drink a more citrus-y character. The Maidenii is a spectacular semi-sweet vermouth which pairs the usual vermouth suspects with hints of strawberry gum and wattle. For the gin I’ve specified a dry London, though this drink highlights the interplay between botanicals, so any number of interesting new gins might do well. I particularly recommend the Botanist or Four Pillars.

This recipe calls for slightly more Fernet Branca than the classic two dashes, though Fernet bottles don’t have a drip insert so a “dash” could have be just about anything. I’ve also added some Cointreau, which adds a touch of sweetness and highlights the light peel notes in the vermouth. Note that they are both fairly dosage specific – the best bet is to use a 15ml jigger and try to fill it half and half with each, erring on the fernet side.

35ml dry gin

30ml Maidenii Classic Vermouth

8ml Fernet Branca

7ml Cointreau

Combine ingredients and stir over ice, then serve in a cocktail glass with a twist of lemon.

————-

Sazerac

No need to be overly descriptive here: This is what happens when you leave ordinary people in possession of herbs and fire. The blazer influence is clear and so it should be. You’d be stupid not to notice, and for that matter, to disagree.

I’ve avoided giving volumes here, as you are essentially just working on flavouring the base spirit (and can make it in any ratio you prefer), but should you choose to go with around two shots (60ml) of Rye, 10ml of simple syrup is a good starting point. The wash should coat the glass and give you something to flame, and a dash is formally given at 1/6th of a teaspoon (slightly less than 1ml), though in the case of the absinthe perhaps a touch more is needed. As always, experimentation is key.

Rye

Absinthe wash

Perchaudes Bitters

Thyme

Simple syrup

Wash an old fashioned glass in absinthe, coating the thyme. Set alight and burn off, then block the top of the glass to put out the flames. Stir rye, simple syrup and a dash more absinthe over ice, and add dash or two of bitters to taste. Serve in washed and flamed glass. Garnish with a crushed and lightly flamed slice of lemon peel and a flamed bay laurel leaf. Traditionally this drink is served without ice, however the glass will be warmish due to the flaming, so I leave that up to you.

————

Daiquiri

As an idiotic teenager making my initial forays into the world of booze, I was repulsed by daiquiris; I didn’t have bad taste, I was just stupid enough to confuse the pre-mixed, sugar and fruit monstrosities floating around with something resembling the legitimate form. Here, the ratios shown are designed to hit that sweet spot between the warmth and depth of the rum (it seems like a lot, just have some faith), the acidity from the lime, with just a touch of sweetness as a level. The coconut syrup brings a rich, if subtle, caramel note to the drink – and what’s more tropical than coconut?

75ml spiced rum

30ml freshly squeezed lime juice (if fresh lime juice is unavailable, substitute everything and make something that’s not a daiquiri)

15ml coconut sugar syrup

Combine over ice and shake well (a Boston shaker will do nicely). Serve up, in a cocktail glass.

————

Maraschino Cherries

Maraschino-Cherries

I like aviations. The cocktail, obviously. No one likes spending 10 hours shoehorned in a gravity-defying aluminium can. That sherbet-y combination of lemon juice, maraschino liqueur, and creme de violette, bolstered with a fresh juniper kick, is pretty much my idea of a perfect summer’s evening. It is also, more than any other, the drink that rediscovered the joys of the maraschino cherry and for that I owe it, and the general resurgence of cocktail culture, a tremendous debt of gratitude.

Maraschino cherries were originally marasca cherries preserved in maraschino liqueur, a local delicacy of the Dalmatian region in Croatia. On the off chance the area is drawing a blank, just think of King’s Landing in Game of Thrones. They became quite popular in the States in the late 19th century, declined in popularity in the early 20th, then became completely illegal during prohibition. This killed off the original recipe and saw it replaced with the fluoro red candied abomination.

There are few things on Earth that I despise more than imitation maraschino cherries, yet for the entire first decade of my drinking life, I was incessantly tortured with them; bar after bar would ruin my manhattan, and as such my day, with those rancid morsels. Have you ever seen a grown man break down with tears when served a manhattan? Well, this is exactly what you would have witnessed in those dark times (except that “grown man” implies a level of maturity I strive to never achieve).

Virtually every cocktail blog on earth has published a maraschino cherry recipe, but we’re big believers in following the crowd and mercilessly tormenting anyone who stands out, so we figured we should get ours up pronto. Also, we really like maraschino cherries, and they feature in a few upcoming recipes. Actually, that’s the main reason.

Unfortunately it’s almost impossible to get a suitable sour cherry in Sydney, so what we’ve come up with uses sweet cherries with a slightly modified approach. We steep the cherries for a day or two first, and then briefly simmer them with simple syrup and lemon juice. This might seem a little unnecessary, but the steeping increases the booze permeation of the cherries, and creates an enjoyable contrast between the cherries and the sweet/sour preservation liquid.

———-

Maraschino Cherries

500g pitted cherries
1.5 cup maraschino liqueur
1 cup water
¾ cup sugar
Juice of 1 lemon

Steep pitted cherries in a maraschino liqueur for three days, then remove the cherries and reserve the liquid. Bring sugar and water to the boil, reduce to a simmer and add the cherries, simmering for no more than 3 minutes. Remove from the heat and add the juice of one lemon, followed by the reserved maraschino liqueur, and allow to cool slightly before bottling.

An unnecessarily thorough guide to drying citrus

Many and varied are the uses for dried citrus: it serves a multitude of delicious culinary functions; finds a home in tea, desserts & syrups; apparently performs decorative and homeopathic tasks (neither of which are in any way endorsed by us); almost certainly has a role in a number of fetish activities that we definitely know absolutely nothing about; and, most relevantly, flavours cocktails and liqueurs.

If, like us, you’re the kind of person who likes a good drink and has the motivation to faff about in the kitchen making some of your own ingredients, drying your own citrus is a sensible idea. We began drying orange zest to flavour the amaro and vermouth we’re making (updates on their progress at a later date), though soon discovered it’s also very useful for flavouring simple syrups.

Drying fruit serves the two main purposes of concentrating flavour and significantly increasing longevity. The technique is remarkably simple and, relative to purchasing pre-dried goods, it’s very cost effective. The methods and recipes below can be adapted to any citrus you might fancy.

Zest

Start with the best quality fruit you can source, then thoroughly wash. Peel the orange in whatever way you find easiest until left with only the coloured skin – pith will increase the bitterness. If you haven’t done so in a while, you might want to clean your oven before you begin. The zest will be in the oven for hours and you don’t want it taking on the aroma of cremated pork fat. If you can’t leave your oven door permanently ajar open it periodically to allow moisture, and pleasant citrusy aromas, to escape.

There can be a significant disparity in the drying time across different batches. Some of ours were fully dried and crisp to the touch after 3 hours, while others required up to six – just keep an eye on them after a couple of hours. You’ll know it’s done when it’s reduced in size by about 50%, and is reasonably brittle. Dry, really.

———-
Dried Orange Zest

2-3 Good quality oranges, washed (makes approximately 1 loosely packed cup)

If you have a sharp vegetable peeler, run it over the oranges. This should leave you with only the zest. If not, cut slices off with a knife, then remove all the white pith with a paring or serrated knife.

Preheat your oven to 60C. Place orange zest on a wire rack in the top third of the oven. Either leave the door slightly ajar, or open it periodically.

Dry for 3-6 hours, or until fully dehydrated and crisp. Store in an airtight container.
———-

Fruit

There are a number of ways you can go about drying slices of the fruit: unadulterated (sliced, zest and pith left on the flesh); skinned (sliced, zest and pith removed); and flavoured (dried with herbs and/or spices).

The unadulterated version is, unsurprisingly, the simplest. Cut the fruit into 5mm slices, then dry in the same manner as the zest. Slices will take longer than zest to dry given the increased thickness and moisture content, somewhere in the order of 8-10 hours. We used some of these whole slices as a flavouring agent for our initial batch of vermouth.

Drying slices without the zest and pith produces an end result with a sweeter, less complex flavour. All citrus survives only very briefly once the zest has been removed, so this is a good method for using any zested fruit you don’t plan on eating immediately. The best use for these is simply applying them directly to your face – they are essentially delicious orange chips.

———-
Dried Orange Chips

1 Orange makes 6-10 chips, depending on size, so adjust to how many you require

Slice the top and bottom off each orange, then sit flat and cut away all remaining skin and pith. Cut the orange crossways into 5mm slices.

Preheat your oven to 60C. Space out the orange slices on a wire rack and dry until completely crisp, approximately ten hours. Store in an airtight container.
———-

You can be quite creative with what you use to flavour as citrus pairs well with a broad range of herbs and spices. Infused citrus helps make a great batch of mulled wine or punch. With herbs, spread them out in the bottom of a baking tray to form a bed for the slices, then drizzle with a little olive oil. Lightly seasoning the citrus prior to drying will highlight any herby goodness that they absorb. If you’re opting to spice the fruit first toast and grind any whole spices, then rub over the flesh with a little olive oil prior to drying.

———-
Rosemary Infused Orange Slices

1 Orange makes 6-10 slices, so adjust to how many you require

Slice the top and bottom off each orange, then cut each orange crossways into 5mm slices.

Preheat your oven to 60C. Spread a sizeable bunch of rosemary over the base of a baking tray and drizzle with olive oil. Top with the oranges, lightly season, then cook until completely dried, approximately ten hours. Store in an airtight container.
———-

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: