Sweet Vermouth, Hidden Dragon

Sweet vermouth is taken for granted. Much-maligned, even. It turns out this is because WE ARE ALL PHILISTINES. On a total side bar, when I was little I got Philistines and Palestinians confused embarrassingly often. But now I know. "Philistines" is the thing that I was BEFORE SWEET VERMOUTH NIGHT. I will tell you why. Because Mr. Dances with Gin, at the demand of his lovely girlfriend from our European Bureau made vermouth and tonic with a number of different kinds of sweet vermouth. They are amazingly complex, unique things. He can talk about it more, if he likes, but I must say that I was stunned, and honored to be fighting such a worthy opponent. Since then I have empirically combined tonic with a number of different things, including Punt-e-mes vermouth, cinzano, all my amari (Lucano, Melletti, Luxardo Abano, Ramazzotti, Montenegro, and Fernet Branca), and have been discovering dimensions to these things I had never even guessed at.

Nevertheless, I fought. For honor.

My classic, served as an apperitif in the cocktail pump, was the Negroni:

Negroni:

1 part gin (Plymouth, please!)

1 part sweet vermouth (Cinzano, if you don't screw around!)

1 part Campari

My non-classic was an optimized Brooklyn. How does this count as my own? Because, in the process of making Brooklyn's beyond number, I discovered that the replacement of half the dry vermouth with sweet vermouth took the drink to dreamlike levels of yum. I feel that this is how a Brooklyn is supposed to be, and somehow it has been lost to history. As such, I keep its original name, and challenge all comers to prove that this is not the perfect drink.

Brooklyn:

1 1/2 oz. bourbon (Four Roses, again)

1/2 Tbsp. dry vermouth (I used Noilly)

1/2 Tbsp. sweet vermouth (Cinzano)

1/2 Tbsp. Amer Picon (as recreated by Jamie Boudreau, and made by me)

scant 1/2 oz. Maraschino

+/- dash orange bitters, per taste