The essence of the essence! the king of effervescence!

relief sculpture by Gustave Navlet in the Veuve Clicquot cellar (19th c)

The good ole boys in the US (I may start referring them as GOBs, just because) played with creepy cocktails this weekend. I went to Reims, where they used to crown all the kings back in the day, to learn something about champagne. Since my trip was subsidized, I didn't do much ordering of beverages, but here is an almost complete list of what we sampled (most are non-vintage/not cuvée unless noted):

Bollinger (x3)

Billecart-Simon

Veuve Clicquot (2002 reserve and La Grande Dame 1998)

Pommery, (cuvée Louis and nonvintage)

Moët & Chandon

Vranken Diamant

I know I'm missing some here, but at a point on Saturday, I lost track of what was handed to or ordered for me. I think my favorite of the weekend was the Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame, which had this incredible tart flavor that just rolled out slowly, like a lady in her finery taking a luxurious afternoon constitutional on your tongue. The Pommery cuvée Louis also made an impression on me. Of course, we didn't have a bad glass all weekend, so it's hard to play favorites.

The other surprise of the weekend was the bottle of French whiskey my friend's husband bought. It's from a distillery that was founded in 1998 in the woods of the champagne region called Guillon. It's definitely a French twist on the drink, with a lot of vanilla flavors that recall the other famous spirit from the region, cognac. I don't know if it's worth hunting down with large quantities of effort but if you saw it lying around and had the cash, it's a fun drink.

Now I'm home, nursing the kind of hangover and cold that can only come from a weekend of champagne, foie gras and oysters. I'm sort of wishing I hadn't needed to come back. And had more disposable income.

bisous,

plenty

The Devil came up to Michigan (and needed a sweater)

Two young men walk down a deserted road late at night. Slung across the chest of one is a small satchel holding a well-used shaker, a menagerie of bitters, and a bottle of rye. The other has an old ammo belt, repurposed to hold vial after vial of infused vodkas. Ahead of them, the road intersects another, similarly deserted road. At the crossroads, they see the man they expected to find, an older gentleman in a red suit with a posture radiating smugness.

"Sir, I believe we make the best punch there ever was or ever will be."

"Would you bet your souls on that?"

"You're damned right we would."

Our new acquaintance forfeited by not showing, but the theme was already set: The Devil's Punchbowl.

My punch did not start as a punch. I'd read good things recently about a very herbal drink called the chrysanthemum cocktail and I figured that I could shoehorn the white chrysanthemum/death link into a spooky drink for the holiday. The punch emphasis was a bit of a surprise, but I ran with it after reading a lot of older punch recipes.

Back in the day, punch recipes called for a lot of steeping and layering of flavors. Many of them would really be more like a sangria these days, though not too many contemporary folk are eager to put wines from Burgundy into a bunch of fruit. I hope not, at least. I took this inspiration and basically made a batch of chrysanthemum cocktails to taste and set it overnight with some lemon peel and then mixed it with a rather good dry French blancs de blancs from Grenoble whose name escapes me. The whole thing is nice, sort of a mellow herbal take on a kir. If I could inject a bit of grassy flavors, I think that would be nice as well.

White Chrysanthemum Punch

• 2 cups Dry vermouth (Noilly Prat)
• 1 cup Benedictine
• 1/4-1/2 oz Absinthe (Leopold Bros.)
• 3 strips of lemon peel
• 1 scant bottle dry white sparkling wine, chilled (of course)

Put the first four ingredients in a bottle, give the bottle a shake to mix, and refrigerate overnight. It should just about fill a 375 mL bottle, perhaps overtopping it by a smidgen. Right before serving, pour them together and keep chilled with a large solid chunk of ice.

For my second drink, I decided to do a takeoff of a Blood and Sand. Whenever I have a cocktail recipe with scotch that I want to pull in a different direction, I try añejo tequila. It has a robustness and smokiness that tends to take to the same solid structure created by scotch, but imbues the drink with a fruitiness that otherwise wouldn't be there. I'd like to try to pare this down a little bit, since I don't know if every ingredient is absolutely necessary. I do, however, know that this is a tasty drink as is.

The Beaches are Closed

• 1 oz. Añejo tequila (Don Eduardo)
• 1 oz. Sweet vermouth (Martini and Rossi, alas)
• 1 oz. Orange juice
• 1/2 oz. Campari
• 1/4 oz. Creme de cassis
• 1/4 oz. Orange flower water
• 2 dashes Regan's Orange Bitters

I recommend shaking this one. The flavors can use a bit of rounding from the extra water and the color is great when cloudy. It's a bit of a kitchen sink sort of drink, and I would be curious to try it without the cassis or the flower water. That drink might still hold its own, but perhaps with a bit less going on.