I am not the biggest fan of the Manhattan.  This is something of a terrible secret to confess in the world of cocktail aficionados.  The Manhattan is as classic a cocktail as they come; it’s a quintessentially masculine cocktail.  But it’s a little too rich for my taste.  So, I played around until I found a version I loved, which I dubbed the Bittersweet Manhattan.  Except it’s hard to invent anything truly new in the world of cocktails, and I found out that my recipe goes back at least to the 1920s as the Boulevardier.  Oh well.  It’s delicious no matter what you call it.

Read below for the full recipe!

The Boulevardier

2 oz Rye Whiskey
1/2 oz Sweet Vermouth
1/2 oz Campari
2 Dashes Bitters (optional)

Combine the ingredients and stir well with ice, then strain into a chilled cocktail glass or serve with an ample lump of ice.  Garnish with a lemon twist and enjoy.

 

A Manhattan, made with Rye, sweet vermouth, and bitters, is rich, spicy and oaky, sweet and sharp, icy cold and warming at the same time.  A Boulevardier is a Manhattan made with Campari – a very bitter Italian liqueur – in place of some of the vermouth, and is a little less sweet, a little more rounded, but just as sharp, aromatic, and complex.  With all that Campari, this version really doesn’t need any more bitters (though I found that Fee Brothers Cherry Bitters works well here).  I like a lemon twist for a garnish as the oils help balance the drink; you can go with a twist or the more common Manhattan garnish, a cherry.

 

Campari is one of the amari – Italian bitters – that also include Aperol, Punt e Mes, Cynar, and Zucca.  To be honest, its bitterness can be overwhelming.  I was ready to write it off until I read Jason Wilson’s fun and fascinating (and slightly self-impressed) spirits memoir Boozehound.  Wilson described happy hour in Milan as sipping amari and soda, munching on tramezzini and prosciutto and polenta covered in gorgonzola with coiffed men in red pants and brown belts or crisp blue suits, and lithe, tan, sunglassed women who drive Vespas in their high heels.  After that, I figured Campari was worth another try.  I may never love it, but I’m a fan when it’s mixed well in cocktails like the Boulevardier.

From whence the Boulevardier?  This drink belongs to Harry McElhone, proprietor of Harry’s New York Bar in Paris (and inventor of the French 75), and first appears in his 1927 cocktail guide.  It probably gets its name from a magazine published by Erskine Gwynne, an American expat who almost certainly patronized Harry’s.  Gwynne’s magazine, which featured the work of the likes of Hemingway, Lewis, Coward, and Joyce, was called – what else – The Boulevardier.

Photo Credits: Nole Garey for Oh So Beautiful Paper

With spring just around the corner, it seemed appropriate to share a recipe for one of the most popular spring and summer cocktails – although the key ingredient might also be among the most misunderstood in American cocktails.  Along with its close relative the Daiquiri, there are few drinks as abused in American drinking culture as the Margarita.  I’m sure there are plenty of bars that serve great, authentic Margaritas, but the sickly sweet, blended drink that most people experience is a pale shadow of this classic drink.

Read below for the full recipe!

The Margarita

2 oz Tequila
1 oz Cointreau
3/4 oz Lime Juice
3/4 oz Lemon Juice
1 Dash Agave Nectar or Simple Syrup

Combine all the ingredients, shake well with ice, strain into a chilled cocktail glass and enjoy.  This one is great straight up or on the rocks; garnish with a lime wedge.  Salt the rim only if you like that sort of thing.

 

Here’s what you’ll get: a drink that is sweet but refreshingly tart, citrusy but deeply, richly vegetal from the agave-derived Tequila.

If you want a real Margarita, here’s what to avoid: blenders, sour mix, frozen limeade, and cheap mixto Tequila. Here’s what you absolutely must use: 100% agave Tequila.  Many Americans have horror stories about Tequila and that one night in college, but most of these can be explained by a) drinking too much and b) drinking mixto, which is a headache-inducing mix of as little as 51% agave, sugar, and neutral spirits.  Spend a little more for 100% agave and banish those bad memories forever.

 

Tequila is distilled from the agave plant and, by law, can only be made in the Mexican state of Jalisco (in this, it is like Champagne, Cognac, or Calvados).  There are three basic types of Tequila: blanco or plata (white or silver), aged less than two months; reposado (rested), aged two months to just under a year; and añejo (aged), aged from one to three years or more.  A white or silver Tequila will give you a much fresher, stronger taste of the agave, while an añejo is a much smoother, richer flavor.  I love a good añejo in my Margarita, but this is really up to you.

 

Where did the Margarita come from? There are some stories out there about a Mexican bartender and the daughter of the German ambassador, or an actress allergic to every spirit but Tequila, or… well, or the typical myths that surround the origins of every great classic cocktail. Here’s what I think: the Margarita probably dates back to Prohibition, when Americans desperate for a good drink went south of the border and started ordering cocktails with Tequila for the first time in large numbers. The Margarita closely resembles the venerable Sidecar family of drinks, which match a spirit, a citrus, and an orange liqueur; it also closely resembles the older Tequila Daisy, which pairs Tequila with lime, grenadine, and club soda. Conveniently enough, Margarita is Spanish for daisy.  Hmm….

Photo Credits: Nole Garey for Oh So Beautiful Paper