Cocktail Hour: Spruce Beer

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Colonial Spruce Beer

If you’re into home-brewing, I’ve got a  recipe for you: Spruce Beer! This is a uniquely flavorful beer has been made in American since the 17th century; it would have been brewed at home with hops, spruce limbs, sugar, and no grain. I go in to its history more in depth in this Liqour.com article on drinking like a Pilgrim.

The Recipe

Spruce limbs.

The recipe for this beer would have already been old be the time it appear in the first American cookbook, American Cookery, published in 1796:

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“Essence of spruce,” or spruce essence, was a commercial product made by boiling spruce boughs, or spruce tips (the new green growths in the spring time) and reducing the resulting liquid into a condensed, highly flavored extract. You can still get it in brew shops today. I’ve made spruce beer from this recipe before, using both spruce essence and molasses, and I found the flavor of both ingredients to be completely overwhelming. So I wanted to making the beer this time around with real spruce limbs and maple syrup, ingredients more readily available around the time of the Puritans first settling Plymouth.

The maple syrup was no problem for me to source–my parents make their own. The spruce was a little more difficult. I first had to learn what a spruce tree looked like–I now know way too much about the difference between pines, firs, and spruce–and then I had to find a red spruce, the native species that would have been readily available to the Puritans in Massachusetts bay. Luckily, a friend was working in upstate New York, and Fed-Exed me a box of branches.

I tweaked my recipe with the help of an 1840 cookbook from author Eliza Leslie. She has a helpful recipe using real spruce limbs and another for a small quantity beer.

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You’re going to need some basic home-brewing knowledge to take this beer on. If you’re just getting started, I’d recommend purchasing a 1 gallon home brew kit, which it what this recipe is designed for.

***

Spruce Beer
Based on a recipe from
 Directions for Cookery, in its Various Branches. by Eliza Leslie, 1840

1 gallon water
1 gallon plastic bag full of spruce limbs (the tips and newer growth)
1 cup dark maple syrup
1/4 oz hops (I used Willamette and Centennial, because I thought their citrus qualities would pair nicely with the spruce. I also had difficulty finding out what types of hops would have been used historically. If you know, I’d love your input in the comments)
1 packet brewer’s yeast (a champagne yeast or an ale yeast)
6 raisins
5 cracked allspice and 1 teaspoon of ground ginger (optional)

1. Boil water, hops, and spices in a large pot for 20 minutes. Add the spruce limbs and boil 10 minutes more. If you’ve got a mesh brew bag, it helps; if not, strain the liquid. Let it stand until it is warm.

2. Sanitize a gallon glass jug–known as a fermenter. You can do this with a no rinse sanitizer, found at brewing stores. Pour the warm spruce liquid into the jug.

3. Add the yeast and the sugar. Cork the jug with a rubber stopper and an airlock. Allow it to ferment for 2-4 days, or until it stops bubbling.

4. Sanitize your bottles–I like to use 250 ml clip top stopper bottles, but you can bottle in traditional small beer bottles. I sanitize by boiling them for 30 minutes, and then letting them cool upside-down. Put three raisins in the bottom of each. Fill each bottle. Leslie says the raisins are to stop the fermentation process, but she’s mistaken; they’re to give the yeast one last meal which carbonates the beverage once it’s bottled.

5. Allow to sit another two days. Enjoy!

The Results

spruce3

When you’re done, you’ve got a nicely fizzy, milky, yellow-green beverage.

I assembled a group of historians and beer enthusiasts (and historic beer enthusiasts) to taste my early-American brew. The beer had an extremely fruity nose, some said like grapefruit. It was beautifully carbonated, like seltzer water, and had a lightness to it because of the lack of grain. With my first sip, I thought it tasted bitter. But the more I drank it, the more I realized it was quite sweet compared to most beers. I think the texture of it made me expect it to be sweet, like a soda.  It reminded some tasters of a saison or an IPA, but was not as bitter as a really hoppy IPA could be. The pine flavor definitely came through, but was not at all unpleasant. Because it’s not so heavy, you feel like you could drink it all day. But it is alcoholic–I suspect between 1%-3%, the longer it sat in the bottle.

I drank it all day, as it was intended, with a variety of 17th century puritan foods: Samp, a cooked corn porridge topped with maple sugar for breakfast; venison for lunch; and more corn and squash for dinner. It was great with all of it. I felt fine–although I did take a surprise nap in the afternoon and woke up with a headache. Over the course of a week, and it tasted progressively more tart. The colonial homebrews weren’t built to last long after the bottle was opened. They quickly soured.

I don’t know if you want to make this specific recipe; I don’t think it’s good enough for a revival. But let me put it this way: spruce trees aren’t poisonous. They are, in fact, delicious. If you’re making some winter homebrews this year, skip the spruce essence and snip a few limbs from a local tree. It’s a fun nod to America’s brewing past.

Cocktail Hour: The Ale Flip

IMG_2743The Ale Flip: a beer cocktail heated with a fire poker. Great for both a chilly day or summer camping trip.

One of my first forays into historical gastronomy was inspired by a book called Taverns of Yesteryear.

In 2003, I had just moved into an apartment off of Coventry Road in Cleveland Heights, Ohio. I’d live with my new roommate Jeff for all but one of the next 8 years. Early in our time together, we took a walk down the street to the local antique store, Attenson’s, four rooms and two floors packed floor to ceiling with treasures. We both especially loved the Bargain Basement, down the stairs, where chintzy and unwanted goods sat collecting dust on plywood shelves.

I don’t remember which one of us spotted Taverns first, but I know I bought it at Jeff’s urging. Published in 1960 to commemorate the 100th anniversary of “Schmidt’s of Philadelphia,” (Schmidt’s brewing closed in the mid-1980s, now it’s a dining and shopping center) it’s of a genre of books that were published when America was gearing up for its bicentennial. A slew of historical works came out, including some focused on food history. They were nostalgic, if not always accurate, tributes to historic eating and drinking.

Taverns started with what it calls a “brief ramble among Pennsylvania’s early inns and taverns.” In the back of the book, there were recipes. One caught our eye that seemed particular appalling: an Ale Flip

2 quarts beer
1 lemon
1/2 oz cinnamon
4 teaspoons brown sugar
1 glass ale
12 eggs

Break the eggs and separate the whites. Removed the peel from the lemon and cut in thin strips. Put the beer and ale in a large saucepan, add lemon peel, cinnamon and sugar, and bring to a boil. Beat the egg whites in a large bowl. Remove the saucepan from the fire and pour its contents onto the beaten-up egg whites. Without stirring the mixture, empty it into one of the pitchers. Pour it smartly back and forth from pitcher to pitcher, until the froth is deep. Serve in glass mugs.

Inspired by the book, Jeff & I (along with our third roommate, Tom) threw a party. Our excuse was when our friend Misha got his American citizenship; we celebrated with a Revolutionary War Party. There were costumes, as well as historic food, and the ale flip:

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original_aleflip
Photo cred: bankbryan

That’s me trying to pour it “smartly back and forth from pitcher to pitcher.” It was pretty bad; unevenly cooked meringue sitting on top of sweet, warm beer. One guest called it “hot beer custard.” I tried it again a few years later, and instead of pouring the concoction between pitchers, I beat egg whites into a meringue in a stand mixer, then slowly added the hot, mulled beer. It still tasted like hot beer custard.

The ale flip was indeed a drink consumed in 18th century New England taverns. As opposed to being heated in a saucepan, like the 20th century recipe, it was traditionally heated with a hot fire poker, and included a shot of rum as well as ale, eggs, and sugar. You can see it here in a 1772 bill from Bowen’s tavern in Rhode Island. It appears in Jerry Thomas’ 1862 bartending guide here; he adds grated nutmeg to the mixture. This 1897 book on life in old-timey England (another work of nostalgia) adds a blade of mace, a clove, and a piece of butter.

I decided to give the ale flip another chance when I came across in the modern book Cooking with Fire, which I’ve written about before when I tried the author’s “burnt cream” recipe . I’ve been planning an 18th century tavern dinner with Old Stone House of Brooklyn and Greenpoint Beer & Ale Co. It’s going to be a three course, 18th century meal with beer pairings–tickets and menu here–and I thought it might be nice if guests got a winter warmer when they walked in: the ale flip.

So I gave it one more shot, this time following historic recipes, and using a real fire poker. Here’s what it looks like when you plunge the poker in the drink:

ale_flip from Sarah Lohman on Vimeo.

And now I understand. This ale flip had intensely creamy mouth feel from the protein in the gently cooked egg. It’s slightly sweet from the brown sugar, but the brown ale gave a not unpleasant bitter coffee taste. The rum gave it an extra kicked that warmed inside and out.

So here’s my version. If you have a fireplace, I highly recommend it. And if you live in New York City Are, come on out on Wednesday, March 16th to our tavern feast and I’ll make one for you in person. Proceeds from the dinner benefit the rebuilding of Old Stone House’s outdoor cooking hearth and bread oven–where I teach classes every spring!

IMG_2744The ingredients: beer, brown sugar syrup, rum and an egg.

The Ale Flip
Based on an 18th Century New England tavern drink.

For the Sugar Syrup:
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup water
1/4 of a grated nutmeg
1 cinnamon stick
2 cloves
4 blades mace
and if you’re feeling fancy, a couple smashed cardamom pods.

Combine in a sauce pan and bring to a boil over high heat without stirring. Remove from heat.

For the drink:
1 bottle brown or amber ale (12 oz) room temperature and preferably flat. Just open a bottle, or a growler, and let it sit out.
1 egg
2-3 tablespoons sugar syrup
1 ounce dark or golden rum

Combine first three ingredients in a heat safe mug or bowl wide enough to accommodate the top of the fire poker. Whisk until egg is slightly frothy. Add rum.

Heat a fire poker in coals until hot. Pull out of the fire and plunge into mug/bowl. Remove when bubbling stops. If a little ash gets in there, it’s not going to hurt anyone–and you can scoop it off the top with a spoon. If the drink isn’t warm enough; repeat. Top with a bit of fresh, grated nutmeg.

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A finished flip!

Enjoy!

 

Tales of the Cocktail Day 4: Prehistoric Cocktails and Dale DeGroff


10:28 am : I went to bed relatively early last night (midnight). Down side is I turned down entrance to a VIP party (should I have gone??) upside is I didn’t sleep through my morning seminar, like yesterday.

I was on site early for a booze free ginger smoothie to settle my digestion, and for a turn through Cocktail Kingdom’s shop. I bought a copy of The South American Gentleman’s companion, from 1939, which has been on my wish list for a long time. CK’s bar ware is also the most lovely I have ever seen.


I’m at the Prehistoric Cocktail Technology Demo (really it was more 19th century techniques useful today) presented by Alcademics.com. A few fun facts:

  • Milk Clarifying:  used in 19th century punches.  Adds proteins that makes the alcohol frothy when it’s shaken- he called it a “frothy bonus!” but also I’ve notified changes the mouth feel. It’s full and soft. Creamy. Just pour milk in your sprit and wait; it cuddles, then you filter it through a coffee filter. Recommended as a way to filter out tannins in a tea infusion.
  • Ammonium nitrate – cooles water by 30 degrees. Used today for instant cool packs for injuries, Used before ice was readily available. Even when there was ice, it was often impure and not fit to mix in drinks. 18th c punch bowls had pockets to pour ice that would cool, but not touch the drink.
  • Tasted Baked agave- tastes like something from thanksgiving
  • Rye straws: original 19th c straw I’ve been obsessed with for awhile. Apparently there was a kickstarter to start remaking them! Let me product test for you, straw straws!

And he had some interesting slides, so here they are!

  

 


Demo on how to inpregnate water with air–carbonating.

 12pm I went to Lucullus Culinary Antiques. Mind blowing- and expensive! Because they have the best examples of what’s out there.

  

Afternoon: I had a few hours of chill out time, so I went to Cane and Table, which is describe as upscale tiki. I wanted something with their house made orgeat, and I’m not sue what in got, but it was crest and delicious. Also, fresh puffed pork rinds and three bean hummus with chips! Salty. Helpful.

  My last seminar was with cocktail legend Dale DeGroff, who talked is through bitters and how they can change the taste of a classic Manhattan. My phone died, so I have but the one photo.


And now I’m at the airport. The last four days have been a whirlwind, and I’m not sure if I’m sad or relieved to leave. I would do it again. Next year? Ever other year? I’m not sure. But when I come back, I want to see more, do more, flirt more, drink more.

Tales of the Cocktail Day 3: Rum and Pig

 

3:30 PM you may have noticed this is my first update of the day. Let’s just say it was a long night and a rough morning. I just got up. And I’m in line for my first seminar, a history of rum. These are all the rums I have to taste. Oh well, hair of the dog.

5pm a few quotes from the talk:

“Old is not always good. They made a lot of deadly shit back then.”

“But what’s missing (from alcohol) today are those lovely, tasty poisons!” panelists on 19th and early 20th c alcohol

“How can we evoke the past without recreating the past?” -David Wondrich

And I tasted a fantastic, historic pineapple rum.
 The pineapple rum is from a recipe in an old patent; both the rind and the fruit are infused in separate rums and blended. It’s a collaboration between Wondrich and Plantation Rum.

6pm I was just at an orange is the new black pool party? This drink was awful.

  

7pm dinner at Cochon– best meal I’ve had in NOLA


  

Then more drinks and drinks and drinks.

Moose Milk: A Boozey Punch for a Blizzard

moosemilk1Moose Milk: A drink for a blizzard.

If you live anywhere in the Northeast (or those other places that always get snow and don’t freak out) you probably have a lot of snow outside right now. So here’s what you can do with it: make a magical boozey punch that you chill in a snow drift.

The History.

moosemilk9A recipe collection dating from 1966-1998.

Every now and again, a reader will send me something. A little book, or recipe, or what-have-you they’ve stumbled upon. Reader Bonnie Belza sent me a binder of vintage recipes picked up at an estate sale in Arizona, stuffed with handwritten notebook papers and newspaper clippings dating between 1966-1998. The collections’ compiler, Anne, asked friends and family for recipes, and they would sign and date their contribtions: Bette Hartnett’s Southern Pecan Pie, 1970; Mrs. Steven’s Ginger Snaps; Aunt Grace’s Date Nut Loaf. Sometimes, the recipes would come attached to letters and notes, which also went into the recipe binder. The book is not just a collection of desserts, but sampling of Anne’s community.

moosemilk8Gale’s fool-proof dessert is Creme Celeste: vanilla, cream and gelatin molded in a “pint sized parkay tub” and served with fruit.

More recent newspaper clippings confirm that Anne lived with her husband Manolo in Arizona, but I suspect they may have retired there from the Midwest. Ethnic treats like kolaches, and dishes of Swedish descent, are also tucked in the book’s pages indicating they may have come from colder climates. And then there’s the recipe for Moosemilk: on a type-written page, in a fancy font (in the era of electric typewrites, you could change the font!), dated only “friday,” a young woman named Lynne writes to Anne and Manolo about her new baby boy, Mark Oliver Mabry: “John loved the Oliver part but everyone thought it was such an odd name that he hated to name him that so we just used it for a middle name.” On the back, she included two recipes for punch, one of them a rum and ice cream concoction called Moose Milk that she instructs to “Cover and refrigerate and leave covered in a snow bank for several hours or overnight.”

Moose Milk is an old term in Canada for hooch: unfiltered moonshine that came out cloudy. The term dates back to the early 1900s (source). But this moosemilk is a sweet, mixed punch and seems similar to the sort of punches that evolved in the 1950s. I can’t find much dependable history as to its origins, but it seems to have some sort of association with the Canadian Airforce.

The Recipe.

moosemilk11I included some of my parent’s homemade, dark maple syrup.

Variations of the recipe contain Kahlua (which sounds delicious but I didn’t have any on hand) and maple syrup. I did have a jar of my mother’s homemade dark maple syrup, so I decided to substitute it for the 2-3 tablespoons of confectioners sugar recommended in my recipe.

moosemilk10The original recipe for Moosemilk.

Moosemilk
Adapted from a typewritten letter, c. 1975

2 eggs, room temperature
2-3 tablespoons confectioners syrup or dark (grade b) maple syrup
1 pint (2 cups) vanilla ice cream, softened (get the good stuff)
1 quart (4 cups) whole milk
1 pint (2 cups) dark rum (I used Black Seal, but Meyer’s would do you just fine.)

  1. In the bowl of an electric mixer, combine eggs and maple syrup. Gradually increasing speed, beat eggs until frothy, about three minutes.
  2. Add ice cream. Beat on low until the it looks like ice cream soup; then beat on high until light and airy, about 4 minutes total.
  3. With mixer on low, add rum and milk. Mix until it looks like watery egg nog.
  4. Pour into tupperware, mason jars or a bowl, and seal. Bury in a snowdrift for at least three hours, or up to overnight.

Alternately, you could make this recipe in the morning and reveal it in the evening for a party. I made mine in the evening as a massive snowstorm rolled through New York, and nestled it into the snow of my apartment building’s back yard. When the bowl of ice cream and booze was all tucked in, I waved good bye, went inside, and waited for the magic to happen.

moosemilk7Putting the punch to bed. See the blue circle of the punch bowl on the ground?

 

moosemilk6The next morning: Covered in a snow drift!!!

The Results!

In the end, New York City didn’t get as much snow as expected: about a foot in my part of Queens. But somehow, I managed to put the bowl of Moose Milk in the middle of a three foot snow drift. My husband and I dug it out around noon, after it had been in the snow about 18 hours.

moosemilk4Excavating the punch.

When I brought it in, and scissored through the tin foil covering, I was shocked to find ¾ of the contents missing. My first thought, naturally, was “What kind of sorcery is this!” Upon closer inspection, I found a fairly large, but barely imperceptible crack in the bottom of the bowl. Luckily, there was still enough punch left for several glasses.

moosemilk2The final punch!

Overnight, the punch had separated: a delightful, creamy froth had risen to the top, ready to be spooned on top of Moose Milks helpings. Most importantly, the drink had mellowed. When I tasted it right after mixing, all I could tasted was the rum. After many hours in the snow, it was still strong, but the bite of the alcohol had relaxed just enough. I garnished each glass with powdered vanilla, which was just the bump this drink needed. (although I got mine from a collegue, here’s something similar). Creamy, vanilla, goodness.

Moosemilk! If you’ve got some snow outside, harness the weather to make you a drink, instead of taking up precious refrigerator space. Invite a few neighbors to share it with, or perhaps it’s just for you and your partner, while you binge watch The Wire.

Etsy Kitchen Histories: Tiki Time

maitai1A Mai Tai with a few Tiki touches.

In a last toast to summer, I explore Tiki and all its accompanying kitsch on the Etsy blog.

Tiki is a Frankenstein combination of influences from the Caribbean, Polynesia, Hawaii and China. During prohibition, alcohol-starved Americans traveled to the Caribbean, experiencing for the first time rum drinks like the Mojito at infamous bars like Sloppy Joe’s. Post-prohibition, the first Tiki bars were opened in California by some of these Caribbean travelers. After World War II, soldiers posted in the Pacific brought back a taste for the exotic, and bars and restaurants began to reflect a luau theme. But the food served in these establishments was often cooked by Chinese immigrants, who served their own Cantonese fare

The post includes a recipe for a classic Mai Tai, which I promise is just the thing for this coming Labor Day weekend. Read it all here!

Etsy Kitchen Histories: The Ice Pick

ice1An ice block at the ready on the back bar at Stoddard’s Fine Food and Ale in Boston.

In my latest Kitchen History, I was inspired by the beautiful ice that has been appearing in historically-inspired craft cocktail bars across the country to purchase my own ice pick, freeze a block of ice and attempt to shape it into jewel-like cubes. I have questionable success.

You know when you think something is going to be really easy, and then you realize you’re in way over your head? I first got that feeling after watching Japanese ice ball carving videos online; it dawned on me that I was destined to puncture my hand.

Read the entire adventure here.

The Gallery: Fiery Poker Heats Up Hot Buttered Rum


Tom and Jerry, eggnog’s hot and spicy cousin, is the subject of my most recently blog post for Etsy–you can read it here.  Although the drink was invented in the 1840s, it had an inexplicable return to popularity in the 1940s.  While trying to uncover the reason, I came across this full-age add for The Rums of Puerto Rico, from LIFE magazine, February 23, 1953.

The above gathering is clearly very manly.  Below, a few cocktail suggestions using the “Greatest Winter Drink,” rum.  The full-page ad can be viewed here.

Cocktail Hour: The Bronx and The Queens

The Bronx Cocktail. Photo by Kristy Leibowitz, taken at the Brooklyn Historical Society

After the creation of the Manhattan and the Brooklyn, cocktail jealousy ran rampant in the remaining three boroughs.  The Bronx and Queens were quick to follow with their own drinks, although few people remember them today.

The Bronx Cocktail was invented sometime right around the turn of the 20th century, and it did add something very important to the American drinking repertoire.  According to cocktail historian David Wondrich, it was the first drink to make the addition of fruit juice to a cocktail acceptable.  Yes, drinks before this had a squirt of lemon here and there; but The Bronx took a good teaspoon of orange juice and mixed it with gin and vermouth.  From this drink, all of our screwdrivers, mimosas, hurricanes, and cosmopolitans have spawned.

I think the more appealing version of The Bronx Cocktail is The Queens.  Instead of orange juice, gin and vermouth are combined with a muddled pineapple slice.  The original recipe calls for mixing The Queens in a shaker, and straining out the pineapple, but I say why not just leave that pineapple piece in there.  What’s it going to hurt?

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The Bronx Cocktail
From The Ideal Bartender by Tom Bolluck, 1917

Fill a large bar glass (or shaker) full with shaved ice
1 oz dry gin
1 oz dry vermouth
1 oz sweet vermouth
1 slice orange (or, one teaspoon orange juice)

Shake and strain into a cocktail glass.

Variations:

  • A drop or two of orange bitters is a lovely addition to this drink.
  • Replace the orange with pineapple or pineapple juice for a Queens cocktail.

***

The only borough of New York to lack a cocktail to call its own is Staten Island.  So if you were going to craft a Staten Island cocktail, what would be in it?  No cheap shots! (We love you, S.I!)  I want a quality cocktail idea.

Cocktail Hour: The Brooklyn

Photo by Kristy Leibowitz, taken at the Brooklyn Historical Society


You’re probably familiar with the Manhattan, the classic cocktail combination of rye whiskey, vermouth, bitters, and a maraschino cherry.  But did you know that three of the other boroughs of New York have cocktails, too?  Brooklyn, Bronx, and Queens all have their own variations–sorry, Staten Island.

This week, we’ll look at these outer borough concoctions starting with The Brooklyn.

There’s a more famous version of the Brooklyn than the one I’m going to share (recipe here).  I found this “Brooklyn” by poking around on good ‘ole Google Books; it’s from a 1910 issue of Mixer and Server, and the cocktail has a charming story attached to it:

Cincinnati Man Invents Concoction Guaranteed To Produce Results

There’s another new cocktail in town. This time, Brooklyn Borough has the distinction of naming it.

It’s the Brooklyn cocktail. Manhattan and The Bronx have been similarly honored; Richmond and Queens have yet to be heard from.

The inventor of the new drink is from the Rhine section of Cincinnati, and strangely enough now has his abode in Brooklyn, his lounging place being the Schmidt cafe, just at the right hand as one leaves the Brooklyn end of the bridge, first saloon you come to…

Hard cider is the basis or body or life or whatever it is of the drink. The ingredients are as follows:

Half a whisky glass of hard cider emptied into a long glass in which are three good-sized lumps of ice.

Half a jigger of absinthe.

Fill glass to brim with ginger ale.

Only three ingredients it will be seen. When asked what his excuse was for naming a pint of liquid a cocktail, Herr Hegeman [the creator] said: “I know a cocktail is supposed to be a small drink, but there is no law about it.  And I wanted Brooklyn to be known by a cocktail.”

The inventor recommends the drink for hot weather.  —New York Telegraph

A few notes:

  • “Richmond” is the old name for Staten Island
  • “The Rhine section of Cincinnati” – Cincinnati, Ohio had a large German immigrant population, second only in size to New York.

And on the drink: it’s great.  I recommend a little less absinthe: I use only a bar spoon.  Absinthe’s strong anise flavor can overpower the drink, but used in moderation it marries beautifully with the cider and ginger ale.  Additionally,  the drink takes on a characteristically cloudy color when the Absinthe hits the iced liquid.  It’s quite dramatic, and very mysterious looking.

The Brooklyn Cocktail is refreshing, it is great for hot weather, and it’s wonderfully easy to make.

***

The Brooklyn Cocktail
From Mixer and Server, via The New York Telegraph, 1910.

3 Ice Cubes
4 oz. Hard Cider
1 bar-spoon Absinthe (about a teaspoon or less)
Ginger Ale

Place ice in a tall glass. Add cider, then absinthe, then fill glass to the brim with ginger ale.

***

There is also a neighborhood specific “Carroll Gardens” cocktail, created by the folks at Death & Co., that I have yet to try.

UPDATE: There is also a Red Hook Cocktail, named after another Brooklyn ‘hood. (Thanks, Pitchaya!)