Just a drop will do. Measuring out bitters. Image taken at Calyer Restaurant, Brooklyn.

Now that cocktails have weaseled their way back into the current drinking repertoire, it’s time to take a look at one the elements of many a good cocktail: bitters. These days, there are many different kinds of bitters with wildly diverging flavor profiles — from blueberry to celery — but their aim is the same. All bitters are concentrated elixirs of botanicals that add nuance and balance to a drink. The flavor doesn’t punch you in the mouth like a a glug of piña colada mix does — but a few drops of bitters can separate a great cocktail from a serviceable one.

A heap of classic and new recipes follow, so you can start flexing your bitters-dripping muscles right away.

In the broad sense, bitters can mean any liquid with bitterness that we can drink. Some are as drinkable as soda, but what we’re discussing today is the most potent and household-handy interpretation: cocktail bitters. Cocktail bitters are high proof — around 40% alcohol — not to get you drunk quickly, but to preserve the botanicals therein. (Cocktail bitters are undrinkable on their own to sane folk, and therefore not considered a regulated product.)

Angostura as ingredient. Page from an old cookbook.

The most widely-distributed and oldest brand still in production is Angostura Aromatic Bitters. It would be in my top 10 list of items to have in your home bar, and an indispensable ingredient to many classic cocktails. It’s a heady blend of barks, roots and botanicals native to its birthplace, Venezuela (although it’s now produced in Trinidad). The recipe is a secret, but it’s obvious there are quite a bit of spices involved, and smells like what I think of as Christmas on crack. The bitterness mainly comes from the Gentian root. They also produce a fine orange bitters that I prefer in my Marguerite, arguably the precursor to the Martini.

Peychaud's bitters. Very New Orleans.

The other notable producer who’s had a nice, long run is Peychaud’s, originally of New Orleans and a key ingredient in Sazerac (one of the oldest cocktails in America). It’s on the opposite side of the flavor spectrum from Angostura with a not-so-bitter profile that’s punchy with licorice and floral aromas.

Aside from those two stand-alones, there are heaps of new types of bitters in production. If you ask a cocktail bartender to name all the companies (never mind the flavors), you just may be able to stump them with several new brands.

Whether you’ve never heard of bitters, or you’re dying to round out your collection, the cool part about bitters is that they don’t go bad, and they are relatively cheap considering that a cocktail needs just a few dashes to add a nice bit of flavor. The list I have here is in no way comprehensive, but it does give a fairly rounded view of what’s on the market.

Regan’s Orange Bitters – Heavy on the cardamom, and a nice addition to an Old-Fashioned or Manhattan.
Amargo Chuncho – Similar to Angostura, but it’s from Peru, and it has a hint of cherry.
Dutch’s Colonial Bitters
Sweetgrass Cranberry Bitters
Sweetgrass Blueberry Bitters
Scrappy’s Lavender Bitters – A floral, astringent flavor with a subtle finish.
Bittermens Xocolatl Mole Bitters – The spicy side of dark chocolate.
Fee Brothers Grapefruit Bitters – Very straightforward and versatile.
Dr. Adam Elmegirab’s Boker’s Bitters – This is made from a recipe dating back to the early 1800s; the flavor is floral spices and citrus.
The Bitter Truth Celery Bitters – Predominant celery flavor with a zesty citrus finish.

Measuring with a jigger. Image taken at Calyer Restaurant.

Now, onto how to drink all these bitters. For good form, let’s start off by perusing a few classic drinks, and how you can give them an ‘update’ by swapping out different types of bitters. In all my years of bartending, I’ve never found a drinker I couldn’t match with a drink that contained bitters, so have good faith. Lastly, I’ll list a few modern recipes that have a good format for experimenting with different types of bitters.

CLASSIC DRINKS

Marguerite
Stephan Berg, one half of the team behind The Bitter Truth, a Munich-based manufacturer, traced this recipe’s first known publication to an 1896 book called “Stuart’s Fancy Drinks and How to Mix Them.”

2 ounces dry gin (Tanqueray works well)
1 ounce dry vermouth (I prefer Dolin)
1-2 dashes Regan’s Orange Bitters (Or swap out with Sweetgrass Blueberry or Cranberry)

Stir well over ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Twist an orange peel on top.

Manhattan
Simple and satisfying, this is a drink that really benefits from closely-measured ingredients. You want to taste the whiskey, with just enough vermouth to smooth out the bite. Manhattans may be the perfect canvas for showing off the flavors in a bitters.

2 ounces rye whiskey (Old Overholt, Russell’s Reserve 6 Year)
1 ounces sweet vermouth (I prefer Carpano Antica)
3 dashes Angostura Bitters (I often substitute with Dutch’s Bitters, and I like to add a dash of Regan’s Orange Bitters)

Stir over ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a brandied cherry, a twist of orange peel, or both.

Bitters & Soda
This is the perfect tummy settler, and, if you want to enjoy the aromatics of the bitters, go without a straw.

To an ice-filled highball or pint glass, add:

8-12 dashes cocktail bitters (play around with types and combinations of bitters!)
Squeeze a lemon wedge and drop it in. Top with seltzer and stir.

Swirling a cocktail. Picture taken at Calyer Restaurant.

Pink Gin
Popular in the U.K. during the mid-19th century, this concoction is thought to have originated from the Royal Navy.

2 ounces Plymouth Gin
1-2 dashes of Angostura (I often substitute cranberry bitters, or Peychaud’s)

Stir over ice and strain into a small chilled cocktail glass (a large shot glass works too). Twist a lemon peel over the top to release the oils, then toss it.

Sazerac
Earthy and herbal, this is perhaps the oldest cocktail in America.

2 ounces rye whiskey (Old Overholt, Sazerac Rye, Russell’s Reserve 6 Year.)
¼ ounce Demerara syrup (2 parts Demerara sugar to 1 part boiling water stirred until fully dissolved.)
3 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters (I usually add a dash of Angostura as well.)

Stir well over ice and strain into an absinthe-rinsed chilled rocks glass (prepare the glass by adding a few drops of Absinthe to the sides and swirling it around). Twist a peel of lemon on top and discard.

Old-Fashioned
Leave off the muddled marachino cherry for a more historically accurate, and more delicious, cocktail.

2 ounces rye whiskey (Some people prefer bourbon, I use Weller 107.)
¼ ounce Demerara syrup (See recipe above.)
3 dashes Angostura (I typically add a dash of orange bitters, and/or Dutch’s Bitters.)

Stir over ice and strain into an old-fashioned glass with a large ice cube. Garnish with a twist of lemon, orange or both.

Champagne Cocktail
This is an easy drink to serve to large parties. You can even leave out a selection of bitters, sugar cubes and bottles of bubbly on ice and let folks assemble as they like.

In a champagne flute, add:

1 sugar cube doused in bitters (Most classic brands will work.) Fill with chilled champagne. Garnish with a twist of lemon peel.

Queen’s Park Swizzle
This drink is the precursor to the Mojito, with plenty more depth and beauty.

To a collins glass, add:
2 ounces rum (Lemon Hart, or Appleton’s VX works fine)
½ ounce Demerara syrup (see recipe above)
½ ounce fresh lime juice
6-8 mint leaves

Add bit of crushed ice and swizzle all ingredients together with a swizzle stick. (If you don’t have a swizzle stick, hold the top of a bar spoon between your flat hands and rub them together making the spoon swirl in the glass — the idea is to agitate the mint to release its oils.)

Fill the glass with crushed ice and top with several dashes of Angostura (And feel free to substitute any type and combination here.)

Garnish with a smacked sprig of mint (lay it on your hand and slap it with the other hand) and a straw.

A well-made cocktail, Calyer Restaurant, Brooklyn.

MODERN COCKTAILS

Old Gold
Recipe by Sean Hoard of Clyde Common & Teardrop Lounge in Portland, Oregon.

1 ¼ ounces blanco tequila (Don Julio, Siete Lenguas)
¾ ounce dry vermouth (I prefer Dolin)
½ Cynar (An artichoke-based bitter liqueur from Italy
1 dash celery bitters
1 dash aromatic bitters (Like Angostura or Amargo Chuncho)

Stir over ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Twist a peel of grapefruit on top and discard.

Way Forward
Recipe by Lydia Reissmueller of tenderBAR in Portland, Oregon.

2 ounces Amber Rum (Appleton’s VX, Mt. Gay Eclipse)
1 heaping bar spoon dark fruit preserves (like fig, blackberry or plum)
2 dashes Dutch’s Colonial Bitters
2 dashes Regan’s Orange Bitters

Stir well over ice until preserves are integrated, fine strain (with a tea strainer) into an ice-filled Old-Fashioned glass. Top with 1 ounce of your favorite amber ale (I like The Bruery’s Loakal Red). Garnish with a speared piece candied ginger.

A professional. Taken at Calyer Restaurant, Brooklyn.

Photos were taken at Calyer Restaurant. Special thanks to Virginia Brown & Jonathon Linaberry. Archival images were found by Michael Wojtas.

FURTHER READING
Camper English writes about everything cocktail. The Alcademics.
Watch Jamie Boudreau execute some mighty tasty cocktails. A bit cheesy, but worth it. Raising the Bar, Small Screen Network.
A blog to trust: Spirits and Cocktails
Imbibe Magazine, the best drinks publication in the country.

You may also like

• Cocktail Recipes: Punch Punches are originally from India (panch in Hindi), and were...
• Cocktail Recipes: The Sour Sours are the taste of languid summer days: margaritas, daiquiris...
• Meyer Lemon Marmalade Recipe In 1908, Frank Nicholas Meyer, a professional food explorer, brought...

Setting up the loom. Photo by Mike Donald.

A couple of months ago we introduced you to Mike Donald, a young Scot who decided to forsake city life and return to the western isles of Scotland. He won a placement in a state-sponsored scheme to become a registered weaver of Harris Tweed. Reminder: Harris Tweed enjoys Protected Geographical Status (similar to “Champagne”) and must be made from wool which has been dyed and spun on the Isles of Harris, Lewis, Uist and Barra in the Outer Hebrides islands, and handwoven at the home of the weaver. Afterwards, the cloth is returned to the mill for inspection, and only then can it be given the Orb stamp that authenticates it. Each piece of tweed can be traced back to the individual weaver. (If you inspect the label in your Harris Tweed sport coat you’ll see an inked blue number, this number relates to the responsible weaver.)

I caught up with Mike again after he received his weaver’s number and completed his first tweed.

Harris Tweed weavers at work. Photo by Mike Donald.

KM: First, I have to ask: how the hell does it feel to be a certified weaver of Harris Tweed?!

Mike Donald: Feels awesome! There are some things in life that just feel right and this is one of them for me. Throughout the training there was just a series of epiphanies. A lot of that was to do with the guys that taught us, they were 20 or 30 years my seniors but spoke with love and passion about their craft. If I can feel as enthused after all those years then I’ll be happy with my life choice. There’s also a huge sense of beginning, this will be a life long process and I’m enjoying the early stages. Every mistake and misstep I know I’ll learn from and look back on, eventually, and hopefully laugh too. When you see the experienced weavers work and tend to their looms you realize how far you have to go but also that you’ll get there with time and dedication too. Am happy to be on that same road.

Warp and weft patterns. Photo by Mike Donald.

KM: Major check mark in the “Harris Tweed weaver” box, no?

Mike Donald: I got confirmation today from the Shawbost Mill that my “test” piece of Harris Tweed had past inspection. This is the first tweed I’d woven, unaided, alone, at home and without support. The mill delivers a 15 meter beam of yarn and the weft bobbins and you need to produce a tweed to their specifications and exacting standard as laid out on the attached order ticket. I got a two colour, plain twill, 19 shots per inch on an 18 reed. It took a few days to do but the training paid off and the tweed was done without too much drama. They collected it from my loom shed and took it to the mill where it was inspected by their seamstresses and darners for flaws. When the phone rings and they tell you you’ve passed it’s a great feeling. So now it’s onto the real thing 50-meter+ lengths!

A bolt of Harris Tweed fresh off the loom, with Charlie the house cat for scale.

KM: Tradition passed down — another check in that box.

MD: My family have been a huge part of this journey. My folks have been so supportive and my Uncle and Aunt too. I’ve lived hundreds of miles away from Mom and Pops for about twenty years so it’s been odd having to lean on them while I make inroads back into island life. The loom shed is on the family croft so I see a lot of them these days, the kettle is always boiled and I’ve had more hot dinners cooked for me than I could hope for. They’ve been great. My Uncle is a weaver and is always on hand for advice too. It’s cool to be back in each others’ lives after all this time. The friends I left behind in Glasgow have been bemused but right behind me, a lot of them work in the music, fashion and design industry and know the values and ethos behind Harris Tweed but tend to be on the front line of the cloth’s presence in the world as it hits catwalks and clubs. Not sure they’d be down with the tribulations of bringing the stuff into the world in the back of beyond. Maybe it’s just a calling!

Harris Tweed fabric, half made. Photo by Mike Donald.

KM: So what is the loom shed situation near your cottage?

MD: My loom shed is on the family croft in the village of Tong on the east coast of the island. It’s directly attached to the house and there’s a small workshop full of tools inside, plenty light and warmth. I can look out of the window and see sheep grazing, the lighthouse across the bay blinking, fishing boats sheltering from storms…we have a border collie called Mac who sticks his nose in now and again and an old, old cat called Charlie who likes to sit on front of the shed heater and fall asleep. Not a bad place to work all in all.

The view from the bus stop near Mike's house on the Isle of Lewis

KM: Do you get any choice on projects? Do some weavers become associated with certain styles or colors? Can you create or commission your own tweed?

MD: Harris Tweed weavers can work for any of the three main mills on the island, work independently or a combination of the two. I work for the Shawbost mill which is the busiest and most exciting of the three and guarantees me steady work and a chance to learn my trade. As a new weaver I’m restricted to the simpler patterns which means I’ll do two colour plain twills in increasing lengths initially and after a period of proven reliability move up to patterns like herringbone and houndstooth. The real challenges lie in the plaids and other complicated designs. There can be multiple colours on the warp beam, as many as six colours on the weft, complicated heddle drafts and sometimes even 8 tappet weaves which are very beautiful but complex to produce. I’ll do more training as time goes on and move onto these eventually. The colours and patterns are so diverse that I’m not sure if anyone is associated with any particular style but the older, more experienced weavers tend to get the more difficult stuff, right now I’m quite happy to take the basic patterns the mill sends me.

Yarn ready to be made into tweed. Photo by Mike Donald.

If you weave independently then you are responsible for your own designs but also finding customers and dealing with the associated costs. The mill still provides the yarns and finishing but there’s more leeway to be creative if you feel the need and there are a few who do just that. Donald John Mackay is probably the most successful in this field, having worked with Nike and Clarks, but there are others. For most weavers working for the mills is the easiest and most rewarding format, they handle the orders, marketing and production and we can get on with weaving which is what we want to do. Part of the training course did tackle pattern design so the tools are there to get more creative in future, it’s a road I’d certainly want to go down at some point  but right now I want to support the industry by meeting current demand on the wider scale.

It's not Harris Tweed unless the wool is grown, sheared, spun and woven there.

KM: You were so involved in the music scene in Glasgow (the long-running Sub Club). Does playing music come into it at all in the shed ?

MD: Yeah, music in the loom shed is inevitable, although the tying in process I like to do in silence. The loom can be pretty noisy and has a nice rhythm of it’s own so the soundtrack needs to fit, otherwise it’s just a cacophony! It’s important to listen to the loom too, you can tell a lot about your weaving by the sound it makes so I tend to tune in to the clicks and clacks more than the music. The mind does tend to drift and often you’ll find yourself humming or whistling some accompaniment to the machinery. Weaving is all very musical and lyrical and you can see why both are so entwined in Gaelic culture.

A tweedy bike ride in Scotland.

KM: What other issues affect you/tweed production right now?

MD: The industry in general seems pretty peachy right now I think. There’s definitely a peak in interest right now but Harris Tweed transcends fad and fashion. It will settle soon enough and hopefully we’ll see a steady continuation in the love shown to the cloth. The Harris Tweed Hebrides guys (and girls) at Shawbost are really on top of their game and are leading the way with all this after just three years of reopening their mill (you should read up on the pre-2007 dramas). There is no shortage of work thanks to their endeavors and the continuing role of the Harris Tweed Authority, if anything the issue is meeting demand but I think this is no bad thing. Harris Tweed is not a mass-produced textile, getting limitlessly churned out from factories. Every inch is handwoven so if this leads to a restriction in supply then so be it. Designers will simply have to order in advance and respect the fact that they’re dealing with high quality not high quantity. But I know Shawbost Mill is running 24 hours a day, they want those who want Harris Tweed to get it when required.

Pedaling the loom. Photo by Mike Donald.

On a grassroots level there are issues with availability of looms to new weavers but this is being addressed at a high level so should be rectified this year. Also the cost of spare parts is problematic, if something breaks on your loom then it’s not cheap to replace and we rely on manufacturers in England. The ideal situation would be to have the looms and parts built and produced right here on the island, we have the means, and within a few years I think this will happen, bringing another part of the process into our island economy. Everything is heading in the right direction though, so absolutely no negativity felt or implied!

Mike Donald's new loom.

(Archival pictures not taken by Mike Donald were found by Michael Wojtas.)

FURTHER READING

Harris Tweed Authority
Harris Tweed Hebrides

You may also like

• Harris Tweed, Part I You may know nothing about the production of regulated Scottish...
• Denim Everyone has that one pair of jeans they refuse to...
• Other Voices & Readings Goodies behaving badly by Julian Baggini, The Guardian UK “(…)...

A well cared-for pair. Photo by Ryan Plett of You Have Broken the Internet.

Rather than give you another fanatical instruction guide on how to polish your shoes, we interviewed three experts about why you should do it. For me, part of it is ritual and nostalgia. I associate it with my father and grandfather getting their shoes and boots out on Sunday and polishing them all. But there’s more to it than the smell of polish and mink oil. I asked a leather guy, a style guy and a shoe shine guy about their takes on polishing and maintenance. Nick Horween breaks down shoe leather and how and why to treat it right, Ryan Plett displays some very tasty brogues and discusses his thoughts on style and investing in quality, and Nicolo Timore distills hundreds of shoe shines into one word: preservation.

Nicolo Timore shined for a few years in the financial district of Boston before I met him. He keeps his hand-in guesting at special events with an easy patter and a tall loose-limbed frame. Have you heard the phrase “Boston cracked shoe?” I bet Nicolo can’t stand them.

Nicolo: “To me, shining shoes is a necessary step one must take in preserving the shoe. The polish itself gives a slight protective coat of wax so repeated and consistent shining can add years to the life of a shoe. This should be done one or two times a month, depending on how roughly you treat them. For older or more beat up shoes, shining should be more frequent. A good shine will help protect shoes from getting damaged by weather, and will remove stains left by rain, snow, salt, etc. The day after a storm is usually very busy.

A man shines his shoes.

Reasons for a shoe shine would vary; weather damage, wanting to look good for the meeting or girl/boyfriend. Some customers just wanted to keep their shoes in good condition for as long as possible. And some people simply enjoy the luxury of having someone shine their shoes (usually assholes).

I would say the customers were about 60% men, 40% women. But all these reasons for a shine would apply to both men and women.”

Don't let those legendary Maud Frizons go to rot.

Ryan Plett lives and works in Chicago. Between brand consulting and shooting/editing You Have Broken the Internet and Travel Well, he’s a busy man. Ryan is a proponent of looking good from the ground up and buying things to last. I can safely say he’s a shoe guy.

Ryan: “My footwear tastes are reserved and classic, with small hints of color. Overall I want my shoes to display a level of quality and tell a story; a guy who has been places. For me the upkeep of my shoes is much more than attaining a shine… I think the upkeep and maintenance appeals to me because I’ve always been a person who takes care of things. I don’t “baby” things, I expect them to last, and I don’t buy garbage so when I invest in quality I take care of it. Growing up in my family money was not endless, the higher priced quality goods were not just handed over, they were worked for. So just like everyone always says, when I worked for it, it meant more.

Now I wouldn’t be completely telling the truth if I said I loved great shoes simply because they last, and can be easily maintained. I really do believe that style starts from the ground up, and that most men should really invest in great footwear. Great footwear can make an otherwise bland look a success, and bad footwear can destroy an otherwise perfect one.”

Brogues with a good shine. Photo by Ryan Plett.

Nick Horween is the director of Horween Leathers. Horween has been producing leather for over a hundred years in Chicago and is one of the oldest continuously running tanneries in America.

Nick: “For me, shoe care falls into three groups: conditioning, protecting and aesthetics. Conditioning is achieved by using a product that will nourish the leather if/when it dries. Protecting usually involves some sort of wax or oil blend to give water resistance or other characteristics. Aesthetic care usually means shining with a harder wax that will become glossy, though some products are designed to give a matte finish (or something in the middle). Of course, just about every shoe care product on the market will do all three of these in some capacity. Just like anything else, all products will do one or two of these three things better than the other. It’s all about compromises.

I suppose that cleaning is the forgotten-about 4th item — but that almost always just involves a damp cloth and a good brushing.

A shoe shine brush in action.

The most important of the three, after cleaning, is the conditioning bit. Leather is, after all, just skin. A tanners job is to preserve the hide, remove all the perishable components (fats, oils), strengthen the hide, and then introduce new, non-perishable components (fats, oils, extracts) that then leave the material supple. Once this is all done, we can then finish the surface to give it visual appeal. To me, that means: if you don’t have a material in a shoe with integrity and pliability, it doesn’t really matter what it looks like.

My personal shoe care routine is very straightforward. Clean with a damp cloth, brush, allow to dry, apply cream/conditioner/wax, allow to rest, brush, buff with a soft cloth.

Depending on the leather, frequency and materials used will vary. Caring for shoes is kind of like getting an oil change. After a certain number of miles, you’re really obliged to do it. But, if it’s just been a couple of months, it really depends on the owner and the make and model. That said, there’s no reason not to take care of a pair of shoes, or get them re-soled if the construction will allow. Getting a pair of shoes re-bottomed is a great way to update a shoe.

The ghost of shoe shine boys past.

A few things to look out for when caring for a shoe: solvents, dyes and over-application. Applying too much wax/material will just cause that material to sit up on the surface, cake, and collect dirt. Almost all products have some solvent in them. These are to help carry the actual wax/oil evenly across the leather, at which point they air off leaving only the good stuff. A product with too much solvent can cause the leather to dry out faster than usual. Also, the solvents will sometimes pull dye off of the leather, which can change the appearance of the leather. Products with dyes can also lead to a change in appearance.”

Tennis with shoes.

Images not taken by Ryan Plett were found by Gijs van der Most.

FURTHER READING

Sending a complex mixed message with the blue bloods-only Boston cracked shoe: “The junior members of a firm that were striving to climb the corporate ladder would keep their shoes well repaired and shined every day. But the guys with the Boston Cracked Shoe look didn’t worry about something like this, because they not only had climbed the ladder, they owned it.” Ivy Style.

Salt-free shoes, Valet Magazine

Leather Tanning, Kaufmann Mercantile

You may also like

• Du Pont Canvas Utility Bag Sometimes, we as consumers don’t necessarily have access to everything...
• Leather Tanning Leather can be strong or supple; it can drape languidly...
• Transistor Radio I was happy when I found these photos of the...

Not ready to be made into a coonskin cap. Image via Old Chum.

1. Carry it around every day. A lot of people who are invested in what little space there is in their pockets make room for a pocket knife. Pocket Dumps, Everyday Carry.

2. Be wholesome. Mumbelty peg is a game of knife feats. It’s competitive and skill-driven, and the loser is punished heartily by having to pull a peg out of the ground with his teeth. The American Boy’s Book of Sport has diagrams of the knife-flipping tricks one must accomplish in order to be crowned winner.

There are other variations of mumbelty peg, including an ill-advised one that requires a pair of duelers with more stupidity than skill. The one who throws a knife closest to his own foot wins. Stick your own foot and you win automatically.

3. Skin a raccoon. If you come across a furry friend that’s given up the ghost, this guide teaches you how to turn that fresh road kill into a pair of fur socks (or cap, or pouch), using only nature’s tools. Which means the animal’s own brains.

4. Whittle. Art of Manliness’ guide to whittling takes you from knowing nothing to knowing something about how to fill up your time with little more than a tree branch and a pocket knife.

5. One thing you can’t do with a pocket knife is use it as a weapon. If you think through defending yourself while getting ambushed in a back alley, you’ll quickly come to the conclusion that you will have to get very, very close to an attacker before you can scratch the surface of the person’s skin with a pocket knife. If you’re thinking of attacking someone, you better hope that person is already in a coma, because you’re likely to get a knee to the balls before you can set your pocket knife in action. Here’s a run-down by an expert on why knife fighting is a crazy myth that, if executed, will end in tears and/or prison: “Knife Fighting Lies,” No Nonsense Self Defense.

You may also like

• Mother Of Pearl Pocket Knife In a time when it was unthinkable for a man...
• Other Voices & Readings Contemporary art produced in the Middle East, Muraqqa History of...
• Other Voices and Readings Erik Heywood keeps the outstanding blog Books and Bookshelves, where...

Errol Flynn, Nora Eddington, Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles enjoying the fruit of 10,000 years of human technology.

For a single ingredient wheat flour has an amazing number of iterations. It can be gruel or wedding cake, Wonder bread or baguette, croissant or hot dog bun. Flour seems simple, but it can give the occasional baker some anxiety — what exactly separates a good pie crust from a bad pie crust when it’s just flour, fat and water? Why is this cookie recipe calling for bread flour, and should I care that I don’t have it?

Read on for a primer. A little de-mystifying means better sweets for you.

A soft white loaf.

The thing that separates one type of flour from the next is its gluten protein content. The difference is big enough that a recipe that calls for one type of flour often turns out very differently if another type of flour is used. For one, high protein flours absorb substantially more water than low protein flours, and will produce stiffer doughs with the same proportion of water. Baking is all about proportions, and a recipe that calls for bread flour takes this into account in the recipe’s ingredient list.

As a guideline, different types of flour are classified under the type of baking they are normally used for. The flour that’s high in strong gluten proteins is generally called bread flour because it makes the highest, chewiest, lightest bread loaves. The gluten forms strong, straight bonds that make a stretchy-er product, a trait that works for other baked goods too, from sticky buns to that amazing New York Times chocolate chip cookie.

If a bread recipe specifically calls for bread flour, be sure to use it. The rising, and most certainly the kneading, needs to happen to the gluten proteins in bread flour. If you’re not using it, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.

Christina Tosi of Momofuku Milk Bar fame uses bread flour for her cookies, and in her book calls it “one of those secrets.” The extra large pile of butter in her cookies makes a difference, and she cautions about over-mixing when using bread flour — too much mixing could stiffen and toughen the end product. This is a danger for most cakes and cookies. The trick is to stir in the flour by hand and stop stirring the instant you can’t see flour any more.

This unicorn cake is a long way from its predecessor, the moist gruel.

Pastry flour has a low gluten protein content, and cake flour even lower. This low protein content makes for a more tender baked good. Think of a tall layer cake. Do you want it to be stiff and chewy? No, you do not. You want it to be tender, with a round crumb. That’s why you use this flour when you’re told.

All-purpose flour has a protein content that sits between pastry and bread, and is the most commonly used flour. (Though I’ve found that recipes that play around with this standard can produce some pretty great textures.)

FAKE FLOURS
There are a few tricks to use one flour to mimic the gluten content of another. The operative word here is “mimic” — you can’t really turn an all-purpose flour into a pastry flour, but you can try to fool the gluten proteins into acting differently.

To approximate pastry flour with all-purpose, use one part (by weight, preferably) of cornstarch (which has no gluten) to two parts all-purpose flour.

To fake all-purpose flour with pastry flour, add ¼ part vital wheat gluten to 2 parts pastry flour. How you find yourself in a situation with pastry flour and vital gluten, but no regular flour, I don’t know, but there’s the solution just in case.

When science goes too far. A dessert book on cobbling cakes together from snoballs and twinkies.

Cake flour can’t be mimicked — its starch and fats have been altered by chlorine to be able to take drastically different proportions of sugar and liquid for a very distinctive, velvety soft texture. For the most delicate cakes, like a lemon chiffon, you will have to drag yourself to the store and get a box of cake flour. For less fussy cookies that call for cake flour, you can get away with whipping up a batch of fake pastry flour.

THERE ARE MORE FLOURS
Whole wheat flour has the highest protein content of all, but a lot of the protein comes from the germ and aleurone layer of the wheatberry, which doesn’t form gluten, and the germ and bran particles get in the way of gluten formation. Substituting wheat flour in a recipe that calls for a white flour will throw off the moisture proportions of the recipe and significantly alter the texture. Best to find an equivalent recipe written specifically for whole wheat flour.

Graham flour is an 1800s version of a healthy whole wheat flour, and is usually white flour with the germ and bran added back in. It tastes different from whole wheat flour, but one can be substituted for the other.

Durum wheat flour — the kind used for pasta — is an entirely distinct species of wheat and shouldn’t be substituted.

Home economics was an exacting discipline.

SEEDS OF GRASS
Staying true to the type of flour is the difference between a good cookie and an amazing one, an ok cake or a great one. In the end, it’s not that big a deal, deciding on a flour is more of an assessment on your tolerance for imperfection at that moment.

What’s certain is that flour is more complicated that it looks.

Flour’s been around for 10,000 years, and was one of — if not the first — plant to ever be cultivated by humans. So the history of flour — and the things we can make with it — is closely tied up with human technology.  The part that we use for white flour is are the insides of tiny, individual seeds of grass. It used to take the most muscular men hours to grind wheatberries into an edible meal, and even then, it could only be made into a starvation-delaying, gloppy mush.

A few hundred years ago, separating the germ from the bran and endosperm advanced from being powered by humans or animals, to getting milled with the power of flowing water. The flour this yielded made a lot more than mush, but a cookbook from 1747 still instructs you to beat a cake batter “all well together for an hour with your hand, or a great wooden spoon.”

These days, electric mills slice open wheatberry seeds and a highly sensitive machine separates each particle of ground up endosperm by its miniscule weight, to give us white flour. This sounds like the last word in milling technology, but to this day we can only remove about 75% of the endosperm, but it makes up 83% of the seed. More exact milling could mean higher grade flours for ever-better textures.

That’s just milling techniques – to this day research scientists still dedicate themselves to wheat science and we can only hope that one day, all that mental exertion will translate to a baked good of unimaginable deliciousness.

Celebrating flour and human technology with a rocketship birthday cake.

FURTHER READING
On gluten-free: “It’s rather interesting that the whole celiac disease problem has created a celiac fad diet,” says Dr. Leo Treyzon, who specializes in gastrointestinal disorders at the UCLA. And, “I think there’s a perception that gluten-free equals health. It’s just not the case.” Both from NPR.

Measuring flour correctly makes all the difference. If you don’t have a baking scale, here’s how to do it: How to measure flour, Food52 (video)

A kernel of wheat, Maine Bread

Sliced Bread, Wikipedia

Remember the global food and grain crisis? Bankers figured out that bread is pretty important to people, then found a way to mess it up. “How Goldman Sachs Created the Food Crisis,” Foreign Policy.

You may also like

• Cranbery Jam The dead of winter isn’t exactly known for its bounty,...
• Wax Paper I use wax paper for pretty much everything other people...
• Swiss Army Bread Bag I found these great vintage Swiss military bread bags at...

Like needles in a haystack. Titanium deposits in sand, Eastern Cape, South Africa. Photo by Niel Overey.

Conceived beneath the skies of the ancient world, the Titans were the incestual god-lineage of Zeus: gigantic creatures who bore names like Oceanus, Themis, Hyperion. The metals then known to man were those purest of elements, and it was some two millenia before titanium would be discovered and used.

With an unmatched strength-to-weight ratio, low thermal conductivity and a tendency to be impervious to corrosion, titanium is indeed a metal of mythical proportions, even to the point of being mythically difficult to work with.

Titanium is what we use when we want to physically bond and repair the human body, it is what the hulls and appendages of our deep sea vessels are made of, it is the metal of engines that rocket our ships with ripping heat into space. For many reasons it is considered nearly invincible, much like the hulkish gods it was named for.

First culled forth from the black sands of the Helford River back in 1791 — a veritable heyday for the discovery of elements — titanium was brought to light by one man and named by another. Reverend, mineralogist and chemist William Gregor knew there was something special about the black magnetic sand he managed to isolate from the wet earth of the Menachan Valley in Cornwall, England. With a magnet and hydrochloric acid he was able to produce an impure oxide of the new element, though it would never be known by the name he wanted it to have, mechanite.

Titanium mine shrouded in smoke.

Four years later a Berlin chemist, Matthew Albert Klaproth, independently isolated titanium oxide from chunks of dark Hungarian rutile. His was the name that stuck, and rightly so. The Titans he conjured with this new name were tough, but they were also condemned by their own father to be held captive in the earth’s crust.

Titanium is the 9th most plentiful of all known elements. In terms of structural metals, it’s the 4th most abundant (following only aluminum, iron and magnesium). It is usually found in ileminite-rich mineral sands (from the Ilmen mountains in Russia) or laced in the rutile of the beach sands of Australia, India, Mexico. Workable deposits can also be readily located in the U.S., Canada, South Africa, Sierra Leone, Ukraine, Norway, Malaysia.

Titanium is highly resistant to corrosion — superior to metals like bronze, brass, copper nickel, both stainless and carbon steel. It’s strength-to-weight ratio is unmatched, having all the strength of steel but less than half its weight. These are amazing properties and indeed, titanium is often called a super metal. But its prevalence in the earth’s crust begs the question: why are products made from titanium so few and far between?

The same properties that make titanium super strong, super light, and super corrosion-resistant also happen to make it nearly impossible to work with.

FOOTBALL FIELDS AND JET PROPULSION

Titanium would not be isolated to 99.9% purity for well over 100 years after it was discovered. Of all places, the element was finally rendered pure on a football field. It makes sense when we consider that the football field was at the Renssalear Polytechnic Institute in Troy, New York, and located conveniently close to the labs.

The hero was a professor of electrical engineering and instead of a football, his game involved a metal bomb. It would become known as the Hunter Process — a dangerous, explosive method by which titanium chloride is mixed with metallic sodium in an air-tight metal chamber and heated to extremely high temperatures. It’s not entirely practical because it doesn’t yield large quantities of the metal, but it is still used today when titanium of ultra high purity is desired.

William Justin Kroll, the man who would unlock titanium from the earth.

It wasn’t until William Justin Kroll developed the Kroll Process in 1948 that titanium would finally be completely unlocked from the earth and useable by man. In an elaborate chemical process full of painstaking breakthroughs, Kroll used the key players of titanium tetrachloride and magnesium. The Kroll Process is still widely used today, and it is what sent the metal into the engines of aircrafts with breakneck speed.

FEARLESS WARRIORS, POOR LAB PARTNERS

Isolating pure titanium is difficult but it is only one part of the grueling process that is conforming this metal to one’s will. It then needs to be bent, welded, machined, or molded, all of which are extremely difficult due to the great tensile strength of the metal.

The low thermal conductivity, high tensile strength and resistance to forces as corrosive as sea water make titanium one complicated workhorse of a metal.

Titanium rod.

Machining it is particularly difficult. The metal is almost stubborn, too strong to conform to another’s will. The low thermal conductivity often results in machines wearing down because the heat they’re using is dissipated by the low density metal. Titanium is so hard it’s likely to spring back and away from the blade that’s supposed to be cutting it, and cutting tools often need to be replaced. Large quantities of chemical fluid are needed to cool it down from its 1600 degree melting point and turnings, fines and chips are instantaneous fire starters. While being worked with, it has a great tendency to fret and gall.

Working with titanium requires devotion to science and process. Respect for the lustrous, authoritarian metal doesn’t hurt either — to say nothing of admiration and patience.

THE BODIES WE EXPLORE

Lucky for us all, the stubborn nature of the ore meets its match in the determination of engineers and scientists, and today titanium is used on nearly every front where its properties are needed, from leisure activities to space exploration.

We even use it to rebuild ourselves, to hinge together what breaks down over time in our bones and cartilage, small and large. Titanium screws together bones. From the load-bearing joint of the hip to the hardworking, ever-pumping valves of the heart, titanium is trusted to hold up to the chloride brines and organic acids that comprise the pH of the human body. It seems Adamantium — that indestructible, fictional element used by Dr. Cornelius to fortify the skeleton of Marvel’s Wolverine — may have found it’s inspiration in this amazingly biocompatible metal.

A biocompatible metal.

The low modulus — or stretch — of titanium, when paired with its superior corrosion resistance and strength-to-weight ratio also make it the first choice when it comes to exploring the unthinkable depths of the sea, where nameless creatures amble and deadly pressure reigns. The high-tech submersible, Alvin, is being newly built with a hull of three inch-thick titanium that will allow the vessel to reach depths of 4 miles deep, making all but 1% of the ocean floor accessible to oceanographers.

In the realms of flight and space exploration, titanium allows for maximum payload capability. With its low conductivity of heat and  high melting point, it is the ideal way to allow moving parts like jet engine blades and gas turbines to function at the highest level of efficiency.

Though the costly development of this super metal might be delayed because of this Great Recession, we will be seeing titanium in more and more elements of daily life, from bicycles to outdoor supplies, to anything that needs to face the elements and hold its form without rusting or breaking apart. From Frank Gehry’s Bilbao Guggenheim Museum in Basque Country, Spain, to the ocean floor, to wedding bands and bicycles and tools for the backyard, this mythic metal is found in reaches far away, close, and dark — whether we talk about the exploration of space or the beating of the human heart.

Shimmering sheets of titanium plating the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain. Designed by Frank Gehry.

You may also like

• Corrugated Cardboard I was recently on a search, looking by the bins...
• The Power Of Gold Let’s sidestep all the financial and psychological aspects of gold...
• The Clock of the Long Now In this ever-advancing modern era, where the mantra of the...

A felt home. Central Aisa, circa 1910.

Felt is said to be the oldest man-made material: its story goes back 8,000 years. It’s used in everything from carpets to garments to chalkboard erasers. Felt is basically the matted fibers of sheep, so it has all the virtues of wool — warm, waterproof, resilient, durable — but denser, more compact and much more versatile. It is extremely adaptable and can be made with little more than a pair of hands for tools.

Wool “felts” because the animal fibers have natural directional scales and kinks (like a lizard, or a pine cone) that bristle into action when water and friction is applied. The scales reach up to the source of friction at a 90 degree angle and then back again, which causes the fibers to stitch together and form felt.

In India, felt is made for the mass market by laying down wool in shallow pools of water and going over it with giant steamrollers. Watch a modern-day Mongolian tribe demonstrate the process of building a traditional home out of felt in this YouTube video. The entire process is recorded, from herding and shearing the sheep, to beating pelts of unprocessed wool with long reeds, to erecting a ger, or yurt, just like the Xanadu pleasure palace of Kublai Khan, or the mighty military bases of Ghengis Khan. Felt is moisture-wicking and insulating, because even the badasses of the Mongolian plain desired a cozy and durable dwelling.

A Turkemen horse, cozy in a felt coat.

It’s hard to say exactly who made felt first, but it was so long ago that it was on Noah’s Ark. On the ark, woolen creatures, like goats, sheep and camels, naturally shed their coats. Beasts that they are, they urinated on the floor then trampled around on the wool. Once the flood receded, Noah to discovered the animals had gifted the Ark with a carpet of felt.

Kneading wool into felt. One of man's simplest processes.

Another legend attributes the discovery of wool to Pope Clement I. Also known as Saint Clement, the fourth pope had blister-prone feet and stuffed wool into his shoes for extra padding. The combination of sweat and compression made felt. Enthralled by the new material, he and his monks set-up a feltmaking workshop in Rome. Earlier and more concrete evidence of the making and use of felt dates to ancient fresco painting in Pompeii, where images of quactiliarii (feltmakers) have been found decorating the walls of homes and shops. It is possible that these fabricators dressed marble sculptures of Venus, goddess of love and beauty, and Cybele, Earth Mother, in felt robes as an advertisement of their goods. In fact, the supple, silken drapery that we usually imagine in the ancient world are incorrect — the Romans swathed themselves in togas made of heavy wool felt.

A felt hat if nothing else. Collecting surplus goods in Arizona. Photo by Russell Lee via The Denver Post.

FROM FURNITURE TO FINGERS

Despite being such an old technology, felt is still used all over the world for all sorts of things — from purely utilitarian use in car parts and musical instruments, to furniture and art. Impressively, this material — which (possibly) came from animal excrement and clomping — is now used to achieve elegant design. And therein lies the crux of felt’s virtuosity: the juxtaposition of its humble origins with its current use in high art and design, made possible by its incredible versatility and application in any number of fields, objects and aspects. In the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum’s 2009 exhibition Fashioning Felt, this extraordinary material was molded into a futuristic coat, a bench, high-concept chairs and even a palace.

Ilkka Suppanen's Magic Carpet chair in felt and metal. The felt forms to your body for better lounging.

Kathryn Walter of the Toronto-based FELT Studio pushes felt into heretofore unexplored territory, designing felt into stools the shape of spools, diffusing lampshades  and softly undulating wall paneling. Artist Kedmi Hanan makes rings by combining soft, pliable felt with high-tech heat sinks, a metal computer part used to prevent overheating. Designer Aurelie Tu, uses felt for its historical handicraft lineage and environmental integrity. Her vases, flooring, wall pieces and lighting, are handmade in Portland, Oregon, using an interlocking system without sewing or glue.

The variety and range of products out on the current market attest to the incredible possibilities of felt in function and design. This much is sure: felt is not a fad, but forever.

Felt wall paneling at the auditorium of the Museum of Tolerance

You may also like

• Wool Sheep have gotten an undeserved baa-d rap. Besides loathsome puns,...
• Teak Wood Scandinavian Modern furniture is often associated with teak, the ultra-durable...
• Rope Rope is the wheel of the ocean. Man has used...

X-ray of a garlic clove. Image by Antonio Fortunati, 2010.

Last fall I did something every gardener should try: grow garlic. It’s not that hard, you can grow it in a pot or in the ground, and well, garlic is awesome.

Growing garlic takes nearly all year, but not that much effort. Plant it right around now, before the ground freezes, let it hibernate under the snow all winter long, water them in the summer til it’s time to pull them out, then hang them somewhere to cure for two weeks. There’s some luck and chance involved, but that’s what makes gardening fun, and you’ll be that much more proud once you’re pulling your precious, delicious heads out of the ground next summer.

Bright white brined garlic cloves. Image via Katayama.

The first time I grew my own garlic, my head swam with the possibility of putting local pizzerias out of business with my own signature garlic knots, selling the rest in such large quantities that I could retire a very rich and smelly man. If you ever took 8th grade math, or have a Ti-82 calculator, you might be convinced to grow garlic by math alone. For every CLOVE of garlic, you can grow up to seven HEADS of garlic (each containing as many cloves). See that? What’s that like 49 cloves? How’s my math?

But things went a little awry. Thanks to a series of beautifully warm November days with global warming highs in the 70s my garlic was fooled into thinking spring had arrived.

Despite the heap of protective mulch over them, garlic scapes busted through, ready to party, not realizing a long winter is just minutes away. I’ve never been so disappointed to see healthy vegetable growth. When the ice cleared in the Spring, there were only three left, from the original ten I had planted, standing proud but conspicuous in otherwise empty pots.

Gelasio Laura Prosseda standing in front of an impressive garlic harvest. Image from the Prosseda Family.

I kept watering them well into the summer, finally pulling them in late July. I stopped watering them a week before harvesting, letting the scapes go brown. Then I gently raised them with a trowel. I can’t tell you how proud I was of my three, weird, tiny heads of garlic.

I cured the precious heads in dry heat and shade under my grill and wound up using most of it in a hodgepodge, hurricane-induced culinary experiment involving sauteed onions, peppers and chicken sausage. It was delicious. Pungent. Spicy. And totally worth the effort.

Boxes of garlic scapes. If you want to be classy, call them fleur d'ail. Just as delicious either way.

Here’s what to do:

• Get good planting stock: Get the kind of garlic that reproduces. Supermarket varieties are probably not the ones you want. You can find out where to get some good, local planting stock on the Garlic Seed Foundation, or take your chances with farmer’s market garlic.

• Planting in the ground is the conventional way, but pots will work too. If you’re a city dweller who wants to plant in the ground, have your soil tested first.

• Plant later in the season, and plant more of it than you want to eat; you might lose some to idiocy. (Ahem). In New York City, that’s less like October and more like late November. You don’t want the garlic to grow too much before the winter, just enough to get some roots going.

• Drop one clove into holes in the dirt 3-4 inches deep, pick the biggest, non-bruised cloves of the bunch. Give them some room too, 5 inches apart from each other.

• Mulching can help protect them from super cold temperatures.

• Continue to water into the colder months, the idea is that you want the roots to continue to grow before the frost hits, but… you don’t want them to sprout too early.

• Cut the scapes (the big green part above the ground) a few weeks before harvest in the summer. Impress your friends and throw them on a pizza. Cook with them like you’d cook with scallions.

• Gently raise the garlic with your hands or a trowel. Dust off the dirt and cure ‘em up by hanging them out of the sun in a breezy spot for about two weeks when it’s warm.

• Celebrate! You just grew garlic and damn, it tastes good.

Cure some garlic heads like this old Cajun woman. Image via Pop Art Machine.

Scott Moe blogs about gardening on his rooftop at Panthy’s Garden. Image research for this post was done by Gijs van der Most.

FURTHER READING
Saveur’s How to Peel Garlic in Less than 10 Seconds, YouTube.

You may also like

• Urban Gardening Tending a backyard vegetable patch or growing herbs on your...
• Cranbery Jam The dead of winter isn’t exactly known for its bounty,...
• Seed Saving It’s Fall and our gardens are dying. You probably spent...

Languidly drinking without interruption.

Punches are originally from India (panch in Hindi), and were taken around the world by the boozy merchant sailors of the British East India Company. The idea of a cocktail you don’t have to make one at a time is good, so where ever it went, it took. The undiscerning rabble stuck by a charming rhyme to make their punches: “One of Sour, Two of Sweet, Three of Strong, Four of Weak.” Easy to remember if you’re already three sheets to the wind, but also handy when the kinds of alcohol and available mixers changed at each docking.

Lucky for us, we’re not limited to what can be dredged up at the port. Here are four punch recipes, dug up or invented (and taste-tested) by Lydia Reissmueller, who’s made cocktail magic in legendary bars from New York to Moscow. Right now, she’s running Tender Bar out of Portland, Oregon.

Stir up these punches for your next dinner party. You’ll feel classy, while sitting back and getting nice and toasted with your friends.

These punches are the opposite of a handle of 5 O’Clock vodka mixed with Dr. Pepper. They’re made with good alcohol and sophisticated ingredients, but are simple to put together. Stick close to the measurements to get the subtleties of flavor. After each spirit, Lydia recommends a brand or varietal.

Nothing finer than a glass of punch by the fireside.

Cranberry Punch (about 15 servings)

1 bottle of gin (Tanqueray or Beefeater)
10 oz Cointreau or Grand Marnier
10 oz unsweetened cranberry juice
10 oz freshly squeezed orange juice
2 teaspoons of almond essence (not the fake stuff)
1 bottle of dry sparkling wine (Gruet Brut, cava or prosecco)

Combine all ingredients, except for the sparkling wine, in a punch bowl. Stir together and store covered in the fridge for at least 2 hours. Once you’re ready to serve, stir the the punch again, then add the bubbly. Put an orange twist* into each cup and and ladle in the punch.

*The nicest twists don’t need special tools. Find a ripe, brightly-colored fresh orange with thick, firm skin. With a small knife (or a regular vegetable peeler), slice off a thin, ribbon-like peel, similar to what you’d get peeling a potato. Do this over each cup so the spray of orange oil lands in the cup. Twist the peel into a spiral to release even more oil and throw it in the cup.

Even the hat is ready for a cocktail.

Royal Pomme Punch (12 Servings)

(Lydia learned this punch from the able hands of James Meehan at PDT New York)

3/4 bottle Dubonnet Rouge (an herb-y wine aperitif)
12 oz Apple Brandy (such as Laird’s Bonded or Calvados)
24 Dashes of Angostura Bitters (or 3 oz St. Elizabeth Allspice Dram)
3 oz fresh squeezed orange juice
12 oz Champagne

At least two days ahead of time, fill a rectangular plastic container with water and put in the freezer to make a big block of ice. Make sure it fits in your punch bowl.

In a pitcher filled with ice cubes, stir together the Dubonnet, apple brandy, orange juice and bitters. Pour the punch through a mesh sieve or cheesecloth into a chilled punch bowl.

Pull your block of ice out of the freezer and let it thaw for 15 minutes until it slides out of the mold. Gently put it into the punch. Top with champagne and serve.

Fun with punch.

Boozy Mulled Cider (makes about 30 servings)

1 gallon of fresh apple cider
2 bottles of amber rum (Appleton’s VX, or a bourbon like Buffalo Trace)
2 apples cored and thinly sliced
4 cinnamon sticks
1 small handful of whole cloves (about 20)
1 small handful of cracked black peppercorns (about 25)
5 cracked green cardamom pods
2 tablespoons of freshly grated ginger

Optionally, you can also add 1 cup of lemon juice (and their peels) and 1 cup of brown sugar.

Combine all ingredients — except the booze — in a pot over medium low heat, stirring occasionally, for 30–40 minutes.

Turn off heat, or turn on lowest possible, and add liquor of choice, stirring well. Strain to order with a tea strainer, OR put all the spices (except cinnamon) in a tea sack in the pot. Serve within 3 hours of making.

Make punch. Give the gracious hostess a chance to sit down and enjoy the night.

Swedish Punsch

This is an original recipe by Lydia. Swedish Punsch doesn’t taste like anything you’ve ever had. It tastes like a Dutch sailor’s grog from 300 years ago, with the snappy freshness of a daiquiri, but with more depth and lots of earthy spicy herbiness.

This is high proof for shelf life. If you can’t drink it all the first time around bottle and cork the stuff — it’ll keep in the refrigerator for months.

1 bottle Batavia Arak (available online at Drink Up NY)
1 bottle Aquavit (Krogstad or Linie)
20 oz ginger honey syrup**
20 oz lemon juice
20 oz orange juice
freshly grated nutmeg for garnish

Combine all ingredients well, and serve it cold or warmed over a low flame. Dilute with water just before serving:  add 1 cup of water to the mix if serving warm, or 2 cups of ice if serving cold. Ladle cold punsch over ice, or warm punch straight, and grate nutmeg on top as an aromatic garnish.

**Combine 1 cup finely chopped fresh ginger, and 1 cup of water in a sauce pan and cook over medium heat for 20 minutes. Add 2 cups of raw honey, turn off heat and stir. Let cool and strain well through a mesh sieve or cheesecloth.

A well planted drink.

Image research by Gijs van der Most.

You may also like

• Cocktail Recipes: The Sour Sours are the taste of languid summer days: margaritas, daiquiris...
• Cocktail Bitters Now that cocktails have weaseled their way back into the...
• Meyer Lemon Marmalade Recipe In 1908, Frank Nicholas Meyer, a professional food explorer, brought...