Contents:

1 Towel. For wiping sweat from brow during Southern heat.

1 Fernet Branca. For instant joy and street cred to boot.

1 Bottle Opener. Duh.

1 Packet of Goody’s Powder. For the morning after.

1 Pack of Mints. To spare those around you.

1 Sharpie Pen. To appease the clamoring hordes of autograph hounds.

Holeman & Finch operation hospitality? Mission accomplished.

Top 10 Potent Potables Consumed at the Atlanta Food & Wine Festival, 2012:

10. Van Winkle Special Reserve 12 year old Bourbon: I had forgotten how good the Van Winkle 12 is, really not that far below the 15 year old
9. Four Roses Single Barrel Bourbon: full of baking spice and honey, very nice
8. The Longnecker: sparkling wine with a float of Four Roses yellow, you need to try this, now
7. Chatham Artillery Punch: with Dave Wondrich at the History of the Southern Cocktail seminar, quote: “I’ve seen bad things happen from drinking this.”
6. Pappy Van Winkle 20 year old Bourbon: can’t go wrong
5. Mezcal Negroni: from bartenders Paul Calvert and Navarro Carr, earthy and smoky and sharp and bitter, just like I like it (made with Cocchi Vermouth di Torino and Aperol)
4. Bourbon Nib Brittle: from Olive & Sinclair Chocolate in Nashville. You don’t necessarily taste bourbon in this, but the aging of the cacao nibs in the barrel adds some incredible flavor to this dark chocolate (67%, from Ghana!) and cacao nib brittle.
3. Barolo Chinato cocktail: from Neal Bodenheimer and Nick Detrich of Cure and Bellocq in New Orleans, this was whipped up with Rittenhouse Rye, Hum (American Amaro basically), and orange peel. Wow, great balance, depth and flavor.
2. Dulce Monastrell Cobbler: another one from the boys of Bellocq, this one with a Spanish fortified wine, a bit of simple syrup, bitters and fresh fruit. An amazingly refreshing but rich summer cocktail.
1. 1863 and 1912 Madeira: OK, I didn’t even drink this one – but the best moment of the festival was just smelling the aroma in the air of the room where these ancient Madeiras were being poured. Seriously. Amazing.

Anyone else out there make it to the festival? Let us know what your favorite sips were, too!

Also, check out the incredibly awesome bartender survival kit that Holeman & Finch was handing out to visiting bartenders.

On the much less expensive end of the spectrum, I also noticed this elegant and futuristic bit of unnecessary wine gadgetry: the Rabbit Wine Chilling Carafe from Metrokane. It features a silicon sleeve that secures a stainless steel ice chamber within a carafe of fine crystal – all that fancy technology designed to chill your wine to a nice, crisp, tongue-numbing, absolute zero on the Kelvin scale, AKA −273.15 °C. OK, I made that last part up. I assume it keeps the wine nice and cold. And simply looks cool, too (despite the eerie resemblance to a urine sample taken at NASA headquarters).

So what are the latest bar gadgets that you’ve had your eye on? Or, like me, do you prefer to save the dough for the good stuff? Either way, cheers.

I dig Cathead Vodka. I like the outsider art craftiness of the somewhat menacing looking cat on the bottle. I like the little-bitty blue cat heads on the backside of the back label that are visible through the clear spirit. I like that they “support live music!”(who wouldn’t?).  I like that they’re from Mississippi and are doing something good in that state that could use more good things (tamales are my favorite very good thing from Mississippi). And I also like that they are the first company to attempt a honeysuckle flavored vodka.

For sons and daughters of the South, there are few memories of youth as fine as that of discovering a good honeysuckle patch and having an older sibling or friend or parent show you the precious prize that rests within each little flower. You mean there’s more to that messy bush of tiny flowers than just an intoxicating aroma? Then you try one – plucking a honeysuckle flower off the vine, carefully clipping off the end and pulling the stamen on through the flower, hoping and praying that your bit of effort results in a big blob of honeysuckle nectar, then seeing that drop emerge on the end of the string and dipping it onto your tongue. Ahhh, a too tiny touch of heaven. You can see why I might be excited at the prospect of a good honeysuckle flavored spirit – the mystical honeysuckle is engrained in my memories.

And I had reason for hope, too, knowing that Cathead Vodka makes a good Southern product, having purchased a bottle of their regular vodka a few months ago at H&F Bottle Shop here in Atlanta. Well, the Cathead Honeysuckle is now hitting store shelves. The company was kind enough to share a bottle with me for tasting purposes.

The first thing I noticed was that the label sports a smaller cathead, now in gold, missing its eyes and nose and mouth. And I do miss those features, the angry air they lent its older brother cat. The Honeysuckle clocks in at 70 proof, a notch below the standard Cathead Vodka’s 80 proof, so you can say there’s more missing than just the eyes and nose and mouth. So how does it taste? Has Cathead been able to put the essence of springtime in the South into a bottle of vodka?

Let us see. On to the tasting notes:

Cathead Honeysuckle Flavored Vodka
70 Proof
Approx. $20 Retail

My hopes for magic in a bottle are dashed as soon as I sniff this.  At 70 proof, the nose is amazingly like rubbing alcohol, cheap vodka, something you might have turned down back in college. Yes, there is some honeysuckle in there, but it’s buried so deep under fumes and a bandaid plasticity you don’t want to look for it. On the palate, layers of sharp burn and cloying sweetness duke it out, with none of the delicate beauty that honeysuckle should display. There’s also a literal lip-tingly burn to it.

The fact that Cathead’s regular vodka is so nice makes this all the more confounding. And the Honeysuckle is just 70 proof? Cathead was on to something when they lowered the alcohol in the Honeysuckle, but they didn’t go far enough if they want anyone to enjoy this out of the bottle. And maybe that’s the point – this cries out for mixing, but it didn’t have to be so.

Sure enough, when a good bit of water is added, the alcohol heat is washed away, kind of like the cool that comes after a storm. The delicate floral notes start to emerge more seamlessly. It even turns into a decent sipper, smooth and clean, with a small amount of sharp sweetness that isn’t quite in the league of honeysuckle, but pleasant nonetheless. There’s plenty of room to use this in cocktails, with pineapple juice sounds nice, or even some dry vermouth in larger than normal proportion to the vodka. But does it capture the pleasure of honeysuckle like sweet tea vodka does for sweet tea? Not even close.

I hate to put out a bad review. Especially on a brand I like. (Thankfully) I doubt they’ll lose any sales because of this, but Cathead Honeysuckle just doesn’t cut it. Hopefully they can improve upon the formula – I’m still eager for a spirit that does honeysuckle right. Verdict? Avoid. If you’re looking for something with a lovely floral profile not unlike honeysuckle that will work great in cocktails, check out St. Germain elderflower liqueur. Or, better yet, head down to your local honeysuckle bush and have at it!

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* Thirsty South Rating Scale:

Wow – among the very best: knock-your-socks-off, profound, complex liquid gold!
Excellent – exceptional in quality and character, worth seeking out, highly recommended
Good Stuff – solid expression of its type/varietal, enjoyable and recommended
Fair – fairly standard or exhibiting obvious though minor flaws
Avoid – move away folks, nothing to see here, a trainwreck

Full Disclosure: Bottle provided as tasting sample for this review.

So-called “white whiskey” or “moonshine” brands seem to be breeding like bunnies these days. That makes sense, given the interest in the “forbidden” nature of moonshine and especially given the explosion in startup distilleries across the South and the United States more broadly. If you’re a startup, the last thing you want to do is make a product that you can’t sell for three or six or ten or (gasp) twenty years. White whiskey, of course, is “white” because it’s unaged.

Now, unaged does not mean “without character,” but the character of an unaged whiskey is inherently very different than one that’s been sitting in oak for years. The unaged whiskies I’ve tried have ranged from undrinkable to truly fantastic. At the truly fantastic end of the spectrum is the OMG Pure Rye from High West – delightfully yeasty and a real artisan product. At the undrinkable end of the spectrum are a few of the white whiskies put out by the larger producers who have simply bottled the stuff that goes into their barrels before it ever hits the barrel. At best, these are educational drinks and give insight into the wonderful magic that time in a barrel can make of a spirit that you’d rather spit out at first.

Two of the more interesting Southern white whiskies to arrive in the past year have very different ideas of what a white whiskey can (or should) be, and you get a sense of those ideas right on front of their (beautiful) bottles. The first bottle, Troy & Sons Distillers Small Batch Moonshine, calls out that that it is “handmade with Crooked Creek corn,” an heirloom variety found near their Asheville, North Carolina, home. This is clearly a story of small batch production and small batch ingredients. The second bottle, American Spirit Whiskey, calls out most prominently that it’s “ultra-filtered.” Their calling card is “versatility” and taking the bite out of typical unaged whiskey alternatives. Intrigued?

Both of these products clock in at 80 proof. Both are clear as glass. Both speak with a slow Southern drawl and have wonderful backstories worth checking out (go to their websites for that!). And both put a big emphasis on their ability to make great cocktails. But what about the distinctions?

Troy & Sons is trying to capture the taste of (really good) moonshine from the past, while American Spirit Whiskey is crafting a modern story that both embraces and eschews its whiskey roots at the same time. How’s that?

American Spirit Whiskey is different than any other whiskey I’ve tasted, especially in its composition. I encourage you to read their FAQs for the whole story, but the gist of it is that this is a blend of 5% “bourbon-quality white dog” and 95% grain neutral spirits (distilled from corn) that is then filtered through a unique process that does indeed produce a surprisingly smooth and flavorful result. This is akin to a gateway whiskey for vodka drinkers. And, in that respect, it works. Here in Atlanta, bartenders have embraced the stuff as it is highly adaptable to a range of cocktail recipes. Likewise, Troy & Sons has won raves for their Small Batch Moonshine. One taste lets you know that corn is the source.

So how do the two compare taste-wise? On to the tasting notes:

American Spirit Whiskey
80 Proof
Approx. $30 Retail

The nose is clean, but with a definite hint of grain or malt, a bit of grassy herbs, and just a touch of a purple grape-like fruitiness. Neat, there is a nice smooth body to it, again a clean-ness that drinks surprisingly well and goes down (a bit too) easy. It has a soft minerality to it, and, like the nose, a slight fruitiness. The finish stops short but then comes back with a bit of heat at the end. A cube of ice accentuates the crispness, and brings out a subtle caramel-honey towards the finish. Cocktails? Yes, use this in place of vodka in just about anything for a bit more intrigue. Vodka is actually a better frame of reference for this than “whiskey” per se.

Good Stuff – a unique and intriguing spirit, suitable for sipping or a wide range of cocktails. Calling it “the Most Versatile Whiskey in the World” may not be quite right, but it is versatile, indeed. Here are some good recipes to get you started.

Troy & Sons Distillers Small Batch Moonshine
80 Proof
Approx. $30 Retail

The nose on this nearly explodes with green corn or corn husk, especially after the subtle clarity of the American Spirit Whiskey. There’s a bit of a green menthol undertone on the nose as well that takes this away from a basic corn profile and into the territory of a good sake. The mouthfeel is lush and round, and the sweeter side of the corn starts to show, but again with an herbaceous quality that rounds out the sweet corn character. The finish is pleasantly long, with a lip smacking lingering layer of minty corn. Minty corn? It works. With a cube of ice, the body rounds out even more, the sweetness pops in the mid-palate, the finish smooths out as well. As for cocktails, Troy & Sons says to use their moonshine “in place of gin, vodka, tequila or rum.” That’s a big stretch if you ask me – this is corn whiskey, through and through, and very good corn whiskey at that. I’d say look for recipes that call for moonshine and this will beat out competitors, or for something adventurous, look for recipes that call for sake and see how this works.

Good Stuff – this may be the best commercial “moonshine” I’ve had, meaning it captures the character of what really good moonshine should be, with evident corn but enough complexity and smoothness to make things really interesting.

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* Thirsty South Rating Scale:

Wow – among the very best: knock-your-socks-off, profound, complex liquid gold!
Excellent – exceptional in quality and character, worth seeking out, highly recommended
Good Stuff – solid expression of its type/varietal, enjoyable and recommended
Fair – fairly standard or exhibiting obvious though minor flaws
Avoid – move away folks, nothing to see here, a trainwreck

Full Disclosure: Products provided as tasting samples for this review.

Nana lived 96 years, but she never got old. It may sound strange or even preposterous to say that about anyone approaching 100 years of age, but, for dear Nana, it was true. She was 96 years young, still going strong, still living a life that would leave others shaking their heads in admiration and delight. Her life was full of grace and kindness, smiles and dancing. Oh, and bourbon.

I should rephrase that… her life was not full of bourbon, but seeing Nana with a glass of bourbon or Tennessee whiskey in the evening, among friends or family, was a common sight. I am fully of the belief that a whiskey a day can keep the doctor away, and Nana’s life seems strong support for that notion – she was healthier than most people half her age, or even a quarter of her age, for that matter. Amazing. But she wasn’t always a bourbon drinker. She started on Scotch.

Nana married Bert E. Barnett back in 1938. They seemed a perfect pair, but there was one jarring jolt in the harmony of their relationship. Bert drank bourbon; Nana drank Scotch. It may not seem such a problem today, a husband and wife preferring different breeds of whiskey. But back then in Memphis, restaurants required diners to bring their own bottles. Suffice it to say, carting in a bottle of bourbon AND a bottle of Scotch simply wouldn’t do. A compromise would have to be brokered.

Nana never shared exactly what it took for her to stow aside the Scotch and join her husband Bert on the bourbon side of things. I imagine it was really another example of her Southern graciousness, putting aside her own personal preference to bring a bit of joy and harmony to the world around her. But Nana did discover her own joy in her decision – she become a bourbon convert. The brand or the age of the bourbon didn’t much matter, just the bourbon-ness of it. I could go on about how Nana was like a glass of bourbon – a bit strong, a bit sweet – but I think I’ll just stop and offer a toast. To dear Nana.

Here’s a clip from a short documentary made about the life of Nana, on Scotch and the “worst thing you can do” to a glass of bourbon:

Nana: from Thirsty South on Vimeo.

One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Dear

With all the awesome new vodka flavors out there (CAKE! WHIPPED CREAM!!! CHOCOLAT RAZBERI!!!!! FLUFFED MARSHMALLOW!!!!!!!!), I’m amazed no one is talking about what surely must be the best friend to any aspiring bottle-juggling-mixologist-in-training. Bitters? No way. Too old school. I’m talking the ultimate flavor enhancer for your cocktail creations. Something that’s smooth and sweet and likely to cause women to swoon in anticipation. Ahh, yeah, break out the Coffee-Mate! What? You’ve never made a Coffee-Mate-ini? If not that, what about sneaking a little bit of vodka or whiskey into your morning Coffee-Mated coffee flavored beverage? No??? Who are you? C’mon, they’ve already got Amaretto and Irish Creme and Eggnog ready to go; you’re halfway there before you even start.

OK, I’ll be honest. I hate the stuff. You will never ever ever find a bottle of Coffee-Mate in my house. The ingredient list is enough to scare the bejeezus out of anyone opposed to consuming large quantities of chemically-modified foodstuffs (actual example: WATER, SUGAR, PARTIALLY HYDROGENATED SOYBEAN AND/OR COTTONSEED OIL, AND LESS THAN 2% OF NATURAL AND ARTIFICIAL FLAVORS, SODIUM CASEINATE (A MILK DERIVATIVE)**, MONO- AND DIGLYCERIDES, DIPOTASSIUM PHOSPHATE, CELLULOSE GEL, CELLULOSE GUM, CARAGEENAN, DEXTROSE). Delicious, right? The whole idea of flavoring your coffee with chemically-enhanced “creamer” is antithetical to the whole notion of enjoying COFFEE. Enough ranting, though, let’s get to the cocktails! (There is an actual cocktail at the end of this rant.)

Milk and cream are not entirely foreign to the cocktail bar. There’s the White Russian, of course, and the Irish Coffee. Those are both acceptable uses of dairy behind the bar, if you ask me, but the slope gets very slippery after that, once you head into the land of the Screaming Orgasm (the drink, that is). I did, however, discover another acceptable usage of dairy, particularly the Coffee-Mate “almost dairy” type: when your friends whip up a batch of espresso-bean-infused bourbon during a spring break-induced fit of ingeniuty and invite you to figure out what to do with it. Sure, you can go elegant and play around the robust coffee with aromatic bitters and nut-based liqueurs and even certain dark beers boiled down to a syrup. Or, you can go crass and commercial. Espresso-infused bourbon… meet Fat Free French Vanilla Naturally and Artificially Flavored Coffee Creamer and a few cubes of ice. Magic. You can thank me later. And don’t be surprised next time you show up at your favorite bar and there’s a big shelf full of Coffee-Mate beside the Italian Amaro and Carpano Antica and all that jazz. Just hope they don’t start juggling the bottles, that stuff makes a mess.

Why do I hate these types of events? Insert rant here… because I hate large tents or ballrooms full of lots of people pushing their way through crowded aisles trying to get in as many sips as possible in an allotted time. After the tenth taste or so, your tongue begins to numb to any joy of tasting anyway. The atmosphere suppresses any ability to sit with a drink, to get to know it beyond a cursory sensation. Outliers become more notable simply because they stand out from the norm. There’s simply too much followed by even more, even if (maybe especially because) you’re spitting after every sip so as not to get intoxicated or simply full. And that ain’t right.

Sure, you get the benefit of trying many new things at a big tasting event. And at a high profile event, you actually get the opportunity to meet and speak with the owners and/or winemakers and/or people who really know their stuff and are passionate about their product. That is, at least until the next guy in line starts shoving you out of the way so he can get his free pour.

I went to a trade wine tasting event today. It was for the High Museum of Art’s annual wine auction weekend. This is a big deal wine event, with big deal winemakers present, passionate small producers, all kinds of names I’ve heard but never tried. It’s also for a great cause, the fine art museum that calls Atlanta home. I had to be there, right? Well, I did get to meet some fascinating people. I did get to try a few wines that were really interesting (among many things that were not). And I did get to reconnect with some friends in the business that I don’t get to see often enough. But that doesn’t change the fact that I felt a bit depressed at the end of it, yearning for something like the wine tasting I went to a few nights before, where it was one passionate person sharing her family’s story with a small room of people who really cared about the topic at hand. I’d rather meet that one person, taste that one winemaker’s wines, than speed date through a crowded room for the opportunity to taste a tantalizing array of too much. Sure, each type of event has its purpose, and each has its place. I’m just sharing my preference, the way I find more relevant to the enjoyment of wine (or spirits, or beer, or whatever), the more intimate route. (Dear public relations people: if you must blacklist me from future events for my remarks, so be it)

So, with that said, I’m happy to share the winemakers I met whose wines really did manage to break through the crowd and leave an impression upon me. The next few notes will probably leave you saying, “wait, didn’t he just say he hates events like this?” True enough, I have to be honest, I did enjoy a few moments among the masses.

First off, I really dig the pinot noir of Kosta Browne. These are fairly pricey wines that I’ve only rarely tasted, and it was great to try a few of their wines and meet Michael Browne in person. Their Russian River has a great mossy forest floor aspect to it (yes, that’s a good thing). I may have liked their Sonoma Coast pinot even more, with a bit more balance between the woods-y notes and the dark fruit, a fairly voluptuous take on pinot noir. The pinot noir being poured by Andy Peay from Peay Vineyards also impressed, especially the “Scallop Shelf Estate,” superb floral and spice nose, lovely body.

Pierson Meyer‘s Heintz Vineyard chardonnay was fascinating, more mineral and then intensely vibrant than other Heintz vineyard chardonnay I’ve had (there are many, and they all tend to be excellent in different ways). I learned that their winemaker, Robbie Meyer, is actually from Atlanta and went to the University of Georgia – always good to meet Atlanta folks who have made it in the wine world. His L’angevin Russian River pinot noir is also my kind of wine, full of spicy undertones.

You’ll notice I don’t mention many cabs or other big reds, they were present in abundance, but none of them really spoke to me. I’ve moved on from the attraction of big wines… AND big wine events.

P.S. I realize for many people in the trade, attending large trade tastings is very important. This is from the perspective of both a consumer (who has attended many large scale fundraiser wine tasting events) and a writer (who covers both trade and consumer events). Thanks, any feedback appreciated in the comments below.

If you’re interested in wine, especially wine with age, do yourself a favor and seek out the opportunity to taste the wines of Lopez de Heredia, one of the great Spanish Rioja producers that has been making extraordinary stuff for about 135 years now. I had the pleasure of visiting their winery a few years ago, so was thrilled to see that Maria Jose Lopez de Heredia, great-granddaughter of the founder, would be in Atlanta and leading a tasting at Tower Wine and Spirits. That event was just last night, and it was another opportunity to experience the magic of this winery and the steadfast resoluteness of their approach to winemaking. The wines of Lopez de Heredia are different, unique, uncompromising and alluring. If you want simple sipping and easy enjoyment, these wines are not for you. If you relish experiencing history and being beguiled by a wine, Lopez de Heredia is worth seeking out.

Maria Jose Lopez de Heredia and a few of her family's wines

At last night’s tasting, Maria spoke to the history of her family’s winery and their dedication to doing things as they’ve been done for over 100 years. The wines of Lopez de Heredia are made for aging – they spend up to 10 years in barrel before being bottled, and then many years more in bottle in the winery’s amazing underground cellars for further aging. Current releases range from 1991 to 2005. Yes, you read that right, the current releases go back more than two decades and have been sitting happily in Lopez de Heredia’s cool, humid, mold-covered (good mold!) cellars in Haro, Spain.

As we began tasting, Maria pointed out a few unique aspects of tasting these wines. The whites are best served close to room temperature (slightly chilled) to allow the flavors to fully show their stuff. I’ve had them served cold before, and it definitely does the wine a disservice. She does not recommend decanting, but opening the bottle up a bit in advance will not hurt. These wines do evolve in very interesting ways over the course of an hour or two hours or even two days. Maria also shared that the wines are really made for food – yes, they are fascinating by themselves, but paired with some cheese, some meats, the enjoyment increases. (On that note, Tower’s Stacey Sondek did a nice job putting together an array of Spanish cheeses, smoked fish, prosciutto and more to accompany the wine).

The wines tasted last night included two Lopez de Heredia whites and four reds. Very brief tasting notes are below, but the overwhelming takeaway is that these are stunning wines of complexity and character, unlike anything being made in America or anywhere else in the world really (on the red side, you’ll see some similarities to older Burgundies, but Lopez de Heredia certainly has its own very distinct terroir). Lopez de Heredia also focuses on their two primary vineyards – Tondonia and Bosconia – and contrasting the two demonstrates the degree to which the wines from nearby vineyards can diverge, even with  very similar mixes of varietals in the bottle. Bosconia produces more earthy and powerful reds; Tondonia is lighter and more elegant.

I could go on and on about Lopez de Heredia, but will simply wrap up by repeating the recommendation that you seek out these wines for a singular experience. Tasting notes (rather haphazard, scribbled over conversation) follow, then a few photos to give you a feel for the winery and its evident sense of history in Rioja.

• 2002 R. López de Heredia Rioja Blanco Crianza Viña Gravonia - Nose is lovely but nearly indescribable (at least for me), on the way to waxy lanolin, some wild herbal field notes. Lush but dry, elegant, mid-palate stops short, but then merges into a long citrusy finish.
• 1991 R. López de Heredia Rioja Blanco Reserva Viña Tondonia - This bottle was on. A touch of caramel and sherry on the nose, with some aged gouda madness that I really dig. Rich and balanced with a beautiful mouthfeel, lingering acidity through the finish.
• 2005 R. López de Heredia Rioja Crianza Viña Cubillo - Smoked red pepper and dark cherry nose. Thin start, then fruit comes on strong, cherry and an almost astringent cranberry. A touch of pucker, but soft throughout.
• 2003 R. López de Heredia Rioja Reserva Viña Bosconia - On the way to Nuits-Saint-Georges… nose was reticent at first, then opened up, beautiful dark fruit on the palate, a bit of tart cranberry, deep though not overpowering at all.
• 2001 R. López de Heredia Rioja Reserva Viña Tondonia - Wow nose to get things rolling, nice fruit and floral rose, some musty funk behind. On the lighter/more elegant side for sure vs. Bosconia.
• 1994 R. López de Heredia Rioja Gran Reserva Viña Tondonia - Love this, brilliant at certain moments, not quite as much the next, constantly evolving in the glass. The nose veers to spectacular, that unusual LdH funk that is so unique. The wine has vibrancy, but feels old in a good way, elegant, aging gracefully.

The day I created the cocktail, I didn’t even have the ingredients I wanted on hand. After all, not many folks have Kao Liang sitting around the house.  It was a “theoretical cocktail” (and I am now pursuing my PhD in Cocktail Theory, it takes about a lifetime to complete). Now, though, with Kao Liang in hand, I can present a slightly modified version of the recipe. As intended, this drink is strong, with bite and a nice zing to it, and an undercurrent of earthy mellow sweetness pinning it down. The combination of ginger and rhubarb and the slightly funky brown sugar-y notes of (sorghum-based) Kao Liang really works nicely. I’ve axed The King’s Ginger Liqueur in favor of Domaine de Canton, partly due to the fact that I CAN’T GET THE KING’S GINGER in Georgia, and partly because the Domaine de Canton is a bit more subtle and I think it allows the unusual flavors of the Kao Liang to come through. With that… enjoy!

The Jeremy Lin

Ingredients

• 1.5 oz Kao Liang
• 0.75 oz Domaine de Canton Ginger Liqueur
• 0.25 oz fresh lemon juice
• Dash Brooklyn Hemispherical Rhubarb Bitters

Shake ingredients over crushed ice like a madman. Strain into a chilled glass. Slam it home.