We will introduce skills and factoids as the need arises. But there are a few things you really must know before we get going.
CHILLING GLASSWARE
Chilling your glassware is the essential first step in preparing any drink that is served without ice. It ensures a cold sip, makes you look like you know what you’re doing, and gives you time to ponder what the hell you’re going to make. Simply fill the glass with four ice cubes and a splash of cold water before you start mixing. When you are ready to pour your drink, dump the ice and give the glass a good sharp flick over the sink to ensure that a minimum of moisture is left in the glass.
If you have freezer space to spare, you can also freeze your glasses. Rather surprisingly, just three or four minutes in the freezer will give a glass a good frost. And you will definitely land with a very chilly drink, if not a pile of glass shards in your freezer.
Cocktail glasses should always be chilled, but don’t forget to chill champagne flutes, too—particularly important when you are mixing a champagne cocktail that calls for 2 or 3 ounces of room temperature spirit to be poured directly into the glass. For drinks that are served in a highball or old-fashioned glass over fresh ice (and not all are, see Sazerac), chilling is less important but may still feel like the right thing to do on a hot day.
MEASURING
A small, clear measuring cup—the kind typically used for cooking or baking—is more useful than a jigger.
SIMPLE SYRUP
Simple syrup is used in many recipes as a sweetening agent. The recipe goes like this: one part fine sugar to one part hot water. Stir.
Make plenty for yourself: a bottle will keep refrigerated for at least a month or, if spiked with a small dash of neutral grain alcohol (e.g., unflavored vodka), far longer. For recipes that call for a “rich” simple syrup, add another bit of sugar.
If you are terribly lazy and degenerate, you can always just use a spoonful of sugar instead of simple syrup. But we must protest: the sweetness mixes far more evenly into an iced cocktail when the sugar is already diluted into syrup. That being said, we will point out some recipes that specifically call for sugar.
If you are only moderately lazy and degenerate, and can’t be bothered making simple syrup ahead of time but would like to put in your best effort when the need arises, remember this: a lot of recipes call for 3/4 ounce of simple syrup. There are about two measured tablespoons to an ounce. So for these recipes, you will want to mix about 3/4 tablespoon (or roughly 3 teaspoons)—each of sugar and warm water. This isn’t totally precise, but it’s close enough for a lazy boozer like you.
JUICING
A variety of contraptions can be used for squeezing the bejesus out of a lemon or lime. Whatever you use, for nearly all recipes you will want your juice thoroughly strained, since pulp can really drag down the quality of the drink. Most squeezers do only a fair to middling job of straining. Since this part is really important, use a very fine wire cooking strainer to remove the pulp before pouring the juice into the mixing glass.
MIXING
The best tool for mixing is a classic Boston shaker: one large glass and one slightly larger tin. Some glasses have measuring lines, which allows you to avoid messing up a separate measuring cup or jigger. If you are holed up in a cabin twisted up on methamphetamines or otherwise short of tools, a clean glass jar with a screw top will work just fine.
Not to torture you with the obvious, but when we say “shake” or “stir,” we mean to do so with ice. So build the drink in the mixing glass without ice (this allows you to measure as you pour, especially if your mixing glass has measuring lines) and then add plenty of ice—don’t be stingy.
While you are always free to experiment, there is usually a good reason why a drink should be stirred rather than shaken or vice versa: it really does make a difference. Stirring allows delicate, carefully balanced flavors to shine; shaking brings in a lot of oxygen and sparkle and slivers of ice. The general rule of thumb is that if the mixed ingredients are clear, stir; if cloudy (usually because of the addition of citrus juice), shake.
To shake, clamp down the tin on top of the glass and set to work for about fifteen to twenty seconds. And give yourself a real workout. As famed Prohibition-era cocktail master Harry Craddock wrote in The Savoy Cocktail Book, “Shake the shaker as hard as you can; don’t just rock it; you are trying to wake it up, not send it to sleep!” A seal forms between the glass and tin, so separating the two pieces can take some work. At this point make sure the tin is on the bottom and the glass is on the top: this way, since the tin is larger than the glass, you won’t have any spillage when they detach. Now hold the shaker set in your nondominant hand, cradling your index and middle fingers around the back for support. Then give the tin’s edge a few good whacks with the heel of your dominant hand.
Stirring takes longer, since the ice won’t melt as fast. So commit to it for at least twenty-five to thirty seconds. A long, thin bar spoon is the best instrument, but of course just use what you have.
GARNISHING WITH LEMON PEEL
Though the amount of oil it releases is minuscule, a lemon peel adds a central flavor component. If you are going for a visually perfect peel, the process is unfortunately going to piss you off. Two kinds of peels are possible: one long, thin peel, which you will twist over your drink to release its oils before placing it into the glass (you can also wrap it around a swizzle stick, to coil it); or a shorter, wide peel (or a “boat,” since that’s what it should resemble), which you will lightly fold over the drink and then press along the glass’s rim. Our preference is for the boat—for mostly superficial reasons, though it also happens to be the easier technique. Generally you want as little of the bitter white lining, or pith, as possible—but getting neurotic about it is sure to leave you frustrated and, if you are on your second or third drink, bloodied.
The good news is that the most important part of the peel is the oil it releases. So even if your peels more closely resemble the ungraceful chunks of skin now littering your kitchen floor, your peel will still be a success as long as you are able to squeeze it, outside skin pointing directly onto the surface of the drink, so that the oils spray drinkward. Blood optional.
INSTRUCTIONS
For a long, thin peel, use your thumb to guide a sharp knife around the circumference of the citrus—keep your eye close on the blade for greater control. For a boat, peel from the top of the fruit to the bottom. A wider knife will allow you to take off a wider, longer piece; a narrower knife will allow more control in avoiding pith. A boat can also be prepared with a vegetable peeler—this is probably the easiest way, and it is common even among professional bartenders.
