I was enjoying a drink at Milk & Honey's miniscule bar a month ago when I noticed a mural painting of the Cynar logo on the wall. It had been distressed so as to look decades old. Sasha Petraske, the owner, was on hand, so I asked him if he had painted the image because of his love of the Italian apertif. "God, no. I just have always loved the logo. I think Cynar is what they make you drink when you go to hell."
For those who don't know, Cynar is a bitter liqueur made from 13 herbs and plants. But nobody really cares about 12 of them. They only know the 13th: artichoke. Cynar makes sure you don't forget it's derived from artichokes by putting a big picture of the green vegetable on the label.
Sasha's comment made me wonder if Cynar could ever be a component of a successful cocktail. I got my answer this weekend at Death & Co., where I noticed a drink on the menu composer of Gin, Vermouth and Cynar calle "Cynartown." (I'm pretty sure that was the name.) I asked head bartender Phil Ward about it, and he seemed to have no reservations recommending it. He was the anti-Sasha. "I love Cynar," he said.
The potion was composed of two ounces Beefeater Gin, 3/4 ounce Carpano Antica, and 1/2 ounce Cynar. It was smooth and silky, a elegant mix of herbal flavors. It went down quick, as did the two cherries that came with it. There's hope for Cynar yet.
The Birth of the Cynarata
4 comments:
I noticed your Cynar drink and decided to throw up a Cynar drink of my own. I made something up a few weeks back and had bee meaning to get it on my site for a while. Lets declare it International Cynar Day!
Great, Seamus. Where can I find your drink?
Oh. . . I forgot to mention my site.
www.bunnyhugs.org
You'll find the drink there.
There's a class of drinks called "Black Manhattan"'s that substitute some amaro or bitter for the sweet vermouth.
Here's my drink du jour:
3 ounces Rye Whiskey (I used Russell's)
3/4 ounce Cynar
dash Fee Brother's Orange Bitters.
Stir briskly, strain and serve up with a cherry.
The Cynar dramatically cuts the normal sweetness of the Manhattan, sending it pleasantly to the dark side.
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