Napoleon House Gets a Second Pimm's Drink

The Napoleon House's house drink has been the Pimm's Cup since the 1950s. Owner Sal Impastato favored the light-bodied cocktail because it suited the hot New Orleans climate and did not send his patrons under the table with undue speed. (Perversely, for a saloon owner, he did not want his customers to get drunk.)

Today, Napoleon House sells two cases of Pimm's No 1 a day. The bar is Pimm's' largest account in the U.S. Almost all of that goes into the making of Pimm's Cups. But this July that will change.

Impastato is using this year's Tales of the Cocktail convention to launch a new Pimm's-based libation. It will be called the Pimm's Ginger Julep. It will basically be a Julep made with Pimm's and ginger beer and, presumedly, mint. Another cooling drink well-suited to the climate. But one, I'm thinking, that will get customers drunk, and pretty fast. Also one that will take bartenders considerably longer to make. (I've watched them makes Pimm's Cups. They can whip out out in roughly five seconds.)

Not Just for Wimbledon and New Orleans Anymore

I had my first encounter with Pimm's No. 1, appropriately enough, in Wimbledon. It was 1999. Business has relocated a college friend there temporarily. While visiting with him in his lush back yard, he made me a Pimm's Cup and told me he was mad about the stuff. Didn't I love it?

I'll be honest. It didn't make much of an impression at the time. I assumed that my friend was passing through an acute case of Anglophilia and had lost all sense of perspective where English-made goods were concerned.

Pimm's didn't truly leave its mark on me as a drink until 2006, when I stepped across the threshold of the Napoleon House in New Orleans. Everyone was drinking Pimm's Cups, and the bartender was making them by the half-dozen. When in Rome, I thought. 

I liked the drink immediately this time. That it was July and scorching outside, and the cocktail was light and refreshing, certainly helped stoke my affections. I've had many Pimm's Cups at Napoleon House since, as well as at other bars across the world, and at home, where I build them fairly frequently between Memorial Day and Labor Day.

It was a pleasure to report, in this article for the New York Times, that you can walk into almost any respectable bar in NYC today and order a Pimm's Cup with confidence.

A Visit to Napoleon House

I am never long in New Orleans before a pay a call on Napoleon House and order a Pimm's Cup. I love an old bar with history. And I dearly love an old bar with history that is also known for one particular drink.

At the Napoleon House, it's the Pimm's Cup. A peculiar drink for such a manly bar to be famous for, but there you have it. The bartenders here doll them out by the dozens. I would wager that hundreds are sold every day and that the bar has the biggest Pimm's account in the U.S.

However, the past couple years I have grown dissatisfied with the Napoleon House's Pimm's Cups. I remember being wowed the first time I sipped from this superbly refreshing mixture of Pimm's No. 1, lemonade and cucumber slice. But last year, the drink fell flat on my taste buds.

This may be because fresh-made lemonade is a bit of labor to make, so I tend to make my Pimm's Cups with ginger ale. This is a perfectly acceptable variation on the drink, and I have come to love it. Now, when I get a Pimm's made with lemonade, I'm always a bit let down. Ginger ale add more zip to the drink to my mind, whereas lemonade just sits there.

I have other problems with the Napoleon House Pimm's Cup. Their "house-made lemonade" sits in giant jugs until it's needed for the drink. So it's lost a bit of freshness before it's poured in the glass. The same goes for the cucumber slices, which I imagine are all cut up in the morning, and look a bit sad by mid-afternoon. It's not too much to ask for a fresh slice of cucumber to be cut with each drink.

Then there's the execution. A Napoleon House bartender will typically get an order for three or four Pimm's Cups at a time. He'll set the glasses up, one by one next to each other, then grip the Pimm's bottle in one fist and the lemonade jug in the other and star pouring away, filling up one glass, then the next, then the next. It's a very imprecise pour, so there's a fair amount of inconsistency to their Pimm's Cups.

Recently, I bellied up to the Napoleon bar and asks for a Pimm's Cup and specified ginger ale. The bartender said "OK," but them promptly forgot and made my with lemonade. It was passable at best.

The Man Who Sold America The Pimm's Cup?

I own an old book by Maurice Zolotow called "It Takes All Kinds." It's a collection of profiles of odd New Yorkers, published in 1952. One of the profiles is of one Jim Moran (1908-1999), an inventive and irrepressible publicity man.

According to this account, he was hired in 1949 to concoct a stunt that would get the Pimm's Cup—then without much of a following in the U.S.—into the newspapers. His scheme went like this. He contracted the services of band leader Alvino Rey, radio actor Herbert Evers, movie actress Ann Staunton and musical actress Nancy Andrews (using money as a lure, I imagine). He instructed Evers and Staunton to enter the posh East 55th Street Manhattan joint called the Little Club on June 15 around 2 AM and begin demanding Pimm's Cups. Fifteen minutes later, Rey and Andrews entered and ordered Pimm's Cups as well! Only Andrews specified, in a loud voice, that she wanted hers with a spring of mint.

At this request, Staunton pretended to high dudgeon! She argued that everyone in the world with a brain knows that a Pimm's Cup is only properly taken with a cucumber, not mint! Mind your own beeswax, answered Andrews. Evers exclaimed, "You can't talk to my friend like that!" Rey told Evers to back off. Then the food fight began! Staunton flug a cucumber at Rey. Rey punched Evers in the face (or pretended to). Evers fell down. The police were called. Rey was taken to the station house, where he was released on $500 bail (by Moran, in a beard).

The "incident" made the front page of the World-Telegram and the third page of the New York Sun, and got two columns in the Daily News. After that, it broke nationally, and everyone knew about the Pimm's Cup.

The Recession-Proof Bar

I put together this article for Time Out on how to best keep your home bar well-stocked without stinting on quality.

In the bag

A shrinking liquor budget doesn’t mean you have to drink rotgut at home. Stock your bar without emptying your wallet.

By Robert Simonson

RYE
When it comes to brown booze, single-malt Scotch and bourbon top the list in prestige and popularity. But they are also tops in price. Solution? Try rye, the world’s neglected whiskey. Though rye has recently enjoyed a resurgence, time-honored, quality brands like Old Overholt and Rittenhouse can still be had for under $20 a bottle. Either one makes a classic Manhattan.

BOURBON
For Southern-fried Kentucky Derby lovers who must have their precious bourbon, there’s a world beyond Maker’s Mark. An undersung industry standard like Elijah Craig can be found for around $20 a bottle. The even less celebrated but equally fine W.L. Weller Special Reserve is yours for roughly $17.

GIN
It’s vodka’s world; we just live in it. But there’s both a monetary and gastronomic reward in eschewing high-price boutique vodkas for entry-level gins. The basic offerings from Beefeater, Tanqueray and Bombay (not Sapphire!) are benchmark examples of London dry gin, and run only $18 to $25 for the 750-milliliter bottle. So save money and have a real martini for once.

RUM
If it’s a daiquiri you want, opt for Flor de Caña Extra Dry, a four-year-aged Nicaraguan white rum that puts Bacardi to shame in the flavor department. The floral, fruity rum is a mixologist favorite (it’s the well rum at Death & Company), and it sets you back only $16.

BRANDY
For the budget-conscious, French brandy is basically out of the question. But New Jersey apple brandy is well within your means. (Don’t laugh.) The bonded version of Laird’s applejack is lauded by spirits geeks as liquid gold. (The regular Laird’s is dreck.) And it costs only about $21.

VODKA
If you absolutely demand that your tipple be odorless and tasteless, how about giving the costly Ketel One and Grey Goose a pass in favor of the obscure Belgian brand White Nights? (Only $13 a bottle!) Sobieski, a Polish vodka made from rye, is an even better value: $11 a bottle. Believe me: You and your Cosmo will hardly know the difference.

AND MORE!
Hard times call for experimentation. So turn your attention to intoxicants you used to ignore, such as Pimm’s No. 1, a tasty, spiced, gin-based British elixir that runs around $20; or palate-stretching Italian amari and digestifs like Cynar, Averna and Aperol (most are under $25). They may strike you as bitter at first, but you’ll soon adjust. Sort of like the current economy, huh?

Cocktail Incompetency: P.J. Clarke's

It pains me to post this, as I adore P.J. Clarke's for the old school New York tavern it is. But a bad drink is a bad drink.

I was excited to see that Clarke's had Pimm's Cup on the chalkboard as one of its regular featured cocktail. The Pimm's Cup is one of the cocktails I'm mildly obsessed with. And summer was coming on, so I thought: why not?

What I got was the worst Pimm's Cup I've ever drunk. Far too much Pimm's (I'm sure the bartender thought he was doing me a favor by going heavy on the booze), too little Ginger Ale, and no cucumber slice at all! Instead, a friggin' forest of mint! What the hell? If I wanted mint, I'd have ordered a Julep or a Mojito.

Can't wait until I can get to the Napoleon House and get a proper Pimm's Cup.

A Lost Cocktail?

I don't want to jump the gun here, because there are so many cocktails out there, and so many cocktail experts with encyclopedic memories. But I think I may have discovered a lost cocktail.

It's called a Dreicer Special. I think I'm safe in assuming that it was lost to time for a few reasons. One, it was probably never exceedingly popular to begin with. Two, it was invented by one Maurice Dreicer, a true New York character of the 1940s and 1950s who, beginning in 1942, devoted his life "to the search of the perfect steak." Few remember Dreicer today. He spent thousands of dollars in this quest, and ate at thousands of restaurants, eating steak at least once a day. The man was an extreme epicure, but of a very narrow focus. However, Dreicer did on occasion eat other things. Shrimp cocktails were in his repertoire, as was alcohol. He is said to have invented two cocktails: the Dreicer Daiquiri and the Dreicer Special. (He actually made a bit of a splash in the cocktail world, having recording a popular album titled "How to Mix Them." He died in 1989.))

My third reason for believing this cocktail to be lost is it was published only once to my knowledge, in a collection of profiles, long out of print, called "It Takes All Kinds." The book was written by one Maurice Zolotow, who published many biographies, and was prone to writing about the obscure and the eccentric. The book came out in 1952.

I haven't tried the Dreicer Daiquiri yet; it required some ingredients I didn't have on hand. But I did test the Dreicer Special, and found Maurice to have been a man of simple but refined tastes. It's an easy mix:

2/5 Pimm's No. 1
2/5 Grenadine
1/5 lemon juice

Stir with cracked ice and strain into a cocktail glass. The resultant libation is distinctly refreshing, on the sweet side and light in alcohol. The Pimm's comes through most strongly, and the lemon juice nicely cuts through the Grenadine. I'd say it's ideal for summer drinking, or when you want something light. It certainly deserves to be put back in circulation.

Again, the drink may be out there under a different name. But my search turned up nothing. I welcome people to write in with any knowledge they may possess about this potion.

A Spin on Pimm's

Pete Wells' New York Times article about the appeal of Ratafias continues to occupy my mind, some two months after it appeared in the New York Times. After my initial attempt to make a nectarine version of this homemade beverage—made from wine, vodka, vanilla bean and fresh fruit or vegetables—I went on to experiment with mangoes and cucumbers.

The mango brew was fine. The mangoes could have been riper (you really need ripe fruit for ratafias), and my experiment to use less vanilla bean didn't really succeed in making the potion take less strongly of vanilla. But the cucumber ratafia was a marked improvement. I opted for cucumbers because of something I read in Wells article. He mentioned a restauranteur from the Southwest who used a cucumber ratafia as part of a special recipe for a Pimm's Cup. Now, they didn't mention the details of the recipe, but I love me a Pimm's Cup, so I decided I'd act first and figure out the drink later.

The cucumber ratafia was more subtle in flavor than the fruit ratafias; somehow, the vegetable was less affected by the vanilla than the fruit was.

I didn't know how to integrate the ratafia into a regular Pimm's Cup, so I had do some guesswork. The recipe I typically use calls for 1.5 oz. of Pimm's and 4 oz. of ginger ale, with a cucumber slice for a garnish. Nice and simple. I figured the Pimm's ratio should remain the same—it is a Pimm's Cup after all and the liquor shouldn't be shunted aside. I decided to lessen the ginger ale dossage by 1 oz. and fill in the cavity with 1 oz. of ratafia.

Damned if my first guess didn't do the trick. The drink was beautiful. The ratafia added a new layer of complexity to the drink, without complicating things too much. I'll probably experiment with ratios a bit more, but my feeling is that this is the right mix.

For anyone who's interested, I made the ratafia this way:

1 bottle dry white wine
1/4 cup vodka
1 cup chopped cucumber (peeled)
1/4 vanilla bean

Put in a jar, cover and store in fridge for 3-4 weeks.