Dale DeGroff Release Own Brand of Bitters

Branding bitters is not new. Writer Gary Regan started off the trend with his ground-breaking orange bitters several years ago. Now, legendary barman has followed his lead. Following a two-year effort, he has produced his own brand of cocktail bitters. I don't expect he is the last contemporary figure in the cocktail world who will slap his name on a bottle. Simon Ford, who recently left the employ of liquor giant Pernod-Ricard USA, will soon release a gin bearing his name. And I know of one bartender is in talks to lend his name to a new amaro. 

Here's the story I wrote on the new product for the Times: 

Bringing Back a Bitters With a Twist

By ROBERT SIMONSON

When Dale DeGroff, the pater familias of the craft cocktail movement, was working regularly behind a bar decades ago, he liked to use a strong, spicy liqueur called Pimento Dram to accent his drinks. But in the 1980s, the liqueur, made by the Jamaican rum distiller J. Wray & Nephew, disappeared from shelves in the United States.

“When they pulled it off the American market, I just couldn’t find anything like it,” Mr. DeGroff said. “I had to leave that flavor out of drinks.”

Now he has brought it (or something like it) back, but in the form of a bitters. After two years of work with the American-born, French-based distiller and chemist Ted Breaux — the man largely behind the absinthe revival of the past five years — Dale DeGroff’s Pimento Aromatic Bitters is finallyon sale online.

The past few years have seen a bitters boom. Where there were once two reigning products, Peychaud’s (needed for a sazerac) and Angostura (needed for almost everything else), there are now dozens, with a dizzying variety of flavors that lend themselves to very specific applications. That sort of narrow profile wasn’t what Mr. DeGroff was after.

“What I was looking for was a real versatile bitters,” Mr. DeGroff said. “It’s a combination of all those baking spices that you find in Angostura Bitters — which is to say ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, clove — along with just a touch of anise. And there’s a touch of dried orange peel.”

On his Web site, he suggests several cocktails, original and classic, into which a dash or two of Pimento Aromatic Bitters might be dropped. He even boldly suggests that it could supplant Peychaud’s in a sazerac. (“I offer this variation with humility and reverence for the original drink,” he writes.)

For now, curious drinkers can order only a 250-milliliter collector’s edition bottle, priced around $19. Standard 150-milliliter bottles will be available for sale online in September for $10. The bitters are currently made by Mr. Breaux at the Combier distillery in Saumur, France, but production may be moved to the United States in time, Mr. DeGroff said.

What's New

More new spirits and associated liquor products are introduced at the annual Tales of the Cocktail convention in New Orleans than at any other place. This year was no exception. I think I tasted more new things this past July than at any previous Tales. Here are a few of the libations that will soon find their way onto the shelves of your local liquor store.

• Fee Brother Black Walnut Bitters: Joe Fee always arrives at each Tales with a satchel full of bottles of the company's latest invention. This year's addition: Black Walnut Bitters. Not sure of the applications, beyond offering a nice change-up for Angostura in an Old Fashioned. I'll wait for mixologists to figure that one out.
• Lillet Rose: Building on the Lillet line of white and red aromatized wines by 50% is the new Lillet Rose. It is made by blending the wines that form the base of Lillet Blanc and Lillet Rouge, and infusing it with "Bordeaux fruits." You won't be able to get this in the U.S. until April 2012.
• Pierre Ferrand 1840 Original Formula Cognac: According to the Ferrand people, this new iteration of their Cognac was inspired by an old bottle of original Ferrand that was bought at auction, and was selected (from among many such old bottles) by Ferrand cellar master Christian Guerin and cocktail historian David Wondrich as being the best and closest example of the sort of spirit that was put out in the 1800s. The more questions I posed as to how such a guess at the formula was hazarded, the less I understand the process. But this much is clear: it is bottled at 90 proof, higher than most Cognacs, and in keeping with the proofs observed in those times; it is fully intended to be a mixable Cognac, to be used in cocktails; and it tastes quite good. 
• Drambuie 15: This ancient Scottish liqueur has been trying to find a place for itself in the new drinking world for a few years now. They redesigned their bottle a couple years back, making it look less like Drambuie and more like a Scotch vessel. Now they've come out with the first-ever new expression of the producer. To appeal to Scotch fans who find old Drambuie too sweet, they've devised a drier expression that uses less honey and only employs whiskies 15-years-old or older. They're going to market it the way you would a Scotch, and are pushed a drink that uses half Drambuie and half Drambuie 15. There's a way to move product!
• Hochstadter's Slow and Low: This is the latest from Rob Cooper, the man people who brought the people St. Germain and Creme Yvette. It's his take on an old-style Rock & Rye, which is to say, Rye whiskey sweetened with rock candy syrup. All the famed 19th century American mixologists mention this potion it at one point or another. Slow and Low uses six-year-old rye, infused with citrus, honey and horehound, and bottles at 98 proof. It could be argued that this is basically an Old Fashioned in a bottle, though much hotter and much sweeter. It's made in Philadelphia. Unlike the high-toned St. Germain and Creme Yvette, the rauchy marketing for Slow and Low aims low. (Check out the name.) No gracious sipping here. Straight shots—the "full pull" mark on the souvenir shot glass I was given was at the 2 1/2 ounce mark. 
• Merlet Liqueurs: The Cognac-based Merlet clan has been making liqueurs for 150 years. Their line is just now reaching out shores. I tasted through their line, and found not a dud in the bunch, with the rich, dense, bright Creme de Framboise and light, but strong Creme de Poire standouts. The Creme de Cassis is infused with the same fruit twice, with the result decidedly potent.
• Brugal 1888: The latest from the venerable Dominican rum distiller. It’s a blend of rums aged 5-14 years, first aged in American white oak and then in Sherry Oak casks from the same source that The Macallan Scotch Whisky uses in Spain. In case you're wondering, yes, Macallan and Brugal are owned by the same corporate body. 1888 is being marketing as a premium sipping rum. It certainly is a smoothy, all caramel, oak and vanilla and just a little spice. 

Campari and Strega Share 150th Birthday Honors

Who would have thought that two neon-colored Italian liquors founded in 1860 would survive to fill 21st century glasses?

It recently came to my attention that both Campari and Strega are celebrating their 150th anniversary this year. You'd think that if you had that kind of staying power, you'd earn the privilege of celebrate your sesquicentennial on your lonesome—at least in your own country! But no, the red and the yellow will have to share.

Strega (or Liquore Strega) was invented by Giuseppe Alberti, and has long been produced by the S. A. Distilleria Liquore Strega in Benevento, Campania, halfway between Rome and Naples. Its yellow color comes from the presence of saffron in its recipe. Approximately 70 herbal ingredients, including mint and fennel, help it out in the flavor department. "Strega" means Witch in Italian; hence, the drink's nickname, "The Witch."

Campari, meanwhile, hails from the north. It was the invention by Gaspare Campari in Novara, Italy. It originally got its vibrant red color through carmine dye, derived from (yeesh) crushed cochineal insects. It contains more than 60 ingredients, making it only a trifle less complex than Strega, if we go by the numbers. Campari has arguably won the popularity contest over the two bottle's 150-year run. Certainly, it's more prevalent in American bars.

If you want to honor both, don't sweat it. Campari is an apertif, Strega a digestif. You can enjoy both in the context of a single meal. 

Not sure how they feel about Strega, but you'll be well set for Campari drinks at the new Pulino's in Manhattan. See below.

The Bitters Maker of Brooklyn

Brooklynites, these days, have forged a reputation for making just about everything needed for a bar from scratch. Beer, spirits, wine, not to mention the various infusions, potions, sweeteners and such that one finds behind the best bars. The only this missing from the borough-wide, liquor-industrial complex is bitters. Oh, yes, many bars make there own house bitters. But there's no non-bar-owning entrepreneur that specializes in bitters production.

Louis Smeby, a 28-year-old from Minnesota with a newsboy's youthful face, is out to seize that territory. A waiter at The Modern who lives in the South Slope, he has been whipping an alarming number of original bitters in his kitchen, and has managed to place them at such estimable watering holes as Gotham bar & Grill, Braeburn, PDT, The Vanderbuilt, Buttermilk Channel, Quarter bar, White Star, and The Modern, among others.

The bitters are sold under the name A.B. Smeby Bittering Company. Smeby had the interested idea of applying the now-entrenched dining and drinking notion of seasonal menus to the world of bitters. He produces different potions based around the flavors found in each season. So the bitters available from him in the winter may not be the ones available in the spring. "Also important to the concept is the size of the bottle that I sell the product in," he said in a recent interview with Off the Presses. "It is a 2 ounce bottle. Bitters have a shelf life, especially when they are made with all-natural products."

Smeby says that most of the brands of bitters sold commercially are full of adjuncts, additives, and artificial ingredients that help maintain their shelf life, "but also offer a very synthetic tasting product. To add to this, they are all sold in bottle sizes too large for their flavor to be maintained before the product is finished, leading to inferior product at the end of the day."

The bars using Smeby's bitters so far seem to be taking them on a drink-by-drink basis, as they find applications for them. The Modern has used his Spiced Cranberry, Black and White (which actually tasted like a classic New York Black and White cookie), Vanilla and Forbidden Bitters in specialty cocktails. PDT has used only the Lemon Verbena bitters on the menu, but owner Jim Meehan thinks the Hibiscus Rose are great, too.

Some of the flavors Smeby comes up with boggle the brain. Apple Cinnamon with Molasses; Licorice-Nectarine (a favorite of mine, though, as of yet, I have no idea how to use it in a cocktail); Highland Heather; and Cherry Vanilla. Semby puts the most stock behind his Forbidden and Diesel bitters. The latter he promotes as a possible substitution for Angostura. I made an Old-Fashioned with it and found the result striking. It added a certain punch to the drink, familiar yet persuasive in its own way.

Smeby's ingredients are mainly locally sources (Lemon Verbana comes from Long Island), but he does go out of his way for some vitals. His cranberries come from Wisconsin; Buddahs Hand Lemons from California; nectarines from the west coast. Most of his spices and seasonings are bought from very small companies that specialize in only two to six products.

The Modern sent over the following original recipe, which I found equally winning:

Devil in White

1.5 oz. Death's Door White Whiskey

1.5 oz. Dolin Vermouth Blanc (not the dry!)

5 dashes A.B. Smeby Black & White Bitters

Stir all ingredients over ice. Strain into cocktail glass. Garnish with two cherries.

Smeby has recently started filling orders to clients in Eugene, Oregon, and Albuquerque. He hopes to take his bitters to the retail market sometime in the future. In the meantime, you'll have to visit one of the above bars to sample his wears.

With Angostura Gone Missing, Bitter Truth Sees Its Moment

The Angostura bitters shortage that has shaken some cocktail quarters in New York has been bad news for high end cocktail bars, but it represents a golden opportunity to the folks at The Bitter Truth.


The German line of bitters is well known to many bartenders, but hasn't been easy for the average Joe to lay his hands on. Until now. Just as the Angostura well runs dry (temporarily), Bitter Truth bottles have finally found American distribution and reached U.S. shores.  And the company has sent out a press release to let everyone know about it.
 

Not Every Bar's Worried About the Angostura Shortage

Not every barkeeper in New York is fretting over the Angostura Bitters shortfall.

Yesterday, the owner of Bamonte's, the age-old Italian restaurant in Williamsburg, was leaning over his bar, reading an article about the shortage in the New York Post, which had just gotten wind of the story.

"You see this?" he asked his longtime bartender. "Bitters shortage."

The bartender, there since 1965, scoffed. "Who cares?" he said. "How much of that stuff do you need? You use a bottle a year, you're lucky." He strode to the center of the bar and plucked up a jumbo Angostura bottle. It didn't look like it was in danger of hitting empty anytime soon.

"What about Old Fashioneds?" asked a barfly. "And Manhattans?"

"Old Fashioned, yeah," said the owner, who remembers decades past when his bar used to be lined with drinkers who would linger for hours, all drinking straight booze and buying rounds for one another. "But Manhattans, people don't like them with bitters. We leave 'em out."

Chances are Champagne Cocktails are none too popular at Bamonte's, either.

One Man's Search for Angostura

As a journalist, products shortages make me suspicious. Sometimes, as with the George Dickel No. 8 Tennessee Whiskey shortage a couple years back, they're real, and you truly can't find the bottle in question. Other times, as with Knob Creek, there's a little hype involved, and the item is not that hard to come by. When I first posted about a potential shortage of one-of-a-kind Angostura, I wondered if New York would truly feel the pinch. If so, I was certain I'd hear about it. Bartenders who are suddenly unable to fill an order for a Manhattan or Old Fashioned are likely to howl about it.

As previously reported by The Guardian back in early November, "Trinidad's House of Angostura has blamed a shortage in ingredients and a financial restructuring. The firm is owned by CL Financial, a Caribbean conglomerate hit by a liquidity crisis, prompting an emergency bailout earlier this year by the government of Trinidad and Tobago. Patrick Sepe, chief executive of the US distributor, Angostura USA, said the production line ran dry in June and was only just getting back on track. "There has been a shortage," said Sepe. "You can't just turn on and off supply of bitters. It's not like producing bottled water – it's a very delicate, intricate process." "

The food blogs picked up on the shortage only this past week with a couple of alarmist posts. So I decided to follow up on the story. I went to local watering hole in Red Hook, where the owner told me he had to go to a friend's bar in Carroll Gardens begging for an extra bottle of Angostura. Was it really that hard to find? "No store between Atlantic Avenue and here has any," he told me.

It set out to investigate. I went to Met Food, Union Market, Stinky NYC, Key Food, Sahadi, Fairway, and several smaller markets. Sure enough, the place on the shelf where Angostura ought to have been was vacant. Store owners—those who knew what Angostura was and what it was used for, that is (outside of the bar world, people don't do a lot of thinking about this product)—seemed surprised they didn't have any, and unaware of any shortage.

OK, so there did actually seem to be a lack of the stuff. I hate not being able to get something I want, so my investigation turned into a mission. Too many cocktail bars in South Brooklyn, I thought. I'll go to some neighborhood where bartenders aren't combing the shelves and buying up the stock. I had to meet a friend for dinner in Morningside Heights, so I aimed for that area. Food Emporium? All out. Garden of Eden? Nertz. I tried about six big markets along Broadway. Then I hit paydirt in a Gristedes around 100th Street! One lonely bottle sitting by intself, all it's brothers having long ago flown the next. I grabbed it and header for checkout.

The girl cashier looked at my only purpose as she scanned it. Twisting up her face into a quizzical expression, she asked, "What's this stuff for?"

If she only knew.

The Sipping News

There's something about the lowly Wisconsin classic, the Brandy Old-Fashioned, that make cocktail writers want to pen essays in its honor. I wrote my own lordly take on the peculiar refreshment in Imbibe magazine earlier this year. Now I see Mssr. Toby Cecchini has composed an ode in none other than the New York Times. Was there ever a local speciality more reviled, yet celebrated? Toby! Fellow Wisconsinite! We should meet for a round of BOFs. I'm buying. [NYT's T Magazine]

The new web-zine Liquor.com has been publishing for a week or so now. On the last day of November, Camper English weighed in with a primer on bitters. I hate him, however, for recommending Bitter Truth's Celery Bitters when it's currently impossible to get them in New York.

The pissant, parvenu, party crashers who tactlessly invaded Obama's first White House state dinner also own a bankrupt Virginia winery that uses plastic cups in the tasting room! [Dr. Vino]

Shane C. Welch, the owner of Six Point brewery in Red Hook, grew up in Milwaukee. I like his beers even more now! [NY Times]

Jamie Goode's decided Nebbiolo is a wonderful grape. He's just finding this out?

Underberg Enjoyed By the Glass in Brooklyn

I don't know whether it's a nod to its dedication to German cuisine, or classic cocktails, or both, but Prime Meats, the Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn, bar and restaurant, has taken to serving Underberg bitters by the glass.

You know Underberg. It's that little tiny bottle in the green and white label. It comes from Germany, where it's been manufactured as a digestif and curative since 1846. The bottles are single serving only and meant to be downed in one gulp at the end of the meal. The potion is made from a selection of the aromatic herbs from 43 countries, and definitely puts the "bitter" in bitters.

Underberg's a kooky little company. They've got their one product and their ride it hard. Promotional literature reads like something you might taken away from an evangelist's tent. (I love how they harp on the fact that it will make you feel "bright and alert," like some 19th century Bavarian schoolchild. Other gems: it works "pleasantly, with a calming effect; as a relaxant in stressful situations"; "The Underberg herbs are a gift of nature.") All of its elements, including shape of the bottle, colour, packaging and the Underberg name are trade marked and copyrighted.

And there's tons of paraphernalia. You can buy an Underberg belt, a Wild West-like item that has holes all around it not for bullets, but little Underberg bottles. When Prime Meats signed on to the Underberg bandwagen, they were given a circular iron rack to rest the bottles in, sort of like the old wire racks that used to hold hard-boiled eggs at some taverns. They were also given a ton of dedicated Underberg glassware. This is an incredibly tall, thin, aperitif glass. It was created by the founder Hubert Underberg, together with glass blowers from Murano, and first displayed at the 1867 World Exposition in Paris. That was a good move by Hubert. There's no mistaking who's enjoying a glass of Underberg at a restaurant. Those beakers stand out a mile.

I watched one diner at Prime Meats order his after-dinner Underberg. The waiter served the towering crystal with care, pouring the black bitter liquid in the small cavity near the top. The patron—it seemed to me—solemnly contemplated the glass for a good 30 seconds, not moving or saying a word. He then seized it by its stem, downed it quickly, and returned the glass to its place. After dabbing his lips with a napkin, he left.

It was impressive, and vaguely continental. It could catch on, folks.

They Sell No Bitters Before Their Time

At this year's Tales of the Cocktail convention, one of the greatest stirs was about the presence of a new Angostura product on the premises. The bitters company, which has surfed through the decades on the strength of one fantastic, one-of-kind item, was ready to roll out its new orange bitters. And if you could find the p.r. rep, she might pull a bottle out of her big black bag and give you one.

I found her, and got her last bottle. I couldn't have been happier if I had been Little Jack Horner pulling a plum out of my Christmas pie. It's a great orange bitters of enormous depth, very likely the best on the market.

It took something close to forever to pin down the bitters' inventor, Peter Traboulay, for an interview, and a few days more to decipher his accent upon transcribing our conversation, but I got it done. Here's the story, just now published on Saveur.com:

After 184 Years, Angostura Visits the Orange Grove

by Robert Simonson

Plenty of snacks and drinks—Snapple, Doritos; take your pick—are wolfed down because they come in so many different flavors. And their parent companies can't stop themselves from rolling out a new product, a new twist on the old formula, every few months or so. Why have one flavor when you can give the people 23?

But there are other companies that are content to innovate at a slower pace. Take Angostura: back in 1824, Dr. Johann Siegert, a German expatriate living in revolution-torn Venezuela, put together a potent mix of herbs and spices he called "amargo aromatico" and used it to provide relief to soldiers suffering from fever and other ailments. Folks found that it hit the spot, in more ways than one. The world over has since come to know the small bottle with the oversize, densely worded label as an indispensable tool in the building of many cocktails.

And that was that: on one, singular product was an empire built. Angostura has dominated its niche industry for a century and a half, enduring as many another once popular bitters (Boker's, Abbott's, and Hostetter's, for instance) fell into disuse or obscurity. The company saw no reason to fix what wasn't broken or to improve on what already seemed perfection.

Now, though, the bitters scene is changing. In 2008, Angostura introduced its first new concoction in 184 years, Angostura Orange Bitters. To understand the effect that has had on the cocktail world, imagine how mechanics might react if WD-41 suddenly appeared.

One might well assume that Angostura jumped into the orange bitters game in reaction to the recent swelling of the category. A popular ingredient in the late 19th century—some historians believe it made appearances in classic gin martinis—orange bitters had all but disappeared from bars by the mid-1900s. But during the cocktail revolution of this past decade, several new varieties of orange bitters have hit the market, include Fee's, Regan's, and the Bitter Truth.

Peter Traboulay, who formulated Angostura's new bitters, says his company was not chasing trends, though. It had been playing around with orange recipes for 20 years but had never struck a formula that satisfied company standards. When Trabouley decided to get serious about making an orange bitters, he first sampled the product of every past failed experiment. "I reviewed what was done before," he said. "That gave us a platform to take it further." Two years ago, he began creating recipes for new versions, more than 15 in all. He narrowed the list down to two finalists, which he then tested with 30 leading London bartenders. The result was inconclusive. "They were split down the middle, because the differences between the two were very subtle," he said. Trabouley broke the tie by letting the bartender who won the Angostura International Cocktail Competition make the ultimate selection.

The Angostura that reached the shelves earlier this fall is composed of 15 ingredients, including five orange oils and six different spices. "We didn't want to take away from anyone's mind that this is orange," Traboulay said, explaining the result he was after when creating the bitters. "We wanted a complex array of orange flavors and a complex array of spice. We never wanted just one flavor." Most reviews of the product have agreed that Angostura's version of orange bitters possesses a depth and complexity not found in competing products. Whereas some other orange bitters have a light, simple taste, Angostura's has a tangy, woody bite and a long finish.

Traboulay said that the world would not have to wait until the 22nd century for Angostura to stir again, as he's toying with other fruit-based bitters. Another new addition to the Angostura model might come to light in two years or so—possibly a peach bitters.

Experimenting with Baker's Bitters

As I was fixing up my homemade Amer Picon a couple months back, I noticed that on the same sheet that bore the recipe for said amaro (given to me by a worker at LeNell's) there was a recipe for an orange bitters by Charles H. Baker, Jr., the author of the well-known (among cocktail people, anyway) "The Gentleman's Companion." It didn't look so hard, so I decided to give it a shot.

The first stop involved soaking in grain alcohol (I used vodka) for 15 days: chopped up dried orange peel, and 1/2 drachm ("Drachm"?! Jesus Christ! Had to look that one up!) each of cardamom, caraway and coriander seeds. After 15 days, I poured off the spirits through a cheese cloth and sealed them again. I then took the seeds and peel, put them in pan, muddled them a bit, covered them with boiling water and simmered for five minutes. The whole mixture was then bottled and set for two days. I then drained it off and added it to the spirits. Burnt sugar was added for color. The whole shebang was then filtered an extra time and allowed to sit until it was clear.

I tried it. Smelled good. Tasted good. I was amazed how relatively easy it was to make bitters. I always imagined the stuff impossibly complicated. (The really good ones probably are.) I'm told this was the recipe that Gary Regan used as the base for his orange bitters. Trying Baker's bitters next to Regan's and the Fee Brothers orange bitters, I realized it was a bit simplistic. Both of the others had more depth; Regan's was more bitter and herbal, while Fee's highlighted the bright orange flavor. But Baker's was pleasant. The cardamom comes through strongly, and the potion had a light touch.

I then wondered what to do with the stuff. Were there some old recipes that called specifically for it? I consulted St. John Frizell, a NYC bartender and writer who will be presenting a seminar on Baker at this years Tales of the Cocktail. When he gave me the obvious answer—use them in any drink that calls for orange bitters—I realized how dumb my question one.

I gave Baker's bitter three tries. Once in a Martini, served the old-fashioned way, when it's thought that orange bitters were part of the drink. Then as part of a Pegu Club. And finally as a component of a Bourbon Crusta. All three worked splendidly, and I really felt the delicate flavor of the bitters was an asset, complimenting each drink like a gentle grace note. I was quite pleased.

I also realized how much improved my mixing skills were after taking the B.A.R. course two weeks back.