Broooklyn Social Sazerac

At Off the Presses, the Sazerac Watch never sleeps. Last sighting of this tasty cocktail: Brooklyn Social, a popular retro haunt on Court Street in Carroll Gardens. The bartender—a whimsical, floppy-haired scamp who never answered a question straight (he said he was "not there" at one point)—didn't know how to make it off the back; he had to consult a book. But he was game. Plus, he had all the ingredients. And, finally, the drink was entirely satisfactory.

The bar, by the way, was carved out of a former Sicilian social club and has kept much of that old world appeal. It's dark and clandestine, with a speakeasy feel to it. There are old pictures on the wall and a old ice box behind the bar. The drink menu appears to indicate that the bartenders are schooled in other classic drinks. (That's a ginger Old Fashioned in the photo above.)

So, so far that's a place to get a good Sazerac in Carroll Gardens and Red Hook now, as well as the Lower East Side, Tribeca, Greenwich Village and Soho in Manhattan. At this rate, I may have to take this drink off the NYC endangered list soon.

Museum Cocktails

I was recently near Madison Avenue in the 30s and needed a place to lunch, so I thought I'd try the Dining Room in the Morgan Library for a hoot. I hadn't seen the museum since its renovation and that moment I somehow relished the idea of a quiet, stuffy afternoon dining with some Ladies Who Lunch.

What I did not expect was the fantastic cocktail menu that was handed me. Someone at the Morgan obviously cares about cocktails, for, though the list was short, it was choice. A Pimm's Cup was on offer. So was Death in the Afternoon, made with real absinthe, and a favorite classic of mine: the Aviation Cocktail (gin, maraschino liqueur, fresh lemon). You have to admire a bar that contains Pimm's, absinthe and maraschino liqueur. After each item, the cocktail's ingredients were listed, as well as a one-sentence history of the drink and an estimated year of birth.

I ordered the Aviation and it was superlative. I was nearly dancing in my chair. My joy increased when I saw they Brander, one of my favorite Californian Sauvignon Blancs, by the glass. And to top it all off, the Pierpont Salad (Smoked Chicken, Romaine, Crispy Pancetta, White Beans, Sweet Tomatoes, Vermont Cheddar, Mustard Vinaigrette) was fantastic.

So, if you're on Madison and thirsty, go. The Morgan is a sanctum of civility.

Prosecco Raboso, Yeah!

It was a cocktail summer this year. As the warm weeks passed, my interest in wines seemed to fade a bit as I mixed new cocktail after new cocktail most every evening. I blame the fervent advocates at the "Tales of the Cocktail" convention for this. They sent me home with so many recipes and ideas. Their mania was contagious.

I had begun to wonder if wine would ever reclaim its former place at the top of my heart. But I shouldn't have worried. As Sept. 5's Frederick Wildman and Sons tasting at Avery Fisher Hall showed, all I needed was one good dive into a sea of great grape to revive my taste buds.

I sipped plenty of wonderful Brunellos, Riesling and Austrian and German wines while there (having only a couple hours to spend, I sort of cherry picked, zoning in on my favorites) and got to meet a scion of the great Austrian Stadlmann wine family, makers of superior Zierfandler and Rotgipfler. I had him all to myself. My fellow sippers did not seem to know what they were missing. And a couple tables were laden with liquid gold, all from Germany. Rieslings from Dr. H. Thanisch, Dr. Fischer, Studert Pruem, Anheuser, Langwerth von Simmern, Franz Karl Schmitt, Seebrich and Graf van Schoenborn. Out of a dozen and a half bottles, I didn't taste one bad brew. The Fischer "Classic" was particularly dry and bracing. And Thanisch, always downgrading Spatlese and Auslese grapes to make their Kabinetts and Spatleses more succulent, can do not wrong. Beautiful stuff.

But perhaps the find of the day came at the end, at the Astoria Vini table. A Prosecco rose, if you can believe it. This is new this year, and, as far as the rep from the table knew, it was the only one of the market. (That will likely change in 2008.) The native grape Raboso ("It's not good for much by itself") is used to give the Prosecco its pink tone and cherry bite. It's as refreshing as hell, and I cursed my luck that I had found the potion at the very end of summer. It's made for the season.

An Apology, and An Explanation

I've been a bit missing-in-action the past two weeks. I apologize to what few steady readers I have who were frustrated at seeing the same damn item I posted back on Aug. 17 day after day after tedious day.

I have excuses ready. I had a guest-blogging gig at a fairly big website the week of Aug. 20-24 that ran me ragged (can't say which, since I worked under a pseudonym, for reasons I am going to be mysterious about). And last week I was attending a three-day, intensive seminar on Sake—a beverage of which I was largely, but am no longer, ignorant. More on that in a later post. So, I'm alive, and will try to post most regularly now that fall is here and wine and spirits are increasingly need to keep the winter chill off.

"A Good Shabbat Wine"

That's what my wife crowned the 2005 Psagot Edom red table wine the other night after we had enjoyed a few glasses. Having been to a number of Shabbat meals, and knowing what is usually poured there, I had to agree.

Finding a good kosher wine that stands up as simply a good wine, period, is always a challenge (though not as hard now as it's been in the past). So I always sit up straight when I stumble across one. Bordeaux blends are a dime a dozen in the kosher world, and most are unimpressive, either too fruity or too raw. But this Psagot, which is 75% Cab Sauv and 25% Merlot, is representative of what should be commonplace in this category.

It's medium-bodied at 13.5% alcohol, and has all the usual notes of stewed dark fruit and spice, but all expressed evenly and well. The tannins are sturdy but tempered. It's aged in American and French oak for 14 months, so the vanilla is there, but it's well-integrated and doesn't overpower. The bottle is simply well-balanced in every way.

At $30, it's pricy for a kosher. But worth it, I'd say, for the coming High Holy Days.

Bad Day for Connousuers of Drink

Two titans of specialty imbibing died this past week: Michael Jackson and Alfred Peet. Jackson almost single-handedly ushered in a new appreciation for well-crafted beers in the 1970s, when every was content ignorantly gulping down insipid pilsner. And Peet's obsession with fine coffee began American's love affair with artisinal brew.

(These guys were not wine and spirits expects, I know, but to my mind they were fighting the same fight and contributed greatly to the refined drinking tastes now in evidence in the 50 states.)

Jackson died Aug. 30 in London. During his career, he turned the world on to Belgian's luscious beers and inspired hundreds of microbrewers. Every brew pub you see is part of his legacy.

Peet lent him name to Peet's Coffee, the famed shop he started in Berkeley in the late '60s, around the time Alice Waters was started Chez Panisse. He refused to accept the vile swill Americans then drank as being coffee. He knew all about beans, roasting, brewing, everything, and introduced as many people as he could to his idea of java, including the founders of Starbuck's, who basically stole his ideas and ran with them. Peet's would expand into a chain, too, but never at the rate Starbuck's would.

We owe them both a lot.