Sad, Sad News

This e-mail, sent out by LeNell Smothers, owners of the great Red Hook liquor store, was recently reprinted on Eater.com. Read it and weep.

Our lease is officially up this month. I know it will take months for a formal eviction should it come to that. Sad to say that the space that we had a draft lease for fell through this week. It was for the vacant lot across the street next to the Good Fork. This lot is co-owned by Jimmy Buscariello and Greg O'Connell (who owns quite a bit of Red Hook including the Fairway building). We had architectural drawings, had agreed on basic lease points, and I've been thinking all along that we were just finalizing details...

The space included the store on the first floor and the bar on the second. After discussing this project for nearly a year now, I get a visit from Greg recently telling me that he has just realized constructions costs will be more than he wants to pay. He won't entertain thoughts of my partnering in building out the space. Just flat out pulled out at the last moment...which happens to be a few days before the end of my current lease. I'm in shock. I really thought this deal was practically done when Greg had me pay an attorney to draft a lease. Rarely is LeNell speechless. I am.

The other space we thought was workable in Red Hook, turns out to be a dud, as well. The owner has been telling everyone that we are moving into the space. Months ago I asked him for lease points and told him that I could not agree to anything less than a 10 year lease. Today out of nowhere, he tells me that he only wants to sign a five year lease. I won't do it. It's just not good business sense at this point. I refuse to keep working to pay someone else's mortgage while I barely pay myself and have no hope for me and my hardworking staff to get ahead.

So folks, I just don't know the future. I had really hoped to announce that we had a lease signed for this lot across the street and was so eager to break the news to you. I'm really just in shock. Storefronts in Red Hook sit vacant, vacant lots side idle, landlords daydream, and proven businesses like mine get put through hell. A boss of mine told me years ago, "If you can survive in New York, you can survive anywhere." Well, I think I've proved myself long enough. Maybe it's time to head back South. Own a real home, eat real bar b que, and have a life. LeNell is broken.

When you come in and I'm dazed, bitchy beyond normal, on the phone like a lunatic, please don't take it personally. Everything I've worked so hard for is hanging in the gallows."

Hard to know what to say. I've depended on LeNell's for some many hard-to-get bottles over the years. When no one else has it, they do. If I had the money and the real estate, I would call LeNell right now. Alas.

Monkey on Top

Another drink I'm regularly obsessed with is the Monkey Gland, a Jazz Age concoction of gin, orange juice, grenadine and absinthe. I make these at home all the time. So much are they part of my cocktail mindset that, recent, when called upon the scholars at the Beverage Alcohol Resource to create a new cocktail, I used the Monkey Gland as my template and came up with something called the Star Monkey (star anise was involved).

Still, I realize the cocktail is still pretty obscure. Or is it? I went to Danny Meyer's Eleven Madison Park the other day and what did I see in the very top spot of the cocktail menu? Yes, the Monkey Gland, in all its glory. That place is hence one cool joint, in my opinion.

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.

An Episode With Cynar

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

The Kabinetts of Dr. Riesling

I went to the Wines of Germany 2008 tasting last week ("Riesling & Co. World Tour 2008"!) This event never seems to include the stars of Deutschland, aside from the wonderful, dependable Dr. H. Thanisch. Just lesser-known strivers, mainly. (One of my favorites from last year, Balthasar Ress of Rheingau, was missing this time around.)

But the gathering serves as a decent yardstick of what to expect from the coming vintage. Everyone I questioned seemed happy with the 2007 vintage, saying the weather had been good all through. The man monitoring the Leitz table said that many of the Spatlese and Auslese grapes had in 2007 been declassified and were fed into the vintage's Kabinetts, making them fuller and richer and, according to him, more representative of the Kabinett style of Riesling. He also said this was done in part to counter of glut of Ausleses and Spatleses on the market.

Indeed, the Leitz Kabinetts did seem to have more to offer than I am used to in these wines. The stars of the wines I tasted, however, was the entire line-up at Marcus Moliter, a Mosel winery that is unique in Germany in that it goes for natural fermentation. Only naturally occurring yeasts are used. The wine is filtered, but not fined. The grapes are picked late and left on the lees for months.

The results are hard to argue with. The 2007 Bernkasteler Backstude Kabinett was refreshingly tart and metallic. The 2007 Wehlener Sonnenuhr Kabinett, from slate soil, spoke distinctly of apricot and honey, and the 2006 Auslese from the Zeltinger Sonnenuhr was simply beautiful.

Robert Mondavi Dies

Robert Mondavi, the father of the modern California wine industry, died Friday at the age of 94 after an impossibly long and productive life. I'm reading "The House of Mondavi" right now, and through that narrative one is as astounded by this great man's many personal missteps as by his achievements, and by the striking elements of Greek tragedy to be found in his story. Still, his achievements were monumental and there's no denying that the wine world would be a very different place without him.

Here's the Times obit, which ought to be twice as long as it is.

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.