Measure & Stir

A Craft Cocktail Blog for the Home Bartender that Focuses on Original Creations Drawn from Culinary Inspiration.

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Clarified Tomato with Shochu, Basil, Chocolate, Peppermint

Johan got a Spinzall from Booker and Dax, and we decided to revisit that old chestnut, the Bloody Mary. I’ve made bloody Maries in the past using a variety of tomatoes and flavor profiles, but it’s been quite a while. Partly that’s because, as I discovered, no one gets excited about savory cocktails. I’m doing this out of narcissism and my need for personal validation, so I mostly respond to my incentives in the market for your attention.



What makes a bloody Mary? I use this term as a catch-all for any savory drink with a tomato juice base. Is this fair? After all, there are many ways to use the tomato as a cocktail ingredient. Is every tomato sauce marinara? Indeed, is ketchup a form of marinara? is bolognese? What about tomato jam, tomato confit, salsa roja?

Obviously, our cocktail lexicon is lacking. The nomenclature is either foolishly over-specific or else uselessly broad. I think, if we are stuck with the language we have, this is a tomato sling.


Tomato juice does not taste very good, even when you use ripe, tail-end-of-autumn heirloom tomatoes. It is sweet, but not sweet enough, earthy, yes, but also too viscous. It has an umami note that makes it feel rich, but at the cost of being refreshing. You take a swig of tomato juice and “I want more of that” is precisely what you don’t think. “Ah, that quenched my thirst”, said no one, ever.

Among people who like tomato juice cocktails, they usually order them for breakfast, they mostly just want to snack on the pickles, and they probably don’t drink a lot of cocktails otherwise.

A big part of the problem with tomato juice is the texture. It’s fatiguing and satiating, dulling the appetite. A good mixed drink should excite the palate, preparing the imbiber for a meal. To fix this problem, we must alter the nature of the tomato juice itself. Pectinase is the answer.



There are many ways to clarify tomato juice. You could make a consommé. You could use agar agar and a cheesecloth. You could strain the juice through a coffee filter. You could, if you’re a little smarter, add pectinase and then strain the juice through a coffee filter.

If you have a spinzall, you could add pectinase, kieselsol, and chitosan, and run the juice through a centrifuge. In the past I have usually defaulted to the coffee filter method. It takes some planning, and it’s inappropriate for large volumes, but it works when you’re just making overengineered drinks for your frou frou blog.

My take is that anything you can do with a spinzall, you can make with other methods and a little more patience. The main advantage of the centrifuge is that it can process large volumes of liquid in relatively little time. If you’re clarifying juice for a dinner party, it might be worth it, but in the majority of cases, you will get comparable results with the coffee filter.


Now, let’s talk about the drink composition. Clarified juice becomes lighter in flavor as well as in color, but it retains its essential qualities. To complement the lighter flavor of the juice, I chose to use shochu instead of vodka for this drink. Shochu, despite its superficial similarities to vodka, has a lot of flavor. It tends to retain the qualities of the grain from which it was distilled.

Tomato juice has a pleasant acidity all on its own, so no further acid was needed. My goal for this drink was to cultivate a subtle flavor, best regarded slowly. A dash of simple syrup, a pinch of MSG, and a dash of chocolate bitters round out the flavor of the liquid, which I stirred.

Chocolate and tomato may seem like an unusual combo, but if you have ever enjoyed Chili or Molé, you are acquainted with the combination. A hint of sugar helps to bridge the savory tomato and the sweet chocolate. A pinch of MSG reinforces the savory qualities of the tomato.


The spinzall came with a manual, and in that manual was a recipe for herb-infused oil. I have been quite taken, lately, with the addition of aromatic oils to stirred drinks. A small oilslick floating on top of the drink can add dimensions of flavor and aroma that remain distinct from the aqueous liquid underneath. The ability to keep two liquids separate in the same cup opens a lot of possibilities for contrast and interplay.

It’s not a big stretch, considering that we often express citrus peels on top of our drinks already, to go from that to a more generous pour of an oil which is deliberately flavored. Some readers may have a negative reaction to the idea of drinking an oil, but in small quantities it is delicious, I assure you. It is much like drizzling a flavorful oil on top of a soup.

For my aromatic oil, I put mint leaves and basil leaves into a blender with sunflower oil, and then used the spinzall to separate the oil from the plant matter. The resulting oil was flavorful, but it took on too much of the chlorophyll “plant stem” flavor, and the aroma of the mint was lost. I brought it back by adding a few drops of peppermint essential oil, but it was kind of a kludge.

I think I would have preferred to make this oil using sous vide, and without macerating the green herbs.


Clarified Tomato with Shochu, Basil, Chocolate, Peppermint
1.5 oz shochu
1.5 oz clarified purple cherokee tomato juice
.25 oz simple syrup
1 dash Bitter Truth Theo Chocolate bitters
1 pinch of msg
stir, and garnish with peppermint and basil infused oil, and a mint leaf.

Basil and tomato, chocolate and tomato, chocolate and peppermint. These are the flavor affinities I was trying to exploit. Basil and mint are perhaps not the best compliments to each other, but they did layer nicely in this drink. I think the pepper mint was a bit tacked on, and if I could have, I would have emphasized the basil more, the peppermint less.

Somewhere in here, there is also a chocolate and peppermint oil drink, trying to escape.


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La Diabla: Tequila, Black Currant Cocktail

I wrote about this style of drink in my Mixology Crash Course, in which I discuss the use of whole fresh fruits. Indeed, there are bloggers who have built their entire oeuvre on this one drink formula. And why not? Drinks in this format are delicious, unchallenging, and appealing to almost everyone. The key is to use fresh, high quality seasonal produce.

Your local Safeway/Albertsons/Vons sells garbage-tier produce that’s been designed and bred for appearance and durability at the expense of flavor. If I may step on a soap box for a second, it’s garbage-in, garbage-out, and the berries, stone fruits, etc., at most supermarkets are bland and awful. Farmer’s markets and grocers that stock foods from local farms are integral to the success of fruit-based drinks.

The greatest chef in the world will struggle to make a good sauce, if constrained to mediocre industrial produce. A perfectly ripe peach, picked at the height of its season, needs no adornment to be a match for the finest meal from a 3-starred Michelin restaurant.


La Diabla
2 oz reposado Tequila
A handful of black currants
.5 oz simple syrup
.5 oz fresh lime juice
1 dash of Absinthe
Muddle the currants, shake it all over ice, and then pour over crushed ice into a large glass. Garnish with red or black currants.

The astute observer will recognize this as a twist on the classic El Diablo, though I have rendered it according to my own taste. I have omitted the ginger beer, and replaced it with a dash of absinthe, to serve as the herbal element. Anise and fennel are a natural complement to black currant, and this substitution exploits the combination.

Ginger beer is a bully that crowds out everything else in the glass, which is why it is ideally suited to the Moscow Mule, and why its presence in the original El Diablo is suboptimal.

Instead of creme de cassis, I used fresh black currants, which yield both lovely pink color and a sweet earthy flavor that pairs beautifully with vegetal, smokey tequila. I found that I had to make several.


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Postmodernist Cuisine: Galaxy Cocktail, Mermaid Cocktail Best Hot Instagram Trends Rainbow Food Spirulina Charcoal Healthy Superfood


The hot new thing, I’m told, is Instagram, and I have been spelunking this Cthonic hellscape so that you, my readers, can spare your delicate sensibilities. Instagram food becomes a genre unto itself, because it propagates under different constraints from actual food. In meat space, food trends are driven by deliciousness, availability, and ease of reproduction, but on Instagram, they are subject only to selective pressures along the axes of color and photo composition.

In short, the idiosyncrasies of the platform establish the norms for the content it supports. As bored white collar workers on your commute, I know that you are hungry for pictures of neon pizza milkshakes, and as a social media mogul, you know that I am hungry for attention, which I quantify in likes and pageviews. Note that neither of these things will sustain us.


Photo Credit: Heston Blumenthal after he stayed up all night reading Jean Baudrillard.

I have about four seconds to grab your attention as you scroll through your feed, and in those four seconds, I have to entice you with slightly more than half a square inch of glowing pixels. You’re not going to click on something brown. Consider the garish monstrosity above, a classic example of what Instagram does to food. Does this actually look appetizing to you in any way?

Close your eyes and imagine you just got home from your job browsing facebook, fully two hours from the last time you ate an industrial simulacrum of a muffin, and you come home to this visual tour de force, poly-scintillant dye leaking mineral hues into the bread, the cheese stringy and dry from being overcooked, the bread somehow under-toasted at the same time.

Does it get your gastric juices flowing? Ah but I intuit that many of you are trying to double tap your screens.


We are all, by now, aware of the treachery of images, We know that the rainbow sandwich above, is not a sandwich in fact, but merely a picture of a sandwich. However, I claim that it is not even a picture of a sandwich, it is a picture of a dramatic portrayal of a sandwich. Regarding the subject of the photo above, there was no point in its lifecycle in which it was intended for human consumption.

That “sandwich” might be edible, but it does not constitute food. You already know this, too, because it never even occurred to you to ask: what does it taste like?


Top Instagram influencers focus test the next iteration of Soylent

I, culinary chromonaut that I am, have prepared and eaten technicolor foods, and I assure you that they all taste the same, i.e., like nothing. You may be thinking, “It’s a grilled cheese, it tastes like a grilled cheese, I didn’t wonder because I know.” You are mistaken. For various psychogustatory (term of art) reasons, it is a flavor void.

If you put red food coloring in Chardonnay, even wine experts will tell you it’s Pinot Noir. We think orange juice dyed green tastes like limeade, and we think coffee in a white mug tastes sweeter than coffee in a blue one. Long time readers of measure and stir may remember this eldritch horror. I served three completely different drinks, all colored with squid ink, and my guests could not tell the difference between them.

I’m told this is largely determined by expectation and cultural conditioning. I have no doubt that if you had been raised in a society that always only served green orange juice, and orange lime juice, your predictions and experience would be reversed. Ultimately, the source of our gastro-optical predictions does not change that we have them.

Social constructs exist because they are useful, and the fact that a norm is socially constructed in no way necessitates its malleability. Long before food dyes were used to enhance the colors of agricultural products, farmers practiced the venerable art of plant husbandry, and you can be sure that they chose to breed those plants which bore the most visually appealing fruits.


Adulterating foods to make them prettier is nothing new. French patisseries used to color their blancmange with arsenic and 16th century Germans would literally burn you alive for using yellow colorants to move counterfeit saffron.

What, intrepid reader, would they make of mermaid toast?


Vibrance Slider -> All the Way Right

I harbor no contempt for Ms. Waugh. Her creations are beautiful and she well deserves any fame, accolades, and liquor endorsement contracts she has accrued. With a couple of mini cookie cutters and a jar of Blue Majik, you, too, could hop on these hot Instagram trends. 1000 likes, here I come!

Unlike the rainbow grilled cheese, mermaid toast has no illusions. It’s toast and cream cheese and gold flakes. As with the grilled cheese, you could, technically, eat it, but then you could technically eat an airplane. Blue Majik contains twenty-two times as much iron as spinach, but your typical airplane contains one hundred metric tons. And it flies!

Tired: Blue spirulina is the new healthy superfood.
Wired: Cessna-150s are the new healthy superfood.

Many uninitiated plebs are shocked to learn that the color of their precious Campari comes from crushed up Cochineal bugs, but yes, food dyes come from surprising places. At least we stopped using red lead. Blue Majik’s marketing team claims that it is 64% protein, and that this fact, along with its nutrient density and anti-oxidant content makes it desirable. 64% protein times a 1 gram dose is, in fact, 640 mg of protein. It’s a substantial meal for a Cochineal bug, but we humans have much greater caloric needs. The health benefits of anti-oxidants are also wildly overstated.

Twenty-two times as much Iron as spinach! so maybe, uh… .05 mg in a typical dose. You’d be much better off with some Flintstones gummies, though I admit they don’t photograph well. The perennial popularity of Campari is due to its appealing red hue, and the viral success of Blue Majik is mostly due to its vibrant color. How do you sell useless “chemical” food additives to people who are aspirationally into food purity? Academic.

It costs $4 for a 4oz bottle of blue gel dye, $65 for 50g of a proprietary spirulina blend. But who cares how much it costs, it’s all about that hashtag #healthyfood. If you’re the sort of person who eats photographs smoothie bowls, you’re going to buy Blue Majik for the same reason I’m holding ethereum: #fomo.

Rainbow food isn’t real food, crypto-currency isn’t real money, and blue majik’s dubious health claims are an accent mark to its success.


Perhaps nothing exemplifies the ascendance of rainbow food more perfectly than Starbucks’ recent Unicorn Frappuccino. I promise, they did not achieve this color with blue spirulina and beet powder, and no one cares.


Photo Credit:Jacques Le Merde after she got stuck in an elevator with Matt Perger

This creation was vomited from forth from the collective unconscious of Instagram, which reached out with its glowing prismatic tendril into the minds of Starbucks’ marketing department, and used them as an avatar for its x-pro filtered thoughts.

“That looks delicious, I want one,” thought no one, ever. But one of the joys of logic is that the antecedent can be true regardless of the validity of the consequent. All marketing is about selling symbols. The signified is dead, the signifier is the only thing that matters, as reddit will attest.

No one expects symbols to point to real world objects. That kind of alignment has been gone for decades, but it took mass participatory media before we could find that consciousness in the average person. Artists and authors have known about the signifier/signified divorce since the 1950s, and their works have diffused into our culture, but the Instagram filter is the apotheosis of postmodern awareness.

We’ve been coloring our foods for much longer than we’ve been photographing them, but in the past it was always about enhancement; a greener pickle, a redder steak, a yellower saffron. The goal was to bring the manifestation of a symbol into closer alignment with its idealized form.

Rainbow food stems from an altogether different animus, from a desire to sever any link between ideal and instantiation.


Given all that, I wanted in. Whereas my mixological journey started as a quest for flavor and technique, it ended (or perhaps plateaued?) with the realization that narrative (set and setting) is the ultimate arbiter of taste and enjoyment. Aesthetic preferences are mostly fashion, loosely constrained by biology. As one wag put it, “I am not of the opinion that food has to taste good in order to be good.”


Photo Credit: Johan Moe

Mermaid Cocktail
6 oz coconut cream
1 g blue gel dye or Blue Majik or whatever
In a blender, combine ice and coconut cream. Reserve half.
Add the blue dye, and blend up the rest.
In a hurricane glass, layer the blue and white slush, and then give it one small stir.
Top it with a black coral tuile* and a pink straw.
Do not drink.

*Tastes like nothing, made by frying oily flour in more oil.

This cynical recipe is not exactly the truth. The truth is I used some rosé and simple syrup and tried to make something kind of refreshing. I actually did try blue spirulina (though not blue majik) before giving up and using gel dye. The taste was fine, but it was also incidental to the recipe. Anything that won’t spoil the color is fine.

Another popular Instagram color scheme is “Galaxy”. This consists of black, blue, white, and sometimes, purple. I did not use any purple, but I had some beet powder out in my work space, just in case.


Photo Credit: Johan Moe

Galaxy Cocktail
2 oz good amaro (or not)
2 oz white rum (or not)
1 oz lemon juice (or not)
1 oz orange juice (or not)
1 oz coffee liqueur (or not)
.5 oz simple syrup (or not)
3 oz coconut cream
1 g blue gel dye
1 tsp activated charcoal
a small dish of heavy cream
Blend half the coconut cream, rum, lemon, sugar, and blue dye together in a blender, and reserve in the freezer.
Blend the other half of the coconut cream, charcoal, amaro, and coffee liqueur.
Carefully layer in an oversize coupe glass and garnish by flicking little dabs of heavy cream on top.
Drink (or not). It tastes like sound and fury, signifying nothing.

In fact I did try with the second one (did I?) but it just didn’t matter. Nothing could punch through the overwhelming void of black and blue ice.


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Black Yukon Suckerpunch

With the long-awaited return of Twin Peaks imminent, I decided to hop on that sweet pop culture traffic. I never actually watched the original show, but I did some homework, and I learned that David Lynch liked to be extremely detailed in his world-building. Even though no recipe for the drink was ever given, the mise en scène suggests that the drink might contain black coffee, bourbon, blue curaçao, and sparkling mineral water, and that a blender may be involved.

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Of course, detailed world-building only goes so far. In the end, it’s a TV show, and they probably weren’t afraid to bend the rules a bit to get the look that they wanted in the drink. You hear the blender in the scene, so it seems likely that the bartender blended egg whites and blue curaçao into an blue foam, and then spooned it on top of an irish coffee consisting of jack, simple syrup, and black coffee. Possibly it was topped with Perrier.

The blogger that taught me all this thought the Perrier went in the blender, and at first brush, that does not make much sense. A blender is going to shake all the gas out of the Perrier, but it will add a slight bit of acid from the carbonation. The formula for an egg white foam is egg white, sugar, water, and acid, usually lemon juice. This probably worked for him, but how does that help me?

Another blogger also took a stab at the drink recently, but I’m more inclined to call his a Brown Yukon Sucker Punch, because of the light color. The problem is that he used a crafty third wave coffee, and these modern light roasts, as much as I like to drink them, brew to a chocolatey light brown. In 1991, the coffee was roasted practically to ashes, and that’s the only way to get the color right without dye.

Personally, I’ll stick to my Ethiopian Kochere. If you’re squeamish about food coloring, 1. Use food grade activated charcoal powder and 2. Get over it, you ingest commercial food dyes all the time, probably without realizing it, unless you are Amish.

I also don’t care for the whipped cream meringue. It’s too white and too solid. Who wants to drink that creamy gloopy monstrosity?

Anyway, if you want the classic, stick with Jamesoart. His technique is accessible and probably the truest to the show. My version uses a modernist technique à la Jamie Boudreau. This is how to make the Black Yukon Suckerpunch in the 21st century.

WhatsApp Image 2017-05-21 at 6.28.08 PM

21st Century Black Yukon Suckerpunch
1.5 oz Bourbon
.5 oz Coffee liqueur
1 oz brewed black coffee
As much black food color as it takes (like 3 drops)
Blue Cocktail Foam
4 egg whites
6 oz blue curaçao
3 oz lemon juice
2 oz water
Combine all foam ingredients in an iSi whipping siphon and charge with two N02 cartridges.
Stir the bourbon, liqueur, and coffee over ice, and pour into a highball. Top with the blue cocktail foam.

Getting the texture of a cocktail foam just right is always a challenge. The ratio of sugar, water, lemon juice, and egg white has to be just right to get a foam that is stable and springy. To be honest, it takes a little luck, and I have found some variability in the stability of this foam recipe. If your foam is falling apart, try replacing some or all of the water with simple syrup.



Enchanted Valentine’s: Beauty and the Beast Cocktail with Rose, Bourbon, Pomegranate

Who told you that you might gather my roses? Was it not enough that I allowed you to be in my palace and was kind to you? This is how you show your gratitude, by stealing my flowers? But your insolence shall not go unpunished!

The merchant, terrified by these furious words, dropped the fatal rose, and, throwing himself on his knees, cried: “Pardon me, noble sir. I am truly grateful to you for your hospitality, which was so magnificent that I could not imagine that you would be offended by my taking such a little thing as a rose.


We finished our Enchanted Valentine’s Day with a cream puff and a cocktail centered around roses, and inspired by Beauty and the Beast by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve. As before, Johan describes his half of the project in excruciating detail.

Despite the French setting of the story, the flavor of rose is most at home amongst Levantine flavors, and without any particular intention, we found ourselves pairing it with arak, pistachio, and pomegranate, as well as white chocolate and bourbon. We had a few false starts with this dish, but ultimately we landed in a place that made me feel proud.

At one point I tried smoking the drink by burning rose petals, but it made the drink smell like cigarettes and cheap perfume. Beautiful cloche or no, I cannot suggest rose petal smoke in any capacity.


To keep things sweet, and to announce our desserty intentions, I used a vanilla-infused bourbon as the base of this drink, and paired it with a rose shrub, a rinse of arak, and a bit of pomegranate juice. The rose shrub was perfect in this drink, and to be honest I made it as much for the pun value as for the flavor. I’ve used rose syrup before, but to develop the  complexity of the rose, I chose to extract the flavor of fresh rose petals into white vinegar.

Don’t get fancy with the vinegar when you’re making something like this. Apple cider or champagne vinegar would muddy this up too much. To get a clean flavor, I used distilled white vinegar as my base.

Rose Shrub
170g of sugar
150 ml of white vinegar
All of the petals from 6 red roses
In a large bowl, toss all the petals in the sugar to coat them, and let them sit, covered, for half a day. Add the vinegar and stir. Allow the shrub to sit covered, at room temperature, for 2-3 more days.

For the garnish, I bought some wires for arranging flowers, and wired a whole fresh rose around the stem of a coup glass. My roses weren’t very fragrant, so I sprayed them with a little bit of rose-flower water before serving. It’s easy to overdo it with rose flower water, so be careful.


Be So Kind as to Bring Me a Rose
1.5 oz Vanilla-Infused Bourbon
.5 oz Rose Shrub
.25 oz Pomegranate Juice
1/2 tsp of Arak
Stir over ice, strain, and serve in a coupe with a rose wired around it. Intimidate your guests with your gruff presence and threatening demeanor.

At this point I have used vanilla-infused bourbon in so many drinks that I’m not going to bother to talk about it. Drop a vanilla bean in a bottle of bourbon. Wait about three days. There is no need to ever remove the vanilla bean. If the vanilla gets too strong, blend the vanilla bourbon with un-infused bourbon at mixing-time.

I never thought mixology would take me to flower arranging, but here I am.

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Enchanted Valentine’s: Snow White Forest Tonic with Hendrick’s Gin, Apple, Green Herbs, and Fernet Branca

The evil queen was a beautiful woman, but she was proud and arrogant, and she could not stand it if anyone might surpass her in beauty. She had a magic mirror. Every morning she stood before it, looked at her plate, and said:

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who makes the tastiest dessert of all?

Continuing the Valentine’s day feast, Johan and I decided to serve a dessert-loaded menu. Our second course was inspired by Snow White by the Brothers Grimm. For this fairy tale, we served “The Other Half of the Poison Apple”, and as before, Johan describes it in excruciating detail at Moedernkitchen.


As long as long as the queen was not the most beautiful woman in the entire land, her envy would give her no rest. She made a poisoned apple, and from the outside it was beautiful; white with red cheeks, and anyone who saw it would want it. But anyone who might eat a little piece of it would die.

“Are you afraid of poison?” asked the old woman. “Look, I’ll cut the apple in two. You eat the red half, and I shall eat the white half.”

Now the apple had been so artfully made that only the red half was poisoned. Snow-White longed for the beautiful apple; she barely had a bite in her mouth when she fell to the ground dead.


As you can see, we got experimental with this one. In addition to the drink and the frozen apple, we served an aromatic fog made with eucalyptus and spruce oil. With the fog and the drink, my intention was to create a sense of being lost in an enchanted forest.

For the fog, we filled a glass vessel with crushed dry ice, and then at service time, poured in a mixture of near-boiling water and essential oils. Be sure to use tempered glass for this, or it can break the vessel. If the water is not hot, the vapor will be disappointing.

The sensation of sitting down to a drink, and feeling the sudden rush of cold vapor flowing over the table, and the sharp scent of eucalyptus opening the sinuses


For the drink, I used Hendrick’s gin, fresh apple juice season with matcha and malic acid, and a syrup of blanched and blended green herbs.  I was aiming at a fresh green color, but as conceived, the drink ended up a little swampy. In person it was greener, swearsies. I had no deep, esoteric inspiration in this drink, just a pragmatic, bottom-up approach.

I knew I wanted to create the feeling of a forest, so I started with a gin base and layered in other green aromas and botanicals. In my mind, rosemary, sage, and shiso all taste “green”, but one could be forgiven for thinking of poultry spices. In the drink, this was not a concern, but on its own,  I did think of a roast chicken.

Green Herb Syrup
20g rosemary
20g sage
20g shiso
150 ml water
150 ml sugar
Blanch the herbs, then combine everything in a blender and blend on high until the mixture is smooth. Strain through a fine-mesh strainer.

You could substitute mint for shiso, but cooked mint easily goes to toothpaste. Exercise caution. If possible, I would suggest juicing fresh mint à la minute, instead of macerating it into a syrup.

For the sour apple juice, I pressed three granny smith apples in a masticating juicer, seasoned it with powdered malic acid and matcha powder according to my taste, and whipped the mixture using a whisk attachment on an immersion blender. There is no precise recipe here, it is simply a matter of taste. The sour apple juice is filling in for lemon in this gin sour, and it needs to balance the sweet green syrup. If I had to put a number on it, I would say:

Sour Matcha Apple Juice
150 ml Fresh Granny Smith Apple Juice
10g Matcha Powder
3g Powdered Malic Acid
Combine all using an electric whisk.


Lost in the Forest
1.25 oz Hendrick’s Gin
1 oz Sour Matcha Apple Juice
.5 oz Green Herb Syrup*
Shake over ice and double strain into an old-fashioned glass.
Float .25 oz of Fernet Branca.
Garnish with a rosemary sprig clipped to the side of the glass.

The float of Fernet Branca is mostly for aroma, but it gives the first few sips a bitter, bracing quality as well as a deep menthol aroma. The forest is dark and beguiling.

As you may notice, it is the year of the tiny clothespin. This cocktail garnish innovation is a real game-changer. Many aromatic ingredients are repellant if dropped into a drink,  but they can be beautiful and fragrant if held slightly aloft. Do yourself a favor.



Enchanted Valentine’s: Little Mermaid Cocktail with Wakame-infused Aquavit, Lemon, and Champagne

She saw the bright sun, and all around her floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see through them the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs, and that she continues to rise higher and higher out of the foam.


Once again, and to celebrate Valentine’s Day, Johan and I have teamed up to create a course of three food and cocktail pairings, this time inspired by classic fairy tales. Our first dish was a surf and turf inspired by The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen. Johan describes it in excruciating detail at Moedernkitchen.

I chose to pair the dish with a drink made from champagne and wakame-infused aquavit. Pairing mixed drinks with food is much more difficult than serving the drink on its own; cocktails contain strong spirits, and they easily overpower food. The best strategy is to keep the drink lighter than the food, and to echo at least one of its flavors.


To approach the seafood in this dish, I used a trident approach: first, citrus and champagne, which we naturally pair with crab, octopus, salmon, or oyster. Second, aquavit, to remember the bread crumbs in the “sand”, and to evoke a Norwegian feeling. Third, seaweed, for its brine and its bitterness.

I tried, many moons ago, to infuse seaweed into a tincture, but I was inexperienced, and my cocktail tasted like the inside of an aquarium. Nori was the wrong choice. This time I selected wakame, and infused 200ml of aquavit with a scant teaspoon of dried wakame for five hours. It took on a pale green color, and developed a thalassic minerality.

Many people over-steep their infusions. You don’t throw teabags into a pot of water and leave it for hours. You don’t let your coffee sit in a french press for a month and brag about how long you spent infusing it. So why do are you so proud of your over-infused spirits? The flavor of an infusion should be balanced and subtle, and when you make an infusion, you should take an active role in the process. Taste it frequently, and find the optimal rate of extraction.


At its core, this drink is a French 75, but then again, almost every drink has a classic for its heart. That’s not because of some sacred or innate property of the classic drinks, it is merely that the classics have been selected and honed over time to form a basis in the space of possible ethanol-sugar-water recipes. For reference:

French 75
1.5 oz Gin
.75 oz Lemon Juice
.5 oz Simple Syrup
2-3 oz Champagne

The other notable addition to this drink is dashi air, which I make by bringing a pot of water with a 2×2″ square of konbu and 50g of shaved bonito flakes to a boil in 200ml of water, killing the heat, and steeping for ten minutes before straining. If this sounds like cutting corners, it is, but I assure you my washoku game is on strong. Prior to boiling, I added 50 ml of mirin. I added it early, because I wanted the alcohol to boil off.

Finally, using an immersion blender, I integrated 5 g of sucrose ester (also called Texturas Sucro), which produces an airy foam. After pouring the drink into the glass, I carefully spooned the foam on top.


Out of the Fathomless Deep
1 oz Wakame-infused Aquavit
.75 oz Fresh Lemon Juice
.5 oz Simple Syrup
Shake over ice and double-strain into a wine glass
Top with 2 oz Champagne and Mirin-Dashi Air

Garnish with a dried orange wheel clipped to the side of the glass.

Regarding the garnish, I sliced some orange wheels and dried them in a dehydrator until they were crunchy. Be careful not to get your orange wheel wet when you’re garnishing the drink, or it will get soggy. If you’re like me, your orange wheels will lose most of their aroma when you dry them. Since garniture is about olfactics as much as optics, I sprayed my dehydrated orange wheels with orange essential oil right before serving.

Since we used the same dashi air on the plate and in the glass, the flavors tracked each other closely.