On Friday night Tipsy and I divided and conquered so that he could attend a happy hour with his coworkers at Hickory Street, and so that I could do the same with one of my former UT professors at the Dog and Duck. When prompted to describe his Hickory Street experience, Tipsy confessed that he had "a beer. The bar is basically nonexistent." I found this to be a pretty depressing confession. There was a story in the paper a few months ago reporting that the new owner of Hickory St had managed to purchase the original bar from the Driskill Hotel. The story was short on detail, so I don't know exactly how he managed to find such a treasure. Regardless, I was thrilled to find out about it, because the Driskill is one of the great historical treasures of the city, and the only one that I can think of that is both a historical treasure AND an alcoholic beverage venue. So the thought of there being a bar fixture, that was once the sight of pre-Prohibition cocktail mixology, being restored to its former glory was very exciting to me. One night shortly after the article appeared we went in to the bar to check it out, but the bar looked unoccupied (not just devoid of patrons but also of staff) so we sat at a table. I thought that they just hadn't gotten it hooked up yet.
Tipsy's report from Friday night confirmed that no such restoration of glamour has transpired since our last outing there.
Later in the evening I was standing outside Lambert's waiting for a performance by Hunter Cross and the Strays, when I received this amusing voicemail from Tipsy:
"If Tony Abou-Ganim was dead, he would be rolling around in his grave. This is the Cable Car from the Brown Bar: Smirnoff vodka, orange curacao, fresh lemon juice, a splash of oj, and a cinnamon sugar rim. Mmm... fake cable car. They also have one called the Austinite--Crap."
It is a shame that so many bartenders in Austin lack the basic skill of looking up recipes. This so-called Cable Car is a particularly shameful example. The Cable Car was invented by and is the signature cocktail of Tony Abou-Ganim, who calls himself the Modern Mixologist. The recipe is such a tightly held secret that it is posted on Tony's own Web site. What makes it a Cable Car is the spiced rum--that's the drink. The person who made the Brown Bar's recipe not only doesn't know the recipe for a Cable Car, he or she doesn't understand the concept behind it. Abou-Ganim altered the base ingredient of the classic Sidecar, thus changing the drink's profile. But since it is a close variation of the classic, the name variation is a clever play with words. The cinnamon sugar rim reacts with the spiciness of the spiced rum; in this vodka drink such a presentation doesn't make sense.
Regarding the Austinite, anyone who saw the Statesman's XL-Ent coverage of the best summer cocktails in Austin will recognize the Austinite, which was the last one on the list and the only one that I vehemently disagreed with. The drink consists of 3 ounces of Tito's Vodka and four house-made olives. Good for them for making their olives, but bad for them for making this drink. If this drink is worthy of the name Austinite, ie truly reflective of our mixological values as a people, then we are a municipality of unimaginative alcoholics. And shame on the Statesman for falling for this cheesy marketing. If the drink wasn't called The Austinite, it would not have even been noticed, since it is a glass of cold vodka with some olives. And what is so refreshing about that? It seems more likely to knock out a summer sipper than to revive and restore one.
While I'm at it, I have a few more small details that I have to bitch about regarding the Statesman's summer cocktail guide...
Though I have yet to meet Patrick Beach, I am reasonably sure that I will like him. Beach is the beer writer for the Statesman, but is occasionally called upon to write about cocktails. From his intro to the guide:
"I, for instance, am rather a fundamentalist when it comes to martinis. If it's not gin or vodka, vermouth and olives or a twist, it's not a martini, and I don't care what the glass looks like. Fruit? Not a martini. Chocolate? Not a martini. Peppermint? Insert involuntary shudder here."
How can I not get along with a man who takes such a stand against inaccurately-suffixed "tinis" in Austin's mixologically conservative daily? I have only a few small observations to make regarding Mr. Beach's otherwise apt suggestions.
1) The "Classico Mojito" at Saba is made with what Beach calls "Matusalem Rum 8". Two things here. First, a mojito masquerading itself as "Classico" should not be made with an aged rum, but a silver one. In my opinion you can make a mojito with any rum you like, as I discussed in my article on the Watermelon Mojito, but then it is not what would generally be called "classic." And regarding the age of that rum...I believe that there is no Matusalem Rum 8. They make Rum 7. Bacardi makes Rum 8.
2) The Batini at the Four Seasons is referred to as the "official drink of Austin." I want to see some credentials for this drink. When was the vote? Who were the contenders?
First of all, I think Austin's official drink should not come from such an overrated place as the Four Seasons. This is the bar that everyone thinks of when they think of a swank or classic place, but I disagree. This is the bar that we sat at one time and the bartender neither knew the drink we ordered (The Martinez! A classic!) nor was willing to look it up. Therefor this cannot be the birthplace of Austin's official drink. Nor can Austin's official drink involve something as esoteric and seasonal as pureed blackberries. The official drink of Austin needs to be something that Austinites of average intelligence and reasonable curiosity can make at home or at their bar of choice, year-round. Most bars don't have blackberries, most home mixologists are not going to puree them, and that rules out the Batini as far as I am concerned. Furthermore, this drink is too WASPy to be our official drink, and completely ignores our long heritage as a margarita town.
3) Regarding the fabled Mexican Martini of the Cedar Door, Beach reminds readers that the mix can be taken home or picked up at local stores. I however would not recommend it--the Cedar Door variety packs an offensive citric acid punch that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Also, a sexy Mexican Martini is so easy to make at home from scratch that I wish our beverage journalists wouldn't confer their blessings on any of the take-home packages.
4) Lastly, Beach reviews the Longhorn Iced Tea at 219 West. He says that "the traditional drink is just too sweet; this libation is pleasantly tart" and would agree with him except that it doesn't always have to be this way. The reason why most Long Island or Texas Teas are overly sweet is because they are poorly made by lame Sixth St "bartenders" who don't know what the hell they are doing. (On the other end of the 6th St. spectrum is the panty-dropping glass of so much liquor that the drinks is almost clear and will virtually guarantee breathalyzer failure after a few sips.) I would like at this important juncture to invoke the great Dale DeGroff to impart some wisdom on the subject of the Long Island Iced Tea:
"When made properly, the drink tastes great and doesn't have to be an evening ender. The key is to have all the spirits present but in small amounts. In the recipe here, the total alcohol content is 2 1'2 ounces. It is a well-balanced, good-tasting drink, in large part because of the fresh lemon juice and simple syrup."
Long Island Iced Tea, the non-frat boy version
1/2 ounce vodka
1/2 ounce gin
1/2 ounce tequila
1/2 ounce rum
1/2 ounce Triple Sec
3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
1/2 ounce Simple Syrup
3-4 ounces Coca-Cola
Lemon wedge, for garnish
Shake all ingredients except the Coca-Cola with ice and strain into an iced tea or collins glass three-quarters filled with ice. Top with 3 or 4 ounces of Coca-Cola and stir. Garnish with the lemon wedge.
(Recipe from Dale DeGroff's The Craft of the Cocktail.)
