Belmont Cocktail

A recent cocktail book acquisition was the Mr. Boston Platinum Edition, at a Borders Outlet. It has the virtues and flaws of any Mr. Boston book; this is of course the classic mixed drinks bible, of which everyone owns a copy. It is hardly without flaw - the drinks appear with no commentary, in a strange mixture of old and new, good, bad and indifferent, with rather variable sizes. The book has evolved over many years; I had a copy for many years from the 70s.

I have lately been tempted to choose a book and march through it, making each cocktail in alphabetical order and blogging about it, complete with pictures. Some other bloggers do that - one is using the classic Savoy Cocktail Book for this purpose, and his blog is fun to read. I don't have that book yet, but I've made a couple of cocktails from his descriptions. But there are some practicalities to be mindful of. What about drinks for which one does not have ingredients? Do I skip them or substitute, or plan way ahead? The Savoy blogger obviously is able to afford some rather impressive brands, some of which I've never even heard of, much less seen on shelves in Michigan; and he lives in California, where he can readily obtain such items. Here in the People's Republic of Michigan, where our bureaucratic masters carefully control every bottle that enters the state and set its minimum price, this is an ongoing problem. Not ambitious cocktail lovers, our bureaucratic masters.

Ordering ingredients from out of state has multiple problems: expense in shipping; California distributors, who often have the widest varieties of items, won't ship to Michigan; and it's illegal to do it to begin with. (Almost certainly it's unconstitutional for the state to ban the practice after Granholm v. Heald, but I'm pretty sure the state will continue to attempt to ban private shipments until someone can afford to fight them to the Supreme Court for liquor as was done with wine. That would not be me.) So there are no easy options.

I was contemplating trying all the gin cocktails in Mr. Boston, but the ingredient problem was immediate: the second cocktail, the Adam and Eve, requires "Citrus-flavored brandy". I've never heard of such a thing, and certainly never seen it on the shelves. Can they possibly mean a brandy-based triple sec? It seems unlikely. And the fourth cocktail, the Alaska, calls for yellow Chartreuse. Chartreuse is alarmingly expensive, and Michigan doesn't seem to permit the stocking of less expensive 375 ml. bottles of the stuff. I have a precious fifth of green Chartreuse, and it seems to me that I've seen versions of the Alaska that call for green, so that might be solvable.

It's funny - I have a fairly well-stocked bar now, collected over a good many years and augmented by three separate inheritances or donations. I get the odd "You have Pernod?!" reaction from friends from time to time. But there are still a fair number of ingredients that present problems. I have other hobbies and am far from wealthy; I can't just buy anything that crops up in a recipe I'd idly like to try. (Thankfully, except for staples like gin and brandy and bourbon and scotch, the stuff doesn't get used too awfully fast.) And there are some things, like kola tonic or Amer Picon, for example, that are clearly going to be projects, not casual acquisitions. If I had those two items, I believe I would have made every recipe in the indispensible Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails by now. I think I've done everything else that's actually practical.

At any rate, I put off that project for now and instead just picked a gin cocktail from that chapter: the Belmont. Alas, it's fairly awful. You would guess lightly sweet and creamy from the ingredients, but no. The gin overpowers the drink. Not a good idea. I'll finish drinking it - I'm eyeing it uneasily as I write this, the cream separating from the gin as if unwilling to associate with it. But this would not be one to repeat. Bourbon or scotch on the rocks would have been quicker, easier, more satisfying and with less clean-up. On the other hand, one does not discover new and exciting alchemical concoctions when one sticks to pouring whisky over ice...

2 oz. gin [Gordons]
1 tsp. raspberry syrup
3/4 oz. light cream

Shake with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. (p. 55)

UPDATE: To illustrate what I meant about my disadvantageous position in Michigan regarding ingredients, look at this latest post from the Savoy blogger. The drink is simple enough: absinthe, sweet vermouth, dry vermouth and gin. But notice the ingredients. I couldn't buy a single one of them in Michigan. I could make this drink myself, with ease (and I think I may try it tomorrow night). But I couldn't use the brands he mentions with the best will in the world. Now, I don't mean to whine - there are other interesting brands here. It just annoys me to have limited options.

Legion of Super-Heroes Fan

Now this gentleman is a serious Legion-fan. I'm a mere dilettante in comparison; likely because I have too many other hobbies and interests and sub-interests to get this serious about all the books and cards and posters and figures. And his blog is enjoyable, too. If you scroll down, photos of his collection, which makes me envious.

Ramos Gin Fizz

This is a delightful drink. Eric Felten recently wrote that it was a favorite of Frank Sinatra, recommended by Robert Mitchum:

Actor Robert Mitchum introduced Sinatra to the morning glories of the Ramos Gin Fizz, which Mitchum had praised as "mother's milk." Sinatra would order the gin, cream, egg, lime, sugar and soda mixes by the trayful after a night of flying the Jack Daniel's flag. He remained grateful to Mitchum for the recommendation, sending him a card every Mother's Day.

Pardon the lack of a link - I think a subscription is necessary. The quote appeared in the December 27, 2008 edition of the Wall St. Journal.

I made one about a year ago, and it didn't come out right. I'm not sure which recipe I was using. But the proportions provided by Robert Hess in The Essential Bartender's Guide are very seemly, and I can enthusiastically recommend this version:

2 oz gin
1 oz cream
1 whole egg white
1/2 oz lemon juice
1/2 oz. lime juice
1 1/2 oz. simple syrup
2 dashes orange flower water
1 oz. club soda

You must combine all ingredients in a shaker, minus the club soda, and with no ice, and give it what is called a "dry shake". This emulsifies the egg white with the other ingredients. Legend has it that Myer's Restaurant in New Orleans, where Henry C. Ramos invented the drink, insisted on twelve minutes of shaking at this stage. Somehow I doubt that's really necessary, but you should shake it very hard for quite a while. Then add the ice and give it a conventional shake. Then strain it into a Collins glass, and add some fresh ice cubes if you like - opinions differ on that. Finally, add the club soda, stir and enjoy. Oh, and I suspect you could drop the simple syrup a little bit and get away with it. Maybe an ounce would be enough.

I never drink enough to get hangovers, so I've never used it as a morning remedy. I mean, really. I work for a living, you know. How much does one have to drink to get in such a state that cocktails in the morning sound like a good idea? If you need the hair of the dog that bit you, my advice is, don't let the dog bite you so hard.

Oh, and gentle reader, I hear your objection. Balian, you say, what do you mean by putting a raw egg in a drink? Are you trying to kill me with salmonella or some other dread thing? My advice? Cowboy up, there, pal. When is the last time you heard of someone dropping over dead from eating their eggs with runny yolks? For Pete's sake. One in about 12,000 eggs has salmonella. Your odds are good. Just use fresh eggs from a reputable source. And sue if you get sick! I can recommend a good lawyer, just let me know.

James Swett, RIP

James E. Swett of Redding, California died on January 18, age 89. You probably didn't hear about it; I only read about it today.

My question, for this blog on popular culture, is why didn't his death get mentioned on the network news, or a respectable headline in major papers? Why would only a very tiny number of schoolchildren know who he was, and probably even fewer teachers think he was someone whose example would be interesting to their students?

On April 7, 1943, Swett was a fighter pilot flying a Wildcat near Guadalcanal. A 150+ formation of Japanese dive bombers was reported approaching US positions, and 1st Lieutenant Swett was among the pilots who were scrambled to go intercept. It was his first combat mission.

First combat missions for fighter pilots are infamously dangerous. That's when an inordinate number of them get picked off by experienced opponents. The ones who survive that first clash have much greater chances of surviving subsequent encounters.

Swett downed three dive bombers, and got hit by friendly fire from anti-aircraft gunners on the ground. Going after a second formation despite the damage to his Wildcat, he shot down four more and was after a fifth when he ran out of ammunition and was wounded and his plane badly damaged by Japanese fire. He eventually ditched the Wildcat in Tulagi Harbor and was rescued to be sent to a naval hospital.

Lieutenant Swett's efforts that day didn't go unnoticed. He was promoted to captain and sent to train in the new Corsair fighter-bombers and to work from carrier decks in the future. And he was nominated for the Medal of Honor by Admiral Mark Mitscher personally.

Busy first day in combat: shoot down seven, lose your plane, get promoted, win the Purple Heart and the Medal of Honor.

So why don't we all know who James Swett was? Or Alvin York or Ernest Evans or William Barber?

I'm not suggesting that American's don't value these sacrifices in general; they do. I'm not suggesting that too much hero worship is a great idea in a republic; it isn't. But every schoolchild once knew who Alvin York was. Gary Cooper played him in a movie, in fact. There will be no movies about Swett (although he was mentioned in recent television programs); or Evans, a mostly Native American skipper who at one point on October 25, 1944 led his tiny little destroyer USS Johnston in a gunnery duel with Japanese battleship Kongo - not the most amazing exploit of Evans or Johnston that day, last day of Evan's life and many of his crew; or Barber who commanded his troops in a six day battle at Chosin Reservoir from a stretcher in December 1950.

Maybe there should be some more movies about them, instead of the recent crop of anti-war movies which, I notice, no one watches or cares about.

Even though most Americans today will never hear any of these names, we should note that people like Swett, Evans and Barber, and thousands of others, keep appearing when American forces go to war. We can't fully gauge what makes most American servicemen and women engage in brave, competent service; a good many in outright heroics; a few in what it takes to earn a Medal of Honor, which very often means not surviving to enjoy the accolade. Clearly it isn't the notion that your name will live forever in American culture, outside the military, which of course does remember these men.

Perhaps it is a good indication. While we celebrate musical performers and sports stars and politicians, and enjoy our mostly happy, mostly safe lives here in the States, people like James Swett not only serve but demonstrate unsuspected skills and qualities every time we go to war. If someday we go to war and no one does that, it will be then that we'll know our society, our culture, is doing something wrong.

Most people don't have to know anything about their exploits for there to be a Paul Ray Smith or a Jason Dunham or a Michael P. Murphy or a Michael A. Monsoor or a Ross A. McGinnis. But they deserve to be remembered, and they deserve to be examples of how to behave.

Comic Strips

In addition to comic books, I've always liked and enjoyed newspaper comic strips... although oddly enough I've never followed many in the newspapers themselves. It's been pretty rare when any local or otherwise easily obtainable newspaper had the strips I wanted to read.

In fairly early youth, I discovered (via the well-equipped Fort Clayton library) collections of Buck Rogers in the 25th Century and Little Orphan Annie, books I've been able to obtain in adulthood. Both collections were sometimes frustrating selections of stories, sometimes cutting off in mid-episode or starting in the middle, but they were still very satisfying. The Buck Rogers material, titled The Collected Works of Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, was very primitive for the most part, but had an appealing energy. The strips were written by Dick Calkins and usually drawn by Phil Nowlan, and featured an endless series of very art deco spaceships and gadgets, and the usual derring do. Rogers fights rather incongruous Mongols who'd taken over the 25th Century Earth to begin with, but was soon on to interplanetary voyages and wars with the likes of Tiger Men of Mars. He spars with the air pirate Black Barney and Killer Kane, and has a rather testy relationship with Lieutenant Wilma Deering, his guide to the future he's landed in. It's glorious stuff.

I had no notion of Flash Gordon at this point, outside of TV reruns of the old serials, because of the vagaries of library collections. But Buck Rogers had many qualities. The strip began in 1929, the same day as Tarzan, and was one of the first serial adventure strips. While not as popular as Thimble Theatre with Popeye, which gave mid-century Americans words like jeep and goon and phrases like "I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today," the imagery and excitement of the strip entered daily usage. Even today, no one would be mystified by a phrase like "No bucks, no Buck Rogers," from The Right Stuff. This early spaceman's name is a synonym for advanced technology. Most people might recall Buck Rogers from the 1970s TV show; can't say I ever watched it, so I can't comment. I guess I couldn't believe it was likely to measure up to that old stuff from the 20s and 30s.


Arf! The Life and Hard Times of Little Orphan Annie 1935-1945 was a very different sort of experience. Annie's adventures were more down to Earth. Frequently separated from her billionaire adoptive father "Daddy" Warbucks, Annie would find herself caught up in some poor or middle class family's struggles with evil bankers or organized criminals or sometimes communist spies, which author/artist Harold Gray had a gift for portraying with particularly horrifying amorality. Annie was no shrinking violet; perhaps the most ordinary and unremarkable character of the golden age of the comic strip, she had no noticeable powers or even skills. She was tough and honorable, and spent the Depression years giving an example of how to behave on the comic pages.

Annie isn't impressed with orphanages; Warbucks isn't, either, but he is determined to do things the legal way. Notice Annie's businesslike outfit, suitable for the times. Her usual dress might have seemed frivolous in WW II.

Gray was a flinty conservative in a very liberal age. He notoriously disliked FDR, who is never mentioned in the strip, loathed communists with a burning passion, showed unions in a very bad light, and generally praised the virtues of self-reliance, thrift and enterprise. The real hero of the story, on the relatively rare occasions he shows up, is the unapologetic capitalist tycoon Oliver Warbucks, who loses fortunes and gains them back with reckless abandon, always quietly serving his country's interests without much real regard for his own bottom line. Perhaps the most unique part of the strip's appeal is the fact that the good guys are actually rather terrifying. Warbucks is somebody you wouldn't want to get on your bad side - though generous and kind, enemies find him merciless; his chief aides are two truly appalling musclemen, the giant turbanned Punjab, who has mystical powers and sometimes disappears foes in a cloud of smoke, never to be seen again, and the sinister Asp, a black-hatted assassin of vaguely Eurasian appearance, who is the very model for someone you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley.

When things cut up rough, and Gray builds up to these big confrontations with great skill and patience, one genuinely worries about the characters. Annie's opponents are not concerned about her tender age; Warbucks ends up nearly dead many times. The strip is moody and dark, and Gray does not spare the reader. Some scenes stay with you forever after you read them, like the terrifying 1937 sequence in which Warbucks and the Asp are apparently slain by a murderous gang far up a jungle river, and then the strange Mr. Am intervenes, with eerie, understated consequences. Who is the jolly, white-bearded Mr. Am, who seems like an eccentric old rich man who makes inexplicable remarks and claims to be millions of years old? The reader can only guess. Or the 1938 series of strips in which Annie and her dog Sandy are being hunted in the night by the evil spy Axel and his gang, who are using two huge, horrible hunting dogs. One of the dogs catches them, and Sandy, a mutt a third the size of the hound, fights like a hero, his death apparently inevitiable, until Annie is able to intervene with an ax, off panel. When Axel's men and the other dog arrive, the second beast sees what happened to his partner and doesn't care for it; he refuses to continue to track Annie and Sandy. Axel shoots the dog, and the hunt is over, but Annie is still in danger from the gang.

Both the Buck Rogers and Orphan Annie strips become spare and different in the 1940s, when World War II begins. In different ways - the Buck Rogers strip is set in the future, after all - both become tied to the war effort. Calkins signs his strips "Lt. Dick Calkins" and his characters fight their own war; Annie tangles with Nazi spies and Warbucks is no longer interested in wealth as he supports the war effort. Both of the compilations end in 1945, and of course the golden age of the adventure comic strip did, as well. Steve Canyon was yet to come, and Prince Valiant and Buzz Sawyer had good years yet, but nothing was really the same for comic strips after the war.

The comic strip format is very different from comic books. Each daily (or Sunday) strip has to be a little self-contained story. It constrains the narrative, and makes it a bit jerky at times, but it also unmistakably shows the skill of the storytellers. Not just anybody can tell an effective story in four panels a day and keep the reader interested. Modern strips aren't as good at it. The size of the daily strip is smaller, the serial strips are regarded as old fashioned, and the great creators of the 20s to the 40s, Al Capp, Harold Gray, Bud Segar, Harold Foster, Milt Caniff and Chester Gould are all long gone. The better comic strip men of the second half of the 20th century would be gag artists: Charles Shultz, Bill Watterson, Walt Kelly and Mort Walker all worked with humor first, adventure second.

Annie (the "Little Orphan" is gone) is still around, revived in the 1970s. But now the strip is about Warbucks, and a bunch of new characters, all adults for the most part. Annie is mostly carried along like baggage, moving from one comfortable stop with friends to another with adventures in between. Not the same thing at all, although it is a decent strip. I wonder what's changed that in our society that 12 year old Annie of the 20s-40s could be such a vigorous moral force in the strip, but in the modern period, the creators or the syndicate can't believe the readers might like that. The strip is aimed at adults now, I suspect. The old Little Orphan Annie was appealing to children and adults alike.

More comic strips another time. Prince Valiant was my other big favorite, and I thought I'd survey some of the strips one can get at on the Internet today, including reprints of old comics.
Punjab in action during WWII. Yeah, guys? I don't think the admiral is coming back.

More on Dubonnet

A nice article on Dubonnet, which I mentioned below, at the Washington Post.

Crossover

This post at Bostonist.com describes a drink called the Fortress of Solitude, or Superman's Punch. Sounds intriguing.