Max "Bunny" Sparber

AMERICANS don't like the taste of liquor. We're sort of notorious for it. We've made vodka, a relatively flavorless beverage, the top-selling alcohol in this country, and we favor sweet cocktails that mask the taste of their base liquor. Oh, sure, there are a few scotch fans out there who wax poetic over the mossy flavor of peat, and there are some gin maniacs who can opine endlessly about the various junipers and herbs and whatnot in their drink of choice, but these people are, frankly, weirdos. This is America, damn it. We make our martinis out of vodka and return them to the bartender, disgusted, if we taste a hint of vermouth. If we're not mixing alcohol with sweet sodas such as Coca Cola or 7-Up, we're downing Daiquiris or Buttery Nipples or Red Bull mixes. If you want to frighten most American drinkers, just set a bottle of bitters, a bottle of vermouth, and a bottle of rye whiskey on the bar. Never mind that these are the ingredients for the Manhattan.

And that's the problem. The Manhattan is not a sweet drink. To use a phrase that's become popular over the past few years, it is a savory cocktail. This phrase was primarily borrowed from wine snobs, who use it to describe a wine that is interesting to drink, and that makes it just right when it's applied to a cocktail. Savory cocktails tend to have qualities that popular American cocktails don't: There's often a bitterness to them, or herbal favors, or unusually flavorful alcohols, or spices. Jeff Hollinger, co-author of The Art of the Bar, has made a case that savory cocktails are better pairings for meals, saying "If you start drinking too many citrus-based cocktails, you'll strip your palate," but we'd like to make a simpler case for savorness: It tastes better. Many of the ingredients may be acquired tastes, but we're adults and not children, and so it's time to start learning to love the flavor of alcohols, and the sophisticated ingredients that go into mixing classic cocktails, most of which were savory. (I have several old books of cocktails, and half of their drinks are made with vermouth, while the other half are made with absinthe.)

To that end, the Bottle Gang has invented our own savory cocktail, and we consider it a classic. The basic drink was concocted by Steve McPherson, with elements added in by me, Bunny Sparber; the drink was named by Coco Mault, after the film actor Steve McQueen, who she adores. The drink has a touch of sweetness to it, thanks to the presence of Benedictine, an herbal liqueur beverage, but this sweetness is made dry with the addition of brandy (we tend to make it with B&B, an elegant bottle in which the Benedictine and the brandy come premixed.) The drink is given a real punch by adding in a small-batch bourbon (we favor Knob Creek), and then we add in bitters for some balance. We've found a wedge of orange to be the right garnish, and is imbues the whole drink with a very subtle fruitiness. Here's how it's made.

THE MCQUEEN:

1/2 B&B
1/2 Bourbon
Splash of bitters
Wedge of orange
Serve on the rocks

So far, responses to the McQueen have been overwhelmingly positive, although it is such a strong drink that drinkers who know their limits often become worried upon having their first sip, knowing that two or three of these might have them swinging from chandeliers and cross dressing by morning. And it will, but it's worth it.

More Bottle Gang!