As regular raincoaster readers know, we at the ol’ ManoloFood blog are of Catholic tastes, although quite happy to take a Protestant on a quiet night. We are well-pleased both with the offerings of one of the greatest chefs in the world and with the humble pierogies from a drag queen burger bar. We are on the record as 100% down with wine tumblers (red wines only). And so, this may come as something of a shock to you, but there are a few things on this Earth about which we are entirely, stone-cold orthodox.

And Martini (or, more properly, Cocktail) Glasses are one of those things.

It’s fun to have glassware of different shapes and sizes, or even different colours: in my house, you can have 63 consecutive beverages chez moi without ever having the same kind of glass. You cannot, however, drive home afterwards. I have at least one of everything, including a frosted plastic Martini glass that lights up in rotating primary colours like a 60′s Christmas tree, thanks to the miracles of fiberoptics and LEDs, but I generally save that for parties where even the dog wears a lampshade.

Now that is one deluxe cab service, but which one do you tip?

Did you know it was legal to ride your horse when you’re drunk, as long as you do it in Montana? Sensible if you’re using a Western saddle, otherwise the risk of slippage is too great. You dressage artistes are out of luck. My grandfather used to have a draft horse that would take him and the wagon safely home from the pub without any input from him, but unfortunately it meant he could never sell that horse, as it would always end up taking whoever it was home to his farm. But I digress…

Anyhoodle, to steal an expression from Plumcake, I’m also going to steal Plumcake’s Yes/No/Maybe post style and apply it to glasses for the classic Martini. I don’t really care what you serve your FunTinis in, as long as you do it well away from me, but if you’re going to serve a proper Martini, even to yourself, you must, repeat MUST, do it in one of the following.

Yes:

Riedel Vinum Martini Glass. I don’t care what else you own; if you drink proper Martinis, you need the proper glass. This is it. You don’t have to do Riedel specifically: you can make do with any very, very plain version in good-quality glass or crystal, and yes, quality matters. Buying a heavy, clumsy Martini glass with a thick rim and a stem like a redwood is just throwing good money after bad design. There are solid practical reasons that beverageware evolved the way it has, and it pays to use the right container if you care enough to make the drink well. Don’t stick yourself with a bunch of Martini glasses that aren’t a positive pleasure to hold, because if it’s not a gratifying sensual experience, why bother in the first place? Just get yourself a paper bag and two straws and you’re good to go, right? It’s not as if “Plymouth 6:1 with a Twist” is on your diet anyway.

Now on to the No’s:

These are the Martini glasses you cannot buy for Martinis. You can buy them for your FunTinis and your blended drinks or whatever godforsaken Jagermeister concoctions your roommate (it IS your roommate’s Jagermeister, right?) whips up, but you are not allowed to spend your hard-earned money on these until you have one set of perfect Martini Glasses as described above.

The Sagaform Martini glass. It’s pretty. It’s hand-blown. It is very well-made. But it’s shallow, which will warm your drink up in no time even if you keep the glass in the freezer (they don’t get dusty in there, and the solid knob is supposed to hold the cold) and it’s anything but graceful or sexy. Grownups should never drink anything, even juice from glasses that could be described as “stubby” (Old Fashioned glasses aren’t stubby; they’re just impressively broad for their height, like so many of their aficionados)!

Also No, the classic “Frat Bar “Martini Glass” even if it’s by Riedel, which it is in this case.

and the stemless version, which looks about as dignified as a man in a Hugo Boss suit who has forgotten his pants.

What is this? I don’t even...

Now, you may think I’m just being arbitrary and contrarian (moi?) but the fact is a Martini must be cold, very cold, to be very good. And the only Martinis you should drink are those which have been made very well, and served in glasses that will not interfere with your experience. Any glass that forces you to hold it by the bowl interferes, by turning you into a big, handsy gin warming device. And don’t try to kid me. “I’ll only hold it up near the rim” is the drinker’s version of “I didn’t inhale.”

Now the Maybes.

Once you’ve got a set of those perfect glasses mentioned first, just one for each friend you positively treasure enough to have over for the good stuff, you can add these and serve real Martinis in them. Yes, they’re slightly bizarre. And no, you can’t get these first. But they are ingenious, charming, attractive, and very practical. I’d bring them out with some adventurous friends, or possibly some people in the cocktail industry because although they never get tired of perfection, after your five hundredth perfect cocktail in a perfect cocktail glass, you might want to go just a little crazy.

The Nachtmann Dancing Stars Bossa Nova Martini Glass from, yes, Riedel. And no, they don’t pay me for this fetish of mine. This one is a Maybe because that stem is just sooooo thick. With these proportions it teeters on the edge of clumsy, but the beautiful cuts (click through and look at the zoomed pic) and the great quality of the crystal bring it back to the right side. It’s also nearly ten inches tall, so this is quite an imposing glass; singles will barely wet the bottom, so store these in the freezer and serve larger drinks in these. For all the “Dancing Stars” marketing, these are very macho glasses.

Libbey Swerve Martini Glasses. Because, just, why not? Libbey is decent utilitarian glass and these are cocktails we’re talking about, not holy water: some things just go better with a twist.

The actually useful stemless Martini glass. Unlike the above-mentioned atrocity, it will actually keep your drink cold; the downside is that you must be sitting down in order to use it (or freeze your left hand while turning the ice into water) and that it best suits drinks that are sipped slowly, as otherwise it’s completely unnecessary. If you’re a slow drinker, it might be just the thing for you, as it will keep your Martini good and cold for a very long time indeed, but coasters are going to be an essential accoutrement with the condensation. And word to the wise: shaved or crushed ice works: cubes, no matter how small, do not. Snow works really well, actually.

And now, my absolute favorite of the New Wave of glassware (“New” here meaning post-Prohibition):

The Starfrit Double Wall Martini Glass. It’s got a seven ounce capacity, which is just too big, but otherwise I love this little thing. That little pigtail at the bottom is just the right amount of crazy, even if cleaning this thing will drive you in that general direction. The clever double-walled design is not only useful for insulatory purposes, it’s also quite attractive. Just be sure to buy the extra-large olives and you’ll be all good.

A guest post by intrepid reporter/photographer Leona Shanana, covering the launch of Voodoo Tiki Tequila at the Tiki-Fabulous Waldorf Hotel in Vangroover.

Voodoo Tiki Tequila at the Waldorf Hotel

Snazzy! It was really impossible to get a clear shot of the coloured glass inside the bottle due to refraction. No, those are not waterlogged gummi bears in there; they are little tiki gods in technicolour.

These are 3 stages of aged tequila. The bartender was mixing with the Platinum Silver; the Reposado is aged 6 mos and the Anejo one year. Massey also had another bottle secreted away under the table that was top of the line stuff – only 1000 bottles made a year, most of which get snapped up by the American market. I must have chatted up the right guy (not pictured) because I got  a taste of it! The Voodoo Tiki guys’ main point seemed to be that we haven’t had access to really good tequila in Canada up til now, except for Patron which is so costly [ed. note: and Don Julio]. So this tequila is intended to fill the niche between Patron and tequilas that are fit only to be tossed back fast and chased with salt and lemon to cut the sicky feeling. This stuff is meant to be sipped, like good scotch.

The Green Dragon is exactly like a lime margarita with no ice and really scrumptious actually; and the Private Collection 1000 bottles a year stuff I would describe as smooth drinking, sweetish and slightly smoky flavour. Gentler than scotch and it barely even tasted like tequila as we know it. It was almost viscous.

This is not a man to piss off

Here’s the guy who was chopping the tops off coconuts. I am kicking myself for forgetting his name. The bar must have gone through 100 coconuts. The way they worked it was, when you came in, you received your lei, green tiki shotglass and an ounce of Green Dragon, which is a blend of tequila, mandarin and lime (like a margarita with no ice). Once you had drunk that you got a coconut, and then you brought the empty coconut back and Shaun would fill it with a Diablo.

Ashlee & Anastasia, Waldorf hostesses

The charming hostesses/coatcheck girls, Ashlee and Anastasia. Anastasia is holding one of the green tiki god shotglasses we all got to take home (don’t worry, I grabbed you one [thanks! can you ever have enough?]). Eventually, Voodoo Tiki will market minis in bottles that shape.

mixing a Diablo at the Waldorf

Shaun (sp?) the handsome bartender, mixing a Diablo. This is Silver tequila over ice, house ginger beer (chunky!) and cassis. Really yummy! and once the bar had heated up and everyone was getting drymouthed, he switched to pineapple juice instead of ginger beer. Refreshing!

a Titch Too Much Voodoo Tiki tequila seems to have gotten to Mark here

Sometimes the morning after the night before begins before you’ve managed to get home. We feel your pain, Mark.

Voodoo Tiki Tequila Shotglasses

Cheers! A little mood music, anyone?

Cheers!

I like their spirit(s)!

Shawn Soole by Vancouver Foodster

UPDATE: Golly, just look how influential we are: it got in the New York Times today!

Well, what do you know? The humble ManoloFood blog has permeated the highest reaches of the Cocktailosphere and influenced Liquid Revolutionary Shawn Soole of Clives Classic Lounge, one of the best bartenders on the fair shores of the Pacific. Yes, undoubtably in response to our epic post about the world’s poshest grilled cheese sarnies, he’s been moved to create the masterpiece of cocktail curiosity known as Grilled Cheese Washed Rum.

And we have a world exclusive on the recipe:

You start with an amber, not too aggressive rum (specifically the lovely Mount Gay) and make yourself a super cheesy, super buttery grilled cheese sandwich with whatever bread you want. Make two, because you’ll want to eat one, silly! Crumble the spare up, soak it in the rum for 4-6 hours, covered airtightly which to me means pyrex pie tins with plastic wrap secured by rubber band. Don’t use plastic; it’ll absorb all the aromas! And metal is risky; stick with glass or pyrex.

Strain the crumbly bits out of your booze and toss them. Freeze the rum so that the fat solidifies and then break it off. If you freeze it too long, just let it sit on the counter a bit till it’s softened and you can pull the fat off in a sheet. This is almost as much fun as picking a scab, and with no pain! And it’s hardly gross at all!!!

So far, so awesome.

Now put it through a coffee filter a couple of times to get the last of the cloud-making bits, and what you’ve got left is your deliciously salty, deliciously savory, artisanal grilled cheese washed rum. Sounds crazy, tastes savory. It’s unusual but it’s also very, very good.

Cheers! For more sandwich-based beverage recipes, see this roundup of sandwich-in-a-glass cocktails made for National Sandwich Day, November 3rd.

Affogato, easy and snooty to boot!

When I was asked to do a guest post by the Manolo I was stunned by the compliment. The Great Manolo Blahnik asking me to write a piece for him. Awesome! Sadly, my joy did not last when I learned that it was Manolo the Shoeblogger.

So, back to reality. Mostly I write about alcohol related items. This is a food blog, though. So, we need to combine the two.

I remembered years ago being taken to an Italian restaurant in the Marina District of San Francisco. We apparently went there because our companions did not cook. I found out how much they could not cook when they ordered plain spaghetti. When I say plain, I do not mean with a simple marinara or a nice putanesca, but boiled pasta. Just boiled. For God’s sake, learn to boil at least!

The dinner was good, though, and the dessert menu had an item I had never eaten, affogato. Affogato is Italian for “drowned”. It is a simple dessert where you pour a shot of hot espresso over a scoop of good gelato or vanilla ice cream. We loved it and were also suitably impressed by their ability to charge so much for a scoop of vanilla with coffee on top.

So, make this dessert to impress your friends. First, always refer to it as affogato, never “coffee and ice cream”. You can even buy good espresso at a coffee shop and reheat immediately before serving. Make sure that you use gelato or a very good, dense vanilla ice cream such as Ben & Jerry’s or Godiva, or, if you are lucky, the Holy Grail of ice cream – Dr. Bob’s.

And now to pimp the alcohol. To make this dessert truly impressive, find a bottle of Firelit Spirits Coffee Liqueur. This is simply the best coffee liqueur ever. It truly tastes of coffee and is not overly sweet as Kahlua or Tia Maria or others. Our review on this wonder beverage is here. Find a bottle of this, heat it, pour it over Dr. Bob’s or gelato and it will be almost impossible to top you in the dessert department. (For those poor souls who cannot find this spirit, try mixing Amaretto and espresso. It is good, just not divine.)

There you have it, an easy dessert that takes little time but will impress your Christmas or New Year’s guests just the same.

N.B. Guest blogger Erik Nabler blogs regularly about drinks and drinking at the Liquor Locusts.

Placing at risk the delicate health of his liver, all week long Mr. Henry devoted his attention selflessly to the study of rye whiskey, with especially spirited focus on the celebrated American whiskey cocktails – the Manhattan, the Old-Fashioned, and the Sazerac.

Results are in. Adding bitters, vermouth, or anything else to good rye whiskey is needless embellishment. It’s gilding the lily. It’s screwing the pooch.

It’s a case of rye gone awry.

The Manhattan cocktail may be the best of the bunch, but finding Angostura bitters on upper Broadway is not easy. Four liquor stores and three grocery stores were sold out. Could the Manhattan cocktail be dying out in Manhattan?

Curiously, sweet red vermouth, shot of bitters, and rye whiskey which constitute the Manhattan are somewhat less than satisfying until pulled together by the unmistakable synthetic flavor of a maraschino cherry. The Manhattan is a tonic that tastes like a stomach-ache remedy mixed by an old time apothecary, appropriate if you’re using firewater rye whiskey from your own still but inappropriate for the mellow rye whiskeys available today.

The Old-Fashioned is just rye, bitters, sugar, and splash of soda water. Once again, why confuddle a balanced whiskey with bitters? (And by the way, in case your stores don’t stock it, Angostura bitters smells just like Fernet Branca, the classic Italian amaro.)

The Sazerac is the most curious one of all because it requires a teaspoon of Pernod (or any other licorice liqueur) and a splash of Peychaud’s bitters, slightly milder than Angostura but very much the same kind of preparation. Once again the image of a long-whiskered apothecary springs to mind, this one in a Mardi Gras hat.

Following the recommendation of the reliable Eric Asimov, New York Times spirits correspondent (a fine career, don’t you agree?), for mixing purposes Mr. Henry bought a bottle of Michter’s, which was quite good but fell short of the richness found in more expensive straight ryes like Hudson Valley Manhattan rye.

At the suggestion of Mr. Hess, a correspondent from California, Mr. Henry searched for Old Potrero, a rye distilled by the Anchor Steam Brewing Company, one of America’s great breweries. Alas, Old Potrero is not to be found anywhere on the Upper West Side. Neither is Templeton rye from Iowa. In fact, good rye whiskey is scarce on local shelves. Yet again the Founding Fathers would be scandalized by the habits and customs of modern Americans.

Like a hero of the old west or an executive on Madison Avenue, these days Mr. Henry reaches for a shot of rye. He drinks rye on the rocks before dinner, rye on the rocks with a little water for Chinese food, and rye in a snifter after dinner. Having explored its qualities in the glass, he is moving on to explore its qualities as a flavor additive.

This morning he flavored french toast with rye. That is, he put a tablespoon of Hudson Valley Manhattan rye whiskey in the egg and milk batter. The flavor was subtly aromatic and perfectly delightful, better than his usual zest of lemon, far better than a splash of vanilla.

Caramel in color and flavor, a carefully distilled rye whiskey resonates with elegant overtones of vanilla and berries. A liberal pour over vanilla ice cream is terrific. The recipe for tiramisu calls for a shot of spirits. There, too, rye is an excellent choice.

Anywhere you might use vanilla or molasses, think instead of rye. Brush it over the top of your pie crust before baking. (This was Mr. Henry’s French step-grandmother’s secret to flaky crust.) Add a splash to cornbread or Boston baked beans.

Rye is the quintessential American whiskey. George Washington not only drank it, he distilled it, too.

Finding an Apple-friendly wifi connection in Ireland is harder than parsing the difference between Guinness and Murphy’s, the two rival national stout porter ales.

Although Mr. Henry slightly preferred Murphy’s, a blind taste test between them might fool even the most seasoned pub crawler. (After the first two pints no one cares, anyway.)

Following a day riding around the Blaskett Islands on ten-foot North Atlantic swells, for dinner you need a hearty dish that won’t upset your queasy stomach.

Traditional Irish stew is lamb with potatoes, often prepared with carrots, leeks, onion, parsnips and rutabaga. Unlike other savory stews the meat is not first browned and therefore the broth is not dark.

Having eaten it daily in Ireland, Mr. Henry had a good idea of what it should be. You can use shoulder but Mr. Henry bought lamb neck, the tastiest and least expensive of cuts, but one that takes a bit more trouble.

Traditional Irish stew

three lamb necks in one-inch pieces
chicken stock
six potatoes, Yukon gold
two large carrots
two large parsnips
two leeks
one medium white onion
two cloves garlic, whole
bouquet of fresh sage, rosemary, and thyme
chopped parsley
zest of lemon
ground nutmeg
splash of Worcestershire sauce
salt & pepper

Have your butcher cut the neck into one inch pieces. Bring lamb to a boil in chicken stock with garlic cloves and simmer until tender. Let cool so you can skim the fat. Remove the meat and the marrow, and cut into bite sizes. Discard bones and garlic.

To broth add diced onion and leeks you’ve first wilted in a sauce pan. Dice one potato and add this right away so it’s starch will thicken your broth. Then add potatoes cut in larger shapes as well as the other root vegetables.

Seasoning is mild. Like the song says, use “parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme” tied in a bouquet. For a richer aroma add ground pepper, a little grated nutmeg, and a splash of Worcestershire sauce.

You can cook on stove top (low) or in the oven (350º). When your vegetables are nearly done, about one hour, combine the meat and salt. As with any stew, prepare it ahead of time and let it rest so flavors may combine.

Never afraid to fiddle with her husband’s kitchen creations, Mrs. Henry tasted the broth and pronounced it redolent of osso buco, perhaps, therefore, in need of a gremolata at the table, which in this case turned out to be a simple mix of finely chopped lemon peel and parsley. Brilliant.

Next came the question of what to drink. In an Irish pub the black brew on tap is without question the drink of choice. Light in body, dark in color, richly malted, toasted to a crisp, nutty finish, Irish stout porter is divine.

Contrary to general expectations, red wine was too strong for such a mild dish. Wine drinkers at the Henry table chose a sauvignon blanc.

Striving for a more traditional pairing, Mr. Henry enjoyed his stew with the superb new Manhattan Rye whiskey from Hudson Valley, the first distillery built in New York since prohibition. Sláinte.