(( Liquid Literature ))

This section is devoted to books, magazines, and articles we find particularly interesting. Each segment is not intended as a review or a synopsis of a work, but more like a general impression of the content, writing, and how much we get from it. Because we’re more than just a little ADD, we’ll jump around a lot – reading some, then jumping ship, only to return again. If you’re looking for user reviews, we suggest going to Amazon.

Whiskey: The Definitive World Guide (US $40)
By Micheal Jackson, with contributions from Dave Bloom, Jefferson Chase, Dale DeGroff, Jürgen Deible, Richard Jones, Martine Nouet, Stuart Ramsay, Willie Simpson, and Ian Wisniewski

I love this book. I love it so much, I just leave it on the coffee table and let people who come over see how much I know about whiskey.

I bought this during a recent whiskey-heavy phase in my life. I grew up in a household that didn’t really covet hard alcohol. Sure, Mom had her Gin and Tonics on the back deck during the warm months, but Dad always stuck to the craft microbrews of our Pacific Northwest or the wines from just about anywhere. The abrasiveness of my first taste of liquor at the age of fourteen, combined with (I’m guessing) the ease at which I developed a taste for those incredible beers that were brewed a mile from our house made it easy to steer clear of the hard stuff most of the way through college. I just wasn’t interested. I’d gladly drink a warm, skunky Silver Bullet over a sip of Jack. It was psychological and guttural, and I wanted none of it.

Then I moved to New York and got a job as a barback.

It took a long time to develop a taste for whiskey. In fact, it took a long time for me to develop a taste for nearly everything complex that I now enjoy. I feel like I can trace those moments of revelation, when suddenly any psychological barrier I had was dismantled by the wonderful flavors presented to me. Often, this has come with a mixed drink. With gin it was the Aviation, then the Last Word. With whiskey, it was the Smash, and then the Manhattan, and then (oh holy of holies!) the Sazerac. These were gateways for me, if that applies, to breaking down the harshness of the alcohol and really, truly tasting complex flavors. I still wince a little at the night’s first sip of straight whiskey, but it’s more like the shock of walking from a warm house into a gust of sharp, cold wind. It’s a surprise, but it can also be refreshing to the senses.

So, with that in mind, I’ve been trying to teach myself more about the liquors that form the basis for so many cocktails I love and serve. I want to know what, for example, is the difference between an American straight rye and a Canadian rye. Why do those silly canucks call EVERYTHING rye? Bat-crazy woodland talk, if you ask me… I want to know why different gins have such varying proofs, and why they can have such varying flavors. Knowing this will help me in being able to more accurately compose my drinks – it’ll make me better, faster, stronger at what I do….

Micheal Jackson has, I think, put together a fantastic overview of whiskey. I went into the reading of this book with almost no knowledge of distilling and very little understanding of the basic differences in whiskey groups. After reading the first section of the book (Understanding Whiskey), I find myself both totally interested in the idea of someday distilling my own spirits, and more than a little annoyed that I can’t just go buy a still and blow myself up. Whatever, feds.

After that comes a lengthy and in-depth discussion of aromas and flavors. Were I more knowledgeable and familiar with whiskey, I bet the provided information would be less academic and more applicable to my palate. But I’m not quite there. I did, however, take a lot from it; the discussions about climate, geography, grain, seaweed (!), water, heather, peat, etc. make me completely appreciate the value of what I pour in my glass. I’ve found myself pulling a bottle for a customer and slowly – ever so carefully – pulling the cork and pouring it into a glass. I do this almost unconsciously, as though my slow and calculated movements are measured in respect to the countless years of love and hard labor that went into every ounce. It’s comically romantic, sure, but it’s also sort of cult-ish.

Basically, I finally understand. I understand the connoisseur’s mind, even if I am an infant in comparison. I understand that one can devote much of their time and intellect to the study of a liquid, a liquid that has such an interesting and muddled history, but is almost Christ-in-a-glass to those who worship at its alter. It’s fun to love something that much, and I wouldn’t mind being cool enough to join the group.

The bulk of the book is a breakdown of the different varieties and the various whiskey-producing countries: Scotland, Ireland, Canada, the US, and Japan. Though it’s very heavy on the Scots, there is fantastic information for everything. I’m still reading certain sections, but the layout of the book is such that you can jump around at your pleasure, learn something about the bottle you just bought (with tasting notes to boot!), or explore distilleries that you’ve never even heard of. It’s not just a book about the amber liquid; it’s a book about the process, the culture, the history, and the esteem of whiskey. Even though the title might infer it, this book doesn’t pretend to be the total authority, but rather pushes you out into the world so you can discover you own tastes and impressions.

All with the aid of pretty, pretty pictures.

In short, I really think this a great introduction for the beginner and (I’m guessing) the more experienced whiskey drinker. The text and subject matter steers clear of pretension and really engages, even with subjects that can be abstract from time to time.

- by APD

(( Introductions ))

Most nights, when the weather and mood is right, we step out on our terrace and sit with a cocktail, glass of fine whisky, a bottle of beer, or a goblet of wine, enjoying the night air, the mellow conversations of our nearby neighbors, and the hum of our surrounding Brooklyn. We sit, talk about the world and our lives, but invariably our conversation turns to the glass or bottle in our hands. We find ourselves fascinated, intrigued, disgusted, inspired by the Drink – something more than an indifferent imbibing, something like religious or scientific interest. Sure, we’d like to pretend a drink is never a means to an end, never the medication to ail a stressful day or an avenue to escape. We’d like to, but we’d be lying.

Sometimes it’s nice and fun to drink too much, enjoy life in a different perspective, and fall together with unexpected people in wholly unexpected places just for the hell of it. We’ve done it, and we’ll damn well do it again.

But that’s not why we’re here.

The writing of this journal – this companion to the young imbiber – is meant as an exploration of the fascinating world of spirits and cocktails, beers and wines, food and night life, and almost anything else that might cross our path. We live and work in New York City, so forgive us if we seem too focused on our surroundings – flights are expensive. We say ‘young’ for only one reason: because we are young (mid-20s, perhaps) and because we are ignorant, still very much in the process of learning. We spend hours working behind some of Manhattan’s bars every week, and while this in itself has taught us a lot, there is a whole world out there full of dialogue and fascinating people who can teach us so much more. They write their own blogs and contribute to various magazines and publications. While we respect and aspire to that level of knowledge, and spend a substantial (some say pathetic) amount of time reading their works, there are far too few people documenting the road to becoming an expert. We are not experts in experience or palate, so we’ll do our best to steer clear of didactic and unnecessary reviews because, frankly, we’ll end being wrong.

We’d like to be experts. We’d like it very much, thank you, but we have a long way to go.

Therefore, this journal is meant as a companion to our education from the perspective of young, passionate bartenders as we explore from behind our own bars and bent-elbowed, keen, and wide-eyed at our favorite night time spots on the other side of the stick. We work at various levels within the restaurant and bar world, seeing very different perspectives of what many think to be the same thing, so we hope that by writing this, we can inspire more young people to take a passionate interest in the profession without focusing too much on the prestige of their restaurant or bar. We’d love to see a bartender at a dive bar use bitters, ask “rye or bourbon?”, and stir a Manhattan if we were big enough jerks to order one.

Be warned: we’re total geeks about this stuff. If the reader expects detailed accounts of the debaucheries last month that started at an Irish pub in SoHo, made its way to a party boat that circled the island, somehow got into an after hours spot in the East Village with those terrible, terrible margaritas that we can’t stop ordering, and for one reason or another ended at dawn with us convincing a guy named Mark from Texas to drive us over the bridge to our apartment, all the while getting a hefty 5:00am sermon on the virtues of this-or-that by our jolly host, you’re probably not gonna get it. We’re here to talk about the things we learn and observe, the experiences we have that teach us something, our evolving opinions, and the general world surrounding our profession. We’re newbies, and that’s totally awesome.

If the reader finds all this interesting, good. If it sparks conversation, all the better. If not, at least we get to flush out our thoughts and ideas.

To quote the text for which this blog is partly inspired, and from where we respectively pilfer our name: “…we are still heartily of the opinion that decent libation supports as many million souls as it threatens; donates pleasure and sparkle to more lives than it shadows; inspires more brilliance in the world of art, music, letters, and common ordinary intelligent conversation, than it dims – as even a brief glance into the history of our finest lyric poets, musicians, artists, authors, and statesmen, will attest – right from the day of Wull Shaksper to our own generation” (The Gentleman’s Companion, Vol II, Charles H Baker Jr.).