You can find Lou Saban behind Oak Long Bar at the Copley Plaza Hotel. Lucky for all of us recently he found himself abroad, and penned the following piece.

By Lou Saban:

Bartending is a real mixed bag.
When all is said and done, it’s pretty nice holding the keys to the stuff that most adults use to make themselves feel better about their spot on the planet. Unfortunately, for every generous tip or compliment on a well-balanced cocktail, sometimes you also have to answer the question, “So, what’s your real job?” In my head I respond, "when I am not doing this, I’m the CEO of a non-profit organization that provides neurosurgery for puppies."
Still, it’s a gig with a lot of cool benefits. In my mind, the greatest perk is the sense of community with your fellow barkeeps. If you do this job long enough, you start to recognize the people who also make their living pouring things into glasses. You always love to see these people sitting at your barstool because they tip well, are low maintenance, and can always relate to the condescending sneers that you may have received that day. Camaraderie is a beautiful thing.
What’s even better is that this bond doesn’t just stop at the nation’s borders. I am lucky enough to work for a hotel chain that has many locations around the world. When I noticed that there was one in London, I was interested. When I noticed that it was
The Savoy, I was elated.

Most bars worth their salt will have an old copy of the Savoy Cocktail Book somewhere on their shelf. It was written in 1930 by an American named Harry Craddock. Craddock flew the coop from the prohibition-afflicted United States in 1920, and became the head bartender at the American Bar at The Savoy in London. He spread the joys of the American cocktail to Europe and used his cocktail book to preserve recipes that may have otherwise been lost to antiquity. Despite a few renovations, the American Bar is still there, and it is really something.

When you first walk in, you notice the beautiful black and white sign that looks like it could have been there in 1920 as Craddock walked in for the first time. Immediately to your left, there is a small museum (you heard me right, this bar is so cool it has its own museum) full of old placards and menus from its many decades of existence. There are also telegraphs for Charlie Chaplin and Georges Clemenceau, bills for Sir Lawrence Olivier, and countless pictures of Vivien Leigh, John Wayne, Winston Churchill, and essentially anyone who was anyone in the last century.

All of that is well and good, but the real stunner is the case of vintage booze. Inside this treasure chest contains Gordon’s Gin, Pernod, Luxardo, and Carpano Antica from the 1950s; Van der Hum from the 1940’s; and a Jourd Cordial-Medoc from 1933. The crown jewel of the whole collection is this: a bottle of Sazerac de Forge Cognac from 1858. I wasn’t even aware that something like this existed, but there it was right before my very eyes. This bottle is pre-Civil War. Its nine years older than Canada! More notably, it’s a time capsule of what French grapes tasted like before they were nearly destroyed by the Phylloxera parasite in the late 19th century. It’s so beautiful that it even makes even its neighboring bottle of Moet Chandon from 1884 pale in comparison.

Once your head stops spinning, you proceed into the bar for a dozen or so of London’s finest cocktails. The bar consists mostly of a large lounge with a piano player to your immediate right. The bar itself is very small; only four seats with no standing room allowed. There is one man on service bar, and the friendly and knowledgeable Tom Walker for the rail. The small setting ensures that the drinks are made at a deliberate pace to ensure that nary a step is missed in both the creation of the drink and the presentation. The result is a simply wonderful libation.

The menu is a mixture of Savoy originals from the White Lady, to contemporaries such as the Green Park, to the totally outrageous. Remember that cognac that I mentioned earlier? They use it to make an original Sazerac cocktail along with the Pernod from the 1950s and Peychaud’s Bitters from the early 1900s. Its 5,000 GBP. Depending on the exchange rate, that’s about $8000 USD. For one cocktail. Once I picked myself up off the floor, I decided this cocktail was only for people who have absolutely no idea what to do with their money. In the words of Kurt Vonnegut, “It takes all kinds of people to fill up a world.”

All in all, it was a privilege to sit at this piece of living history and share a few drinks with Tom Walker and his more than capable colleagues. The international brotherhood of bartenders may not be out there splitting atoms or making contributions to string theory (or puppy neurosurgery), but we know how to take care of the people who do. More importantly, we know how to take care of each other, which makes it all worth it. And yes, this is my only job. Cut me a break, will ya?

A sure indication of a cocktail's fame is a international day of celebration. The first Saturday in February (this year Saturday the 2nd) is officially International Pisco Sour Day, perhaps the most famous drink in South America- maybe all the Americas.
Victor Vaughn Morris, an ex-patriot invented the drink in his Lima bar sometime before 1920, using Pisco (a grape spirit from the Peruvian town of the same name), sugar, lime juice- a take on the classic sour- Pisco for Whiskey, lime for lemon. However it wasn't until a few years later (middle 1920s) that Mario Bruiget, working in Morris' Bar, perfected the recipe by adding egg white and bitters, the version that continues to be popular today.
Like any great drink, controversy swirls, and many Chileans site evidence that, in fact they can claim its origins. Countries battling aside, historians seem to lean toward Peru, and as far as I can tell so do all bartenders that I know.

Where better to have a Pisco Sour than at the source, or at least as close as we can get in town? I headed over to the terrific Peruvian restaurant in Somerville's Union Square, Restaurante Turistico Machupicchu, a completely authentic, family operation owned by Rosy and Hugo Cerna. Between shifts can often be a pleasant down time for restaurant employees, I most likely would be the last person anyone would care to see. However, Carlos Yamo, from the western coastal town of Chiclayo, about 450 miles north of Lima, greeted me as warmly as an old friend. He poured the traditional version, adding some customers do like it sweeter and cinnamon can be added instead of bittters- which he gladly will accommodate. He made me a delicious version with Pisco Portón- the category equivalent quality of a fine single malt scotch. What a treat to have a traditional cocktail in a space where Boston seemingly drifted away- with a soccer match on in the background, a wonderful lighted picture box of Machu Picchu behind the bar and gracious, friendly service.
If you can't stop by this weekend, do so soon for live music, ceviche and of course a Pisco Sour. Salud!

Pisco Sour 2 oz Portón Pisco, .5 oz lime juice, .5 oz simple syrup, 1 egg white, Angostura bitters. A limeade for grownups!

Pisco Portón is a called a mosto verde pisco- distilled from partially fermented grape juice. Because of an incomplete fermentation, slightly higher sugar content remains. The resulting distillation creates a smooth, elegant, full bodied character. What this really means it's delicious straight too! Rich and malty, with tropical fruit flavors, 43% ABV, about $40.

Robert "Rabbie" Burns (1759-1797) was a Scottish poet considered a pioneer in the Romantic movement and perhaps the most famous Scot. To this day, his birthday is cause for celebration worldwide, not just in his native Scotland- and it's this Friday, January 25th. While almost a month too late to sing his 'Auld Lang Syne,' have a Scotch or Bobby Burns cocktail this weekend and toast the old country and its Ploughman Poet:
"Nae man can tether time or tide."
"O thou, my muse! guid (good) auld Scotch drink!"

The Bobby Burns cocktail may have originated at the Waldorf Bar in the early 1930s as a take on the Rob Roy; Scotch, sweet vermouth with the addition of Absinthe and orange bitters. I personally am a fan of present cocktail guru Dale Degroff's version: 2 oz Highland Scotch, .75 oz sweet vermouth, .5 oz Benedictine (slightly sweet herbal liqueur), shortbread cookie on the side as garnish.

Slàinte mhath!

94 years ago, January 15, 1919, was a tragic day in the North End.
Back then, the area was heavily industrialized- packed with people and a 2.3 million gallon cast-iron tank fifty feet above street level was not out of place. The tank was full of molasses, often used as a sweetener, but in this case (and applicable to this blog), it had been slated by the United States Industrial Alcohol Company for rum production.
Unseasonably warm weather that day after near zero temperatures days before may have contributed to the disaster; just after lunch time the tank ruptured spilling the entire deadly, sticky stuff onto Commercial Street in a 30 foot wave- 21 people were killed, 150 injured.

We tend not to forget in Boston; some say on warm days in the North End you can still smell molasses.

The Hawthorne, first, is the epitome of elegant design. I always feel a little like a friend and I have snuck into the family's modern, chic Park Avenue apartment and his parents are out of town. I love it here- friendly customer service, impeccable drinks, an oasis from the hustle of urban life and an answer for winter blues.
I stopped by to visit Dan Lynch the other night, and probably against his better judgement (honestly- what do I know?), he let me direct my first cocktail- the Old Pal. The drink originally appeared in Harry MacElhone's 1922 ABC of Mixing Cocktails- invented by an editor at The New York Herald in Paris. Much like a Negroni, just substituting Canadian whiskey for gin, and dry vermouth for sweet. 1 part rye, 1 part dry vermouth, 1 part Campari.
My version, via Dan, subs Aperol for Campari, making the drink lighter and less bitter (not that bitter is bad, of course!).
Old Pal variation: 1.5oz Rittenhouse rye, .75 Dolin dry Vermouth, .75 Aperol.

Dan graciously roped me into one more drink before I had to leave, aptly suggesting a second version from Harry's famous bar in Paris- the Boulevardier cocktail. By 1927, Mr. MacElhone no longer included the Old Pal; his book Barflies and Cocktails varies the drink yet again, this time Bourbon for rye, and sweet vermouth for dry. A simple drink, yet a lot for me to keep straight.

Boulevardier: 1.5 oz Elijah Craig 12 year Bourbon, .75 oz Carpano Antica sweet vermouth, .75 oz Campari. Rich, spicy vanilla from the aged whiskey, caramel and bitter orange from the vermouth and Campari- leaving me ready to brave the cold outside.

Dan's shift drink after dealing with me?
A bottle of High & Mighty's Beer of the Gods and a shot of Siete Leguas reposado Tequila. Now that sounds elegant, fitting and well deserved. Cheers my friend.

Picon, or Amer Picon, is a French caramel colored bitter aperitif made from dried orange, gentian root, and quinquina. Slightly off-dry and with the orange component dominating, it is sipped before dinner on ice with an orange peel or often consumed with a beer. In fact, the bottle I have is also labeled Biere, there is a Picon Club version which while similar, is more focused on use in cocktails and with white wine.
Invented during the mid-1800s and originally produced in Algeria, Gaetan Picon founded the first French factory (still in operation) outside Marseille. The original recipe was at 40% ABV, and has slowly been reduced to the 18% it is today. Perhaps it may be a shadow of its former self, but it's really quite good, even simply on the rocks.

Approximately $20 in a European supermarket, it is unavailable in the US, I luckily received a bottle from a kind friend returning from Paris. Pretty fun for a bartender, I could actually make a true Brooklyn cocktail 1.5 oz rye, .75 oz dry vermouth, .5 oz Picon, .25 oz maraschino liqueur, orange peel. This drink can very closely be approximated by using the Italian Amaro, Amaro Montenegro, as a substitute, and makes a fine spicy-citus and bittersweet winter warmer. In other words, maybe think of Picon as Bridget Bardot and Amaro Montenegro as Sophia Lauren.

I additionally tried a take on a Hearst cocktail 2 oz gin, 1 oz Picon, 2 dashes of Angostura bitters (because of the orange in Picon I omitted the normal addition of orange bitters). A citrus heavy gin- like Beefeater- works well with the orange flavors, creating a nuanced, flavorful cold weather drink for martini lovers. Also delicious was an ounce of Picon with a short pour of Ipswich winter ale and an orange peel. Clove and orange flavors pleasantly mix with rich maltiness, a perfect winter beer cocktail.

The French 75 is one of my favorite drinks- citrusy, a hint of sweetness, juniper and effervescent - delicious. In 1915 Harry MacElhone created a mix of gin, Champagne, lemon juice and sugar behind the stick at his famous Parisian Harry's New York Bar. The 'kick' of the drink was likened to being shelled by the French 75mm field artillery gun, and the name stuck. Original printed recipes use gin, but there is some debate that the drink is Cognac based (I'm sticking with the 1930 version printed first in the Savoy Cocktail Book).

Great cocktails are all around us, and not just at the very visible well regarded bars. It's certainly a great time to be drinking in Boston. Surprising places, that fly under the radar, have commitment to fresh ingredients and care in their drinks. So, speaking of the French 75, Haru restaurant on Huntington Avenue is celebrating the New Year with a Japanese-French hybrid, their Yuzu French 75. Best part? They will be pouring it through February for only $7- now that's an alliance I can get behind.

Yuzu French 75 1.5 oz Bombay Sapphire, .5 oz lemon juice, .5 oz simple syrup, .25 oz pure yuzu juice (East Asian citrus akin to sour mandarin- looks a bit like a small grapefruit), Champagne float, lemon peel garnish.

If New Age spiritualists are right, the world's going to end soon- December 21st to be exact, but that's their interpretation. We've heard this kind of 'doomsday' thing before, of course, but here's the real deal: Friday ends a 5,125-year cycle called the 'long count' in one Mayan calendar, which scholars say simply ends the calendar and begins another (and who doesn't like a clean slate?).

I certainly plan on paying my mortgage and bills, but false prophets and their accuracy not withstanding, assuming the worst case scenario, I began thinking about what my last drink might be.
Being a cocktail blog, I should pick a clever craft libation, but if all bets were off, probably I’d drink a high end bottle of bubbly like Taittinger Comtes du Champagne which I normally can't afford.
Clearly I better consult an expert.

Beau Sturm, my partner in Trina's Starlite Lounge has, per usual, done the heavy lifting when it comes to liquor knowledge, gave me some insight. He tells me that historians believe the Mayans would offer a liqueur as an offering to the gods called Xtabentun (sh-been-toon)- an anise, fermented honey, Xtabentun flower, rum based spirit. Rumor has it they had some unique ways of imbibing it themselves to get booze in the bloodstream faster- sounds like an early rave. Xtabentun still is made in the Yucatan, and Beau got a hold of some (as my luck would have it) for a drink. He says he "loves the idea of a Mexican Sazerac because the Xtabentun is reminiscent of Herbsaint." He goes further regarding his naming the drink- "easy, because it's the coolest car ever made."
El Camino 2 oz Reposado Tequila, .5 oz Xtabentun, dash of Bittermans Mole bitters (think chocolate), no garnish.

Beau's 'doomsday' cocktail would be a bone dry vodka Martini, 3 olives, ice cold like a stock broker might drink. Why? Because the Fiscal Cliff (also his renaming of the cocktail) scares him much more than the end of the Myan calendar.

Thursday night what I really should do is stop by the great Central Square neighborhood spot, Green Street Grill. Owner Dylan Black has as much claim to the cocktail revolution in Boston as anyone. In fact, the roster of all-star bartenders who have worked with him, at his bar, is like the original Dream Team- and he's Patrick Ewing. While I could pick a variety of beverages from the present day five countries officially celebrating the end of the Mayan calendar; Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras- I'm still craving Tequila. Dylan has suggested my last cocktail, then, should at the very least be a classic, the Rosita 1 oz Blanco Tequila, 1 oz Campari, .5 oz each of sweet and dry vermouth, orange peel. He can read me well- an elegant, bittersweet Negroni variation, a perfect toast before the end of days.
Then, the following week, I'll go in and just have a beer.

Prohibition, of course, is far distant both literally and figuratively from our present day cocktail drinking times. How different would our industry be if it had never happened?
Probably safe to say certain shots and blue drinks of the '80s would not have been born- and I might not be writing this post. But, for 13 years there were no legal drinks sold or consumed in the United States (a side note- distilleries like Four Roses continued on legally for 'medicinal purposes,' my kind of cure). What remains is a uniquely American legacy, and we have finally made up for lost time.

In celebration of its end, a toast tomorrow evening is absolutely mandatory wherever you are. Perhaps at 9:00pm, the 21st hour, celebrating the 21st Amendment to our Constitution. On December 5th, 1933, Utah was ironically the tipping vote, and as they were the 36th state to ratify, at 5:32pm Roosevelt immediately put repeal into effect stating "what America needs now is a drink."
I could not agree more.

I don't know much about grappa except that it's often rough and tumble, prove your bravery type of shot after dinner. Like so many things, boy am I wrong.
Patrick Gaggiano, colleague, manager and bartender at Trina's Starlite Lounge (protecting myself with an Irish-Italian American) and I sat down with
Francesco Calderaro of Winebow, representing Nardini spirits of Northern Italy. He's from Sicily, by the way, so I got information directly from the source.

First of all, grappa is made from distilling the fermented pomace (skins and seeds left from table wine production), or 'vinaccia' in Italian. The substance is a solid, but spongy and delicate- unlike brandy which is distilled from fermented grape juice. That difference makes it inherently rougher, but also gets closer to the essence of the grapes. Nardini utilizes both pot and continuous stills, a vacuum sealed steam still let's them distill at lower temperatures first, extracting the most possible fragrance and flavor from the pomace.
Bortolo Nardini arrived in Bassano del Grappa in 1779 (about 75km northwest of Verona), traveling from Trentino. The headquarters are located in the original Grapperia on the bridge of the town, operated by the seventh generation of the Nardini family. Focus is, and always has been on quality. Many producers rely on spectacularly ornate glass bottles to sell product- Nardini is about what's inside and prefers classic simple elegance and tradition. Their spirit label even continues to include the old reference to Italian 'water of life' (eau de vie in French)- Aquavite. Certainly grappa did have humble beginnings as a by product of wine making, but if as many producers showed this kind of care it would be discussed in more reverent tones like Cognac.

The Grappa Bianca, is crystal clear, coming directly from the still with no barrel aging, much like a blanco Tequila. Pinot Griggio, Tocai, and Cabernet Sauvignon grapes are harvested between the Brenta and Piave rivers- premium grapes make a premium spirit. This idea is much like my chef friends who insist on only cooking with a wine they would also like to drink. 50% alcohol is obvious, but there is a generous floral nose from the grapes. Tasting it's more gentle, thanks to quality distillation- lemon, tea, honeyed flavors- an excellent digestif after dinner or mixer in, yes, cocktails. Check out ilovegrappa.com for an extensive history of grappa and some terrific cocktails by the legendary Dale Degroff. Think of using it as an alternative to brandy or pisco in drinks.

The Grappa Riserva has been aged for five years in Slovonian oak, giving it a pale straw/gold coloring and enhancing the honeyed character with vanilla. It seems rounder, softer and more delicate; less of a shot, more of a sip in a snifter. Think Madonna's 'Lucky Star' for the Bianca, 'Like a Prayer' for the Riserva. Yup, I said it.

Grappa alla Ruta is the Bianca that has been infused with Rue grown in the foothills surrounding Lake Garda for a year. The fragrance and flavor is distinctively herbal and I'd imagine it is one of those things you love or hate, not much in between, like Cilantro. I love it by the way. The Ruta would be a great substitute for Chartreuse- think Rye 1.5oz, Nardini Grappa alla Ruta .75oz, and Maraschino Liqueur .5oz, dash of orange bitters (a take on the Green Point cocktail).

Grappa alla Mandorla is also the Bianca, this time with bitter almond essences rounded with distilled cherry juice. It's like brandy meets amaretto- intense, bitter with slight sweetness- delicious! Try this:
Agro di Gaggiano: Nardini Mandorla 1.5oz, lemon juice .5oz, simple syrup .5oz, 1 egg white, topped with orange and Angostura bitters. Dry shake (no ice) the Nardini, simple and egg white vigorously. Add lemon juice, ice and then re-shake. Strain into a coup or wine glass, top with bitters. If you are afraid of the raw egg you can substitute pasteurized egg white which is widely available at grocery stores.

Finally, if you've gotten this far, I have to give a nod to Nardini's Tagliatella. It was created accidentally a century ago when the distillery sold products on tap. As various handles were used, they had a propensity to loosen and drip- waste not, want not- they barreled the drippings. Like the pasta 'Taglia' is a 'cut' or appropriately here a cocktail of all their distillates. It was also what people were drinking to save a little money- I like this idea of a hugely popular cocktail of the people- kind of the original bar mat shooter. Over the years, of course, the technique changed to be an infusion of grappa, cherry juice, orange and other aromatic components. Fruity but very well balanced, I tried it as a sweet vermouth substitute in a Manhattan- the bitter-sweet cherry really stands out- fantastic!
Even better was Francesco's analysis: "it is a holiday in a bottle!"