Sazerac

The book starts with a section called "Classics". Probably a good place to start and ease my way into this. I write down a couple of ingredients I'm missing for the first three drinks - nothing too exotic since we're in "Classics". On our way home for dinner with my twelve year-old daughter I tell her we're going to stop by the local liquor store. She groans saying "I hate the way that place smells." "You've never been in this store," I respond. "I hate the way every liquor store you take me too smells." This does indeed make me sound like an alcoholic. I'm not. Really. In her defense, I will say that we used to live in Virginia and the liquor stores are state run - they smell like state run stores. In my defense, I will say that we've lived in our current house for six months and this is my first foray into the local liquor store.

The store looks like it could be state run, but the difference becomes evident almost immediately - a voice asks if I need help finding anything. I start with the Pernod. He wheels to the side and points to the Pernod, which is not actually Pernod, but Ricard. He shows me the shelf label marked Pernod, but can't find any Pernod. I take the Ricard. He tells me to drink it with "this much very cold water" indicating two inches with his fingers. I remember drinking this on an exchange trip to France when I was fifteen. The water and liqueur turn gray when mixed. I dumped mine into a plant. The salesman is French. He tries to speak french with my daughter. She doesn't bite.
Cointreau is next. This I would actually stock on my own. The last liquor is Laird's apple brandy. They have two bottles. He tells me that the Laird's saleswoman was in today and he assured her that he would buy more next week. Finally, I ask for some POM pomegranate juice. He tells me that his wife makes him drink some every day adding "as I don't get enough antioxidants!" Sadly we can't find it and another employee tells him that they don't carry it. The salesman is very apologetic - "the grocery stores all have it - we should have it." He's done some thinking and Pernod, Cointreau, Laird's and pomegranate juice don't add up to a cocktail he knows. He asks what drink I need the pomegranate juice for. I tell him I'm making my own grenadine. He's intrigued. I check out - $95, but I'm undeterred.

At home I crack the book open to page 22 the Sazerac. I chill a glass using ice water and get the other ingredients ready. This drink is based on rye whiskey. My in-laws drink Manhattans every night. Whenever they come to town they bring rye and vermouth just in case we've run out. Prior to this evening I have never touched their Canadian Club in their absence, so I've got quite a stockpile. I'm also not a fan of their Manhattans, so I'm not optimistic about the Sazerac. I'm also not thrilled about having bought a $28 bottle of Ricard to "coat the glass and pour out any excess." I am undeterred. The glass is cold and slightly wet from the ice water. The Ricard turns gray as it mixes with the residual water. Ah memories. I also accidentally splash some bitters on the book. I guess I own it now. The directions tell me to "stir" but I use my shaker. I know James Bond likes his martini's "shaken, not stirred." Now I've shaken when I was supposed to stir. I wonder if there are stir snobs. I garnish with a lemon twist.

The first sip is ... not bad. Pretty good actually. I can taste the Ricard but it's not overwhelming. Perhaps the teaspoon of sugar has taken the edge off the Rye. I officially declare it a not bad drink. I'm tempted to give it a 3.5 on my five point scale, but I'm also committed to not being overly precise. I decide to give it a 3 so I have room to go up - just like a figure skating competition.

Rating: 3; Difficulty: Easy all around