I was a little rattled last night when cocktail hour rolled around because I had just finished chopping up a bell pepper that actually turned out to be a poblano pepper. Needless to say, the pepper juice ended up in my eye, so my left eyelid was swollen, my eye was watering fiercly, and I was in a fair amount of pain.
I proceeded with cocktail hour, though, because the show must go on!
Last night’s drink was the Tom Collins. The Tom Collins is basically the same as a Gin Fizz only it is stirred and poured over ice instead of shaken. Also, according to my book, the ratio of gin to water in the Tom Collins is a bit higher on the gin side.
I followed the recipe and added ice to frosty glasses. I had to use tumblers because I still cannot find the proper tall, narrow glasses. I hit three different stores that sell barware and only found wine, flute, martini and marguerita glasses. Apparently, I am the only person serving classic cocktails at home in this town, or the only one who doesn’t already have the proper glasses. Either way I have a time issue – I’m either ahead of the times or behind the times – or perhaps both in that I’m ressurecting old cocktails for the sake of new blogging technology.
Anyway, back to the frosty glasses of ice. I added the juice of half a squeezed lemon and two measures of gin to each glass. So far, so good. (I still need cheesecloth as the lemon juice was a tad pulpy and the pulp clung to the ice chips.) I then added a teaspon of superfine baker’s sugar and stirred. Well, the sugar immediately glommed onto the ice, which already had pulp glommed onto it. This caused some sort of chemical reaction that resulted in white, papery tendrils floating off of the ice cubes and it looked quite disgusting. I tasted the mixture and immediately choked. Yikes! Talk about sour! I stirred some more, turning the ice cubes over and over, but the mixture just got nastier. Finally I dumped it out and found that a thick layer of sugar remained on the bottom of the glass.
For a momemt, I thought I’d just forget this whole thing. I can’t find glasses, I can’t find short straws, there is hardly room in the freezer for all this gin, no food goes with gin, I’ve never particularly liked gin (the cat’s out of the bag now), and I’m going to be drinking it for pretty much the rest of the year. But then, I thought, this is only the second drink. This is only the second night. The show must go on! Besides, if I wasn’t going to be part of the solution – then I’d be part of the precipitate, and that is just not acceptable.
So, I got out a large glass measuring cup. At this point Hubby sauntered into the kitchen and sniffed the air. His face turned ashen and he spun on his heels to face me. His lips curled into a snarl and he spoke with a growl “Gin’s been wasted!” Even though our college had no fraternities, he somehow has developed the skill of knowing when booze has been wasted. It was both sad and impressive.
I ignored him, though. I was all focus, and squeezed another lemon into the measuring cup. I added 4 measures of gin. I added two teaspoons of regular sugar. I stirred. I stirred more. I stirred in the opposite direction. I stirred high. I stirred low. I stirred fast. I stirred slow. I stirred with a spoon. I stirred by the moon. Finally. The sugar seemed dissolved. I tasted — much better. Not as sour. I poured over ice in not-so-chilled-anymore tumblers. I added just a measure-and-a-half of seltzer to each tumbler. I plunked a sunny half-slice of lemon, carefully de-seeded into each glass. I still have no short straws and since I was using tumblers, the long straws were too long – so I went sans straws. Despite this omission, the drinks were attractive and classic looking. I liked how the ice clinked against the glass and the heft of the tumblers felt good in my hands.
I set the Tom Collins’ on the cocktail table, turned on some Frank Sinatra and snuggled down onto the couch. Hubby and I toasted, then sipped.
Diagnosis: Hubby’s immediate response was, “Woooooooohooooooooo, now this is what I’m talkin’ about!!!” Apparently the Tom Collins satisfied the gin to seltzer ratio that the Gin Fizz had left wanting. My first sip left me thinking “There is no way I’m going to finish this drink.” Five minutes and several sips later I started thinking, “You know, this Tom Collins is delicious.” The small talk was rolling. In fact, the small talk was rolling a little too far. After a pretty inappropriate discussion of the attractiveness of the various judges on the show Celebrity Fit Club, we both exclaimed, pratically simultaneously “This Tom Collins is kicking my ass!!!”
Once the giddiness subsided and I cleared the drained tumblers from the table, I realized the poblano chili induced swelling and weeping of my eye had subsided. Maybe the Dutch had something with this medicinal use of gin!