The Hampden Highball: A Cocktail That's Fittingly Spicy, Sassy and Smooth

When I decided a few weeks back that I was going to fashion a cocktail for each race of the Triple Crown, I knew that of the three, creating a drink worthy of the Preakness was going to be the most daunting task. I'd lived in Baltimore for nearly eleven years. I'd moved there right outta college, and in true poetic form (though not Poe's form) those days were the best of times and they were the worst of times. Since "Baltimore, The City That Reads," was a campaign that was just breaking when I parked my Uhaul at the corner of Cathedral and Center Streets, I'll continue with the literary allusions. What made those years the worst of times proved Tolstoy right: Bad relationships - whether with people, a job, even a town - are unique to each individual. Each person has their own gripe. But what made those years the best of times is something that is fairly universal: The joy we experience from our friendships. And even though I currently live on the other side of the country, the people that I met while living in Baltimore remain my friends to this day. They are still some of the most creative, talented, brilliant and funny souls I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. So I knew honoring those friends in a cocktail created for The Preakness was going to be a heavy and humbling task. 

I was set on only one ingredient: The drink had to include one of the soda's made my Stewart's. But what went into the cocktail after that? That's where I was stumbling. Fortunately, I'd just learned a big lesson about mixing drinks. And it came in a very small glass. 

We had recently attended a party in honor of "Peep's Corner," the latest print to be released by our friend, the artist and San Francisco fixture, Brian Barneclo (who just so happened to design the banner you see above.) The gathering was at Rye, one of the best watering holes in town, and I figured I'd take advantage of the expertise behind the bar. So when Douglas Williams, the aptly titled Liquid Alchemist, came over to take my order, I shrugged and said "Surprise me." And boy, did he. Doug mixed a drink that I can only describe as putting the "wow" in whiskey sour. He used rye, lemon juice, a little agave nectar, and some bitters. It was sublime. When I expressed my amazement over the balance of the drink, Doug essentially explained that if you have the right ingredients, at the right temperatures, the flavors will develop on their own. 

I remembered Doug's words as I went about creating The Hampden Highball, named for one of my favorite neighborhoods in Charm City. As I said, I wanted to use one of Stewart's sodas since the company was a Baltimore institution, but beyond that I was stumped. I'd hoped initially to create something with Stewart's Creme, or maybe Stewart's Key Lime. Why those flavors? Because mixing a successful cocktail out of the famous Stewart's Root Beer just seemed totally beyond my grasp of flavors. (For now.) 

In the end I relied on Stewart's Ginger Beer. Many memorable nights were spent with some of my best Baltimore friends drinking Jim Beam mixed with ginger beer (or ginger ale if we couldn't find any of the former.) Starting with that as the base I then added a little vanilla extract to pay homage to Stewart's Creme Soda, and some bitters in honor of the many cocktails I'd consumed at the now defunct-Memory Lane as well as at the legendary Club Charles.  I took the first sip. And it was awful. So, I took a second sip. Still just as bad. I decided to pour it over ice. It was then that I turned to my default garnish of choice - a healthy squirt of fresh lime. I gave the juice a quick stir into and under the ice, took a sip, and smiled. I think, though I can't be entirely, I had mixed a drink that would have made Doug - but especially my Baltimore friends - proud. 

I'm not going to question how those flavors came together. All I know is that somewhere in those chips of ice, the ingredients enacted an alchemy all their own. 

The Hampden Highball 

For the cocktail....

4 oz Stewart's Ginger Beer (if you need to use Ginger Ale, that's fine, just know that it won't have the same bite.)

2 oz Bourbon (Jim Beam or Maker's Mark will work best.)

A dash of vanilla extract (less than 1/8 tsp)

2 (or more) dashes of bitters

1 squirt of lime (squeezing out the juice from a quartered wedge should do the trick.)

For the garnish... 

Lime wheel

Vanilla bean (if you get these at Costco they are much less pricey.)

1. Pour ice in glass to halfway.

2. In a mixing glass add ginger beer, then bourbon. Add dash of vanilla (use a measuring spoon to get the "less than 1/8 tsp" if necessary) and then a few dashes of bitters. Stir.

3. Pour over ice. Squirt lime juice into glass. Give another stir. Garnish. Enjoy responsibly!  

Limey Bastards, or How Bitter Citrus Nearly Sunk My First Cinco de Mayo Cake!

I don't think Cinco de Mayo is a day usually associated with panic -  unless of course you were French in 1862 and on the losing side at Puebla - but the impending observance of this week's holiday was cause for some serious chaos in my kitchen yesterday. By the end of the day, all wrongs were righted, but not before I learned a few valuable lessons. The first is never wait until the last minute to test a recipe; the second is don't get cocky; and the last is know your produce.

The trouble started about a week ago when I got all caked up on what I thought was a great idea for a Cinco de Mayo dessert. Go ahead and boo the bad pun, but the only white powder I indulge in, at this age, is confectioner's sugar. Anyway, when some of our  neighbors asked if we wanted to get together for the Fifth, I excitedly accepted their invitation. After all, I already knew what I was going to make - a Tequila Lime Glazed Cornmeal Cake! What better occasion than Cinco de Mayo for this cake to have its debut! It seemed festive and fitting, and if everything went well my own kitchen could have a new annual tradition. As of yesterday morning I had yet to give the recipe its test run, and while I had never actually made this tequila glaze before, I wasn't all that concerned.  I mean really, how could it fail? I was making a margarita, more or less, on top of a cake. I knew these ingredients fairly well, I was adapting a recipe I'd made before, and as I thought about how complimentary all of the flavors would be, I asked myself again, "What could possibly go wrong?" 

If I ever write a memoir, those last five words are going to be the first sentence in a chapter entitled "When Good Recipes Go Bad." 

So, what went wrong? The limes. Now, bitter isn't a flavor I necessarily find objectionable, but this...  This was unlike any bitterness I'd experienced before. I want to describe its ghastliness in words that should never appear in a food blog. Allow me to interject that I cook with limes all the time. I love their versatility and I especially love their clean, bright flavor. But there was nothing bright about these inedible green gremlins. I wondered how an ingredient I thought I knew so well could turn into such a stranger. And such an unpleasant one at that. A little research gave me my answer. 

"A single citrus tree can be turned into a carnival with lemons, limes, grapefruits, tangerines, kumquats and oranges all ripening on its branches at the same," John McPhee wrote in his book, Oranges. And like a lot of other citrus, limes are often grown from branches, or sports, that have been grafted from one tree onto another. For instance, most lemons grown in California are grown on orange tree rootstocks. So in the case of my limes, if their original sport, or volunteer - as a to-be-grafted shoot taken from one tree is called - had any sour orange, bitter lime or even Rough Lemon parentage in their lineage, or rootstock, there was a chance that the fruit the sport produced might be equally bitter in the future. 

In the end it seems a little unfair to fault these limes for their flavor. There is, as it turns out, a legitimacy to their bitterness. They didn't ask to sprout from that particular family tree. But still, can I blame the bastards for ruining my cake? Absolutely. 

A re-do, with limes purchased from a different store, produced excellent results. What follows is an adaptation from a recipe that appeared in Bon Appetit magazine's April issue of this year. I am providing my version below. I've found this formula to stand up well to almost any flavorings and spices you want to throw at it. Um, except really, really bitter limes.

Tequila Lime Glazed Cornmeal Cake 

For the cake... 

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour

1/3 cup yellow cornmeal (I used Bob's Red Mill, Medium Grain)

3/4 cup sugar

1 TBS plus 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup buttermilk, almost room temp (see NOTES)

2 large eggs, room temp

1 TBS plus 1 tsp lime zest

3/4 tsp vanilla extract

1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted, cooled to room temp (plus more for buttering pan)

For the glaze...

1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted (be prepared to add extra if glaze needs thickened)

2 TBS fresh lime juice

1 to 2 TBS tequila 

1. Preheat oven to 350F. Butter sides and bottom of a 9 inch cake pan - I use a spring form - and line bottom with parchment paper. 

2. Combine flour, cornmeal, baking powder, sugar and salt in bowl. Stir well. (Rather than sifting, I placed these in a large strainer and tapped them through into the bowl. The cornmeal will not completely go through the holes but more on that in NOTES.) 

3. Whisk together the eggs, buttermilk, lime zest, and vanilla in a separate bowl. 

4. Pour liquid mixture into bowl with flour and cornmeal mix. Fold the two batches into one another. Do not overmix. Stop to occasionally scrape sides and fold back in. Pour into prepared cake pan and slide onto center rack of your oven. 

5. While cake is baking, mix together the powdered sugar, tequila and lime juice. The less liquid you use the thicker the glaze is going to be. You don't want it to be clumpy but you don't want it to be runny, either. (I did not add any extra sugar for my glaze on the cake in the pic above.) Set aside. Bake about 30 minutes or until inserted toothpick comes out clean. If you use a spring form pan you won't have any trouble with the releasing and inverting of the cake onto a wire rack, then turning right side up again. If not, slide a wire rack under your cake pan and turn upside down to release the cake. Use pot holders or oven mitts while doing this. Place another rack on top (which is actually the bottom) of the cake, then flip again. 

6. Place cake on server. If glaze has thickened, give it another stir. Begin spooning glaze onto the cake. If the cake is too hot, like seconds out of the pan, if your glaze isn't thick enough it can either drip off the surface without adhering or it sink down into the cake. (I had that happen once.) Spread evenly across top to the edge. Some of the glaze will run down the side (no matter what the original recipe might say.) 

NOTES: When combining the dry ingredients I tried to, for lack of another description, grate the bits of cornmeal through the strainer that still remained in the sieve. The result looked like yellow dust. Still the larger grains remained and I probably could've pushed all of them through if I had about, oh, an hour, to continue to do so. Now I've experimented with bringing the buttermilk and the eggs almost to room temperature ever since I made this cake the first time and the cold milk caused the melted butter to get clumpy. Regarding the glaze, after I placed it on the cake I immediately sat it in front of a fan to force the liquid to set. It worked, but it also caused small cracks to form on the surface.  

Shaken & Stirred: This Hanoi Mojito Rocks!

Because I am not professionally trained, I'm more than just slightly hesitant to call myself a cook or a chef. I'm even less inclined to call myself a bartender. Or a mixologist. But I do believe that if you have a general understanding of the way flavors interact you can create a meal out of just about anything. Same goes for a cocktail. And last evening? I came up with a winner, if I do say so myself. 

First, let me set the scene by saying that yesterday morning I was a little mopey after learning that Morrissey had cancelled last night's show at The Paramount. And if I'm really being honest I will have to admit that I was still a bit disappointed that we weren't attending Coachella this year. So despite the beautiful weather, I was feeling kinda glum. By the time Lon walked in the door carrying the haul from yesterday's farmer's market, my mind was set: I was going to spend the day dicing, slicing, simmering, chopping, blending and boiling my sadness away. 

Like many people, I find great comfort in the kitchen when I'm feeling low. I can log - and lose - hours creating new recipes and fine-tuning old ones. And, on occasion, I've been known to turn my attention away from the dinner table and focus on the cocktail table instead. My endeavors have produced, ahem, mixed results. While I like to create signature cocktails to coincide with different events, it's doubtful that you've ever heard of The Orange Lotus (made in honor of a Chinese New Year's Eve dinner a few years back;) The Gentlemen's Prerogative (created on the fly with a limited liquor cabinet at the beach one summer while trying to recall my friend Larry's creation, The Handsome Gentlemen;) or, my favorite, The Bloody Nose (a horribly-named, but tasty, raspberry-based concoction I came up with when we had friends over to watch Liddell vs Couture II.) 

Like I said, it's doubtful you've ever heard of these, unless you were there to partake of them. 

Given our grounded status for the weekend, combined with the bounty Lon brought back from the farmer's market, the afternoon looked like a perfect opportunity to experiment. I called my taste-testers and asked them to have their palates, and opinions, ready by 6 PM. I flicked on the "Work In Progress" light over The Folsom Test Kitchen and got to work. 

Of all the produce that came in through the door yesterday morning, the thing that really caught my eye was something Lon said the vendor at the market identified as Vietnamese coriander. A little research informed me that it's also called Vietnamese Cilantro, or Rau Ram. (One of my favorite salads has Rau Ram and I now feel one step closer to recreating it, but more on that in a later post.)

There was something about the light texture of the herb's leaves and its clean but slightly peppery fragrance that made me want to use it in a cocktail. It looked and smelled so refreshing. And just like that, my decision was made. I was going to create a variation of a Mojito. Since I was using a classic cocktail template, I decided to call it the Hanoi Mojito (after briefly kicking around the name Hanoi Rox, because once a music geek, always a music geek.) 

I made two versions of the Hanoi. The first had lime, the second had lemon. The lime version won out, three to one, but I thought both were good. My vote went to the lime simply because I thought its citrus flavor balanced the other flavors out the best. 

The overall verdict? The drink was so refreshing, it just seemed to scream "Spring!" But of course since I hate shouting I had to silence its exuberance by quickly emptying the glass.  

OK, without any further rambling from me, here's the recipe! Enjoy responsibly, please!

The Hanoi Mojito 

For the simple syrup....

2 cups water

1 1/2 cups sugar

1/4 cup chopped ram rau leaves, loosely packed

1/4 cup lemon grass, chopped, outer stalks removed first

2 TBS fresh ginger root, chopped 

For the cocktail... 

1 Liter Vodka, chilled (I used Grey Goose just because that was what was on hand)

1 bottle Pellegrino mineral water or seltzer or club soda, chilled

herb-infused simple syrup from above

1 lime, cut into quarter wedges, then cut in half again (or 1 lemon, cut similarly)

1 bunch, approximately half cup, clean ram rau leaves, coarsely chopped (leave some whole if you want to add some drama to the glass!)

Crushed ice

For the garnish

Lime wedges, inner stalk of lemon grass as a swizzle, ram rau leaves left whole

1. To make the herb-infused syrup place the sugar and water in a pot over medium heat, stir til sugar dissolves. Bring to a boil. Stir in the ram rau, lemon grass and ginger. Bring back to a boil and cook for approximately a minute. Turn heat down to simmer, and allow herbs to infuse the syrup for approximately twenty minutes. Turn off heat, and allow to steep for at least an hour. Taste. If the syrup doesn't taste properly infused, then bring back to a boil, and repeat. Be careful not to over boil as the syrup will turn bitter. Set aside and allow to cool.

2. In bottom of a rocks glass place coarsely chopped ram rau leaves. Put lime (or lemon) wedges on top of leaves and pour in one jigger (approximately two ounces) of the simple syrup. Using a wooden spoon, the palm end of a hand-held citrus juicer, or even the bottom of a small shot glass, mash the lime and leaves so that the oils and juice are released from both. You should have a nice pulpy mess in the bottom of the glass when you're finished.

3. Add to the glass one jigger of mineral water or soda water. Add a few pieces of crushed ice. Stir.

4. Top with one jigger of vodka. Stir well. Garnish with lime (or lemon,) a thin stalk of lemon grass as a swizzle, and a few whole leaves of the ram rau. Enjoy! 

NOTES: While I used mineral water, I think seltzer or club soda might have actually been better. I think their higher sodium content would have mixed well with the peppery nature of the ram rau and the slight sting of the ginger and lemon grass in the simple syrup. Either way, the effervescence gave a nice buoyancy to all of the ingredients. I called this a mojito because of the similarities in their means of preparation, not because of similarities in ingredients.

Vegan Tuesday: Stir-Fried Chinese Long Beans w/ Peanuts and Tofu

The challenge I've set for myself in the kitchen these past few weeks is to use as many on-hand ingredients as possible. Since I work at home I love the social aspect of making daily trips to Good Life, my neighborhood grocery store. It's a chance to pick up the odds and ends I need for each night's dinner but it's also a nice opportunity to bump into neighbors. While these trips are good for my spirit, they're not always, unfortunately, good for my wallet. 

So as I looked at the beautiful Chinese Long Beans we'd procured during the weekend trip to the farmer's market, I hoped I'd be able to prepare them with ingredients I already had in the fridge and on my shelves. 

I successfully met my self-imposed guidelines and I managed to make a quick and flavorful dinner for this week's Vegan Tuesday in the process! The meal also gave me a chance to break in my new wok. (It's no longer that beautiful metallic blue color, so this pic was definitely snapped "before" I broke it in.) One of these days I'm going to listen to Tehn at The Wok Shop in Chinatown and graduate to the hand-hammered woks she has in her store.

Well, without any further yammering from me, here's the recipe - I'd also challenged myself to make this post as quick as this dish's preparation!

Stir-Fried Chinese Long Beans w/ Peanuts and Tofu 

1/2 lb Chinese Long Beans (or green beans)

1/4 cup dry roasted peanuts, coarsely ground 

1 cup dry roasted peanuts (do not grind or chop these)

1 TBS grated, fresh ginger root

5 cloves of garlic, minced

1 tsp fresh lime zest (or more to taste)

1 tsp kosher salt

2 tsp ground coriander

1/4 tsp red pepper flakes 

8 oz extra firm tofu, sliced into cubes 

1 TBS vegetable oil (I used canola)

Lime wedges

1. Put a medium-sized pot, large enough to hold the beans, on to boil. As water heats, clean long beans and snip off any knobby tips. When water boils, dunk beans into pot and allow to cook for approximately 2 minutes. Plunge the beans into an ice bath or run under cold water to help keep them crisp and also to stop the cooking process. When they've cooled to the touch, cut them into pieces about two and a half inches in length. 

2. Heat wok, then add oil. As wok is heating, quickly mix the ground peanuts, ginger, garlic, lime zest, salt, coriander and pepper flakes in a small bowl. 

3. When oil is hot add the peanuts and spice mix to walk and stir-fry rapidly. Make sure your kitchen is well-ventilated and don't put your face directly over the wok! The fumes from this mixture are going to have a sting to them! When the bits of garlic and ginger look like they've begun to brown, scoop the mix out of the wok. 

4. Add more oil to wok if needed. Make sure excess water is shaken off of the long beans, then add to wok and stir-fry. When the beans begin to get black on the ridges, add remaining 1 cup of peanuts. Stir to heat through. Add the peanut and spice mix back to the wok, and toss over heat to mix well. Add the cubes of tofu to the beans, peanuts and spice mix and quickly stir-fry. Extra firm tofu will stand up well to this kind of heat, and handling, but I would only cook for about a minute or two, just enough to heat. Remove wok from heat source. Serve with lime wedges over rice or noodles or simply eat as is!

NOTES: If you can't find Chinese Long Beans, green beans will work just as well. If you do opt to substitute them, I would advise blanching and stir-frying them a little longer since they're thicker than the long beans I used. I keep an extra coffee bean grinder in my kitchen for grinding dried chili peppers, nuts, that sort of thing. You could also use a small food processor to grind the peanuts, or you could chop finely if you're that skilled with a knife. (I am not!) Also, I love lime juice and lime zest, so if you want to add more lime zest go right ahead. I love its clean, bright flavor. I used canola oil for the stir-fry but I gave some thought to using the sesame oil on my shelf. I decided that I didn't want that heavy flavor so I opted for the canola.