VittlesVamp

The Garibaldi

Whatever you do, don't simply call this drink a Campari & OJ. Technically, in terms of ingredients, you would be correct. But, this cocktail is much more than the sum of its parts.

The recipe is from Manhattan's Dante, heralded for its Negroni expertise - so I wasn't surprised that they know their way around Campari.

The recommendation came from the owners of Durham, North Carolina bar Kingfisher during one of their virtual happy hours on IG Live. I was a bit incredulous when it was suggested - but the devil is in the details. In this case, that means proportions and technique.

Are you a bit incredulous too? Don't blame you. Check out the recipe here and let me know what you think.

Have a feeling you'll be drinking Garibaldi cocktails this summer - bristling if anyone tries to simply call it a Campari & OJ!

Variations On A Theme

We often have a tendency to gild the lily when it comes to recipes. (I've seen many a sad cookie chockablock with wayward ingredients. It's painful.) So, typically, I try to keep the integrity of a recipe in check.

But that doesn't mean that variations are verboten. Sometimes something small can make it your own. Or as Ina Garten likes to say - turn up the volume!

I recently did just that with a Brown Butter-Cinnamon Crumb Cake recipe that caught my eye. The addition of fresh blueberries...

...didn't distract from the gorgeous crumb and added a sweet, summery burst of berry flavor to the cake.

And cocktail recipes also offer a chance to tweak and adapt to your taste. Case in point: a recipe for a Straw Dog cocktail from Death & Co, which called for a fresh strawberry and Scotch, among other ingredients. I had neither at hand. (Also, to be honest, I don't really care for the peaty taste of Scotch.) But, then I found a variation that appealed...

...a spin on the recipe, found on Food52...

It substituted the strawberry for a slice of ripe peach and the Scotch for Bourbon.

Oh, hellz-to-the-yes! This drink is freaking brilliant!

Soon, I'll be at it again - adapting the classic Negroni by switching out Campari for Forthave Spirits Red. Will it be delicious? Will I need to stir up a second drink with Campari to compare-and-contrast? All quite possible.

But, no gilding the lily here. Variations are one thing. Lilies belong in gardens and occasionally in vases. No gilding necessary.

My Parisian Pandemic - In Brooklyn (Merci Monsieur Lebovitz)

I was supposed to go to Paris late March. Supposed to go. Didn't go.

Perhaps that is why I discovered David Lebovitz's Instagram Live "Apero Hour" from Paris, a civilized and joyful respite from the pandemic, 12noon Eastern, Monday through Saturday.

Well before all this, I had been an admirer of Lebovitz. Earlier in his career he was a cook and pastry chef at Berkeley's Chez Panisse. He moved to Paris decades ago and has been writing about his experiences - glorious and exasperating and everything in-between - ever since. I had often cooked recipes from My Paris Kitchen and enjoyed reading his memoir-meets-cookbook called The Sweet Life in Paris, but it wasn't until I stumbled on his genius recipe for Almond Cake that I became an ardent fan. It's the bombdiggity! Just let one mere crumb of this dessert past your lips and you will instantly become a fan girl (or fan guy)!

His "Apero Hour" IG Lives began as a substitute for a book tour to promote his latest tome - Drinking French. The COVID-19 crisis had most of the world in lockdown, so instead of visiting bookstores to talk about the cocktails, apéritifs, spirits, and other drinks that are the cornerstone of French café and bar life, he took to Instagram. At 6pm Paris time he makes a drink from his Parisian kitchen - sometimes accompanied in-person by his utterly charming partner Romain. And, once in a while, he is joined remotely by a guest bartender, distiller, or another drinks-focused author, who could be located anywhere in the wilds of France or the deepest darkest depths of Brooklyn.

It has become appointment viewing for me.

As a result, I've purchased some new cocktail ingredients - including Plantation Stiggins' Fancy Pineapple Rum (who knew it was made by the French?). I have shaken and stirred a new range of drinks for sipping during Zoom happy hours and alike. I have made Lebovitz's Rosemary Gimlet, followed his recipes for making a Montparnasse, The White Lady, and a Daiquiri (using the aforementioned pineapple-infused rum - YUM!). I also tried my hand at drink recipes offered by his guests, including a stellar Margarita from Ivy Mix of Brooklyn's Leyenda and the bitter and brilliant Tunnel Cocktail from Franck Audoux, the owner of Cravan in Paris (snapshot of my rendition above.)

In addition, I connect with a makeshift community of sorts when I log on. Several of us "regulars" chime in and chatter with each other, as well as David, in an effort to make "Apero Hour" our own.

And, lest you think that I've solely been imbibing thanks to Mr. Lebovitz, I can attest to the fact that I have been trying more of his food recipes too. In fact, his Shallot Marmalade...

...is up there in genius, swoon-worthy territory. And, his "Apero Hour" featuring French cheeses, inspired me to buy a serious slice of Brie de Meaux to go alongside some of the marmalade.

Sure I will be exploring more of his recipes - and those he recommends - in the coming weeks. I have already added certain spots like the bar Combat and the Fédération Française de l'Apéritif to my Paris map for when I can finally return to the City of Lights. Until then, and for as long as he'll allow, I will be virtually visiting David Lebovitz's kitchen for my fix of France.

Merci, David Lebovitz! Merci!

Beer Never Broke My Heart

Some of you may know the killer country tune by Luke Combs - "Beer Never Broke My Heart."

Admittedly, a beer hasn't broken my heart, but it takes quite the specimen to win it over.

So, I was delighted at the prospect of tasting some superlative brews at a tasting put together by Peter LaFrance, a local beer authority and author. He is the man behind the site Beer Basics and regularly is in front of the camera filming a series of tastings at the Henry Street Ale House in Brooklyn Heights. Three beers were to be sampled. I was more than obliged to partake - and even bring some nibbles to go with the various brews on hand. (Are you surprised by that? You shouldn't be!)

My fave among the three? A sour beauty - Area Two Experimental Brewery's Synopsis Blueberry and Acai. And, yes, it was brilliant with the pairing of blue cheese and blackberries that I brought along.

Do I expect to be drinking more beer in the future? Frankly, these days I expect to be drinking more than my fair share of many things - and hoping to have some more of that Synopsis sour soon. And, I'll take a little solace in this catchy number from Thomas Rhett - "Ain't Nothing That A Beer Can't Fix."

The Happy Accident

There's nothing like screwing up ingredients in a tried-and-true recipe to discover a new one. Such was the case with a drink recipe I accidentally created and aptly named The Happy Accident. Refreshing, with a tart edge married to a bittersweet finish, I've happily have been shaking these up all summer.

The one ingredient that might be hard to locate at your local liquor store is Cynar, the Italian amaro made of artichokes. Trust me, it is worth seeking out. Besides, if it's made of artichokes, doesn't this drink count as a vegetable? It's practically a health tonic!

The Happy Accident

1 ounce Gin
1 ounce Cynar
1 ounce Aperol
1 ounce lemon juice

Shake. Strain into a rocks glass with ice. Garnish with a lemon peel. Serve.

My Winery in Tuscany

It's impossible not to fall in love with the hills surrounding San Gimignano.

I fell. I fell hard. My tumble was complete when I visited the vineyard above - Fattoria di Fugnano.

It was hard to resist the urge to stay outside to admire the scenery, but was eventually coaxed indoors for lunch and a wine tasting.

Happily, the table looked very promising...

Wafer thin slices of salumi, and wedges of sharp pecorino were surrounding a perfectly ripe and runny slab of gorgonzola on an oversized platter. Further down the table, a wooden slab paddle board held slices of bread, lightly glossed with fresh butter, each topped with the salty swirl of an anchovy

Now, was the time for corks to be popped, glasses to be poured, swirled and sipped.

Bottle after bottle, a joyous bear of a man named Jacob led us through the tasting. Vernaccia and Chianti. Blends of Chardonnay and Vernaccia, and Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. Pure ruby red Sangiovese and a Spumante Rose made with Sangiovese as well..

I ordered a case to be sent to me back in Brooklyn. Are you surprised? You shouldn't be. If anything, you should be wrangling for an invite to my next dinner party, so you can enjoy a sip or two.

But today, I have to raise a toast to Jacob - and most especially to the inspiring Laura Dell'Aira, who is the winemaker and vineyard owner behind Fattoria di Fugnano. My glass is raised in salute, and let me say (in broken Italian) - La bellezza della tua fattoria sarebbe stata sufficiente per meritare i miei ringraziamenti, ma il tuo vino abbagliante e la calorosa accoglienza hanno guadagnato la mia più profonda gratitudine.

My Bar in Florence

In order to feel like I know a city, I need to have found a bar. Not any bar. A bar that speaks to me. Sometimes it can be a wine bar or brew pub, but more often than not it is a cocktail lounge, a place that lets me embrace my inner cocktail nerd.

Who am I kidding? Out-and-about cocktail nerd.

And, so, I needed to find my bar in Florence. It took a few nights and then I found it: Manifattura. It's a slip of a bar, dark and elegant, with a magical 50's retro sensibility. Moreover, its barkeeps are firmly committed to serving all things Italian from behind the bar. Bitter amaros like Campari, Montenegro, Cynar, and Zucca Rabarbaro are in play.

And, they play very well...

More play in my own home will be necessary. Amaros may likely take centerstage in cocktails made at Chez Vamp in the coming weeks. Saluti!

Cocktail Canine: Tale Of A Friendly Neighborhood Wanna-Be Drunkard Dog

Her name is Ellie Mae. Pictured above, sucking down a squeaky toy version of a Pina Colada, you can't help but fall hard for this pooch.

I knew I had it bad when my neighbors across the hall brought her home as a pup and invited me over for cocktails and nibbles to celebrate.

Unusual for a canine, the dog wasn't making eyes at the grub on the table. She was staring at my Manhattan with a steady fixation - a fixation that was rewarded by my swirling my pinky into the glass, and holding it out for a greedy lick or two.

Oh, yeah. I fell hard.

So, clearly I needed to buy Ellie Mae some hard liquor. It came in the form of a chew toy shaped like a bottle of bourbon, emblazoned with a Bark Daniels label.

She chewed up that chew toy in short order.

So, I decided to introduce her to the finer things in liquor life. I bought her a bottle of Dog Perignon.

She apparently savored that particular plush toy, as one should with a quality vintage.

Yet, when I ventured across the hall this evening for afterwork cocktails, I knew I best not come empty handed. I brought some proper Gin and bottles of tonic, alongside some kaffir lime leaves for muddling. That was for the human contingency. Miss Ellie Mae got a whole bottle to herself of something else...

Yes, that's a plush bottle of Dog Julio that she has her snout in.

It didn't make it past an hour. She literally tore the stuffing out of it. Or should I say "good to the last drop?"

Not sure what to get her next. If she laid waste to faux tequila that quickly, dare I get her a bottle of Kennel One?

Oh, Ellie Mae. Nothing but love and an open bar-k for you here, young gal!

Stop Messing With My Sazerac

Why do barkeeps continue to do wrong to what is so right? Why, unless I am in New Orleans, can't I order a Sazerac cocktail with confidence?

Both Maison Premiere and Jack the Horse Tavern in Brooklyn understand the finer points of the drink - but they are a rarity in a field of disappointments.

It's not an inordinately complicated cocktail, but I am always astonished at places that say they can make me one and then don't have a key ingredient - like Peychaud's bitters or an anise-flavored spirit like Absinthe, Herbsaint, or Pernod.

A glass of Rye whiskey with Angostura bitters and simple syrup is not a Sazerac folks. Try to substitute orange for lemon peel? That is a big nope!

The recipe for a Sazerac is quite simply...

A chilled glass coated with an anise-flavored spirit - preferably Absinthe. Then in a separate glass, Rye whiskey, simple syrup, and several dashes of Peychaud bitters (maybe Angostura too) are stirred over ice and strained into the other awaiting glass. Take a piece of lemon peel and run it around the lip of the glass, twist over the drink and drop in for good measure.

It is a classic for a reason.

So, stop screwing it up!

Tell me that you can't make it or don't have the ingredients. I will happily order something else. But, please, no more f*cked up Sazeracs. It is a drink that deserves respect and when rightly made, has earned it.

A Gratuitous Cocktail Post

This is a completely unnecessary post intended make you green-eyed with jealously. In short: I went to D.C.'s barmini and had many genius cocktails and had quite a glorious time imbibing each and every one.

That is all.