Category Archives: Clever marketing

Barmoire, Clever marketing, Distilleries, Spirits and liqueurs

In DFW, the improbable rise of Malort, the liqueur people love to loathe

Updated Jan. 21: Revised to add Goodfriend as site where Malort is available.

The Chicago-based curiosity known as Malort can be described in many ways, some of them actually printable: “I grew up on that stuff,” says Chicago-bred bartender Joe Mendoza of Cosmo’s in Lakewood. “It’s like gasoline mixed with turpentine — and the screams of Guatemalan orphans.”

Jonathan Maslyk, of soon-to-open Greenville Avenue bar Swizzle, compares its flavor to “pencil eraser” or “hangover mouth,” while Chicago native Susie Geissler, who writes for Fort Worth Weekly, says: “It tastes like falling off a bike feels.”

Jeppson’s Malort: Try it if you dare.

It may never be known whether the makers of Malort (rhymes with “cavort”) truly enjoy its bitter, piney, aggressively earthy taste, or whether it’s simply the cruelest prank ever perpetrated in the history of liquor production. But improbably, the Swedish-style liqueur is growing in popularity in Texas, with last year’s sales 29 percent higher than in 2018.

Its taste has been likened to grapefruit rind, red cabbage, tree bark, sweaty socks, even the drippings from a set of peeled-out tires or, as one scarred Fort Worth resident put it, “the ghost of an 18th-century whore.”

And yet, the number of places you can now find Malort throughout DFW is at least 17 and growing. Most are casual spots like LG Taps on Greenville, O.E. Penguin downtown and Eastbound and Down on Ross. But you’ll also find it at fancier digs like Origin in Knox-Henderson, Local Traveler in East Dallas and The Usual in Fort Worth, where bartenders have sought to craft palatable cocktails from the stuff.

“What it does to your palate is shocking and interesting,” Local Traveler’s Tommy Fogle says. Yes, in the same at-first-intriguing-then-utterly-horrific manner of Jack Nicholson’s Room 237 kiss in The Shining.

It’s not just that Malort is, well…. challenging. It’s that the taste lingers like an unwelcome guest who won’t go away. “It’s feisty,” says veteran Dallas barman Charlie Papaceno. “And it hangs around.”

**

OK, by now you’re probably wondering: What the heck is Malort? Technically speaking, it’s a besk brannvin, a bitter version of Swedish-style liquor distilled from potatoes or grain – but Malort (the Swedish word for wormwood) ups the ante by adding dandelion to its namesake ingredient.

It’s unlikely anyone in DFW has experimented with more Malort cocktails than Tommy Fogle, here pouring his bubbles-based All That Jazz cocktail at Local Traveler.

An article last year in The Ringer detailed how Carl Jeppson, who’d left Sweden for Chicago in the late 1800s, created Malort in the fashion of his native country’s bitter spirits, which often used wormwood for the stomach-soothing qualities the herb purportedly had. (Supposedly, Jeppson’s tongue was so thrashed by his beloved cigars that Malort was one of the few things he could actually taste.)

George Brode, a Chicago lawyer, purchased Jeppson’s distillery in 1945 and ultimately formed Carl Jeppson Co. to produce it. Eventually, Brode’s secretary would take over the business after he died in 1999, continuing to make Malort even though it was barely profitable.

Then came the ongoing craft-cocktail renaissance.

Palates broadened, and tastes grew for more exotic and interesting spirits and liqueurs. Suddenly, Malort sales went from 1600 cases in 1999 to twice that in 2012 – and more than 10,000 in 2017.

Two years ago, the business was sold to CH Distillery in Chicago, where Malort has been a sort of initiation for years. Ask for a “Chicago handshake” at divey bars like Sportsman’s Club (cash only!) and you’ll get a shot of the stuff along with a cheap Midwestern lager.

“Malort is the quintessential Chicago spirit,” says Sportsman’s Club bartender Joe Schmeling. “Maybe there’s an element of self-hate, because of the weather.”

Chicago resident Matt Herlihy goes so far to say Malort is “kind of a joke.”

At Sportsman’s Club in Chicago’s Ukrainian Village, the so-called ‘Chicago Handshake:’ Cheap Midwestern beer and a shot of Malort.

“I mean, nobody legitimately likes it,” he says over a burger at Chicago’s classic Au Cheval. “But sometimes when you’re feeling really Chicago, somebody will order a round, and you just kind of suck it up.”

The company thrives on that reputation, with ad posters bearing catchphrases like “Malort: When you want to unfriend someone… in person” or “Malort: Tonight’s the night you fight your dad.”

A famously un-aired Malort commercial features an increasingly tipsy Carl Jeppson IV shooting a devolving succession of takes in which he swallows a grimacing shot of Malort and attempts to deliver the company spiel; by ad’s end he no longer seems to mind. He is also barely standing.

The company’s approach seems to be working, with national sales trending upward. Meanwhile, Milwaukee held its first Malort festival in July, while in North Texas, Wade Sanders of Virtuoso Wine & Spirits reports that the regional rise in sales matched those of Texas overall.

**

If a culprit you seek for all this local madness, then Zach Anderson of Lee Harvey’s in The Cedars is your man. First introduced to the stuff during a Chicago visit, the longtime barman, then working at Parker & Barrows in Bishop Arts, was eventually able to convince his Dallas distributor to order some for him.

Of the taste, he says: “It’s like a yeast infection got drunk on an IPA and threw up in my mouth.”

At Scofflaw in Chicago, The Morty cocktail cleverly tempers Malort with plum sake, creme de cacao and Manzanillo sherry.

Among those excited about Malort’s arrival was bartender Torre Beaurline, who’d briefly lived in Chicago some years ago. “As soon as someone found out I was from Texas, they would buy me a shot of Malort,” she says. “I had to get that thick skin, to where I would take it and just dead-eye ‘em.”

Now, she says: “Malort’s the best.” Having worked alongside Anderson at Parker Barrow’s, Beaurline has become one of Malort’s most fervent Dallas-area disciples, pushing it at the bars where she currently works, LG Taps in Lower Greenville and Mike’s Gemini Twin south of downtown.

“She guilts people into it,” says Gemini Twin bartender Chase Burns. “Like, one person will try it and she’ll be, like, ‘Hey! Are you gonna let him do that alone?’ ”

At Lee Harvey’s, Anderson says he loves to save Malort for those who approach him with requests like, “It’s my birthday! Can I have a free shot?” “And I’ll be, like, ‘Oh, have I got a shot for you.’ ”

A shot is the purest way to experience Malort, but for those fearful of going all-in or ready to move on to something different, here are four cocktails around the DFW area that utilize it with success.

River Runs Backward (Jason Pollard, The Usual)

At The Usual in Fort Worth, bar manager Jason Pollard punches gin with a quarter-ounce of Malort, offset by an equally potent splash of Green Chartreuse and a bit of dry vermouth. The result is dry and floral before it dips into the essence of worn boot, leathery and earthy with hints of caraway. The name refers to Chicago’s feat of engineering more than a century ago that reversed the Illinois River’s flow to keep waste and sewage from collecting in Lake Michigan.

Oh Ma’Lort! (Chris Heinen, Origin)

With its stylish, seasonal cuisine, Knox-Henderson’s Origin might seem improbable habitat for Malort, but manager Chris Heinen succumbed to the challenge of putting lipstick on this liquid swine. His bourbon-based cocktail spices Malort with a ginger-infusion, then adds pineapple liqueur to subdue the beast; the drink’s sweetness collapses under a current of wood chips. “It was a challenge,” he says. “This stuff is a bit of a dragon, so I thought taming it would be good. It’s like a Manhattan.”

All That Jazz (Tommy Fogle, Local Traveler)

It’s doubtful that any bartender in DFW has experimented with more Malort cocktails than Local Traveler’s Fogle, who has produced Malort variations on the Margarita and various tiki classics at places like Industry Alley, Small Brewpub, The Usual and now Local Traveler. “It’s slightly masochistic, but I like it,” he says. His latest, All That Jazz, drops Malort into a sparkling wine base with a wise dose of strawberry-hibiscus sweetness.

Chicago Negroni (Zach Anderson, Parker & Barrow’s)

Zach Anderson’s Chicago Negroni.

Zach Anderson, now at Lee Harvey’s, may have left this Bishop Arts joint but his legacy remains with this twist on the classic Negroni – typically a mix of gin, sweet vermouth and bitter Campari.

His Chicago Negroni subs Malort for half the Campari to surprisingly good effect.

That’s not all Anderson left behind, either: Look up Parker & Barrow’s web site and you’ll find… a bottle of Malort.

WHERE TO FIND MALORT IN DALLAS-FORT WORTH
  • Alamo Club, Lower Greenville
  • Armoury D.E., Deep Ellum
  • Bolsa, Bishop Arts
  • Eastbound and Down, East Dallas
  • Eno’s, Coppell
  • Goodfriend, East Dallas
  • Lee Harvey’s, The Cedars
  • LG Taps, Lower Greenville
  • Local Traveler, East Dallas
  • Lounge Here, East Dallas
  • Mike’s Gemini Twin, downtown Dallas
  • O.E. Penguin, downtown Dallas
  • Origin, Knox-Henderson
  • Parker and Barrow’s, Bishop Arts
  • Proper, Fort Worth
  • Single Wide, Lower Greenville
  • The Usual, Fort Worth
Alchemy, Clever marketing, Cocktail craft, Dallas, Most excellent ideas, Seasonal, The Cedars

Say howdy to churros, elotes and Fried Elvis in a glass: Industry Alley’s State Fair cocktail lineup

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Industry Alley State Fair cocktails
Can’t get enough of those State Fair treats? Industry Alley’s got you covered in liquid form. Above, the El Churro cocktail. (Photo by Tommy Fogle)

Before I tell you about the Fried Elvis cocktail, you have to know that for Marty Reyes and his wife Jen, the State Fair of Texas is an annual rite of passage. Or maybe bite of passage is the way to put it, since the two regularly take in the event’s over-the-top creamy and battered delights.

“I love me some Fried Elvis,” admits Reyes, managing partner of Dallas’ Industry Alley, whose in-laws regularly come from San Francisco to enjoy the yearly Big Tex bonanza at Fair Park.

Industry Alley State Fair cocktails
Try Industry Alley’s Fried Elvis cocktail and you may have found a new place to dwell.

But at the same time, the Fair’s three-week run also takes a regular chomp out of bar revenues – an effect Reyes and his crew say stretches as far as the Cedars, where their low-key cocktail hang is located.

“We thought, ‘How can we combat this?’” says Industry Alley bartender Tommy Fogle. “And it was, like, ‘Well – why don’t we embrace it?’”

Get ready, then, for Industry Alley’s lineup of State Fair of Texas cocktails, with everything from the Candied Apple and Lemon Chiller to the Fried Elvis and a Cotton Candy Old Fashioned. There’ll even be a Corn Dog cocktail for the courageous, and the special menu will run the length of the fair, which starts Friday through October 22.

“I mean, who doesn’t love the State Fair?” says Jen, who goes by the moniker Jen Ann Tonic. “Why not drink the experience?”

Tommy Fogle, Industry Alley, State Fair
Reyes and his crew had a head start on their State Fair cocktail lineup with Fogle’s Elote en Vaso cocktail. (Photo by Tommy Fogle)

The group got to work designing cocktails that would echo some of the event’s iconic treats, and they realized already had a head start: Fogle’s Elote En Vaso (Elote in a Glass), an elotes-inspired drink he’d created for a recent whiskey competition.

Others followed, like the Candied Apple cocktail – a mix of apple-infused port, apple brandy and cinnamon syrup, with a trio of apple slices to sop up the rock-candy syrup around the glass – and the El Churro cocktail, which enriches pisco with butter, pecan, cinnamon and cream, with a churro garnish to boot.

The Fried Elvis cocktail fancies up Jack Daniel’s Tennessee whiskey with banana liqueur, peanut butter powder, cream and egg white, with a strafing of currant liqueur filling in the jelly part of the equation.

Industry Alley State Fair cocktails
The Candied Apple cocktail includes a trio of apple slices to sop up the caramel syrup. (Photo by Tommy Fogle)

“People like that one,” Fogle says, who’s been testing out the drinks on some of his customers. “I think it really works.”

The list will also feature a smattering of saltwater taffy shots, and Fogle’s corn-whiskey-based Elote en Vaso is buttery and salty, with a dash of sour cream and Mexican cotija cheese to complete the effect.

Devising drinks that would evoke the State Fair-style delicacies in liquid form wasn’t exactly a walk down the midway.

“The corn dog one was the most challenging,” Reyes says. “I was almost ready to knock it off the list. Then along comes my mad scientist, Johnny.”

Industry Alley State Fair cocktails
You must be this tall to ride: The Corn Dog cocktail proved the most challenging drink of all. (Photo by Tommy Fogle)

That would be bartender Johnny Maslyk, who Reyes says was able to replicate the taste of corn dog batter without over-thickening the texture of the drink.

The finished product incorporates pork-infused Scotch, corn meal and honey.

“It’s just a matter of whether anyone’s brave enough to order it,” Fogle says.

For all of this, Jen Ann Tonic has designed a menu she describes as “Texas Fair cute,” and in a way, Industry Alley is the perfect canvas for such an experiment, with a laid-back, dive-bar atmosphere untethered to any particular audience.

“I’ve always liked the approachability of this place,” Fogle says. “And I think that gives us the leeway to do something like this.”

For the most part, the bar’s State Fair cocktails are over-the-top and rich – but then again, so are the treats they mimic.

“These are novelties,” Fogle says. “But it’s nice to have the freedom to be weird.”

Industry Alley, 1711 S. Lamar St., Dallas. 214-238-3111

Alchemy, Clever marketing, Cocktail of the Month, General revelry, Margarita, Seasonal, Tequila, West End

This West End spot’s festive Cinco de Mayo cocktail will have you saying, ‘YO quiero’

Nicole Hester, YO Steakhouse
Viva the West End: YO Steakhouse’s Tex Mex is a fiesta in a glass.

If you’re looking for somewhere to mark Cinco de Mayo, you could do worse than Dallas’ West End, where the day happens to coincide with Dallas Fest, the neighborhood’s annual showcase of artists, musicians, brew masters and chefs.

You’ll find plenty to drink at the outdoor extravaganza, but you aren’t likely to guzzle anything more guapo than the Tex Mex at Y.O. Ranch Steakhouse, a nod to a holiday that isn’t authentically feted much anywhere in Mexico except in Puebla, the site of the battle it commemorates.

Here in the U.S., though, Cinco de Mayo has become a convenient excuse to swill, even if nobody knows why – and to market drinks to said imbibers, which explains how, when Y.O.’s s front-of-the-house manager Nicole Hester realized the double dose of action going on in the area, suddenly had the idea for a drink with a red, white and green ice cube.

Hester’s inspiration came from a Pride Day cocktail she’d seen at a bar in New York City, where she worked before returning to Dallas. That drink, she explained to her fellow Y.O. managers, featured an ice cube layered in the colors of the LGBT movement’s rainbow flag. “I said, this should be easier because it’s only three colors instead of seven,” Hester explained.

Given the owner’s go-ahead, Hester set to work developing the tri-color Cinco de Mayo cube as well as a Margarita-like drink to put it in. Her first version, using pureed jalapeno and water for the green and Godiva white chocolate liqueur for the white, was too spicy – and as the cube melted, white flakes developed in the drink. Not a good look. “I had to start all over,” she said.

She tried a new version, again freezing the bottom layer before adding the middle one, and again before adding the top. This time, she infused the tequila with jalapeno for heat, crafting the cube with strata of pureed mint, coconut milk and a strawberry/prickly pear mixer boosted with pomegranate.

The finishing touch to the drink – a mix of house tequila, Cointreau, lemon, agave and soda – is a Mexican flag and a rim of red, white and green colored sugars. Its orange-y charm is drinkable enough, and it’s best swigged through the straw; consider the rim purely decorative, since the drink is already sweet.

It’s a fiesta in a glass – and while the $10 drink will be served only on the patio during Saturday’s Dallas Fest, it’s also Y.O. Ranch Steakhouse’s cocktail of the month, meaning you can throw this Tex-Mex party in your mouth all May long.

Y.O. Ranch Steakhouse, 702 Ross Ave., Dallas. 214-744-3287.

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Bars, Clever marketing, Most excellent ideas, Seasonal, Uptown

Parliament, in Uptown, breaks new ground with ‘Arbor Day Eve’ party

Jesse Powell, Jermey Elliott
Bartenders Jesse Powell and Jermey Elliott weren’t so much in the weeds as they were the trees at Parliament’s Arbor Day Eve party Thursday night.

It’s probably fair to say that no other craft-cocktail bar in America has marked Arbor Day in the way that Parliament did last night in Dallas.

That’s because the Uptown bar’s celebration started on Arbor Day Eve, which you might not know was a thing, because it really wasn’t until Parliament somehow made it one. With Eddie “Lucky” Campbell’s able cocktail crew managing a typical cacophony of drink orders, you could barely see the chorus for the trees towering over the bartenders like a rowdy Rainforest Café.

Jesse Powell
You could be forgiven for thinking you’d walked into a cocktail-infused Rainforest Cafe.

Leaf it — ahem — to Campbell, whose flair for showmanship has made him one of the most familiar bartenders in the city. The vest and fedora might be gone, but as he showed Thursday night, he’s still willing to clamber atop the bar top to lead a New-Year’s-Eve-like countdown through the branches as the seconds ticked toward midnight.

“Happy Arbor Day!” everyone shouted in unison, a little unsure whether to take it all seriously or not. (A few found it hard to believe the trees were even real.)  And admittedly, Arbor Day, a day on which Americans are encouraged to plant trees, might be the nation’s most unsung holiday.

SungJoon Bruce Koo
Bartender SungJoon Bruce Koo delivers a drink from beneath the canopy at Parliament’s Arbor Day Eve party.

Bartender Jesse Powell had been a little uncertain himself a couple of days earlier when Campbell informed him that he had bought a pair of 13-foot-tall red oaks to mark the day. “It’s such an underappreciated holiday,” Campbell observed.

“Then Lucky was, like, ‘Can you go buy 200 coconuts?’ ” Powell said, and the next thing he knew he was marching out of H Mart with two shopping carts full of them.

A lineup of tree-themed drink specials featuring the aptly chosen Greenhouse Gin was designed for the occasion, including the Cocos Nucifara, a mix of gin, fruit and coconut water served in a coconut. That joined a pair of other delicious cocktails including the lychee-pearl-topped Weeping Willow and There’s A Tree In Your Bar?, enhanced with turmeric.

You could say that Parliament’s Arbor Day Eve celebration was off the hook.

And on the fly, Powell even renamed the bar’s popular smoke-infused Old Fashioned variation the “Forest Fire” for the night.

The trees, adorned with glowing green rings, were positioned behind the bar so that the crew could maneuver beneath the canopy, though Powell finally tired of bumping his fedora and ultimately hung it on a branch.

When the night was over, there naturally remained one challenge: What to do with the trees.

With that, Campbell and Powell got to the roots of the holiday: On Friday, they procured a trailer and one of the trees was taken to and planted in a location undisclosed “for his safety and well-being,” Powell said. “We look forward to taking care of him and watching him grow…. We really hope he gets along with the other trees.”

On Friday, Arbor Day, the largest tree was taken away and planted, to live on to see many more Arbor Days — which is what the holiday is all about.
(Photos by Jesse Powell)

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Bars, Clever marketing, Events, Exotic tales of adventure, General revelry, Most excellent ideas, The Cedars

A no-bull experiment: Three Cedars-area bars to launch inaugural Running of the Bulls

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Pamplona comes to Dallas, sorta.

It is said that the tradition dates back to the early 14th century, and its participants are known for something resembling cojones. The famed Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain, held during the nine-day festival of Sanfermines, is the best known of such rituals, in which young, white-clad daredevils in red bandanas dash through the streets just ahead of six rampaging toros.

Of course you’ve thought about doing it. But maybe you’ve been unnerved by the airfares, or possibly it the fact that the event prohibits participation by anyone under the influence of alcohol.

My friends, Dallas has got you covered.

Imagine this on the streets of Dallas, except with roller derby girls and beer. (Image from TravelGenius.com)

Prepare to showcase your derring-do on Sunday, July 16, when the inaugural Cedars Running of the Bulls goes down with a three-venue trot just south of downtown. The event, dreamed up by Industry Alley proprietor Charlie Papaceno, kicks off with a pep rally from 4 to 6 p.m. at Lee Harvey’s.

There, intrepid imbibers will receive their customary red bandanas before the less-than-half-mile run gets underway, with Dallas’ own flat-track roller derby girls, the Derby Devils, playing the part of the minatory beasts. Mac’s Southside and Industry Alley, both on Lamar, are the final destinations. Expect the Easy Slider food truck and drink specials sponsored by Tullamore Dew, along with plenty of Topo Chico.

Industry Alley
Charlie Papaceno of Industry Alley.

As its Facebook page puts it, the event is a way to “celebrate the spirit of our unique neighborhood,”  carving out a niche in the same way that Oak Cliff has earned a claim to Bastille Day. Though reception to the idea was lukewarm at a Cedars merchant meeting, Papaceno said, he and managers of the other two bars decided to push forward with the idea on their own.

Sometimes, you just gotta take the bull by the horns.

Barmoire, Clever marketing, Community, Competitions and Honors, Design District, Events, General revelry, Tequila, Texas

Standard Pour bartender wins local cocktail battle, will represent DFW at national competition

Espolon Cocktail Fight 2016
Dallas’ Jorge Herrera takes on Fort Worth’s Amber Davidson in the final round of DFW’s Espolon competition.

For a lot of people, the idea of making a few drinks brings to mind mixing a little vodka with soda over ice, but for the craft bartenders who strutted their stuff before the judges earlier this week, it meant much, much more – firing up an original cocktail and then knocking out a dozen tequila classics, all within minutes. And with flair, to boot.

Espolon's annual contest for the DFW region was held at the Design District's DEC On Dragon.
Espolon’s annual contest for the DFW region was held at the Design District’s DEC On Dragon.

Jorge Herrera is on his way to New York City because he managed to make the whole thing look easy. A veteran of Plano’s Mexican Sugar who joined The Standard Pour in Uptown earlier this year, Herrera took top prize at Monday’s Espolón Cocktail Fight for the right to represent the DFW area at the tequila brand’s national finals in November.

Held at the DEC on Dragon, the event – part culinary competition, part WWF – was a raucous, “luchador-style” affair pitting Dallas drink slingers against their Fort Worth brethren.

Here, in photos, are some of the highlights.

In the first matchup, Devin “El Guapo” McCullough of The People’s Last Stand, at Mockingbird Station, took on Amber “Waves of Pain” Davidson of Fort Worth’s Bird Cafe. Contestants had two minutes to set up their stations and three minutes to prepare their original cocktails for the judges.

Espolon contest round 1
McCullough and Davidson, going mano a mano before the thunderous crowd. Both of their cocktails — McCullough’s coffee-inflected Milkman and Davidson’s black-salt-rimmed Pearls and Spice — earned them passage into the second round.

Next up was Jonathan “Manila Killa” Garcia, also of The People’s Last Stand, against Jermey “Big Jerm” Elliott of Citizen, in Uptown. Garcia appeared in a conical hat while Elliott fired up the crowd by stripping down to shorts and a tank top.

Espolon contest round 2
Elliott crafting his cocktail, A Mexican at Lumpinee, featuring curry powder and Thai basil/pineapple syrup, in the contest’s second matchup.

 

 

 

 

With competitors taking the stage with painted faces, or in skimpy or outlandish outfits, supporters embraced the costumed spirit of things and advantaged the nearby photo booth.

The crowds were pumped full of enthusiasm and tequila, especially the boisterous Fort Worth contingent.
The crowds were pumped full of enthusiasm and tequila, especially the boisterous Fort Worth contingent.

The third matchup pitted Cody Barboza, of Deep Ellum’s Armoury D.E., against Jason Pollard of The Usual, in Fort Worth. Both Barboza’s mescal-fueled El Rico and Pollard’s One Hour Break — which leaned savory with Averna and molé bitters — earned second-round status.

Cody Barboza, Armoury D.E.
Barboza’s El Rico cocktail, which paired Espolon reposado with mezcal, fruit and jalapeño with a chocolate/salt rim.

In the fourth duel, Brittany “B-Day” Day of Thompson’s, in Fort Worth, faced off against Geovanni “Geo” Alafita of Knife, near Mockingbird Station. Day’s Smoke In The Morning went smoky-sweet with mezcal, maple syrup and Allspice Dram while Alafita’s preciously presented Rosario combined tequila with mildly bitter Aperol, cilantro and jalapeño.

Espolon contest 2016
Clockwise, from upper left: Day, of Thompson’s; Alafita’s Rosario; Alafita pouring his drink; Day’s Smoke In The Morning, after a drink or two.

In addition to taste, presentation and how well the tequila shone through, contestants were judged on showmanship. In addition to yours truly, the panel included chef Nick Walker of The Mansion at Turtle Creek, Bonnie Wilson Coetzee of FrontBurner Restaurants and Frederick Wildman brand ambassador Austin Millspaugh.

Walker, Wilson Coetzee, Millspaugh
Three of the night’s judges: Walker, of The Mansion, FrontBurner’s Coetzee and Millspaugh, of Frederick Wildman distributors.

The fifth and final first-round match was easily the most entertaining as the typically understated Jorge “Don Juan” Herrera of The Standard Pour took the platform with a lovely lady on each arm in his duel against Sean “McDoozy” McDowell of Thompson’s. But Herrera put some shine on his show by completing his deceptively simple drink with plenty of time to spare, then lighting up a cigar and preening before the crowd as McDowell continued to race against the clock.

Herrera’s Carolina cocktail was lush with cigar-infused Grand Marnier, while McDowell’s tart Trade With Mexico bundled both Espolón blanco and reposado with tea and homemade ginger beer. Both advanced to the second round.

Espolon contest 2016
Clockwise from upper left, McDowell’s Trade with Mexico; the two rivals take the stage; Herrera’s Big Daddy strut; Herrera’s Carolina cocktail; the competitors in action.

In the second round, the top six contestants each had to crank out 10 El Diablos — a lesser known tequila classic featuring reposado tequila, créme de cassis, lime and ginger beer — within a few minutes’ time.

Round Two: McDowell, Pollard and Davidson of Fort Worth double-down on El Diablos against Dallas' Herrera, McCullough and Barboza as co-emcee Chase Streitz calls the action.
Round Two: McDowell, Pollard and Davidson of Fort Worth double-down on El Diablos against Dallas’ Herrera, McCullough and Barboza as co-emcee Chase Streitz calls the action.

Herrera’s and Davidson’s were dubbed mas macho by the judges and both advanced to the final round, where each had to craft a Margarita using Espolón blanco, a Paloma with Espolón reposado and an Old Fashioned with Espolón añejo — again, within a few minutes.

A taste of each drink, then the judges conferred, taking into account the entire night. It was Herrera’s performance that was judged best overall, which means he’ll be competing at Espolón’s national finals in early November.

Espolon contest 2016
Brian McCullough, co-founder of The Standard Pour, embraces Herrera as the bartender is named winner of Espolon’s DFW contest.

 

Brian McCullough, co-founder of The Standard Pour, said he had no doubt that the Uptown bar’s attention to efficiency on busy weekend nights helped prepare Herrera for the competition’s fast-paced demands.

Between that and Herrera’s previous training at FrontBurner, which owns Mexican Sugar, “he’s been working toward winning this ever since he started working here,” McCullough said.

To watch a normally subdued guy transform into the very picture of confidence made him proud.

“Seeing him do that was like seeing him come out of his shell,” McCullough said.

 

Clever marketing, Exotic tales of adventure, Flying Produce, Gin, Most excellent ideas, Pop-Up Bars

When cucumbers fly: Hendrick’s Gin’s most unusual form of air transport comes to Texas

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Hendrick's Gin
Hendrick’s Gin’s X-111 Flying Cucumber Airship. Because the skies must be tamed with produce.

Much is inherently ridiculous about the notion of a flying cucumber, and yet such concerns did little to deter Hendrick’s, the decidedly unusual Scotland-based gin, from conceiving just such a thing to loose upon the nation’s skies. That’s just how Hendrick’s rolls.

“Just as we applied the taste of CUCUMBER to GIN,” the Hendrick’s literature boasted in typical circus-sideshow fashion, “we are now applying the CUCUMBER’S AERODYNAMIC SHAPE to FLIGHT.”

Flying Cucumber
Part of Hendrick’s’ characteristically vintage setup as we prepared to take flight.

This weekend, the marvelous X-111 Flying Cucumber Airship found its way to Houston’s Ellington Field, a military and public airport on the city’s periphery, where members of the cocktail literati were afforded this most peculiar form of transport.

Arriving by Hendrick’s shuttle from a safe measure beyond, we intrepid travelers were deposited on the field at a pop-up parlor echoing Hendrick’s’ old-timey vibe with vintage furniture, trunks and an antique automobile with a pullout bar.

But there could be no doubt that it was the 130-foot dirigible in the distance that had captured our fascination. Cleverly wrapped in dark green vinyl to recall the familiar produce that is one of gin’s besties, it sported a single eye, the symbol of Hendrick’s Gin’s so-called Society of the Unusual.

Hendrick's Gin
Eye in the sky: The symbol of Hendrick’s Gin’s Society of the Unusual goes airborne.

Approaching storm clouds offered an air of adventure as well as a good amount of wind, requiring the blimp to be tethered by the nose to a large mast, lest it be disastrously swept away. I could only imagine that, should the craft tragically go down during my ride, that at least my obituary would be mildly hilarious.

Meanwhile, a Hendrick’s-attired crew attended urgently to the airship, wresting it into position with ropes and sheer brute strength as we took turns being ushered in groups of one to three into the surprisingly small cab.

I was lucky enough to ride alone with pilot Cesar Mendez, a Kerrville native who splits cucumber-flying duties with fellow pilot Charlie Smith. Theirs is a rare skill indeed: “There’s actually more astronauts in the world than people who can fly these things,” said Jim Ryan, Hendrick’s Gin’s U.S. brand ambassador.

Hendrick's Gin
The skipper, brave and sure: Cesar Mendez, Flying Cucumber pilot.

A wave of Mendez’s hand and the crew freed the ropes from their mighty grips, and off we sailed into the heavens. A pair of wheels to either side of him controlled our lift and descent, while pedals, or rudders, at his feet controlled direction.

Our ascent was casual and, as Hendrick’s would put it, civilized, a series of plodding front-to-back tilts that gradually took us up and forward, like a great whale rising from its oceanic depths. “We’re slow and low,” Mendez said. “We’re never really in a hurry.”

Hendrick's Gin
Our cruising altitude of 1,000 feet was perfectly acceptable for a flying cucumber.

The airfield and its surrounding greenbelts and neighborhoods opened up before us. Within a few minutes, we had reached our comfort zone of 1,000 feet, a height that not only allows those on the ground to take in the airship’s signature artwork but keeps the flying cucumber safely away from other air traffic or flying produce.

It was about this time that I remembered that I was terrified of heights. The fact that I was next to an open window from which my cell phone could easily spill until it fell, fell, fell indistinguishably to the ground 80 stories below, was no help, nor were the cab’s forward tilts that practically shoved my altitudinous predicament in my face.

Hendrick's Gin
The fearless crew prepares to haul in the descending airship.

Yes, I was in a real pickle. I’m not gonna lie: My hands had gone clammy and my heart was racing. I did what I normally do in such situations: I went into reporter mode, tossing a few questions at the Mendez and focusing on jotting down the answers until I realized that in actuality, the 35-mph ride was remarkably smooth. And enjoyable, too, despite the lack of beverage service, or more to the point, gin-and-tonic service.

Before long we were moving in for our landing as the crack Hendrick’s crew lined up in inverted-V formation, prepared to haul us home and toward welcome refreshment.

Houston was the fourth stop on the cucumber’s 13-city tour that includes Los Angeles, San Francisco, Boston, Detroit, New York and Chicago. Next would be South Florida. Dallas had originally been on Hendrick’s’ schedule but unfortunately had to be scrubbed because of inclement weather.

“Everything is susceptible to weather conditions,” Mendez said. “That’s just part of the experience of flying in a cucumber.”

Flying Cucumber
At last, the beverage cart arrives.

 

Barmoire, Clever marketing, Cocktail craft, Cocktail history, Events, Most excellent ideas, Nostalgia, Vintage cocktails

Cointreau’s bartender book club puts history into glasses and craft-cocktailing into perspective

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Collectif 1806
Vintage cocktail books — and drinks — from the legendary Trader Vic, at a Cointreau event earlier this year at Sissy’s Southern Kitchen.

DALLAS – Early last summer, in the private parlor at Sissy’s Southern Kitchen, five weathered books spread out on a vintage trunk – among them Trader Vic’s Book of Food and Drink (1946), Robert H. Loeb Jr.’s Nip Ahoy! (1954) and Obispo y Monserrate’s Bar La Florida Cocktails (1937). “Please be careful,” said Emily Perkins, regional rep for Collectif 1806, a project of Remy Cointreau USA. “They’re very old.”

Collectif 1806
The Thistle, from the 1924 book “Carlo’s Cocktails,” at Dallas’ Meddlesome Moth.

With the seeming ubiquity of craft cocktails these days, it’s worth remembering that the scene is less revolution than revival: The practice dates back more than a century, and while there’s plenty to appreciate about craft cocktails – the culinary parallels, a culture of hospitality, their ability to take the edge off a day – one of the things I personally love about them is the history that serves as their base. When you make a proper Old Fashioned or Aviation, in other words, you’re building something that someone made pretty much exactly the same way a hundred years or more before. While the tools, technology and the range and quality of ingredients have all since improved, the drinks that have come and gone have left an enduring canon of classics, and the craft at heart is the very one conducted for decades upon decades.

That’s a notion thoughtful bartenders appreciate, and it’s something that Remy Cointreau, the U.S. branch of the French distiller known for its eponymous orange liqueur, has seized upon in a welcome and opportune way. The company has gradually compiled an archive of 250 vintage cocktail volumes, and for the past year, Dallas has been lucky to be among a small circuit of cities in which books are periodically presented for perusal through Cointreau’s bartender education and support arm, Collectif 1806. (Other cities include Miami, San Francisco, Chicago and New York.)

Collectif 1806
Perkins checks out one of the classic tomes with barman Matt Orth of LARK at the Park at Meddlesome Moth’s book club event.

In addition to Sissy’s, Dallas “book club” events have been held at Barter in Uptown, Meddlesome Moth in the Design District and most recently, Abacus in Knox-Henderson.

The evening hours passed at Sissy’s Southern Kitchen as the select group took turns poring through the quaint and dated pages. Smartphones snapped photos of recipes, illustrations or inspiring prose. “I’m such a sucker for vintage illustrations,” Perkins said. “I love the books with the crazy drawings and the old ads.”

Meanwhile, five rounds of cocktails appeared, one from each book – including the sweet, mild Honeysuckle, from Angostura-Wuppermann’s Professional Mixing Guide (1941); the luscious Ian’s Fizz, from Trader Vic’s Bartender’s Guide (1947); from Bar La Florida Cocktails, the lesser-known classic Brandy Daisy.

“I love old books,” said Julie Brown, who tends bar at nearby Hibiscus. “Trader Vic’s is, like, every bartender’s first book.”

Collectif 1806
At Barter, the Orange Bloom, from the second printing of the United Kingdom Bartender’s Guide (1955). Only 5,000 copies were printed.

Cocktails at these events naturally showcase the Cointreau line of products, which includes The Botanist gin, Bruichladdich Scotch whisky and Mount Gay rum. In general, original recipes are adhered to as faithfully as possible, though they aren’t necessarily what Perkins would serve to modern palates. “You’d have to tinker,” she said. “Most (of the old drinks) are really tart; they’re not using a lot of sugar. Before the 1940s it was rare and expensive. People didn’t have access to a lot of sugar and ice. They were stronger, boozier drinks.”

Despite the light atmosphere, the books are handled with a level of care that sometimes surprises Perkins, who’d initially been reticent to release the rare volumes, some frail and plastic-sleeved, from her protective embrace. “It was hard to let go of that,” she said. But “when it comes to handling the books, there’s a lot of respect and decorum.”

Collectif 1806
At Barter’s event, Harry Johnson’s classic New and Improved Bartender’s Manual (1900), Lucius Beebe’s Stork Club Bar Book (1946) and Ted Shane’s Authentic and Hilarious Bar Guide (1953).

That’s one reason attendance is limited, to weed out looky-loos in favor of more serious practitioners. You wouldn’t want just anyone getting their paws on Harry Johnson’s classic The New and Improved Bartender’s Manual (1900), for example, or V. B. Lewis’ The Complete Buffet Guide (1903). Some of the lucky few even receive access to Cointreau’s online archives. “A lot of these are what people call proprietary secrets,” Perkins says. “It’s supposed to be a tool for bartenders who really care. It’s Holy-Grail-type stuff.”

Those at Sissy’s included Matt Orth of LARK at the Park, Parliament’s Stephen Halpin, Lauren Festa of The Rosewood Mansion at Turtle Creek and High West brand ambassador Chris Furtado. There was also Parliament’s Daniel Charlie Ferrin, who was proud to already be in possession of Trader Vic’s Bartender’s Guide. “I bought it for $12 on Amazon,” he said. “Except the dust jacket is in pristine condition. It’s literally sitting in my car right now.”

Collectif 1806
A sample illustration from Ted Shane’s cheeky 1953 volume.

In addition to the recipes, “I love the cartoons,” Ferrin said. He picked up the book and flipped open the cover to show an illustration of a bartender pouring liquid from one mixing glass into another. “In fact,” he said, “my next tattoo is going to be based on this one – except it’ll be a monkey, with a fez and a unicycle.”

The recipes are often preceded by wry insights or anecdotes. Introducing the rum-based Pikaki, the renowned Trader Vic wrote in his Book of Food and Drink (1946): “I’d save this one for my visiting great-aunt who, when approached as to her idea of a little before-dinner stimulant, shakes her finger at you reprovingly, ‘Well, just one.’ She’ll probably weaken and have two and go into dinner with her transformation askew.”

The books also recall a time of unabashedly flowery prose and titles – for instance, Charles H. Baker Jr.’s The Gentleman’s Companion, Vol. 1 (Being An Exotic Cookery Book, or Around the World with Knife, Fork and Spoon).

Collectif 1806
The Gin Fix cocktail, from The Complete Buffet Guide, (1903), at Meddlesome Moth.

So taken was I with the simple but noble sentiments of the finely distilled introduction to the Book of Food and Drink – which in 1946, was priced at $3.95 – that I tracked down my own copy of the book for my home stash. It reads: “Dedicated to those merry souls who make eating and drinking a pleasure; who achieve contentedness long before capacity; and who, whenever they drink, prove able to carry it, enjoy it, and remain gentlemen.”

“It’s dedicated to us,” Perkins said. “People who love to indulge in finer things – but it says never go overboard, treat people with respect. It’s idealistic and sweet.”

For this group, the books are more than novelty: They’re passed-down knowledge and perspective and a reminder that those who practice the craft today are part of something much bigger than themselves.

Collectif 1806
La Duni’s Daniel Guillen was classically philosophical about the event: “You cannot live if you do not eat,” he said. “And you cannot live if you do not have knowledge.”