Tag Archives: Hendrick’s Gin

Don’t Tell Supper Club aims to make cocktails a feast for your senses

Sam Houghton, Don't Tell Supper Club
Don’t Tell’s Green Eggs and Ham. I would drink it on a boat.

I’ve just sipped from a glass brimming with vodka, fruit puree, lemon and champagne on crushed ice, and the crackle of Pop Rocks is still rocketing around my tongue.

“This is going to be a full sensory experience,” James Hamous says, casting a nod at the room as he takes it all in. “Not the humdrum of your typical restaurant.”

It may look plain on the outside, but inside it’s a sensory wonderland.

Do tell, sir!

Actually it’s the Don’t Tell Supper Club we’re in, but it’s clear from our grand surroundings that the folks behind the curtain want the place to be anything but a secret. The décor is whimsical bordering on outlandish, with designer mirrors, slanted shelves, an array of sexy crossed legs along a wall and a stack of books behind the bar that transform into a flock of flying seagulls.

At Don’t Tell, already in soft opening but which officially launches its dinner menu July 27, it’s going to be all about the show, stage and all. The place transforms from dinner club to nightclub at 11 p.m. and will be open three nights a week, Thursday through Saturday, with former Top Chef contestant Tre Wilcox the architect du cuisine.

Sam Houghton, Don't Tell Supper Club
Houghton’s vodka and fruit puree-powered Contortionist is sprinkled with Pop Rocks.

“It’s going to be socially interactive,” says general manager Hamous, also co-owner of The Standard Pour in Uptown, who prefers to describes his role at Don’t Tell as “facilitator of entertainment” and then, on second thought, as “director of crazy.” He’s thinking maybe geishas in the future, or mermaids in a ginormous water tank.

Yup. It’s going to be that kind of place – a cabaret of contortionists, aerialists and dance revues wriggling and prancing as you devour another forkful of lamb, the sort of spectacle you might find in such clubs in Amsterdam, Miami or New York City.

Likewise, the showy ‘tude infuses the drink menu from bar manager Sam Houghton, formerly of Dragonfly at Hotel Zaza and The Standard Pour. Think dry ice, smoke and fanciful touches like those Pop Rocks in the so-called Contortionist, added, as the drink list says, “to bring the party to your mouth!” (Exclamation point not mine.)

The tiki-esque Trainspotting includes four syringes of rum piercing its icy depths, to be injected upon serving into the highball of orange, lime, pineapple and coconut.

The Most Unusual Tea, a name playing off the brand phrase for Hendricks Gin, is poured from a beaker into a tea cup that bubbles smoke rings like a magic potion of gin, lime, basil and citrus-chamomile bitters.

Sam Houghton, Don't Tell Supper Club
Houghton’s Bumbledypeg, a twist on the classic Bee’s Knees designed for a friend who’s allergic to honey.

One standout is the Green Eggs and Ham (pictured above), a cool mix of tequila, egg white, jalapeno/cucumber puree, St. Germain and spicy Firewater tincture. With a slice of candied bacon crawling from the lime-green surf over the rim of the coupe, I would drink it on a boat, or with a goat. The name even references “Sam I am” Houghton herself.

My favorite may be the Bumbledypeg, whose name recalls mumbledypeg, the old-timey childhood game played with a pocketknife; Houghton says she wanted to make a Bee’s Knees (gin, lemon and honey syrup) for a friend who’s allergic to honey. Her version nicely substitutes almond-y orgeat for honey, but the coup de grace that graces the coupe (boom!) is a Bit-O-Honey speared with a tiny plastic sword.

Drink prices are expected to hover around $12, with many echoing the venue’s theatrical theme: “They’re things that alter and play with your senses,” Hamous says.

DON’T TELL SUPPER CLUB, 2026 Commerce Street, Dallas.

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

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.

 

2014: It was the best of times, it was the thirst of times

Michael Martensen, Abacus
An unforgettable cocktail launched an unforgettable year: Martensen’s Apple Boilermaker.

It was the best of times, it was the thirst of times, and 2014’s constantly unfolding craft-cocktail kaleidoscope unfurled a spirited array of events for DFW’s imbiberati. Here’s a look back at the year’s top stories:

Abacus
Campbell and Martensen: Spittin’ spirited rhymes at Abacus for all too brief a time.

JANUARY: Eddie “Lucky” Campbell and Michael Martensen together behind the bar at Abacus

From darkness, light: For a brief but glorious time, the chaos set in motion by Eddie “Lucky” Campbell’s displacement from the late Chesterfield and Michael Martensen’s abrupt exit, along with his bar team, from Bar Smyth and The Cedars Social actually set the stage for two of the city’s most talented and influential bar men to pair up behind the bar at Abacus. The two have a longstanding rivalry – “I’m Seabiscuit and he’s War Admiral,” Campbell once told me. “I’m hard working, and he’s a fucking genetic miracle” – that continued to unfold at Abacus to customers’ benefit, especially late, once the kitchen had closed. One evening we rolled in and the two went back and forth like b-boys, throwing down cocktail creations to put each other’s to shame until Martensen slipped off to a corner to focus on a bit of handiwork. “What’s he doing over there?” Campbell wondered with his sly smile. Martensen emerged with what you see at top: A frothy apple boilermaker made with Deep Ellum Blonde, Cointreau, apple brandy, whole egg and a hollowed-out half-eggshell cupping a whiskey shot. Boss.

Libertine Bar
Libertine’s influential former head barman doing his thing.

MAY: Mate Hartai says goodbye to The Libertine Bar

For years, Hartai — chief barman at Remedy, opening tonight –was synonymous with the Libertine, which he helped transform from solid neighborhood bar to a den of craft-cocktail prowess and innovation. But after five years at the Libertine, Hartai decided it was finally time to move on to other things – namely The Cold Standard, the craft ice business he’s been shaping for some time – and most recently, Remedy, the new Lower Greenville project from HG Sply owner Elias Pope.

Tales of the Cocktail 2014
The Dallas crew, clockwise from upper right: Hartai, Brian McCullough and Charlie Moore; Bonnie Wilson, Trina Nishimura and Julian Pagan; Josh MacEachern and Josh Hendrix.

JULY: Texas Tiki Throwdown at Tales of the Cocktail, New Orleans

The DFW presence at the spirit industry’s biggest annual gathering has gotten larger and larger, with dozens of bartenders and spirit reps on hand for 2014’s event. Among the festival’s kickoff happenings was the Texas Tiki Throwdown, where DFW drink-slingers went mano-a-mano with others from Houston, Austin and San Antonio. It’s fair to say everyone left the conference room with Lone Stars in their eyes.

Driftwood
Um, this.

JULY: Driftwood introduces an oyster shooter flight

They say the world is your oyster, but sometimes oysters are your world: This little bit of brilliance from Oak Cliff’s disappointingly defunct seafood establishment briefly brightened up my existence. Four oysters on the half-shell, each shell filled upon consumption with one of four spirits or liqueurs: Manzanilla sherry, mezcal, single malt whiskey and Pernod. Let bivalves be bivalves!

Hendrick's Gin
Out of the wilderness, a mysterious elixir.

AUGUST: Hendricks Gin’s Kanaracuni unveiling

Dallas was one of a handful of cities this summer in which Hendricks Gin chosed to unveil its rare Kanaracuni gin, a single-batch production made from a plant culled from the Venezuelan rainforest. Hendricks knows how to put on an event, and the fancifully exotic tasting, conducted at the Dallas Zoo, did not disappoint: Bordering on elaborate fantasy, it featured tales of adventure and large insects and finally samples of the amazing kumquat-flavored gin, which in intentionally ephemeral fashion shall never be seen again.

Proof + Pantry
Josh Maceachern, among Michael Martensen’s reunited bartending crew at Proof + Pantry.

AUGUST: Parliament and Proof + Pantry open

As noted above, Lucky Campbell and Michael Martensen’s longstanding rivalry can occasionally reach ridiculous proportions, so it was only logical that their two long-awaited projects would open on the same night — Parliament in Uptown, and Proof + Pantry in the Arts District. (“How ridiculous is that?” Campbell told me a couple of nights before the big event.) Both have met expectations, garnering local and national acclaim.

Dallas cocktails
Everything is illuminated: The new gem in Dallas’ cocktail scene.

OCTOBER: Midnight Rambler opens

Behind their Cuffs and Buttons consulting enterprise, cocktail masters Chad Solomon and Christy Pope have long been influences in DFW’s drinking scene, but it wasn’t until this fall that Midnight Rambler, the bar the two have long dreamed of opening, launched at the Joule Hotel. The swanky subterranean palace and its lineup of well-conceived libations take the city to another level, marking another step in its craft-cocktail evolution.

Windmill Lounge
Venerable barman Charlie Papaceno: No longer tilting at the Windmill.

NOVEMBER: Charlie Papaceno leaves the Windmill Lounge

After nine years at the landmark lounge he co-founded with Louise Owens, Papaceno left the venerable dive spot to pursue plans to open a new bar in Dallas’ Cedars neighborhood. One of the scene’s elder statesmen, Papaceno’s bespectacled mug was a steady presence behind the bar at Windmill, which became an early haven for Dallas’ budding craft-bartender scene and went on to garner national attention – including a nod as one of Esquire’s best American bars.

Henry's Majestic
Slinging tiki drinks at one of five pop-up bars at Henry’s epic Trigger’s Toys benefit. (Mary Christine Szefzyk)

DECEMBER: Trigger’s Toys annual benefit event featuring five pop-up bars

I was crushed to miss this epic event, which made use of the long-unused warren of space at recently opened Henry’s Majestic in the Knox-Henderson area. Five pop-up bars featuring teams of bartenders from DFW and beyond went all out to raise money for a Dallas charity serving hospitalized kids. From sports bar and tiki bar to country saloon and nightclub, it was a raucous party that garnered $100,000 for the cause.

IMG_20141025_152349

ONGOING: Collectif 1806’s bartender book club events

The bartender education and support arm of Remy Cointreau USA, helmed locally by Emily Perkins, has helped remind that the whole craft-cocktail thing is less revolution than revival. At its periodic exclusive book club gatherings, bartenders page through some of Cointreau’s extensive collection of vintage cocktail tomes, perusing recipes and gleaning old knowledge and then passing the reaped benefits along to consumers. Everybody wins.

From the Venezuelan jungle, a most unique gin — and a rare tasting experience for Dallas

Hendrick's Gin
Out of the jungle, a mysterious elixir.

Whether the whole thing was for real it was hard to tell, but it’s fair to say we wanted it to be. As Dallas bartender Stephen Halpin would later put it, the lines between fairy tale and fact were “bewitchingly blurred.” What were the chances that Hendrick’s Gin’s master distiller and global ambassador would be dispatched into the Venezuelan jungle in search of a unique ingredient with which to produce a spirit that would never see mass production?

“This was an experiment,” said David Piper, the Scotland-based company’s global ambassador. “A little bit of an indulgence.”

So began the saga of Hendrick’s’ so-called Perilous Botanical Quest, a zesty tale of pluck and determination spun early this month for two dozen DFW-area bartenders and spirit enthusiasts at, fittingly, the Dallas Zoo.In a setting of artificial moss, magnifying glasses, mini-globes and creepy-crawly things under glass – a most exotic and scientific atmosphere indeed – containers of crispy edible mealworms and crickets offered themselves for the taking, the former echoing corn nuts, the latter salty sunflower seed shells. It all fit the brand’s cheeky, carnival-esque vibe.

Hendrick's Kanaracuni gin
Adventurous tales require adventurous snacks.

The mysterious gin – dubbed Kanaracuni – was labeled with clinical small-batch simplicity. As we explored our fantastical surroundings, a concoction was prepared – a mix of caramelized pineapple and peppercorn to which was added cinnamon, lemon, vanilla liqueur and finally gin. The drinks were served in distinctive gourds with metal tea straws, the kind with enlarged, enclosed ends with small holes to strain out leaves.

A short film delivered the thrilling narrative: The intrepid Hendrick’s team, joined by practiced explorer Charles Brewer-Carias and botanist Francisco Delascio, set deep into the Guayana Highlands, into an area “nestled among vertiginous crags and protected by ancient spirits” and hostile wilds teeming with what Piper not so fondly remembered as “lots of nasty little stinging things.” With them they had a baby 10-litre copper still, a small ice machine and generator, spices, freeze-dried cucumber and, judging from the final frames, at least one incredibly sturdy martini glass.

Hendrick's Kanaracuni gin
Caramelizing pineapple and peppercorn for the first cocktail.

They were seeking an ingredient to complement Hendrick’s’ floral, green and spicy profile. The team befriended natives of the village Kanaracuni, a small-statured tribe with four-foot blowpipes who introduced them to local herbs and spices – many of them “mesmerizingly pungent, but not quite right,” said Piper, looking like a pith-helmeted Bradley Cooper.

Then, on the seventh day, they found scorpion tail – a leafy plant drunk in tea form by the locals as a digestive aid. (The same Venezuelan plant appears to be described in a 1968 article by researcher John H. Masters in The Journal of the Lepidopterists Society.) The taste was just what master distiller Lesley Gracie, a wee fairy godmother with a youthful smile and a mile-long mane of hair, was looking for. “We rubbed it in our hands,” she said. “It was very green, almost cucumber. I knew it would fit the profile…. I don’t think we could have picked anything better to strike all the cues.”

Hendrick's Gin
Through the looking glass: A cocktail served in a tiny gourd with a metal tea straw.

There in the jungle, Gracie produced a trial distillate, quickly deemed a success. She then made nearly 9 liters of concentrated scorpion’s tail, which with some difficulty the team managed to transport back to Europe. That became 350 liters of gin. “That’s all we have of this Kanaracuni,” Piper said.

As the film came to a close, we were treated to small samples of the prize distillate. No doubt the story’s allure added to its appeal, but it was lovely – the familiar Hendrick’s taste, less juniper-heavy than other gins and rife with floral and cucumber notes, but with a little extra, something like the tangerine-y sweet-and-sour taste of kumquat.

Then came a Kanaracuni martini. Eyes widened: Could this be for real, considering how little of this there was to go around? Dallas was one of only a select handful of cities on this tour, including San Francisco, Seattle, New York and Boston. But that wasn’t all: The Hendrick’s team then turned over to the group their bar setups – including a bottle or two of Kanaracuni – for our own experimentation.

“There’s very little of this gin,” Piper said. “It’s best to keep it as pure as possible. But the more you play with it, the more remarkable things it does.”

Hendrick's Gin
Creating a buzz: The rare liquid was unveiled in the most exotic of atmospheres.

That Hendrick’s would create such a rare spirit just to showcase the brand’s pursuit of new flavors “was an extremely cool move,” said Tate’s bartender Austin Gurley. And to choose DFW as one of few venues to unveil it was an honor, too. “Dallas has stepped up in the cocktail world,” he said.

None of us were botanically informed enough at the time to ask whether this elusive Venezuelan plant was the same scorpion tail wildflower found throughout Florida and southern Texas. Maybe climatic differences make that a moot point, anyway. Yet despite the proclamation that Kanaracuni would never be available for retail, one had to think Hendrick’s would ultimately decide whether to produce more based on how it was received during this exclusive tour. Wouldn’t they?

Hendrick's Gin
Bartender Juli Naida of Barter enjoys a gourd drink now and then.

But I later found an October 2013 article from London’s Daily Telegraph that detailed the same jungle narrative and noted that Gracie was then working on the final recipe for a small batch that would be available in 2014. A short time earlier, at London Cocktail Week, Hendricks’ Britain ambassador Duncan McRae had said the entire batch would be drunk during a series of special events the next year.“There is something quite special about a drink made in a finite quantity being entirely consumed over a short period,” McRae said then. “Once it’s been drunk, it will be gone forever.”

And if that’s truly the case, we had been part of a real adventure indeed.

Gin
The makings of a uniquely mystical and improbable tasting event at the Dallas Zoo.