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.”
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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.
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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.
My favorites of 2019: At center, Homewood’s Golden Amaranth; clockwise from top left, the Inca Knife Fight at Henry’s Majestic; Ruins’ Sierra Outkast; Bourbon and Banter’s Ducktail; Five Sixty’s Paper Crane; Proper’s Pandan Swizzle; the Liberty Spikes at Bourbon and Banter; Midnight Rambler’s Seasick Crocodile; and the Spanish Gin & Tonic at Beverley’s.
DFW, you finally bested me. There was no way to keep up with
the flurry of craft cocktails springing forth from the minds of the metropolis’
mix masters in 2019, with newcomers like Deep Ellum’s Ebb & Flow, Las
Palmas in Uptown, downtown’s Te Deseo and The Charles in the Design District
padding the bounty.
On Fitzhugh, La Viuda Negra executed a Thor-like landing with its urban-Mexico-inspired vibe and a lineup of smartly conceived drinks both agave-centric and photogenic, while Eddie Campbell’s Clover Club debuted with swanky swagger above Cedar Springs in Uptown.
There was seemingly little left under the sun to drive innovation, but surprises flourished nonetheless: At Bourbon and Banter, Hugo Osorio’s Ducktail softened Scotch with sweet citrus while his Liberty Spikes fluttered with coyly bittersweet flavor; both (see photo above) were among my favorite drinks of the year.
At Proper in Fort Worth, so was Lisa Adams’ Pandan Swizzle, which blended the nuttiness of amontillado sherry with the sweetness of its lovely signature herb. At Five Sixty, the always-crafty James Slater also employed pandan in his Paper Crane, a smooth twist on the classic Paper Plane, while Midnight Rambler’s Chad Solomon medicated his absinthe-laden Seasick Crocodile with poblano juice and Thai chile.
At Homewood on Oak Lawn, golden beet and orange leapt like dolphins across an sea of gin in Lauren Festa’s Golden Amaranth, while in Plano, there was definitely Something About Rosemary in Whiskey Cake’s nicely balanced drink of the same name. The Spanish Gin & Tonic at Beverley’s was nothing less than sublime, while in Knox-Henderson, Alex Fletcher’s Inca Knife Fight conquered my palate with coconut Pisco Sour flair.
Rounding out my year’s faves: At Ruins in Deep Ellum, Peter Novotny’s impressive Sierra Outkast — a nod to tiki’s Navy Grog — blended Oaxacan gin and rum with Swedish aquavit and garnished it with tri-color coconut candy. Meanwhile, La Viuda Negra made Mexican magic with the dazzling Purple Drink, featuring Michoacan rum and butterfly pea flower, and the terrific, raicilla-based El Papazote.
The decade saw craft cocktails grow from infancy to maturity in D-FW, led by The Usual in Fort Worth (which just marked its 10th anniversary) and then scattered, early Dallas pioneers like The Cedars Social, Victor Tangos, Bolsa, Private/Social, Windmill Lounge, Black Swan Saloon and The People’s Last Stand, along with Whiskey Cake in Plano. As our palates grew more discerning and adventurous, the quality and quantity of spirits, liqueurs and exotic ingredients grew to meet the demand. And as momentum slowed as talent scattered and pioneering bars fell by the wayside, top-notch newcomers rose up to create new energy, such as Las Almas Rotas in Fair Park; Jettison in West Dallas; Hide, Shoals Sound & Service and Ruins in Deep Ellum.
Bartenders crafted ingredients using chef-driven methods like sous vide and molecular gastronomy; others introduced us to Japanese shochu and sake, Spanish sherries and Mexico’s broad palette of agave-based spirits; we saw cocktails garnished with seaweed and tongue-numbing buzz button; we nibbled on roasted grasshoppers while sipping mezcal.
The community itself became a force, too: We saw the local bar and spirits industry come together to raise thousands of dollars for tornado and hurricane relief, for hospitalized kids and for the medical expenses of those in their own bar community family. In 2018, the scene collectively grieved the loss of three beloved barmen, Armoury’s Chad Yarbrough, Ian Brooks of Brick and Bones and Josh Meeks of Henry’s Majestic. And we saw the industry’s women in DFW become a force for change and advancement, with efforts such as The Shake Up, an all-female competition now in its second year raising money for women’s charities.
You’ve come a long way, DFW. Likewise, my tastes have changed, and over time I grew to appreciate drinks I hadn’t ranked so highly in the past or to reconsider others that I had. Looking back, about 40 of them stood out for their creativity, innovation, timeworn allure, and/or that one ingredient I couldn’t stop thinking about. In the spirit of the New Year, here, in alphabetical order, are my favorite 20 DFW cocktails of the last decade.
Jenkins’ Alpine Blues: A heady expression of forest growth in a glass.
Jenkins, resident mixmaster at Deep Ellum’s Hide, killed it in 2018 with his Oaxacan Shaman, a masterful mezcal-aguardiente mashup, and his lusciously butternutty Quest for the Sun, a sunflower-seed-infused vodka vehicle. But my favorite of all was his Alpine Blues: A whirlwind trip to the mountains had filled him with memories of brisk, chilly air and damp ground covered in foliage. Those longings inspired this reflection of nature’s growth: Nux walnut liqueur, he said, formed the base soil, deep and rich with decomposing nettles; blueberry-influenced Pasubio, an alpine bitter liqueur, was the surface – “earthy and fruity; there’s still some life in it;” Cap Corse, a quinine aperitif, and clarified lemon juice represented new growth, with the bitter citrus of biting into a young stem; Singani 63, a botanical Bolivian brandy, was the blossom. “There were specific slopes and colors in my mind,” he says. “It made me have the blues not to be there.”
AUTUMN IN BRAZIL – Jason Pollard, The Usual (2018)
I could have waxed all season about Pollard’s luscious Autumn in Brazil.
In 2016, Brazil’s national spirit enjoyed a brief moment in the D-FW sun, with drinks such as Spencer Shelton’s wonderful Rio Julep at Bolsa capitalizing on Amburana’s spiced banana bread notes. Two years later at The Usual, the Magnolia Avenue mainstay in Fort Worth, Pollard built on those caramel, vanilla flavors and added the rich nuttiness of sherry, then rounded it out with Cocchi di Torino sweet vermouth and caramel-esque demerara syrup. With hints of raisin, chocolate and cinnamon and the aroma of musky grapes, this was a sensational seasonal sipper.
For too short a time, we sipped many a care away with this caraway-flavored goodness.
By 2013, the scene had seen the rise of its first reservations-only cocktail den with Bar Smyth, which along withe People’s also featured one of the finest compilations of behind-the-bar talent ever seen in Dallas. There was no menu at this dimly lit, short-lived Knox-Henderson speakeasy, so maybe I actually waltzed in and asked YeeFoon, now co-owner of Shoals Sound & Service in Deep Ellum, to make something with aquavit, Scandinavia’s caraway-flavored liqueur. More likely it was something that YeeFoon just happened to be playing with that day. Whatever it was, this frothy number, employing Averna and an egg-white canvas, inspired lasting intrigue with its splash of sarsaparilla and a creative touch of soft sesame on the nose.
The Black Monk’s aromas and flavors led me on multiple meditative journeys, yet I remained unknowing of all its seductive secrets.
Planted at the bar of this redo of Uptown’s pioneering Private/Social, I pretty much went bonkers trying to decipher the Black Monk’s enigmatic flavor. The smoky-flavored drink was tricky to pin down, greater than the sum of its parts: Brown blended Jameson Black Barrel Reserve Irish Whiskey, bittersweet Averna, the honey-ish Benedictine and a bit of rye-and-sarsaparilla-flavored basement bitters with a tincture made with tonka bean, vanilla bean and lemongrass. Every time I tried it, shoe leather images popped into my head, but in a most comforting way: The notes shuffing across my tongue included molasses, root beer, pecan pie, cooked honey, even smoky flan. The Black Monk was not for everyone – but for those who enjoy a good cigar, this one was a triumph.
BUZZ-CAT – staff at Boulevardier (2015)
Old
Tom gin, Earl Grey tea-infused honey syrup, apple bitters, lemon, ginger, baked
apple garnish
At Boulevardier, bar manager Eddie Eakin’s 2013 cocktail got a sweet-as-Vermont-honey makeover that was wicked good.
The craft-cocktail renaissance inspired a resurgence of classic spirits, among them Old Tom gin, the spirit’s 18th-century, slightly sweeter cousin. My favorite is the barrel-aged Tom Cat, made by Vermont’s Barr Hill, a former bee farm that infuses its spirits with a signature honey flavor. Tom Cat also happens to be sold in distinctive, small bottles that were just the size that bar manager Eddie Eakin of Bishop Arts’ Boulevardier wanted for his syrups and juices. He ordered a batch of Tom Cat for his bartenders, who began subbing it for standard gin in the Steep Buzz, a celebrated cocktail Eakin had devised in 2013. With a baked apple slice garnish, the Buzz-Cat was a honey-perfect blend of autumny, apple-pie aroma, herbal Tom Cat spice and lingering lemon-ginger bite. “We were just trying to pour through it,” bartender Ashley Williams said. “And it just caught on.”
DAMNED AND DETERMINED – Brad Bowden, Parliament (2014)
Sugar and spice and everything nice: Bowden’s divergent path showed quien es mas Ancho.
Bowden, who you’ll find these days at East Dallas’ Lounge Here, didn’t care much for Ancho Reyes, the ancho-chile-flavored liqueur that became my crush of 2014, following in the footsteps of botanical Hum and bitter Suze. But when the slightly spicy, vanilla-tinged blend started earning national recognition, Bowden — then at Uptown’s Parliament — said he felt “damned and determined” to do something with it. Ancho’s bite made it a natural fit for tequila or mezcal, “but that’s what everyone else was doing,” he says (accurately). Instead, he took rum, his preferred spirit, and devised what’s essentially a tiki drink, adding sweetly vegetal Green Chartreuse to Papa’s Pilar blonde – “Rum and Green Chartreuse go together like nobody’s business,” he says – along with egg white and a tropical pineapple-vanilla syrup. The egg white gives the ancho a soft bed to lie on; the syrup binds it all together. A last flourish of Angostura bitters atop makes it a magic carpet ride, frothy and floral with a sweet and spicy descent.
DOUBLE UNDER – Emily Arseneau, H&G Sply (2013)
Beet-infused tequila, triple sec, citrus, rosemary syrup, salt
Mad beetz: Arseneau’s refreshingly vegetal Double Under at H&G Sply.
Who doesn’t love beets? Okay, a lot of people doesn’t love beets. But properly speaking, for those of us who do, this radiant refresher ably answers the call – a simple mix of lively beet-infused tequila, lime and rosemary syrup. Arseneau – now with liquor giant Remy Cointreau – modified this creation by Portland’s Jacob Wallace for the drink list at Lower Greenville’s H&G Sply, toying with the proportions and adding Cointreau; “it’s supposed to be an earthier Margarita that never feels out of season,” she says. The taste is sour beet moxie and tangy lime, with a slight hint of herb. Unabashedly red with a flirty half-skirt of glittery salt, it was a stunner to look at, too.
EL PAPAZOTE – Saul Avila Hernandez, La Viuda Negra (2019)
Raicilla, lime, sherry, epazote syrup
The funky nature of raicilla, an agave-based spirit produced in Mexico’s Jalisco state, was given wings to fly in La Viuda Negra’s El Papazote. (Photo courtesy of Javier Villalva)
Brothers Javier and Luis Villalva’s La Viuda Negra (“The Black Widow”) on Fitzhugh was my favorite addition to the scene in 2019, with a modern rustic interior and delicious cocktails both inventive and sometimes whimsically presented. My favorite of the bunch was El Papazote, which achieved magnificence with its crafty use of funky raicilla, an agave-based spirit still uncommon beyond its native state of Jalisco. Avila gave La Venenosa’s Costa de Jalisco the sweet-and-sour treatment with lime, a dash of sherry and a syrup made with epazote, a leafy herb found in southern Mexico that accents the raicilla’s fruity-floral earthiness.
FLEUR DE FEU – Austin Millspaugh, The Standard Pour (2017)
Elderflower liqueur, green chile liqueur, Angostura bitters, cream
At Standard Pour, Millspaugh’s Fleur de Feu.
At Uptown’s Standard Pour, this creamy off-menu creation, with a name meaning “flower of fire,” was a low-proof treat, a deceptively sweet drink that actually leaned savory. Millspaugh, whose penchant for cocktail alchemy had previously produced a nifty Cognac spin on the classic gin Bijou, was once again inspired: He mixed St. Germain and Ancho Reyes liqueurs with Angostura bitters and poured them into a nifty Nick and Nora glass, then topped it all with a thin layer of cream that he torched it for a burnt marshmallow effect. The result unveiled a stunning contrast between the foamy top and wine-clear body below; the creamy fats lent texture and depth to a bouquet of floral and spicy flavors with smoky overtones. “You think it’s going to be sweet, but your notions are debunked the second you sip it,” he said.
MADAME HUMMINGBIRD – Lauren Festa, Flora Street Cafe (2016)
Vodka, botanical liqueur, honey-piquillo syrup
At Flora Street Cafe, Festa’s Madame Hummingbird made Hum liqueur great again.
Way back when Rocco Milano helmed the bar at Private/Social, may it rest in peace, he introduced me to Hum, a remarkably profuse hibiscus cordial offering notes of cardamom, clove, ginger and kaffir lime. A love affair was born; I couldn’t get enough of the stuff, and though the fling ran its course, it was always good to see an old flame. At Stephan Pyles’ then-newly opened (and now newly closed) downtown restaurant, that’s how Festa –now at Homewood — lured me in; her flower-garnished cocktail let sturdy Absolut Elyx act as handler, reining in Hum’s exuberance, but the real dash of brilliance was a chili syrup that added a tantalizing jolt of heat. “Hum and heat go well together,” she said. “It brings out the spices.”
MALTA – James Slater, Network Bar (2017)
Italian bitter liqueur, French bitter ginger liqueur, turbinado sugar syrup, blackberries
At members-only Network Bar, James Slater’s Malta was berry, berry good.
Several years earlier, when Slater (now at Five Sixty) helmed the bar at now-defunct Spoon, he wowed with an off-the-cuff, darkly bittersweet Fernet-based creation he ultimately called Blue Moon, and he’s been riffing on it ever since. During a brief stint as bar director for the members-only club at Trinity Groves, his newest spin on the drink was a winner: Still mining the bitter mint depths of Fernet, it subbed blackberries for blue and ginger-forward Amer Gingembre for less aggressive Averna. The lush Gingembre tamed the harshness of its predecessor; think of the Malta as a boozy berry detox juice with a dollop of licorice-like sweetness.
Jesse Powell’s boozy play on the classic Indian refresher was a work of mango-nificence.
During a trip to Chicago’s Pub Royale, an Anglo-Indian-style tavern, in early 2018, Powell — now a local gin and tequila ambassador– discovered the joys of the mango lassi, India’s traditional mango milkshake. Naturally, as he savored its mix of yogurt, mango, milk and sugar, he wondered: How can I translate this into a cocktail? He came through like a champ, structuring the beverage’s viscous, sour-sweet depths atop a foundation of El Dorado 5-year, then garnishing the Creamsicle-orange drink with cool mint and a clever rim of Mexican tajin, the chili powder that often graces that country’s mango street snacks. Poured over crushed ice, it was a tasty summer refresher I still found myself craving in the cold of winter.
It was actually bartender Sam Gillespie, then of The Mitchell in downtown Dallas, who introduced me in late 2017 to the notion of a Sazerac built on smoky mezcal rather than the classic rye or cognac. His simple switch of spirit was solid and satisfying — but then, the very next day, I dropped by the Theodore, the former NorthPark Center lair where barman Hugo Osorio was unspooling impressive off-menu creations in his spare time. When I asked what he was working on, he replied: “How about a mezcal Sazerac?” Osorio made the drink his own by adding the wintry cinnamon spice of tiki bitters and replacing sugar with a bit of sweet tawny port, serving up a spectacular cold-weather sipper.
ONE MILLION IN UNMARKED BILLS — Pam Moncrief, The Usual (2014)
Old Tom gin, Hungarian bitter liqueur, dry vermouth, herbal honey liqueur, lemon oils
Moncrief’s use of Ransom Old Tom gin inspired the name for this fantastic floral foray.
In 2014, I was deep into herbal liqueur exploration, curious to see what bartenders were doing with amaro and other European-based bottlings. One evening at The Usual, Moncrief , who now runs a cocktail pop-up business in Fort Worth, had been experimenting with a blend of Ransom Old Tom gin, herbal Zwack liqueur, Dolin Blanc vermouth and Benedictine, creating a gentle, well-rounded drink with spicy depths. Floral and grape gave way to a honey-bitter finish with a tang that lingered like nightclub ear, with a dose of lemon oils atop adding a nice citrus nose. “I just really enjoy herbaceousness,” Moncrief said. “Zwack and all those amaros are so herbaceous, and I feel like they don’t show up in cocktails enough.” On that we could agree.
ROME IS BURNING – Robbie Call, Vicini (2016)
French orange bitter liqueur, mezcal, Italian bitter liqueur, anise liqueur
Call’s response to bitter and smoky: The marvelous Rome Is Burning.
Vicini, we barely knew ye. The Frisco-based Italian restaurant’s all-too-brief run may have been a flash in the risotto pan, but it was long enough for Call to have some fun behind the stick. One slow Sunday, I put the lanky bar veteran, now assistant food and beverage manager at The Statler Hotel, on the spot by asking for something bitter and smoky. His off-the-cuff answer was genius, possibly my favorite on this entire list: A rush of French China-China and Italian Meletti anchored by mezcal and a rounding touch of Herbsaint – bitter orange and chocolate-caramel, grounded in depths of smoke and anise. Simply garnished with an orange peel, it was all I wanted in a glass, a mirepoix of worldly influences. “I’m a big fan of letting amaro drive the car and having the mezcal creep in,” Call said. So am I, Robbie. So am I.
SEPPUKU REALE – Andrew Stofko, Victor Tangos (2016)
Italian bitter liqueurs, furikake syrup, lemon, seaweed, furikake
Stofko’s Guinness-black Seppuku Reale artfully merged Italian and Japanese influences.
Amaro Montenegro is a jewel among Italian bitters; it leans toward sweet and herbal with its acridity evident only in tow. In 2016, Stofko, then at Knox-Henderson’s since-closed Victor Tangos, won a local contest with this unexpectedly intriguing taste detour: He reined in Montenegro’s sweetness with a syrup made from furikake (a Japanese spice mix of sesame seed, seaweed, sea salt and bonito flakes), upped the bitter component with Gran Classico liqueur, then added lemon to round it out. The citrus, however, turned the drink unpleasantly dark, so Stofko went all-in and added a bit of squid ink to turn it Guinness-black. The garnish was his piece-de-resistance – a sprinkling of roasted sesame seeds on a skiff of seaweed floating atop the inky sea. Bring the drink to your nose and your palate was awakened with hints of savory Japanese; instead, you got something completely different – bewitchingly bittersweet taste tempered with piquant nuttiness. “That’s umami in a glass,” said Stofko, now bar manager at Te Deseo in downtown Dallas. “I’m just glad (Victor Tangos) let me put it on the menu.”
SLEEPY COYOTE – George Kaiho and Andrew Kelly, Jettison (2018)
The Sleepy Coyote, a coffee-infused gem from Jettison’s Kaiho and Kelly, got me woke.
Kaiho and Kelly, the personable one-two punch behind the bar at Jettison, Houndstooth Coffee’s sister bar in West Dallas, wanted to create a cocktail using horchata, the Mexican cinnamon rice milk. Specifically, as a popular after-dinner destination, they wanted to craft a dessert drink, so as fans of The Big Lebowski they devised this buzzy riff on a White Russian, using a base of banana-funky Paranubes infused with coffee, cold-brew style. To that they added cinnamon syrup and a splash of spicy Ancho Reyes liqueur, then poured it over crushed ice to unleash rich, fruity cinnamon coffee with a kick.
SOUTHPAW STREETCAR – Alex Fletcher, Henry’s Majestic (2016)
Cognac, persimmon shrub, citrus, clove dust
Fletcher’s Sidecar variation transported you to a winter wonderland.
With drinks such as his miso-inflected Art of War (2013) and a daiquiri featuring a German smoked beer (2014), Alex Fletcher – now beverage director for Dallas’ Hospitality Alliance and AT&T Discovery District – has proven to be among the cleverest of DFW bartenders. In 2016, he concocted this winter wonder at Knox-Henderson’s Henry’s Majestic, where he was GM. Using a batch of his chef’s foraged persimmons, he crafted a shrub – a fruity, concentrated syrup tanged up with vinegar – and consequently my favorite Sidecar variation ever. A taste of the Southpaw Streetcar bounced along in tangy sweetness when suddenly, BAM! a burst of clove bathed you in winter-fire warmth. Sugar-plum visions danced in your head; in the distance, the jingling of sleigh bells and the sound of muffled hoofbeats in snow – and wait, was that Nana calling? Are the tamales steamed and ready? Oh wait – that was just Fletcher, asking if everything was OK and why your eyes had been closed for the last 10 minutes.
SPEAK OF THE DEVIL – Peter Novotny, Armoury (2015)
Pisco, plum liqueur, lemon, egg white, simple syrup, Port
Novotny plum’d the depths of his Hungarian upbringing to create this snazzy riff on the classic Pisco Sour.
At Armoury in Deep Ellum, Novotny’s zippy take on the underappreciated Pisco Sour was inspired by his own Hungarian background. “I grew up on Hungarian liqueurs like Pecsetes,” he said, referring to a native apricot brandy. “It’s basically an eau de vie, like pisco. They’re like Hungarian moonshine.” As a fan of sours, he took the Pisco Sour recipe of un-aged brandy, citrus, simple syrup, egg white and Peruvian chuncho bitters and added Hungarian Slivovitz plum liqueur, with a boost of Pedro Ximenez Port for extra plum flavor. The result was a delightfully fruity-sweet homage to classic and cultural origins.
TIGER STYLE – Chad Solomon, Midnight Rambler (2016)
Solomon’s Tiger Style was a passion fruit wildcat, my favorite among a stellar lineup of exotic cocktails he debuted in 2016, classified as “gritty tiki.”
Chad Solomon’s seasonal drink menus at this downtown Dallas gem are thoughtfully thematic and often exotic, and he was at the top of his game in 2016; his Coconut Cooler, a gin-and-sherry blend sweetened with Southeast Asian pandan, highlighted spring and offered a hint of what was to come – a powerhouse summer menu of “gritty tiki” drinks reflecting Asian, African and South American influences. The Filipino-Indonesian-accented Tiger Style was my fave, a seemingly light mix incorporating a rum-like Indonesian spirit, passion-fruit-esque calamansi, palm sugar and a tincture made from pippali (Indian long pepper) that nonetheless packed a punch. A spritz of earthy cassia aromatics atop a dehydrated lime made it a triumph of creamy orange spice dashed with a hint of Fireball cologne. “The more you drink it, the more your lips tingle,” Solomon said, quite accurately. “It takes you into the exotic, and intentionally so.”
THE NEXT 10:
Colada No. 2, Chad Yarbrough, Armoury D.E. (2017)
Delight, Scott Jenkins, Hide (2017)
Earth Wind and Fire, George Kaiho, Jettison (2018)
Grapes Three Ways, Annika Loureiro, The Cedars Social (2016)
Holy Smoke, Hector Zavala, Atwater Alley (2015)
I’ll Get To It, Josh Maceachern, The Cedars Social (2013)
Monkeying Around, Sam Gillespie, The Mitchell (2018)
Sesame Daiquiri, Jordan Gantenbein, Abacus (2015)
Stripper Sweat, Jackson Tran, Cosmo’s Bar & Lounge (2012)
Booze news and adventures in cocktailing, based In Dallas, Texas, USA. By Marc Ramirez, your humble scribe and boulevardier. All content and photos mine unless otherwise indicated. http://typewriterninja.com
