You've probably noticed that we're deep into a cocktail revival. You know, all the zany martini menus and Eisenhower chic that's infected some places. Blame it on the popularity of "Mad Men," but it seems like everyone is ordering drinks our grandparents served: Old Fashioneds, Manhattans, Sidecars. The standard-issue American home bar is experiencing a renaissance similar to what's happened in American kitchens over the last 20 years. There's a resurgence of interest in the old-school art of mixing a good drink.
And this may come as a surprise, but according to some folks (bartenders, mostly), you can't have a cocktail without bitters. That's right, bitters, that old sticky little paper-wrapped bottle of Angostura. The first known usage of the word cocktail — dating from a newspaper story in 1806 — seems to indicate that the original definition connoted a drink made with spirits and bitters. Some stickler/wordsmith bartenders (generally the kind who have funny mustaches) still stand by that distinction.
As leading cocktail historian David Wondrich writes in his book Imbibe! there is a resurgence in interest in bitters. (Though anecdotal evidence suggests that the resurgence is more among geaked-out bartenders and history buffs than your average bar-goer.)
"Fortunately, the return of the Cocktail has brought in its wake a renewed interest in bitters," writes Wondrich, "and every year brings more varieties on the market."
He's right. The Vermont-based Urban Moonshine company just introduced a line of organic bitters in three different flavors: original, maple and citrus.
Like wine, or beer or whiskey, there are numerous varieties of bitters, some medicinal, some fruity, some intense and some bizarre. What's more, bitters — since you administer them with an eye-dropper in some cases — tend to up the mad-scientist, apothecary element of mixology. Check out the ingredient list on the "original" variety of bitters from Urban Moonshine: It includes dandelion root and leaf, angelica root, burdock root, orange peel, fennel seed, yellow dock root, gentian root, ginger and more.
It's got a concentrated, mineral intensity, with the sting of dandelion, the vapor of citrus and the earthiness of fennel all coming through, sinking into your gums, hugging your teeth, as you sip it (you can get it in a spray bottle, and spritz the mist onto your tongue to "stimulate" digestion, or you can put a couple drops into seltzer water or ginger ale.) It evokes Indian cooking and health food co-ops for me. The maple variety was similar, but with a sweet finish, definitely a hint of maple syrup, but not cloying. Using a recipe involving vodka, citrus bitters, ginger ale and lime juice, I made a cocktail that was refreshing and elusive, the kind of easy-to-drink concoction that sends you back to the bar again and again.
I spoke with David Alan Roth, the bartender at Hartford's Koji. Roth — who won Best Bartender in the Advocate's Readers' Poll last year — said he'd made his own bitters, using a base spirit and different combinations of herbs and flavors.
"Being into mixology, you like to see how it's made. It's more of a hands-on technique," he said.
Roth and a fellow bartender are in the process of establishing the state chapter of The United States Bartender Guild, an organization that has chapters in New York, Chicago and Miami. It's a group devoted to sharing information among bartenders. Boutique recipes for bitters may be some of the trade secrets that get swapped among the guild members.
"Anything that you can do that's small and artisanal that you can do yourself, it let's people know that you care about what you do," says Roth.
Making your own bitters may impress your bartending buddies, but it wasn't long ago that that was also the easiest way to get a hard-to-find component central to good cocktails.
"Bitters, until recently, were hard to come by," says Roth.
Now you can find a decent selection at fine spirit shops, and sites for companies like Fee Brothers, The Bitter Truth and Buffalo Trace offer a range of once hard-to-find bitters.
"Bitters originally were medicinal in nature. When added to a cocktail it adds a complexity to the drink," says Roth. "Bitters, back in the day, in the 1800s, people would drink them straight."
In 2008 the Louisiana Legislature voted to make the sazerac the official cocktail of New Orleans. At the time many people noted that New Orleans seemed to deserve an official cocktail as much as any other city in America. After Katrina, those folks deserved a good stiff, state-sanctioned, drink. But many were perplexed as to why the sazerac received that particular honor. You could say it hinges on a bit of regional bitters pride. The sazerac is made with rye whiskey, sugar, an absinthe rinse, and a few dashes of Peychaud's bitters (a brand long associated with New Orleans). If the legislature solves the state's budget problems along with all the other bill-writing challenges set for itself, perhaps our lawmakers can finally get around to deciding what the official Connecticut cocktail will be.
Let me suggest the Hot Sangaree. There's no bitters, so technically it's not a cocktail. But it's made with hot brandy, sugar and a nutmeg sprinkle!