Propeller Skies

I fired up the internet and ordered some Fee Brothers products from Kegworks, amusingly located in Buffalo, New York, after discovering Toco Giant and Decatur Wine and Spirits carry a limited amount of Fee Brothers’ product line. My shipment included some Fee Brothers American Beauty grenadine, so I mixed up a Jack Rose.

I started with the Jack Rose version found in Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails. The Jack Rose poured a gorgeous deep red, which was almost purple. I suspect this would be a popular cocktail in Midtown. It would likely cause substantial anger as well, because it looks sweet but is not. The secret is difficult to find real pomegranate grenadine, which is not disgustingly sweet like certain popular brands.

The first taste is delicious lemon citrus sharpness. Then comes a hint of apple. Finally the pomegranate flavor of the grenadine comes through in the slightly sweet finish.

As the Jack Rose can also be made using lime, next I tried the recipe in Cocktail: The Drinks Bible for the 21st Century. This version of the Jack Rose increases the Applejack and grenadine, while substituting lime for lemon. As expected, more grenadine makes the drink sweeter, but using lime mitigates this. The key difference is the extra grenadine pushes the apple flavor far into the background. While it was sweeter, I liked this version of the Jack Rose best.

The Jack Rose is recommended and will have a place in my regular cocktail rotation. Try one today, if some real pomegranate grenadine is on hand.

Sunday, I decided to stick it to Big Brother by mixing up a classic Whiskey Sour. The recipe in my favorite bar book called for two ounces of blended whiskey and another two ounces of lemon juice, which I found absurd. So I busted out American Bar, amusingly written by a German, Charles Schumann.

Mr. Schumann’s Whiskey Sour recipe had far more sensible proportions, so I mixed one up - except I substituted Rye for Bourbon. The results were all right, but far too sweet, with the sugar overpowering the lemon. For the second round, I omitted an extraneous bar spoon of sugar and came up with the following:

• 1.5 ounces Rye;
• 0.75 ounces lemon juice; and
• 0.25 ounces simple syrup.

Shake vigorously in an iced cocktail shaker and serve in a sour glass*.

Much better. Alert drunks will note that this recipe is similar to the Frisco - which uses Benedictine as a sweetener instead of simple syrup and features slightly more whiskey.

A classic cocktail worth trying, the Whiskey Sour is recommended. However, I likely will not mix them on a regular basis, as I have several other favorites.

The other day I gave Fee Brothers a call to see if any of their fine syrups and bitters were available in the greater Atlanta area. Much to my surprise, they do have distribution down here and pointed me to Toco Giant and Decatur Wine and Spirits. So I went on a mission to the east side to acquire some Fee Brothers items.

My first stop was Toco Giant, which did indeed carry roughly three different Fee Brothers syrups. None of which I was looking for. I picked up a bottle of Fee Brother’s Falernum and scored some rare Marie Brizard Triple Sec, so the trip was not a total waste. Next, I paid a visit to Decatur Wine and Spirits - they carry the full line of Fee Brothers bitters. While there, I noticed they also stock Luxardo Maraschino liqueur.

Upon returning home, I needed to find a recipe to try out my shiny new bottle of Falernum, so I turned to my copy of Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails and found the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club Cocktail. Consisting of rum, lime juice, and with Falernum and Cointreau as a sweetener instead of simple syrup, the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club Cocktail is a strange kind of daiquiri.

I made mine with Bacardi instead of the prescribed Barbados rum, as that is what I had handy. The concoction poured almost white, with a nice citrus bouquet. The Royal Bermuda Yacht Club Cocktail has a light refreshing citrus flavor, with a hint of the exotic added by the Falernum. I stuck to the recipe for the first one, but could not taste the Cointreau, so I doubled it for taste test number two. Much improved. I highly recommend the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club and it makes a tres dope summer cocktail.

As I am a huge fan of Martinis and enjoy the odd Manhattan, I was looking forward to trying the Algonquin, which is made with rye whiskey, dry vermouth, and pineapple juice. I expected it to taste like the bastard child of the two previously mentioned cocktails with a touch of pineapple.

Instead, the Algonquin highlights the flavor of the rye very well, with subtle pineapple in the finish. Unfortunately, I discovered I do not like whiskey mixed with dry vermouth. When in the mood for whiskey and vermouth, I much prefer a Manhattan or Rob Roy, which require sweet instead of dry. And when in the mood for rye, I find a Frisco or Sazerac hit the spot much better.

I will not be making the Algonquin again. However, it was worthwhile to mix up a few for the purposes of scientific inquiry.

After eating some tasty food at JCT Kitchen, the hardcore partiers moved on to Top Floor. Strangely, despite being located in Atlanta, Top Floor is not an Atlanta bar. The bar ambiance is similar to something one might find in the PGH, or the northeast in general. Top Floor reminded me of The Grille on Seventh.

fail

Being an aspiring mixologist, I always scope out the liquors and liqueurs on the top shelf to ascertain the mojo of the bar. Top Floor had a bottle of Lillet Blanc, so I asked for a Vesper. I did not see the bartender pull the Lillet off the top shelf, so I was surprised when he put a drink down in front of me. The drink was most certainly not a Vesper, but it was citrusy and rather tasty, so I did not knife the bastard.

pass

Later in the evening, Bartender Number Two showed up and The Apple Fanboy ordered me another Vesper. Bartender Number Two hooked a cracka up with a proper Vesper. He also stated, wrongly, I might add, that the Vesper was a fictional drink. In truth, the Vesper was created by a bartender patronized regularly by Ian Fleming. Apparently, Mr. Fleming enjoyed the drink so much he included it in his novel.

Towards the end of the night, I observed Bartender Number Two squeezing fresh limes. Any bar that uses fresh fruit is top notch, and a rarity indeed.

Top Floor is a great neighborhood bar and was the highlight of the evening. Too bad the joint is not in my neighborhood.

I attended a birthday party at JCT Kitchen over the weekend. I walked in with an attitude problem because I had been looking forward to eating at Ecco - mostly because I could pregame, MARTA up there, drink all I wanted, and MARTA back home. Also, Ecco is ranked number 46 on the Jizzabel 100 best Atlanta restaurants list*, whereas JCT Kitchen is nowhere to be found in the top 100. Unfortunately, someone is popular, so the party was too large for Ecco to handle.

the upstairs bar

Prior to eating, we met in the bar for a few drinks. I liked the bar better in its previous incarnation as the Onyx Bar. However, this version is better than the thankfully defunct Suzy Wong’s Lounge.

A key issue is the weak sauce beer list. The brews on offer are reasonable, however the list is far too short. Some North Coast Brewing India Pale Ale would improve it, for starters.

A sorry beer list could be mitigated by a decent cocktail selection and bartenders with solid mixing skills. Cocktails were not being shaken long enough to chill them properly, so I ordered from the truncated beer list. Additionally, the top shelf liquor and liqueur display lacked anything interesting or rare. Seriously, how fucking hard is it to hire some decent bartenders and stock a few obscure liqueurs? Come up with a signature drink, or clever twist on a classic, using the aforementioned difficult to find liqueurs and I would be impressed.

the dining room

In the interest of being fair and balanced like Fox News, I need to mention now that I fucking hate southern food. The only acceptable item I found on the menu was pork tenderloin served with bleu cheese scalloped potatoes.

One of the more irritating features of the menu was the bogus side selections. I was interested in the rainbow trout wrapped in bacon, because anything wrapped in pork is fucking awesome, but the side disgusted me. Seriously, what the fuck kind of side is vidalia onion puree, sweet corn, pickled shallots, spiced pecans and arugula? Am I supposed to eat that shit? Way to ruin a perfectly good dish, fucktards. A dope side would have been french fries and macaroni and cheese. Leave it to southerners to fuck up the inherent excellence of anything wrapped in bacon.

Fortunately, the pork tenderloin was off the chain. Otherwise, I would have had to cut some fools. The pork was incredibly tender - before I tasted it I thought someone fucked up because it flaked apart like fish. The bleu cheese scalloped potatoes were also delicious, although diced would be a more accurate term.

obligatory waitress review

While our waitress was a reasonably attractive brunette, the folks one table away got a much better deal. Their waitress was [1] blonde, and [2] had bigger knockers - with her shirt unbuttoned just enough to show some delicious cleavage.

waffling like a democratic presidential candidate

While I would never go back, JCT Kitchen is recommended for those who like [1] southern food, and [2] a Buckhead crowd. I enjoyed my entree, but it was the only thing on the menu that I was interested in, so there is no point in returning. Finally, the men’s bathroom inexplicably lacked urinals. If I wanted to piss in a toilet, I would stay home.

notes:

* Not that I give a fuck about what Jizzabel thinks, bunch of bourgeoisie bitches anyway.

For this installment of Sunday Sours, we be getting our exotic on up in this bitch and mixing with a South American joie de vivre as the base spirit. As an aside, bored Prizzo Skeezy readers may want to pay a visit to the days of way back and see a previous Pisco Sour review.

The Pisco Sour pours yellow with a bit of pink from Angostura Bitters. On the first sip, tart lemon hits the palate like LT sacking a quarterback. Next comes the fire of the Pisco. Finally, a bitter, but pleasant aftertaste lingers. The Pisco Sour is a sharp light libation that is highly recommended.

While the internet is littered with arguments over the origination of Pisco and the sour, one point of consensus is that the cocktail was originally concocted as a daring alternative to the common place (at the time) Whiskey Sour. While the beverage is fairly minimalist, it is also quite potent - drink enough of these and looking for ends on an infinite line will seem like a good idea.

I recommend searching for and obtaining Peruvian Pisco - Chile exports substantially more, but Peruvian is the original and best. In Atlanta, the genuine product from Peru can be found at Green’s on Ponce.

notes:

Leave it to the fucking wankers in Los Angeles to fuck up perfectly good cocktail recipes with a shit ton of extraneous fruit. The best day of my life is going to be when the San Andreas fault cracks completely and dumps the whole god forsaken state of California into the ocean. Seriously, the last good thing to come out of there was The Doors - in fucking 1960.

The Man was keeping me down in downtown Atlanta today. While there, I witnessed the following stupidity.

the dumbass

Courtland Street is a one way street comprised of five southbound lanes. While moseying down the sidewalk, I observed a fucktard from Missouri in a Pontiac Vibe who was clearly lost. He was attempting to cut across three lanes of traffic to enter the Sheraton parking lot. Unfortunately, he was slowing down while attempting this maneuver. When he got to the second to left lane, he abruptly came to a complete stop. An Infiniti G35 driver behind the fucktard locked his brakes and barely avoided a rear end collision.

the woman

Behind the Infiniti G35 was a hot brunette with glasses driving a Honda Accord. As documented previously, I dig the hot librarian look. After being stopped for a few seconds, a look of great anger passed across her face and she mashed her horn. I felt my heart leap. As her window was down, I decided to say something, but a dense fog had descended on my brain. The best I could come up with was nice anger, want to fuck - so I said nothing.

Because of the cocksucking Baptists, it is against the law to sell liquor, beer, and wine on Sundays in Georgia at grocery and package stores. Strangely, residents of the Peach State can order all the overpriced beers, wines, or cocktails they want at restaurants. Since I firmly believe in sticking it to Big Brother, we here at the Prizzo Skeezy will now be drinking every Sunday and writing about it. More specifically, I will be drinking sours. At their most basic, sours are a base liquor (e.g. whiskey), sugar (generally in the form of simple syrup), and citrus (usually lemon). The first sour I am reporting on smashes that simple template to pieces, but I had a hankering to use the Marie Brizard Peach Liqueur I scored at Tower* in Buckhead**

First up on our new Sunday Sours feature is the Delicious Sour. My father has a theory that advertisers play up the weaknesses of a product (e.g. handwriting recognition of the Apple Newton or reliability of Chrysler products) to trick suckers the public into purchasing them. So I was expecting the Delicious Sour to be anything but.

Unlike most sours, the Delicious Sour adds a generous slug of peach brandy to the base spirit, which is Applejack. The Delicious Sour starts with sharp notes of lime. Then the peach takes control and fades to apple, with some peach overtones remaining. This is a very pleasing drink, with the sweetness of peach brandy nicely balanced by the lime. I would not recommend substituting Calvados in place of the Applejack in this concoction, as the more mellow French eau-de-vie would be destroyed by the peach brandy and lime.

notes:

* While Green’s is my go to liquor store, they have been pissing me off recently. Their first offense is stocking crap beers like Duck Rabbit’s Ass or some such nonsense instead of devoting shelf space to quality brews like Hooker IPA. The second offense, and the one relevant to this post, is their current lack of Luxardo Maraschino Liqueur, which precipitated my trip to Tower.
** Buckhead is by far the most dangerous section of Atlanta. I live in the motherfuckin’ SWATS and when I venture to Buckhead, I roll with an Uzi toting homeboy riding shotgun and a couple of maleantes with AK-47s in the back seat. Even with that much firepower, I always feel lucky to make it out of Buckhead alive.

Looking for things to do with my shiny new bottle of apricot brandy, I came across the Pendennis. As a bonus, the Pendennis provides something to do with Peychaud Bitters besides make Sazeracs.

The cocktail is named after the Pendennis Club, which still exists today in Louisville, Kentucky. However, I have no idea if the Pendennis can still be ordered at the club.

The first impression from the Pendennis is tart lime. Next comes overtones of apricot from the brandy, which is balanced nicely by the Peychaud Bitters.

Like the Pegu, which showcases Angostura Bitters, the Pendennis provides a nice stage for Peychaud Bitters. Unlike the Pegu, the Pendennis is somewhat sweet.

The Pendennis is recommended. Try one today, if you have the means.