New Orleans must be one of the most paradoxical cities on Planet Earth. Breathtaking for its beauty and filth, its charm rivaled only by its stench. I suspect New Orleans is today as it has always been - a paradise of excess in every direction; home to opulence and debauchery, titans, shiftless layabouts, and everything in between. Perhaps this fate is inevitable for any city built upon a major trade port and New Orleans is one of the oldest trade ports in United States. The great Charles Kuralt hosted
CBS News Sunday Morning, a show my mother, and I in turn, faithfully watched throughout my childhood. In retirement, Mr. Kuralt penned several books, one of which,
Charles Kuralt's America, contained twelve chapters, each chronicling an entire month spent in a specific city. The first chapter, January, details the month he spent in New Orleans and captures the most memorable quote I've come across regarding this magnificent city:
Unless you're broke or sick or blue-nosed, I don't see how you could have anything but a good time in New Orleans. "Unique" is a word that cannot be qualified. It does not mean rare or uncommon; it means alone in the universe. By the standards of grammar and by the grace of God, New Orleans is the unique American place.
The Crescent City holds a very special place in my life - spellbound by its music and its food as a child, little could I have guessed that years later as an adult, within hours of arriving on my very first visit, that the city's inexplicable and ever-present magic would introduce me to the single-most important person in my life. Twenty-three years later, I can assure you it was love at first sight, on both counts. Looking back at that impossible collision of fate, I chuckle and think to myself
of course it was in New Orleans, could it be any other way?
Upon arriving in the city for the first time, one quickly gets the sense that everything in New Orleans has a story attached to it, oftentimes multiple conflicting stories. Case in point - the Sazerac cocktail. Considered by some to be the earliest known American cocktail, its origins date back to the mid-1800s, yet its precise history remains murky with many disputed twists and turns. Here's a nickel tour's worth of how the Sazerac came to be as I understand it.
Step One - A Creole injection into New Orleans. The successful Haitian Slave Revolt between 1791 and 1804 caused tens of thousands of French colonists to flee Haiti for New Orleans which in turn formed the basis of the Creole culture of New Orleans. Somewhere in the early 1800s, a very young Antoine Amédée Peychaud fled Haiti for New Orleans and would eventually open an apothecary shop in which he sold numerous medicinal elixirs.
Step Two - A French spirit injection into New Orleans. In the mid-1800s, a spirits importer and owner of the Merchants Exchange Coffee House named Sewell T. Taylor began to import a brand of cognac named
Sazerac-de-Forge et Fils.
Step Three - Worlds collide. Around the same mid-1800s time frame, Mr. Taylor began to mix a concoction of his cognac, absinthe, bitters (some claim from Antoine Peychaud's apothecary), and sugar. Choosing to focus on his spirits import business, Mr. Taylor handed over operations of the Merchants Exchange Coffee House to Aaron Bird who subsequently changed the name to Sazerac Coffee House to honor the unique cognac cocktail served within its doors.
Step Four - Disaster! In the late-1800s the phylloxera plague decimated the vineyards of France destroying France's wine industry and in turn France's cognac industry. Back in New Orleans, with cognac imports drying up, the folks at the Sazerac Coffee House, now being operated by a Thomas H. Handy, had to find an alternative and fatefully chose to substitute rye whiskey in place of cognac.
Step Five - Another deviation. In 1912, absinthe was banned in the United States due to its reputation for being far more destructive to society than other distilled spirits. New Orleans being New Orleans was unfazed and began to produce its own absinthe alternative, the anise-flavored Herbsaint.
Step Six - Immortalized. In 1949, the Roosevelt Hotel opened the Sazerac Bar. Fittingly, the Roosevelt Hotel stands three blocks up Canal Street from where both the Sazerac Coffee House and Peychaud's Apothecary once stood on Royal Street. Today, just as the Carousel Bar is a must-visit for Vieux Carré fans, the Sazerac Bar is a must-visit for Sazerac fans. Being located in a giant hotel combined with a famous name and a storied history usually results in large crowds, but every visit I have made to the bar has yielded well-made and thoroughly enjoyable Sazeracs. Yes the bartenders are busy, but they do consistently churn out delicious libations.
Thirsty yet? Happily the drink is easy enough to make at home and hey, it's Carnival Season, so what better excuse to mix away.
The Sazerac
Ingredients
- 1/2 teaspoon absinthe or Herbsaint (absinthe containing less than 10ppm of thujone - wormwood - was deemed legal in the United States in 2007, as such, absinthe availability has steadily increased)
- 1 teaspoon of simple syrup
- 5 dashes Peychaud's bitters
- 1 or 2 dashes, a scant drop, of Angostura bitters (ferociously controversial and totally optional; I personally feel Angostura augments the flavors quite nicely, but traditionalists leave it out)
- 2 ounces rye whiskey (there is a Sazerac Rye from Buffalo Trace which can be hard to find, no worries, there are plenty of awesome alternatives: Heaven Hill's Rittenhouse Bottled in Bond or Pikesville, Jim Beam's Knob Creek Rye, Wild Turkey's 101 Rye or Russell's Reserve Rye just to name a few. We are looking for a punchy rye, 45% ABV or higher)
- Strip of lemon peel, skin only, no pith welcome to this party
Composition
Pour the absinthe into the glass you plan to enjoy your Sazerac from. Tilt and twirl the glass around, working to coat the entire inside with absinthe, from base to lip. Once satisfied, pour any remaining absinthe out, we only want to leave behind the absinthe that clings to the inside of the glass, no pooling allowed.
In a mixing vessel or cocktail shaker, add the rye, simple syrup, and bitters. Stir well and taste. Here is where you will need to adjust the drink to your preference. We are looking for a strong, spirit-driven taste here, more spirit than sweet. Also, we are looking for a strong but not dominant presence by the bitters. Adjust to your preferences.
Once satisfied, add a good handful of ice to the concoction and stir well for 20 or so seconds to get a nice chill and some dilution. Please, oh please, do not plop the top of the cocktail shaker on and shake, the Sazerac is many things, but frothy ain't one of them.
Strain the chilled cocktail into your absinthe-prepped glass, and give your lemon peel a nice twist directly over the center of the glass releasing those delicious lemon oils onto the surface of the cocktail. The final flourish is to swipe the lip of the glass with the lemon peel. At this point some say toss the peel into the trash, others say toss the peel into the glass with the hooch, dealer's choice.
One footnote, as we learned, the original Sazerac was made with cognac and only switched to rye whiskey when France's wine industry was devastated in the late 1800s. Happily, France's wine industry rebounded (thanks to American vine rootstock, but that's a story for another time) and cognac is readily available. It is amazing how different a Sazerac is when made with cognac, a totally different beast and well worth experimenting with. Personally, I like the rye version a whisker more because it is less sweet, but if life is good with one Sazerac, then surely it must be twice as good when you have two to taste side-by-side.
Laissez les bon temps rouler, Happy Mardi Gras everyone!
