The notion of single-serving micro-infusions is pleasing, though the requisite hour’s wait makes the Sunset Gun no spur-of-the-moment tipple. Its name implies a certain ritualized consumption, wherein the daily infusing of a few drams of whiskey coincides with changing from tennis whites to dinner dress … the sort of comfortably civilized prelude to evening that Noël Coward and Graham Payn might have indulged in on the terrace of Firefly, gazing down at Blue Harbor as the sun sank below the horizon.
I came upon this one in H. Paul Jeffers’ 1997 High Spirits. He doesn’t lay claim to its origination, but a cursory leafing through the bookshelf finds no precedent. Google Book Search identifies a single subsequent appearance in the unfortunately-named Complete Idiot’s Guide to Mixing Drinks, however, and it’s quite similar to the CocktailDB’s Duppy Cocktail, in which the cloves are merely a garnish.
2 oz. whiskey
1/2 oz. curaçao
2 dashes Regans’ Orange Bitters #6
Steep cloves in the whiskey for 1 hour and remove. Stir whiskey and curaçao with cracked ice and strain. Return cloves to glass and top with bitters.
Jeffers is agnostic regarding the whiskey to employ — it needn’t even be whiskey with an “e” as far as he’s concerned, calling for “blended, rye or bourbon.” I’ve tried it with rye, but find this to be one of those drinks that does very well with Scotch. The blended whisky of choice chez Slakethirst is Teacher’s, which contributes lush, smoky notes to our Sunset Guns. Should foresight fail and sunset’s advent find you with uninfused whiskey, a dash of Fee’s Aromatic Bitters might serve in lieu of the hour-long marination of cloves, though not nearly as subtly, and at the cost of introducing extra bittering agents.
1 very healthy slug rye
1 careless splash creme de cassis
3 liberal dashes Regans’ Orange Bitters
Or something like that. When you stagger home at 2am, after another 16-hour day at the code mine, getting-on towards the end of a 92-hour week, it’s conceivable that anything tastes good. This just did.
I should determine if such a thing has a name already, but I’m about to face-plant. If it doesn’t, I dub it (the eventually-to-be-refined version) the Release Candidate, in honor of the labyrinthian nightmare of XML and actionscript that’s being shipped — hell, high-water, or heart attacks notwithstanding — tomorrow night. Oh. Make that tonight. Shite. Goodnight.
3 oz. Teacher’s blended Scotch whisky
1/2 oz. sweet vermouth
1/2 oz. dry vermouth
4 dashes Fee’s orange bitters
Ice well, stirring, swirling, or otherwise gently chilling, and strain. A maraschino cherry is the traditional garnish.
The Rob Roy is a fine cocktail that almost any liquor cabinet should be able to produce: it asks for little in the way of the exotic and doesn’t even require fresh fruit! I judge it to be mild, smooth and delicious… a pale, aromatic, eminently quaffable concoction. I made a few this evening after noting that Looka!‘s cocktail of the day today was the Perfect Manhattan, which seemed a good idea. Forgetting that I have a bottle of bourbon, I reached for the scotch instead, the substitution of which yields a Rob Roy. Quite a happy accident.
Use a large Mixing glass with Lump Ice.
1 jigger of Burnette’s Old Tom Gin.
1 pony of Orange Juice.
1 Dash of Orange Bitters.
Shake; strain into Cocktail glass and serve.
(For a Party of 6—Use a small punch bowl)
1 quart of Sparkling Moselle.
1 jigger Cusenier Grenadine.
1 jigger Maraschino.
1 jigger Sir Robert Burnette’s Old Tom Gin.
1 jigger Lemon Juice.
1 jigger Orange Bitters.
1 jigger Angostura Bitters.
4 Oranges, sliced.
2 Lemons, sliced.
1 ripe Pineapple, sliced and quartered.
4 tablespoonfuls Sugar.
1 bottle Apollinaris Water.
Place large square of Ice in bowl; dress with the Fruits and serve Julep in fancy Stem glass.