Thanks to ZBS for reminding me of the Correspondence, with all its bookish charms. For elaboration, we now turn to Fort Defiance’s St. John Frizell, the creator of the cocktail in question:
Somehow, whiskey seemed an obvious choice for base spirit, and the whiskey would be rye. I can’t elaborate on how I made this decision; it was just always apparent to me and remains so today. “Correspondences” is not a simple, neat book; it’s a chaotic, gregarious, jumbly work-in-progress; therefore the drink would not be a clean, elegant drink served up like a Martini, it would be on the rocks. O.K., I thought, now we’re getting somewhere. Something not too strong or too serious or aggressive—something you could pick up and put down and come back to later, and be surprised by again. Something punchy, spicy, fun but a little dark. Something you could drink in the nineteen-seventies, in a Tudorbethan hotel bar in a strange city, recommended to you by the old couple who are talking about retirement and if they should get that motor home; something you drink while you flirt with the bartender, fingering the postcards in your jacket pocket; something that inspires reminiscence. I started playing around. What came out was kind of a Manhattan punch or a dolled-up whiskey sour; I call it a “wintry Pimm’s Cup” on the menu. The ingredients are commonly available, except maybe the grenadine, which I make myself, and which is a pomegranate syrup spiced with star anise, cinnamon, clove, and allspice, but it’s a minor player in the whole. Here’s the recipe:
1 1/2 oz. rye whiskey
3/4 oz. sweet vermouth
3/4 oz. lemon juice
1/2 oz. homemade grenadine
Dash of Angostura bitters
Shake ingredients over ice; pour into a highball glass over ice. Top with soda. Garnish with an orange slice, and a maraschino cherry if that suits you.
My Friday night just got a little more jumbly.
















