It all depends on whether you can make a nice cocktail or not. Obviously, a nasty cocktail is about as welcome as Live And Let Die being sung to you by the Tweenies. Cooking is sometimes referred to in the same breath as alchemy, and rightfully so. More deserved of this simile, however, is ... Read review
Advantages: You make drink. Drink drink. Drink get you drunk. Disadvantages: A little style over content.
It all depends on whether you can make a nice cocktail or not. Obviously, a nasty cocktail is about as welcome as Live And Let Die being sung to you by the Tweenies. Cooking is sometimes referred to in the same breath as alchemy, and rightfully so. More deserved of this simile, however, is the cocktail. The right blend of spirits (and sometimes mixers) can be as satisfying as a well cooked steak, or a rich fruit cake. Plus you get larruped. Sold! ...my estimation) is to cocktails what Jamie Oliver is to grub, only a tad more exclusive, sweetie. He hangs out at the Met bar, having worked there for a great deal of time, and owns his own exclusive “star bar”, Woodys, where all the best liggers (and Donna Air) go to corrupt their livers until they chunder. What a charming evening out! Anyhoo, you’re in safe hands here, Reed having won a Bartender Of The Year contest (once), and ... more
It all depends on whether you can make a nice cocktail or not. Obviously, a nasty cocktail is about as welcome as Live And Let Die being sung to you by the Tweenies. Cooking is sometimes referred to in the same breath as alchemy, and rightfully so. More deserved of this simile, however, is the cocktail. The right blend of spirits (and sometimes mixers) can be as satisfying as a well cooked steak, or a rich fruit cake. Plus you get larruped. Sold!
Ben Reed (an almost perfect name in my estimation) is to cocktails what Jamie Oliver is to grub, only a tad more exclusive, sweetie. He hangs out at the Met bar, having worked there for a great deal of time, and owns his own exclusive “star bar”, Woodys, where all the best liggers (and Donna Air) go to corrupt their livers until they chunder. What a charming evening out! Anyhoo, you’re in safe hands here, Reed having won a Bartender Of The Year contest (once), and writing for the Times every Saturday. Oh, and he had a TV series on BBC Choice – Shaker Maker – in which he travelled the country in his posh car, making posh cocktails for posh people (and Donna Air) from whatever they had in their liquor cabinet. Ms Air’s was oddly empty…
At fifteen of your Queen’s money, this doesn’t seem much like value for money at a glance. At 128 pages, it seems a little light, but still, never judge a book by its cover (several ciaoers groan at crap pun). This is surprisingly handy for the page to cost ratio (about 11p per page, fact fans!), with loadsa cocktail recipes, and more besides… let me tell you about it!
One of the first things that struck me about this tome is the stunning photography. Cocktails have had a pretty bad run over the years, with most photos making them seem overly cheesy. Eww… cheesy cocktail… Anyway, there are no fruit-laden stein glasses here, and a gratifying lack of maraschino cherries. Kudos due to the photographer William Lingwood (apparently one of the most well known in Britain for food snaps). The drinks ***CLICHÉ ALERT*** leap off the page and make you want to neck them rather than stare longingly at the pictures. I’ve never seen booze get this much respect in photos, though this will probably seem as old hat in ten years as the old cocktail books I collect. Still, if the reason for the price is these beautiful images, then it’s definitely worth it.
GET TO THE BOOZE! No, not yet. First, Mr Reed kindly introduces us to the basic for a good home bar, and gives us a brief account of the history of cocktails. He keeps it mercifully brief, but as such skips past an interesting piece of trivia. Are you drinking a cup of coffee whilst reading this? It’s a cocktail. The earliest use of the word refers to anything involving water and a flavour as a cocktail (the meaning of which is simply “mixed drink”). Orange squash? Cocktail. Just not quite as much fun…
BOOZE! NOW! Okay, here it is. Jeez, grow some patience… The rest of the book is split into categories by alcohol type. This is very handy for the home mixologist, who may only have some cheap vodka left, and is wondering how to make it taste good. The main spirits are: Vodka, Gin, Whisky, Rum. These, as any cockail maker knows, are the most popular bases for cocktails. Beyond this are Cachaça (a Brazilian spirit), Brandy, aperitifs and liqueurs, Tequila, Champagne, Non-alcoholic cocktails (boo! hiss!) and Hangover Cures. Plenty to be going on with, I’m sure you’ll agree. The book carries 97 recipes (a clever link to Reed’s winning year at the Barman of the Year contest? Maybe…), which isn’t that many on reflection. Still, this is one of those books they sell in Habitat and places of similar ilk, so I can understand this is a “lifestyle” book as well as being functional. At least it isn’t as loathsome as “Happy Days With The Naked Chef”, which features more pictures of Jamie Oliver than his family album, I shouldn’t wonder. From the look of his dad’s garden they had to burn the photos to keep warm. Off on a tangent? You betcha! Come on Ben, reel yourself back in.
The quality of the recipes (and the unusualness) is the key selling point in my book (groan). Some weird and wonderful liquor comes out of the cabinet (more groans), including the mind-f**king absinthe and the never-heard-of-it Strega. Sure, you may feel cheated by the fact that there’s a glut of martini recipes in here, but it’s the serious cocktail drinker’s poison of choice, y’know? Some here are more palatable than others (I road tested quite a few. Hic!), especially the sake martini. Good with sushi, it says here. It says right. There’s something for every kind of drinker (even those unable to booze are catered for, admirably), and even the foul Prairie Oyster (as championed by Nigella Lawson) rears its foul head.
The style of writing is very “hip”, sometimes to annoyance level 3.89 on the meter (it goes up to 10, so not too bad). It’s good to have someone write passionately about a subject, though, with a lot of old cocktails books being quite distant and factual. Reed throws in anecdotes of his own, and a liberal dose of exclamation points so he seems cool! Honestly!! The very idea!!! There’s even suggestions for alterative in some recipes, most bizarrely of all in the absinthe one, where he suggest a mix of ingredients that may well deliver the same flavour. Which leads me nicely to my next point!!!!!
If you are a cocktail aficionado, you may well be surprised by some facts and ingredients. Cocktails are a precise art, it’s true, but barmen & women vary greatly in their preference – there’s no right or wrong way to make a martini (some may strongly disagree – screw ‘em), but the stories behind some drinks are dodgier than a furry piece of chicken. The Harvey Wallbanger, f’instance, was supposedly invented by accident after a Californian surfer wanted an extra kick to his vodka and orange after catching a big wave or something. Anyhoo, he scanned the bar for another kind of booze, before deciding on the Galliano. He enjoyed it so much, that Harvey (for that was supposedly his name) necked a load, and staggered out of the bar, crashing into the walls as he went. Do you see? True or not, it’s a good story to tell the punters as they wait for you to try and catch the shaker on the back of your hand for the 125th time.
In fact, the only thing I would have liked to see is just that – some tips on how to be flashy with the equipment (oo-er). Still, we don’t want people breaking glasses left right and centre after an attempt at chucking the glass in the air and catching it behind their backs, now do we? This is a well-produced book, very swish, very “2000”, and a great gift for someone who loves booze but is as sophisticated as a camel in a dinner jacket when it comes to the hard stuff.
