DISCUSSED: The Manischewitz Manhattan; the Rob Roy; Alvarado Street Glow Getter; Stem Off-Dry Cider
Manhattan is the logical signifier for a cocktail made with Manischewitz. The Lower East Side remains the mythic first home for American Jewry, the Upper West Side symbolizes its embourgeoisement, and the Upper East Side its near-passing. (One thinks of David Levinsky sad and alone in his hotel, ingratiated amongst German Jews but not the WASP elite.) Jewish businesses dot its landscape. I need not dwell — Manischewitz and Manhattan go together well.
The more I make this drink, the less comfortable I am using the name Manhattan. Let us begin with a premise: cocktails are a mix (a cocktail if you will) of ratios, ingredients, and technique. Some techniques are accessible to the layperson, some only to initiates. Fresh fruits and syrups are nearly always better, and the simpler the whiskey or gin cocktail, the more important the underlying booze. All who saw the student play, “Jelly Bean Boom” at Columbia University in 2005 know well the significance of ratios. You cannot just put 12 eggs in your cake, and just as the licorice jelly bean improves the package by means of counterpoint, so, too, is the cocktail ratio precise.
As a conservative Jew, I make a virtue of tradition even when my practice deviates. In the case of the Manhattan, I valorize the tradition of Bart Simpson established in S3:E4, “Bart the Murderer.” Though Bart’s recipe, like many others, proffers a choice of whiskeys, I have always believed that what makes Bart’s recipe “supoib” is that he uses rye (rye being emphasized in this screenshot by means of its syntactical placement). Besides, this is a New York drink and rye is by rights the whiskey of the Northeast. Rye is cryptic — more bitter, less approachable, spicier, and just dirtier than its Whiskey cousins.
If you ask a bartender whether a cocktail is sweet, they will tell you that it is balanced. The balance of a Manhattan is rye set against sweet vermouth — and I prefer Manhattan’s that incline towards the bitter. In Aruba I was once served a Manhattan in an oversized margarita glass filled with whole ice cubes. But it wasn’t sweet, and I think I enjoyed it more than most of what I drank that vacation. Anyway, it gnaws at me that a Manhattan made with Scotch is a Rob Roy, but there’s no special name for a Bourbon-based Manhattan.
My foray into Manischewitz cocktails (and eventually foray into this particular hair splitting) started when I realized that I had two half-consumed bottles of Manischewitz on the bar cart. (The Manischewitz I use, and the Manischewitz I refuse to?) This was too much. I sought out consumption guidance and found a Real Simple article on Manischewitz cocktails. I was immediately attracted to the Manischewitz Manhattan, which they proposed on the premise that Manischewitz and Vermouth have similar profiles:
2 oz Rye
1.5 oz Manischewitz
3 dashes of bitters
Cherry
Serve over ice
At the time, I was out of rye so I made it with Bourbon. I have no tasting notes, so I’ll say this…I liked it! The surprise of this recipe is that it’s really Manischewitz-forward. Bart Simpson made his Manhattan with a 3:1 ratio of whiskey to Vermouth. Most modern recipes call for 2:1. Here we have nearly equal amounts. And people prefer Vermouth to Manischewitz!
I’ve made this drink a few times now, with both rye and bourbon. It is a much better drink with bourbon. This is a drink designed to be sweet.
Last night eminent faculty joined me for drinks on the patio. Fall chill is setting in — impossible to believe since this weekend is going to bring intense heat and the prospect of new, windborne climate fires. But last night the temperature steadily dropped as the night wound. I used the Bulleit Bourbon 10 Year that I bought recently, mixed in the Manischewitz, added the bitters and cherry, stirred, and served them to my colleagues. Part of me wanted the scholars to rouse me from my folly. But everyone liked the drinks gentle fruitiness. It’s not a complex drink, and it’s not balanced, but your choice of booze matters, and you will find notes and complexity, sips filled with smoke or vanilla.
I only served one cocktail per person last night, after which we switched to a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon brought by a scholar of German and Hebrew literature. I don’t pretend to know anything about wine, so I’ll just say that it was a good follow-up to the Manischewitz. There are parallel flavors, but the Cab zigs and zags.
DRINK: “Manischewitz Manhattan”
DATE: 9.25.20
LOCATION: Patio
VERDICT: Whatever this drink is, it’s not a Manhattan. It’s the wrong ratio, and the wrong whiskey (I insist.) The farther you get from the flavor profile of a Manhattan, the better this drink gets. It deserves a name, and since I referenced David Levinsky earlier in the post, I might pick that. Or maybe Mike Gold, author of Jews without Money, since this is a drink for when you are staring down your failure to finish the Manischewitz. I haven’t tried it with Irish whiskey, but I supposed you could find the right one and call it a Lenny Abrahamson. More importantly, if you feel comfortable with some technique, you’re probably better off making the Sammy Davis Jr Sour, a Manischewitz play on the New York Sour invented by a former college friend. If all you have is a spoon, the Levinsky is right for you.
DRINK: The Rob Roy
DATE: 9.24.20
LOCATION: Dinner table
VERDICT: Incidentally, I made a Rob Roy while researching this post. I’m not a scotch drinker. There are only a finite number of things that a person can know, and I would rather know a lot about train types than scotch. Choo choo! My preference is to be dazzled by friends in the before times, to sit and watch them go back-and-forth with scotch sommeliers. But we had a few mini-bottles of The Macallan 12 pilfered from an airplane, which I decided to corrupt by mixing with vermouth. It was much smokier than a Manhattan, but — news at 11 — pretty good. (Did you remember that the Late Late Show with Craig Kilborn began with Bill Murray mixing Craig a Rob Roy? I did.) A Rob Roy is a waste of intentionally purchased fine scotch, but a great reuse of the bottle you happen to have, and a bulwark against going too far down a scotch rabbit hole.
DRINK: Alvarado Street Glow Getter
DATE: 9.21.20
LOCATION: On the sofa watching YouTube product reviews
VERDICT: A lot of tartness on the aftertaste, a hoppy sourness that starts at the back of the throat. It’s a decisively bitter beer upfront, with a medium body and good citrus vibes. I think that this is objectively a good beer, but not one that matches my tastes.
DRINK: Stem Off-Dry Cider
DATE: 9.23.2020
LOCATION: Near the magna-tiles
VERDICT: What was I just saying about only liking wine-y ciders? This tasted so much like apple juice, and yet I liked it a lot. There was yeasty goodness, yes, and nuance, but I think the main reason I liked it as intensely as I did is that it felt like cheating. Here I was getting to have a full can of apple drink while my son had to have water — and mine made everything more endearing! These are the small quarantine moments that I will cherish.
