Cocktail hour: O

Well, uproar here at JMP Towers with the news just in that Hermann, Hans' Bavarian cousin, may be coming to stay. Hermann, Hans reports, is short and plump and 'wholly without style'; his branch of the family fears that Hans has 'come off the rails', and this potential visit is likely to be something off a checking-up exercise on Hans' lifestyle. An exercise that Hans is likely to fail, I fear. He is going to take some emergency measures next week, including changing his subscriptions to You And Your Facecream and heat, to The Economist and Classic Car Monthly; whether this will be enough to convince onlookers that he is firmly onrail remains to be seen.  

Moreover, after picking up a cough after a particularly late night earlier this week, Hans has convinced himself that he has come down with swine fever, and has taken to spending the day on the sofa wearing his smoking cap and monogrammed dressing gown, moaning theatrically. Not all that different from his normal behaviour, but trying none the less.

In an effort to start thinking like someone who is very much onrail, Hans has chosen a classic, understated, masculine cocktail this week, as we hit O in his A to Z cocktail challenge: the Old Fashioned. Recipes vary, but Hans' is as follows: place a sugar cube and enough water just to dissolve it in a glass. Add a splash of Angostura bitters, and mix, so the sugar is dissolved. Add two measures of bourbon, and two or three ice cubes. Garnish with a twist of lemon peel.

This is one of my favourite cocktails, and like the Rusty Nail, great if you have a cold. 

And as you leave us Hans is off the sofa and back to his room to replace the H from Steps and Westlife posters on his walls with Constable prints. The place won't look the same.

PS Talking of swine fever, it keeps leading the BBC news with hushed talk of a 'global pandemic', but it can't be of much interest to the world at large if Google is to be believed: 'swine fever symptoms in humans' only brings up a measly 70,800 hits, compared to eg over 8,000,000 for 'Westlife'.

Cocktail hour: N

- A genuine Hayter Spirit 41. Oh yes. A man's mower. Woof.

I discovered this weekend that you realise that you're a grown up not when you first drive a car, or go to bed with a beautiful woman. No, it's when you own your first, gorgeous petrol driven lawn mower - having put away electric lawn mowers along with other childish things - and, for the first time, you survey your garden, take a deep breath, pull that cord thing...and see and hear it roar into life. It's that starting an engine by pulling on a cord that does it, for some reason, I think. The safety aspects of it all are rather worrying - am I really going to be storing petrol in my little shed? It seems I am, with the prospect of a sitcom-style shed explosion never far away - but then I'm someone who happily mowed right through the electrical cable of his old mower, so que sera, sera.

Hans thinks my new lawn mower fetish is too contemptibly suburban for words (though first he misunderstood, and recommended an interesting club in the Kings Cross area) and has specified a suitably urban and sophisticated cocktail this week, the New Yorker. It's deliciously simple: a measure of bourbon and of grenadine into a cold cocktail glass containing a cube or two of ice; a squeeze of lime, and then add the lime wedge. Et voila. Before you know it, Samantha Jones is eyeing you up across your lounge. But don't let that put you off.

Now, back to that instruction booklet for my Hayter Spirit 41, while Hans browses once more through the extras on the DVD of the Sex And The City movie...

Cocktail hour

Hans, JMP's resident mixologist, has been gripped by Smeargate like all of us, and particularly by the weird dynamic of the would-be-foppish Dolly, and the unambiguously thuggish McBride. As such, when thinking about the cocktail to cover M in his famous cocktail A to Z Challenge earlier today while listening to the morning service on Radio 4 Longwave, he whimsically offered, from his cane bathchair in the conservatory, the 'McBride', comprising one measure of bile and one of testosterone. It is in a similar mood that he tells me now that the week's cocktail is the genuine Mother-in-law, which is stout and bitter*. Geddit? Pouring half a pint of each into a pint glass is the only preparation required, though some say pork scratchings as an accompaniment are absolutely essential. The Coronation Street theme music playing in the background also helps. Hans assures me that non-beer-based cocktails will return next week.

*Both my lawyers and my conscience require me to add that my m-i-l is neither. Hans doesn't have a m-i-l; he is 'not the marrying sort'.

Cocktail hour

Blimey, what a busy and tiring few days. Your humble blogger is exhausted, as is JMP's resident mixologist, Hans. Still, at least Margot and Barbara seem finally to be on top of their catflap usage, which will be a relief for the blogosphere.

We have reached L in Hans' A to Z challenge, and with a weary wave of the hand from the chaise longue he instructs me that this week's cocktail is lager. Open a cold can of lager, such as Stella Artois or Kronenburg 1664, and pour it into a glass. Sip, nursing your lingering hangover, watching slack-jawed an episode of, say, Hetty Wainthrop Investigates. 

For those who complain lager isn't a cocktail, you can stick a cherry in it. (In the lager, that is. I wasn't being vulgarly rude.) 

Let's hope normal service is resumed next week. I'm sure it will be.

Cocktail hour: Onangate edition

Hans has been most entertained by 'Onangate' (see below). Looking at the picture of Mr Smith (or 'Richard Timney' as he calls himself) above - for the benefit of our American readers, he's the one on the left - Hans has convinced himself that 'Dickie', with that sensitive little greying goatee, may well be a friend of Dorothy, and has taken to declaiming that 'he always knew' that 'there was a whiff of lavender' about the marriage. He has suggested a couple of possible titles for the videos at the centre of Onangate, none of which is suitable for repetition in a family blog such as this, though let's just say that we never got up to that kind of thing in the army when I was in the CCF at school.  

This is by way of explanation for the fact that Hans would like to dedicate this CH to Richard T. He's gone very simple, with the classic Kir Royale: a measure of kir (creme de cassis) topped up with champagne.  It's clear that while Jackboot Jacqui's away, the boy will play, so let us leave Hans clinking a virtual glass of Kir Royale with Dickie 'good with colours' Timney.

Cocktail hour

We've reached J in Hans' A to Z cocktail challenge: getting near to halfway through. Hans is having one of his sulks, actually, at the moment, after we missed last weekend's CH. Plus the atmosphere in JMP Towers is more than a little fractious, Barbara The Cat having responded badly to the introduction of The Cat Flap over the weeekend, and now hissing evilly at her sister Margot whenever the two of them cross in the hall, whereas until today they'd kiss and curl up together. Not-at-all obsessive research on internet cat forums - oh yes, they do exist - suggests this is far from a rare phenomenon. 'A vet' comments on one 'Don't try to understand cats. They are very, very, very strange creatures.' Wise words, and a reason why they are so much more interesting and rewarding than dogs, but that's a whole other post. 

Difficult times, then, so in an attempt to lighten the mood, I've persuaded Hans to choose the Jelly Baby for this week's cocktail. Now, there are many cocktails that claim to mimic the particular taste of Jelly Baby, but Hans can report, after several hours with his focus group behind the bikesheds of the local boys grammar, that the best is as follows:

Take 

One measure Archers (peach schnapps) 
One measure Malibu
One measure Smirnoff red vodka
One measure Blue Curaco (come on, you've got some at the back of that cupboard in the kitchen)  
2 little bottles pineapple juice
Lemonade to taste 
and
Beaucoup de ice

Slosh together. Stir. Drink in the spring sunshine. It does taste like jelly babies. And gets you as pissed as a sixth form disco.

PS Hans adds - aren't we all just loving the Matt Crawford fraud arrest plot on the Archers?

Cocktail hour

Hans, JMP's resident mixologist, has for once had a quiet weekend, spending it glued to a box set of The Jewel In The Crown, and making liberal use of the freeze-frame facility during Charles Dance's scenes. He s now entertaining fantasies of becoming a missionary in the subcontinent, despite leaving his family's Catholicism behind a long time ago (except during his unforgettable Like A Virgin phase); he claims with a twinkle that a change of career would be good, as it's 'always good to try a new position'. He's convinced it would be like an extended holiday in Goa, but with fabulously camp outfits to wear to work.

So it is perhaps inevitable that his cocktail of choice this week, as we reach I in his great A to Z Challenge is the Indian Summer. The IS is a cocktail that demands the use of a cocktail shaker, which adds a certain element of drama to its preparation that appeals hugely to Hans. Put 1 measure of vodka, one of kahlua, and two of pineapple juice into the shaker, with some ice. Shake in the traditional manner, and strain it into a tumbler. A perfect accompaniment to Peggy Ashcroft, Art Malik, and of course Mr Dance.

Cocktail hour

Well, Hans is excited that we have reached H in his A to Z cocktail challenge, as he has known from the start what cocktail he would choose - the Harvey Wallbanger, after a particularly lively and kindly-remembered gentleman acquaintance of his by the name of Harvey, who apparently loved the outdoors life. In Soho.  

Pour one part vodka to four parts orange juice onto ice. Then carefully add one part Galliano, an Italian herbal liqueur. The Galliano will sit on top of the orange juice and vodka. Sip and enjoy, while wondering what you're going to do with the rest of that bottle of Galliano.

The HW was invented in 1952 by Duke Antone, a three times world champion mixologist and a personal hero of Hans' (a black and white photo of Duke is on Hans' bedroom wall, next to the Westlife poster). Legend has it that Signor Antone also invented the Rusty Nail (drambuie and whiskey), a particular favourite of mine, and a quite magnificent cold cure. What a guy.

Cocktail hour

Simplicity is the name of the cocktail game at the moment, according to Hans, JMP's resident mixologist. It's easy to try too hard, he says, and now, in these difficult times, is the time to get the simple things right. He has had a whimsical look in his eye since he finally made it back from his sojourn in Norfolk on Wednesday; it's all embracing the natural world, googling 'smocks', and listening to the Archers at the moment. (He's especially worried, as we all are, about the fate of Tom Archer's bangers.) All well and good, but the best cocktails get to be made in London, Paris and New York rather than Swaffham, so I hope he reverts to type soon.

Anyway, back to simplicity, and as we are at G in Hans' A to Z cocktail challenge, this cocktail hour is, after the vulgar flummery of the Face Ache last week, all about the perfect gin and tonic. Here are Hans' tips:

1. The drink should be very cold; but undiluted, so far as possible, by ice water. The answer is to chill the glass in the freezer beforehand, and to use lots of ice. (Pubs invariably get this wrong, and serve a G&T either tepid, or diluted.) 

2. A double measure of gin should be used. More than that, and it's too strong, but less and the gin is fighting the tonic, and - I quote Hans - 'isn't given enough space to breathe'. Quite.

3. Which gin? A matter of personal taste, of course, but never trust someone who proudly claims to prefer Gordons over the better, more expensive brands. Use Bombay Sapphire (the gin of choice in JMP Towers), Tanqueray or Plymouth, and you won't go far wrong.

4. Which tonic? Schweppes. In individual small (glass for aesthetics) bottles, so it can't go flat.

5. Lemon or lime? Hans advises that lemon complements the botanicals in the gin much more subtly than the rather heavy handed lime. He also says - and in this he is surely right - that it is mere pretension and vulgarity to wipe the lemon (or lime) around the rim of the glass. A slice or two of lemon in the drink is all that's needed. Hans puts two slices in the bottom of the glass, on the ice, before adding the gin and tonic.

Cheers!

Cocktail hour

And the news of the hour is that Margot and Barbara, the JMP kittens, have now been microchipped. Quite why a blogger who has signed up to the No2ID campaign allowed such an insidious invasion of privacy to be visited upon his furry friends on Saturday morning by Auntie Martha of the animal shelter that M & B used to call home is, now I think about it, something of a mystery. Does the increased likelihood of their getting home safely if they go walkabout make up for the thin end of the feline surveillance state wedge the chips represent? Deep waters indeed; too deep for this blog in cocktail hour.  

Speaking of which, and of getting home safely, Hans still hasn't returned from his Friday night, and his been reduced to faxing in (as he says, "how retro!!") his cocktail from "somewhere in Norfolk?!"; quite an achievement since his destination on Friday was a dingy bar in Walthamstow. He seems to be enjoying the rural life with his new friends, and I will spare you his cheery faxed bawdiness about "pheasant plucker sons", instead simply passing on his choice for the letter F in his A to Z cocktail challenge - the Face Ache, which he tells me is a favourite in the loucher pubs of Kings Lynn.

Place a measure each of creme de menthe, avocaat and vodka in a cocktail shaker, together with some crushed ice. Shake, pour out and add lemonade to taste. It sounds dreadful; but it really is quite drinkable. Honestly. Though not one for Soho House, perhaps.

Cocktail hour

Hans (JMP's resident mixologist, for newcomers) has been glued to his adored Daily Mail's free 'Cranford' DVD's, and it has only been with difficulty that it has been possible to persuade him to turn his attention to his blogging duties, and the continuation of his terrific A to Z cocktail challenge. Miss Mattie...the wonderful Imelda Staunton...and my dear, the outfits! He's been sitting a foot away from the television, sucking what he assures me is his thumb, enthralled by the mid 19th century period drama unfolding before him, and insisting on speaking only in 'Cranford dialogue'. For example, he tells me that last night 'he formed an attachment to' and 'walked out with' a bricklayer from Peckham. In the dungeon of a club in Shoreditch. For about two hours.

Anyway, after telling me that he recognised that 'my countenance was troubled' (I'd just told him to pull his finger out and give me the frickin' details of today's cocktail) Hans has shared the secret of a cocktail named, he says, after his 'beloved alma mater' (nonsense obviously, as far as I've been able to tell Hans spent most of his teenage years in a reform school in one of the loucher parts of Switzerland) - the Eton Highball Soda. Also known as the What Are We Going To Do With This Cherry Brandy That's Been Hanging Around For Ages, Oh God You Need Soda Water. Mix a measure each of gin and c.b. with two teaspoons of lemon juice and of sugar syrup. (If you don't have sugar syrup to hand, substitute two teaspoons of granulated sugar.) Shake, strain, and pour into a glass with plenty of ice. Top with the soda, and enjoy the unusual taste. First half pint's the worst, as my father would say.

Cocktail hour

My word, we're already on to D in Hans' A to Z cocktail adventure. And, spurning the undoubted but overfamiliar attractions of the daiquiri, Hans has chosen instead the Dark'n' Stormy, which just happens also to be the name of one of the louche nighttime establishments he frequents. According to Hans - who to be fair, is an expert on naval officers' clubs of the world - the D'n'S was invented more than 100 years ago when members of Bermuda’s Royal Naval Officer’s Club added a splash of the local rum to their spicy homemade ginger beer. They described its ominous hue, so the story goes, as “the colour of a cloud only a fool or dead man would sail under.”

Anyway. Add two measures of rum - Goslings is traditional - to a tall glass with plenty of ice in it. Add ginger beer to taste, and some slices of lime, with a little extra fresh lime juice if you're the type of person who relies on his Sunday cocktail to provide part of his Five A Day pieces of fruit and veg. Stir, and then I suggest gulping rather than sipping; for this is a drink for when you need refreshment. Like Hans after he's been dancing on the bar at the Dark'n'Stormy in Vauxhall.

Cocktail hour

It's early Sunday evening, so it's cocktail hour. A cocktail on a Sunday, incidentally, is an absolutely essential counter to the sickly temptations of puritanism and abstinence on the night before the school week starts. No, turn your back on the Antiques Roadshow, and say hello to the cocktail cabinet.

Now, you'll remember that we're on to C in Hans' A to Z cocktail challenge, after embracing the Bellini last week. Hans tells me that in the course of "tracking down an old friend" on the internet he came across a cocktail called a "Crusty Arnold" - a frankly unlikely sounding combination of dry vermouth, bacardi, grenadine and white wine. But, as he says sniffily, that's just a little too vulgar for JMP, and in these credit crunch times we're going to stick with the classic and simple Cointreau Caipirinha, which only requires Cointreau, four or five ice cubes, and a lime.

Crush the ice (easiest if the ice is in a plastic bag, then you can bash it with the handle of a big knife if you have nothing else to hand) and empty into a tumbler. Chop the lime into a half and two quarters. Squeeze the half over the ice, then discard it, and add the quarters to the ice. Pour over the Cointreau. Then sit back, and enjoy the contrast of the sweetness of the Cointreau against the tartness of the lime. Hans says that very contrast reminds him of one or two of his old flames. Crusty Arnold, anyone?

Cocktail hour

Hans is starting to get a bit nervous about the A to Z challenge he's set himself, particularly as regards the tail-end of the alphabet with its all difficult, high-scoring-at-Scrabble letters. But we're still near the start of his quest, and his spirits remain high.

We're on B this week, and with a nod to Hans' favourite city, Venice ("the queen of the Adriatic!" he trills) he presents the wonderfully refreshing Bellini - white peach juice and Prosecco. 

The Bellini is associated with Harry's Bar in Venice, where it was said to be invented by the bar's founder, Giuseppe Cipriani. It's still there, but it's now frankly a soulless and dispiriting joint, where you drink your Bellini at about 35 euros a go (for when you're there it seems perverse and silly to drink anything else, despite the price) surrounded by self-conscious tourists all doing the same, flicking through their Lonely Planets. 

Better to make it at home, with the best peach juice you can find, and dream of Venice as it should be.

Cocktail hour: Hans' A to Z challenge

The first cocktail hour of 2009 is an auspicious moment, and Hans, now recovered from his New Year exertions, has come up with a wizard wheeze: a cocktail for each letter of the alphabet. 

We start, naturally, with the ascetic Apple Martini, a cool cocktail perfect for sophisticated, frosty early January evenings. The White Witch in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe would drink these, conjuring them up from the snow. 

Ingredients:

1 measure vodka
1 measure apple Schnapps
Splash of Dry Vermouth
And, of course, garnish with a slice of apple

Shake the ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice. Strain into a chilled glass and garnish with an apple slice. Raise your glass, toast the New Year, and sip sip sip.

Christmas cocktail

Hans still hasn't returned from last night's clubbing - in a brief muttered phone message, with Erasure playing loudly in the background, he has told us that he is 'a bit tied up' somewhere in Vauxhall - and so cocktail hour is left with me. Don't worry, it's not going to be some ghastly concoction involving cranberries (what's so festive about bloody cranberry juice? Keep it for when you have that thing that makes you pee a lot, that's what I say. And cranberries should not be allowed anywhere near cheese. Marks & Spencer, take note).

Anyway...it's the morning of Christmas Day. From down the stairs, you hear the voices of family members doing whatever terrible, terrible things your family members do on Christmas morning. The only way to approach matters is by heading straight into the Bucks Fizz, made 50-50 with very cold Champagne and freshly squeezed (there and then) orange juice. Refreshing, oh-so-healthy (my dear, it's positively dripping with Vit-C), it gives you what you need on Christmas morning when you're facing the grotesque annual novelty of breakfasting with your extended family - a controlled, elegant morning buzz. Red Harriet makes it a rule, she tells me, never to get out of bed on Christmas Day before she has heard the pop of the first Champagne cork, which is surely the right attitude.

Incidentally, I saw a litre of something calling itself Bucks Fizz (4% alcohol) on sale in our local shop the other day for £2.49. Good God in Heaven.

Royster Vasey

Gosh, what a long time without posting. Sorry. An enjoyable weekend in old London Town left your blogger feeling rather jaded. It's possible that there was over-indulgence. Blogging in the run-up to Christmas was always going to be patchy, I suppose.

Anyway, Hans, JMP's mixologist, is very excited by a new cocktail to which we were introduced in the big smoke, the Royster Vasey.

Take one oyster, a small amount of chopped shallots, and some horseradish vodka. Mix a bit. Take a deep breath, and swallow. Chewing optional.

As Hans says, while it's something of an act of faith, it's a fascinating texture sliding down your throat, and it's a perfect sharpener!

Update: Hans has reminded me, in the comments, that lime juice and Tabasco are also essential. Trust Hans to remember the tart and spicy side of things. Still, I stand chastened and corrected. I am increasingly of the view that Jeeves served something very similar to Bertie on occasions when his master needed a pick-me-up, saying on first serving it (as you'll remember):

"If you would drink this, sir. It's a little preparation of my own invention. Gentlemen have told me they find it extremely invigorating after a late evening."

Sex in Paul's bedrooom

Hans, JMP's resident mixologist, has come back from his residential training with a twinkle in his eye, ready to deal with all our Sunday cocktail hour requirements. His latest discovery is 'Sex in Paul's bedroom' which, he tells me, is surprisingly satisfying. 

Ingredients: 1 ounce each of raspberry liqueur, Malibu and pineapple juice.

Method: pour ingredients into a Martini glass. Garnish with a glace cherry. Do not mix.

And, as Hans says, bottoms up! 

Sunday cocktail hour

I give you the Duncan MacLoed. Equal parts Coke, Scotch and sake over crushed ice. 

This is great to drink in alone in a bar in a foreign city where you don't know anyone, and you want to pretend you're Bill Murray in Lost in Translation.

Sunday cocktail hour

Yup, it's come round again: it'll shortly be l'heure du cocktail.

In this part of the world it's cold and dark at the moment, so to suit the conditions JMP introduces you to the Hot Jobby: two measures of whiskey (warmed, preferably Jamesons) and half a measure of warm, neat Ribena (or similar blackcurrant cordial, though not any diet or sugarfree versions). Sip in front of a roaring fire, with a slightly puzzled expression on your face.