cocktail review no. 32 - Stinger

I'm beginning to feel like a manipulative five-year-old again—or more like a genie in a magic lamp. With a sigh, or an impassioned look, I can summon any bottle of liquor to this house.

Partly out of pride in my progress through bartender's school, and partly out of parental affection, my folks have been stumping up for strange liqueurs all seven months I've been home. The most recent acquisition? A bottle of green crème de menthe. Ordinarily, my folks wouldn't be caught dead with crème de menthe. Mom, in particular, wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. She hates mint, especially minty drinks. She can't stand 'em. Naturally she was somewhat averse to the idea of bringing a innocuous green bottle of the enemy into the house. But after I painted glowing pictures of all the cocktails I could be making IF ONLY I could get my hands on some crème de menthe...Mom relented. Bless her loving heart.

The things my folks do for me...I don't know how I'll ever thank them. Probably by living next door to them and taking them out to lunch every day.

It wasn't just motherly sacrifice, though. Ma was vaguely curious. One of her favorite movies (and mine) is The Apartment, with Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine. (Fancy a guy named "Lemmon" being in the same movie with cocktail parties! There may very well be a just and loving God after all.)

There's a particularly memorable scene in that film, involving a cocktail party. On the menu that evening were "a frozen daiquiri, a Rum Collins, a Tom and Jerry, and a stinger." Ma had heard of some of these drinks before, and was intrigued. Over the course of the last seven months I have eagerly sated Mom's curiosity about those drinks. One by one I've mixed them up for her, she and Dad and I have sat around in the living room and tested them, and duly crossed them off the list. As of the night of February 16, only one remained. This one.

• 2 ounces brandy
• ½ ounce white crème de menthe

In a mixing glass half-filled with ice cubes, combine the brandy and crème de menthe. Stir well and strain into a cocktail glass.

Yes, yes, I know. The recipe says white crème de menthe. As I mentioned, we had green. But there's no difference in flavor between the two; just color. We didn't mind drinking green drinks if we knew we were still getting the authentic stinger flavor. And get it we did.

We weren't expecting much. We anticipated being overwhelmed with mint. We expected liquefied pillow mints, in fact. What we got was something else entirely. We found, instead, that the mint flavor of the crème de menthe was more like kiddie mouthwash: pleasant, mild, not overwhelming in the slightest. We weren't puckering up while drinking it.

Moreover, we could still taste the brandy, which is fortunate, because we've got some good brandy at my house. There's some E&J VSOP on one side of the liquor cabinet ("VSOP" stands for "Very Special, Order of the Prince"; definitely upper middle class), and a bottle of Hennessy cognac on the other side. In other words, the stinger pleasantly surprised us. It's not overpowering or wanting in good taste. On the contrary, the mint and brandy boutiques complement each other rather well. Up top, the heady aroma and cool flavor of the mint liqueur dances over the tongue, backed by the burnt depths of the brandy beneath (how's that for some alliteration, eh?). Be sure to heave a slight sigh after every swig; your mouth will feel an Arctic blast, as though you've just run a measure of Listerine through it...and the brandy will have a little to say as well.

Worth your time. Just pretend your Frasier Crane from Cheers and drink up.