cocktail review no. 42 - Scofflaw

It's about dang time we got back into whiskey cocktails. It's cold and we've gotta keep warm somehow.

Before I begin, I'd like to give you a little lesson in etymology. Why? Because I'm an English minor. And I enjoy expanding my vocabulary. And I think everybody ought to enjoy expanding their vocabulary. And I have a blog, which means I can get my perverse, power-mad, diction-crazed jollies out and you all have to sit there and take it.

"Scofflaw" is an archaic and nearly extinct word denoting a person who routinely flouts the rules, especially where paying debts and answering summonses are concerned. Got a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Sounds like a word you'd find in one of those charming old British children's books with talking animals in it, like The Wind in the Willows or something.

"It seems Toad has wrecked another motorcar," Mole said sadly, shaking his head, "and the magistrate increased his sentence after he gave the policemen some rather bad cheek."
"That dratted Toady!" Rat exclaimed. "He wouldn't have half the troubles he does if he wasn't such a scofflaw."

Anyway, I'm afraid I have no clue about why the term "scofflaw" was applied to this cocktail. I didn't even get the recipe out of The Bartender's Bible (for once). It seems Mum was poking around the Net and came across a list of rare and antiquated cocktails: the scofflaw, the monkey gland, and the aviation cocktail being some of the most prominent. She printed it out and showed it to me, and expressed her interest in sampling them. I would have whipped one up for her right then and there, but each of the drinks required an oddball ingredient. Aviation cocktails must have maraschino liqueur (the rarity of this beverage almost spelled doom for the drink); monkey glands take Pernod or Bénédictine (in some versions, it's absinthe); and a proper scofflaw needs a dash of orange bitters. An orange bitters differs from ordinary bitters in that, yes, as the name suggests, it's been infused with orange flavoring (usually the peels of Seville oranges).

It's extremely rare stuff, orange bitters. It was hard to find in the U.S. for quite some time. It's not something you can just walk into a liquor store and pick up, usually. But I got my chance on December 11, when Mom, Dad and I went down to Ontario Airport to pick up my brother H, back from college for Christmas. His flight was delayed, so we stopped off at BevMo. For the uninitiated, BevMo is similar to Sam's Club or Costco...only it sells booze, booze, and nothing but booze. Their wine selection would put the Count of Monte Cristo to shame. They have enough craft beers to choke a horse. And their spirit repertoire is second to none, and at pretty decent prices, too. Dad picked up a few bottles of his favorite gin (Broker's), as well as some 12-year-old Glenlivet; and I spotted a bottle of Cutty Sark for an unbelievably low $16.99 (speaking of Scotland). But the golden horn came when I perused the mixer section. There it was, a bottle of orange bitters, bottled by Gary Regan (the author of The Bartender's Bible) no less. Six dollars and forty-nine cents. I'd made some pretty decent tips that weekend at the café, so I jumped on it.

And last night, I went ahead and mixed up a scofflaw.

This concludes the etymology lesson.

• 1¼ ounces rye whiskey
• ¾ ounce dry vermouth
• ½ ounce lemon juice
• ½ ounce grenadine
• 1 dash orange bitters
• 1 lemon twist

In a cocktail shaker half-filled with ice cubes, combine the whiskey, vermouth, lemon juice, grenadine, and bitters. Shake and strain into a cocktail glass. Squeeze the lemon twist over the drink.

I didn't have rye whiskey, but I've been told that stuff ain't much different than other grain whiskies. So I just substituted some Black Velvet instead. And I'll tell you, for having a long list of disparate ingredients, this drink came out very well. Not even the dreaded whiskey-bitters combination (which usually produces cough syrup) could mar the flavor. This drink tastes almost like cherry lemonade, people. The juices and syrups are up top, providing an inviting nose and a less-than-subtle bouquet. The tang and bite of the bitters and whiskey (respectively) supplement this first impression, and yet also provide a dynamic counterpoint, creating a suitably hard-bitten undertone to please those who prefer a robust libation. In a nutshell, this is a pleasant cocktail with a unique flavor...and a bit of a kick. I'd recommend it to anyone, young or old, male or female, Kramer or Newman.