cocktail review no. 61 - The Green-Tailed Dragon of the Maroon Morning

This picture is highly satirical.

Sounds like a head trip, don't it? And it would be, if you mistakenly confused it with this drink.

But you know me. I get (most) of my classic drinks from one source, and one source only: The Bartender's Bible, by Gary Regan. One thousand and one recipes to suit your every need. This one is another lovely tropical cocktail.

The only thing unusual about it is the name. Okay, yeah, and a few of the ingredients.

• 1½ ounces light rum
• ½ melon liqueur
• 1 ounce pineapple juice
• ½ lime juice
• 1 teaspoon orgeat syrup
• 1 cup crushed ice
• 1 teaspoon cherry brandy

In a blender, combine the rum, melon liqueur, pineapple juice, lime juice and orgeat syrup with the crushed ice. Blend well and pour into an old-fashioned glass. Drop the cherry brandy into the center.

The Sleeping Dragon, they might as well have named it. Not merely for its habit of lunging out of the crystal cave and biting you on the ass, but for its surprisingly delicate flavor as well.

Let me delineate here and now that, (a) I was slightly drunk when I originally mixed this libation, so my discourse on its charms may not be lucid; and (b) due to (a), I forgot to drop the cherry brandy into the drink. I just blended it all together.

Not much was lost. Light rum is sweet and faintly redolent of spice, but possesses none of the fire and flavor of darker rums. Therefore its role in mixed drinks becomes something like vodka: a "negative" or binding agent which maintains a characteristic undertone while allowing other flavors to be stacked on top of it, like Lego bricks. Rum possess an inherent sweetness which greatly enhances any tropical drink (and a great many non-tropical highballs besides). This sweetness is the basis for the Green-Tailed Dragon, which is then accentuated by the lime juice (providing a sour citrus sting); the pineapple juice (its pleasant flavor punctuating the rummy backdrop); the melon liqueur (a gustatory counterpoint which steals the show—the flavor both outshines the rum while simultaneously standing on its shoulders, lending the Dragon a pleasant fruity bouquet and a smooth finish); and the orgeat syrup (which, if you'll recall, is an infusion of citrus flavors, almonds and rose water, combining to form an extremely sweet medley). The cherry brandy is the finisher: though present in small doses, it retains its potency, rendering the drink a luxuriant dark red color and providing a deep fruity overtone to the finish.

Trust me when I say this is nothing like any tropical drink you've sampled before.

Then again, you don't have to take my word for it.

Just forgive the bartender for the funny look he gives you when you belly up to the bar and request "The Green-Tailed Dragon of the Maroon Morning."

cocktail review no. 60 - Scorpion

One of the things I love about drinks is the wild abandon with which they're labeled. Monikers for beverages can be clear off the sliding scale of weirdness and obscurity, and dang near unpronounceable to boot. Tropical drinks are most guilty of this (although shots sometimes take a hand). Although most are semi-normal (Planter's Punch, Hawaiian Cocktail, Tidal Wave), some are downright bizarre (Zocolo, Zombie, the Green-Tailed Dragon of the Maroon Morning).

And then, of course, there's the Scorpion.

The name alone fascinated me, as it does with most drinks I'm compelled to sample. Scorpion. In a world of limp-wristed, foully-named drinks, this one word encapsulated pure-d badass to my ears.

I'd have included a picture of a real scorpion, just to prove my point (as I think scorpions are one of the most badass animals out there), but for one, that would probably have creeped some of you wimps out, and for another, this is a tropical drink I'm reviewing. Which means you'll probably drink it on, near, or within 500 miles of a beach. So here's a sea scorpion for you. Don't worry, they may have been ten feet long but they've been dead for millions of years. Feel free to dunk your toes in the water.

• 1½ ounces añejo rum
• ½ brandy
• 1½ orange juice
• 1 ounce lemon juice
• ½ orgeat syrup
• 1 cup crushed ice
• 1 orange slice
• 1 maraschino cherry

In a blender, combine the rum, brandy, orange juice, lemon juice, and orgeat syrup with the crushed ice. Blend well and pour into an old-fashioned glass. Garnish with the orange slice and the cherry.

Pretty straightforward, right? The only oddball ingredient is that one right there in the middle. "Orgeat syrup." I had to look long and hard for that one. I finally found some at Wine & More, Inc. in Rancho Cucamonga. Or rather, Dad found some. My folks were making a trip down there and I asked them to pick some up for me if they saw it. The clerks really couldn't understand poor Pop when he said "or-gee-at syrup." He finally made himself understood, though, and the clerks came back with a big plastic bottle of pink stuff. In the meantime, I was at home, on my computer, researching. Turns out it's pronounced "or-zhat" syrup. French, see? It's an infusion of citrus juices, almonds and rosewater. And MAN, is it sweet. I suppose it's the syrup you use when simple sugar won't suffice.

Anyway, the taste:

I can confidently say that the addition of brandy and orgeat syrup created a flavor above the norm and beyond the pale in the realm of tropical drinkage. There's a tendency for tropical cocktails to be over-fruity, with pineapple juice taking a dominant role over the booze. Thus you get a crush of fruity redolence, pineapple most primary, with sugar adding a sickly undertone. I've tried a lot of tropical drinks and I'd venture to suggest that this is the main problem I have with them. One gets bored after a while.

Not so with the scorpion. Just as giant scorpions have three ways to kill you (mouth-parts, pincers, and stinging tail), the Scorpion cocktail has three things going for it: the rum, the brandy, and the orgeat syrup. The pineapple juice, I'm glad to say, takes a backseat. The orgeat syrup provides all the sweetness necessary while accentuating the citrus goodness of the orange and lemon juices. The almond flavor provides a lovely counterpart to the smoky spice of the brandy, which gives you a midrange boost (enough to make this blogger rear back, look at his drink, and go "Mmmmm!"). Overlaying this is the rum, which is not subverted and subjugated as in other drinks; it hovers smokily above the rest of the components.

I would venture to suggest that this is the best tropical drink I've ever slugged back.

As always, I invite you to decide for yourself.