The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
A make-your-own Old-Fashioned bar
It may be what your Thanksgiving needs to keep everyone sane.
Every year, I think about varying the Thanksgiving menu. Should we make a Mediterranean feast? Could we play with the ingredients or give the usual flavors a different inflection — curried sweet potatoes, a habanero-blackberry sauce instead of cranberry? Could we cut back on the massive amounts of butter just enough so that late at night, while I’m lying in bed filled with regret, my night sweats don’t contain trace amounts of butterfat?
Almost inevitably, I conclude: Nah. It just never seems the time for it. To me, holiday meals are there to reach into some recessed part of the American brain, accessing the weirdness that causes us to forget people’s names within seconds of being introduced to them but leaving us able to conjure the exact aromatic tapestry of Mom’s Thanksgiving dinner when we were 6.
The same desire for familiarity governs the tipples I want to prelude holiday meals, that stretch when the smells permeating the house incite increasingly ominous stomach growls. This is not the time for some newfangled dragon fruit-kimchi highball or pastrami-washed dry vermouth — not for a room of people who are gritting their teeth, trying to be on their best behavior and silently mouthing to themselves, “Remember, she’s family; remember, she’s family,” possibly in reference to you.
Instead, have mercy, and provide your poor kinfolk with the chance to doctor up and sip their own bittersweet bolt of booze. Then cross your fingers that they drink just enough to set them at ease, and not so much that they come to blows.
The Old-Fashioned is about as close as you can get to one of the earliest-known definitions of the cocktail itself: “a stimulating liquor, composed of spirits of any kind, sugar, water, and bitters,” according to a New York state newspaper in 1806. That’s all the drink is (the water coming in the ice), but as many historians have illuminated, it has gone through many awkward phases over the years.
An Old-Fashioned bar with all the bitters and garniture and sweeteners at hand will accomplish a number of goals: It allows guests to make their own drinks with pleasure, so you can focus on making sure your cousin’s attempt to deep-fry a turkey doesn’t create a fiery avian projectile, or sneak away from your family to the tender embrace of your phone. The drink also provides a means of bonding in and of itself, as guests can play with ingredients and taste each other’s concoctions. And your little bar space provides a place where guests can walk away from awkward conversations. Repeat after me: “Well, Aunt Marie, if I’m going to follow your advice to get working on a young’un while my ovaries are in their prime, I better get my drinking out of the way first. Shall we have a drink?”
Setting up your bar
Here’s what you’ll need:
■ Bar space: If you don’t have a good, sturdy bar cart, create a tabletop space to gather ingredients and allow guests to do minimal prep work. You may want a little sign to guide them, explaining that the standard recipe is 2 ounces of spirit, a little sugar, a few dashes of bitters and ice — and they can take it from there.
■ Glassware and tools: You’ll need rocks glasses and a bar spoon for stirring. A muddler is useful too, to mash up the bitters and sugar (and the fruit, if guests opt to do so), but you can also go with another early tool: Small spoons, just taller than the rim of the glasses, which guests can use to stir and to scrape up the tasty remnants.
■ Spirits: You’ll want at least three or four bottles of good, sippable spirits: at least a bourbon, a rye and a brandy. They don’t have to be the most expensive, but you don’t want junk.
While they’re not traditional, an aged rum, a dry gin and even agave spirits can make an appearance. If you include a gin and an elderflower liqueur like St-Germain, guests can make a wellknown variation: the Elder Fash-
ioned (2 ounces gin, half an ounce liqueur, 2 dashes of orange bitters and a grapefruit twist). And with mezcal, tequila and agave nectar, you can make an Oaxaca Old-Fashioned — both modern classics.
■ Sweeteners: The classic is defined by the muddling of bitters into sugar. But there are plenty of other options: different kinds of sugar, agave nectar, honey syrup (1:1 honey and hot water, which helps honey dissolve in a cold drink). Sugar cubes already dosed with bitters and other flavorings (as in the accompanying recipe). Flavored syrups: ginger or cinnamon. Liqueurs or a PX sherry can also serve as sweeteners.
■ Bitters: Angostura bitters are a must, with their notes of baking spice, but you can vary the menu with orange, the anise-y Peychaud’s, or other bitters with darker or spicy flavors — think black walnut, cardamom or chocolate.
■ Garnishes: While the modern cocktail movement tends to pooh-pooh the fruit that was once piled into Old-Fashioneds, here’s your chance to allow for experimentation. You’ll want whole lemons and oranges that guests can peel, orange slices, brandied cherries and maybe ripe pineapple if you really want to violate the rules of nature.
■ Ice: You don’t need more than fresh, clean cubes, but if you plan ahead, you can prep some big, clear cubes that will be slower to melt and fit perfectly into a standard rocks glass. Several companies now make molds that allow the home consumer to make clear ice in a regular freezer.