Entries associated with the tag "The Violet Hour":

The almost 100-year-old U.S. absinthe ban was lifted a little more than six months ago, after it was determined that the negligible amounts of thujone (a substance that is toxic in large doses but appears in benign quantities in herbs such as thyme, rosemary, and, yes, wormwood) found in absinthe posed no major threat to public health, as the Victorians believed. 

I did my share of "absinthe" drinking as an Oscar Wilde-worshiping teenager, when my goth cronies devised concoctions of wormwood (from the spice aisle of Whole Foods) steeped in legal Pernod (illegally procured by older friends). While living in Japan, one of a handful of countries that was never subjected to an absinthe ban, I got my hands on the real thing. 

Now, postban, any number of Chicago drinking establishments have picked up this legendary spirit: Delilah's serves five varieties while Binny's sells six, the Violet Hour mixes it into cocktails, and Potter's Lounge, the newish hotel bar at the Palmer House Hilton, offers tableside absinthe drip-fountain service. There's no use telling people that nearly identical tipples such as Pernod, pastis, and Chartreuse have been on the market for years, and that it's more likely the insanely high alcohol content (50-75 percent) rather than the thujone content that accounts for the legendary "absinthe high." It's the wormwood mystique that draws drinkers in. 

I recently attended an absinthe seminar at In Fine Spirits (coincidentally the Reader's choice for Best Wine Bar 2008, though the selection of beer and cocktails there ain't bad either). Reps from two different companies were on hand with amusing anecdotes about the history of the drink: Kate Hartman from Kübler Absinthe, a Swiss "bleu" (clear) absinthe, and Sonja and Derek Kassebaum from North Shore Distillery, introducing  Sirene Absinthe, an herby green absinthe made locally in Lake Bluff, Illinois. We sampled a battery of pre-Prohibition cocktails involving absinthe (several of which are offered on the menu at In Fine Spirits), including the crisp, lemony Corpse Reviver No. 2: one ounce each of gin, Lillet Blanc, Cointreau, and lemon juice, with a few drops of absinthe as a subtle accent, and the Sazerac (approved by Louisiana legislators as the official cocktail of New Orleans last month), which is crafted from absinthe, Peychaud bitters, and rye for a flavor that falls between Chinese medicine, potting soil, and a manhattan--in a way that isn't entirely unpleasant. On a recent visit to the wine bar I indulged in "Death at Dusk"--a variation on Ernest Hemingway's recipe for "Death in the Afternoon"--a shot of absinthe topped with champagne and a dash of creme de violette (which accounts for the "dusk," a creepy gray-green hue). It's weirdly reminiscent of the salty-sour Dutch licorice Dubbel Zoute, which is to say it's an acquired taste, but one worth acquiring.

Fortunately we were spared the "modern" absinthe cocktails like the "Green Mint Machine" and the "Root Beer Float" at the seminar. Absinthe is far too subtle (and expensive) to dilute with dreck like chocolate-mint Bailey's and root beer Schnapps. 

Don't fret if you missed the event: In Fine Spirits will be putting on another one July 29.

"In the spirit of camaraderie and cocktail appreciation," Manhattan's Death & Co. and our own Violet Hour are embarking on an interesting four-night experiment beginning Sunday. Alchemy Consulting duo Jason Cott and Toby Maloney have written to tell us of the first-ever bartender exchange between the two cocktail oases. D & C's Joaquin Simo will come to Chicago, while the Violet Hour's Kirk Estopinal heads east.

It's "not simply a bartender vacation," writes Cott, "but a focused idea to share and exchange new techniques and recipes from some of the top cocktailians in the world." Both bartenders are toting their own syrups and bitters, and customers will be encouraged to take advantage of the fresh talent. 

No word on whether Simo will have any foie-gras-infused bourbon on hand for his Loosey Goosey.

We'll let up on our blanket coverage of the Violet Hour after today's fifth and final Cocktail Minute. Here the intrepid barkeep mixes a Whiskey Smash, an old and elementary concoction of muddled lemon, simple syrup, bruised mint, and whiskey. Maloney adds his house-made lemon bitters and, like all the whiskey-based drinks on the bar's menu, uses rye instead of bourbon. That's because he prefers to control the sweetness in a drink himself, and rye's dryness provides a cleaner palette to build upon than an inherently sweet spirit like bourbon. 

That gigantic iceberg in the rocks glass is the infamous chunk, hand hewn by a woodcarver moonlighting as barback. Those things melt slower than a polar ice cap. 

Now sober up!

The Violet Hour's version of the pisco sour, called the Iron Cross, is a bit more complicated than the traditional South American brandy drink in both execution and ingredients. In addition to Chilean pisco, egg white, lemon juice, simple syrup, and Angostura bitters, Maloney adds orange flower water and his own summer bitters, flavored with grapefruit and lavender.

The shaking method Maloney and all his bartenders employ is one of his own invention also. Instead of using the more common Boston shaker--a glass beer pint fitted into a metal shaker--they use a smaller metal shaker on top which, unlike glass, doesn't retain heat after washing, and gets cold faster. It also provides a better grip, and if it does slip it won't ever shatter in the well ice. Maloney says he came up with this in the late 90s, and subsequently Milk & Honey owner Sasha Petraske dubbed it the "Toby Shake."

Tomorrow's final Cocktail Minute will feature the Whiskey Smash. 

Did I mention we have a story about the Violet Hour in Restaurants this week? Here, Toby Maloney mixes his version of the negroni, one of the more dramatic preparations at the bar. It's two parts Beefeeater gin, one part Campari and Carpano Antica red vermouth, almost three dashes of house-made orange bitters, and a spectacular finish.

The supercold ice cubes Maloney uses in this one are made by the bar's Kold-Draft machine, which he calls "the Ferrari of ice machines," not just for its excellence, but for its temperament. "Every one is different," he says.

Coming up Monday: the Iron Cross.

Toby Maloney's influence is already spreading beyond his dark Damen Avenue lair. He and Alchemy Consultants partner Jason Cott recently designed a drink menu for the bar at Blackbird (that restaurant's Donnie Madia also has a stake in the Violet Hour). Eight classic cocktails with new twists may be rolled out as soon as Saturday according to Blackbird co-owner Rick Diarmit, who notes ruefully that he tried to introduce the same thing years ago--cocktails with quality bitters, fresh ingredients, etc.--but "nobody got it."

Today we have Maloney mixing a Southside, one of the simpler drinks on the Violet Hour menu--Beefeater, lime, mint, and Angostura bitters. There has been some chatter about the Southside having a Chicago origin, an idea that was scornfully dismissed last weekend in the Wall Street Journal. Note, the big finish on this drink is known as "spanking the mint." 

After a rough patch in the road, I've become a huge fan of the Violet Hour, Wicker Park's cocktailian oasis. At $11 per, the drinks are stiff in both senses of the word, but to sit at the bar and observe the skill, precision, and yes, love that goes into them, you quickly realize that these fully organoleptic potions are oceans away from the sugary, unbalanced (but comparably priced) splashtinis sloshed together in innumerable fancypants boites. You take your first sip and realize you could be standing on the precipice of a dangerous habit.

There's a story coming up in this week's restaurants section about how Alchemy Consulting partners Toby Maloney and Jason Cott came together, and eventually created one of the most exciting things to happen to drinkers in this city since the passage of the 21st Amendment. During the course of my um, research, I videotaped Maloney mixing various cocktails from the bar's summer menu (soon to be supplanted by the fall's), which we'll be posting over the coming days. Since I volunteered myself for quality control you may notice a progressive decline in camera control, but you'll still get to see Maloney mix his magic. In today's video he makes a Dark & Stormy, a spicy, visually stunning concoction of Matusalem rum, fresh squeezed lime juice, and house-made ginger syrup, topped off with dark Cruzan Black Strap rum. Prefer whiskey to rum? Ask for a Presbyterian.

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
Like a taxi throbbing waiting

--T.S. Eliot, "The Wasteland"

So there I was at 9 PM on Friday trying to get into the Violet Hour, Terry Alexander's new Prohibition-style speakeasy in the former Del Toro space, which by all accounts is suppposed to be our ground zero for the high cocktail culture already well entrenched in New York City. I'd like to tell you if mixologist Toby Maloney's $11 craft cocktails are worth it, but it just didn't go down the way I'd hoped.

First we were greeted and carded by the very dapper and welcoming doorman George, who ushered us into spare, unfinished hallway that leads in the bar proper. We had just enough time to glimpse the candlelight drenched, blue velvet draped lounge--a soothing contrast to the chaos on the street--before George whisked us back onto the sidewalk because the bar had hit capacity. He was apologizing and taking down our cell phone number when a young woman broke ranks from the small line that gathered outside the door, brandishing her own phone and demanding George speak to "DeCarlo." (sp?) That's all it took for him to drop us and shift all of his agreeability to the other end of the line, promising the lady would be well taken care of, and bumping her ahead of us to the top of the list. Still George assured us he'd call soon when there'd be space for us, and that he had a "99% success rate" seating patrons.

That sounded reassuring, if ridiculous, so we headed down to Rodan, where we finished a round of drinks without hearing from George. We moved up Milwaukee to Empire Liquors, where an entertaining and generous barkeep kept us there for two more rounds. By then 90 minutes had passed, and because my ability to judge the Violet Hour was fairly impaired at that point, I was more than willing to give it another shot on a weeknight. But my companions, two ladies who don't need three drinks to become unruly if given cause, wanted to go back and give George heck. Confronted, he dubiously claimed we'd given him the wrong number, but immediately ushered us inside, where we were given drink menus and seated around a table on giant blue thrones. We kept ourselves busy trying to read the menu in the dark--swiping candles from other tables to amp the dim. Before we knew it, some 20 minutes had slipped by and we hadn't seen any of the bar's alchemists.

I realize libations at this level can't be splashed together in seconds, but my friends were threatening to set the menus ablaze, so I hustled them out the door where a surprised George asked us what we thought. "It was bad," we told him. He apologized, and we finished the night sulking over matchlessly bland burritos at Flash Taco.

I know the Violet Hour ain't Coyote Ugly--it's Slow Drink. And maybe it's my own fault for expecting the Wicker Park wasteland to be anything but user unfriendly on a Friday night. But I sure hope George readjusts his percentage the next time he asks for someone's number.