Our Patriotic Duty

We’re in a bad way. The economy has gone to hell and no one’s sure quite how to fix it. We need the free market or greater regulation, depending on whom you talk to, not socialism or unchecked capitalism. We need more spending or less spending, blah blah. It’s all mortgage rates and talking points. No one agrees on anything, except this: We got way ahead of ourselves. We need to slow down.

Here’s an idea.

There was a time — not a recent time, mind you, but a time — when sensible people pondered sensible fiscal practices over sensible drinks. They called these drinks “cocktails.” Cocktails take a while to make. They take longer to drink. Our theory, then: Learn to fix a Tom Collins and somewhere, near the bottom probably, you’ll find the key to fixing America.

Without being oppressively conservative (look at where that got us), we selected drinks that cleave to the classic definition of a cocktail — simply put, a drink composed of one or more parts booze, sugar, water and bitters. In cases where prudence or scarcity caused people to improvise (the sweet tang of lime juice functioning as both sugar and bitter, for example), we decided to not be fundamentalists.

There are, however, limits to our liberalism.

These are not blender drinks. They cannot be meted out a gallon at a time with a pitcher and a wooden stirring spoon. (We ain’t makin’ sangria.) These are drinks that have an order to their preparation. The type of glass matters. They require proper proportions and precise movements. If you get it wrong, it won’t taste right.

Though they are process-heavy, the ingredient lists are light. You can make them outside, over the Fourth of July weekend if you like. They’ll take time, though. That’s the whole point. We are a nation of too few secular rituals. We don’t ponder enough or work enough or persevere enough, and it’s tarnishing our spirit.

It has already tarnished our spirits. We’ll reclaim those first. And maybe, when we taste the sweet fruit (juices and orange liqueurs) of our labor, we’ll remember again the value of an honest day’s work.

So here: We’re raising a glass — old fashioned, preferably, or cocktail — to simplicity, diligence and forethought. Then we’ll raise another.

And another.

Drink Recipes

OLD FASHIONED
Source: The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks | Glass: Old Fashioned

12 parts American whiskey
1 part simple syrup
3 dashes bitters
2 cubes ice

Add bitters to simple syrup and stir. Add about 1 ounce of whiskey and stir again. Add two cubes of cracked, but not crushed, ice and top off with the rest of the whiskey. Twist lemon peel over the top and serve garnished with the lemon peel and a maraschino cherry.

SIDECAR
Origin: Paris, World War I | Source: The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks | Glass: Cocktail

8 parts Cognac
2 parts lemon juice
1 part triple sec (or any orange liqueur)

Shake vigorously with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a twist of lemon.

TOM COLLINS
Origin: New York, mid-1800s | Glass: Collins

8 parts gin
4 parts fresh lemon juice
1 part simple syrup
Club soda

Shake gin, lemon juice and simple syrup with ice and pour into a Collins glass almost full of ice. Top with soda. Garnish with a maraschino cherry and orange wedge.

VODKA GIMLET
Glass: Old Fashioned or Cocktail

2 parts vodka
1 part Rose’s Lime Juice
Club soda optional (if you like the fizz)

With soda: pour vodka and lime juice into Old Fashioned glass with two cubes of ice, top with soda. Stir. Without soda: shake vigorously with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with lime wedge in either case.

PEGU CLUB
Origin: Burma, late 1800s | Glass: Cocktail

8 parts gin
3 parts triple sec
2 parts Rose’s Lime Juice
3 dashes bitters

Shake vigorously with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with lime wedge.

SAZERAC
Origin: Antebellum New Orleans | Glass: Old Fashioned

4 parts rye whiskey
1 part simple syrup
3 dashes bitters
Absinthe   

One Old Fashioned glass is packed with ice. In a second Old Fashioned glass, muddle sugar cube and bitters. Add whiskey to sugar/bitters. Empty ice and rinse glass with absinthe, coating the sides of the glass. Discard excess absinthe. The rye/sugar/bitters mixture is then poured into the absinthe-coated glass. Twist lemon peel to release its essence but don’t drop it in the glass.