Throw it Back Thursday: A Sour for Every Season

In my short tenure as a bar maiden, I have observed a rather wide variety of commonly occurring tendencies that (in my opinion) compromise the integrity of several important elements required to build a quality cocktail.  One of the most prevalent and simultaneously offensive is the abuse of the term “sour”. Anyone who has ever visited a beach bar, a corporate Americanized Mexican restaurant, or endeavored to procure a delicious at-home recipe for a margarita can attest to this fact, though some may not find it nearly as disturbing as I do.

The history of the “sour” is actually rather straightforward. According to legend (as nailing down an actual, reliable historical reference for such a thing seems to be an impossible task), British sailors in the 1700’s began drinking lemon or lime juice to prevent scurvy during long ventures at sea, and adding whatever liquor was available as a means of preservation. With time, they discovered that adding a bit of sugar to the mix made the combination more tolerable, and the delicious concoction eventually made its way to shore. Thus, the “sour” was born. Whether mixed with rum, gin, brandy, or whiskey, the concept of the term sour is not (rather, should not be) a reference to a mysterious bottle of neon-green colored pre-made “sour mix”, but rather a very fundamental combination of juices and spirits.

Now let’s talk about whiskey. The first documented record of a recipe for the whiskey sour can be found in an 1862 version of The Bartender’s Guide by Jerry Thomas:

– use a small bar glass
– take 1 large teaspoonful of powdered white sugar, dissolved in a little seltzer or apollinaris water
– add the juice of half a small lemon
-add 1 wine-glass of bourbon or rye whiskey
-fill the glass full of cracked ice, shake up, and strain into a claret glass. Ornament with berries.

For those of you who are unaware of the historical/ archaic bar language, a “wine glass of liquor” measures to 2oz.  However, for those of you who would appreciate a little more specificity than “a wine glass of bourbon or rye whiskey” or “the juice of half of a small lemon”, here is a slightly more structured description:

Basic Whiskey Sour

– using a Boston or Cheater Tin shaker
– add 2 oz bourbon or rye whiskey
– 1/2 oz 1:1 simple syrup (equal parts granulated sugar to water)
– 1/2 oz lemon juice
– fill the glass or tin with cracked ice and shake until chilled
– add a few cubes into a rocks glass, then strain the contents of the shaker over the ice  

 

I have seen numerous variations that require a smaller proportion of sugar, a heavier hand on the citrus, or the use of the citrus as a means by which to dissolve the sugar in lieu of preparing simple syrup in advance.  As in most scenarios in which the palate is involved (especially when it is that of a paying customer), I believe that preference plays an enormous role, so if you throw this together and find that you would prefer a bit more bite from your citrus or in contrast more sweetness, feel free to adjust accordingly (but by all means, within reason).

Although there are a number of bourbon and rye based libations that I call favorite, this cocktail holds a very special place in my heart; nothing screams “basking in the afternoon sun on the patio” like the frothy mixture of a good rye whiskey and sweetened lemon juice.  Like many venerable cocktails of its kind, the whiskey sour has seen countless variations and adaptations over the years, two of which have garnered more attention than the rest (presumably because they are the best): the Boston sour and the New York sour.

Interestingly enough, the New York sour is said to have actually been created by a bartender in Chicago in the late 1870’s. Known initially as the Continental Sour or the Southern Whiskey Sour, the cocktail remained relatively under the radar until it was picked up and made popular by a bartender in New York; thus is why it acquired the title of ownership.  This delightful twist on the classic simply incorporates a layered splash of bright, dry red wine on top of the drink, which adds a touch of berry goodness to the already flawless, zesty flavor.

The Boston sour, while remaining true to the original sour’s ingredients, incorporates an egg white to the mix, giving this variation a wonderfully silky, decadent mouth feel.  If you’re asking why this isn’t classified as a fizz or more specifically as a Silver Fizz (since it uses egg whites), it’s because the proportions of the base ingredients are dissimilar to that of a fizz.  Although there is some debate on that…another subject for another time perhaps.  Personally, I find both of these ideas to be both exciting and complimentary to the classic, without in any way compromising the beautiful balance that the original drink offers; so I decided to experiment.

About a month ago, I worked at an incredible little barbeque and bourbon bar up in Huntersville, North Carolina, where I had one of the most exquisite arrays of bourbon I have ever seen at my disposal on a daily basis.  One afternoon, my general manager brought in a box of small batch, locally crafted bitters called Bittermilk, with which I was instructed to “play”. You know what they say about idle hands…

For those of you who are unfamiliar, Bittermilk is a husband and wife owned company in Charleston, South Carolina, who – fueled by experience in and passion for the restaurant and bar industry, began creating their own craft cocktail mixers from real, natural, and in most cases organic produce, herbs, roots, and more. Now don’t let your brain revert back to our earlier disgraceful “sour mix” discussion – the mixers that make up the Bittermilk line of products are as genuine and hand crafted as they come. If you are a crafter or connoisseur of the cocktail realm of the universe, do yourself a favor and read more about their delicious creations at Bittermilk.com.

The first bottle of Bittermilk that caught my interest was their No. 3: Smoked Honey Whiskey Sour.  I could try to find more descriptive or accurate words to detail the complexity and balance of flavor in this tiny bottle, but they would fall short.  In short, they named this product perfectly.  So, with a sweet and tangy taste on my tongue and my recently stimulating discovery of the New York Sour, I set out on a mission.

Here’s what I came up with:

Sour Caroline
Yeah, it’s a Neil Diamond pun.  Since, I’m using both a South Carolina product as well as a play on the Boston Sour here.  Deal with it.

• 1 oz Willet Rye or 13th Colony Southern Rye (choose your own adventure)
• 1/2 oz lemon juice
• 1/2 oz simple syrup
• 1/2 oz Bittermilk No. 3
• 1 egg white
• 3 dashes orange bitters
• 1 oz Malbec to float (I used Reunion)

– Build the first 5 ingredients in a shaker and top with ice.
– Shake vigorously (the egg white needs at least 15 seconds to form its fantastic froth), then strain over new ice in a rocks glass.
– Add 3 dashes of orange bitters, then delicately layer the malbec on top.
– Garnish with raspberries or blackberries.

Unlike the original New York sour recipe, I chose a richer, more fruit-forward wine to top off my sour, mainly because I was really looking for a stark (yet complimentary) contrast in flavor between the top and bottom layers of my drink.  The cool, velvety malbec introduces your palate to the aromatics and flavor of the cocktail with a smooth boldness of tart berries, which is followed immediately by the bright zest and smoky sweetness of the Bittermilk and lemon, then finishes with the robust spiciness of the rye.

In spite of my slight deviations from and additions to the original recipe, I find the final product to not only hold true to the flavor and feel that the classic cocktail exhibits, but also to appeal to an assortment of patrons that might not normally call themselves “whiskey drinkers”, and almost any other drink slinger would consider such an accomplishment to be a victory.

 

Cheers!

Chelsea