Liqueur

The Manhattan cocktail we serve is not to be confused with the contemporary Manhattan. This recipe first appeared in the latter part of the nineteenth century and is referenced in later editions of How to Mix Drinks or the Bon Vivant’s Companion as well as Harry Johnson’s 1882 Bartenders’ Manual. This forgotten formula has a higher ratio of sweet vermouth to rye whiskey, with an accent of orange Curaçao and Boker’s bitters, served straight up with a lemon twist. Cherries in Manhattans came later as the mixture evolved into a different cocktail. The subtle mingling of flavors in this version illustrates an older style of drink making. Of course, as with any epic cocktail, there are several conflicting stories about its origins. Our favorite version has Winston Churchill’s mother, Jennie, ordering its creation for the celebration of Samuel Tilden’s election as governor of New York at the Manhattan Club. As exciting as this may sound, it seems that little Winston had more to do with disproving the theory. At the time of the election, Lady Churchill was in England giving birth to Winston, and the only noted celebration for Tilden actually coincided with the day of Winston Churchill’s christening.

The Elderflower Spritz is EO’s version of the St-Germain cocktail invented by Robert Cooper, the creator of St-Germain liqueur. The difference is that we add lemon slices for citrus in the middle. Our recipe was developed as a French version of the Italian Spritz, to offer to guests who dislike the bitterness of Aperol. Its flowery essence is calming and soothing, with a welcome simplicity.

The Campari Spritz is the predecessor of the Aperol Spritz. Whereas the Aperol version is soft, the Campari version is bold and assertive, so it is served in a smaller rocks glass and garnished with one large green olive. With its robust nature, the Campari Spritz is a very popular aperitivo alongside various antipasti containing olive oil, spices, fresh mozzarella, and seafood such as octopus, calamari, and clams.

One summer morning, I decided to make good use of the ripe stone fruit I had picked up at the farmer’s market. I didn’t have any brioche at home, but I did have a loaf of sourdough. It turned out that the tanginess of the bread was delicious with the sweet fruit. And amaretto adds just the right hint of almond.

If you want to impress at a dinner party, this is the dish to make. The secret ingredient? Jordan almonds, those impossibly hard candies handed out at weddings. They turn into a gorgeous caramelized crust on the roasted duck breast. Simply cooked baby turnips make an elegant accompaniment.

If we had a family drink, this would be it. (Underage kids excepted, of course.) It’s my older daughter Louise’s favorite, and she makes this margarita perfectly for all of us on the weekends. I love the heat of the ginger balanced by aged tequila. Be sure to use high-quality aged tequila here. Otherwise, the drink will taste like spring break gone wild.

To get through the winter months, I rely on bright, in-season citrus like blood oranges. A nice, dry bubbly heightens their vibrant sweetness, as does orange-flavored liqueur. For the flavors to bind properly, you need to combine—but not stir—the ingredients before pouring into flutes. If you can’t find Crémant d’Alsace, my sparkling wine of choice, a dry cava will work as well.

For as long as I can remember, tiramisù has been my favorite non-pie dessert. This pie has all the rich elegance and sophistication of the beloved Italian treat, plus a flaky pastry piecrust to add yet another element to this layered dessert.

These tropical cupcakes, scaled-down versions of the most well-known upside-down cake, have a retro appeal thanks to the flambéed fruit filling.

With scalloped pastry edges and a fruit-streaked, creamy filling, these tarts are almost too pretty to eat, but they’re too delicious not to. The filling is similar to a British spoon dessert called fool, which consists of a fruit sauce (in this case, blackberry) folded into whipped cream; more sauce and fruit is spooned on top. Elderflower cordial, another English specialty, flavors the whipped cream; you can omit the liqueur from the recipe if you want. You could also use it to flavor homemade ice cream to serve alongside.

An all-time favorite fruit pie—strawberry-rhubarb—is utterly charming in miniature. These pielets would be welcome at a family reunion, graduation party, or other summer occasion. Baking the lattice-topped pies in mini muffin tins makes large batches easy to manage. If you’d like to serve the pielets à la mode, use a melon baller to form tiny scoops of ice cream.

Long a harmonious pair, here coffee and pie are served together as one. Chocolate-covered espresso beans hint at the flavor of the filling below, which is spiked with both instant espresso and coffee liqueur.

Season: Spring and summer. The healing, warming properties of sage have long been recognized, and one traditional way to imbibe them is by means of a liqueur, such as this one. The velvety, gray-green leaves are steeped in eau-de-vie and the resulting elixir should, I’m told, be drunk each day to ensure good health and a long life. I take just a capful (not a cupful) myself each morning and find it very restorative. Of course, this is not the only way to use this soothing herb liqueur–a glassful can be enjoyed as a comforting digestif, or a capful can be diluted with tonic water for an aromatic pick-me-up. Gather the sage on a warm, dry day. As an evergreen, this herb can be picked throughout the year, but it’s at its best during the spring and summer months.

Season: Late April to early May. The name for this unusual alcoholic cordial is actually the French word for fruit pit. Traditionally, it was made from bitter almonds or peach pits mixed with gin and left to steep in a warm place for several days before being cooked up with sugar, and then filtered through blotting paper. This recipe is from Richard Mabey’s excellent Food for Free. It uses the young, silken leaves of the European beech tree (Fagus sylvatica), to make an exquisite hedgerow version of the liqueur; the leaves first appear toward the end of April.

Unlike many crumbly cookies, these biscotti are sturdy enough to mail. For a holiday gift, send a batch along with a pound of your favorite coffee beans.

These cookies originated in Spain, but today they are often associated with the American Southwest, particularly New Mexico, where they are the official state cookie. Lard imparts incomparable flavor—it’s worth seeking it out, although vegetable shortening can be substituted.

Crème de cassis is a black currant-flavored liqueur. Chambord, a raspberry-flavored liqueur, makes a fine substitute.

Our alternative to the Arnold Palmer. Serve it in a julep goblet.