Jeffrey Morgenthaler

You guys don’t realize how good you’ve got it. See, when I was a young blogger, we didn’t have all these new, fancy blogs that you guys have got nowadays. There was none of this Kaiser Penguin business, and certainly not the Scofflaw’s Den. Hell, Boudreau was probably still in Canada back then, for all I know.

All we had back in those days was The Art of Drink, some of Paul’s early material, and a now-defunct little blog called DC Drinks. Put on by a couple of wiseacres from our nation’s capital, the guys from DC Drinks were not only some of my biggest influences as a blogger, but they were also instrumental in helping me start spreading the word about Repeal Day online.

So when Derek Brown called me and asked if I’d like to come out to Washington and celebrate Repeal Day with the Washington, D.C. Craft Bartenders Guild, I didn’t have to think twice, I jumped on that plane and ran back East for yet another adventure.

Our weekend began with a quick cocktail at Bourbon, and then a beautiful ten course dinner at Vidalia, with a special food and cocktail pairing menu prepared especially for us by chef R.J. Cooper. We recoiled with delight as wave after wave of plates arrived at the table, accompanied by solidified twists on cocktails and traditional drinks paired brilliantly by sommelier Ed Jenks We sat and chatted with Tony Abou-Ganim, Guild President Owen Thompson, Melanie da Trinidade-Asher of Macchu Pisco, Eric Seed, Emma Davis of Martin Miller’s Gin, and Bill Thomas, owner of Bourbon.

Nightcaps were brilliantly prepared by Chantal Tseng at the Tabard Inn, however by this point I was feeling the effects of a full day’s travel and a full belly’s meal, so I bade farewell to my friends and found my way to bed.

After some light sightseeing the next day I was ready to get my hands dirty. I’d previously agreed to tend bar with my friend Jacob Grier at the Cato Institute’s policy forum, so afterwards Jacob and I put out a few hundred Martinezes, Manhattans and Sazeracs for the thirsty crowd. But, as in any social situation, the place I feel the most comfortable is behind the bar, so while I had trouble tearing myself away from the event I knew it was time to get ready for the party.

The Great Hall at the City Tavern Club is painted in history, having played host to practically every major American political figure in history, from George Washington and John Adams right up to Ronald Reagan. Which is great, because when you’re in Washington you want to feel that connection to the nation’s history - especially when celebrating such a historic day as we were.

One thing you’ve got to love about Washington D.C. is the glamour you’ll find at a major event like this - it’s certainly not like anything you’ll ever find on the West Coast. Really, people went all out with period dress, flapper costumes, tuxedoes, and more hip flasks than LeNell could shake a bottle of Pre-Prohibition rye and tiny funnel at.

But that’s neither here nor there. The point is that I can’t really do this event justice through words and photos. The Guild did the most incredible job of transporting everyone in the building to the Eve of Repeal, from the live swing band and our mustachioed toastmaster to the myriad bars scattered around the Hall serving pre- or Prohibition era cocktails to the thirsty masses.

But soon the hour was fading yet again, and while I could (or should) have found my way back to the hotel, I instead opted to join our hosts at the private after-party at DC’s newest speakeasy, Gibson.

I’m not usually a huge fan of private clubs and speakeasies. I’ve been to bars that were exclusive to the point of being inhospitable. I’ve experienced - on two separate establishments - being stalled at the door by a host, only to find an empty room upon entry. I think that while the speakeasy concept can work, the point is often missed by the employees of the establishment and the whole thing becomes poorly translated into a worthwhile bar experience.

But not so at The Gibson. Upon gaining entry through the unmarked front door you are taken through a dark hallway to one of the warmest, friendliest, most inviting spaces I’ve ever been in - and I’ve been in a few bars. The staff is incredibly hospitable, there seem to be no unrealistic expectations of inebriated human behavior in place, and the drinks are downright incredible. It’s everything you want from a speakeasy, and you can still whisper the F-word across the table to your friends without fear of castigation.

We broke no-standing-room-only policy as a hundred-plus of us filled the room; bartenders, rabble-rousers, bloggers, Repeal Day advocates, liquor tradespeople and cocktail aficionados all rubbed elbows around the never-ending punch bowl in the back room of The Gibson.

But oh-my-head, and soon I found myself sitting at the bar with Derek in a thinned-out version of the earlier scene, being served some magnificent cocktails by our infatigable and persistent bartenders John and Tiffany until the wee hours of the morning.

There’s more to this trip - much more - including a trip to Alexandria to visit with the brilliant Mr. Todd Thrasher at two of his three bars, but that will have to wait for another post as I’ve already taken three days to write this. So talk amongst yourselves, what did you do for Repeal Day? Were you at the party in DC? Have you ever been to The Gibson? What are your experiences with speakeasies around the world? Leave a note in the comments section below.

Update: I’ve been given permission to use some of Silamith Weir’s photos that she shot over the weekend, so you’ll see some new/better pictures interspersed in the post now.

I landed in New Jersey a day after the competitors arrived in New York, so upon arrival I was immediately whooshed away to the beautiful home of Josh Emmett and Helen Cranage, who very conveniently happen to have a Prohibition-era speakeasy bar in their basement. A quick shower later and I was helping Jason Scott of Edinburgh’s Bramble Bar and Lounge stock the bar with loads and loads of our favorite, Martin Miller’s Gin.

Soon the vans pulled up and out poured most of the competitors - and even some of the judges. The bar was rocking like it was 1929 as Sam Kershaw held down the stick and kept everyone in Clover Clubs, Hayes Fizzes, Aviations, Martinis, Last Words and Gin-and-Tonics.

The party went on for hours, with the US and the UK teams mingling and getting to know one another while Jamie Boudreau of Tini Bigs in Seattle embarked on his campaign of verbal terror, clearly hoping to gain an edge on the competition a day early.

But as all good things must eventually come to an end, the party was soon over and we were on our way to visit our good friend Jim Meehan at Please Don’t Tell for some truly incredible cocktails and a nonstop parade of gourmet (or would it be gourmand if you eat three of them?) hot dogs.

But the competition was looming on everyone’s mind, so we thanked Jim for his gracious hospitality and inspiring cocktails and made our way back to the hotel for a brief nap.

The following morning found us in the dark, windowless, yet timeless and elegant Death and Company for the first-ever Martin Miller’s Gin Master’s Competition. After a brief introduction of the contest and judges, we were on our way and being treated to a show by Giles Looker of Soulshakers. Giles grew up in Oxford, an area with a rich tradition of rowing, so Giles presented the judges with his version of a Pimm’s Cup with sweet vermouth, gin, Campari, Cointreau, grapefruit, fresh citrus and 7-Up. But what really set his presentation apart was the miniature rowing race/drinking game that he presented alongside his cocktail.

Jake Burger of Jake’s Bar and Grill and The Portobello Star and Jason Scott of Bramble came on strong with loads of witty chat and a one-two punch of classic-inspired cocktails: Jake’s Rule (or was it Rhub?) Britannia, and combination of Miller’s Westbourne Strength Gin, Campari, vintage orange bitters and a rhubarb syrup; and Jason’s Sangaree-esque Sangria, made with gin, lime, grapefruit-chamomile bitters, and a tonic of neutral grain spirits and port wine, all over crushed ice.

Ben Reed of IPBartenders took a different tack and went on the offensive - literally. After plastering the bar with images of his mug (and mugs with his mug) he made several thinly-veiled references to his genitalia, poured something resembling bull semen from an unmarked bottle, and called the whole mess of cinnamon-infused gin, distilled pineapple, cream, and possible animal husbandry by-product “Reedo’s Gin Jizz”. Nobody dared admit its deliciousness.

The crowd could barely understand Sean Muldoon’s thick Irish accent, particularly considering the ringing still left in their ears after Ben’s behind-the-bar banter with LeNell Smothers. But the head bartender of the Merchant Hotel in Belfast whipped up one of the simpler and most delicious cocktails of the afternoon, a French 71 (as in 1971, the year I was born. Thanks, Sean!), with Miller’s gin, oloroso sherry, lemon, simple syrup and champagne. Brilliantly executed and simple.

Since the United Kingdom team used up over three hours of a four-hour event, it was on the Americans to hustle through their presentations before the bar needed to open for business. So my good friend, the very talented Daniel Shoemaker from the Teardrop Lounge in Portland, Oregon got up and breezed through his drink, the African Swallow, a combination of gin, homemade blood orange shrub, a vintage pre-recipe-change Lillet Blanc, and a dash of Chartreuse Elixir Vegetale - a combination that inspired Gary Regan to whisper the word “amazing”.

Jamie Boudreau went all retro on the crowd’s collective ass, bringing back 2007’s “Molecular Mixology” craze for his drink “Angela’s Stars”, named after the still that Martin Miller’s Gin is made in. Jamie took the complex blend of gin, pineau de charentes and creme de violette and put the whole mixture into a carbonator and pumped the drink full of sparkling bubbles. I wasn’t able to get a picture of the contraption, but the scene looked something like this:

Vincenzo Marianella of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant London in Los Angeles charmed and delighted the crowd with his Italian accent and confident bartending, while his drink, “Bella Rosemary” delighted with a simple blend of gin, apricot brandy, muddled rosemary, lemon and orgeat over crushed ice.

One of my favorite New York bartenders, Giuseppe Gonzalez from Clover Club in Brooklyn (formerly of the Flatiron Lounge) broke down and reconstructed the classic sling, with his drink the Sling-Sling (or Sling Squared). Here’s how you make it: start with some gin and a dash each of aromatic and orange bitters, then throw the kitchen sink at it and add grenadine, orgeat, Cynar, Campari, maraschino liqueur, yellow Chartreuse, Lillet Blanc, Carpano Antica Formula vermouth, and soda. Ice is optional if you have room left in the glass. But despite the crazy recipe, there was a definite method to Giuseppe’s madness, and I think it came out well in the drink.

Erik Adkins of The Slanted Door in San Francisco has this magical way with citrus in cocktails that I’ve never completely understood, and I think he knows it. He built a simple Silver Fizz, with gin, organic simple syrup, fresh homegrown Bears lime juice, egg white, and tonic water garnished with a Seville orange twist. And as with every other cocktail I’ve received from Erik, it was brilliant.

In stark contrast to the many simple cocktails from the American team was Milk and Honey bartender Sam Ross’ presentation of a classic Christmas-style punch. Made with gin, muddled lemon peel, a pine and stonefruit liqueur, rich Demerara syrup, lemon juice, Regan’s Orange Bitters, champagne and absinthe, Sam’s drink was served in a crystal punchbowl with a little Christmas tree frozen into the ice base. Sam deserved extra credit for making enough to drink for the whole room, and for a brilliant presentation.

But they saved the biggest and the best for last. Legendary San Francisco bartender Thad Vogler - all seven feet of him - came in and showed the rest of the contestants how to really do it: with grace, humility, and simplicity. His combination of gin, spätlese reisling, a dash each of housemade cherry and peach bitters was easily one of the best drinks I’d tried all day.

But in the end, it was the winning combination of bartending showmanship, attention to detail, presentation and adherence to classic cocktail construction that made Mr. Sam Ross the winner of the Martin Miller’s Gin Master’s Competition.

I never got a chance to talk with Sam this weekend, but I’ve been a big fan of his drinks for quite a while. So much so, that I’ve been making some of his concoctions at the bar. And one of them has gone over so well that I received this email just today:

I simply MUST have the recipe for that drink you made me… Penicillin? I’m positively spelling it wrong, but that doesn’t discount my love for it. I can’t stop thinking about it. I may leave my husband for it. I may marry it or just have a torrid affair…me and my scotch topped wonderlove… I’m jealous of the ice that gets to swim in it’s magic… is that enough begging? Please post it soon.

Well, I’m not going to post Sam’s recipe for the Penicillin here, but maybe if he’s reading, he’ll do us the honors. Congratulations to Sam and everyone who competed, it was a pleasure to watch you all in action.

After attending and presenting at the Bar Convent Berlin in September, I felt like taking a few days off and not blogging. I know it sounds like whining, but I needed a break even if it meant that I didn’t get to write up the tail-end of my trip to Germany. So I’m going to assume this is a better-late-than-never situation and give you a full report of one of the finest bars in the world. Here goes:

I left Berlin on Wednesday morning following a long night of revelry after the awards show. There’s nothing you need after a long week at a bar conference more than sparkling water, sushi, and a big TV in front of a comfy sofa, so I made a quick visit up to the port town of Kiel on the Baltic Sea to visit an old friend from college. Kiel is a really beautiful little town, I can highly recommend taking a walking tour through the city in the blustery rain - just wear the right shoes. Might I recommend you do not wear an old pair of Chuck Taylors with a hole on the side like I did? Just a suggestion.

Anyway, I then made my way back down through the gorgeous German countryside to Hamburg, which is easily one of the most incredible cities I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. The lake, the city center, even the train station. It was there in beautiful Hamburg that I settled in for a long night at Jörg Meyer’s bar, Le Lion.

I first heard about Le Lion in July at Tales of the Cocktail in New Orleans, where they were presented with the award for Best New Cocktail Bar. Knowing at the time that I’d be in nearby Berlin in September, I made quiet plans to visit.

When I arrived at Le Lion, I was greeted at the door by Herr Meyer and his brilliant bartender, Mario Kappes. I was seated at the bar next to some friends, given a hardshell-bound cocktail menu, and asked what I’d like to have first.

And this is where I have to back the story up: Berlin, Monday night.

A big group of us went to dinner at Schnitzelei, a modern schnitzel and German tapas house, and I had the great pleasure of being seated next to Gonçalo de Sousa Monteiro. Gonçalo is something of a legend in the German bar scene; his drinks are on menus all over Berlin, he participates as one of the Traveling Mixologists, and most recently helped set up the drink menu at Le Lion.

We talked extensively about bartending, our philosophies regarding mixology, and of course, cocktails. I sat and listened to him wax poetic about a journey of discovery with the old classic, the Blood and Sand. Like myself, Gonçalo had never really cared for the Blood and Sand until reading about it in Ted Haigh’s book Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails. Accepting Dr. Cocktail’s authority on all things cocktailian, Gonçalo went on a quest for the best ingredients and most balanced proportions to perfect this drink. And by the end of his story I was drooling from one corner of my mouth - I had to try his Blood and Sand once I got to Le Lion.

I confidently placed my order for Gonçalo’s Blood and Sand, and it arrived expertly-prepared by Mario with Laphroaig 10-Year single-malt Islay scotch, Guignolet de Dijon black cherry liqueur, Carpano Antica Formula vermouth, and fresh orange juice. The construction and balance of the drink was unlike anything else I’d ever experienced from a Blood and Sand and I quickly realized I was in for a long, luxurious evening of cocktail mastery. Yeah, uh-oh.

The drinks started coming hard and fast, and we began passing Mario’s masterpieces up and down the length of the bar. There was a Straits Sling with gin, Benedictine, eau de cerises, lemon, Bitter Truth bitters and soda. The Contessa was nearly identical to a Late-Summer Negroni Variation we’ve been doing at Bel Ami, with gin, Aperol and Carpano Rosso vermouth. I braced myself for more, feeling smug that I’d opted for the steak at dinner.

Once we began to settle in, the ante was upped yet again. First was Robert Hess’ Trident cocktail, made with Drei Ling, a rye/wheat/spelt aquavit, Cynar, sherry and Fee Brothers’ Peach Bitters. Then came the Green Fly: gin, lemon and green Chartreuse finished with a few drops of orange blossom water.

Mario then gave us a short respite with a perfectly-executed Martin Miller’s Westbourne Strength gimlet made with fresh juice that was simply about balance and showcasing the gin, and the now-famous Gin Red Basil Smash that has been appearing on cocktail menus all over Germany this summer.

At this point, Jörg came around to check on us, and offered us a tour of another bar they keep relatively quiet about, an elegantly-appointed little concept bar that was the birthplace of both Le Lion and the Traveling Mixologists. We followed him there and soon fell into a deep trance as he regaled us with the history of this exclusive little four-seater bar and applauded when he produced a round of Richmond Gimlets for the group.

Back at Le Lion, the hour was getting late, but there was no way I was going to leave without trying one of Mario’s creations - and a new favorite for myself - the Professor Langnickel. Made with kirsch, Pedro Ximenez, Guignolet Cerise, a lemon twist and Maraska cherry garnish, it was rich, sophisticated, balanced, and reminiscent of a classic cocktail, like a Manhattan without the wood and spice.

With my head swimming from the dizzying array of world-class cocktails at Le Lion, it was soon time for me to step out into the chilly Hamburg night and bid farewell to my hosts. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, do yourself a favor and stop in for a drink at Le Lion - the finest bar I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting and a new inspiration for me. And thank you, Jörg, Mario and Gonçalo. I hope to see all of you again very soon.

I’ve put together a transcript of my presentation at the BCB as well as all of the slides I used, especially for those of you whose first language is not English. I had a great time presenting and sincerely hope I can do it again next year!

Click here to continue reading »

I greeted the evening with a late-night invitation to the Beefeater party at Maxim, a huge club here in Berlin. I wasn’t able to make it to the party, unfortunately, but I’ll promise a reasonable explanation - along with a definition of the term “Irish Goodbye” as an answer to the obvious question.

Click here to continue reading »

In an amazing display of organization and efficiency, the gorgeous Bar Convent Berlin (Berlin Bar Convention) started this morning. Since I had the rare wisdom to leave early last night, I was able to be there for the first presentation of the day, Cachaça: The Soul of Brazil, presented by the brilliant Jared Brown and Anastasia Miller, with my good friend John Gakuru, global brand ambassador for Sagatiba Cachaça.

I’d picked up their book, The Soul of Brazil when I was at Tales of the Cocktail this summer, and have been savoring every deliciously historical fact this summer - so I was quite excited to be able to sit in a room and learn more about one of my favorite spirits this morning.

Click here to continue reading »

I have to be up and running around the BCB tomorrow morning, so this post promises to be an exercise in efficiency, and while my last name belies this, I fear that it won’t be the German type.

So, here we go:

1. I begin my day at a restaurant recommended to me by Helmut Adam, where - thanks to my severe language deficiency - I mistakenly order a non-alcoholic beer with lunch.

2. I take a lovely stroll through West Berlin and see some non-bar-trade-related sights. There are a lot of German Shepherds going for walksies in Berlin. I think they just call them “Shepherds” here.

3. I walk back over the river to West Berlin for a social at Mixology headquarters. I don’t know why I was surprised to see a big, beautiful bar situated in the office of a huge bartending magazine, but I was.

4. I have a run-in with Jay Hepburn. Again.

5. Jay and I discover the Mixology liquor closet. Jay is much more amenable when surrounded by 2,000 of his closest friends.

6. The gregarious Phillip Duff pours us into a cab and takes us to Reingold for an amazing party hosted by the Traveling Mixologists. Jörg Meyer is spotted on many sides of the bar.

7. Simon Difford confides in me that he has a Google Alert for his name. I make a mental note to mention him in every future blog post in order to force him to read this site.

8. Rag-tag group piles into yet another cab and finds a hotel bar.

9. Things start getting fuzzy.

10. Rag-tag group walks a mile to a bar that Difford wants to check out for his upcoming bar guide.

11. Bar is closed.

12. Group attempts to find other bar. For Difford’s bar guide.

13. Jeff hails cab and sneaks back to hotel. Few notice.

There’s just something about rolling into a city at noon, after a solid eighteen hours of travel time that just screams “It’s going to be a late night”. So, after a nap and some real German sausages for dinner, it was time to meet up with Helmut Adam and Simon Difford for what I can only imagine will be the first of many Berlin bar crawls this week.

Click here to continue reading »