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Embury was the first true cocktailian of the modern age, and he took time to analyze the components of a cocktail, breaking them down into a base (usually a spirit, it must be at least 50 percent of the drink); a modifying, smoothing, or aromatizing agent, such as vermouth, bitters, fruit juice, sugar, cream, or eggs; and âadditional special flavoring and coloring ingredients,â which he defined as liqueurs and nonalcoholic fruit syrups.
Embury taught us that the Ramos Gin Fizz must be shaken for at least five minutes in order to achieve the proper silky consistency, suggested that Peychaudâs bitters be used in the Rob Roy, and noted that âfor cocktails, such as the Side Car, a three-star cognac is entirely adequate, although a ten-year-old cognac will produce a better drink.â
In the second edition of his book, Embury mentioned that he had been criticized for omitting two drinks from his original work: the Bloody Mary, which he described as âstrictly vile,â and the Moscow Mule, as âmerely mediocre.â
On the subject of Martinis, he explained that although most cocktail books call for the drink to be made with one-third to one-half vermouth, âquite recently, in violent protest of this wishy-washy type of cocktail, there has sprung up the vermouth-rinse method of making Martinis.â He describes a drink made from chilled gin in a cocktail glass coated in vermouth. Embury didnât approve of either version, and went on to say that a ratio of seven parts gin to one part vermouth was his personal favorite.
While Embury was taking his drinking seriously, many Americans were quaffing Martinis by the pitcher, and Playboy magazine commissioned cocktail maven Thomas Mario and, later, Emanuel Greenberg to deliver cocktail news to a nation of people who drank for fun, and did it on a regular basis. Esquire magazine issued its Handbook for Hosts as early as 1949, detailing drinks such as the Sloe Gin Fizz, the Pan American, the âI Died Game, Boysâ Mixture, and the Ginsicleâgin with fruit juice or simple syrup poured over chipped ice in a champagne glass. A cartoon in the book depicts a frustrated bartender mopping his fevered brow and exclaiming, âShe ordered it because it had a cute name.â
The world of cocktails was tilting slightly on its axis, and liquor companies lobbied long and hard to get into the act. In the fifties, Southern Comfort convinced us to make Comfort Manhattans and Comfort Old-Fashioneds by issuing a booklet: How to Make the 32 Most Popular Drinks.
By the seventies, when the Comfort Manhattan had become the Improved Manhattan, they were bringing us Happy Hour Mixology Plus a Primer of Happy Hour Astrology, presumably so we would have something to talk about at bars: âOh, youâre a Virgoâdiscriminating, keenly analytical, exacting, and often a perfectionist. Wanna drink?
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Gary Regan (The Joy of Mixology: The Consummate Guide to the Bartender's Craft, Revised & Updated Edition)