
What good is it to write occasionally about [classic] mixed drinks for my own edification and enjoyment (until someone someday finds this site; googling "Angostura is awesome" is a start) if I can't be predictable? I'm sorry, but any blog that begins its run with words like "Sazerac" and "Martini" must inevitably trip over the word "Manhattan" somewhere before its exhausted collapse.
The Manhattan has, through its lifetime, been the least controversial of the big classics. It hasn't been essentially wiped off the map like the Old Fashioned; it has never become associated too closely with one place to be really famous, like the Sazerac; it has never been completely butchered by Winston Churchill and admirers, James Bond, or a legion of Sex in the City-inspired women like the poor Martini has. The Manhattan has managed to remain largely untouched by prohibition and forgetfulness, always simmering but never boiling over.
It's as simple to make as a good Martini (easy to learn, difficult to master), if even easier due to the availability of ingredients. And like any great cocktail, small changes in the ingredients give it life and vitality (not the one you're drinking right now, but the Manhattan population as a whole):
- Add in a shaker
- 2 parts whiskey (Rye is drier and spicier, bourbon smoother and sweeter. Don't be a sissy; use rye.)
- 1 part vermouth
- one or two dashes aromatic bitters
- ice
- Stir the ingredients thirty times (I swirl, which ain't the best, but DO NOT SHAKE)
- Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.
- Garnish with a cherry. Has the cherry been soaked in brandy, or maraschino liqueur, or kirsch? Cuz that makes the drink that much better. Avoid those jars of maraschino cherries, though; they taste like sugar and sugar alone.
Because the Manhattan is essentially the same thing as the Martini, only with a different base spirit, the nuances of the method evince some similarities, as does the relevant jargon. Most Manhattans will be served with Italian, or sweet, vermouth. If you switch that with French, or dry, vermouth, it is a Dry Manhattan. You can also make a Perfect Manhattan by mixing 1/2 sweet vermouth and 1/2 dry vermouth. Orange bitters can be used as well, though I can't think of anything preferable to a single dash of Angostura aromatic bitters. Beware: more than one dash can make the drink taste like a glass full of cloves.
Like the Martini, a Manhattan ceases to be when it's base spirit (and primary ingredient) changes. Vodka makes Martinis Kangaroos. Rye or Bourbon whiskey makes them Manhattans (and vice versa on this level playing field). Switching to Irish whiskey creates a Chelsea, to Scotch, a Rob Roy. Make it with brandy and it's a Harvard. Would you ever ask for something called a "Harvard"? I sure wouldn't.
The flip-side of this affinity with the Martini is that, though the Manhattan had remained largely unadulterated while the Martini suffered through vodka or an ever-increasing need to dry it out--any bartender should still today know how to make a Manhattan that is completely classic--even such exemplary endurance can take a big hit these days. I hear horror stories about Manhattans being made with cherry juice or Kahlua or God-knows-what-else. Again, I must assume it is the yuppie hordes that are bastardizing this survivor, kicking it in its old age.
But anyway, the Manhattan rules. Make it right and it is the best cocktail. Did I just say that?
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