Lesley Solmonson
Books
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The original recreational spirit, liqueurs traveled the Silk Road, awaited travelers at the Fountain of Youth, and traversed the globe from ancient times through the industrial revolution and beyond. In this thrilling exploration of liqueur’s global history, Lesley Jacobs Solmonson describes how a bitter, medicinal elixir distilled by early alchemists developed into a sugar- and spice-fueled luxury for the rich before garnishing a variety of cocktails the world over. The book invites readers on a multi-faceted journey through culinary history, driven by humanity’s ages-long desire for pleasure.
It’s a system, a tool kit, a recipe book. Beginning with one irresistible idea – a complete home bar of just 12 key bottles – here’s how to make more than 200 classic and unique mixed drinks, including sours, slings, toddies, and highballs, plus the perfect Martini, the perfect Manhattan, and the perfect Mint Julep. It’s a surprising guide--tequila didn’t make the cut, and neither did bourbon, but genever did. And it’s a literate guide--describing with great liveliness everything from the importance of vermouth and bitters (the “salt and pepper” of mixology) to the story of a punch bowl so big it was stirred by a boy in a row boat.
Every spirit – be it gin, whiskey, rum, or brandy – has a tale to tell. Gin’s story is rife with contradiction. It has been the drink of both kings and commoners. It inspired the first modern drug craze in eighteenth century London, yet London Dry gin went on to become the embodiment of sophistication in the dry Martini. In America, it was both savior and demon – a medicinal aide in the original ‘Cocktail’ and a pariah during Prohibition. And, while gin is enshrined in modern bar culture, it still battles the remnants of a negative reputation as seen in expressions like ‘gin-mills’, ‘gin-soaked’, and ‘gin- joints’. Of all the spirits, gin is quite possibly the most beloved and the most berated. Those who enjoy the juniper-based liquor often drink it to the exclusion of all others. Those who favour a different poison loudly decry gin’s charms, claiming that, as one poetic barfly pronounced, ‘gin tastes like Christmas trees smell.’ To some extent, that piney character is gin’s defining glory and its inevitable curse. (From the Introduction)