I can generally behave myself on beer, and
wine if there isn’t bubbles involved.
Gin, however, lends an air of invincibility. Invincibility followed by waves of death in the
morning. One particularly infamous
New Year’s Eve, after drinking a bottle of champagne, I ushered out the
evening with an extra dry gin martini.
Except the bar was out of olives and cocktail glasses, so technically I drank
a glass of gin. What
happened next is what one might call a broach, in sailing terms. I quickly found myself in danger of
capsizing, crisscrossing to “Come Fly with Me” and clinging to anything
semi-stationary.
Some 2 AM scrambled eggs and cheese
helped. But I’ve certainly had
Saturday mornings that were more pleasant. I suppose we shouldn’t cast champagne
as innocent in this tale, but that is not the point of the story.
I mention all of this because I drank a gin
fizz on Friday night. A rhubarb
Ramos gin fizz. Except I forgot to
add soda water. So technically it
was a rhubarb Ramos gin. No
matter. I’m prone to a jettison of classic cocktail elements.
I followed it with pasta carbonara. Partly because I had a leftover yolk to
use. And partly because, in my
twenties, I may have formed an unbreakable bond between gin and eggs. Not to say things got all slant-y Sinatra. For one, I know the limits of my
thirty-something liver. For two, I
was in my bathrobe.
This might be my new
favorite way to drink gin (the bathrobe is optional, but encouraged). I had to share it, immediately. It's frothy, and tart, and behaves a bit like a well-balanced spring creamsicle. Which I say with trepidation, because I
don’t want to give the impression we’ve sugarcoated a classic.
It is flower petal pink, for certain. But also a breath of fresh air in
the booze department. Dare I say
something even a gin-hater could love.
Which usually turns gin-lovers off, but I assure this cocktail will win
most rational—and nearly all irrational—drinkers over.
Despite the name, and its appearance, it’s
not incredibly difficult to make.
It just doesn’t take well to impulse. You’ll need cold rhubarb syrup, for one. And also the cocktail accoutrement of a
well-seasoned drinker. But the
result is something a Bogart heroine could love.
Sure, a martini still has its place. But mostly when I want to hate myself
in the morning.
Rhubarb Rose Ramos Gin Fizz
Adapted from Food52
Ingredients:
for the rhubarb syrup
1 pound rhubarb stalks, cut into 1-inch
pieces
1 cup sugar
1-inch piece of peeled ginger root
pinch of salt
for the cocktail
2 ounces gin
½ ounce lemon juice
½ ounce lime juice
2 ounces rhubarb syrup
1 ounce half and half
2 drops of rose water
1 egg white
Instructions:
In a medium saucepan, place the rhubarb
pieces, sugar, ginger, salt, and 2 cups of water. Simmer on medium heat, stirring occasionally. (Reduce the heat if the liquid comes to
a vigorous boil.) Cook about 35
minutes, or until the liquid reduces to slightly more than half and turns deep
pink. Strain out the rhubarb pulp
using a mesh strainer; save for another use. Chill the
syrup.
In a cocktail shaker, combine all ingredients
and shake vigorously for 30 seconds.
Add 4 or 5 ice cubes and shake for another 30 seconds. Strain into a cocktail glass.
Makes 1 cocktail
Notes:
-As is de
rigueur with gin fizzes, the recipe originally called for soda water. Which is optional here. I’d start with an ounce,
if you are adding it. I should also
note I used half and half in place of heavy cream (simply because I always have it for
my coffee). I suspect this helped
to cut down on the thickness of the drink a bit, much like the soda water
would. (Add the soda water after
you shake and strain the cocktail.)
-Gin fizz recipes often call for orange
blossom water. This one uses rose instead,
which lends a subtle, soft perfume that I absolutely loved.
-The rhubarb pulp would be great on top of
yogurt.
