A Ballsy Tale: The Monkey Gland Cocktail

Weeks ago, I wandered over to my favorite watering hole – a bar with Old World ambiance, that served mainly classic cocktails from the 1920s and 30s. Many of my faves were there, along with others I’ve never heard of, but planned to try. Including this…Monkey Gland!

With a name like that, how could you NOT want to order it, am I right?? I had a feeling it had one helluva backstory.

The Backstory

Early on in his career, Dr. Serge Voronoff transplanted organs, tissue and bones from younger horses and sheep into older ones. He believed cells from the younger beasts would re-invigorate the older animals. He also experimented with transplanting monkey thyroid glands into humans, to help them overcome thyroid deficiencies.

The idea being that monkeys shared enough biological similarities to humans, as required for transplants. He did monkey-to-human thyroid transplant on a young French “idiot”, and claimed that the boy’s mental faculties returned to normal in about a year, as a result of the new gland.

Next, Dr. Voronoff focused on the impact of testicles. According to his book “Life: a Study of the Means of Restoring Vital Energy and Prolonging Life” (available on Amazon.com), the sex gland “stimulates cerebral activity as well as muscular energy” as it “pours into the stream of the blood a species of vital fluid which restores the energy of all the cells, and spreads happiness.”

He started transplanting the testicles of executed criminals into millionaires. However, there were more rich men who wanted the testicles than there were dead criminals to supply them.

So he used monkey testicle tissue instead.

The testicle grafting became so popular that a special reserve was set up in Africa just for capturing and holding monkeys for gland transfers. He was paid a small fortune for each surgery he performed.

As the men who received the grafts got older, they noticed the rejuvenation effects disappearing. Eventually, so did Dr. Voronoff’s credibility and career.

And now… the cocktail!

Disclaimer:
No monkey parts were harmed in the making of this beverage.

The Monkey Gland
Courtesy of the Spruce Eats

1 dash absinthe
2 ounces gin
1 ounce freshly squeezed orange juice
1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons grenadine, to taste
Orange slice, or flamed orange peel, for garnish

Swirl a dash of absinthe in a chilled cocktail glass to coat it, then discard any excess liqueur.

In a cocktail shaker filled with ice cubes, pour the gin, orange juice, and grenadine.

Shake well.

Strain into the prepared glass.

Garnish with an orange slice or a flamed orange peel. Serve and enjoy. Cheers!

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Sources:

https://www.thespruceeats.com/monkey-gland-cocktail-recipe-759322

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serge_Voronoff

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/the-true-story-of-dr-voronoffs-plan-to-use-monkey-testicles-to-make-us-immortal

Photos by pexels

Holiday Spirits: Barrel-Finished Cocktails

I had the genius idea of my ski-buff boyfriend and I staying at a hotel in Park City, Utah, just walking distance from the slopes. While he was playing in the snow, I’d be downtown feeding my wanderlust.

Being a flatlander, I have never been higher than 700 feet above sea level, unless I was on an airplane. Found out the hard way that high altitude sickness was an actual thing. Plus, it was a real b—-!

In a couple of days, the vomiting stopped and headaches were mercifully less frequent. Eventually, the dizziness and shortness of breath eased up, too.

My boyfriend told me that when his parents were in Peru, they were given “cocaine tea” to help with their high altitude sickness. The proper term is “coca tea”, which is coca leaves boiled in water. Note: Chewing the leaves or drinking the tea could get you a positive drug test for cocaine. And yet I would have KILLED to drown my misery in gallons of that stuff from day one!

While exploring downtown Main Street, I wandered over to a side street and found the High West Saloon. Their distillery is a few miles away but, sadly, tours are on hold during these Covid times. At the saloon, they served up their award-winning spirits in a shot glass, in a cocktail, and in their food.

The saloon was a mellow, chill place to grab an appetizer and a very tasty Boulevardier, made with their own American Prairie Bourbon. I liked my cocktail so much, I had to come back the next day. Both times, I forgot to take a pic of the exterior, probably coz I couldn’t wait to get inside. So the screengrab below is from their site.

One of the things I noticed on my way to my table was a “shrine” to their barrel-finished Manhattan.

On their menu, I saw that they featured two cocktails finished in their whiskey barrels – the Manhattan and the Old Fashioned. I’ve only ever seen barrel-aged hard spirits, such as gin or tequila. Plus, one of my favorite whiskeys, Angels Envy, is barrel-finished in port wine casks.

But barrel-finished COCKTAILS? Didn’t know they existed, so I needed to explore this further and deeper!

The next day, I went back to the saloon, scored outdoor seating, and texted my boyfriend to meet me there. While waiting for him to show up, I enjoyed this view from across the street.

There were two barrel-finished cocktails on their menu, so we had to try both. First the Old-Fashioned, then the Manhattan. I preferred the Old-Fashioned. Props for the torched orange peel as a finishing touch! As for my boyfriend, the barrel-finished Manhattan, also very delicious, rocked his world. He bought a bottle at the gift shop to take home.

I gotta say, I am loving the process of aging and finishing hard spirits in barrels recently used for some other liquor! The whiskey barrel finish gave both cocktails added dimensions in their flavor depth, sweetness and aroma. There was an indefinable something; the first word that leaped to my mind was ‘savory’. The next was “extraordinary”.

To anyone visiting Main Street and Park City, Utah, the whiskeys and cocktails at High West Saloon are highly recommended!

Cheers!

Additional sources:
http://www.newperuvian.com/drinking-coca-tea-drug-test-results/
https://www.highwest.com/saloon.php

CORN Vodka?? Hmm…

Last weekend, my man surprised me with a 1.75 liter bottle of vodka, one of those huge bottles with a handle. The vodka came highly recommended by his “spirit” guide at the liquor superstore. I stared at the massive bottle with open skepticism, and said out loud, “This better be good!”

At 40% alcohol and 80 proof, it had respectable stats. Then I twirled the bottle to see:

“Distilled from…CORN”??

Nothing against corn; I’m a huge bourbon fan, and prefer to drink it straight. But vodka, though…what the hell IS this, moonshine??

My eyes instantly narrowed with hostility and suspicion! I’ve tried other vodkas, made from distilled potatoes (Monopolowa) and grapes (Trader Joes, I love ya but come on now!). And I’ve always ended up running back to the waiting, open, comforting arms of grain vodkas.

But…I had to keep an open mind. Corn vodka??
Hmm…

Right above “Crafted in Texas”, the bottle stated on its label that it was “six times distilled”. My first thought was, it’s like traveling around the world, trying out cuisine beyond your comfort level, and finding the answer to the age-old question of “Is anything pretty much edible, if it’s deep fried enough?”

So it was time to set up the testing environment. With The Smith’s “How Soon is Now” playing on my virtual assistant app, I pulled out a slim, sexy shot glass, and started pouring.

The Smell

First I sniffed it. If I got even the smallest whiff of turpentine, or any strong odor at all, it’s going down the drain. But, nope, it smelled clean. Slightly sweet because of the corn, and not at all like rubbing alcohol.

The Taste

Took a large sip, held it in my mouth, and let it slowly trickle down my throat as I breathed in and out. Fairly smooth, with minimal burn (I mean, this is hard liquor after all, not water).

So, yup, turns out this corn vodka is smooth enough to use for 2-3 ingredient cocktails, and smooth enough to drink straight. Okay, I don’t know if all corn-based vodkas are distilled this much to get this smooth, but this one was truly made for easy drinking.

I tip my hat to y’all, Texas!

Small Craft Spirits: Yaletown Distilling Company

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Not that long ago, Yaletown in Vancouver BC was pretty seedy. After telling him I planned to spend a day wandering over there, one of my street-savvy cousins rattled off areas to avoid, due to drug activity, prostitution, etc.

“Just stay away from Main.”
“And stay out of East Hastings.”
“Careful, that place is drug central and a sketchy area.”

I wandered around Yaletown on a warm, sunny Friday afternoon, and saw no disreputable activity anywhere. Turns out, this once sketchy area is now a charmingly gentrified little berg with loads of hip, trendy perks – restaurants and bars (with patios!), cafes, shops, galleries, plus upscale apartments and condos.

 

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Not surprisingly, a handcrafted distillery is part of that mix. Seeing their premium spirits creation machines from the sidewalk through huge glass windows, I just had to wander in and pay my respects to Yaletown Distilling Company.

 

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Camera-shy Craig, the distillery manager, hooked me up with a couple of shots in their tasting room. The refreshing mandarin-infused vodka had good flavor definition. And the honey-infused vodka was luscious, smooth, and not at all syrupy. It was so good, I ordered another shot.

 

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Tariq, the distiller, was checking on equipment before a company field trip was scheduled this evening for a tour of one of the world’s top 10 distillery bars, according to The Spirits Business magazine. Number one rule before the tour begins: Don’t touch anything!

 

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The beauty of small craft spirits distilleries is they can focus on quality, not quantity.
For now.
With rapid growth driven my millenials’ preference for craft liquor made by small local distilleries, the new challenge is maintaining authenticity while mass producing to meet increasing demand.

 

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Unfortunately, Yaletown Distillery only sells their wares within the Canadian borders. But it’s just one more reason to keep coming to this amazing city – to discover and experience cool neighborhoods, with its delights, surprises, and liquid bliss. Cheers, guys!

 

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Martini Mixology: The Classic Martini

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The movie “A Simple Favor” came out in theaters last month (I won’t tell you how many times I’ve seen it so far). Just as fascinating as watching two lovely ladies sipping classic gin martinis in a film noir was a mixology lesson from the gorgeous villainness herself.

 

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Turns out, femme fatales, especially the psychopathic ones, make their own rules, even when it comes to making martinis.

 

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As for you hardcore, no-messin’-around martini aficionados out there, master mixologist and Liquor.com adviser Simon Ford shows you how he makes the classic martini, which he calls “The greatest cocktail on Earth”.

Click the image to watch the man in action!

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If you want to try this at home, I’ve listed the ingredients below. Remember to always start with a chilled martini glass and/or ice cold gin. Cheers!

The Classic Martini

2.5 oz Gin
.5 oz Dry vermouth
1 dash Orange bitters (optional)

Garnish: Lemon twist or green olives without pimentos

 

 

 


Images are still shots from the youtube.com videos for:

  • How to Make a Martini Cocktail – Liquor.com
  • A Simple Favor (2018) – Regal Exclusive – The Perfect Martini

 

 

You never forget your first time: A hard cider tale

One sultry Saturday evening, my besty and his partner invited me to join them on a neighborhood crawl. It was impossible to resist: summer, Saturday night, and a trendy ‘hood filled with quirky stuff/people – a winning trifecta I just couldn’t turn down.

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I met D and G at their charming little downtown studio, conveniently located just a couple of blocks from hipster central. We were all hugs and chatter about shops and bars to check out that night. There were a couple of places on our radar, but the rest of the evening was wide open.

 

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We bounced around like pinball triplets – an antiques store here, until we dashed over there to the chocolates specialty store, pondered a visit to the palm reader, went around the corner for adult costumes, which was near an exotic tea shop, next door to a place with soaps that looked and smelled good enough to eat, etc.

 

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It was about 8 or 9 pm when we stopped at a pub for some refreshment before we continued exploring. The pub aspired to be unpretentious (which you can’t really be with such a strong hipster vibe), with lots of wood and brick, family-style dining tables, speakers playing random music genres, and a really friendly, young, tattooed/pierced wait staff. We went straight to the drinks menu, to get the really important choices out of the way, before considering any after-thoughts, like food.

 

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By the way, this was years ago, before I was fully immersed and versed in the craft cocktail scene, and definitely long before I knew my limitations. D ordered a pint of their hard cider, and G decided on a crisp lager to cool off with on this humid summer night. Being new to the art of imbibing in boozey beverages, I played it safe and ordered a glass of dry white wine. When our order arrived, I kept eyeballing the others’ drinks. Such beautiful amber colors! G let me try his lager, which was refreshing and light, with a tiny bit of hopsey bite. D let me try his hard cider, and I couldn’t give it back.

 

thehipbar

 

I have never had hard cider before. D tried to explain the cider-making process, but I was too distracted to really listen. He may have also mentioned that it was pretty potent. But all my brain could hear was “MMMM it’s like…apple juice! But better! How can a process, with a few steps more or less here and there, end up producing either apple cider, apple cider vinegar or hard cider? Genius!” The hard cider was delicious, fresh, not too sweet, and lovely to look at. So golden. I just couldn’t put it down. It was like apple juice, but better, and with a kick! Realizing he wasn’t getting his hard cider back, D ordered another one.

 

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Did I mention we forgot to order food? Hard cider on an empty stomach. Naturally, you know what comes next.

It’s funny how the booze gently flows into your bloodstream before sucker punching your brain. I recalled a quote from Jack Kerouac’s book “Dharma Bums”:

“The first sip is joy, the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy.” He was talking about sipping tea, but it sort of outlined my stages of hard cider discovery:

1 – What is this tasty, amazing drink? MMMM
2 – I’ve discovered a new thing and it’s wonderful!
3 – Ahhhh, yessss, so delicious…hard cider….
4 – What?? No! You’re not getting this back!
5 – …

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This is where my brain goes fuzzy, then the room, and everyone in it, gets that weird but wonderful haze around it. Like the lotion-on-the-camera-lens effect in a Star Trek scene when Capt. James T. Kirk notices an attractive female on-board. Cue the flutey seduction music.

G paid the bill, and we walked outside. I felt wonderful and float-y, I decided to do a pirouette I just learned in ballet class, when I suddenly felt a couple of firm hands on both my arms yank me back. Apparently, I almost danced into oncoming traffic.

I was insufferably silly, and D and G were losing patience. They outvoted me and called an end to our evening adventure. Spending the night with two lovely men in their cute downtown studio sounded, well, crowded. D, my wonderful knight in shining armor, decided to drive me home to make sure I got there safely, even though my apartment was just a bus ride away. G stayed behind to, I don’t know, fluff pillows or something.

D decided to take a shortcut through the hills. Unfortunately for me, they were winding hills. I opened the window, thinking the night air would get rid of my nausea. I unbuckled my seat belt. With every turn, the cider splashed around in my stomach, becoming increasingly volatile. And ready to erupt.
Splash. Splash.
And then…OMG.

Suddenly, I grabbed D’s arm and gripped it. Hard. I didn’t even have to say a word; he took one look at my face, panicked, slowed to a stop immediately. But it was too late. I lunged onto the door and shoved my head out the window. In my weakened state, I didn’t have enough lung power to projectile vomit a polite few inches away from the car. So it all slid down the outside of D’s car door in waves, as it gushed out of me. Wow. I hoped the stomach bile/hard cider upchuck wouldn’t take the paint off his car.

 

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The next morning, I couldn’t tell which was worse, my loudly pounding head or my gut-churning nausea. I have never been drunk or hung over before. I prayed for death, but it would not come.
Damn it.
I dragged myself over to Hot Lips Pizza across the street, and forced foccacia bread down my throat, in an attempt to soak up the excess stomach acid (my brother said I’d feel better). I got it all down, and spent several minutes breathing slowly, focusing steadily, using all of my willpower to keep it down. I took some painkillers for my throbbing head, and waited for the food and chemicals to save me.

 

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Never ever again. Oh man, I really think that cider fermented in my stomach overnight and I woke up with a belly full of vinegar. I had plans with D and G later that day. I felt slightly better in a few hours and headed over. G greeted me at the door and couldn’t get the damn shit-eating grin off his face. He and D probably laughed their asses off as they hosed the vomit. I mean, I managed to hold it just long enough to puke on the OUTSIDE of his car, instead of ruining his upholstery! Where’s the gratitude? Come to think of it, where’s the sympathy?? Aren’t they supposed to be my FRIENDS??

D came out of the kitchen with a huge smile, carrying a pitcher and a large glass.
“Cider, anyone?”

 


All pics taken by Alexandria Julaton, except for Star Trek screenshot

Dating Tales with Cocktails: The Bad Touch (Lady Finger Cocktail)

Samantha’s Story

I was at an upscale whiskey lounge one evening with my gal pal Samantha (not her real name), celebrating her recent interview at the Starbucks corporate office. Sure it was an interview, not a job offer (yet), but in this brutal job market, you celebrate every victory, even small ones.

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After studying floor-to-ceiling beverage options, flipping through the whiskey bible and consulting with the bartender, we settled on a fine choice: A shot of Dalwhinnie single malt scotch, followed by another. Diageo’s 15-year-old was a definite crowd-pleaser, with its smoothness, aroma and lingering flavors of honey and peach. It’s no wonder it won a gold medal at the 2015 San Francisco Spirits Competition. A perfect scotch to sip through tales of dating drama.

Sam’s relationship with her man had been pretty stormy lately. I asked if she had a Match or Tinder account yet. “Oh my god, dating SUCKS!”, she replied loud enough to raise eyebrows across the bar. “I still remember how awful the guys were before I met Jason (not his real name), which is why I’ve stuck with him. Seriously, I went on a lot of dates. A LOT! And, oh man, the stories I could tell you!”

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Sam moved from Some Itty Bitty Town, Washington to big sparkly Seattle for grad school. She made a few half-hearted attempts at exploring the city, but still felt awkward not knowing where anything was or anyone to show her around. Tom, who went to the same grad school, had seen Sam wandering around downtown alone a couple of times. Eager for a friend and grateful for his attention, Sam accepted Tom’s invitations to cafes, movie houses and bars – anyplace a couple of dirt-poor grad students could have a good time, for not a lot of money. Plus, Tom was not a bad-looking guy.

After another heavy makeout session at his studio apartment, they decided they wanted to take it to the next level. Sam, with her unusual Russian-European beauty, had been with plenty of men. Plenty. She had a healthy sexual appetite, and was up for just about anything.

But not this.

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“Stick your finger in there,” Tom said, lying naked on top of the sheets with his back to Sam.

“You want me to stick my finger in…” Sam felt she couldn’t finish her sentence, even as she tried to not sound like some blushing naive bumpkin.

He had told her it felt so good, in ways he couldn’t even describe. There are so many nerves clustered in that little area that the pleasure centers are overwhelming, he explained. So not wanting to be a silly spoilsport, she continued to play along, moving her finger to the spot he directed her to. For all her impressive experience with men, she had never rubbed anyone’s prostate gland before. Now if she could only just find the damn thing.

Weird, she thought. What WAS that? Something floating…disturbing texture…she started to pull her finger out. Something dark and squishy was on it! Tom suddenly grabbed her hand and shoved her finger back in. Oh my God, she thought, was that feces?? “EW EW EW!”, her mind screamed even as she rubbed his prostate gland. Since his back was to her, Tom couldn’t see the shock and disgust flitting back and forth on Sam’s face that whole time.

After he had climaxed, Sam told Tom she needed to leave. Something on her research report she realized she had forgotten to add. Sam also decided she needed to get out more and make other friends, since she had no intention of hanging out with Tom ever again.


The Lady Finger Cocktail
(courtesy of absolutdrinks.com)

1 part gin
1 part cherry brandy

Combine, shake with ice, serve neat.