Welcome To Wonkette Happy Hour, With This Week’s Cocktail, The Manhattan!

A moment of calm in a glass.

Civilization in a glass. I’d forgotten what civilization looked like.

Greetings, Wonketeers! I’m Hooper, your bartender. Damn. It’s been a hella week, hasn’t it? I considered writing some dish-soap blue concoction and calling it a “Blue Wave”; I really did. But after a week filled with adrenaline, joy, and hope for the future, I thought it would be good to take a deep breath and drink something classic. Something sippable, refined, civilized. A foundation for reading the news with smug Schadenfreude, or for cleaning off the table and planning for the future. Both are fine. Take a deep breath. Enjoy the cold night and the warm fire. Let’s sip a Manhattan together.

Manhattan

2 oz Sazerac rye

1 oz Dolin sweet vermouth

2 shakes Angostura bitters

Add all ingredients to a mixing vessel over ice. Stir gently for 10 seconds, keeping the ice silent as you stir. Place a single Luxardo cherry into a chilled Nick and Nora glass. Strain the cocktail into the glass.

I circle back to this cocktail when I’m looking back on my career. I pull it out in emergencies when the Wonketariat is screaming at each other after bad news hits. I’ve made it in greasy country clubs, pretentious lobster joints, homey dive bars, and Hemingway’s. It isn’t my favorite cocktail, but it is my touchstone, the one I go to when I need a moment to reset and think. Sometimes I need this drink — not for the alcohol, but because of how it makes me feel. And I need this drink now, when I dare to let my cynicism fall away, and I start to hope again.

It doesn’t hurt that this drink is hella strong. A Manhattan is fundamentally a Martini — booze, vermouth, and maybe a dash of bitters. Ray’s, an unabashedly kitschy bar in Manhattan, started to sell Manhattans as “boy Martinis” back in May, and drinkers cheerfully adopted the moniker. It’s slowly dawning on customers that alcohol has no gender; drink strong drinks when you want them, drink fruity drinks when you want them, and don’t judge someone else’s glass. I see dates sharing espresso martinis; I see women who’ve toured the Bourbon Trail in Kentucky ordering Old Fashioneds; I see men order Cosmopolitans on the first date. Drink what you like. I’ll only judge you by the size of your tip.

I firmly believe that this is a rye whiskey drink, not a bourbon drink. I’m not much of a bourbon fan these days; I’ve seen an endless parade of country clubbers walk into the liquor store and beg for a bottle of Eagle Rare, Buffalo Trace, or EH Taylor. It all tastes the same, folks. It’s 51 percent corn, aged in charred oak barrels. It’s smooth, it’s sweet, it’s mellow, it’s boring. Rye whiskey has a lot more pep. I’ve written this drink with Rittenhouse Rye before. Rittenhouse is 100 proof, dark, and full of aggressive spice. I use it in Manhattans when I need folks to settle down and reflect. I came back from Tales of the Cocktail in NOLA with an abiding love for Sazerac rye, so I’m using it here. It’s a little more restrained than Rittenhouse, but it still reminds you that you’re here for the booze.

Some sweet vermouths are mediocre. Some are amazing. Dolin is the middle of the road. Don’t get too hung up on your choice of vermouth; a Manhattan made with Gallo sweet vermouth is still a Manhattan, and it’s still tasty. Just keep it in the fridge and out of your liquor cabinet. It’ll turn brown and nasty.

This basic recipe — 2 oz dark spirit, 1 oz flavorful low-proof spirit, 2 shakes of bitters — has a ton of play built into it. Every good craft bartender I know has their own “Black Manhattan” recipe in their back pocket, a play on theme that’s invariably better than the original. Mine uses 2 ounces of rye, half an ounce each of Benedictine and amaro, and two dashes of Turkish Tobacco bitters. It’s herbal, dry, and complex. I love it. But I’ll always come back to the original Manhattan when I need to stop, and breathe, and think.

Let’s talk ingredients.

Looks like home.

Rye whiskey: No judgment. Use what you like. If you want to use bourbon, use that too. Scotch? Why, that’s a Rob Roy, my good sir, and it’s a fine choice for your evening. Dark rum? Not the card I’d play, but why not? Anejo tequila? Go for it. But it needs to be a barrel-aged spirit, something that’s had a chance to sit and reflect for a few years. A Manhattan made with gin or vodka is … well. A Martini.

Sweet vermouth: This is the blank that you can fill with just about anything flavorful when making “your” Manhattan. I’ve used port, I’ve used sherry, I’ve used whatever random bottles struck my fancy behind the bar. In an emergency, I’d settle for some cheap, sweet dessert wine. Make the drink you like.

Angostura Bitters: Angostura bitters are the default choice of bitters behind the bar. That doesn’t make them a bad choice, or even a lazy one. Angostura’s baking-spice notes play beautifully with rye and vermouth. But feel free to play. Plum bitters exist, and they are wonderfully tart and jammy. Smoked cinnamon bitters are also a thing. You have plenty of options.

My home bar is Hemingway’s Underground, the hottest cocktail bar in pretty little Medina, Ohio. I’m behind the stick Wednesday-Saturday, 4-10. Last call’s at midnight. Swing on by, and I’ll make this drink for you… or anything else from our little Happy Hour here at Wonkette. We’ll make it through this together.

OPEN THREAD!