What’s Tony Drinking? Global Cocktails, Shochu, Bourbon, Whiskey and More

Hopelessly Devoted to La Devozione

If you live in Manhattan and you want authentically Italian pasta, get thee hence to La Devozione, owned and operated by the legendary Di Martino family, pasta makers since 1912. If you’re looking for pollo Francese or osso buco or chicken Parmigiana or anything non-pasta, you’re out of luck. But with carbs like these, who needs proteins? Even on the off chance you don’t want a delicious bowl of paccheri or fresine, belly up to the bar for some of the best cocktails in town, courtesy of bar manager Cristhian Rodriguez and his crackerjack crew. I’ve had a few drinks there, and my favorite is the Di Martini, a ridiculously tasty take on the classic with Italian gin (Marconi 42, to be precise), dry and blanc vermouth, a touch of fino sherry, and a killer garnish of cherry tomatoes and, for the season, pickled strawberries. And there’s plenty of it — it comes with quite an ample sidecar in a small bowl of ice. One of them could take you through dinner, but you’ll want to sample the menu as liberally as your liver will allow.

Dipping My Toe Into Shochu (Not Literally)

I love shochu, the Japanese distilled spirit that is NOT to be confused with Korean soju, but I don’t know all that much about it. Lucky me, I got to have a one-on-one primer with the man who literally wrote the book on shochu, Christopher Pellegrini (book available here, among other places). Chris is working with Honkaku Spirits, which makes an array of shochus distilled from barley, sweet potatoes, rice, and sugar — shocchu can be, and is, distilled from a whole lot of stuff. My favorites, Selephant and Kana, are both distilled from kokuto sugar. They both have a lightly sweet, grassy flavor that reminded me a little of rhum agricole. Honkaku also makes an 8 year old koji-fermented whisky, Takamine — the first one made since the late 1800s (koji is the mold grown on rice that’s also used to ferment shochu and sake). It’s clean, a little sweet, and completely delightful. One session isn’t nearly enough to get a handle on shochu or koi-fermented spirits in general, but I’m glad to dip my toe in this particular boozy water every now and then.

Drinking a Pair of Old Elks

Greg Metze isn’t a household name, but if you drink whiskey (and if you don’t drink whiskey, why are you reading this?), you’ve most likely had something he’s had a hand in making. Metze was the master distiller at the MGP distillery in Lawrenceburg, Indiana, where a good chunk of the “craft” bourbons and ryes with entertaining and unverified backstories are actually made. They also make the whiskey that goes into the bottles of big-time brands like Angel’s Envy and Bulleit (the rye, in both cases). Metze left MGP several years ago to do his own thing with a startup, the Old Elk Distillery in Ft. Collins, Colorado. Their entire line is worth trying — even their bourbon creme, much as it pains me to say it — and the wheat whiskey (different from a wheated bourbon in that the dominant grain is wheat, not corn) is one of the best I’ve tried. I got to taste two new Old Elk blends on the old Zoom machine with Mr. Metze: the Double Wheat (a combo of the wheat whiskey and their wheated bourbon) is elegant, with a light sweetness from the corn and a surprisingly gentle spice given its 107.1 proof. The Four Grain Bourbon (corn, rye, wheat, and malted barley, in case you’re wondering) is a blend of the wheated bourbon and Old Elk’s High-Malt Bourbon. Bottled at a muscular 105.9 proof, it’s a beautifully balanced blend, with a little rye spice standing out amidst the sweetness of the corn and the creaminess of the wheat. I’d say go for the wheat whiskey first, but since Double Wheat and Four Grain Bourbon are limited annual releases… hell, buy all three. Your wallet won’t thank me, but your soul and taste buds will.

The Return of El Quijote… And Beachbum Berry

Last summer I hung out with What’s Tony Drinking regular Philip Duff and Jeff Beachbum Berry (who owns one of the world’s great tiki bars, Latitude 29 in New Orleans), and survived what turned out to be a nine-hour bender involving a decommissioned warship, several bars, and more drinks than I can remember. Mr. Beachbum was back in town recently, and while this hang wasn’t quite as extended, it was perhaps even more amazing drinks-wise. Our first stop was the newly-reopened, much-beloved El Quijote in Chelsea (it’s in the Hotel Chelsea, in fact). It’s been an NYC fixture since 1930, but it closed for a few years for renovations. It’s smaller now, but the vibe is essentially the same, if a little less run down. I don’t remember drinking anything but sangria there in the olden times, but the cocktail program now is spectacular, based on the couple of drinks I tried, including a truly magnificent El Presidente. Next time (assuming I can ever score a table) I’m staying for their signature paella… and maybe a sangria for old time’s sake.

Masala Whiskey and More At Junoon

But we couldn’t stay because we (well, Philip really, but Mr. Berry and I tagged along) were due at Junoon, one of Manhattan’s swankiest and most creative Indian restaurants, for a sampling of their cocktail program, helmed by drinks visionary Hemant Pathak. His Flight To India is a trio of exquisitely prepared cocktails featuring Indian spirits (plus Philip’s Old Duff Genever, of course) and spices, as well as house-made ingredients, including an amazing masala syrup. And the presentation, on a bespoke golden tray, is almost as beautiful as the drinks themselves.

My extravaganza with Messrs. Duff and Berry didn’t last nine hours this time around, and maybe that’s a good thing — but the next time Jeff is in town, I’ll be ready for a boozy marathon just in case.

It’s All About the Kami Awa

My liver has only so much bandwidth, and I prefer to save it for distilled spirits. But when the situation arises, I can ingest the weaker stuff — usually amari or liqueur, but on occasion beer and wine too. And two occasions recently called for them. The first was the American introduction of Suntory’s The Premium Malt’s (sic) pilsner, hosted by Suntory Draft Master (sic) Hiroshi Ohno, whose mission was to spread the gospel about the importance of foam — or as he calls it, kami awa, or “creamy foam.” Getting that 7/3 ratio of beer to foam (foamier than a traditional American glass of suds) is so important that they’ve developed a special glass and a special draught tap to ensure the right amount, and the right consistency (creamy!), of foam.

When done correctly, the foam lasts for a ridiculously long time, bouncing back with every sip and helping to lock in the aroma, flavor, and carbonation of the beer beneath. I’m still not a beer drinker, but a glass of the stuff with a swanky lunch at The Modern (where the rollout took place) was very pleasant indeed.

I Don’t Usually Drink Wine, But When I Do….

Before I became a spirits writer, I toyed with the idea of writing about wine, since at the time spirits and cocktail writing was the tiniest of niche fields. Eventually, I came to the inescapable conclusion that even the best wine just doesn’t thrill me the way the hard stuff does. But I accumulated a handful of really nice bottles, most of which have sat in my small wine fridge for years, if not decades. One of the best was a 1995 Chateau Lafite Rothschild, on which I’d blown a few hundred bucks when it was first released. The wife and I had been waiting for the right occasion to open it, and the right occasion finally presented itself when (apologies in advance for gratuitous parental bragging) our daughter landed a plum role in her first feature film — the first of many, we hope. Over a swanky steak dinner, we toasted her success… and did NOT let her taste it, in large part because she didn’t want to. I don’t know if she would have appreciated it anyway. But we sure did. Bordeaux wines have a reputation for being dry and austere, and this was by no means a fruit bomb. But even if it wasn’t a party animal of a wine on the floor doing the electric slide, it still could do an elegant and sexy cha-cha, with a restrained, mellow fruitiness that balanced out the tannins beautifully. (You see why I didn’t become a wine writer?).