A drink target could involve an objective property of the drink being designed: flavor (spice, citrus, basil), glass-type (cocktail, highball, solo cup), color (red, clear, orange), garnish-use (onion, brussel sprouts, licorice)… really anything that describes some aspect of the drink.

Another drink target could be a concept, feeling, or vibe that the drink should impart.  This type of criteria is trickier because it is inherently more subjective, but it is often my most effective method when mixing for those I know and love the most.  Since I’m a home mixologists, most of my guests are in this category.

As an example of designing a drink by feeling, I have two recipes for the same feeling.  The two recipes are nice because they illustrate differences of interpreting the same mandate, and because one is simple, the other complex.

EE said to me one Thursday, when making omelettes – something she’s very, very good at –  ”I’d like a drink that tastes like herbs, like in Provence.”  Nevermind that neither of us have been to France outside Paris.  I thought I got the idea: fields of lavender, soft skies, not too sweet, not too anything. 

In my head, at least, I saw something like this:

Fields of Provence, with lavender flowertops and soft light, is a good example of a concept or feeling a drink can seek to capture.

The result was the light and relatively simple:  

Flowertops:

Ingredients

1 lavender-infused gin

1/2 Dolin blanc vermouth

1/3 St. Germain’s elderflower liqueur

5 drops lemon bitters

couple leaves of mint

Shake vigorously.  Serve up.  Garnish with a flower, piece of fresh lavender, or any herb you have around (you know, make it pretty).

Unfortunately (but not that unfortunately, as come on, we’re talking about mixology here), this isn’t what EE had in mind.  She refined her request by saying, “No, no, it needs to be red and yellow too!  Like a tablecloth.”  She was thinking of vibrant, Provence-style linens, and of something much more earthy.  Ah!  Got it.  The concept of rich, aromatic soil is a much more challenging flavor, because it is quite complex. 

The Provence-style linens EE was thinking of, to complement her omelettes.

Still Provence, but more earth, and red soil - the Terroir.

The result was a drink that got high marks for meeting the desired target, and for just being a great drink:

Terroir de Provence (Cheesy name, yes, but there are enough ingredients to merit the grandiosity.  As I say, I’ve never been there, so there’s a lot of tongue-in-cheek involved in this whole project):

Ingredients:

1 lavender-infused gin

1/2 sweet vermouth

1/2 St. Germain’s elderflower liqueur

1/3 basil-infused bourbon

1/3 Bols genever

splash of brandy

whisper of dill-infused vodka

a little freshly grated ginger

Stir.  Serve up with an herbal garnish (EE voted for a rosemary sprig).

Two great drinks (Flowertops for me, Terroir for EE) to accompany a simple meal at home. 

Bon apetit.

Pomplamoose (the band) is awesome, as I’ve said previously.  Pomplamoose (the word) is awesome. Say it with me, slowly to appreciate it, Pah-mm-p-la-mmoooooo-ssse.  So fun.  I’m even going to say it again to myself.  Really, thank you France for creating such a cool word for a pretty lame fruit.

I’m OK with grapefruit. I went through a period in college when I ate them every day (I even own grapefruit spoons as a result), but I have never been that enthralled with the flavor – certainly not with the name.  Grapefruits neither taste nor look like grapes.  The world wide web tells me they are so named because they grow in clusters on a tree.  This seems like a poor naming convention, as grapes are also fruits and had claimed the cluster format first.  “Pomplamoose” on the other hand – that is a name that suggests the pithy food that is this strange pummelo-orange hybrid.

Luckily someone else already graphed grapefruit’s place in the world (though I’m not 100% in agreement on all counts):

A Pomplamoose is much cooler than a grapefruit, regardless of taste.

Me being who I am (someone with a mixology hobby, let alone a mixology blog), I decided that I needed to create a drink honoring Pomplamoose (the band) and Pomplamoose (the word), while improving upon Pomplamoose (the fruit).  There are grapefruit bitters commercially available, but I wanted to really taste the fruit in my beverage.  I was also feeling too lazy for the trek to the east side to buy them.  The main problem with really tasting the fruit is that grapefruit juice is pretty unbearable.  I overcame this problem, but it wasn’t cheap or easy.

The Tessin Rinpoche Pomplamoose is heaven:

A Pomplamoose, in one of our set of new (to us) vintage glasses

Ingredients

1 grapefruit juice

1 Bols Genever (other Dutch genever probably works, but British gin won’t)

1/3 Dolin Blanc vermouth (again, sorry, run-of-the-mill vermouth won’t work)

1/4 Agave nectar

1/4 Cointreau

drop absinthe (I mean a smidgeon, barely a drop)

Combine over ice and stir madly.  Do not shake this one – the genever doesn’t like it, the Dolin doesn’t like it, the absinthe doesn’t like it, and the cloudiness just isn’t desirable.  Strain into a cocktail glass.  Garnish with a twist (lemon – the twist is actually more than looks here).

This is a SPECTACULAR aperitif.  It is highly drinkable, yet palate cleansing.  I generally post drinks that most anyone could make easily, but sadly this one is a little less accessible.  There isn’t any strange technique involved, but some of the ingredients are a bit hard to find and they’re expensive when you do.  I’m sorry for that.  That said, these liquids are well worth the time and money.

Besides, you get to say to guests, “would you like a Pah-mm-p-la-mmoooooo-ssse?”

Then you can listen to the band: