Clear as a Bell

These elegant (but electric) digestifs are the perfect pick-me-up, nightcap, and grand finale—all in one glass

BY AMIEL STANEK PHOTOGRAPH BY ISA ZAPATA

Once the dessert forks have been surrendered and everyone swears they couldn’t possibly take even one more bite, a final pour of something special on Thanksgiving just feels right. While I can see the merits of trotting out a bottle of bark-bitter amaro or a mellow bourbon that’s seen a few years in oak, these days I take a different tack. When I want to round out a big meal in style, the choice is clear—a clear spirit, that is. I’m talking about things like eau-de-vie, grappa, mezcal, and clairin. Though these liquors are unique in terms of their geographic origin, composition, and production, they share a brazen character, making them ideal meal-enders. Instead of relying on extensive aging in wood to lend complexity, each spirit tastes unabashedly of the raw materials from which they were distilled and the places where they were made. Heirloom apples. Hand-harvested grapes. Pit-roasted agave. Wild-fermented sugarcane. These idiosyncratic products are as lively and expressive as the day they trickled out of the still; with no time spent in barrels to discipline their rougher edges, flavor has nowhere to hide. And at the end of a rich meal, one sharp sip immediately snaps you back to consciousness, like a cold plunge after a sweaty sauna session.

As is the case with all booze, spirits made with care by small, independent producers are going to be more compelling and often boast a price tag to match. But this is the most special of occasions, after all—when else are you going to break out the good stuff?

CYRIL ZANGS – DOUBLE ZÉRO EAU-DE-VIE DE CIDRE

This bright 100-proof apple brandy is a collaboration between culty Normandy cider maker Cyril Zangs and renowned distillery Calvados Roger Groult. It smells and tastes like a brisk fall stroll through an orchard: ripe fruit, a crisp breeze,

LAURENT CAZOTTES – GOUTTE DE REINE CLAUDE DORÉE

Laurent Cazottes’s eaux-de-vie are the stuff of legend, crafted from small parcels of his own lovingly tended trees and vines. To make this style, Cazottes painstakingly dries and hand-pits greengage plums before fermentation, which yields an extraordinarily concentrated elixir.

CLAIRIN VAVAL RUM

Traditional clairin, perhaps Haiti’s most revered spirit, is rum for mezcal nerds. Made from freshly pressed heritage sugarcane varietals and fermented with no added yeasts, each distillation is a unique expression of terroir. This one, from second-generation producer Fritz Vaval, is sunny and herbaceous, each sip gracefully ping-ponging between delicate flowers and salty funk.

NEAL BODENHEIMER'S OLD HICKORY

Mastering the Old Hickory With Neal Bodenheimer

The obscure vermouth classic gets retooled with an eye toward more flavor and less dilution.

The “raisinated vibe” and wormwood bitterness of La Quintinye Blanc forms one half of the 50/50 vermouth split.

If you’ve never heard of the Old Hickory, you’re not alone. A simple 50/50 mix of sweet and dry vermouths punched up with bitters, this low-proof classic has long existed in the shadow of the Bamboo and Adonis. Neal Bodenheimer wants to put it center stage.

Though he started workshopping the drink at his New Orleans bar Cure, he “really dug in,” as he describes the process, on the Old Hickory for Dauphine’s, a New Orleans–inspired bar and seafood restaurant slated to open this spring in Washington, D.C.. “It felt modern, and like things I wanted to drink,” he explains of the simple build. However, “it felt like a cocktail that never really got its due.”

Part of the New Orleans canon of cocktails, the Old Hickory first appeared in print in Stanley Clisby Arthur’s 1937 book, Famous New Orleans Drinks And How to Mix ’Em. Supposedly, “Old Hickory” was a nickname given to General (and later U.S. president) Andrew Jackson, a reference to his fortitude as he led troops through the Battle of New Orleans in the winter of 1814-15. Although Arthur writes that the drink was Jackson’s “favorite tipple,” Bodenheimer dismisses the claim: “I don’t think people were drinking vermouth in America in 1850.”

Though his vision for the Dauphine’s interpretation is a pre-batched version, Bodenheimer preserves elements of the cocktail-making ritual. The format coalesced at an event held at New York’s James Beard House in September 2019, intended as a preview for Dauphine’s. For the seated dinner with cocktail pairings, Bodenheimer sought out food-friendly pours, and the vermouth-forward Old Hickory seemed like a natural fit. Yet, stirred with ice, it felt too thin and watered-down. The solution was to pre-batch the vermouths and refrigerate the mixture until ready to serve. Bitters were stirred in at the last minute—“bitters expand in a batch over time, so I keep them out,” says Bodenheimer—and the mixture was then poured over a large ice cube and quickly served. The end result presented like a cocktail, but retained the texture of wine.

“We said, ‘What if we made it like an Old-Fashioned setup, and less like a vermouth cocktail?’” he recalls. “We always had our vermouth in the fridge anyway, so we always had a chilled vermouth bottle.”