drinkboston.com

Established: 2001
Specialty: Cocktails, beer, wine
Prices: Moderate
Atmosphere: Take your pick — attractive neighborhood eatery on one side; cozy pub with board games and TV screens on the other.
See Best Boston bars for address and contact info.

The Independent in Somerville’s Union Square is kind of like that middle sister who, after an awkward adolescence in which she was often overshadowed by her older and younger siblings, grew up to be the attractive, smart girl who’s really easy to hang out with.

The Indo, as regulars call it, has made a series of tweaks to its concept over the years, trying to achieve the magic trick of appealing to a wide-ranging clientele while cultivating its own identity. Chefs have come and gone, as have periods of sub-par food. Funky cocktail-lounge seating has been installed and removed, cheese tastings and poker nights have had their run, and live musical acts have mostly given way to iPod playlists. Fortunately, in the past couple of years, the food, the drink, the service and the concept have all settled into a nice groove.

I’m partial to the drink, of course. The Indo’s general manager, Jess Willis, is responsible for resurrecting vintage cocktails in Somerville. The frequently updated menu has included such gems as the Algonquin, the El Presidente, the Gin and It, and the Perfect Pal (Rittenhouse rye, Aperol, sweet and dry vermouth). Head bartender Evan Harrison is bringing his own enthusiasm for old-school mixology to the program, as well as helping to expand and improve the Indo’s beer list.

Evan, his fellow bar crew, and the servers on the floor have a laid-back but professional style. Chef Paul Oberhauser’s kitchen does a nice job with seasonal ingredients and satisfyingly simple dishes like steak frites and panko breadcrumb-crusted cod with bacon and clams. The burgers are good, too.

One of the nicest things about the Indo is that you can choose between two different spaces: the pub, a good place to watch the game or drink with a group of friends; and the restaurant, if you want to feel more like you’re having an Evening Out. Either way, the food and drink stay the same, as do the reasonable prices: $7-$9 for cockails, $5-$7 for most beers, and $13-$24 for entrées.

“Shake well with ice.”

The vast majority of recipes for straight-up cocktails instruct you to do this, but what does shaking (or stirring) “well” really mean? I occasionally give advice to home bartenders, and the main thing I find myself repeating is, “Shake/stir your cocktail until it’s really, really cold. You can leave a cocktail on ice longer than you think.” People are always surprised to hear this, because they heard somewhere once that bartenders are shiftless characters who will carelessly “water down” your drink unless you keep them on their toes. It’s not until these misguided drinkers have tasted a cocktail that’s been properly watered down, by a skilled bartender who knows his/her way around a shaker, that they realize what they’ve been missing during all those years of drinking tepid, poorly mixed booze.

But I find myself at a loss when the person I’m advising asks, “OK, but for how long do I shake the drink?” Well … it depends on the cocktail, the ice, the vigorousness of the shaking … In short, there’s not really a standard response. So I’m offering here the next best thing: expert advice. I posed these questions to several of Boston’s best bartenders: “How do you gauge when a cocktail’s cold enough — when your hand aches from holding the icy shaker? Do you count the number of shakes/stirs? For the home bartender’s sake, can you estimate the number of seconds (or even minutes) a typical cocktail should take to chill perfectly?” Their responses are below. Read them, and you’ll be able to wow the guests of your next cocktail party by demonstrating a “dry integration shake.”

NOTE: I didn’t really get into the whole matter of different types of ice, which some bartenders obsess over in their quest for the perfectly chilled drink. (That’ll be the subject for another day — this post’s long enough). That said, if you don’t have a Lewis Bag in your house, make sure you read to the end.

Rob Kraemer, Chez Henri

I go ’til my hand sticks to the shaker, probably under 20 seconds if shaking hard. Too long dilutes the drink fast, but I’m interested to see what other responses you get, as I don’t even think about it.

Ben Sandrof, No. 9 Park

As far as shaking a drink, I usually give egg drinks about a minute of shaking, unless of course it’s a fizz, in which case it’s a bit longer. If it’s a stirred cocktail, about 20 seconds does the trick. The key is that we are looking for approximately 20 to 30 percent ice melt in the cocktail, as well as the appropriate amount of chill. I could be a real nerd and tell you that there is a thermometer on hand to make sure the drinks are, as finished products, between 28 and 30 degrees, but let’s not go there yet…

Brother Cleve, freelance mixologist and cocktail historian

“When your hand aches from holding the icy shaker.” That’s really when I put it down. I recall going to the Blackbird in NYC when Dale DeGroff and Audrey Saunders were the bartenders, back in the late ’90s. I was really impressed with Dale’s shaking technique (over the shoulder, very fluid movements, and for a long time). I asked him about the length of time he would shake for, and he explained that he felt that the longer shaking time added, and mixed, the additional water the drink required to be balanced, especially since they used pretty large ice cubes. Generally, frost on the metal shaker indicates that it’s ready. I guess it works out to be a minute or two. I’ll shake longer if there’s dairy or eggs involved.

If I’m shaking with crushed ice, I do it for less time, as it adds more water at a more rapid rate. Same thing with blender drinks. Most tropicals should be done at high speed for five to 10 seconds, max.

Tom Schlesinger-Guidelli, Eastern Standard

In all honesty, I would say that both shaking and stirring are, at this point, second nature. It is really about feel, tasting a drink … is it balanced? Does it need more water to balance it out? Shaking or stirring are, at their most basic, about waterizing. I would say, in most scenarios, it is not necessarily about getting “appropriately cold” (though that is a wonderful secondary side effect). Instead, I think about properly waterizing that drink first, and how that usually offers you the proper temperature.

There are a number of different of types of shakes as well, each depending on what it is you are actually shaking. Many of Boston’s bartenders use a “dry shake” [a shake without ice, usually followed by a shake with ice] on egg drinks, arguing that it creates better texture in a drink. Some of us don’t necessarily buy into that philosophy. Then there is the “integration shake,” basically a quick two or three shakes, used to make the different liquids come together better. It’s one we use a lot, both for drinks like the Whiskey Smash, which ends up being strained over crushed ice, and for a lot of sparkling cocktails, like the Belle du Jour or even a French 75. In the Whiskey Smash example, you even use one further breakdown, a dry integration shake. It is for this reason that I think it is really hard to give an answer to “how long?” With a sort of mainstream everyday cocktail it is probably in the range of 30 or so shakes, maybe somewhere around 20 seconds.

In terms of stirring, I usually teach new bartenders to stir their cocktails until the shaker frosts over. That, to me, is kind of an easier distinction, particularly if you are stirring out of a [metal] shaker rather than a glass.

Now, a piece of advice from little old me: Before you make a cocktail at home, crack your ice. The cubes from your standard freezer tray are nice and hard and dense — much better in quality than most “quick-melt” bar ice, I’ve heard bartenders say — but, with their smooth surfaces, they’re a little too slow to melt in your shaker. So empty a tray of cubes into your Lewis Bag, and give the bag a few hard wacks with the accompanying wooden mallet. Cracked ice + ample shaking/stirring time = great cocktails.

I’ve been drafted to represent Tales of the Cocktail 2008 at the Boston Globe Travel Show this Friday and Saturday (February 22-23). TOTC Founder Ann Tuennerman is busy promoting her event elsewhere around the country, so I, along with Misty Kalkofen of Green Street, signed on for the job. Since Misty and I (and several of our fellow Boston cocktailians) are attending TOTC again this year, you’ll be hearing more about this be-there-or-be-square cocktail party as its time (July 16-20) nears. And, of course, there’ll be posts about the event during and after the fact, just like last year.

Misty’s and my presentation will involve a few cocktail demos, of course. Two of the featured drinks celebrate New Orleans and its cocktail history; the third gives Travel Show attendees a taste of what’s happening in today’s Boston scene. Try them out yourself while you plan your trip to New Orleans this summer. FYI, we used Hendrick’s gin (a TOTC sponsor) in the recipes below.

Obituary Cocktail

2 oz gin
1/4 oz dry vermouth
1/4 oz absinthe (or Herbsaint)

Stir all ingredients well over ice and strain into a cocktail glass. This cocktail was created at Jean Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop on Bourbon St., one of New Orleans’ oldest saloons.

French 75

1 1/2 oz gin
3/4 oz fresh lemon juice
1/2 oz simple syrup
Champagne

Shake gin, lemon juice and simple syrup over ice. Pour into champagne flute or saucer and top with Champagne. The bar at the famous New Orleans restaurant, Arnaud’s, is named for this drink. The drink is, as you know, named for the rapid-firing cannon the French used in World War I.

Flapper Jane

1 3/4 oz gin
1/2 oz fresh lemon juice
3/4 oz Wu Wei tea-infused simple syrup*
dash of Peychaud’s bitters

Shake all ingredients over ice and strain into a cocktail glass. The Flapper Jane was created for the LUPEC Boston Tea Party.

*Wu Wei tea-infused simple syrup: heat 1 cup sugar, 1 cup water and 1 Tbsp Wu Wei tea in a saucepan until all the sugar dissolves. Pour into a container and let cool. Store in fridge.

You would think, from the buzz that began the day it opened for business, that Highland Kitchen was the very first restaurant to open in Somerville. It seems everywhere I go, someone is asking someone else, “So, have you been to Highland Kitchen yet?” I’ve lived in Somerville for a long time, I’ve seen some good restaurants come and go, but I’ve never seen anything like this level of excitement.

Is it warranted? Pretty much. What we Somervillians essentially have with Highland Kitchen is our first neighborhood restaurant owned by a noted chef who is offering consistently well made, but not too fancy, food and drink in the perfect price range. (Entrées under $20, surprisingly large cocktails $7-$8). Highland Kitchen is to the ‘ville what the Franklin Café is to the South End or Green Street is to Central Square in Cambridge. Which makes sense, because the chef-owner, Mark Romano, used to be the chef at Green Street and its former incarnation, the Green Street Grill, drawing legions of fans with his Caribbean-influenced dishes. He’s slipping some of that cuisine in here and there, but basically this is a menu of the comfort variety, with steak frites, bluefish cakes, a “Cuban Reuben,” gumbo, burgers, etc.

Part of the enthusiasm over Highland Kitchen stems from its location in a spot, outside of the city’s main squares, that has never had a destination restaurant. People who live in neighborhoods north of Highland Ave. no longer have to trek to Davis or Union squares to get a nice dinner. And Highland Kitchen is staffed with pros, so it hasn’t seemed to suffer the dreaded kinks that need to be worked out in the first few months of business. Romano’s wife and partner, Marci Joy, was (according to the Globe), a manager at East Coast Grill. The servers and bartenders have logged many hours at other respected establishments around greater Boston, including No. 9 Park, Upstairs on the Square, the Independent and Gaslight. I wasn’t surprised at all when I found Joe McGuirk working behind the bar during my most recent visit.

Michael, the bar manager, is a gracious guy who has put together a short but decent cocktail list with a few things — like the Bourbon Smash, the Brandy Flip and the Periodista — that appeal to vintage cocktail enthusiasts like me. There are daily blackboard specials, too. Aware of McGuirk’s knowledge of vintage recipes, I embarked on an off-menu expedition by asking for a Frisco. Alas, there was no Benedictine (only B&B). Then Michael suggested a Red Hook. Uh — yes please! Good food, good service, good prices and Red Hooks? Highland Kitchen’s not the first restaurant to open in Somerville, but I’m going to go ahead and say it’s already among the best.

Things I learned this week:

1. Jeff “Beachbum” Berry’s Grog Blog features a post titled “Monks + Drunks x Sisterhood = the Pago Pago Cocktail.” It seems Berry made the acquaintance of some of the ladies of LUPEC Boston (that’s the Boston chapter of Ladies United for the Preservation of Endangered Cocktails) a couple of months ago when he was in town for the Sippin’ Safari. He became intrigued by the cocktails that LUPEC Boston and drinkboston.com created for a Chartreuse event at Green Street back in August.

“Inspired by LUPEC Boston’s creations,” writes the tiki guru, “we combed through our cocktail library in search of vintage tropical drinks that call for Chartreuse. In a 1940 book entitled The How And When, we finally found a good one: the Pago Pago. To make it, place 1 ounce of diced fresh pineapple in your cocktail shaker, then muddle the pineapple in 1/2 ounce fresh lime juice. Add 1/4 ounce white creme de cacao, 3 teaspoons green Chartreuse, and 1 1/2 ounces gold Puerto Rican rum. Shake well with ice cubes and strain into a cocktail glass.”

I have only tasted this drink in my mind, but it’s one of the most delicious imaginary cocktails I’ve ever had. I vow to mix one up for myself soon.

2. Blackberrying me from the bar at KO Prime, a friend of mine made me aware of the steak house’s “Retro Sundays.” He said he and his wife were drinking Pink Squirrels (creme de noyaux, creme de cacao and cream). Apparently, the bartenders robe up like Hugh Hefner, Chef Jamie Bisonnette parades around in a cartoonish toque, and the dinner menu includes old-school steak house specialties like all-you-can-eat prime rib, Oysters Rockefeller and shrimp cocktail. Cool.

3. Meanwhile, speaking of old-school … over at the Independent, bartender Evan Harrison is dreaming up a special menu of “cheap scotch cocktails.” It seems the bar has a surplus of Cluny blended scotch on hand (in 1.5 liter plastic bottles of course), and, well, Evan’s going to do his own version of your grandfather’s night out. I took a sniff from the Cluny bottle during a recent visit, and it smelled like … it smelled like the first time I ever smelled whiskey: dangerous and slightly sickening. I’m anxiously awaiting that menu. (Oh, and by the way, Evan also re-did the Indo’s website, and I think it looks damn cool.)

I attended a party recently that Beija Cachaca hosted at Eastern Standard. Cachaca is Brazilian rum. It’s made from sugar cane juice instead of the more common base for rum, molasses. Kevin Beardsley and Steve Diforio, the two fresh-out-of-college guys who started the company that formulated and now imports and markets Beija, declare that “in 2007 the U.S. government officially designated Beija as the World’s First Virgin Cane Rum.”

I wondered how “virgin cane rum” differs from 10 Cane, another new rum made from virgin sugar cane, or rhum agricole, or other cachacas, for that matter. Apparently, the designation hinges on the fact that the distillation process begins a mere 10 hours after the sugar cane is harvested and pressed. “Other brands allow their sugarcane to wallow in the sun for days before distilling it.” Horrors!

OK, despite the tone of the marketing kit (and the annoyingly predictable packaging featuring “an alluring female figure in profile”), the product is pretty solid. For an 80 proof spirit, it has absolutely no burn, especially compared to the harshness that I’ve heard is the defining characteristic of most cachacas available in the U.S. To me, Beija smelled a lot like sake and had a very soft, somewhat sake-like, dryly fruity taste.

Like most people, I had only ever had cachaca in a Caipirinha (together now, that’s “ky-pir-EEN-ya”), a refreshing mixture of cachaca and muddled lime juice and sugar over ice that is competing with the Mojito for Most Popular Latin American Cocktail. The whole idea of the event (besides getting people like me to write about Beija) was to try cachaca in ways that break free from the Caipirinha. My favorite among the cocktails that Jackson Cannon and his bar crew mixed that night was a variation on the Red Hook: 2 oz Beija (instead of rye) and a 1/2 oz each of Punt e Mes and Luxardo Maraschino. Really nice and mellow. A few of us also tried a Negroni with Beija substituted for gin. We agreed that it didn’t quite work; the Campari overpowered the softer spirit.

Other Boston bars serving Beija are Om in Harvard Square, District and the Vintage Lounge.

Drinkboston.com reader Adam Machanic emailed me recently with the results of some exhaustive mixological studies of apple-based spirits from Laird’s & Co., the oldest producer of America’s oldest native distilled spirit, applejack. In addition to applejack (a blend of 35 percent apple brandy and 65 percent grain neutral spirits that puts the “jack” in a Jack Rose), Laird’s produces Old Apple Brandy, aged in oak for 7 1/2 years, and 100-proof, bottled-in-bond apple brandy that’s also 7 1/2 years old. It takes about 20 pounds of apples to make just one of these bottles of pure apple spirits. Wow. Adam’s findings made me think, ‘Man, I’ve gotta get my hands on some of this stuff!’ and I wanted to share them:

“I ended up ‘experimenting’ my way through an entire bottle of the 7 1/2 year old brandy over the past several weeks, and I have to say, if science class experiments had been that fun I might have studied a bit more often. Seriously, though, it’s great stuff. Compared with the ’smooth blend’ version, it hits you quite hard in the nose with apple essence the moment you remove the cap. Straight, it has a bit of sweetness, and is exceptionally drinkable neat or with an ice cube or two. Color-wise, it’s light, golden and exceptionally clear. Excellent in a Marconi Wireless with some good vermouth — but much better with Vya than with Punt e Mes; the latter overpowers it. I also thought it was wasted in a Jack Rose — the drink tasted no different to me than with the normal applejack. I really enjoyed it as an Old Fashioned, with 1/3 tsp of sugar, two dashes of Regan’s orange bitters, and a dash of Angostura.

“I enjoyed my experiments so much that I placed a follow-up order and got my hands on some of the 100 proof, bonded stuff. This is an entirely different beast — the liquid in the bottle has an almost rusty tone, and is slightly hazy compared with the brandy. And as an added bonus, there are a few floating specks of something in each bottle, visible if you shake it up a bit. Who knows what’s in there. The apple sensation is huge and overpowering both on the nose and the tongue, but thanks to the increased proof there is also quite a bit of heat — I don’t like this one neat at all. On the flip side, it stands up to the Punt e Mes just fine in a Marconi Wireless, and can even be a bit overpowering. I haven’t had a chance to do a Jack Rose yet, but that’s next on the list — I have high hopes for its success there.”

Many thanks to Adam for putting his liver to the test for the sake of experimentation. Unfortunately, he had to order the specialty Laird’s items online; I don’t know of any liquor stores in the Boston area that carry anything other than the blended applejack. Please, correct me if I’m mistaken.

A recent email from a restaurant manager friend said, “We’re throwing an ’80s bash on New Year’s Eve in Sister Sorel and I’m trying to research what cocktails were popular at that time. I was thinking Sex on the Beach, Blow Job shots and White Russians, but that’s where I ran out. If anyone has any thoughts on this, please send them my way!”

Since, unlike my friend, I came of age in the decade that popularized blender drinks, wine coolers, DeKuyper Peach Schnapps and cocktails with sexual names, I readily responded to her first three stabs at drinks of the period. “Oh, yeah, those qualify. And don’t forget about Sombreros, Mudslides, Slippery Nipples, B-52s, Woo-Woos, Kamikazes, Alabama Slammers and California Root Beers.” Aaah, the sweet nectar of spring break — another ’80s phenomenon. (Yeah, I know, spring break has been around at least since Where the Boys Are, but it didn’t become a huge, regularly televised event until the MTV decade.)

In the ’80s, cocktails were climbing out of an era in which innovations in inebriation focused on drugs instead of booze. Courtesy of Ronald Reagan, it was “morning again in America,” and a new generation of young adults entered college with the intention of launching high-paying careers. They toasted to their bright future as yuppies with a new crop of appropriately cheerful (but naughty sounding!) drinks based on vodka, schnapps, Kahlua, Bailey’s Irish Cream and any other sweet liquor meant to be speed-poured into a glass a la Tom Cruise in Cocktail (”Where he pours, he reigns.”).

Those of you who remember the Decade of Dumb Drinks: What were your faves? Did the Sex on the Beach and its ilk pave the way for today’s candy-flavored martinis, or does every era simply have its own ridiculous cocktails?

So, Scott and I are at Sav-Mor Liquors on McGrath Highway in Somerville the other day, buying what we usually buy at this seedily lit booze warehouse — a hodgepodge of 2-for-$12 wines, cheap-ass beer in cans and a good microbrew (which, this time of year, tends to be Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale) — when the indifferent sales clerk throws a little booklet into our bag of merchandise.

Now, Sav-Mor is the kind of place that sells economy-sized jugs of Mudslide Mix on the low end and Chivas holiday gift sets on the high end, so when I get home and start to flip through the booklet, called the Guide to Good Hosting 2008, I’m expecting page after page of “martini” recipes like Lingonberry Allspice Cosmos or some such Martha Stewart-y thing.

Instead, I land on page 7 to find the Whiz Bang:

1 1/2 oz Johnnie Walker Red Label
1/2 Noilly Prat dry vermouth
2 dashes grenadine
1 dash Lucid absinthe or, if not available, use Pernod or Herbsaint
2 dashes Gary Regan’s Orange Bitters No. 6

Shake ingredients with ice and strain into a chilled martini glass.

Um… WHA?! A cocktail calling for not only scotch, but dry vermouth, orange bitters and absinthe “or, if not available, use Pernod or Herbsaint”?! Wondering if this throwaway little pamphlet was written in magic ink that somehow gleaned my drinking preferences, I read on. There were recipes for a Vesper, a Gin Sling and a Honeymoon Cocktail (1 1/2 oz Laird’s Apple Jack, 1/4 oz Benedictine, 3/4 ounce Hiram Walker Orange Curacao, 1/2 oz fresh lemon juice), among other respectable drinks. And not only were many of the called-for ingredients of some quality (Luxardo Maraschino liqueur anyone?), the following tips appeared in a section called “Home bartending - become a great mixologist at home”:

“Serve your cocktails icy cold. The colder the better.”
“Use only fresh fruit whenever possible.”
“When the ingredients are clear liquids, STIR for proper mixing.”

Whoa. Any novice who comes across this booklet and actually follows its recipes and advice stands the chance of making a decent cocktail for his holiday gathering — and thus exposing his friends and family to the concept of a well-crafted drink intended for adults. The Guide to Good Hosting 2008 is a Christmas Miracle for the Cocktail Revolution.

Turns out the Guide is put out by the Beverage Media Group, the longtime publisher of liquor-industry journals whose writers include people like Dale “King Cocktail” DeGroff. DeGroff, of course, is one of the leading lights of mixology and a founder of the Museum of the American Cocktail. Even if he wasn’t directly involved in producing the Guide, his influence is all over it. Now, if only the retailers who hand these booklets out — hello, Sav-Mor — would actually sell the ingredients in the recipes … Luxardo Maraschino, Regan’s Orange Bitters … hell, rye whiskey would be a good start. I’ll have to wait ’til next year for that miracle.

I tend to be skeptical of trendy new drink menus, especially those at trendy new restaurants that are obviously cashing in on a popular concept. In this case, I’m talking about the drink menu at Mooo, which joins KO Prime as Boston’s latest postmodern steak house. These aren’t your grandfather’s steak houses, with their dark, gentleman’s club decor. These are steak houses for today’s stylish man or woman susceptible to sleek, wink-wink design, like blurred photos of calves on the wall above your meat-laden table, and ornate chandeliers ‘clothed’ in cylinders of parchment. Mooo, which replaced the Federalist in the XV Beacon Hotel, is the latest ultra-high-end offering from celebrity chef Jamie Mammano of Mistral and Sorellina.

Luckily, there is a drink at Mooo that hits the right note of wit and taste without trying too hard, and that is the Lady’s Martini: Lillet Blanc, fresh lemon juice and hibiscus syrup, chilled and served straight up with a champagne chaser. I don’t know why it’s called the Lady’s Martini — maybe because it’s pink and relatively low in alcohol. It also happens to be gorgeous and delicious. Mooo serves the “martini” in a delicate, vintage-looking cocktail glass and the champagne chaser in a stemless flute, an aesthetic combination that makes you feel sophisticated just by sitting in front of it. But that’s not what we’re about, is it? We’re about flavor. And this cocktail has a layered, sweet-tartness that would satisfy even without the champagne. But when you put the bubbles on top of this little flavor lozenge, you suddenly feel like you’re wearing white gloves and smart hat.

All you men out there who appreciate a good cocktail: I urge you to be secure enough in your masculinity to give the Lady’s Martini ($13) a try. Or at least have your date order it, and taste hers.