What's In A Name - Cherchez la femme!

Today’s offering is a few mixed drinks named for women.   If you find one to your liking, pass on the story as well as the drink.

The first is named in honor of an African-American woman of note, Susie King Taylor.  Employed as a laundress, nurse, and educator, Susie Taylor wrote a book Reminiscences of My Life with the 33rd United States Colored Troops Late 1st S.C. Volunteers.  An easy read of about 80 pages (available free online) it starts with a brief history of her family, describes her experiences traveling with her husbands unit during its campaigns, then finishes with a brief description of her life in the post-war years.

No mere camp follower, Mrs. Taylor was hired by the regiment as a laundress, though she says she seldom had time to perform that task. There  was a myriad of more pressing needs that kept her busy such as nursing the sick and wounded, helping to clean muskets, packing knapsacks and cartridge boxes, searching for food, and teaching reading and writing to those soldiers interested.  She saw the war from Charleston to Jacksonville and her slim book is a good read for as it gives a uniquely female perspective of life in the "colored troops."

In a late chapter, Taylor writes a very thoughtful essay on issues of race and treatment of veterans in general.  One sentence, appropriate to our proximity to Veterans Day, serves to illustrate how times really do not change:

“I look around now and see the comforts that our younger generation enjoy, and think of the blood that was shed to make these comforts possible for them, and see how little some of them appreciate the old soldiers. My heart burns.”

The Susie Taylor comes from Straub's Manual of Mixed Drinks, 1913.  A simple, pleasant cooler, it is a Cuba Libre with ginger ale substituted for Coke.

Next, we have Elsie Ferguson, a blue-eyed blond star of stage and screen in the early 20th century. Starting as a chorus girl  in 1900, she made her last performance on Broadway in 1943.

In 1919, the women's magazine, Milady Beautiful, described her as "the greatest mistress of poise, grade and artistry."  She was a very private, and self-effacing person active in charity work and an "ardent" suffragette.  During WWI, Elsie Ferguson participated in Liberty Loan drives, the Red Cross and United War work.  Elsie was considered a difficult person, in part, for her dislike of interviews and parties.  A 1918 article in Photoplay described her as "rather cold, indifferent, almost unhappy, and sometimes rather unreal" when off-stage. She was not without humor.  When told a reporter wanted to do a story on how she spent her money, she stated, "I spend it with pleasure."

Today, only one of her silent movies Witness for the Defense, 1919, and one of her talkies Scarlet Pages, 1930, are known to exist.

The Elsie Ferguson Fizz is also from Straub's.

Finally, we have Phoebe Snow. Again we return to 1900.  Phoebe was a model Floradora girl, a shining example of feminine pulchritude and decorum, the "Girl in White,” and like most shining examples - imaginary.  Phoebe, a product of the mind of one W. P. Colton, advertising manager for the Lackawanna Railroad, was as real as Flo, the enthusiastic Progressive Insurance spokesperson.

Phoebe Snow was simply a name made up to fit the first of a series of advertising jingles:

Phoebe Snow about to go

Upon a trip to Buffalo

"My gown keeps white

Both day and night

Upon the Road of Anthracite"

Phoebe, dressed in white like Flo a la 1900, was the darling of the Lackawanna Railroad.  She was able to travel in white on the Lackawanna without fear of her clothes being soiled by soot because the Lackawanna locomotives burned more expensive anthracite coal, hence the moniker of  "The Road of Anthracite."  For those of you too young to remember coal fired furnaces and stoves, coal comes in three flavors - dirty (anthracite), dirtier (bituminous/sub-bituminous), and dirtiest (lignite), and was priced accordingly.

In in her day, Phoebe Snow, graced magazines, billboards, newspapers and streetcars. The ad copy featured rhymes extolling the virtues of the Lackawanna Railroad - courtesy, safety, comfort, and pleasure. While the rhymes seem juvenile today, in 1904 they were described as "tripping, lilting rhymes, associated with a form feminine equally dainty."

Phoebe fell on hard times about 1914, being eventually dropped by the railroad only to return briefly hawking cosmetics and underwear.  In the 1940's the Lackawanna gave her a facelift, and brought her back for another twenty years.

The Phoebe Snow Cocktail is from The How and When by Marco, 1940.

Some Like It Hot (Toddy)

Let me start by disabusing you of any thought that this blog post will have anything to do with a great Marilyn Monroe movie, or that sexy "ice cream blonde" of yesteryear - Thelma Todd aka "Hot Toddy." Rather, since the weather is turning chilly, we are going to talk about a couple of traditional hot drinks. Those pics are a great hook though, aren't they?

The first, and one of my favorites is Hot Gin, a drink with a considerable history dating to the 1700's (by 1825 "piss-quick" was established in English slang for gin and water). Medically, hot gin was was prescribed for dozens of ailments. Considered a stimulant during the day, a drink to "promote repose" in the evening, and a treatment for cholera.  Into the 1890's, a hot gin was considered appropriate for female "pelvic complaints" such as dysmenorrhea - used to such a degree that the medical journal Lancet expressed concern that hot gin was contributing to alcoholism amongst women.

Hot gin is also featured in English literature, making several appearances in works by authors as prominent as Charles Dickens.  In Oliver Twist, Fagin gives Oliver a hot gin after his  first meal with the artful Dodger, and the gang, to put him to sleep.  Later, Mr. Bumble, on seeing a newspaper item regarding Oliver, dashes off "...actually in his excitement" leaving his evening "glass of hot gin and water untasted."  Criminal waste!

Traditional recipes for Hot Gin vary only slightly and I enjoy them all.  If you have a favorite gin, use it.  If not, use whatever is handy.

The earliest recipe employs water, hot or cold - "Hot acts the quickest" per an early 1800’s writer, in a 2:1 ratio.  This was nicknamed “soap-suds” or, as previously mentioned, “piss-quick.” 

A more genteel and tasty drink is the Hot Gin Sling.  Put one spoon of sugar in a hot drink glass, or cup, fill half way (about 4 ounces) with hot water, add a jigger of gin, stir, add a piece of bruised lemon peel and dust with nutmeg.

Toss in a couple of cloves and a bit of allspice, and you now have a Hot Spiced Gin.

To make a Hot Gin Punch (my preferred variant) add the juice of 1/4 lemon, and a thin slice of lemon to the basic Hot Gin Sling recipe.

The gin drinks above are essentially a gin "toddy." Today a toddy, or "tottie", is nothing more than spirits mixed with hot water, sugar, and spices or flavoring to taste. Spirits, water (hot or cold), and sugar were the basic toddy of yore.

We primarily think of a toddy as using whiskey - bourbon, rye, scotch, or Canadian, will do.  Traditionally, after a hospitable dinner, a host would bring a kettle of hot water to the table, along with assorted spirits such as whiskey, brandy, rum, and port, allowing the guests to mix "toddies" to their taste.  Tumblers and wine glasses were the glassware of choice In the home.

Like hot gin, the hot toddy was considered to be of medicinal value.  It was recommended for the treatment of colds (including those of children), gout, and heat stroke.

A stanza from a "dramatic" poem penned by Irish dramatist John O'Keefe in 1790 seems more a limerick today - "cannon loud 'gainst cannon ranting; At his gun, poor Jack see panting; As to lip he lifts the Toddy; Off flies head and down drops body."

Widely appreciated, the toddy was enjoyed by notables as Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns, Ulysses S. Grant, Jefferson Davis, and Mark Twain.  A drink that wears its years well, continues to be popular today, and is perfect for that quiet evening at home.

Black Box Warning - In the 1790's for those preaching temperance, just as marijuana was regarded the gateway drug by do-goods of my generation, the toddy was regarded a the gateway drink to alcoholism in theirs.  The evening toddy was said to lead to "drams in the morning, and afterward (drinkers) have paid their lives as the price of their folly."

Having been warned, tempt fate and try a toddy this evening by substituting your favorite spirit, including flavored ones, for the gin in the recipes above and changing the name accordingly.  The Hot Gin Punch becomes a Hot Rum Punch or Hot Whiskey Punch. Too strong? Titrate the water to your taste. Too sweet, or not sweet enough---adjust your sugar.  If you like cinnamon sticks or vanilla beans, use them.

The Hot Gin and the Toddy are "old as the hills" and some of the easiest to personalize.

Book of Toasts, Autrim, 1902

Ghoulish Stories, Requiems, Corpse Revivers, and Zombies, Oh My!

With Halloween creeping upon us and with ghoulish movies and TV shows coming to the fore, I thought I would start with some real-life stories and finish with aptly named drinks.

Looking at the not so horrifying “horror” stories from my life, there were several candidates, and all appear wanting for various reasons.  I imagine that many of you, upon reflection, could do as well or better.

War stories were the low hanging fruit.  My father, a combat veteran of WWII and Vietnam, told many tales.  Once he spoke of being in charge of a detail in the Philippines, during the closing days of WWII, whose duty was to exhume soldiers, recently and hastily buried, for return to their families.  A grisly task.  Protective equipment consisted of gas masks – his worst wartime experience and too grim to expand upon.

Next I considered sharing something "scary" of my own – like a failed attempt at first aid at the scene of a stabbing - steak knife through the carotid, definitely DRT "Dead Right There" (not to be confused with CTD "Circling the Drain") – again too grim. 

Seeking a lighter side, I trod the murky corners of my brain for other experiences.

I once worked as a night security guard in a medical complex in San Antonio, Texas.  At twilight, in a dark and deserted medical building, I was checking locks on doors. Finding one unlocked, I entered to check the office.  Immediately in front of me was a skeleton.  I will admit to being briefly startled – story too short and too dull.

Then there are the cemeteries I have visited, a must wherever I travel.  I have always said that cemeteries are people at their best – everyone getting along without regard for race, color, creed, or politics.  There are great cemeteries, large and small, all over the north and south.  In the southwest, many appear a

bit plain, but often have a stark beauty of their own.  At one clinic, in a dusty, dreary community, I would occasionally go to the nearby cemetery and eat lunch under the trees.  Very peaceful and the permanent residents were excellent luncheon companions.  No ghosts, noises or other signs of haunting – so a poor story.

Alternatively, while employed in a hospital, I became adept at placing the deceased into body bags by myself.  If that sounds easy, try it with a large individual, whose body is all "loosey-goosey," not stiff as a post, laying on a stretcher.  After "bagging and tagging," I would take them to the "green room," our morgue, which was actually painted blue.  To move the body through the hospital without disturbing the sensibilities of patients and visitors, we had a special gurney.  It had a metal lower shelf to place the body upon and an upper frame that was flat.  A large white, form-fitted drape was put over the top, giving the gurney the appearance of a rolling banquet table.  While prepping the body, bagging, and transporting to the morgue, I kept up a monologue with the deceased.  I spoke of events precipitating demise, visitors if any, where we were going and how we would get there.  After placing the departed upon a shelf, with others, I extended my best wishes and left.  None of my charges ever replied, or called upon me later – so that is a story of that takes the "long way around the barn" to be mundane.

Then there was the Halloween party with the theme "come as your favorite doctor or patient."  The most memorable costume was that of a nurse who came dressed in a body bag as one of our "frequent flyers" who finally managed to buy the proverbial farm.  Stories like that are too tasteless for lay people, and unless you have worked in an ER, law enforcement, or similar field, you will not understand the need to laugh at otherwise grim affairs.

Having established that "real-life" death is unfit for human consumption (but O.K. for zombies?); let us have some fun with drinks with death themes.

The first drink is "The Requiem."  Now for you non-Catholics out there, a Requiem or Requiem Mass, is a prayer service for the dead.  Its name comes from the opening line of the mass “Requiem aeternam dona eis" or "grant them rest forever..."  From the Requiem we also get "Requiescant in pace,"  “May they rest in peace” – the familiar R.I.P. on tombstones. The Requiem we are interested in is from The Flowing Bowl, 1898, by Willie Schmidt. It is a tasty mixed drink, rather like eggnog. The only addition to the recipe that I would recommend is a dash of nutmeg on top.

Following the Requiem, it is only natural to use a "Corpse Reviver" to get those synapses firing and animate our burned out, lifeless bodies.

By 1861, the Corpse Reviver was deemed "a celebrated drink."  A creation of the London Haymarket district, it was billed as an American drink.  In fact, about 1878 the famous bartender/author Jerry Thomas mocked the purveyors of liquor around Charing Cross for selling English drinks as American drinks.  He went on to say that he was about to open an American bar in London "and show the Britishers what's what. Then there'll be no need to brew bogus Yankee drinks!"

Recipes courtesy Boothby's World Drinks, 1934

Now that we have had our Requiem, and our Corpse Reviver, it seems appropriate to follow with the “Zombie.”  I have no interest in the flesh-eating ghouls of modern television and cinema.  Everyone growing up in the 1950's knows that a "real" zombie is merely a person, living or dead, under the control of a voodoo priest or priestess.  No flesh eating, no rotting body parts, pretty much a boring minion of the possessor. 

My preferred zombie, that of the "classic" black and white movies of the 1930’s, is indeed the only genuine zombie, so a pox on the rest of you.  As proof, I offer a Life magazine article.  We are cognizant that anything printed in a major periodical by reputable authors must be true – why else would anyone read the Sun or the Mirror?  In December of 1937, Life magazine did an article entitled "Black Haiti: Where Old Africa and the New World Meet."  Included is a photo by to "Zora Neale Hurston, Negro author with a Guggenheim scholarship…" and described as "the only zombie ever photographed." According to the author, the person/zombie died (or was drugged into a coma) and buried in 1907, returning "naked and demented" to her fathers farm in 1916. From the photo, she is clearly not decomposing or shedding body parts.  Indeed, with her unkempt appearance and her blank stare, she looks like the zombies in those classic movies.  Prima facie evidence that the old zombies my generation knew are the only genuine zombies.

As to the drink, the “Zombie” was the invention of Donn "the Beachcomber" Beach, who created it in the 1930's. Originally, it was sold no more than two to a customer.  Its claim to fame lies in its potency.  I can testify to this.  In my youth, when so many of us have manure for brains, I ill advisedly downed a dozen in a chug-a-lug contest in Juarez, Mexico, after an evening of drinking.  Fortunately, I did not drive nor ended up in a hospital.  After trying to pick a fight with a group of soldiers, it was the sickest night of my life (the cabrito burritos probably did not help) and I gave up any sort of drinking for almost five years.

The "Zombie," like so many drinks, has metastasized into many versions over the years.  I have chosen a version "from the land down under" – Australia, courtesy of The Australian Bartender's Guide, Stebben & Corsar, 1990. While not the most elaborate of Zombies, it is one easily made in the home bar and I would suggest no more than one to a customer.  In addition, the Juarez Zombies were blue, so if you want a 1960’s South of the Border version, substitute blue curacao.

Enjoy your Halloween celebrations and, please, remember "If you drink, don't drive."

Cheesecake and Cocktails

One of the more interesting cocktail books in my library is Bottom's Up, compiled and edited by Ted Saucier.

Ted Saucier had a successful career as a "flack," or publicist for the Waldorf-Astoria hotel.  From the late 1930's through 1950's he was frequently mentioned in Billboard magazine for his publicity prowess in promoting entertainment at the Waldorf.  He also served as the technical advisor for hotel operations in the 1945 movie "Weekend at the Waldorf."

Published in 1951 and pre-dating Playboy magazine by two years, it seems Saucier used the passion for pin-up girls and cheesecake, that blossomed in World War II, as a marketing hook to set his book of drink recipes apart from other others of the period.

In the early 1900’s, “cheesecake” was news photographer slang for a photo whose chief merit was a view of a woman's "gams" or legs. By the 1940's it had become synonymous with images characteristic of famous "pin-up girls" like Betty Grable and Jane Russell. A 1951 ad for a program on improving business  marketing, featured a segment entitled "How the Magic of Cheesecake Builds the Gross." 

In the description of the book, Bottom's Up, much is made of the illustrations having been done by "distinguished artists." This seems to echo the old joke about buying Playboy for its articles.  Not that the articles are without merit, just that they are incidental to the intent of the magazine. 

The background of the artists contributing “cheesecake” to Bottom's Up supports the claim.  Al Dorne, provider of the cover/title art, had done considerable advertising art as diverse as Lifebuoy soap and the U.S. Coast Guard.  Born "in  the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge," leaving school at 13, he eventually became the president of the Society of Illustrators and founder of Famous Artists Art School - whose ads were featured in comic books and magazines in the 1950-60's.

The twelve full page, glossy, provocative images "by twelve of America's  most distinguished artists" in a style we see show up in Playboy by artists like Vargas, is not the only similarity to Playboy magazine.  

Patterson's margin sprite

Nieman's "femlin"

Bottom's Up margins feature decorative sprites, done by Russell Patterson. Leroy Neiman's "femlin" in Playboy appears to have been inspired by Patterson's work in Bottom's Up.  Patterson really was a distinguished artist.  He created seminal images of the "flappers" of the 1920's and influenced the artwork of others, around the world, with his "Patterson Girl,” a much sought after image in advertising and magazine covers.  The Patterson Girl was as well known to Americans of the time, as were the Ziegfeld Girls.  In 1931 he was described as an "illustrator, cartoonist, and protege of William Randolph Hearst," continuing in the same vein into the 1950's.

Amongst the other illustrators, we indeed have a distinguished cast. James Montgomery Flagg was the creator of the WWI poster of Uncle Sugar saying he wants you for the U.S. Army.  Arthur William Brown was known for pencil and ink illustrations in magazines such as Colliers, the Saturday Evening Post and for books.  Ben Stahl, in addition to being an illustrator, was also the author of Blackbeard’s Ghost, which became a Disney movie.  James Falter was an illustrator for the Saturday Evening Post and prolific creator or WWII posters – particularly for the WAVES.  

"Picadilly Circus" by Bundy
in Bottom's Up

The story of Gilbert Bundy who, after a brilliant career as an artist/illustrator, went to the Pacific theatre, with the Marines, as a combat artist for Hearst newspapers is perhaps the most poignant--particularly today when PTSD is so often in the news. Trapped for several hours under enemy fire in the wreckage of a landing craft on Tarawa, beneath the bodies of dead Marines, he escaped by swimming away at night.  He survived the ordeal only to take his own life on the five-year anniversary of the event.

For those that are fans of illustrators, others contributing to Bottom’s Up are John La Gatta, Phil Dormont, Earl Cordrey, Bradshaw Crandall, and Robert Bushnell.  Works, as well as biographies, of all of the artists are viewable online and quite interesting.

Bottom's Up does not need the risque artwork to justify its space in a collection of cocktail books.  It contains 780 recipes; many are signature drinks from high society hotels, individuals, and watering holes, and are not to be found elsewhere.  The credited drinks reflect an array of people and businesses with whom a “flack,” for a hotel as prominent as the Waldorf, would have had contact.

Two drinks excerpted from Bottom’s Up that I particularly enjoyed are featured below.

Enric Madriguera, to whom this drink is credited, is unknowingly familiar to many of you. While his specialty was music with a Latin tempo, his rendition of “Let’s Have Another Cup of Coffee” is featured on the soundtrack of the movie “Paper Moon.”

Recipe & Artwork courtesy Bottom's Up

 Another, is one of the “railroad” drinks in Bottom's Up served on the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe.  I did not have the pleasure of trying this drink as a passenger, but I had the opportunity to ride the Super Chief from Kansas City to Albuquerque in the 1960’s.

Recipe & Artwork courtesy Bottom's Up

Of Ratsch-Bum and Whizz Bangs

Last week was the anniversary of the start of Loos Offensive of  World War I. Notable for the death of Rudyard Kipling’s only son - one of the many casualties on that field of battle, and the extensive use of shrapnel across the Loos valley, particularly on crossroads and communications trenches to prevent enemy movement.  On a lighter note, Kaiser Bill was also captured. Unfortunately, this was not Queen Victoria's malignant, moustachioed, grandson Willy, but rather a forlorn German army mule.

Hearing about the anniversary of Loos, renewed an old interest in artillery.

A gun of B Btry, 65th AAA Bn,1958

When I was young, my fathers' first command after OCS was a battery of 120mm anti-aircraft guns.  The battery was just outside a Marine base, near Naha, on Okinawa.  The 120's were the penultimate development in anti-aircraft artillery, soon to be made obsolete by missiles. The gun tube was about 24 feet long and capable of firing a shell at 3100 ft/sec to an altitude of 60,000 feet.

On firing, the guns report was a deafening CRACK!!! that hurt the ears and sounded like a monstrous high velocity rifle. The firing of the battery frequently shattered windows on the Marine base.  On one occasion when Dad took me out to watch his battery fire, he gave me the opportunity to fire a Quad-50 machine gun, two of which were part of the battery.

Back to the shrapnel shell - The Germans can rightfully claim invention and first use of the shrapnel shell.  In the 17th century, they developed a projectile called the Hagelkugel, or "hail shell".  It was a lead cylinder with a fuse and bursting charge at one end, the other end was sealed.  Behind the bursting charge was the "hail" - metal fragments, bullets, or pebbles. When loaded into the cannon, the fused end of the projectile faced the cannons charge.  On firing, the bursting charge of the Hagelkugel released the "hail" at about 100 yards from the gun.

The Hagelkugel was used during the 1641 siege of Gennep, in the Netherlands.  Unfortunately for German bragging rights, artillery was an art and early artllerists were extremely secretive.  This caused the Hagelkugel to sink into obscurity, allowing an Englishman to claim invention and have his name forever linked to the Shrapnel Shell.

Henry Shrapnel developed his version of the Hagelkugel around 1784.  Originally known as “spherical iron cased shot,” it used a primitive wooden fuse - a wood plug through which a gunpowder fuse ran.  The interior of the iron case was filled with black powder and lead balls.  On bursting, the shrapnel was projected across an area of about 150 yards. The advantage of the shrapnel shell over grape or canister is that instead of being a short-range antipersonnel projectile, it could be fired at longer distances as determined by the fuse and bursting charge. 

It was first employed in 1804 against settlers in Dutch Guiana, now Suriname. Officially adopted by the English in 1808, the Duke of Wellesley wrote that he considered it an important invention and that it should be kept secret.  Despite being widely available to British gunners during the Napoleonic Wars, correct use of the shrapnel shell was poorly understood and it was thought generally unreliable, largely due to its quirky fuse and the risk of premature explosion.

While modern writers seem fond of stating the Iron Duke thought it decisive at Waterloo, I find no credible evidence of that and believe it apocryphal or politically  motivated since the government officially adopted the round.  Accounts at the time describe it bursting short amongst friendly troops, others described it as being indifferent or ineffective.  A Lt. Col. Frith of the Madras Artillery wrote in 1818 that he had seen it fired into "large bodies of horse, among whom they were seen to burst, but cannot call to mind a single man killed by them." While there were battles, like the battle of Vimiero where the English claimed shrapnel shells contributed to the victory, reports from the receiving side were mixed ranging from their effect being terrible to no worse than that of round shot.  Others said the effect varied from round to round.  The truth probably lies in some middle ground.

Despite slow acceptance (according to books of the early-mid 1800's,) Henry Shrapnel received a stipend for his invention when it was officially adopted and the British government made Shrapnel Shell the official name of the "spherical cased shot" projectile in 1854 after his family petitioned for the name change to honor the inventor.

Improvements in the fuse, particularly by Col. E.M. Boxer, and case design continued.

According to Bormann in "The Shrapnel Shell in England and in Belgium," 1862, the most notable use of the shrapnel shell to date was during the Crimean War on the last day of the siege of Sebastopol, 8 September 1855.  Officers in a gun position manned by men of the Royal Naval Brigade, decided to utilize shrapnel shells found in the battery stores.   Eyewitness accounts reported these 8-inch shells "mowed down...whole lines of Russian troops as they sprang to the breast works."

A mere 60 years passed from the siege of Sebastopol to the start of the Loos offensive.  During this period much effort was put forth to improve the shrapnel shell. Fuses were vastly improved.  The cases for shrapnel projectiles were designed, refined, redesigned and further refined making the shrapnel delivery pattern increasingly effective.

While originally an anti-personnel weapon, usage changed during the Great War. The shrapnel shell was found useful in barrages for cutting barbed wire prior to assaults, and as an early anti-aircraft shell. Shrapnel shells spurred the development and use of modern helmets and aircraft armor.

Typically delivered by high velocity guns like the British 18 pounder, the French 75mm, and the German 10cm, the shells would give little notice of their arrival. There would be a quick "whizzzz" followed by a sharp "bang!" The German slang for these rounds was "Ratsch-bum," the Brits called them "Whizz-bangs."

Fortunately, for my blog, someone around the time of the War to End All Wars was kind enough to invent a cocktail named for that high velocity shrapnel shell---the "Whizz Bang." Sadly, since the winners write the histories, there is no Hagelkugel or Ratsch-bum to savor, though the Germans paid homage indirectly to old Henry by creating a "Schrapnel-Aufschlag" or "Shrapnel Charge." As the Hagelkugel predated the Shrapnel Shell, the Schrapnel-Aufschlag predates the Whizz Bang by several years. 

Unfortunately, the Schrapnel-Aufschlag is not nearly as good a drink as the Whizz Bang and, like the Hagelkugel, condemned to oblivion.

What’s In A Name – The Florodora

I have missed two blogs since my last due to familial obligations and found myself today casting about for a theme to get me back on track.  Since I have an interest in the origin of drinks, and their names, I thought I would borrow from a previous effort and use the title “What’s In A Name” with the related drink(s) appended.  If this works, I may do more in the future.

In the early 1900's, preceded by the operettas of the 1880's, the American public became enamored with musical comedy.  The play Floradora receives much of the credit for this craze.  A popular play in England in 1899, Florodora opened in the Casino Theater of New York in 1900.  

The play involves the imaginary island of Florodora on which a perfume of the same name is made.  Said island was stolen from its rightful owner whose daughter still works in a factory on the island.  The rest of the plot is convoluted to the extreme but the cast, chorus line, and music seem to have compensated successfully.  A feature of the theater was a manikin in the lobby spraying “La Flor de Florodora” on the theatergoers.

After a slow initial start, publicists started promoting the play in a manner seen repeated by the movie studios in their heyday.  TV news coverage of the Kardashians pales to that given the Florodora troupe.  Newspapers featured daily stories about the cast members, their personal lives, how well they regarded one another and worked together, their romances and marriage prospects, and of the huge sums of money that the chorus girls were making by speculating on Wall Street.  To the latter, one has to wonder if their fiduciary success was due more to the stage door sugar daddies than Wall Street, but maybe I have seen too many old movies.  Ultimately, Florodora exceeded 500 performances.

Florodora was the first  musical comedy to use the device of “stunning” fashionable evening gowns, worn by attractive women, to create a memorable high point in a performance, a trend continued in the Follies of the 1920’s and 30’s.  Women would go to see the latest fashions, men to see attractively dressed women. 

At the time, the music was considered “bewitching,” and people were often heard humming or whistling the tunes.  Leslie Stuart, the composer, said his formula for writing the music of Florodora was to:

“…take one memory of Christy Minstrels, let it simmer in the brain for twenty years.  Add slowly for the music an organist’s practice in arranging Gregorian chants for the Roman Catholic Church.  Mix well and serve with a half dozen pretty girls and an equal number of well-dressed men.”

The original “Florodora sextette” or the “big six,” none over 5’4”, was so popular with the American public that chorus girls for years afterwards, claimed to have been part of the original sextette. Francis Belmont, an original “sextetter,” in true movie showgirl fashion, managed to marry an English duke.

Florodora, its music, and its stars were immensely popular in the early 1900's.  Like movie related marketing today, the musical comedy became linked to a variety of products.  A soft drink in Cuba, race horses and pedigreed dogs, assorted food products, china, dolls, cigars (“three for 10 cents”) and a hybrid long staple cotton named Florodora were but a few.  Having a fondness for ice cream, one of my favorites is the “Florodora Sundae” – 1 banana, strawberry ice cream, strawberry fruit, nuts, and whipped cream.

In 1920, there was a revival of Florodora, with more chorus girls, and more lavish costumes and staging.  It was so popular that Fannie Brice was inspired to do a parody in the Follies.

Riding its second wave of popularity, it once again gave advertisers a useful marketing hook.  Florodora actresses modeled veils in Cosmopolitan magazine.  A massage vibrator was advertised to help women achieve “Florodora” beauty and sponsored a Florodora beauty contest.  Use of “Florodora” in marketing persisted into the 1930’s, as both a product name, and as a derogatory expression for something passé from a previous era.  There was also a movie entitled “The Florodora Girl.”

In my books, there are at least three "Florodora" related recipes.  The first two, the Florodora cocktail and the Florodora Fizz, from a 1913 text, are the earliest recipes I have found.  The Florodora Fizz definitely predates the book. 

A 1902 advertising magazine, The Advisor, states “The Florodora Fizz has replaced the Ping Pong Punch as the fashionable drink of the season.”  

The Florodora Cooler, easiest for the home bar, is from a publication of the 1930’s.  It is probably a Prohibition era drink being gin based, its other ingredients doing well to make the “bathtub” gins of the Roaring Twenties more palatable.

My Imaginary Packard

As mentioned in a previous blog, in 1965 my father bought me a 1951 Dodge "B" series pickup truck.  It was a well-used farm vehicle and I was kept busy looking for used parts, nominally better than its existing components.  This necessitated outings to junkyards filled with interesting vehicles of all description, as well as farm and industrial machinery.  Expeditions to these emporiums of cast-offs were as enjoyable as any amusement park.  I was able to find and remove the parts desired, and had the opportunity to “salvage” fair bit of pocket change.  While scavenging parts, I would run my hand through the space between the seat back and bottom of the old bench seats and usually come up with a bit of coin---not to mention the odd bit of filth.

While my friends were interested cars like the '57 Chevy, the Mustang, and even the Corvair, I had a penchant for anything odd, massive, and quirky.  For that matter, I still do.

In one salvage yard near Carthage, NY, there was a smallish 1920's fire engine that the owner said he would sell for $300.  The red paint and gold lettering were still shiny, the chrome bright, and it was replete with a bell and a chrome radiator cap with a glass thermometer.  The only thing it lacked was ladders.  Unfortunately, $300 was no more easily available than $3000.  Sometimes one has to be content to admire from afar.

My old Dodge was reliable.  It ran as well at 15 below zero as it did at 85F.  Most problems were not difficult to resolve and it would run fine with the cheapest grade of gasoline available, which was sometimes as low as 74 octane.  The truck was meant for work, not for youthful bravado.  It wouldn’t "burn rubber"---except in reverse.  Never the less, it was all mine and just the ticket for fishing or rabbit hunting.

The single most annoying problem was the gearshift.  The "three on the tree" had an "L"-shaped crank at the bottom that operated the shift linkage to the transmission.  The serrated hole in the crank, that secured it to the shift column, was stripped and it would slip, no matter how tightly I torqued the nut, leaving me stuck in, or out, of gear.

Having saved up some money, working as a stock clerk in the Camp Drum Post Exchange, I finally decided to have it repaired.  The nearest garage was in the village of Black River.

Smelling of dust and petroleum products, with an exposed wood beamed ceiling, decorated with the usual "cheese cake" calendars put out by auto parts companies, and with well used tools hanging on the walls, it looked like a movie set for the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.  My kind of place.

At the time, the owner/mechanic seemed old, though in hindsight he was probably in his 50's.  He was also friendly, helpful, and cheap.  After explaining that the part was no longer available, he said to give him a day and he would see what he could do.  When I returned, he explained that he had braised over the stripped out serrations in the crank and hand-filed new ones, charging me less than $25.  The repair worked fine.  Twenty years later, I benefitted from his explaining this field-expedient repair, using it to fix a similar problem on an arbor press.

While my Dodge, the mechanic, and the garage are all history, they are not the reason I recall the visit.  In the dim, back corner of that old garage, against the right wall, there was a hulking form covered by a dusty tarpaulin.  When I asked what was under the canvas, the mechanic took me over and removed the tarp.  It was a 1936 Packard sedan with a "straight eight."  The car was big, black, dusty, and had the ominous grace of a dreadnought.  That behemoth sparked my imagination.  I asked how much he wanted for it, laughable today since I had no  prospects of having funds and there is no way my father could have been talked into being involved in such a bit of whimsy.  The shop owner said it was not for sale and that it had a cracked block anyway.  The End.

Well, not quite the end.  From that time forward, I have had a nagging desire for a 1936 Packard sedan.  Marriage, children, jobs, age, and a singular lack of ability to focus on anything for any length of time, have all conspired to move me from "cool" and "fun" vehicles (in my eye, not necessarily that of others) to more reliable, and less interesting transportation.  I drive a Toyota Tundra, my spouse a Buick Enclave.  Both are good, solid transportation and more reliable than anything made in the 20th century.  Still, while our cars are good, I would not use "great" in any sense of the word.  That "great" Packard only exists when I daydream about what I would do, or could have done, if I were single and fancy free---about as likely as flying pigs.

There are two vintage cocktails, the Twin Six and the Packard Twins (yep, an engine not a pair of porn stars,) named for another masterpiece of Packard engineering, the "Twin Six," a V-12 engine which was to be later replaced in popularity by the “Single Eight”.  First produced for the 1916 model year, there were 24,000 vehicles with Twin Six Engines manufactured by 1920.  In that same year, Packard announced that they would double production of the Twin Six.  True to Robert Burns comment on the plans of mice and men, sales of the Twin plummeted between 1920 and 1924 with sales of about only 11,000 Twin Six equipped vehicles during that time.

So, let us raise a toast to Packard for giving us the stuff of dreams.

Fancy Drinks and How to Make Them, 1935

The Savoy Cocktail Book, 1930

All Life Is An Experiment – Start with your next beer!

Have you ever thought about a random topic and wondered how far back you have had connections with, or memories related to said item?

Dusting off the cobwebs in the back of my mind, I have memories regarding beer going back to about 10 years old.  No, I didn't drink it then. My father made an attempt at home brew.  My memory is of beer running on the laundry room floor after bottles, stacked in cases, seemed to have burst in sympathetic detonation.  That was the end of home brew in our house.

Later, in the early 1960’s when I was 16, I bussed tables in a regimental beer hall in Camp Drum, New York (now Fort Drum.)  My father, HQ S-3,  arranged for my under-age hiring. The building was a long, low clap-board affair dating to the Second World War.  The beer hall was only open in the summer months, catering to the reservists coming to train at the camp's extensive ranges.  There was row after row of tables, usually piled high with beer cans. I would sweep the beer cans, and plastic cups, many of which still contained beer, into a large, plastic bag lined, steel trash can.  When the bag was full, I would take it from the can and throw it over-hand into a huge dumpster that was taller than I, resulting in my being constantly showered with stale beer.

Two summers later, I worked as a truckers helper for a Falstaff distributor in Leavenworth, Kansas.  That job was pretty cushy. A goodly part of the workday was spent traveling to rural taverns and bars scattered over a wide area.  Falstaff is an old American beer that I doubt many people miss today.

As a college student, in El Paso, Texas, my friends and I would drink Carte Blanca and Dos Equis in Juarez, and have kegs of Bud or Coors at "beer busts" on the banks of the Rio Grande.  When we wanted something "classy" at our favorite pizza restaurant, the Village Inn, we would have a Lowenbraü. At that time, we also thought Lancers and Mateuse Rose were great wines, evidence our youthful tastes were very unsophisticated.

Al, Ft. Riley Kansas 1951

My father in law, Al, bought whatever was cheap at the package store on post. I shared many an Old Milwaukee or Meisterbrau with him until, in his 60's a meddling Veterans Administration physician convinced him that his daily beer was bad for him.

Beer, in my past seemed to have been just plain beer.  Lagers, ales, pilsners, 3.2 "near beer", wheat beers, or stouts, good or bad it was just "beer flavored" beer. 

Today, with the world getting smaller, we are blessed in having easy access to beers of all types, both foreign and  domestic. For this reason, my taste for "American lawn cutting beer," as I once heard a German braumeister describe it, has plummeted over the last 30 years. 

Today, there is an interesting trend in American beer that would have probably failed in the not too distant past. It seems there is a rush to see what flavors can be added to beer. We have  lemon, lime, apricot, pumpkin, peach, clamato, chocolate, raspberry, grapefruit, and green chile beer—just to name a few.

If I may draw a conclusion based on the stores I frequent, this is an almost wholly American phenomena.  I have tried all of those mentioned once.  I did not find any that were good enough to buy a second time.

Beer-based drinks have long existed in England and Germany. While there are a few seen in the US today, for example the Michelada and Red Beer (both of which are excellent if you make your own), one wonders if the trend here for fairly tasteless, pre-packaged flavored beers, is because people are too lazy to "roll their own". While a number of the beers produced are OK, there are several that are poor imitations of flavored sparkling water.  Thinking of big “B” now.

With the increasing popularity of "flavored" beers, I thought I would offer up some of my favorite beer-based recipes, or what the Germans call “biermischungen.”  Taking time to make your beverage is a sure way to increase your pleasure as you savor your efforts. Making your own also let's you titrate the mix to your own taste.

First, the Dog's Nose,  is simply a glass of ale with a dash of gin.  This drink dates to the early 1800’s. According to various texts, it was favored by British sailors and coachmen. This is also an easy drink to enjoy at your favorite watering hole.  I order a glass of ale with a shot of gin on the side and build it myself.

Shandygaff, another English potable is 1/2 ale or lager and 1/2 ginger beer or ginger ale.  A recipe from the 1880’s specifies “One pint of bitter beer, and a bottle of old fashioned ginger beer mixed together and only imbibed on the hottest summer days after rowing.” A nice, light summer cooler.  It dates as far back as the 1600’s.  Served in venues as dissimilar as inns and tea gardens, it was often paired with cheese and biscuit and considered a refreshing drink for walkers and bicyclists.

The Maulesel (Mule) is Germany's answer to the Dog's Nose. Like the others listed here, it is a quick recipe. Add about 1 oz gin and 1 oz. lemon juice (juice of 1/2 a lemon) to a beer glass and fill with beer. I have no idea how old this is, but it is great with bratwurst and sauerkraut.

A Berlinerweisse is a “biermichunge” that is definitely on the fruity side.  Add about 1 oz. raspberry syrup to a beer glass and fill with hefeweizen. I prefer Monin raspberry syrup.  If you use Steinhager instead of raspberry syrup, you have a Berlinerweisse mit Strippe (with stripper.)  If  beer with fruit overtones appeals to you, try a bit of any of the Monin syrups, but go lightly.  You will get some interesting results.  If you do not want to buy, or use, an expensive German hefewiesen, you can substitute Blue Moon with decent results.

The Radler (Bicyclist) seems to be a 1950’s or 60’s innovation.  One story says that  a group of bicyclists stopped at a gasthaus and the owner, not having enough beer, mixed it with lemonade.  The Radler is 50/50 mix of beer and lemonade. Best with a marzenbier or lager. I use San Pelligrino Limonata or Aranciata, as the lemonade, since they are not too sweet and lend a nice citrus tang.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said: “All life is an experiment.  The more experiments you make the better.”  In addition to buying some of the “flavored” concoctions coming from the brewers, try your own. You might be surprised.