In the Land of Cocktails

Ninety-Nine Bottles Of Booze On The Wall

Posted by on January 19th, 2011

I know, the song is about beer, but a recent trip to our local ware­house liquor store got me to think­ing.  I was bask­ing in the glow of hav­ing put a box of booze in the trunk and I thought, “I won­der how many bot­tles of booze I have on the wall.”  Well, you know, on the wall, on the shelf, in the pantry, on the floor.

First, I had to decide what I would count as “booze.”  I mean, it doesn’t seem fair to count beer or wine since hav­ing a lot of that is really no indi­ca­tion of any­thing except a recent trip to the gro­cery store.  On the other hand, I did count ver­mouth (both sweet and dry) because I don’t know any­one who drinks that like wine.  Ver­mouth is an ingre­di­ent for cock­tails so it counts.  I didn’t count port or sherry, but I did count my bot­tle of Lil­let because I only use as part of a cock­tail (Ves­per).  I also didn’t count mini bot­tles that I prob­a­bly got as a stock­ing stuffer or as some gim­mick.  And no repeats.  I’m of Irish descent and peo­ple think I must love Bailey’s Irish cream.  Yet two unopened bot­tles sit in the cup­board while the third has been barely cracked.  It only counts as one bot­tle.  So, gath­er­ing focus here, how many dif­fer­ent bot­tles of real booze are stashed away in the house?

The answer: 95.  Not quite 99, but pretty damn close.  Now, you’d prob­a­bly say that’s a lot, but, for a pro­fes­sional bar­tender, not beyond the pale.  I’m not a pro­fes­sional bar­tender.  I’ve tended bar at events, but I only do it for friend­ship, not money.  And I’m a mem­ber of a bar, but do not work at one.  I’m a “cock­tail enthu­si­ast” as some would say.  Oth­ers would say “a drunk.”  I’m the guy who’s always mak­ing the drinks, and yes, sip­ping them too.

You’re think­ing, “What the hell kind of booze does this guy have?”  Here’s the break­down in descend­ing order: 38 Mis­cel­la­neous; 11 Scotch whisky (sic); 10 Vodka; two-way tie with 9 bot­tles each of Rum and Brandy/Cognac; 8 Gin; 4 Irish whiskey; 3 Rye whiskey; 2 Bour­bon whiskey; and 1 Tequila.  “Mis­cel­la­neous” is all those liqueurs, that “other” stuff, the Gal­liano, the Midori, the Coin­treau, and the afore­men­tioned Bailey’s.  Basi­cally, every­thing that isn’t Whiskey, Brandy, Gin, Rum, Tequila, or Vodka.

Aside from the mis­cel­la­neous, the biggest cat­e­gory would be Whiskey far and away if you bunched the Scotch with the Irish and the oth­ers, but I’m a bit of a Whiskey snob so I pre­fer to treat and keep them sep­a­rate.  And even then, Scotch wins among those.  On the other hand, I’m not a Brandy snob, so I lumped it together with Cognac.

And what the hell is with one bot­tle of Tequila?  I live in south­ern Cal­i­for­nia after all, where mar­gar­i­tas are served like water.  Babies are weaned on agave nec­tar.  Well, I didn’t have a bad expe­ri­ence with tequila if that’s what you’re thinking—you were pro­ject­ing there weren’t you?  No, I have drank a small bathtub’s worth of mar­gar­i­tas, but I got sick of poorly made ones, which is usu­ally what you get.  I make an awe­some one by the way.

Now, it would be too bor­ing to list my 95 bot­tles of booze, so instead, here are some high­lights, with some expla­na­tion of what I got them for:

Tallest bot­tle: Mex­taca 5-star Greek brandy.  For: Drink­ing neat, even in the sum­mer, as when I vis­ited Greece.  How­ever, I have fond mem­o­ries of an absurdly tall bot­tle of Belvedere vodka that was a gift from friends.  It was much taller than the Mex­taca, but it was also a pain to fit in the freezer.

Short­est bot­tle: Cham­bord.  For: Van Gogh’s Anti-Insanity Lemon Tonic, a great lay­ered drink made with vodka, lemon­ade, and Cham­bord.  Per­fect for sum­mer bar­be­cues.  But despite its name (Anti–Insan­ity), it can eas­ily make you go crazy as it’s one of those drinks that catches up with you.

Best label: Ran­som gin.  For: Gin Crus­tas, Tom Collins, and more.  It’s a cool old-timey label, and I’m really into the pre-prohibition cock­tails right now, so that one strikes me as the most interesting.

Worst label: John D. Taylor’s Vel­vet Faler­num.  For: Tay­lor Made.  Not a lot of bour­bon fruit-punch drinks, and I wanted one for the Fourth of July and found this drink in Dale DeGroff’s Essen­tial Cock­tail.  Now I also use the Faler­num in hur­ri­canes.  But the label is so generic that I hes­i­tated to buy it.  Just proves the old maxim, you can’t judge a bot­tle by the label, or some­thing like that.

Strangest thing in bot­tle that isn’t booze: Vanilla bean in Avatea rum.  For: Drink­ing in any old rum drink.  I got this in the Caribbean on some trip there, and it has a full vanilla bean in the bot­tle, which gives the rum a great flavor.

Bot­tle that trav­eled the fur­thest: Amarula.  For: Drink­ing on the rocks.  We brought this back from our trip to Africa.  It’s kind of the African ver­sion of Bailey’s, and it’s made with fruit from the African Marula tree.  The fruit falls to the ground, it fer­ments, the ele­phants eat it, and get drunk.  How great is that?  I don’t even care if it’s true.  It became my wife’s drink of choice for our “sun­down­ers.”   I stuck with gin and tonic because the qui­nine in the tonic is sup­posed to help ward against mos­qui­tos.  Hey, I didn’t get any bites.

Bot­tle that trav­eled the least: Roth vodka.  For: A gift from a friend to make Mar­ti­nis.  It’s a grape based vodka from a win­ery in north­ern Cal­i­for­nia.  I’m more of a grain vodka man, but I’ve occa­sion­ally enjoyed Ciroc, another grape based vodka.  As for the Roth, I think they should prob­a­bly stick to wines.

Old­est: tie between Creme de Cacao and Creme de Men­the.  For: Grasshop­pers.  These were my par­ents’ bot­tles, and some­where along the way I ended up with them.  And yes, I have made grasshop­pers with them, and they turned out good.  Still, it’s not some­thing you drink a lot, or get a lot of call for.

Newest: Tech­ni­cally, this would be like an eight-way tie, but I’m arbi­trar­ily pick­ing the Laird’s Apple­jack because it’s the most unusual thing I got in my last shop­ping spree that I hadn’t bought before.  For: Jack Rose and Widow’s Kiss.  It’s the only domes­tic apple brandy that I know of and essen­tial to the Jack Rose, which also has grena­dine and lime juice.  Sur­pris­ingly good cock­tail.  I haven’t tried the Widow’s Kiss yet because it calls for some­thing I don’t have, yel­low char­treuse (yes, there are things I don’t have Mr. Sar­casm).  A close sec­ond for newest is the bot­tle of Cruzan Black Strap rum that I just bought for hot milk punches.

Most expen­sive: Johnny Walker Scotch Whisky Blue Label.  For: Drink­ing neat, or with a touch of water.  It was a well-appreciated birth­day gift from a cousin.  I wouldn’t spend that much on a bot­tle for myself, so it’s nice when some­one else does.

Least expen­sive: Gordon’s gin.  For: Mar­ti­nis.  Some­times I just want a plain Mar­tini with some­thing inex­pen­sive that isn’t so cheap it will give me a hang­over.  Gordon’s fits the bill.

Bot­tle that was ille­gal when I got it but isn’t now: Absinthe.  For: Drink­ing with sugar and water in the tra­di­tional man­ner.  I got this in Paris when it was ille­gal to have in the U.S. and some­how it made it home with me.  It turns out I don’t like absinthe all that much though.  I use it now to coat the glass when I make a saz­erac.  It’s per­fect for that.  With absinthe, a lit­tle goes a long way.

Bot­tle that is prob­a­bly still ille­gal: Havana Club 7-year gold rum.  For: All rum drinks or neat.  It’s ille­gal to import Cuban rum, so you can’t buy this in the states.  Some friends brought it back from Mex­ico for me.  It’s one rea­son to end the embargo.  I’m just saying.

Worst bot­tle: Dekuypers Sour Apple Pucker.  For: Sour Apple Mar­ti­nis.  Some­thing green for the non-drinker’s to drink at a St. Paddy’s Day party.  I didn’t have any of those mar­ti­nis, and it still makes me shudder.

Best bot­tle: 94-way tie, every­thing except the Apple Pucker.  Ask­ing for a favorite is like ask­ing which child is your favorite.  They all have a time and place when they shine.  They all have a spe­cial place in my heart (and, I sus­pect, a time-share in my liver).  Seri­ously though, they remind me of my trav­els and the great times spent with fam­ily and friends.  For that, they are each trea­sured.  Except for that Pucker—that stuff is nasty.

Lance Win­ters spends his days as a crim­i­nal pros­e­cu­tor on the mean streets of Los Ange­les and his nights as an cock­tail enthu­si­ast and ama­teur mixol­o­gist with his wife and friends at the beach.  He occa­sion­ally regales his drink­ing adven­tures in 140-character tweets as @devilsbartender.