BraudiaGM: Mixing it up

Granted: Cocktail Mixology On The Seas

Observations of a well traveled writer Nick Grant, aboard the Queen Victoria

Photos and connective links below article

“To make the perfect martini, the vermouth is just a wave on the top of the glass,” says Esteff, our cocktail mixologist.

The Blonde and I had met Esteff at the bar last night when he served us drinks. It had been well past midnight and most of the passengers and crew of the Queen Victoria had turned in. The Blonde, being herself the extrovert, got the three of us talking. Esteff had come from a mysterious destination within South America, hidden by my gin.

Esteff worked as a bartender in the hottest climates and the brightest nightlives for nearly a decade, until finally deciding to walk across the gangplank and board the outlandish floating, thrilling cities of Cunard’s cruise liners. Esteff told us that his idea for a fruity cocktail he dubbed the “Inception” had successfully got him the job as the Queen Victoria’s resident mixologist, and invited us to a demonstration he was holding in the Commodores’ Club the next day.

The Blonde said what a lovely offer, we’d be there, no question. I said I would, hangover permitting.

Hangover permitting or not, my fogginess and the exaggerated movement of the ship were not immovable objects enough in the face of an unstoppable, champagne-haired force.

The Commodores’ Club is carpeted navy blue, equipped with the best bar onboard and furnished with two-dozen plush, leather seats and a couple dark lounges at the port and starboard corners of the deck. There are also two pianos. As far as the view goes, which is to the horizon, every seat has the best seat in the house. We arrived late and found Esteff delivering his demonstration and talking about "the wave of vermouth."

The starboard lounge-space had been cleared for the occasion. A small number of people sat in an exact number of spaciously placed chairs facing Esteff and a mountainous table of liquors. There were two empty seats in the middle of everyone. I sagged around the shoulders. The Blonde looked at me, put on a smile, and walked gaily into the club. I followed her lead and we smiled and nodded idiotically at each person we passed to our seats.

We take our seats and Esteff smiles at us; we’re just in time to try the classic dry martini he’s made: Tanqueray 10 for the gin, a dash of Noilly Prat vermouth, stirred and olive garnished. It’s good. It’s damn dry. A few of the tasters cough and I imagine the people in front of us making sour faces. A tall, burly American sitting with his son in the pair of chairs to our left makes an agreeable noise.

The next cocktail Esteff demonstrates is called “Cool as A Cucumber”. It’s the sweetest cocktail I’ve ever tried.

2 oz Hendricks Gin

1 oz Sour Apple Schnapps

1/ oz Sweet and Sour mix

¼ oz Sugar Syrup

3x ¼ Thick Cucumber Slices

Muddle the cucumber with Sugar Syrup and Sweet and Sour mix. Top with spirits.

Shake and strain with ice. Add a cucumber wheel and sugar the rim of the glass.

“This is for different occasions,” says Esteff, “and for sure I think you’ll like. Perfect for a first drink at a wedding.”

Esteff picks up a bottle of Hendricks and asks each pair of people what they thought about the use of Hendricks Gin in the Cool as a Cucumber compared to the Tanqueray in the Martini. Everyone is animated and the opinion is nearly unanimous.

“I prefer the Hendricks,” the three pairs in front of us say.

“I prefer it as well,” say the pair to our right.

Esteff puts the bottle back on the table and tugs on his red uniform. “We use the Hendricks in this recipe because it is perfect with everything. It matches with everything. And you, sir?”

The American next to us brusquely says, “I preferred the first one. The second one is too sweet.” Small conversations stop. “As you can tell, I hated it.”

The young couple behind us are silent. A few people in the front turn their heads and grimace at the American’s frankness. Esteff smiles and placates. I try not to laugh and The Blonde tries not spray a mouthful of sweet liquor.

Esteff demonstrates two more cocktails, the Manhattan and the Molecular Cosmo. The Manhattan is well know and a staple of most cocktail menus, but if you prefer to search out drinks that certainly don’t fit into the spectrum of tradition, the Molecular Cosmo is something you should try simply for the texture of its Cointreau foam.

1.5 oz Grey Goose Citron

1.5 oz Cranberry Juice

A lime wedge

Shake and strain finely. Top with Cranberry and Cointreau foam and add a lime twist.

Esteff finishes the demonstration and we sit tasting the different cocktails, knocking back the significant remainders of our glasses of Dry Martini and Manhattan's we hadn't finished or been encouraged too. Everyone is flushed and a middle-aged woman in the front row keeps hitting on a salt-and-pepper-haired married man. Salt and Pepper man recoils, she is all over him like a cobra to a mouse.

The Blonde has reached her limit, but wants to make sure we get good notes on the flavour and the texture of each mixture. I can no longer feel my face or my tongue.

Esteff's voice breaks above the chatter. He goes around the room asking the tasters' opinions until he reaches The American. We all sit in anticipation of another spectacle. All heads turn in the direction of his multiple chins.

"So, obviously you preferred the first one," opens Esteff, "but did you like any of the others?"

The American squares Esteff up. "No, I only liked the first one."

"So do you feel like you got anything out of this class?"

"Yeah, the first drink."

The Blonde and I try to contain ourselves.

On the way out, lurching and larkish, we overhear the The American and his son.

"I really liked the cucumber one, Dad," says the kid lightly.

The big man scolds the boy with a clammy glare. "Grow up and be a man; you should have liked the first one!"

The Blonde and I can't. We simply can't.

So remember, if you’re considering cocktails, be a man… and do the right thing.

Order the classic dry martini, a favourite for hypermasculinity, the world over.

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