Lately I've been fascinated by the rise of rye within cocktail circles. Sure, absinthe is back, but, in my opinion, that won't last. America doesn't like black liquorish and soon they'll all figure out that you have to drink a heck of a lot of the green fairy before you actually start seeing any. Rye, on the other hand, is a fad that's here to stay. Why?
1. Nationalism. Canadian whiskey has held the place of rye in cocktails since post-prohibition but there was a blip in that trend: the nineteen forties, when rye saw a bit of a resurgence as it was liberally drank by Humphrey Bogart in the Big Sleep. What was happening then? A war. What's happening now? The dollar is slipping (lower than the Canadian dollar) and there's a war. Here's where I can get behind nationalism. Americans should drink American.
2. Taste. Yes, it actually tastes good. Peppery, bit of caramel, a bit more bite than its bourbon cousin. My favorite way to drink it thus far is in a drink I had a bar/mild form of speakeasy (there's no password or anything, it just doesn't look nice on the outside, no offense guys) called Green St. Grill up in Cambridge, MA. The drink is called a Daisy Black. It's Overholt Rye (if I was making one at home I'd use Tuthilltown, just to keep it local), fresh lemon juice and honey syrup. I know, it sounds like a cure for a sore throat, and maybe it is, but it's also delicious. Simple and clean but with a subtle peppery smoke from the rye. And now that I'm talking about it I want one...stupid conventions telling me I can't have a drink instead of toast or coffee for breakfast.
3. It's brown. Now, I don't want to sound like I'm stereotyping here, but if a man is going to have a cocktail, for the most part, it's not going to be an appletini. In fact, most likely, it's not going to be any sort of "tini" unless it's the original martini (extra olives if you're me, I know I'm a girl so it doesn't add to my argument but I'm just saying, you know, in case anyone feels like buying me a drink...lots of olives, big ones). Anyway, rye is brown and when made into its most ubiquitous form, a Manhattan, it is still brown and that's manly. Heck, throw a cherry in there and it's still manly. Why? Because the cherry is not there for you to eat men (sorry), it's there for you to offer to the lady next to you in a suave Bogarty kind of way that could lead to delightful conversation and possible, ahem, relations. Unless that girl is me. I don't like maraschino cherries. I don't understand them. Just offer me olives.
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