Around Town: Checking out mysteries of mixology

It was 4:45 p.m. on a hot Monday night in La Cañada Flintridge. I was at a pub decorated with local historical memorabilia and riding equipment, waiting for some friends.

It was Monday and the weekday Flintridge Proper Happy Hour had another 15 minutes to go.

Suddenly, a thin man approached, wearing a Brooks Brothers sport coat and an apron.

It was Skippy, the Proper’s secret bartender.

Don’t order from the Happy Hour menu, he said.

Why? I asked, perplexed. It’s a great menu. Five dollar drinks. Five dollar appetizers.

Try this, replied the publican. He pushed a threadbare brown book across the counter.

I could not believe my eyes. The anonymous tapster had just handed me an ancient text. The ultimate source. It was an authentic yet battered copy of the 1913 edition of Straub’s “Manual of Mixed Drinks.”

Seriously? I exclaimed. This is a mixologist’s bible!

Mixology is a pretentious concept, replied Skippy.

I had to admit that Skippy had a point. The Proper is famous for its classic cocktails, its fabulous gin collection and the ability to add a new twist here or there, but their skill set goes beyond mere mixology. Years from now, when all the mixologists are on the porch in their rocking chairs, in the distant future when robot drones bring us our drinks, the Proper bartenders will be a shining light in the morass that is American consumption.

Gone will be the supersized margaritas and ten-ton martinis. By 2030, history will not absolve the trendy yet uneducated pretty boy bartenders of Downtown Los Angeles (“DTLA”) and Silver Lake. The real bartenders will survive. Right here in La Cañada.

Skippy coughed and I looked down at a worn page. Page 10 of Straub’s manual contained a recipe for “The Aviation Cocktail.”

Eagerly, I began to read:

3/4 Jigger Apple Jack

½ Jigger Lime Juice

1 Dash Absinthe

1 Barspoonful of Grenadine

Shake.

OMG! I said. That’s totally WRONG!

Skippy nodded in agreement.

How could Straub’s mess up the recipe for the classic Aviation? What would the Wright Brothers say? Amelia must be turning, wherever she is.

It’s not the real Aviation, said Skippy.

With that, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out another book. It was a second edition of Ensslin’s 63-page “Recipes for Mixed Drinks.”

Hugo R. Ensslin was the head bartender of the Wallick Hotel, a 10-story hotel on Times Square in New York in the early 20th century. His guide was originally published or self-published one year earlier in 1916, but the 1917 edition was the last published U.S. bartending guide before Prohibition.

For those who’ve forgotten, Prohibition was an American ban on alcohol, based on a Constitutional amendment. From 1920 to 1933, the sale, production, importation, and transportation of alcoholic beverages was banned in the U.S.

Skippy handed me Ensslin’s book. I began to read:

Aviation Cocktail

1½ oz. El Bart gin,

¾ oz. lemon juice,

2 dashes maraschino liqueur,

2 dashes crème de violette.

That’s more like it, I said.

Skippy nodded.

But there was still another mystery to solve on this hot La Cañada Flintridge night.

What was crème de violette and how did Prohibition affect it?

To be continued...

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ANITA SUSAN BRENNER is a longtime La Cañada Flintridge resident and an attorney with Law Offices of Torres and Brenner in Pasadena. Email her at anitasusan.brenner@yahoo.com and follow her on Twitter @anitabrenner.