With all the summer heat, it’s been time for the rum drinks. In particularly, I’ve grown really fond of aged rum lately. White, golden and dark rums are familiar to most (avoid spiced rum unless you want to bring back your guest’s memories of college hangovers past), but aged rum is as different from these as a good muscovado sugar is from white and brown sugar. Like whiskey, it is full bodied and complex. Like brandy it is adaptable and a great base for cocktails. What’s more, it’s relatively inexpensive: a top-of-the-line bottle can set you back forty dollars or so, but you can find decent blends for much cheaper. Seemingly every country abutting the Caribbean produces some type of aged, or añejo, rum, and it’s possible to pick up an excellent bottle of 8-to-12 year aged liquor for under twenty dollars. For the time being, the consumer can benefit from aged rum’s distinct untrendiness.

Which brands? It’s worth experimenting to see which flavor suits you best, but given how few Boston bars seem to stock more than one or two bottles of aged rum, that’s a difficult task. Bacardi 8 tastes too peaty and harsh for my taste. Haiti’s Rhum Babancourt has a more straightforward alcohol kick than I’d like, at least in the lower denominated ages. My workhorse favorite is the widely available Jamaican Appleton Estates blend, which to me has the right caramelly, oaky balance. The pocketbook has kept me from venturing far into high end territory – I’ve had Sea Wynde (Jamaican) and it is great – but if you want great value for a superlative rum, I’d highly recommend Ron Zacapa 12-year, from Guatemala, which is surprisingly affordable, if hard to find. (Try Wine Emporium in Brookline.) It’s just as good sipping as mixed, and I shudder to think how wonderful their more expensive 25-year version would be. I’d love to hear any reader recommendations.

How should one serve aged rum? The finest rums are great served neat or on the rocks, but cocktails made from aged rum are too delicious to pass up. Its flavor is more assertive than white rum, but within reason can be used interchangeably in recipes. My favorite, borrowing from my sour orange margarita, is a modified daiquiri using sour oranges instead of limes and a good quality curaçao (like Grand Marnier) instead of maraschino liqueur or Cointreau. It’s light and fruity and robust at the same time.

Sour Orange Daiquiri

Makes 2 cocktails in 5 oz. martini glasses

Juice of one sour orange (or more if the orange is not very juicy)
Few generous dashes simple sugar syrup
4 jiggers (6 oz.) aged rum
1 jigger (1 1/2 oz.) Grand Marnier or good quality curaçao
Orange slice or twist, for garnish

If you do not have sugar syrup on hand, just make some ahead of time; boil equal amounts of sugar and water together until sugar dissolves and a light syrup forms. Cool, then refrigerate. Chill cocktail glasses. In cocktail shaker, add ice, then the main ingredients listed. Shake thoroughly to mix and chill. Pour into glasses and garnish with an orange slice or twist.

If you’re looking for a lighter mixed drink, I’d recommend an Añejo Highball that Dale De Groff concocted: ice, a couple dashes of bitters, lime juice, curaçao, aged rum, then topped off with ginger beer. It’s sweet, but the ginger counters with a bite, the rum with a kick. For the ginger beer itself, stick with Jamaican brands (Stop and Shop at Brigham Circle carries D&G) or the domestic natural food labels; Goya is all bite and no aroma and makes a shoddy drink. My only complaint was that such a fantastic drink had such a pedestrian name, so my friends and I rechristened it the Ginger Rogers. A couple of them, and I’m sure you and your guests can come up with your own silly name for it.

Ginger Rogers
(a/k/a Añejo Highball)
from Dale DeGroff

Makes 1 drink

2 dashes Angostura bitters
Juice of 1/2 lime
1/2 jigger (3/4 oz.) Grand Marnier or good quality curaçao
1 jigger (1 1/2 oz.) aged rum
Jamaican ginger beer to fill
Mint sprig or piece of sugar cane, for garnish

Fill a highball or tall cooler glass with ice. Coat ice with bitters, then squeeze lime, dropping in spent shell. Add liquors, then top with the ginger beer. Garnish with mint or sugar cane.

Wine Emporium is located on Rt. 9 at Cyprus Street in Brookline, near the Brookline Hills T stop.

Having friends over yesterday evening, I wondered what I’d serve. I wanted something nice and refreshing, given the summer weather we’re having. I decided on a perennial favorite of mine, margaritas.

I tend to think of the margarita as one of two drinks. The first, is the traditional limeade-y mixed drink served on the rocks in sombrero-shaped margarita glasses. The second is a stronger cocktail version served straight up in a cocktail glass. I like both, but since the former is most people’s idea of a margarita let me start there.

For a well-made traditional Tex-Mex margarita, I’m not a purist about type of tequila (one can spend lots of money, if one wants, but Cuervo or Sauza Gold are fine with me), but I insist that the drink be made with fresh lime juice. Like I’ve said, making a margarita with sour mix is like making a screwdriver with Tang. Squeezing the limes means a bit more work, but the difference is immeasurable. It’ll take a lot of limes, too, maybe 10 or more for a pitcher, so find an affordable source. I get mine either at Hispanic markets/produce stands, at Chinatown, or at Haymarket, where you can get ten for a dollar instead of one for 75 cents.

The recipe I use is adapted from a Rick Bayless recipe. The trick is soaking the ingredients with lime zest (see photo), which gives a nice depth of flavor. His recipe is quite strong, so I highly recommend taking my proportions (which have half the alcohol), if you don’t want to be knocked on your ass. Trust me on this.

Margaritas on the Rocks
Adapted from Rick Bayless’s Mexican Kitchen
makes one pitcher (8 cups)

2 1/2 c. tequila
1/2 c. Grand Marnier
1 1/2 c. (heaping) fresh lime juice
grated zest of 4 limes
1 c. sugar
3 c. water
Lime wedges, garnish
Coarse salt (I use kosher salt) for rims

In a large non-metal bowl, combine all ingredients except garnish and stir to dissolve sugar. Cover and refrigerate for a few hours to steep. Strain into serving pitcher. The margaritas are ready to serve on the rocks, in glasses rimmed with salt, as your guests desire.

Can you use Cointreau or an other orange liqueur? Certainly, and I often do depending on what I have available, but I think the brandy notes of the Grand Marnier work best. In any case, stick to the twenty-dollar a bottle rule and avoid the cheap triple sec if you can.

The homemade version of the margarita, done right, is such a wonderful, sublime drink that it puts to shame much of what Boston bars and restaurants serve under the name. In fact, I almost never order the drink out.

Angostura bitters are a wonderful ingredient – a necessity for any home bar and an item not used enough these days. But in the original days of the cocktail (pre-Prohibition) a number of proprietary bitters were on the market. Today, a couple commercially produced bitters remain… Angostura, Peychaud’s (most famous for its use in the Sazerac) and orange bitters. Angostura is available in the supermarket even, Fee Brothers orange bitters you can get at a couple places in Boston (Marty’s and I believe Liquorland), while Peychaud’s isn’t sold here.

Well, it turns out making bitters at home is not all that difficult. All you need to do is to infuse a high-proof spirit with a combination of citrus, spices and herbs, then dilute to get to a reasonable proof. Much like making limoncello. It probably won’t have the same shelf life as a store-bought bottle (I keep mine in the fridge), but its freshness will be noticeable.

The easiest place to start is orange bitters. Traditional recipes may call for spices, I don’t know, but I used simply the zest of the sour orange. For some reason these fruit aren’t generally popular, but Hispanic markets stock these (I get mine at Hi-Lo Market, or at the fruit stands near Jackson Square in Jamaica Plain).

Orange Bitters
Makes scant 1/3 cup
Zest of two sour orange (naranga agria)
4 T. 151-proof rum, or high-proof spirit of choice

Macerate zest and spices in liquor for a week, covered in the refrigerator. Strain into small jar. Add a two tablespoons pure water to dilute.

The result? The bitterness was accentuated over the Fee Brothers, but more importantly the floral scent of the orange was fresher and more powerful. I definitely prefer the homemade.

Even more successful was a grapefruit based recipe I created and called Jamacian bitters, not because they’re actually a Jamaican recipe, but because the spices and flavors are those you’d find in Jamaican cooking.

Jamaicain Bitters
Makes scant 1/4 cup
Zest of one grapefruit
one slice fresh ginger
few berries allspice
few whole cloves
1/2 in. of true cinnamon (canela) stick
1/4 t. black peppercorns
3 T. 151-proof rum, or high-proof spirit of choice

Macerate zest and spices in liquor for a week, covered in the refrigerator. Strain into small jar. Add a tablespoon or so of pure water to dilute.

A note on spices: you can improvise on the ingredients, of course, but be careful not to overwhelm with any one note. Ginger, for one, can be overpowering if too much is used. And use in moderation, if you can find it, true cinnamon (soft cinnamon, or canela), whose flavor is far milder than the Red-Hot-tasting cassia bark that’s sold in the U.S. as cinnamon. Hispanic markets like JP’s Hi-Lo and International sections of supermarkets sell whole canela; or, check out Polcari’s in the North End.

How to use these homemade bitters? Well, you can use the orange bitters in any recipe calling for them… I use a tad more in the recipe than I would with storebought, as the flavor is less saturated. But if you want a drink to really let these shine, particularly the Jamaican Bitters, I’d recommend the simple summer highball, the Gin Rickey.

Gin Rickey

1/2 juicy lime
1 jigger dry gin
Club soda
Several dashes citrus bitters

Fill highball glass with ice. Coat ice with bitters. Squeeze lime and drop in spent shell. Add gin, then top with club soda. Stir briefly.

As is, the rickey is a lovely mixed drink, the unfairly overlooked homely cousin to the gin and tonic. The bitters are my addition, not traditional, but try them and I think you’ll find that they pick up an understated drink and take it somewhere interesting.

One of the most refreshing warm-weather drinks I can imagine in Pimm’s Cup. Pimm’s No. 1 is an herbal-infused gin spirit, but it tastes nothing like gin, nor is it overly herbally or bitter. The closest relative to flavor I can point to would be angostura bitters – clove-y and slightly sweet. Made in England and long associated with the upper class there, it used to be produced in eight varieties, each with a different base spirit, but now is made in three, only one of which is distributed in any quality: the traditional Pimm’s No.1, consumed almost strictly in the simple, exquisite Pimm’s Cup.

Pimm’s Cup is merely Pimm’s No.1, lemon soda, citrus and cucumber slices. British “lemonade” is traditional, but since I can’t find a reasonably priced brand of the stuff here, I use Sprite, whose blandness works well against the liqueur. Originally a punch, it works equally well as a highball, the recipe for which follows. Equally suited for a picnic along the Charles as it is for punting on the Thames.

Pimm’s No. 1 Cup
Sprite or other lemon soda
Citrus slices (always lemon, lime and orange optional)
Couple cucumber slices
Mint spring, optional

Fill highball glass with ice. Fill a third the way with Pimm’s, top with Sprite and add garnishes. Stir briefly.

I’m going to have to punt a bit on this Mixology Monday. I didn’t get around to experimenting with anise or to shopping for some true French pastis, so I don’t have much more to add from my recent post on anise liqueur. In general, I’m still learning to acquire the taste. To that end, I find that citrus helps cut the sugary sweetness. A lot. If you can’t find the limon dulce I referenced before, here’s a simple drink to make with readily available ingredients:

Anise Rickey

1 jigger anise liqueur (I used ouzo)
juice of one lime
Club soda

Fill highball glass with ice. Squeeze in lime and add liqueur. Top with club soda and garnish with lime wedge.

Unorthodox maybe, but not bad. I’m more eager, however, to try the more exciting offerings of the fellow mixologists. And that Henri Bardouin sounds amazing, even if I am a sucker for Ricard’s image and packaging.

I never really go out to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. The loutish crowds, the naff green beer… well, tonight, I’ll be safely at home with friends for a quiet drink in. An Evacuation Day celebration, if you will.

What’s more, I do not gravitate toward Irish drinks, the occasional Guinness aside. Inspired by the New York Times tasters, however, I ‘ve decided to take a break from my usual Southern-bred preferance for bourbon and venture into the world of Irish whiskey. I got a bottle of Power’s that was smoothly flavored and not very expensive, even if you won’t confuse it with the best. A Collins drink struck me as the best treatment for such middle-quality whiskey. It’s my vote for St. Patrick’s fare.

Mike Collins
1 - 1 1/2 jiggers Irish whiskey
juice of 1/2 lemon
2 t. sugar or couple of dashes sugar syrup
Club soda

If using granulated sugar, use a shaker to combine all ingredients except club soda. Shake well and pour into highball glass with ice. Top with soda and garnish with lime wedge. If using simple syrup, you can stir directly in glass before adding ice and soda.

Note that with Collins drinks - as with sours - real, freshly squeezed lemon juice makes all the difference. There are no acceptable shortcuts, and sour mix definitely will not do. For that reason, I’d never order them out, except at the most top-of-the-line bars.