Summertime is Gimlet Time

I don't know where you're reading this from, but here, it's hot. I'm
surrounded by a thick blanket of steamy heat, the kind that brings out
atavistic instincts in Southerners like me; I feel driven to seek out a
verandah (and possibly a ceiling fan) and sip iced tea and endeavor to
move as little as possible.

Alas, my ancient yearnings must (once again) be denied, as not only
do I have to work for a living (with all the wearing-of-pants that that
implies), I live in New York City, where items such as verandahs are in
short supply.

However, I have a cocktail shaker and, assuming I remember to fill
the trays, plenty of ice. As Embury said, cocktails "must be well-iced,"
ensuring an appropriately frigid sip to cool the throat and bring the
rest of the corpus to a more reasonable temperature.

The lethargy brought on by summer's heat means that I don't tend to
want to fuss too much. I love me a Corpse Reviver No. 2, but when I've
gotten home from a long day and have been packed in a subway car and am
feeling parched and gummy, I want something a little less painstaking.
I've been subsisting on cooling drinks that are relatively simple, but
nonetheless refreshing. The Americano. The Old-Fashioned. The Jack
Rose
. And, what I made for myself yesterday evening after I arrived home,
kissed the best gal, and showered off the stickiness: the Gimlet.

Raymond Chandler's take on the Gimlet from The Long Goodbye is of course well-known and deserves to be quoted here:

We sat in the corner bar at Victor's and drank gimlets. "They don't know how to make them here," he said. "What they call a gimlet is just some lime or lemon juice and gin with a dash of sugar and bitters. A real gimlet is half gin and half Rose's Lime Juice and nothing else. It beats martinis hollow."

It
truly is hard to beat the combination of gin and lime, though
Chandler's proportions aren't quite to my taste; they can lead to a
sticky-sweet drink, and isn't banishing stickiness the whole point of
this exercise? We need something appealingly incisive — like the
drink's namesake — to cut through the goo.

Now, I've noticed a few bars in Manhattan that tout their Gimlets
made with nothing but gin and fresh lime juice. Far be it from me to
decry any barkeep who squeezes their own citrus, but fresh lime juice in a Gimlet is a little spiky and too acidic for my tastes. So, I prefer it with a combination of Rose's and fresh. I tend to have to tinker with the proportions, given the acidity of the limes, but here's what I've been enjoying:

Gimlet

The Gimlet
  • 2 oz. gin (I used Hendrick's)
  • 1 oz. Rose's Lime Juice
  • 1/2 oz. fresh-squeezed lime juice
Shake and strain into a chilled cocktail glass, and garnish with a lime wheel, borage flower, or something equally appealing.

Comments

2 responses to “Summertime is Gimlet Time”

  1. Sitting here in Toronto drinking Caipirissimas made with Havana Club 5yo, which is close (and insert Cuban cigar line here)
    I love the Chandler Gimlet and drank a few in Buena Vista, Co, recently with our pal Suzanarama. The bar staff looked at me as if I was crazy when I ordered them.

  2. Sitting here in Toronto drinking Caipirissimas made with Havana Club 5yo, which is close (and insert Cuban cigar line here)
    I love the Chandler Gimlet and drank a few in Buena Vista, Co, recently with our pal Suzanarama. The bar staff looked at me as if I was crazy when I ordered them.

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