Chasing Thown Cocktails
A Learning Journey in Six Chapters; Plus a Tribute to The Hat; and Odds and Ends.
I recently wrote something for the New York Times about the everything-old-is-new-again bartending technique of throwing cocktails. Throwing is an alternative to shaking and stirring that goes back centuries, but until recently it had been relegated to an antiquated cult activity practiced by only a handful of bars.
If you’ve seen that old illustration of mixology forefather Jerry Thomas tossing a Blue Blazer cocktail from one vessel to another before an appreciative crowd, you already have an idea what it is for a cocktail to be thrown. (The process is also called tossing and rolling by some, and the Cuban Roll). The bartender fills one mixing tin with the desired liquid ingredients and ice. Then, with a cocktail strainer snug within the rim of the tin, the mixologist holds the vessel high above their head and lets the liquid cascade into a second tin held in their other hand. Transferring the liquid back to the ice-filled tin, they perform the trick a few more times before straining the contents into a cocktail glass. The throughly aerated beverage, the practice’s advocates argue, has a lighter texture thanks to the introduction of many tiny bubbles. If shaking results in violent agitation and stirring produced a calm silky surface, throwing lies somewhere in between.
I’ve been watching with surprise and delight as throwing has lately gained a foothold in New York. For years, there was one only place that incorporated the technique into its repertoire: Dante, where they reserve throwing solely for their Martinis. Today, I can name a half dozen without thinking (Martiny’s, Milady’s, Nubelez, Bar Celona, Thyme Bar, El Quijote) and I’m sure there are many more I don’t yet know about. Bartender Marco Dionysos recently informed me via Twitter that a similar progression has happened in San Francisco, with PCH, Wildhawk and Comstock Saloon all throwing drinks.
I imagine my first exposure to throwing was seeing various bartenders execute a Blue Blazer at the annual Tales of the Cocktail convention in New Orleans. The preparation of that flaming drink is always a showstopper. But, at the time, it felt like a stunt, less a practical technique worthy of study than a historical exhibition, not unlike watching people dressed in old-timey garb churning butter at the outdoor pioneer museum.
It wasn’t until years later that I purchased my first commercially made thrown drink. And that happened completely by accident.