The Soothing Powers of Cognac

Cognac for Bastille Day (or any day, since every day is a new revolution)

I’m lucky to have a well-stocked home bar during this time in our lives. Let’s just say my stash puts the “abundance” in what has lately been prescribed as the correct amount of caution we should be using in most situations. I can choose from all kinds of drinks categories, but one that has been on the heaviest rotation chez Schuster since lockdown began in March is cognac.

I’ve taken to winding down my day with cognac, sipped neat, in a delicately etched brandy glass that was given to me in the 1990s, long before I would put it to proper use (but to that person with such uncanny foresight, merci!). I look forward to my late evening nightcap, allowing my brain, which spends so many hours of the day worrying and trying to sort out editorial responsibilities, plan home-cooked meals, and complete other tasks (and wipe down surfaces and wash all those damn dishes) (oh, and my hands, again and again), to finally shut down and enjoy the 2 fingers of lovely liquid in my glass. All I have to care about in that moment is to experience the weight of the cognac on my tongue, taste its voluptuous flavors, take in its calming aromas, and feel its connection to the earth.

If I prepare cocktails at the 5 PM-ish hour, when it’s time to watch Cheers or maybe chat online with a friend, family member or colleague, maybe that’s a different story. I “see” other spirits (or wine) at playtime.

Making cognac cocktails in uncertain times

Those first couple of months of lockdown in Brooklyn were bleak—chilly, grey, damp, eerie. I had no desire to make citrusy cocktails for Cheers time. What I did feel like doing was taking inventory of what I could make that was dark and boozy (if I wasn’t making a Martini or a Gibson). One day I discovered I had some good absinthe, and I suddenly had a massive craving for a Sazerac, which is a 19th century cocktail hailing from New Orleans that had historically been born as a cognac concoction, but later morphed into a rye-based one. I like drinking it using both (for reasons I explain below when you get to the recipe section). It had been years since I’d had one, and I welcomed it back into the repertoire.

It finally warmed up a bit by early May, and then I got to thinking about the Sidecar, which is a drink I thought I didn’t like. I was sent a cocktail kit to prepare one, and decided to give it another chance. Maybe if I made it to my own specs I’d like it. It turns out what I never liked was the excess sugar I had been served 9 times out of 10 if it was brought to me at a bar. So here was the one and only instance I didn’t miss bars and bartenders at all. My home Sidecar was refreshing and balanced, with the citrus and Cointreau drawing out the subtle perfumes of the cognac. It’s a damn fine drink if you don’t serve it in a sugar-rimmed glass or otherwise futz with it. (Recipe at end of the article.)

Et voilà! Frozen cognac! Photo by Amanda Schuster — *Et voilà*! Frozen cognac! Photo by Amanda Schuster

Frozen cognac? Mais, oui!

Then it got really warm in New York. Perhaps a little too warm. No amount of rain, or hail, seems to be effectively cooling us off (though the hail sure seems to be making the effort). I was still occasionally indulging in cognac neat at the end of the night, but a friend gave me the idea to try freezing it.

It sounded bonkers, but then I remembered the time whisky educator extraordinaire Spike McClure presented Johnnie Walker Gold Label to me frozen, and it was one of the loveliest drops ever—the whisky had gotten more viscous and fruity, and drank almost like a fine Sauternes. I don’t want that whisky any other way now. Because of the alcohol levels, neither whisky or cognac will freeze completely, but freezing will do things to it. Potentially cool things, pardon the pun.

So on a particularly steamy night, I found a small, empty bottle, filled it most of the way with cognac, and waited.

The result was phenomenal. I used a VS cognac (see here for what that designation means) that was very good sipped neat at room temperature anyway, but the freezing (3 hours does the trick) brought out all the bright, juicy stone fruit, dulce de leche and vanilla flavors, sending the earth and oak tones to the back palate. Plus it’s a fun visual with the patterns of frozen condensation collected along the bottle, and the slow, dramatic, honeyed pour as the liquid gently streams into the glass. You should try it!

Below is some of the cognac that’s been keeping me company in lockdown. Any of these would be great to have on hand for Bastille Day, but why only then?

Cognac to try

Delpech Fougerat VS: This is a modest estate that dates back to the 18th century located on 100 hectares straddling the Petite Champagne and Fins Bois zones. Ugni blanc grapes for this cognac are aged a minimum of 2 years. It’s a terrific neat sipper, but also a splendid candidate for that frozen summer treat I mentioned above, which makes it taste almost like a frozen peach melba. It made a delightful Stinger too (see below). (40% ABV, $40)

D’USSÉ VSOP: Yes, it’s the one endorsed by Jay Z, but this cognac, aged a minimum of 4 years, has also consistently won top medals in the NY International Spirits Competition for tasting more expensive than it is (typically around $55 at 40% ABV). I’m a huge fan of this one in just a plain old cognac n’ tonic, but I wouldn’t kick it out of a Sidecar or French 75 (see below) either. It likes citrus, which brings out its elegant fruitiness.

Jean-Luc Pasquet Organic 7 Year: This cognac is produced on a tiny estate that has been in Eraville in Grande Champagne since 1730. With a library of eaux-de-vie dating back to the 1800s, some fairly luxe releases can be found among the Pasquet range. But, I’m quite happy to sip anything from this producer. One could do much worse than this humble 7 Year, which explodes on the palate with ripe stone fruit, raspberry, green tea, anise, and a hint of pinecone. (40% ABV, $100)

a cognac cellar, photo © BNIC - Benoit Linero

Ferrand 10 Generations: Cognacs from Maison Ferrand have been in my collection since my Astor days in the early 2000s, when I first met present Master Blender Alexandre Gabriel. But the Ferrands themselves have been in the Charente town of Segonzac since the 15th century. This bottling celebrates 10 generations of the family, particularly Elie Ferrand the 8th, who was the first in the family to garner accolades for the family’s eaux-de-vie in the late 19th century. His great-granddaughter, known as “Mademoiselle Henriette”, is now in her mid-90s, and is the source of inspiration for this juicy blend from Gabriel that is released at a feisty 46% ABV. ($60)

Camus Îl De Ré Cliffside Cellar: One of the smallest and most distinct terroirs within the Cognac appellation is on this island in the Bois à Terrioirs Crus, on the west coast of France. Tasting marques from grapes grown in this region, so close to the sea, has been a true revelation. The maritime influence imparts a salty caramel character to the brandy. I will unashamedly admit there have been a few times I’ve said out loud to my empty apartment, “Camus, take me away!” before pouring out my calming nightcap. (40% ABV, $75)

Augier Océanique: Another cool maritime drop, this cognac, from what is considered the oldest house in the appellation (founded in 1643) is produced from grapes grown on Oléron Island, within Bois Ordinaires. It’s more rustic than the Camus, which is what I like about it. The maritime salinity mixes with an earthier, more brawny liquid. If the Camus is like salted caramel ice cream, the Océanique is like chocolate covered pretzels. (40% ABV, $55)

Rémy Tercet (the name refers to the first three lines that rhyme together in a poem) is the newest expression and highest proof in the Rémy product line at 42%. The bottling is a collaboration between Rémy Martin’s Cellar Master Baptiste Loiseau, Wine Master Francis Nadeau, and Master Distiller Jean-Marie Bernard, from grapes harvested in Petite and Grande Champagne. This is a much more bold and earthy Rémy than fans might be accustomed to, which makes me enjoy it even more because it’s such an outlier. ($110)

Bourgoin XO 22 Ans: This unique beauty hails from a 222 acre estate which has been producing cognac in the Charentais village of Tarsac since the 1930s. Bourgoin is committed to “natural” production methods, which in this sense means they stick to single cask bottlings at cask strength, with no filtration or any additives such as coloring or sugar/dosage. This eau de vie is made with 100% ugni blanc grapes grown in the Fins Bois, and spends time in micro-barrique, adding an extra kick of dirt (in the nicest possible way) to its bright and seductive flavors of malted chocolate, apricot, fresh fig, and black tea. (Sells for $140 per 375 mL bottle, ABV will differ by bottling, mine was 55.3% ABV.)

The recipes

Stinger

This has always been one of my favorite drinks because it works either as an apéritif to pep up the palate or as a digestif after a big meal, and it can be made as a full sized cocktail or scaled down as a mini for just a taste. Even though I don’t recall ever seeing proof of this in an episode, I always pictured Peggy Olson from Mad Men, played by Elizabeth Moss, ordering this deceptively strong, assertive, yet refreshing classic when she was out on the town with the Sterling Cooper agency boys. It’s one of those drinks which sounds like it could never work (they always seem to involve mint in some way don’t they?), but it’s insanely delicious if made properly.

For an extra treat, add a splash of good chocolate liqueur, which is not the proper way, but who’s looking these days?

2 oz cognac
.75 oz crème de menthe (I prefer Giffard Menthe Pastille)
Garnish: mint sprig, optional

Now here’s where things get controversial: The purists say you stir this because it’s all booze. However, if you really want to integrate the flavors properly, and also get it nice and cold, this is one of the rare instances where an all-booze drink benefits from a shake. So add ingredients to a cocktail tin. Shake until very well chilled, and serve either up in a chilled glass (my preference) or over crushed ice.

To make it snack sized, reduce measurements by half and serve up in a chilled cordial glass.

Sidecar

I don’t know who the modern bartending monster is who decided all Sidecars must be served in a glass rimmed with sugar, but they are so very wrong and deserve to have their bed pillow secretly sugared in their sleep on a hot night so they never do it again. No, no, no, that’s a Crusta. Same, family but different recipe. You rim it with sugar, that’s what you are making. Yet 2 out of 3 times I see a Sidecar, the glass has a sugar rim, which absolutely ruins what is otherwise a perfectly balanced libation that brings out the essence of the cognac, plus the sugar ruins my lipstick for the whole dang night! Check Harry Craddock’s Savoy Cocktail Book again, and any other classic book where the recipe is published and there is NO RIM in the instructions, just a chilled glass!!!!!

That out of the way, this is a calming, restorative drink that’s easy to make at home, and should be in everyone’s repertoire.

1.25 oz cognac (I tried this recently with Rémy Martin 1738 Accord Royal)
1 oz orange curaçao (typically made with Cointreau)
.5 oz fresh lemon juice
Garnish: lemon twist, expressed and discarded

Add all ingredients to a shaker with ice and shake until very cold and frothy. Strain into an equally cold cocktail glass. I personally don’t like the twist served in the drink, as I think it makes it too bitter. Just give the twist a bit of a quick, snappy squeeze to express the oils into the drink—don’t wipe it on the glass!—and discard.

Sazerac at Sunset

I don’t know if Nelson Mandela was a drinker, but the day he died, I wanted to honor his dedication to racial equity by drinking things that were either from equal parts ratios, like a Negroni, or split-base versions of drinks that have historically been made with either/or base spirits. The French 75 (see below) is one example, as some make it with cognac and others with gin, then add the sour and bubbly. But that day, December 5, 2013, I tried a Sazerac—which some insist should always be cognac based as a nod to its origins, and others proclaim must be rye based—with both cognac and rye. I have never wanted it served to me another way since.

I call this peaceful variation the “Sazerac at Sunset” because you can’t really argue with a good drink and a pretty view.

fact: cognac and jambon are delicious together! Photo © BNIC / Experience sur Mesure - Gabriel Chatenet

The classic method is to add an entire sugar cube, but I prefer a drier version with only half the sugar, especially since a decent cognac really amps up the flavors. Go ahead and add the full sugar cube if you prefer a sweeter drink.

a few drops of absinthe
2 dashes Peychaud’s bitters
½ to 1 whole sugar cube (or roughly ½ to 1 tsp)
1 oz rye whiskey
1 oz cognac
Garnish: lemon twist, discarded

Chill a rocks or Nick and Nora glass. Muddle the sugar with the Peychaud’s bitters in the bottom of a mixing glass. Add the cognac and rye to the mixing glass and stir with ice until well chilled. Swirl a bit of absinthe in the chilled glass and discard the excess. Strain the drink into the glass. Spritz the lemon oils into the drink and discard.

Cognac French 75

What better way to celebrate the 231st anniversary of a cultural revolution on July 14th than with cognac and bubbly? (OK, fine. The drink is named after a World War I weapon, but you get the point, well, instead of the blade.) I admit that I typically take this cocktail with gin—it’s correct either way—but I do love a well made cognac 75. For Bastille Day, in France referred to as La Fête Nationale Française, this is the way to go.

1.5 oz cognac
.5 oz fresh lemon juice
.5 oz simple syrup
French sparkling wine to top (i.e. Champagne or a Crémant, and no reason it can’t be rosé)

Shake the cognac, juice and syrup together with ice until integrated and cold. Pour into flute or wine glass. Top with bubbly. Garnish with lemon twist if desired.

Bonne Fête National - Égalité! Fraternité! Liberté!