Since it was raining when I left work today, my normal carefree saunter across the parking lot became a sodden bedraggled slog as my right shoe became less footwear and more rainwater receptacle with each bottomless puddle, unseen until I was ankle deep. This naturally put me in the jolliest of moods, but two things lifted my spirits: it’s Friday, which means it’s cocktail night, and the Lady Friend isn’t here, as she’s packing the remnants of her apartment, leaving me without proper adult supervision on an evening when I don’t have to be up in the morning.

This can be dangerous.

So, I began scheming various schemes while checking the obligatory social media feeds and happened across this:

Now, I’m not saying I was actively looking for Elizabeth Banks because the Lady Friend isn’t here. It was purely a coincidence. Seriously. I promise. For reals.

But it was a happy coincidence. They don’t usually put ugly people in makeup ads.

Elizabeth Banks is an actress best known for being in every other tv show and movie evar. Seriously, check out the list. Some of her mainstream roles were JD’s knocked-up girlfriend in Scrubs, Jack Donaghy’s badass girlfriend in 30 Rock, and the crazy chick in the thong in The 40 Year Old Virgin.

What was I talking about?

RIGHT. Cocktails. Drink blog. Back on target.

So apparently, Elizabeth has a blog. At least, that’s where the link took me. She posted a recipe for a drink called the Pirate Slave, which certainly seemed like an interesting one. She got it over at Imbibe, and THEY got it from a bar in Philly called The Franklin Mortgage and Investment Co., but I’m going to credit her, because that’s where I saw it first. Since I hadn’t picked out a Rule 37 cocktail for the week yet, this seemed like it was going to be it. With a few adjustments.

The recipe calls for Rhum Agricole, which is a somewhat harsher, earthier, grassier kind of rum. The good stuff comes from Martinique, and it’s made from sugar cane juice, where RUM rum is made from molasses. Except I don’t have any Rhum Agricole. I’m not that hardcore about rum. Yet. But I DO have some cachaça (say it “KA-SHAH-SAH” and you’ll be pretty close) which is a rum-like spirit made from sugar cane juice. It’s the national spirit of Brazil, and is most commonly found in a drink called a Caiprinha. But it’s grassy and rummy, so I think it’ll work here until I can get my hands on some real Agricole.

Other substitutions: Punt e Mes is a strong, fancy vermouth that I also don’t have. So I’ll be using Martini & Rossi Rosso. I didn’t have any of Gaz Regan’s orange bitters, so a double-dash of Fee Brothers will have to suffice. I threw in a teaspoon of raw sugar instead of the cane specified. Prob should have used raw syrup, but the granules add a little excitement to the mixture.

Yes, since technically I’ve gone and changed the ingredients of the cocktail, it becomes a different cocktail. Maybe I’ll just call it a Pirate Slavé. Close enough. My house, my rules. When YOU have a drinking blog, you can bend the rules too.


Pirate Slavé
From the lovely Elizabeth Banks.
Recipe here. Also here.

– 2 oz Rhum Agricole (Cachaça 51 used)
– 3/4 oz Punt e Mes (M&R Rosso used)
– 1/2 oz Campari (yes, I have Campari)
– 1 tsp. cane syrup (just a dash. Use simple syrup, or even better, raw syrup)
– 1 dash Regans’ orange bitters (used Fee Bros)
– 1 dash Fee Bros. orange bitters (yup)

Dump it all into a mixing glass filled with ice. There’s no fruit juice here, so it’ll be STIRRED. Strain into a double Old Fashioned glass with a large chunkola of ice. Garnish with a flamed orange peel.


Well, it LOOKS cool. But most things served in a DOF glass with one giant piece of ice look cool. Let’s get to it.


The aroma reeks of bitter orange (I suspect, from the orange bitters, duh) and grassy cachaça. I’m sure the giant swath of orange peel is also contributing some of that citrus, but the dominating olfactory impression is that cachaça: astringent, sharp grassiness, a touch of sour, and even a grape-like essence. This should be wild. Taste time.

Well shiver me timbers. It’s not half bad. I expected much more fire from the untamed spirit, but there’s a lot at play here. The Campari bittersweet comes though in the flavor, though not much at all in the aroma. It mingles with that grassy, slightly medicinal sourness of the cachaça. A touch of vermouth really helps to smooth things out, and overall the concoction leaves a dry, yearning sensation in the mouth, especially towards the back corners of the tongue. A drink that makes you thirstier, though another sip puts the saliva glands into Defcon 3. The orange bitters open things up with a stinging citrus allowing the slightly syruped Campari-vermouth mixture to ooze across the tongue. Meanwhile, the cachaça bounces around the room, from the cheeks, to the roof of the mouth, tingling the gums and eventually leaving everything slightly molested with its flavor.


This is an interesting one. It really livens things up, and I’m glad I have that giant chunk of ice in there. The large piece of ice will melt slower than many smaller pieces, so it lasts longer and dilutes less. Perfect for a complex sipper like this one.

Thanks, Elizabeth.
(Call me)