Bone in the throat

A friend announced that his favourite cocktails were the White Russian (vodka, Kahlua and milk/cream) and The Bone.

The what? I googled it and discovered it was invented by David Wondrich, apparently for the Chickenbone Café in Brooklyn. It’s one of those recipes that, once you’ve read it, you simply have to try—reader, I even went out and bought some Tabasco specially.*

It’s not an attractive drink. Even fine-strained it has a murky quality to it. You’ll notice that Wondrich does not specify anything like a garnish, just has you pour it into a shot glass, though as you can see I used something more foppish.

As you might expect from the proportions, it is mostly about the whiskey. (Wondrich specifies Wild Turkey rye 101-proof (50% alcohol), but I used Bulleit, which is a high-rye bourbon. But even in small quantities the other ingredients make their presence felt. The lime is clear, but not mouth-puckeringly sour, just fruity, while the sweetness of the sugar balances it and smooths the whiskey like in an Old Fashioned. And the odd thing
is that there is a suggestion of salt, even though there isn’t any. (Perhaps some knee-jerk part of my brain is thinking of tequila…)

And then there is the Tabasco. Don’t try this drink if you really don’t like spicy food, as three dashes is enough to pack a punch. Each sip is a journey, with whiskey up front, then the sweet and sour notes sort of slide round the side of your tongue, with that inexplicable saltiness bringing up the rear. You think that is it, but then the pepper sauce jumps out from behind a tree and delivers a sucker-punch. For something relatively simple it holds your attention from mouthful to mouthful, stimulating every part of your palate that it can find.

50ml Wild Turkey rye (or other 100-proof rye or bourbon)**
1 tsp fresh-squeezed lime juice
1 tsp simple syrup (made with equal parts sugar and water)
3 dashes Tabasco sauce
Strain into chilled tall shot glass and serve.

*  I was quite surprised to discover I didn’t have any—I always thought of Tabasco as one of those things like Angostura bitters that you never actually run out of. You just buy a bottle once, in your youth, and carry on using minuscule amounts now and then for the rest of your life. Although now I think about it, I do vaguely remember looking at the half-empty bottle I had before, doubtless with a price label in pre-decimal currency, its contents now a sort of grey colour, and thinking that maybe it was time to lay it to rest in the drains.

** In fact it looks as if Wild Turkey Rye in the UK is now only available at the 81 proof strength.