I’m going through a creative-cocktail phase that, according to Mrs. Banks, can’t end soon enough. “Please, just a gin and tonic will be fine,” she said the other night when I offered to whip her up a concoction called a “Provençal” I’d reverse-engineered after a visit to the bar at (two thumbs up, by the way) a few weekends ago. The Internet says a Provençal consists of lavender-infused gin, something called “vermouth de Provence,” and Cointreau. The cocktail menu at Boulevard 18 says the drink is a mix of rosemary-infused vodka, St. Germain, lemon juice, and soda. Don’t ask me to explain the disconnect. Maybe there’s another Provence somewhere else that I don’t know about. In any event, after several long nights of trial and error and half a bottle of aspirin I arrived at the following: pour 1½ ounces of rosemary-infused gin (not vodka; occasionally the Internet is on to something), 1 ounce St. Germain, and the juice of a lemon into a cocktail glass filled with ice. Shake and pour into an old-fashioned glass. What you end up with is highly refreshing; it will make you imagine what a mojito might taste like if it had been designed with grownups in mind. And so simple to make! The only complication is remembering to infuse the gin with the rosemary beforehand. But that’s not rocket science, either: buy a liter of gin, stick in a few sprigs of rosemary, and wait a few days. Duh.
But, as I say, Mrs. Banks is skeptical. “This is the whole Harvey Wallbanger thing all over again,” she told me, referring to a brief obsession I had a couple of summers ago that I still say had nothing to do with any alleged late-midlife crisis. “It was like drinking with Austin Powers every night.” That stung. But she has a point, of course. The appeal of my new favorite drink will eventually fade. It always does. (I can imagine myself years from now, combing through the back of my bar and finding an ancient bottle of herb-infused gin there next to the Galliano.) But I’m enjoying the moment while it lasts. As soon as the infused gin is used up, I’ll revert to Tanqueray and tonics, and peace will again reign in the house. Ahh, the simple things!
