The Ice Age of Drinking

In this month's "Doe's Were the Days," Chef George Krause takes us into the fruitful "ice age" of drinking. Read last month's installment, covering the pre-history of cocktails, here.

When Chef George Krause and I last left the topic of drinking, it was 1750 and gentlemen’s clubs, inns, and taverns ruled the roost, offering punches named after club owners and boasting a social atmosphere where alcoholic beverages were more than welcome.

But then came the increased convenience of transportation. With relatively quick cross-country trips available to the wealthy, the need for small-town inns faded. “People were going straight to the cities they wanted to be in,” said Krause.

Two strategies developed to part this new ilk of consumer, the Drinker, from his money. Did the Drinker want luxury? He need look no further than the majestic hotels cropping up around the country, which Krause described as “small palaces that they were building to get people with money to come drink.”

For the less moneyed, pubs and taprooms afforded citizens a local watering hole. The term “bar,” named for the cages that provided security to valuable liquor, was first documented in 1836, simplifying nomenclature in the coming years, as bartenders and bar<maids multiplied.

And while we have curious cavemen to thank for fire, it is Bostonian Frederick Tudor who brought us ice—or at least endeavored to make it widely available. In 1806, Tudor began harvesting ice from a lake north of Boston and cultivating methods for shipping the commodity further and further south. In 1806, he managed to ship it all the way to Martinique; in 1834, to Rio de Janeiro.

Quickly, people became accustomed to what ice could do to a drink. New tools abounded, from picks and chisels to a Louis bag, designed for crushing ice. When dentists advised that ice and teeth should never make contact, the cautious slurped their beverages through straws. ‘They were made of paper, but they worked,” said Krause.

1848 saw the advent of drink shakers. In the United States, the cocktail shaker consisted of a large silver cup fitted over a pint glass. The British, with their cobbler shakers, opted for a smaller silver cup that would slide inside the glass.

During this new “ice age,” innovations and inventions rippled forth like dominoes. The castor and julep spoons, unveiled in the 1860s, enabled bartenders to easily strain the ice from cocktails. In 1883, a Kansas City artisan was seen chilling his glasses. By 1893, chilled glasses were “the bartender’s best kept secret.”

But what about the drinks produced? Let’s start with the Tom Collins. “Not actually invented by a guy named Tom,” Krause pointed out. “His name was John.”

It’s not that Collins was a forgettable man. He brought the drink to popularity in the 1830s, when he was working as headwaiter at Limmer’s Old House in London. The initial concoction featured Holland gin (or genever.) When bartenders opted to use Old Tom gin, a drier spirit than the Holland version, the moniker “Old Tom Collins” developed, soon shortened to “Tom Collins.” Ironically, a subsequent “John Collins” drink recipe called for a substitution of bourbon.

The availability of ice down in muggy Cuba opened the door to daiquiris, named after the Daiquiri Nickel Mine. Jennings Cox, an American engineer working down in the mines, took pleasure in the country’s white rum, which hadn’t yet caught on in the States. Combined with fresh lime juice, ice, and sugar…voilà! A tropical favorite was born. “People use way too much sugar nowadays,” advised Krause, who serves a more authentic version of the cocktail at his bar.

This month Krause will also be serving up pink gin, consisting simply of gin and a dash of pink Angostura bitters. Ingredients like bitters and tonic came into vogue when sly bartenders turned to their medicine cabinets to mask the flavor of cheap liquor. In those days, the quality gin was flavored with juniper berries, and the not-so-quality versions tasted of turpentine. You can’t blame the bartenders for improvising.

No sign of turpentine at Doe’s Eat Place—just Chef George serving chilled, delectable, and authentic cocktails. Who knew history was so flavorful?

A recipe for the orignal Collins can be found here.