Yesterday was John Cleese’s birthday (along with my daughter’s, as it happens), and so a perfect time to bring out his Spamalot cocktail.

John Cleese

• 1.5 oz. Cognac
• 1.0 oz. dry vermouth (Martini)
• 0.5 oz. Jagermeister
• 0.5 oz. honey syrup*

Stir and strain into coupe rinsed with peaty Scotch (Laphroaig 10).

* For honey syrup, heat equal parts honey and water, reducing slightly.

For Mr. Cleese, I went with an international theme. The Cognac is for the French Taunter in Holy Grail, but could equally be for others, like the waiter in Meaning of Life. The vermouth, much needed in this drink to open it up a bit from the other, sweeter elements, must be an Italian dry like Martini. I put this in for A Fish Called Wanda, as his character of Archie is fluent in Italian and uses this (along with Russian) in a hilarious scene with Jamie Lee Curtis. The Jagermeister is German, but DON’T MENTION THE WAR! It adds a sweetness and bit of an anise hint to the drink. More sweetness comes from the honey syrup, a nod to Eric the Half-a-bee.

If I could have put a silly walk into the drink I would have done that as well.

For cocktail #2 from the Spamalot collection, I turned to the Python who appeared less in front of the camera yet whose illustration and animation defined a good part of the feel of Flying Circus, Terry Gilliam.

Terry Gilliam

• 2.0 oz. Cachaça
• 0.5 oz. lime juice
• 0.5 oz. Coke syrup*
• 0.25 oz. cream of coconut

Shake with ice and strain into ice filled old fashioned.

* For Coke syrup, reduce Coca-cola over heat by half.

As Terry Gilliam has since Python days moved on to establish himself as a unique and talented director, I wanted to start with a base spirit that payed homage to that, and to his masterpiece, in my opinion, Brazil. Enter the sugarcane-based Cachaça, national spirit of Brazil. To this I added lime juice, following a similar path to a Caipirinha, but then added reduced Coke syrup for sweetness as opposed to sugar (and moving in the direction of a Cuba Libre).

There is some thematic thread here as well. I wanted to take a distinctly American product like Coke, since Mr. Gilliam has that origin, and then throw in the lime for his later adoption of Great Britain as home (c’mon, you didn’t think I could get through six Monty Python cocktails without a single Limey reference, did you?).

In addition, I wanted to represent his illustration and animation, a tough task for a drink. Then it came to me to flatten the carbonated soda, a nod to his 2D animation style.

The cream of coconut, of course, is all Holy Grail. Imported by swallows, I believe.

For the Spamalot cocktails, I thought I would focus on the Pythons themselves, not on the show necessarily, drawing from their work both within and outside the troupe. That would give me six cocktails and wealth of sources to draw from. And I started with the “It’s…” Man himself.

Michael Palin

• 1.5 oz. Irish whiskey
• 1.5 oz. Amontillado sherry
• 0.5 oz. Sugar Maple liqueur
• pinch of Himalayan salt

I started with an Irish whiskey base (Jameson’s 12) as Mr. Palin has some Irish roots which he explored in some of his travel series. I also wanted something for his Catholic father from Meaning of Life, and thought an Irish whiskey could be fitting. To this I added some Spanish sherry, which might be unexpected …but “No one expects the Spanish inquisition!” For sweetness, in came the Sugar Maple liqueur, I am sure a favorite of lumberjacks everywhere, and I finished up with pink Himalayan salt, an additional nod to Mr. Palin’s travelogues, one of which was a trip through the Himalayas.

Now must be off. My brain hurts!

I was issued a challenge and gifted an ingredient: Marmite in a cocktail. For those of you not familiar, Marmite is a yeast extract popular in England, often spread thinly on toast. It is strong. Pungent. An acquired taste at best. A cocktail is probably not your first thought on tasting it (unless that thought is to mask the taste).

Not one to back down, I took the Marmite (Marmite Gold as it turned out, a special edition with gold leaf) and after many unsuccessful iterations present Great Scot.

Great Scot

• 2.0 oz. Old Tom Gin
• 1.0 oz. Yellow Chartreuse
• 0.25-0.5 oz. Marmite simple syrup*

Stir with ice and strain into coupe.

* For the simple syrup, reduce 2 cups of water with 2 tablespoons brown sugar and 2 teaspoons of Marmite.

The idea here was not to mask the Marmite flavor, but really to highlight it. If you don’t like Marmite, chances are you will not like this drink. It is certainly more savory than sweet, as I think is appropriate.

Initially, I started down the road with Mezcal, thinking it might pair nicely. It really didn’t. I also had trouble with the Marmite, as it hardened when mixed with liquid into a sort of hard Marmite candy. To get around this I reduced it in some boiling water along with some brown sugar. My house stunk.

After a couple attempts with Mezcal, I tried Old Tom Gin, a slightly sweetened gin, and that worked much better. The Yellow Chartreuse’s herbal qualities I thought played nicely with the Marmite, certainly keeping it featured but toning it slightly down.

The name is a nod to the issuer of the challenge, and hopefully (perhaps only) drinker of the cocktail. A fun challenge. An odd drink.

For my single Roar of the Greasepaint cocktail, I wanted something elevated and something common. I thought I might go with some wine in the mix — there is certainly enough consumed by the characters in the show — but also thought gin made sense for the more common element and couldn’t see the wine working out. In the end, I decided on a half and half recipe representing the two main characters of Sir and Cocky.

Then, of course, came finding the name. There are a number of delightful phrases in the book that could probably fill a bar menu: All Due Respect, Towering Eyeful, Ars Ex Libris, Purple Fit, St. Clarence the Stutterer (or St. Vitus the Uninhibited), Your Move, I could go on and on. The color of the drink recommends The Green-eyed Monster, also spoken in the show, but as that is a reference from Othello it didn’t seem right.

In the end I kept returning to the Unparalleled Philistine, an insult from Sir to Cocky that Cocky misinterprets as a compliment, and a nice phrase of duality to match the ingredients of the drink.

Unparalleled Philistine

• 1.5 oz. G’vine Gin (or use a London Dry)
• 1.5 oz. Green Chartreuse (use VEP if you got it)
• 2 dashes lactart

Stir with lots of ice (needs a good dilution here) and strain into coupe.

Here is common gin (Cocky) mixed with a higher end herbal liqueur (Sir) with a few dashes of lactart (just gives a tartness to a drink — like citric acid from juice without the juice). A London Dry like Beefeater or Gordon’s would probably be more appropriate, but the G’vine here is a nod to the wine in the show (G’vine comes from grapes) and I felt played well with the Chartreuse. The lactart is actually a little bit of acid as a nod to the character of The Kid in the show, Sir’s apprentice and taunter of Cocky.

Cocky does a lot of guzzling in the show. This is definitely one for sipping. With all due respect.

OK, I thought I was done with the Light in the Piazza cocktails, but then I saw a limoncello with the label Fabrizia on it. Fabrizio is the name of the young lover in the show, so I couldn’t pass it up. Thus:

The Flying Hat

• 1.5 oz. Fabrizia limoncello
• 0.75 oz. lemon juice
• 0.5 oz. Herbe di Amalfi Basil liqueur
• 1 barspoon Fernet Branca
• 2 dashes grapefruit bitters

Stir with ice and straing into a champagne flute.
Top with 3.0 oz. American sparkling wine.
Garnish with a half grape on a toothpick.

Once more, stuck to Italian mixers mostly. Basil, lemon, a nice tart sweetness. The Fernet cuts into that just enough. The sparkling wine is American for the character of Clara, but you can top with whatever you’d like, obviously.

The grape is the hat, if not so obviously.

I had a request from a friend and cast member of the Light in the Piazza to create a drink specifically for him, with the only request being for it to be sweet. As this individual was playing Signor Naccarelli, I produced something I felt appropriate for such a gentleman.

Il Signore

• 1.5 oz. Carpano Antica sweet vermouth
• 1.0 oz. Cognac
• 0.5 oz. Amaretto
• 0.5 oz. Cynar

Stir with ice and strain into a coupe.
Garnish with a pinch of salt.

For the most part I stuck with Italy, with the base being a rich Italian vermouth. To this I added Cognac (just over the border, right?), some Amaretto for more sweetness and nuttiness, and the Cynar for some needed bitterness. I love myself some saltiness with sweet, so the pinch of salt enhanced the final composition for me.

I don’t go for overly sweet drinks myself usually, but found this one offered a richness that still appealed to me. And I’d take this dessert any day over a bowl of ice cream.

For the next Light in the Piazza cocktail, we now move from the Italian locales to Winston-Salem, North Carolina, “the land of corduroys,” according to Clara in the show.

The Corduroy

• 1.5 oz. Midnight Moon moonshine
• 1.0 oz. Cocci Americano
• 0.75 oz. Root liquor
• 0.5 oz. Bittermens Hiver Amer
• 2 dashes Smoke Gets In Your Eyes bitters

Stir with ice and strain into old fashioned glass over ice.
Garnish with an orange peel.

Here I used unaged American whiskey, good ol’ moonshine, for the base. To that I added Cocci Americano as a nod to Italian setting of the show. This brightens the drink up a bit, which is needed after adding the rich Root liqueur, which is smoky and thick with spices like cinnamon and clove and allspice. The bitterness in the Cocci wasn’t enough, so I put in the Hiver Amer as well, which also has strong cinnamon notes. The Smoke Gets In Your Eyes contributes even more smoke, which I felt appropriate for such a cigarette center.

I suppose this should contain a Surgeon General’s warning as well.

Getting back (finally!) to my Light in the Piazza cocktails, the next locale featured after Florence is Rome. I happened to have a huge bottle of Sambuca that I have barely touched (like many of my unused bottles, I purchased it for a recipe, but found I generally wasn’t a fan). So my mission here was to make a drink I liked with an ingredient I normally wouldn’t. Thus, the Roman Ruin.

Roman Ruin

• 1.0 oz. Sambuca
• 1.0 oz. Aperol
• 0.5 oz. Espresso liqueur
• 0.5 oz. lemon juice

Shake with ice and strain into ice-filled Collins glass.
Top with 2.0 oz. of club soda.

There are of course the traditional three coffee beans served in Sambuca, so as a nod to that I mixed the Sambuca with an espresso liqueur. Very sweet. The Italian Aperol helped to cut that a bit with bitter, and the lemon juice offered a much needed acidity and brightness. Such a strong drink, taste-wise, is not diluted much — and is actually helped quite a bit — by the club soda to top.

I still won’t be reaching for the Sambuca with any frequency, but when I do I think all roads will lead to this.

Mixology Monday is here once again! After taking a break last month, I’m back this month to tackle a fiery challenge, as presented at Feu de Vie:

Tiki-philes have their flaming spent lime shells and scorpion bowls. Classic cocktailers have the magic of a flamed orange zest. Molecular mixologists have their Smoking Guns. (and yes, frat boys have their flaming shots.) Even brunchtime drinkers have spicy Bloody Marys.

You don’t have to go full Blue Blazer, not nearly — heck, you could go full Fireball Whiskey! (or Fire Rock Pale Ale, etc..) You could riff on the Old Flame or come up with an inventive name of your own. You could even use a good firewater or burned wine. (and if you’re grilling fruit, save some for me, will ya?)

In essence, bring the heat! Bring the Fire! Bring your inspiration!

On a serious note: remember that lass in Britain who lost her stomach because the mixologists weren’t in control of the dangerous elements they were using in a cocktail? Let’s have none of that here, huh? There’s a lot more to Fire than just the electrochemical reactions happening on the end of a lit match. Stay safe and trust your gut about what you’re comfortable doing. We’re all here to have fun.

Now, I have a Smoking Gun and a chef’s torch that I’ve recently used in drinks for Young Frankenstein, so I didn’t want to head straight to those. I have used sriracha and tabasco in past recipes as well and I’ve infused with habaneros and jalepeños, too. So to get away from what I’ve done in the past (and, to be quite honest, I’m not a huge FAN of spicy drinks), I headed to the liquor store and grabbed a bottle of Fire Eater, a cinnamon whiskey liqueur. And that brought me to Heathing (please forgive the cheesy flames — as my photo turned out blurry I thought well why not make the whole thing crash and burn):

Heathing

• 1.5 oz Fire Eater cinnamon whiskey liqueur
• 1.5 oz. pear liqueur (Mathilde)
• 0.5 oz. Campari
• 1 barspoon ginger honey balsamic
• 1 pinch Thai ginger salt

Stir with ice and strain into highball. Top with 3.0 oz. ginger ale (Q).

I pretty much always start with a standard base spirit, but for this, to counter the spiciness, and since it is outside the norm for me, I wanted to do a liqueur-based cocktail. Cinnamon and pear just sounded right to me, and to balance the sweetness I added a healthy dose of Campari. For some acid, I turned to a balsamic vinegar I had that also added ginger spiciness, and the salt enhanced all those flavors for me.

Originally, I used an extra dry ginger ale to top, and that was nice, but upon verification of the drink the next day I found I was out, so turned to a sweeter Q. Both offered nice end results, though I would probably opt for the less sweet, personally.

As for the name, I struggled a bit as the drink, although spicy, doesn’t earn the “fireball” sort of moniker. My children, though, were recently introduced to the movie Clue, so Madeline Kahn’s hilarious monologue describing the “flames.. flames.. on the side of my face” came to mind. I looked up the quote online and found that (at least in some accounts) she ends with “heaving breaths.. heathing…” before being cut off by Tim Curry. Whether the quote is right or wrong, Heathing it was.