Oakhart Social — DRINK

Chalk it up to getting older, but these days we gravitate more toward woodsy, bitter flavors and have retreated from sweet. The gateway to our cocktail enlightenment many years ago - a lush Manhattan - now rides the bench with a few other sweet jams. We're sentimental about our booze fabric - how else to explain the thought we put into writing about it - so we don't take this sea change lightly.

Thankfully, we've found another gear in our cocktail engine and have put pedal to metal to explore its range. About a year ago, mezcal hitched a ride and became a welcome dark passenger. The sight of it on bar menus these days, often rotated as a base in classics, always grabs our eye. We dig the smoky sting and illicit way it dances with other spirits. How we see it, mezcal draws out the alter ego of a cocktail and injects the play with intrigue and a little danger. It's a set of brass knuckles on a guy wearing pleated khakis.

One thing that has not changed with age: we are always game for a Negroni. The go-to order sits at the tip of our tongue when we saddle up to any bar. Still, we like to show some respect for the mad science and love a joint’s barman puts into the cocktail list, so we open our minds and always peruse it with genuine anticipation and wonder.

At Oakhart Social, our study is rewarded when skimming eyes find the Negroni 3.0 and light the hell up.

Negroni 3.0

1 oz Broker’s Gin

1 oz Campari

1 oz Carpano Bianco

Rinse of Los Amantes Mezcal Joven

As we mentally unpack the list of ingredients, we find some intriguing components. For one, Carpano Bianco vermouth (white cousin to the sultry Antica) skews floral and perfume-y. And Broker’s Gin is heavy on the juniper berry taste, quite peppery. Campari fatigue set in for us long ago (at home we do Cappelletti or Meletti 1870 Bitter), but there's no denying its classic virtues. New to us is the Los Amantes Mezcal Joven.

Rubbing hands together, we gaze on as Brendan Cartin, Oakhart's beverage brains and brawn, works his craft with the sophisticated grit of a Porsche mechanic. When the fruit of his labor arrives, we lean in and draw a deep breath, catching smoky shades of citrus and violets on the nose. Then we taste, and instantly we're filled with a sense of outlaw lust, absolutely converted. The barbecued (charred) citrus of the mezcal delivers a 'shady character' layer beneath the lovely trifecta of bitter, spicy and floral flavors brought by the 1:1:1 players.

Momentarily we drift to a beach at dusk where, after a long day of surfing and sun worship, we gather with friends around a giant bonfire. Sun-kissed faces smile as a joint goes from one set of pinched fingers to the next. A bottle of aged rum is passed in tandem. The lingering bouquet on the moment is smoke, sunscreen, liquor breath and laughter. It's zen tainted perfectly with traces of vice and bad intention. We open our eyes to see Brendan nodding in our direction, like he knows where we just went.

If we're being honest, we're not that floored to encounter such a ballsy beverage here. As far as we're concerned, scrappy is Oakhart's middle name, which is to say, this shit is totally in character.

Brendan doesn't argue that point one bit and suggests that the renegade spirit creates the ideal culture for him. "Creativity with edge is definitely encouraged around here. It's like there's no such thing as a bad idea so long as it's pushing the limits in a smart way."

Pressed for insight on the inspiration for this jam, a mischievous smile spreads slowly across Brendan's face. "I love mezcal and the way it changes the character of a cocktail. There's something naughty about it, but not over-the-top. To me, this is a Negroni on spring break."

Sometimes a bad influence can be a really good thing, so here's to making Negroni Week just a little bit dicey at Oakhart Social.

I'm dangerously devoted to wormwood. Where will this obsession land me? On the side of Route 29 in handcuffs watching a cop drag boxes of obscure booze contraband from my car? At a midnight ATF raid of my home in the sleepy country hollow on the outskirts of town? Will that be enough to dam the river of booze I’ve carried across state lines and relegate me to sipping the rotgut likes of Martini & Rossi the rest of my days? I know too well from a few dodged campus police bullets back in the day that loose lips sink ships. Yet lately I rant in public about my illicit booze runs from Washington, DC to Charlottesville, VA. The way I see it, I’m a smelt hardly worth a roll in batter, let alone a plunge into that glorious hot oil. There are bigger fish to fry, so surely the authorities can’t be bothered by someone's elitist taste in vermouth. So I reload every couple of weeks when back in DC for business and act out this fantasy of being an old-timey bootlegger because, for better or worse, drinking these spirits has become a passion play.

Where did it begin? Not pointing any fingers, but I can trace it cleanly back to the hands of my friend and favorite cocktail pioneer, Jeff Faile. In the early days of a sterling career on the stick - Jeff is now beverage director for two of the top spots in DC, Pineapple & Pearls and Rose’s Luxury - his signature Manhattan at (recently shuttered) Palena has to be included in the rising tide of quality booze that elevated DC’s taste for legit cocktails. It was early 2011, winter, when I first saddled up to his bar. I was so impressionable, winging everything, including my drinking ethos, looking for the bottom rung of any sophisticated ladder to grab. Words like curate and craft were just beginning to elbow their way to the table. I was a little skeptical but knew it was time to grow up, to graduate from Jack and Coke.

That first sip changed everything - the lush, smoked cherry cola and vanilla layers of the Carpano Antica Formula vermouth seduced me with a strip-tease that sparked pleasure so rich that I welcomed, practically begged for, the sting of whiskey to cut it. The garnish of bar-made boozy cherries, Jeff’s trademark back then, so dark and sweet, rounded out an experience that frankly felt carnal. When I snapped out of the trance I felt a blush wash over my face, as if I’d just engaged in some lewd act of public indecency. I was a new vampire and here was my first taste of fresh blood.

Eventually it made all the sense in the world for my Carpano consumption to pull a Beyoncé and go solo. With layers of character and a parade of flavors that leave me guessing as to what’s next, it no longer needed the flank of brown liquor and bitters to elevate its stardom. This epiphany would turn out to be my exercise in moderation. Cocktails have always been my jam, but mixologists these days are slinging drinks so kind on the palate that I find my thoughts fogged and my words slurred way too early in the night from throwing them back with ease. (Related: self control is not my jam.) Maybe it was how I swayed in the stool or the tinge of trouble in my eyes that Jeff noticed. Either way, when he set this drink before me one night, it added a charming wrinkle to my cocktail playbook that I embrace today:

Carpano Antica + Soda

2 ounces Carpano Antica Formula
4 ounces sparkling water
1 orange (or lemon) peel

Pour Carpano, then sparkling water over rocks. Drag the peel along the rim before giving it a gentle squeeze over the booze then drop it in.

Here’s the rub - which begs the question of why I’d write an ode to this 'nectar of the gods' in the first place - I have yet to find it at a retailer in Charlottesville. With fall and winter around the corner, my favorite seasons for sipping rich dark vermouth, it seems another mule run is in the cards. I'm fine with this because I miss the endearing gruff personalities of my favorite DC liquor store clerks at Ace Beverage and Schneider’s. With an arm’s-length dose of helpful charm, they’ll walk the aisles dispensing shots of knowledge about classic liquors and indie small-batch brands along with anecdotal gems that make you feel like a booze insider. This complexity of character mirrors the very spirits they sell you. Meanwhile, a trip to any local ABC brings all the nuance and luster of an errand to the DMV. I hear some ABC stores will special-order liquor for you, so I'll look into that and report back. And it's definitely worth mention that Greenwood Gourmet in Crozet offers a fantastic vermouth selection, including Cocchi di Torino, a lovely colleague of Carpano that will do in a pinch.

But wait, there is hope. I've found it at select watering holes in Charlottesville such as C&O, Oakhart Social, Lampo and Alley Light, to name a few. You can reasonably judge the caliber and class of a bar by its vermouth game. If you spot Carpano Antica on the cocktail list or see it on the top rail behind the bar, breathe easy and imbibe away. (At the very least they should have Dolin, a lower grade yet very solid vermouth.) If you have a drop of taste or pride and the only vermouth in the house is Martini & Rossi, you should bounce immediately. This is all regardless of whether you drink it. I'm just saying that's your litmus test.

To those who know their way around a sophisticated cocktail list, I'm not breaking booze news here. Carpano Antica has been holding court on the scene for a stretch of several years now. For me it's the original gangster in a long line of wormwood players that have happily cluttered my home bar. It's my first vermouth love, hence a fitting genesis for this series.

Tasting Notes: Before you taste, take a deep whiff of this gem and you'll get dreamy hints of root beer and vanilla on the nose. On the palate. I find an initial bold wave of vanilla and dried citrus fruit that gives way to a second act of cherry cola and cloves and finishes with a pleasant herbal sting that is rounded out with a hint of toffee.

Cheers!