Thomas Babington Macaulay lived in a time when politicians were expected to be, or at least were comfortable being, intellectuals. Macaulay was England’s Secretary of War and Queen Victoria’s Paymaster General. He also served as the Rector of the University of Glasgow, wrote what was considered at the time to be the authoritative history of England, and published a large volume of epic poetry set in early Rome.
He is best remembered today for a passage in his 1842 Lays of Ancient Rome, in a poem called “Horatius”: “Then out spake brave Horatius/ The Captain of the Gate:/ “To every man upon this earth/ Death cometh soon or late./ And how can man die better/
Than facing fearful odds,/ For the ashes of his fathers,/ And the temples of his gods?”
Man, that’s good! It’s enough to make you want to unsheathe a sword and frighten some barbarians.
By contrast, I am not so civilized. A few years ago, while developing a recipe using cucumbers, inspired by Macaulay, I wrote the following:
Then up spake brave Cucumber
The Captain of the Crisper;
“To every vegetable upon this Earth
Death cometh with a shout or in a whisper.
And how can a cucumber die better
Than facing cutting boards;
For the peelings of his fathers
And the temples of his gourds?”
I bring this up only because I am stupidly proud of my little poem, and today’s cocktail has cucumbers in it.
The Irish Maid
2 ounces Irish whiskey – I like Paddy’s
¾ ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice
½ ounce simple syrup
½ ounce elderflower liqueur
2 slices of cucumber
garnish – 2 more slices of cucumber
Drop two slices of cucumber into the bottom of a cocktail shaker. (This is a personal preference, but I like to do little high-pitched voices as I do this — “No, no! I’ll tell you what you want to know! Aaaaaahhh!” **Thud**)
Thoroughly muddle the cucumber in the bottom of the shaker, then add the whiskey. Dry shake it — this means without ice — and set it aside for 20 minutes or so. This is to allow the alcohol in the whiskey to strip out volatile flavor compounds from the cucumber. As if it hasn’t been through enough.
After waiting a respectful length of time, add the lemon juice, simple syrup and elderflower liqueur, and ice, then shake thoroughly, until your hands get cold and you start to hear the ice breaking up inside the shaker.
Fine-strain it over fresh ice in a rocks glass. I have a mesh drain screen that I save for jobs like this.
Garnish with the remaining two slices of cucumber, then sip, listening to Etta James singing, “At Last.”
The bridge that ties the ingredients of this cocktail together is the simple syrup. Surprisingly, both whiskey and cucumber are enhanced by sugar. The acid from the lemon keeps everything from getting too sugary, and the elderberry gives a faint background taste of sophistication. The alcohol is definitely there but for once has decided to take a back seat to the other flavors. You can imagine it smiling and gesturing to the other ingredients on the stage, whispering, “Shh. It’s their big night.”
Something about holding a substantial rocks glass with a cold, good cocktail in it seems — civilized.
Repeat with the remainder of the dough, for a total of two dozen cookies.
Your convenience store banana’s Last Grand Gesture was not in vain. These are solidly banana-y cookies, crispy along the edges and chewy in the middle, with random crunchiness from the Nilla Wafers, and random pops of salt. They are outstanding with vanilla ice cream.
Featured Photo: Photo by John Fladd.
