COCKTAILS | ‘Jigger, Beaker & Glass’ reviewed

“Jigger, Beaker & Glass,” a classic compendium of cocktail recipes from around the globe.

Editor’s Note: Maxwell Eaton III, our favorite childrens’ author and a member of the St. Lawrence Class of 2004, makes his debut as a contributor to ejforbes.com with this post. A native Vermonter, he and his fiancee, the lovely Kristin Sadue, reside in the wilds of Arizona.

Maxwell Eaton III
ejforbes.com Contributing Writer

I recently picked up a copy of “Jigger, Beaker &Glass: Drinking Around the World” after seeing a brief piece on the author, Charles H. Baker Jr., in he Atlantic. Unfortunately, due to deadlines of the kiddie book variety, I was forced to shelve the book until this past Saturday when I finally found the opportunity to take a look. Of course, when thinking hard on one vice it can be useful to employ another for the proper perspective, so I grabbed a favorite Peterson pipe and made myself comfortable on the back porch for an extended Sonoran Desert sit.

Originally published in 1939 under the title, “A Gentleman’s Companion, Vol. 2″, “JB&G” is a sort of travelogue of mixed drinks written in a time when “cigarettes were smoked and martinis drunk, all in quick succession and with few apologies.” The recipes are thrown into the book with little or no organization — much like the author’s experiences — and each drink is accompanied by a brief anecdote about a run-in with a drunk Russian prince or how their steamer ran aground resulting in a five day bender. Think Mr. Boston meets “The Thin Man” and they’re bound for Ceylon with a warehouse full of booze on board.

Between many of the concoctions Baker finds room for his own brand of delicate declaration. Early on he reminds the reader that “…the American has invented, and always will invent more of the world’s good mixed drinks than all the rest of humanity lumped together…” If American writers can be divided into red skins and pale skins, then we know which camp Baker was mixing for. The author was doubtlessly writing while knee-deep in the field.

After a few hundred pages of crisscrossing the globe while seemingly in search of every drink that could possibly contain egg white and absinthe, Baker lays down a brief section on the more practical points of A Drinking Life. These include a traveling equipment list (don’t forget your mix-master and spice jars), how to clean up broken crystal (when your porter just can’t be found) and cures for routine occupational hazards like “amoebic alimentary disorders,” bloodshot eyes, hiccups, concussions, poisonings, and the odd attempted suicide by hanging. Not surprisingly at this point, most of the solutions involve either brandy or pure grain alcohol. But always one to play it safe, Baker likes to at least let his readers know what he or she might be in for. In the case of his Pink Lady No. 1 he advises “This is a drink of considerable shocking power, and after consumption keep out of the sun and in touch with friends.” Sound advice.

Despite the fact that every day of the week was a Morning After for Baker (half of his formulas are hangover cures) he maintains that “decent libation supports as many million souls as it threatens; donates pleasure and sparkle to more lives than it shadows; inspires more brilliance in the world of art, music, letters and common ordinary intelligent conversation than it dims…” Papa don’t got a problem. He just got sparkle.

After setting down “J,B&G,” you’ll either feel like beefing up the home bar or swearing the junk off for good. If it’s a case of the latter, you might first try mixing up a cup of Morning Doctor:

Take 1 1/2 to 2 1/2 jiggers of good brandy, a trifle over a cup of very fresh milk, and a teaspoon of sugar, and beat the whole business with an egg beater.

Here’s to decent libation. Cheers.