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How to Make the Deep and Rich Rum Manhattan

How to Make the Deep and Rich Rum Manhattan

How to Make the Deep and Rich Rum Manhattan

The Black Prince is a type of rum Manhattan—a particularly good one at that, deep, rich, fruity and dark—but I also think of it as perhaps the best liquid argument we have for Averna. In a way, all delicious cocktails are arguments for their component ingredients, but it’s unusually true here of the Averna, which, if we’re being honest, needs as many cheerleaders as it can get. 

Averna is a liqueur. Specifically an amaro, (plural: amari) which is Italian for bitter and refers in the bar world to the herbaceous and bitter liqueurs that are both plentiful and popular in cafes across Italy and cocktail bars across the world. There are hundreds of these (Campari, Cynar, Braulio, Amaro Meletti, Amaro Montenegro, Amaro Nardini, etc, etc, etc) and there are whole bars from New York to Seattle dedicated to the nuance and mixability of the category. 

Of these, Averna is one of the most ubiquitous, but I would posit mysteriously so. It’s plenty good on its own—not provocative or flamboyant, just good. And then there’s cocktails: Make a drink that calls for an amaro and try Averna side-by-side with its competitors, and in my experience, it’s almost always good, but almost never best. It is rarely ordered neat (in this country, anyway) yet to discover that a cocktail bar didn’t have a bottle of Averna would be earnestly surprising, like a diner that didn’t have ketchup.

Now—Averna already has a champion. If you know any cocktails with Averna at all, it’s almost certainly the Black Manhattan, which is simply a classic Manhattan wherein the vermouth has been wholly substituted with Averna. And the Black Manhattan is a great drink, but the reason I think the Black Prince is a better showcase of the amaro’s skills is that the Black Manhattan misleads the drinker into thinking that Averna is generally a good match for American whiskey, which (again, in my personal experience) it is not. I believe this is why Averna doesn’t have more big cocktails to its name, why when you do side-by-sides it tends to fall short. It feels like it should be a natural pair for bourbon or rye—that it should slide seamlessly into the noble family of Manhattan variations of whiskey, vermouth, and amaro—but Averna’s flavor profile rejects that framework. 

Get rum in the picture, however, and it’s a whole different story, and this is where we get to the Black Prince. The Black Prince is an unsurprisingly excellent entry from Phil Ward, created in 2009 when he was at Death & Co in New York. It starts with the molasses-like depth of a well-aged rum, sweeter and deeper than American whiskey without the grainy midpalate or blast of new oak. This is joined with Punt e Mes, a bittersweet vermouth with bright red fruit notes, and finished with the coffee depth and mild bitterness of Averna. The real gift of the Black Prince is its ability to put Averna on display, to highlight its best attributes—Averna tastes like oranges and pomegranates and rosemary licorice with bitter finish like a flourless chocolate cake, and that’s precisely what the cocktail tastes like, just dramatized.

The cocktail is, in other words, a song played in the key of Averna. It’s a demonstration of how to mix with it and a proof of the ability to do so, each deep, broody sip a liquid argument for one of the most underappreciated bottles on the shelf.

The Black Prince

  • 2 oz. aged rum
  • 0.75 oz. Punt e Mes (or other Sweet Vermouth)
  • 0.5 oz. Averna
  • 1 dash Orange Bitters (optional)

Add all ingredients to a mixing glass with ice and stir briskly for 10 to 15 seconds (if you’re using small ice) or 20 to 30 seconds (if you’re using big ice). Strain into a coupe or cocktail glass, and garnish with a cherry, or nothing at all. 

NOTES ON INGREDIENTS

Photo: courtesy Bacardí

Aged Rum: I wish this variable were less finicky. Ward originally made it with Ron Zacapa 23, which is what I recommend as well. If you don’t have that, note that the rum needs to provide some depth itself, so Guyanese examples like El Dorado 5 or 8 year, or the Hamilton’s 86 Demerara Rum, are great, though you can overdo it (in the case of Hamilton’s 86, for example, I’d split it in half with a milder aged Spanish style rum like Flor de Cana 7 or Bacardi 8 or something). Jamaican funk doesn’t do the cocktail any favors but also doesn’t take away, so if you love that note, you’ll love it here. Avoid aged rums that are too light, especially if you aren’t using Punt e Mes.

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Punt e Mes: A bittersweet vermouth that compliments sweet vermouth’s expected bright fruit with an unusual amount of chocolaty depth. It’s also called for in the Red Hook and the Fort Point and the Harvard and the Maximilian Affair and if you like stirred Manhattan-like things you should probably have a bottle. But if you don’t, this still works with really any sweet vermouth you like, it just puts more pressure on the rum to be just so. When the balance isn’t right, this is still totally drinkable, it’s just less compelling, so it’s worth it to try to find the right bottles.

Orange Bitters: This was made originally with a dash of orange bitters. I honestly liked it both ways—Punt e Mes and Averna combined bring enough bitterness to bear here, so what it does is give a little boost to the orange flavors. Brands vary so wildly from one to another I’ll just say: Use it if you want to. It might make it better, it might not.




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