The Shanghai Cocktail Chronicles

"If I'm not wasted, the weekend is." - Jimmy Lerch (attributed)


It is easy to lose yourself in Shanghai, both literally and metaphorically. The city is steeped in history as diverse as it is rich, and the people who have come and gone have left marks on the city as varied as they are indelible. It is an incredible confluence of both old and new, both foreign and Chinese, which creates a narrative that is perhaps unique to the city.

I had the good fortune of spending a weekend in Shanghai being hosted by a couple of old college buddies who have made the city their home, and it was a great pleasure to see them again. We had changed much - that was certain - but as we raised our glasses to one another it kind of felt like the old times again.

It was perhaps appropriate then, that in a city such as Shanghai, such a blend of cultures and influences - that I rediscovered the magic of the mixed drink, otherwise known as the cocktail. I have never been one to be terribly partial to liquor; beer is more often than not my poison of choice. And I suppose I have never really had a really transcendent cocktail. But Jose, Jimmy and Angel brought me to one of their favourite lazy Sunday hangouts: a French restaurant, owned by an New Zealander, in an area formerly known as the International Concession. They swore by the talent and palate of the resident mixologist - as they are called these days - and JImmy sold me on the place by claiming that it was the perfect place to pass a rainy afternoon. It did not rain, but once we got there I saw what he meant.

The Hamilton House is located on the first floor of one of the beautiful buildings that litter the strip known as the Bund, on the banks of the Huangpu River. It was here that the turn of the century saw a building boom of French, British and American banks and trading houses in many different architectural styles. I saw some beautiful Art Deco and Beaux-Arts buildings, somber in their ornamentation and oozing both history and character. It was not lost on me that directly across the river was a stretch of modern glass-windowed skyscrapers, each one trying to outdo each other in the race to the clouds.

What Jimmy meant by his comment was that the Hamilton House was a cozy place with tall windows, through which you could see out into a busy intersection. Evidently he had spent several rainy afternoons here - either by choice or by necessity - tracing the rivulets of rain as they trickled down the glass and watching the world go by, sipping on a cocktail and forgetting about life for a while.


As I browsed the cocktail menu I marveled at the variety of ingredients that went into each drink, and lamented the sad state of the much maligned mixed drink. Most of what gets ordered at bars today does not deviate much from the standards - rum-and-coke, gin-and-tonic, vodka-and-soda. The Hamilton House made me yearn for an era gone by, where a bartender worth his salt could draw on the flavours and tastes of different types, ages and brands of liquors, bitters, aperitifs and juices to make a tasty concoction. If done right, the cocktail can be a creation in itself, a mini-feast for your senses of taste and smell and sight, in addition to that all-important responsibility - to get you drunk.


I started out with a Sun Wukong (above, foreground), made with kiwifruit-infused vodka, passionfruit liqueur, dragonfruit, lemon, lemoncello and green tea. Jose ordered his regular drink - called an Oriental Mule (above, background) that had passionfruit-infused vodka, coriander, lemongrass, ginger, lime and ginger beer in it. I thought these two were the standouts of the evening - just sweet enough to satisfy the palate, just bitter enough to be worthy of an alcoholic beverage. Not only were the flavours well-balanced, but they were local, and seasonal. Evidently a significant amount of thought and effort had gone into the making of these drinks. I should imagine that drink creation is quite enjoyable, for you can always drink your mistakes. Everyone's a winner.


As day turned into dusk, the conversation flowed as freely as the alcohol. I feel like the older I get, the more time I spend reminiscing. Not that there is anything wrong with the present moment, but thinking and talking about the past is a habit easy to pick up and difficult to shake off.


There was a drink on the menu called the Soixante Quinze (above, left) which I absolutely had to try - Bombay Sapphire, Calvados, absinthe, lemon and champagne. For me it was a jolt back to the days when people drank Sazeracs, or Negronis, or pounded any manner of stiff drinks like their life depended on it. I absolutely loved it. It was hair-on-the-chest strong, with the licorice taste of the absinthe and accents of apple thanks to the Calvados. Also pictured is the Cha-tini (above, right) which was similarly delightful, but in a more refined manner. "Cha" being the Chinese character for tea, it was a mix of jasmine tea-infused Bombay Sapphire, Martini Bianco and lemongrass. The two drinks were Yin and Yang together, and disappeared far too quickly.


My last drink was a Henley (above) - Bombay Sapphire, Pimms No. 1, guava nectar, apple juice, lime and mint. At this point you could probably have fed me turpentine and I wouldn't have noticed the difference. It had been the perfect lazy Sunday: we had gotten up late, had brunch on Wujiang Lu*, walked the French Concession, stopped for cocktails and were now headed back home for dinner and then movie night, curled up on the couch or sprawled on the floor in front of the HD TV, drifting in and out of an alcohol and food-induced coma. Truly, life does not get any better.

* Back alley off the main artery of Nanjing Xi Lu, famous for outdoor food vendors and dive restaurants selling all manner of grilled meats and steamed dumplings, among other delicacies

If my trip to Shanghai did anything, it gave me a renewed faith in the cocktail. I have always been a fan of the culture of the Roaring Twenties, and as we sat and watched the cars buzz past, looking out through the window at an intersection of four Art Deco buildings, I felt transported. It was Prohibition all over again and people treated the cocktail with reverence and respect. Everyone, men and women, drank hearty drinks with absinthe and pastis and herbsaint and Pernod and Pimms, with whiskey and bootleg gin. Bartenders made your drinks with care and a sense of purpose. The night before the Hamilton House expedition we had made the acquaintance of a gentleman at one of Shanghai's finest bars, who introduced us to another delicious cocktail called the Scottish Crush - basically a Mojito with Scotch instead of rum. It got a few of us a lot drunker and a lot faster than we expected - and was roundly celebrated and cursed at in equal measure the next morning. Shanghai certainly loves its cocktails, and so do I.