And Now For Something Different: The Aviation Cocktail

In a complete departure for this blog, today I bring you not a media review, but a post about the classic cocktail, the Aviation.  I write this not because it’s particularly relevant to the topics otherwise covered on this blog (it is, at best, tangentially related), but because this is information I feel the world needs to know, and Twitter threads only get one so far, you know?

It’s spring in southeast Michigan, which means it’s violet season.  A patch of the cute little buggers suddenly showed up in my lawn a few years ago, and since then, I’ve been doing my best to spread them.  (As I discovered, more or less by accident, they go to seed in late-October/early-November here, so if you know what to look for, you can collect said seeds and purposefully grow your violet army, as I’ve done.)

Valiant little soldiers, helping the bees.

Provided they haven’t been sprayed with chemicals or dog piss (or any piss, I guess?), the common North American violet is totally safe to eat, and there are a number of recipes you can find out there that utilize them.  I’ve taken to making yearly batches of violet syrup (perfect for lemonade or limeade), and these past two seasons have seen me experimenting with homemade violet liqueur.  After much experimentation (made all the more difficult by the fact that these guys only bloom for a relatively short period), this year I finally succeeded in making a violet liqueur I’m genuinely quite proud of (the recipe, for the curious, can be found at the bottom of this post).

Well, having successfully produced a homemade violet liqueur (also known as crème de violette), the next obvious step was finding a drink in which to use it.  Enter: the Aviation.

The Aviation (as indicated by its name, itself supposedly a reference to the color of the sky at dusk) dates back to the early 20th century, and was first recorded in Hugo Ensslin’s 1916 book, Recipes For Mixed Drinks.  (At the time, Ensslin was the head bartender at the Hotel Wallick in New York, and the 1917 second edition of the book has actually been digitized and can be found online.)  Prohibition hit the States soon after, and it seems the next notable mention of the drink was in Englishman Harry Craddock’s Savoy Cocktail Book, first published in 1930.  Curiously, though, Craddock’s recipe completely omits the crème de violette—an ingredient which was perhaps already falling into obscurity by then.

The liqueur appears to have continued falling into obscurity, completely disappearing from the American market in the 1960s.  Starting in 2007, it has since been resurrected in a limited fashion, though apparently not without some controversy.  Some “purists” (as they might be called) still insist on leaving the ingredient out of an Aviation (a la Harry Craddock), on the basis that the crème de violettes made today are different from the “traditional” varieties.  Others argue that the floral flavor of the liqueur is vital to the drink, as is the color it brings—though comment sections are inevitably full of people lamenting that the drink isn’t nearly as visually vibrant as many of the pictures portray.  (Not unless you “hack” it by using Empress 1908 gin, that is, or else a couple drops of food coloring.)

I, personally, have yet to try a commercially-available crème de violette (EDIT: I now have, see below), but from my reading, I gather that my homemade stuff is both less potent in flavor and less sweet.  The crucial thing to note, however, is that my homemade stuff is pH-sensitive, whereas the commercially-available varieties are emphatically not.  This means it turns blue-green if you add a base to it (like baking soda), and bright pink if you add an acid (like lemon juice).

As so many modern mixologists rave about the floral properties of the Aviation, and as I was 99% sure my homemade stuff was lighter in flavor than what can be purchased off the shelf, I got my other ingredients together (Bombay Sapphire gin and Luxardo maraschino liqueur) and tweaked the ratios to something I thought would be more reasonable: two parts gin to one part each of lemon juice, maraschino liqueur, and crème de violette.  The result was a cocktail that was gorgeously pink in color, but even with such a relatively large amount of crème de violette, the floral flavor was still completely drowned out by everything else.  It tasted more like a traditional Gin Sour, or (unsurprisingly) a Last Word without the chartreuse—coincidentally, two other cocktails equally as old-fashioned as the Aviation.

The next day (once I had sufficiently sobered up—these drinks are strong, and my relatively small size means I’m quite the lightweight, pfft) I decided to try Hugo Ensslin’s recipe (two parts gin, one part lemon juice, two dashes maraschino liqueur, two dashes crème de violette).  Following it to the letter with my homemade violet brew, I ended up with a drink that was delicately light pink in color, but arguably too sour in flavor.  To that effect, hoping to balance out my anemic violet liqueur, I added a single dash of orange blossom water (Ziyad brand).  While it was still sour, the floral tones really helped mellow the heavy citrus.  It might honestly be my new favorite spring/summer drink.

Also, arguably far closer to the sky at dusk than all those pale blue-grey concoctions out there today?

(EDIT:  I then got myself a bottle of Rothman & Winter crème de violette (an oft-recommended brand), just to see how it compared, and I…was not impressed, in either flavor or color, I have to admit.  Syrupy sweet, and though it’s advertised as being made from actual Alpine (sweet) violets, it tasted pretty artificial to me.  It’s also been shelf-stabilized with other dyes, which means it doesn’t have that wonderful pH-sensitivity.  It’s a very pretty purple in the bottle, but turns into a murky mess once it hits lemon juice.  I tried making a lemonade with it, and it looked like dishwater.  Supposedly The Bitter Truth brand (also available near me) might be a bit better, but I don’t know if I want to drop the money for yet another bottle I may very well be disappointed with.  As is, I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with the R&W bottle.  Maybe I can use it in a cider vinegar switchel of sorts?  Presumably that won’t result in a dishwater color, at least.)

What this makes me wonder is:  What if the Aviation was meant to be pink all along?  Sadly, I don’t know if extra dyes were being used in crème de violette in early-1900s production of the liqueur.  But if they weren’t, if the color at the time was coming entirely from the flower, then maybe that explains why crème Yvette is the “traditionally” recommended substitute in an Aviation, as that would give you a similarly pink color and at least some of the floral properties.  Unless someone happens to unearth some antique instructions on how to make the liqueur, or else runs across a detailed color description of an Aviation in, like, some vintage literature, I guess we won’t know for sure, but I do think it’s worth considering.  After all, I stepped outside the other night just as the sun was setting, and it’s worth noting that the clouds on the horizon were damn near the exact same color as my drink.  <3

 

Anyway, the recipe!  For now, at least!  It’s effectively in two parts (the alcohol infusion, then the water infusion), which you then combine.  It makes approximately 3 cups or 750 mL of liqueur, so can conveniently be put into an old, empty (and ideally clear, so as to show off that color!) liquor bottle.

Ingredients:

• Everclear 151 (about 1 cup; I’ve also seen vodka or gin recommended, but I like how incredibly neutral Everclear is, plus a little goes a long way)
• 3 heaping cups violet flowers, rinsed (no stems, but calyxes and sepals are okay)
• at least 4 tablespoons (¼ cup) white sugar

Equipment:

• a wide-mouthed jar with lid (at least 1.5 cup capacity)
• another vessel capable of holding about 2 cups, be it a large measuring cup, a small mixing bowl, etc.
• strainer (I just use a standard metal one, but if you want the liqueur clearer you can use something else)
• bottle or other vessel big enough to mix/store in
• funnel (to add sugar if using a narrow-necked vessel—though in a pinch you can also use a clean sheet of white paper rolled into a funnel shape)
• refrigerator and freezer (very important!—this shit needs to be COLD)

Part 1 (alcohol infusion):  Chill your Everclear in either the fridge or freezer.  Once chilled, take 1 heaping cup violet flowers, place in wide-mouthed jar, and mash slightly with a spoon to both bruise the petals and pack them down.  Pour about 1 cup chilled Everclear over them (enough to cover them), cover with lid, then place in the freezer, giving it the occasional stir/shake.  Everclear is really good at leeching out flavor, so you only want to let it infuse for, like, 2-4 hours.  (Within about 20 minutes or so you should see the alcohol starting to turn purple.)  Strain and discard flowers, then place infusion in the fridge.  (Enjoy the intense purple color while you can, because it will fade—this is okay!)

Part 2 (water infusion—can be started at same time as alcohol infusion):  Take 2 heaping cups violet flowers, place in large cup or other vessel, and pour approximately 2 cups cold water over them.  Again, mash with a spoon to bruise the petals and pack them down.  Place in fridge (uncovered is fine), and let sit for 24-48 hours, stirring occasionally (I gave mine a poke whenever I had to go into the fridge for something else, but that was about it).  Strain and discard flowers.  If not immediately combining with alcohol, keep refrigerated.

Part 3:  Combine alcohol infusion with water infusion.  (Your alcohol infusion will likely have faded to a pale purple at this point.)  Ideally you want 1 part alcohol to 2 parts water, bringing the ABV down to about 25%.  Add sugar to taste, and shake/stir until combined (I like ¼ cup, as it’s just enough to take the edge off the alcohol, but you may want it sweeter).  Again, enjoy the intense purple color while you can, as it will likely fade to a slightly less intense purple-blue within 6-12 hours.  Lastly, KEEP IT REFRIGERATED.  (Out of curiosity, I let part of a batch come up to room temperature, and while it wasn’t enough to outright ruin the flavor, it did noticeably affect it.)

 

Notes:

• It really is important to keep things as cold as possible at every step of the way.  Previous batches were made at room temperature (or hotter, in an attempt to extract more flavor), and this not only fucked up the color, but also resulted in a lot of unpleasantly grassy undertones—good enough to use in a hard lemonade (where the citrus could cover up the flavor), but not all that great on its own.  I’m not all that well-versed on the chemistry behind it, but basically, keeping things cold allows certain organic compounds to leech out into solution, but not others.  When made correctly, the result should be a very delicate floral flavor, that can indeed be sipped straight.  (EDIT:  As the liqueur dates back to before modern refrigeration techniques, perhaps next year I’ll try a batch using my basement temperature, to see if that’s cold enough.  If so, expect another edit.)
• Unfortunately, due to this being such a newly-devised recipe, I have no idea what the shelf life is.  The violet syrup I make (which I similarly keep refrigerated, and which has no alcohol but a hell of a lot more sugar—enough to act as a preservative of sorts), I try to use within six months of creation.  So maybe I’ll try to do the same with the liqueur?
• Because the liqueur is pH-sensitive, the quality of your water may/will affect the color.  My tap water appears to be ever-so-slightly basic, so when I rinsed out a vessel, the water would turn a very pale green.  If your liqueur ends up more blue (or blue-green?) than you’d like, you can turn it back to purple by adding lemon or lime juice a single drop at a time.  Seriously, A SINGLE DROP AT A TIME.  I did three drops in my first batch, and once I’d given it a shake to mix it, it ended up being more than I wanted.  (If your water is somehow acidic and turns your liqueur more of a pink or magenta, idk, maybe try adding cucumber juice?  Rumor has it they’re slightly alkaline.)
• If you don’t have untreated violets available, but want that color change all the same, I understand butterfly pea flower tea is similarly pH-sensitive and will go from blue to pink when an acid is introduced.
• I’m still experimenting with flower infusions.  My violets are on their way out, but lilacs are in bloom, so maybe I’ll soon be able to try a lilac Aviation?
• Perhaps in honor of the Aviation, I’ll next review a romance short story I ran across in one of my pulp magazines.  (It features a pilot hero, of course, who’s named—I shit you not—Richard Armitage, lol.)

 

Questions?  Comments?  Have you tried making your own violet liqueur?  Have you run across a vintage description of the Aviation?  If so, let me know!  In the meantime, I hope this was an interesting (and helpful?) little diversion!

Tagged: alcohol, aviation, cocktails, crème de violette, richard armitage but not that one sorry, violet liqueur