Remember the Maine and Hell to Spain!
The Spanish American War gets its own cocktail (but not until 1933)
On February 15 1898, a huge explosion sounded through Havana Harbor. The U.S.S Maine, sent to Cuba to protect American interests during the Cuban War for Independence against Spain, was quickly sinking. Its front end was obliterated. An American steamer and a Spanish cruiser, the City of Washington and the Alfonso XII, respectively, rushed to its assistance and saved over 100 sailors. However, 261 men would die.
Everyone everywhere handled everything perfectly. Spain agreed to help America figure out what had caused the explosion. America took the news in stride and made a nationwide pact to reserve judgment until all evidence could be investigated. The newspapers printed thoughtful analyses and promoted a cautious reaction and urged a levelheaded response. Everyone distinctly called for no war. Americans decided that it was best not to jump to conclusions – that the explosion had been caused by Spain. This allowed cooler heads to prevail. All was well.
Just kidding. Everyone lost their shit. And fast. The U.S. was on edge because of Cuba’s third war against Spain so close to America and because of perceived atrocities against Cubans. Their edginess was exacerbated by the shrieking accusations and heavy insinuations from two leading newspapers that Spain was responsible for or involved in the tragedy. Joseph Pulitzer, the owner of the New York World, privately said that “nobody outside of an insane asylum” could actually believe Spain was involved, but his newspaper vociferously suggested wrongdoing on Spain’s part. William McKinley didn’t want a war and battled against political pressure to avenge the Maine’s destruction. He urged calm and sought a peaceful solution. The rallying cry “Remember the Maine, to hell with Spain!” soon became as rampant as syphilis. McKinley knew it was a lost battle, and in April he gave in and declared war.
The insult to the injury of being dragged into a war, William McKinley’s Spanish American War is likely the most forgettable war in modern American history. Not only was it short, undynamic, and lack heroes (or a TV to show them), it has the bad luck of being smack dab in the middle of America’s sexiest combat sagas. The Civil War had ended 33 years earlier featuring megastars Ulysses S. Grant, Robert E. Lee, and Abraham Lincoln, who’d ended slavery. How could a president follow that? Worse, World War I was around the corner just waiting to destroy a generation of humans from all nations. And WWII, aka the most popular war of all time, has D-Day, Ike, Patton, Bastogne, and starts off with Pearl Harbor, an event which makes the U.S.S. Maine look like a rubber duckie sinking in a bathtub. How could McKinley’s little war in Cuba compare? It only resulted in about 400 American and 800 Spanish combat deaths. Bolstering those numbers are 2,000 Americans and 15,000 Spaniards who died from disease. But aside from Teddy Roosevelt’s ride up San Juan Hill, the Spanish American War was yesterday’s news today.
However, the war did spawn a cocktail. Unfortunately, it doesn’t get it until 1933 during the Cuban Revolution. The cocktail was “created” and coined by Charles H. Baker. Charles H. Baker explored the world for cocktail recipes and experiences the way others explored for lost cities, straits, and overland passes. He collected these recipes and stories in various travelogue-cocktail books (e.g. The Gentleman's Companion: Being an Exotic Drinking Book or Around the World with Jigger, Beaker and Flask). His narratives include exotic locales and characters such as shoeless Malay boys, itinerant Russian princes, and French aviators casually popping in with at-hand gomme syrup, egg whites and Ipecacuanha. He laces his recipes and narratives with wisdom nuggets that suggest he’s the Dalai Lama of booze. His ruminations include letting life fly you by the seat of your pants, drinking alone is a wonderful pastime to take up, that alcohol was the essence of adventure, and that the world’s most interesting people are all interested in food and drink. An interest that “is in the spirit of high adventure and which crossed language, class and cultural barriers. The offer of a drink is the handshake for this excellent set.”
Let us join the ranks of that excellent set and make a “Remember the Maine.” This cocktail was created, according to Baker, as “a hazy memory of a night in Havana during the unpleasantness of 1933, when each swallow was punctuated with bombs going off on the Prado, or the sound of 3’’ shells being fired at the Hotel Nacional, then haven for certain anti-revolutionary officers. Treat this one with the respect it deserves, gentlemen” and ladies.
Rinse out a Nick and Nora glass (imagine if a martini glass and a wine glass had an illegitimate child with a long neck and puffy cheeks) with a ½ teaspoon of absinthe and drain the absinthe. Where you drain it is up to you; your throat is a perfectly suitable receptacle. “Into a tall bar glass toss in 3 lumps of ice. Onto this foundation donate the following in order given: 1 jigger of good rye whiskey, ½ jigger Italian vermouth, and 1 to 2 tsp of cherry brandy.” You can also add the ½ teaspoon of absinthe directly to the drink, or if you’re feeling adventurous and you don’t possess taste buds, just add another ½ tsp absinthe. This will probably dominate the taste of the drink, but it’ll make it a damned pleasant and, probably, short night. “Stir briskly in clockwise fashion – this makes it seagoing” and then pour it into the Nick and Nora glass. Twist a curl of green lime or lemon peel over the top.
Baker actually seems to have lifted the recipe from an earlier cocktail called McKinley’s Delight (named for our unlucky President William McKinley). It’s not hard to see why Baker’s name for the cocktail stuck better, as McKinley’s Delight sounds like a nickname McKinley would have given his penis after a few McKinley’s Delights. Nevertheless, as McKinley didn’t want to get into the Spanish American War and since he was gobbled up by history (until he luckily got shot), let’s dedicate this cocktail to President McKinley and to Charles H. Baker, booze explorer extraordinaire.
Great story although I'll pass on the drink. Just writing the A word makes me queasy.