Jihad and Be Well
Islam is a faith that appeals to reason. Since alcohol is injurious to reason, all Muslims are forbidden even a drop. Hence I was skeptical when a man collecting anti-war signatures from across an ironing board at 110th and Broadway told me a cocktail called the Jihad exists in Europe.
What's in it? "Dunno."
Where did you hear about it? So far as I can tell he said "Night Cafe," the old socialist dive at 106th and Amsterdam. But just as easily he could have said, "Sign here." In either case, I thanked him. What had begun as a story about American drinks inspired by war had just morphed into a search for bar culture's answer to the war in Iraq.
The Night Cafe proved to be a false lead. But a subsequent Google search of "Jihad cocktail" returned six independent websites offering identical recipes: 2 oz. Finlandia vodka, 3 oz. of lemon-lime soda, and 2 oz. of orange juice. The Jihad cocktail does exist, has existed, in fact. It keeps my grandmother regular, and lubricates the playing of canasta.
Predictably, such a limp and misleading name could only be a bureaucratic creation-a compromised attempt to be edgy, yet subtle and responsible. "Just six websites," I imagine the pseudo-guerrilla corporate marketing memo reading, "but all name the brand."
Finlandia is owned the by Brown-Forman Corporation, a diversified cabal that includes Jack Daniels, a host of wines and Hartman Luggage. But Brown-Forman's director of public relations, Rick Bubenhofer, did not return my calls. Perhaps with good reason.
Quite apart from whether the Jihad cocktail exists is the question of whether anyone would actually drink one. Dale DeGroff, founder of the Museum of the American Cocktail in New Orleans, bristled at the idea, but was unsurprised by its existence. "War and drinking have been copacetic since the Civil War," said DeGroff, adding that "the Artillery Punch, General Harrison's Egg Nog and about 12 other punches were all named after key regiments."
One has to look at fights against someone else, however, to find a series of drinks that go beyond military morale into the heart of the public. New York's oldest tavern, Pete's in Gramercy Park, for example, began serving the French 75 (named after the French artillery) during World War I, as a toast to fallen pilots. Similarly, the Kamikaze arose as a memorial cocktail after World War II, according to Tommy Ricks, bartender at the Pierre Hotel. Considering that even Vietnam left a legacy with the Napalm shot, some version of the Jihad cocktail feels inevitable.
The question is when, and with what ingredients. The Finlandia version seems too tame, not to mention too soon. So I spent my weekend conducting a survey. Have you heard of the Jihad? Would you ever drink one? How do you imagine it tasting? Over three days, I walked the length of Manhattan. I chatted up bartenders, barflies, college kids and the man on the street.
What I found-besides the fact that the Press expense account is not designed for $10 Heinekens at Carlyle's-was that Jihad is still too close to an obscenity to be a drink in New York. Not a single undergraduate I spoke with had heard of Jihad cocktails, was interested in their composition or believed they would catch on. Bartenders were equally incredulous. "It would start a riot, serving that here," said John Chambers at Old Town Bar and Grill, a venerable, respectable joint. Even notoriously amoral downtown establishments such as Mars Bar and Coyote Ugly balked at the idea. "Maybe ten years from now," said tap journeyman Nick Iovacchini.
Patrons, on the other hand, were curious and cooperative. None had heard of the Jihad, but when asked to imagine what such a drink should entail, they revealed the kind of hidden injuries talk shows thrive on. Common descriptions included red, spicy, sandy, textured and/or with odor and kick. Say "jihad," and ask a New Yorker to free-associate. If they don't say "holy war," they will definitely say nitroglycerine.
With each descriptive epithet, my mind flashed back to Finlandia. "When people think of Finlandia vodka, words like clean, crisp, natural and smooth immediately come to mind," said Jennie Meador, Finlandia's brand director, in a recent press release. Funny, then, how a careless name can alter one's perceptions by nearly 180 degrees.
When emotions do relax in New York, it feels certain that a name like Jihad won't be wasted on Finlandia. Something more punishing is called for. But what?
My local bartender and I recently set about finding a solution. Things started slow, but before long, I left the pleasant-smelling world of liberty and sanity. I found my Jihad: 3/4 oz. Goldschlager, 3/4 oz. Jäger , and 3/4 oz. of Grenadine. My bartender friend, on the other hand, dropped his towel on a 3/4 oz. Red Bull, 3/4 oz. Absinthe blend-a suitably undrinkable drink for an often unstomachable concept.
Press readers should send their own suggestions, however. And they should do so fearlessly because, as David Soderlund, bartender at Radio Perfecto, correctly reminds, things haven't changed that much since 9/11. "There's still no place at the bar for politics, sex or religion." So here's to you, David and all of New York. Jihad and be well.