Need a stiff drink in L.A.? ‘Overproof spirits’ fill the bill

The Enabler met a friend for cocktails at the Parish on a recent Friday night. Two drinks were consumed and three boys discussed. The pair moved on for one last hurrah at the Varnish on 6th Street. What happened next is up for debate. There was a lost credit card, mysterious food receipts, a wayward subway ride and possibly a nap in a park. Three drinks had never done this to the Enabler before — was she losing her tolerance?

The following week was a sullen one, with the Enabler feeling both contrite and baffled. Then — while dolefully contemplating a bottle of 60-proof açaí-based Veev as penance for her excess — she had an epiphany: She wasn’t going soft, the drinks were getting harder.

A careful look at the Parish’s bar menu provided the first confirmation of this theory. Both of the cocktails she had consumed during the Great Downtown Drinking Disaster of 2012 featured “overproof spirits,” which means booze in excess of the typical 80 proof standard (or 40% alcohol by volume).

Overproof spirits, also known as “cask,” “barrel” or “Navy” strength, are on the rise, with many of L.A.’s mixology bars prominently featuring them on drink lists. Some of these, such as the Demerara Rum used in the Parish’s aptly named “Queen Anne’s Revenge,” have proofs as high as 151.

“Overproof spirits seem to be the trend — demand is definitely growing,” says John Little, vice president of Smooth Ambler spirits, which makes a variety of overproof artisanal whiskeys. “And with the advent of serious mixology that genie’s not going back in the bottle.”

“I use Rittenhouse 100 proof rye in Sazeracs,” Wood & Vine bar manager Bayardo De Murguia told the Enabler when she and her drinking partner, the Enabled, ventured on the town to sample the city’s overproof offerings. “Overproof spirits add a depth of flavor that isn’t easily watered down. A half ounce can change a cocktail entirely. And they mix well; you might not notice the proof until you drink three or four.”

Not so, objected the Enabler, gamely offering up her shameful rolling brownout episode from the week before. De Murguia just shrugged and poured a Blue Blazer made with Earl Grey tea, honey and overproof bourbon. The bourbon was so strong that he lighted it on fire and poured the fire from goblet to goblet in the mixing process like a Merlin of alcoholic alchemy.

The Enabler and the Enabled watched, transfixed.

“It’s a little scary,” said the Enabled. “This whole town’s getting drunker.”

Mixologists, it turns out, love overproof spirits and are finding novel ways to use them.

Naomi Schimek at the Spare Room in Hollywood favors 138-proof Chartreuse; Matthew Biancaniello at the Library Bar in the Roosevelt uses 150 proof potato vodka to make a homemade Nocino; Cari Hah at Neat in Glendale touts overproof whiskeys including Old Granddad 100 and Glenlivet Nadurra Scotch; Lacey Murillo of 1886 in Pasadena enjoys Smith & Cross 114 proof rum; Christiaan Rollich of Lucques, A.O.C. and Tavern is a fan of 120 proof St. George Absinthe; Mia Sarazen at the Churchill uses 100 proof Old Fitzgerald bourbon in her Old-Fashioneds; Ryan Ballinger at the York in Highland Park carries a wide variety of overproof whiskeys including 100 proof Four Roses bourbon and 94 proof Elijah Craig; and Jerry Garbus at M.B. Post in Manhattan Beach recommends drinking 143 proof George T. Stagg bourbon with two drops of cold water from an eyedropper.

“I want that Buffalo Trace white dog,” said bartender Sara Jester at Mess Hall in Los Feliz during the Enabler’s recent overproof bar crawl. “It’s, like, 125 proof!”

Jester was happily whipping up a Ramos gin fizz made with Leopold’s 114 proof gin while bar manager Erik Lund mixed a peaty drink called the Downtime (Between Euphoria or Bitter Disappointment), featuring 92 proof Kilchoman Islay Scotch.

Bars that care about cocktails increasingly favor overproof spirits, said Lund, who created a brain-melting cocktail called Destroy All Erik Lund, which features Smith & Cross Rum and 90 proof St. George Botanivore gin.

“They just stand up better in cocktails,” he said. “They balance sweetness — that burn cuts through in a good way.”

Indeed, thought the Enabler, nursing her Bitter Disappointment and appreciating the way it tore down her throat like a backdraft, the kind that only a hunky fireman like Kurt Russell could put out.

The trick in this new age of hyper-booze was to take it slow. To handle Navy strength the Enabler would need her sea legs.

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