The Invention of Albertine: Confession of an Epicurean

―by guest writer AlbertCAN

“Indeed, my roving mind was busy with a thousand projects: a novel, travel, a play, marketing a fruit cocktail of my own invention. (Don’t ask for the recipe; I have forgotten it.)”
 ~Jean-Dominique Bauby, «Le Scaphandre et le Papillon» (1997)

Lucid intoxication is the best tease: a demure wink, the deft nudge. L'Art de la séduction interdite. With verve and panache, an exquisite intrigue is truly a meeting of the minds, for the transcendent provocation can only be mischievous when done right; any more or less the pas de deux of sensuality goes awry.

Regina Lambert: Oh, did they do that kind of thing way back in your day?
Peter Joshua: Sure. How do you think I got here?*

Source: Uploaded by user via Cheryl on Pinterest

Thus the psyche was in full epicurean swing when putting together my new signature champagne cocktail one recent morning, which took all but one nifty trial. Elena initially half-jokingly referred to it as Albertini—lovely idea, but the recipe’s lack of gin and vermouth called for a slightly different signature, so Albertine it was christened.

I have the recipe below, and true to my style it’s deceptively simple: always get the best quality ingredients one could afford when effortless chic is called for.

photo copyrighted by AlbertCAN

Albertine

One 750 mL bottle Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin brut champagne, well chilled
One carton (1 L) of unsweetened pineapple juice, well chilled
One bottle of orange blossom water
Twelve classic 6 oz. champagne flutes
Serves twelve: In each flûte à champagne add ¼ teaspoon of orange blossom water and ¼ cup of pineapple juice. The flute should be half full at this point. Top off with brut champagne. Serve immediately.

Vierge Albertine: Non-alcoholic variation. Substitute the champagne with equal part unflavoured sparkling water. (I prefer Perrier or San Pellegrino.)

Of course, the recipe in practice has plenty of savoir-faire in spades: get a 350 mL bottle of brut bubbly to halve the serving for an intimate six, or multiply thereafter according to one’s entertainment needs. Even compatible with all champagne glasses so long the master ratio below is followed:

¼ teaspoon orange blossom water for every ¼ cup unsweetened pineapple; half juice, half champagne in each glass.

I selected Veuve Clicquot because the aromatic bouquet is exceedingly smooth and intricate—not to mention beautifully priced in my end of Canada —yet frankly any dry sparkling wine of quality shall suffice. The operative words here being, of course, quality and sensibility: a delicate Prosecco could easily step in, but anything too cheaply priced is probably just, well, too cheap in taste. As for the exclusive editions of Perrier-Jouët, Louis Roederer Cristal and Dom Pérignon are definitely not expected—but who am I to say no to Dom Pérignon at a perfect moment?

Now a word of caution: Albertine, not unlike the eponymous heroine in Proust’s «À la recherche du temps perdu», goes down smooth and lingers on. An undisciplined can easily glean over six servings at once! So please experiment responsibly.

The champagne cocktail is dedicated to Jean-Dominique Bauby, whose memoir “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” honed my aesthetics many moons ago.

"My diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mind takes flight like a butterfly. There is so much to do. You can wander off in space or in time, set out for Tierra del Fuego or for King Midas's court. You can visit the woman you love, slide down beside her and stroke her still-sleeping face. You can build castles in Spain, steal the Golden Fleece, discover Atlantis, realise your childhood dreams and adult ambitions." -Jean Dominique Bauby, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

* Quotes from “Charade” (1963)

Patou Ma Collection: part 3 ~Moment Supreme, Cocktail reviews

There are moments when one is forced to face their demons and try to tame those things one believes to be most antithetical to their nature. Lavender has for a long time eluded me as an aroma to be savored in perfumery, mostly due to its cliché status in many masculine fragrances and secondarily due to its ~I thought~ unimaginative medicinal-ity.
But sometimes one is taken aback: Moment Suprême and Cocktail, both by Patou from the "Ma Collection" set, are linked by their lavender opening, which is treated in two different ways, like the two faces of Janus. While they both present a unisex feeling thanks to the emblematic use of lavender, showing its striking cheekbones and decisive jawline with pride, in Moment Suprême the composition interweaves lavender through its thicker sweet brocade, while in Cocktail it serves as a sparkling top which resembles the brass tromboni in the opening of Stravinsky’s "Sacrificial Dance" from "Rite of Spring".



Moment Suprême came out in 1929, composed by in-house perfumer Henri Alméras, although some give a 1933 date for its introduction. At some point it was incorporated into the love story coffret with the other three beauties: Amour Amour, Que sais-je? and Adieu Sagesse.

Upon cracking the bottle of Moment Suprême open, having observed the pale celadon of the juice, you’re taken with the vintage feel it evokes: lavender showing its medicinal character while just as quickly the plush of amber and vanilla along with a bouquet of flowers peek through. For about half an hour this is the story, when later on there is a delectable hint of spice, like carnation which was so enticing in Adieu Sagesse, makes its solo appearance before retreating to the wings; but leaving the stage lights open to an empty scene which has retained the warmth of the people who have performed. The character of the composition is elegant, defiant and businesslike with a distinct warmth underneath that speaks of silky undergarments.

Notes for Moment Suprême: bergamot, lemon, neroli, mandarin, lavender, May rose, clove, ylang, lilac, jonquil, orris, vanilla, sandal, musk, honey, heliotrope, civet, moss, and benzoin.

The story of Cocktail is fitting to its name, recalling rich patrons sipping dry Martinis and Gibsons while listening to Benny Goodman’s swing clarinet, Prohibition laws making it a naughty affair to get a decent drink.
In his couture shop at 7, rue Saint-Florentin, Jean Patou had the brilliant idea of creating a cocktail bar where men could drink and small-talk while their women shopped for their dresses. In 1930, Patou decided that this could be converted into a veritable perfume bar and Henri Alméas was instructed to create "cocktail" fragrances. The results were the original, Cocktail Dry, Cocktail Sweet, and Cocktail Bitter Sweet.

Cocktail takes crisp lavender and utilizes it like angostura bitters to set off the rest of the intoxicating dryness of this heady drink you’re about to consume. Sharp at first, subtle upon closer inspection, it sparkles with the greeness of herbal aromas like the juniper berries in gin to later whisper with the dry powder of hazy blossoms seen through netting, as if in a drunk stupor. But the point is you could do a lot worse than getting high on Patou’s Cocktail!
In a strike of either ironic coincidence or elective affinity, twenty-five years later perfumer Henri Giboulet created a "cocktail" perfume for Lubin, Gin Fizz. When Henri Alméras retired, Henri Giboulet became in-house perfumer for Patou.

Notes for Cocktail: lavender, geranium, clove, rose and jasmine.

Pics courtesy of mooseyscountrygarden, tout en parfum, netshopusa.us