Cocktail Comeback

MASTERING THE ART OF the cocktail party.

One morning in the early 1960s, I walked into the dimly lit bar of the old Sea Horse Inn in Provincetown, Mass. I had spent the night driving down the New England coast from Boothbay Harbor, Maine.

I was broke, tired and - as of that moment - jobless. The inn's manager, whose faded beach clothes made him look a little like a dissolute plantation manager, said:

``If you're a bartender, make me a dry martini.''

I walked behind the bar, looked over the stock of gins and vermouths, filled a shaker glass halfway with ice, decanted in a 6-to-1 mix of British gin and French dry vermouth, stirred it gently for long enough to allow some ice to melt, twisted a sliver of lemon rind over the top, threw away the lemon, slid in an olive and handed him the drink in an iced glass.

He sipped once, sipped twice and said: ``You're hired.''

It was the summer before my final undergraduate year in college. I thought aseason tending bar in a resort hotel might be fun and profitable, and it turned out to be both.

Nothing will teach you more about the pluses and minuses of alcohol, the goods and the bads of drink, than serving it to large numbers of dedicated fun-seekers eight hours a day. It was a little like being the CEO of a two-month-long party in one of the most bohemian ports in America.

In retrospect, I'm glad I survived. I still think a successful cocktail party needs - indeed, demands - careful management. A cocktail party should be planned, not thrown.

It is an odd institution, one peculiarly American. Americans have made and hard liquor (as opposed to beer and wine) from the day the Pilgrims landed. It has been the source of social and political turmoil ever since.

But as a contemporary phenomenon, the cocktail party probably traces itself back to the 19th-century French practice of serving an aperitif during the bon quart d'heure, the quarter-hour before a formal dinner.

Because of traditional French respect for the quality wines to be served at dinner, the before-dinner drink usually was mild - and often somewhat sweet. The American cocktail party, which began in U.S. cities and suburbs in the 1920s (interestingly enough, a time of national prohibition), extended drinking throughout the dining period - indeed, it replaced it.

Food, drink and mobile partying took the place of the organized sit-down dinner and course-specific wines. It could last anywhere from two to five hours, or longer - sometimes ending in a casual supper.

The strong drinks that typically were served from the 1920s through '60s (martinis, Manhattans, Scotch rocks, old-fashioneds, etc.) fell out of fashion in the past 20 years, although there are indications they may be making a comeback. But regardless of the strength of the drinks being served, one party ingredient is essential: food. It retards and moderates the absorption of alcohol into the bloodstream. Even an olive helps. Admittedly not much.

An old friend of mine, Mauny Kaseburg, throws an annual cocktail party that is invariably a success. It consists of a celebration of what she calls the four basic food groups: chocolate, garlic, potatoes and champagne.

The chocolate is provided by one or more of the exquisite cakes from Fran's Patisserie (2805 E. Madison St., 322-6511). The garlic is infused into the potatoes (see recipe) and the champagne is infused into the guests.

What exactly is a cocktail?

The origin of the word is obscure. Legend has it that it was coined during the Revolutionary War in a New England tavern run by a Miss Betsy Flanagan. Supposedly, a group of American officers were complaining to Betsy about a

wealthy conservative (Tory) who lived nearby.

Betsy whipped up a drink of fruit juice laced with rum, then decorated it with a feather plucked from the tail of the Tory's rooster.

According to author Alec Waugh: ``Amid the shouts that greeted the new drink the revelers heard the cry of a young French officer, ``Vive le coq's tail!''

Maybe. In any event, the cocktail is a concoction, a mixture of alcohol (usually gin, brandy or rum) and complementary flavorings. Sometimes the cocktail is made with whiskey; sometimes with whisky.

British (Scotch) and Canadian whiskys (without an ``e'') are infrequently found in mixed drinks. American whiskeys (with an ``e'') are. Traditionally, Irish whiskey was seldom used in mixed drinks until its recent fashionable blending with coffee and cream.

There are three kinds of drinks I like to serve at parties: a full-strength cocktail (or set of cocktails), like a rum-based batch of daiquiris; milder drinks (such as wine or spritzers) and fruit juices, punch or a tasty nonalcoholic drink.

Based on a lifetime of experience in such matters, beware of silver-serving urns of iced dry martinis.

Food at cocktail parties should be festive, eye-appealing and, to some extent, filling. This is no time for cucumbers and tofu.

Provide some hot and cold dips with high levels of protein. Gonzo nachos are fine. A mound of Liptauer cheese with picnic rye is dandy. (See any comprehensive cookbook, or mix up a stick of softened butter with 8 ounces of drained cottage cheese, a tablespoon of paprika, fresh-ground black pepper, some caraway seeds, a teaspoon of dry mustard, chopped onions, a spoonful of capers, chopped chives and a half-cup of sour cream.)

Steak Tartare Balls are grand if you have the right crowd and nice lean beef, preferably freshly ground. (Add a tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce, a dash of salt, pepper and a quarter-cup of minced scallions to a pound of ground top round.) Roll the balls in caviar if you like.

If your guests refuse to eat them - they do tend to turn brown within an hour or so - either flash-fry them or throw them into a pint of hot canned consomme laced with red wine and bake them for a half-hour in a moderate oven.

One of the easiest dips I ever made (and one that drew a surprising number of compliments) consisted of a half-pound of browned, drained lean hamburger, a handful of minced onion tossed with the meat for a few minutes, a small can of bean dip, another can of tomato-chili dip and a cup of sour cream, all blended together, with a cup of chopped black olives and green onions over the top.

You can't go wrong with Seattle smoked salmon, rye bread spread with cream cheese, red onion rings (soak for a half-hour in ice water to ease the sting), a mound of capers and minced, hard-cooked eggs.

Marinated mushrooms are simple: 2/3 cup olive oil, 1/3 cup fresh lemon juice, a half-cup of water (or dry white wine), a bay leaf, some cracked black peppercorns and a pinch of salt. Bring to a simmer, toss in a pound of trimmed and rinsed mushrooms (yes, you CAN rinse the mushrooms; you are going to boil them anyway), simmer for five minutes and serve as they chill.

A bit more elaborate is traditional cheese fondue or its Mexican cousin, chili con queso. Recipes for either are ubiquitous. Serve with either cubed French bread or blue corn tortilla chips.

The most important set of ingredients, however, will be the people you ask to decimate these wonders. Nothing will make a dull group of people lively. Likewise, even two rooms of mediocre food and drink is likely to suppress the good spirits of good people.

If you assemble your guests with as much care as you mix your drinks, the evening will be memorable. Just don't make it too memorable.

MAUNY KASEBURG'S

DIETER'S DAMNATION

Serves 8 to 10

1 large clove garlic, bruised

2 tablespoons butter

8 large new potatoes, scrubbed and sliced thin (about 2 to 3 millimeters on a food processor's slicing disc, or 1/8-inch to 3/16-inch thick)

4 1/2 cups whipping cream

1 cup Parmesan cheese

3 teaspoons salt

3/4 teaspoon white pepper

3/4 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg

1. Rub the inside of a 16-inch baking dish (or an enameled cast-iron casserole, or a large cast-iron skillet) with the garlic clove. Spread the butter over the interior of the same pot.

2. Apply thin overlappings of potatoes, and season each layer with Parmesan, salt, pepper and nutmeg (be bold, but don't go crazy here). You may include cubes of ham, smoked-salmon slices, , pesto or sauteed mushrooms, but the potato gratin is fine all by itself.

3. Pour the whipping cream over the potatoes and place on a baking sheet that has a rim, such as a jelly-roll pan. Bake in a preheated 350-degree oven for about 1 3/4 to 2 hours, until the potatoes are tender and the cream is reduced. Watch the top of the gratin to avoid scorching; if the potatoes begin to brown too much cover the pan with aluminum foil.

4. Serve with champagne.

JOHN HINTERBERGER'S FOOD COLUMNS AND RESTAURANT REVIEWS APPEAR SUNDAYS IN PACIFIC AND FRIDAYS IN TEMPO. HE ALSO WRITES A WEDNESDAY COLUMN FOR THE SCENE SECTION OF THE SEATTLE TIMES. PAUL SCHMID IS A TIMES STAFF NEWS ARTIST. CECE SULLIVAN OF THE TIMES FOOD DEPARTMENT TESTED THIS RECIPE.