Whether it's straight up and chilled, or on ice with orange, any excuse to drink Dubonnet is a good one. I feel like it could be 1925 and I'm drinking at a bar in Lyon with Ernest Hemingway. With its notes of clove and sweet spice, Dubonnet Rouge is an ideal match for Summer's ripe red fruit. My new favorite way to enjoy it is in a cocktail with muddled Bing cherries, brandy, and bitters; the cocktail reminds me of a cherry bounce old fashioned, only brighter, and with a bigger kick. Make the most of your cherry stash when you read on.
Ever since I got acquainted with Dubonnet, the old-school French aperitif has held a spot in my liquor cabinet. It also plays an important role in my drink of the moment.
I discovered the St. Tropez by reading the serving suggestions on the back of the Dubonnet label. With only two ingredients, it couldn't be more uncomplicated (in fact, the instructions for the drink are so casual that there are no measurements specified at all). Call me cheesy — and chalk it up to the cocktail's chic name, its effortless recipe, or the romanticism of European predinner drinks — but when I'm sipping on a St. Tropez, I immediately feel transported to the sun-soaked sands of the French Riviera.
I've enjoyed many variations of this at home and in bars, and found that I like it best with equal parts of the two ingredients. Find out what they are when you read more
I've always been a complete novice to the category of spirits known as aperitifs. These old-school standbys — which include liqueurs, dry champagne, and fortified wines — rose to fame in Europe in the 1800s, and have remained popular ever since.
When I received a bottle of Dubonnet ($11.99), I decided to begin my aperitif studies. The French fortified wine, originally developed in 1846, is available in two varieties: rouge and blanc. Dubonnet is made from wine that's had additional alcohol added to it, which preserves the wine, makes it sweeter, and increases its alcohol content.
I've always thought of Dubonnet — a proprietary blend of herbs, spices, and peels — as something more fitting for my grandmother. But surprisingly, my first sip was warm and rich, and had a nose and flavor that reminded me of tawny port. It was sweeter than brandy, yet drier than a dessert wine, and incredibly smooth given its price tag.
I'm looking forward to drinking some again tonight and can't wait to experiment with Dubonnet in classic cocktails. If you've ever tried this aperitif, what are your thoughts on it? Have you ever tasted a spirit that was incredibly different from what you thought it would be?