Infused brandy: chapter 2 of a cozy mystery

Brandy Alexander’s face was wrinkled. Of course, she didn’t have wrinkles - Botox, skin scrubs, laser peels, and regular sessions with her dermatologist had seen to that. Her face was scrunched up in worry - and it was definitely not a good look. Her marriage to the wealthy Cassius C. Remengton was still up in the air! She fingered the princess-cut diamond in her ring while she thought:

“Damn. That rich old bastard might get away!”

The money that she got from her trust fund was running out fast, and she wouldn’t come into inheritance until her dear old daddy and that old bat died. That old bat, of course, being her stepmother Ginny, but everyone called her “Fizzy” for some idiotic reason that Brandy never understood.

What Fizzy didn’t understand is that Brandy really needed those weekly blow-outs and regular manicures to look her best so she could land a well-to-do man like Cassius and keep the family name from going down the damn toilet. Not that her daddy, Gordon, hadn’t almost taken care of that already.

“Hellfire, Daddy! We have to have a talk right now!”

Brandy leapt up from her vanity, put down her hand mirror - real silver, thank you, not just silver plate - and ran to the study, where Gordon spent most of his time.

“Daddy? Daddy! Is that screwball woman with you? We need to talk, and we need to talk now. My very future is at stake!”

She was always good at dramatics. Before pushing the door open, she took a deep breath, squeezed some tears out, and readied herself for a hysterical sob upon entering the room.

But she needn’t have gone to all that trouble. The scream that she let out when she entered the room went from fake hysterics to real terror in a nanosecond.

Gordon - her daddy! - was on the floor, staring, glassy-eyed towards the open window, a broken gin bottle lying on the floor beside him. And there was a knife sticking out of the back of his tweed jacket, which was soaked with red, coppery-smelling blood.

* * * *

Anise Starr had never felt so perplexed about a series of events before; she knew Sweetberry Grove and its residents like the back of her hand, but ever since the arrival of the town’s new lawyer, Benedict E. Nelson, Esquire, her world was topsy-turvy. He was handsome, yes, and debonair, and definitely out of her league: he brought with him a Manhattan sensibility - uptown, cultured, and soaked in the kind of intoxicating urbanity that she herself would never experience. Not in Sweetberry Grove, anyway.

Two days after Benedict arrived, the wealthy and beloved Gordon Alexander had dropped dead. Not of a heart attack. Of a knife in the back.

And the prime suspect? His adoring daughter, Brandy Alexander.

It didn’t make a lick of sense. Brandy and Gordon had always been so close - “Like father, like daughter!”, Brandy’s stepmom used to say. This always confused Anise - Brandy lacked her father’s full beard (she really only had a mustache when she forgot to use her depilatory cream) and rogue sense of style.

But Brandy’s fingerprints were all over the broken gin bottle that was laying next to the corpse. And the handle of the knife? It not only bore her fingerprints, but it also had chips of fingernail polish on it. Her fingernail polish. Cherry Berry Blast. The local Woolworth’s always had it in stock, just for Brandy.

It was the damn nail polish that landed Brandy in the clink - and had also landed her the handsome Nelson as her lawyer.

Rumor had it that Cassius C. Remengton wasn’t happy about this turn of events.

Brandy was spending an awful lot of time with Benedict E. Nelson.

But then again -- so was Anise.


Shout out to GoogleDocs: Dave and I enjoyed our infused brandies while writing this jointly tonight!

Bonus entry: infusion cocktails!

Dear Dave,

I came to know brandy alexanders when I was in graduate school. 

Feist's The Reminder had come out a few months before I left for Pittsburgh, and I quite enjoyed the track "Brandy Alexander". One night, perhaps driven by this song and the exhausting nature of reading countless academic articles, I decided to order one at a local bar in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood. 

From the look on the bartender's face, it occurred to me that this wasn't a drink commonly ordered. But she mixed one up anyway. And it was heavenly. 

So tonight, after driving back from a weekend at my brother's, I decided to use one of your brandy infusions and take a new spin on an old favorite. 

I chose the fig and vanilla infusion as the base liquor.

"Always gets me into trouble/but that's another matter."

1.5 oz of vanilla fig brandy

.75 oz cream

sprinkle of nutmeg

It's not the exact measurements and components of a true brandy alexander. I felt that the creme de cacao might compromise the fig flavor, so I eliminated that ingredient altogether. It was a savvy decision: the result is an absolute revelation. 

The cream rounds out the flavor of the brandy, similar to the way cream affects the flavor profile of coffee. The fig doesn't take a backseat - if anything, it's enhanced while the vanilla falls a little into the background. Cream, therefore, is actually the ideal companion for this concoction. 

In fact, I think this is the only one of your infusions that would have worked as an Alexander; the pear infusion wasn't robust enough and there's no way in hell I'm going to mix the cinnamon & prune with anything. I'm still dreading the end of that bottle. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll finish up this cocktail whilst listening to Feist. Because I'm classy like that. 

Always,

Joe

What did you put in that brandy, Joe?

Dearest Joe,

As you know, I watch way too much of a show called Deadly Women on the Investigation Discovery channel via Netflix. I made you watch an episode under duress once. You'll remember Candice DeLong, the FBI profiler who hosts the show, who has a deadpan one-liner for every situation.

Like Anise Starr, our cozy mystery heroine, I was a teeny tiny bit nervous about drinking your brandy. I could picture, just for a second, you being featured on an episode of Deadly Women. I would, of course, be played by a handsomely aging Mark Paul Gosselaar. Since, in this scenario, you are the would-be killer, you'd almost certainly be played by someone less attractive, unless they decided this was one of those situations where a handsome older man wooed a young innocent damsel, only to bump her off later. 

No, dear. I don't think you're trying to kill me. 

But your first brandy, while it had a really gorgeous dark caramel color, with hints of red and orange, tasted funny. It smelled like almonds and cherries and the strong cherry aftertaste was nice. But the immediate taste on my tongue was rather...medicinal. Medicinal, almonds...it really does sound like what cyanide is supposed to taste like. That's not to say it was entirely unpleasant, and who would give me cyanide-laced brandy in such an adorable jar? 

Yeah, I'm pretty lucky.

For a brandy that had such earthy flavors - cherry and almond (my guesses were right!) - it was surprisingly thin-tasting. The cherries and almonds were present, but it wasn't rich or viscous like my brandies were - I suspected it was because you'd used almond extract. I, too, thought about infusing with nuts but it looked way too complicated. I'm really impressed you persevered. I also wonder if the cherry flavor was light because you used Morello cherries, which were already preserved and didn't have a lot of flavors to bring to the brandy party. 

Brandy #2 on top, Brandy #1 on bottom.

Your second brandy, though, was pretty awesome. It was a really gorgeous amber color - both of your brandies came out a lot prettier than mine. 

Look how pretty brandy #2 was!

This smelled so much like vanilla - it was a really lovely sweet, deep smell to round off some of the brandy's natural bite. Here are my notes from the initial tasting, typed here for legibility's sake:

Joe forgot himself and gave me a hint, but it is no use. All I get is brandy and vanilla. Supposedly there is a fruit here. It's not citrus or berry. Good God, I hope it's not something like honeydew. Are kumquats a fruit? What do they taste like? How do I spell them?  

What IS this? 

I also guessed you'd put in allspice or nutmeg. Alas, I was wrong: you had made a pear-flavored brandy, too! The pear in both of our brandies was not very pronounced which, in hindsight, makes sense - pear is a bit of a weak flavor when compared to brandy. The flavor of your brandy though, is very subtle and delicious. I could see us with snifters of this curled up by the fire some weekend when we get snowed in, with our cats, Ouiser and Dr. Bombay, curled up in our laps. 

You'll look deep into my eyes and I'll wink at you, pour more brandy in your glass and say "Darling, be sure to drink up now! We don't want any of your delicious brandy to go to waste." And I'll smile, maybe laugh a little bit and set my glass down on the hearth. And you'll look at your glass, look at me not drinking mine, and remember this post and those episodes of Deadly Women. And maybe you'll wonder, for a split second, what I've infused into our latest round of brandies. And I'll look at you lovingly...

...and ask: "What's wrong, Joe dear? I used your very own recipe..."*

We ended up with some lovely brandies this time, cyanide or no, and I can't wait to do this again with you. I'm already excited about our theme next month, and about making some of these infused liquors again next fall. 

Maybe we can watch an episode of Deadly Women while we taste? 

Yours,

Dave

*Okay, just in case anyone's concerned: I'm kidding. I certainly wouldn't blog about my mariticidal plans before I carried them out. 

Dave, the brandy infusionary

Dave made three brandies because his genius cannot be contained in just one or two infusions.

----------------------

Dave,

I scrawled these notes last weekend while tasting with you. I'm reprinting them here, but with some added commentary for posterity's sake.

Let's break it down, infusion-by-infusion.

Infusion #1

Not sure what the detritus is, and I don't care. 

I didn't try to guess this one since it was the bonus infusion. But it is lovely: pear & clove.

I like how the light shines through it, like an illuminated honey. 

Infusion #2

Someone is quite fond of this infusion

Look: murky, but not unpleasant

Scent: Really intense and (appropriately) intoxicating. There's an exotic earthiness to it.

I was really excited about this. "Maple cinnamon!" I cooed at you. But you arched your eyebrows and shook your head.

Taste: Whoa. What magic is this? I can taste the really strong flavor. It's triggering really vivid memories, but I can't quite place them. I think of snowy days, winter personified. Heaven. Absolute heaven.

My guess: Maple apple

Actually: Cinnamon prune

As you can see from the photo, I'm about a serving away from this ingenious concoction disappearing. I wonder how long it will keep...

Infusion #3

Molasses?

Look: Motor oil. Plain and simple. 

Scent: Raisins! Raisin bran! Raisins and honey! 

I think I shouted these at you while smelling. 

This concoction has a heady, luxurious scent... but there's also something slightly off about it: a heavy ripeness. You can almost see fruit swelled with flavor. My salivary glands go into overdrive, and this is not something that raisins do. 

But I still smell raisins. 

Taste: Whoa. WHOA. Blackberries? Blackberry & vanilla! There's an underbite to it, a cross between something sweet and spicy, but the sweetness wins out. I'm still getting a big hit of raisin. Really big. 

My guess: Raisin & vanilla

Actually: Fig & vanilla

We have decided to dedicate four months of the year to infusions for this blog: February, April, August, and October. 

And dearest, I need to up my game. 

Seriously.

Joe

February Liquor: infused brandies

This month, Dave and I decided to take our first detour from the blog.

No, gentle readers - all two of you - we are not changing directions entirely.

Living apart from each other is difficult, but it has allowed us opportunities to surprise each other with consistently excellent ideas. In early January, we found ourselves discussing the Hallmarkishness of Valentine's Day. Borne from this conversation was the idea that maybe infusing brandies for each other would be the perfect gift.

The Rules:

• Do not share infusion ingredients, no matter how excited you are.
• Create two infusions to swap at the end of the month (which would give us time to craft entries prior to Valentine's Day).

That's it. That's all we agreed to. 

We started in earnest immediately after the conversation. Both of us trolled websites and blogs for ideas, and we settled for our flavors. 

Neither of us shared our ingredients, though we were both guilty of texting one another while at the grocery store, dropping vague hints - that were so vague neither of us could have guessed anything based on them. 

This past weekend, before knowing the infusion ingredients, we smelled each other's brandies and wrote down our immediate thoughts of what was in them. Then we had a small taste and wrote our next guess. Then we made the big reveal. 

What follows this month will be our initial thoughts during the smelling and tasting followed by our various successes and failures.