Bénédictine: chapter 3 of a cozy mystery

"Order! Order in the courtroom!" Judge Angus Turra bellowed as he banged his gavel, banged it harder than Anise had ever seen. She idly wondered if Judge Turra had a backup, in case he destroyed this one.

Brandy was at the defendant's table, nearly curled into a ball in the wooden chair that seemed enormous, given her thin, wobbly frame. Her striking amber-colored hair and demure powder blue dress stood out against the dark chair, dark table, dark judge's bench - dark everything, really. But even if she hadn't stood out for being so beautiful and, in contrast, bright, she would have stood out for the siren-like, snot-filled wailing she'd been emitting since she came up the steps of the Sweetberry Grove Courthouse.

"BAAA WA THEY THIN KIIII MAA DAAAA!!!" she wailed, for at least the eighty-third time since Anise had come and sat unobtrusively in the back of the courtroom.

"Young lady!" bellowed Judge Turra "You'll have to calm down or I'll have no choice but to send you to jail for contempt! Or is it disturbing the peace? Aw hell, bailiff, can I just throw her in the holding cell for being damned annoying!?"

The bailiff, shaking with repressed laughter, could only shake his head vigorously: no.

Benedict E. Nelson, Brandy's lawyer, leaned close and tried to whisper into her ear.

What a brave man, Anise thought, getting his handsome face so close to Brandy, who was flailing like a garden hose on full blast.

"Now, Brandy," Benedict said, "you know that they have to go through this process, since your fingerprints were found on the murder weapon, to clear you of killing your daddy so that they can get on with finding the real killer. The more you cooperate, the quicker this will all be over with."

"BAAAIIIIIII CAAAAAAAANT!" Brandy wailed, reaching a pitch that Anise feared might bring every stray dog in Sweetberry Grove to the courtroom.

"Yes, my dear. Yes, you can," Benedict said to her. And winked.

Anise felt her stomach starting to lurch. He winked!? At Brandy!? Really, what could a handsome, smart, well-dressed, successful man like Benedict see in... her!?

The ploy worked, though; Brandy's voice came down out of the stratosphere and back into the range of normal human hearing, though it still sounded like gibberish to Anise.

"Whaaa I have dooooo?" she asked in a tired, forlorn, but strangely hopeful voice, like a kid who has just been told that, despite having a tantrum, they can have a super gummy light saber ninja candy. Or whatever it is kids were into stuffing into their mouths these days.

Yvette Altelier, the prosecuting attorney, had already lost patience, though.

"Your Honor," Altelier cooed, smoothing her lilac-colored power suit's skirt. She stalked toward the bench on stiletto heels that could have poked holes in floors that weren't made of solid oak, and laid her hand on the judge's bench.

Anise Starr's stomach flipped. Altelier was a wasp in court, and her stinger was pointed at Brandy.

"Your Honor," she repeated, her aquiline eyes shifted mercilessly in Brandy's direction, "enough of these histrionics. If it pleases, the court, the defense calls to the stand its first witness: Ginny Alexander."

Judge Turra nodded.

The courtroom doors swung open dramatically, and in stalked Ginny Alexander. She was dressed in a striking Marchesa dress from the spring 2016 collection. Sure, it was from the ready-to-wear line, but it was appropriate mourning attire: black, striking, and the mark of a powerful woman in control of her body and mind.

Ginny sneered imperceptibly at Brandy as she strode by. She situated herself at the witness stand, straightening her back and gazing icily at the jury.

For the second time in half a minute, Anise Starr felt her stomach sink. Ginny Alexander was no shrinking violet, and it wasn't a secret that she despised her step-daughter. Anise watched Benedict fiddle nervously with the hem of his suit coat.

"Mrs. Alexander," Yvette Altelier began.

"Rickey," Ginny interrupted. "I reverted to my maiden name after that coward murdered my Gordon."

A buzz of excitement vibrated through the courtroom.

"Ms. Rickey," Yvette corrected. "Tell me about your relationship with Gordon Alexander."

Ginny's porcelain hand fluttered up to her throat, grazing the powdered skin with apprehension. "Gordon Alexander was the love of my life. He found me at a time where I was at my lowest. I had just lost my darling Pomeranian, Schatzi, in a tragic fire. I was bereft, unmoored - an absolute disaster. But Gordon saw past that. He saw that underneath my grief, under my heartbreak, there was still a spark. And when he asked me to marry him, six weeks after we met, I knew I couldn't resist."

"Couldn't resist his money!" Brandy cried out, desperately.

"Order in the court!" Judge Turra hollered, banging his gavel.

Brandy didn't seem to hear. "She never loved him! She's the one who had him killed - just to get her inheritance!"

"I said ORDER!" Judge Turra bellowed, his face becoming purple.

Brandy began to sob hysterically. "But she did! She did."

The gavel hammered again and again until it splintered on the bench.

An eerie silence filled the courtroom. Dust mites floated in the waning sunlight.

Judge Turra glared at Brandy, sweat glistening on his brow, anger emanating from his every pore.

But before he could say another word, a soft sob erupted the silence.

A sob from Ginny Rickey.

A cast of eyes turned to her. Her hand had fluttered to her mouth.

"No," Ginny whispered. "No. She's right. I did want him dead. But so did..."

And that's when the shot rang out.

Bénédictine Death Match

This month our alcohol was Bénédictine, a heady mix of different spices and herbs kept a trade secret by the maker.

We've each already created classic Bénédictine drinks, so now we're going out on a limb and trying our own.

Dave's concoction, reviewed by Joe

As above, so below

Holding this drink to my nose, I smell apple cider. That's totally insane, because, as far as I know, there isn't any apple cider in the apartment.

Taking a sip, I realize the smell of apple cider is actually the sugar around the rim that has been imbued with... what, I don't know? The sweat of Dave's efforts?

Here's also what I get when I taste it: tequila.

You know that scene in Pee Wee Herman's Big Adventure when he dances to "Tequila" on the bar? Of course you do. Well. That's kind of what I feel like doing right now. Putting on clogs and dancing. Not, mind you, because I like tequila, but because this is what I always want to do when I have tequila. It goes without saying that I am a mess when I drink tequila.

Which is why I don't drink tequila.

But anyway. This is pretty good. The Benedictine is a little lost in the mix, probably because my brain is too busy working its way through the tequila.

I give this a solid 3.5 stars. It's not bad. Really, Dave. It's not bad.


Joe's drink, reviewed by Dave.

Tufts did not endorse this photo

Joe's drink smells like orange juice. Good, fresh-squeezed orange juice. I'm not getting any alcohol, or any other smells - just a really strong orange scent, almost like those Clorox wipes that are orange-y.

It tastes like there is a lot of Bénédictine in here though. A lot of it - it really comes through. I actually don't really taste orange, except for a bit of bite up front, or a slight aftertaste. Since the Bénédictine is mixed with other things, it's not as viscous and heavy - the orange really lightens it up. But I'm not really getting any melding of the two flavors - there's Bénédictine and orange and Bénédictine and orange and ne'er the two shall meet.

However, it's not bad. I'd be interested - horror of horrors - to see what this tastes like with a hint of orange soda in it, or orange juice. Then it could be called the Sunkist Monk or something.

The hard thing, though, is I'm not sure when I'd want to drink this. The orange makes me feel like I should be wearing lots of flowy linen and swinging on a swing that's hanging from a tree next to the veranda. But the Bénédictine is still so dark and heavy, it makes me feel like there's a storm on its way, or all the leaves are about to turn on the tree that holds the swing and fall to the ground in one big, swift mess. And the linen is certainly not warm enough.

So I'll give this a solid 3, maybe 3.5, if that's how we're doing this. It's, well...

...interesting.

I love you still, even if we're not quite master mixologists - or even Fischer Price-level mixologists - yet.

The Big Reveal
Ingredients for each concoction, so you can try it at home - or, if you have any sense, avoid this combination of ingredients.

Joe's Drink: The Cara-Cara Boo-Boo 

You are an inspiration to us all, Alanna.

1.5 oz. vodka

1 oz. Bénédictine

juice from 1/4 Cara-Cara orange

two dashes Angostura Bitters

splash of créme de cassis

(As with all things créme de cassis, of course, you can't taste it)

Dave's Drink: Untitled, Op. 1, No. 1

1.5 oz. tequila

0.5 oz Bénédictine

One dash grapefruit bitters

Combine all ingredients and pour into a glass rimmed with cinnamon sugar. Garnish with a grapefruit segment, if you wish (mine fell into the drink just before I took the picture). 

Antibes

Dearest Joe,

So, we picked Bénédictine for this month's liquor. I think, because it had one foot in winter and one foot in spring. We both picked cocktails, though, that bring out its springtime-ish notes.

I'm glad I didn't try to make up some crazy new cocktail using Bénédictine - it may have come out even worse than our experiments with Creme de Cassis. Instead, I went for a tried and true recipe that used things that I already had on hand. It's called the Antibes, and it's delicious.

So, Antibes is a seaside town in France that looks like a lovely place to visit:

Antibes, from tripadvisor.com

And, apparently, we should go. The town looks absolutely gorgeous and there are beaches all over its coast. It also has two fascinating looking museums. There's the Picasso Museum, which is housed in a beautiful restored castle, originally built in the 1700s. Picasso came to visit a painter friend in Antibes and ended up staying for six months painting, sculpting, and making tapestries, many of which he donated to the town when he left. They formed the core collection of the museum.

There's also an Absinthe Museum which, unfortunately, has very little information available online. But it looks like there's a kick-ass bar in the basement:

Image from seeantinbes.com

But until we can book that ticket, we can drink this delicious cocktail named after this lovely place.

It's a mixture of Bénédictine, grapefruit juice, and gin. Simple. That's it! The grapefruit juice - mine was fresh-squeezed, of course - compliments the sweet notes of the Bénédictine and the slightly sour, Christmas tree-like taste of the gin.

You combine 1 1/2 oz, gin, 1/2 oz. Bénédictine, and 2 oz. grapefruit juice in a shaker, shake and strain. If you have an orange you can garnish it.

Then you sip it and imagine you're on a beach in Antibes. Preferably, of course, with me, dear.

Love,

Dave

Who killed Laura Palmer?

Dear Dave,

I have never seen the television show Twin Peaks, but I remember it being a large part of the zeitgeist when I was in 8th grade.

Here's what I knew at the time:

• There was a character named Laura Palmer who was murdered.
• The show was supposedly quite weird.

Here's what I know now:

• There was a character named Laura Palmer who was murdered.
• The show was directed by David Lynch, so it absolutely, positively has to be weird. 

Have you ever seen a David Lynch film? 

I've seen one. 

It was called Mulholland Drive. 

I liked it, but I didn't understand it. At all. 

Anyway.

For Bénédictine month, I chose to make a drink called Twin Peaks. 

Frosty & aloof - like the show?

Ingredients:

• dash of Triple Sec
• 2 measures bourbon
• 1 measure Bénédictine
• 1 measure lime juice

When flipping through cocktail recipes, I initially wanted a gin-based mix... but once I stumbled upon this lovely, my heart was sold. 

C'mon. You know me. 

Bourbon. 

I have a Pavlovian response to it. 

It can't be coincidence that this drink is called Twin Peaks.

There's a remarkable complexity to it, and according to the Wikipedia plot synopsis, so, too, does the television show. 

However... I didn't taste the Bénédictine at first. I was slightly disappointed. 

But my disappointment didn't last long, because - goddamn - this is an incredible cocktail. And that's not just the alcohol speaking.

Ok. 

Maybe it is. 

Because this is one boozy drink. 

It's hard to describe the cocktail. It doesn't taste like bourbon. It doesn't taste like Bénédictine. It doesn't taste like lime. This indicates one thing: these ingredients complement each other beautifully, creating the perfect mix. 

There are moments where you might detect a hint of each ingredient, though. Here's the lime, tickling your tastebuds as the drink lingers on the palette. Here's the Bénédictine, intoxicatingly mysterious, holding your interest with its complex combination of flavors. Here's the bourbon, being the big, bossy badass it is - announcing its beautiful headiness amongst the combatting flavors.

Dave, I love this drink. It's the perfect combination of profiles: a sharp sour note, a mellow sweetness. A big hit of flavor. Even though we're at the tail end of winter (though you wouldn't know it with the unseasonably warm day we're having - I'm enjoying an evening on the balcony as I write this entry), I can safely say that this cocktail would be perfect for a summer twilight. A lovely end to a lovely day. 

It is a five-star drink, through and through. 

Also: I didn't read too much about Twin Peaks. The brief synopsis I read was enough to make me think that it might be a show we'd enjoy. 

Even if it is just a weird excursion into mindfuckery. Kinda like the drink.

Love,

Joe

PS: While writing this article, I was listening to the new Amanda Palmer single, "Machete", on repeat. It's a bit of a meta-reference. How so? Amanda Palmer's debut solo album was titled Who Killed Amanda Palmer?, a sly reference to Twin Peaks. It's refreshing to know that her solo output is as good as what she did with The Dresden Dolls. 

Nerdy Librarian Citations

Whitaker, Julie & Ian Whitelaw. A Pocket Guide to Cocktails. Bath: Parragon Books, 2006. Print. 

"Twin Peaks". Wikipedia. Wikipedia, 2016. Web. 10 March 2016. <http://en.wikipedia.org>.

March Liquor: Benedictine

So pretty we bought two!

Bénédictine is super-secret.

Like a French James Bond.

Or a Hercule Poirot.

Or the Colonel’s blend of 27 spices.*

The ingredients of Bénédictine are a trade secret, like a surprising number of liqueurs on the market. There’s much speculation involving the ingredients. Our hero, Amy Stewart, suggests the following ingredients: vanilla, nutmeg, allspice, angelica, and lemon balm. She also maintains that the makers of Bénédictine admit to an infusion of saffron.

Liquor.com adds hyssop to the ingredient list. Their striking claim that only three people on planet earth know the recipe adds to the intrigue of this fascinating concoction.

Since we had our first taste over Skype, Dave and I are recreating the kinda-but-not-really conversation we had for our experience.

Dave: CAN WE OPEN IT YET?

Joe: Calm down. I haven't gotten onto Skype.

Dave: I ALREADY OPENED THE BOTTLE. BUT THERE’S A SECOND CAP ON IT. OMG HURRY. I CAN’T HOLD OUT MUCH LONGER.

Joe: Please stop yelling at me.

Dave: OK FINE.

Joe: *frowny emoji*

We began, as usual, by smelling the liqueur.  

Joe: I wonder if it smells like Drambuie. It sure does look like Drambuie. It’s viscous and honey-colored. (smells) What in tarnation is this magic?

Dave: Tarnation? How old are you? It smells a bit like licorice in the bottle - it’s heavy and herb-y and a little bit medicinal.

Joe: The scent is alcohol forward.  I’m getting rubbing alcohol now. Spicy, lovely rubbing alcohol. Rubbing alcohol that I want to put in my mouth. There’s almost a grassy scent, maybe? Herbaceous for sure.

Dave: Maybe you should just call it herbalicious. *rimshot* When poured into a glass, it is a little disappointing. It’s not some cool color like green or purple. It’s just brown. Boring brown. Only a little more golden-amber than bourbon or brandy, but a whole lot more viscous and thick. It actually smells a bit like some of our brandy infusions at week 2 or so.

Joe: Yeah. Those little trails?

Dave: Legs.

Joe: Yeah. Those. Really taking a long time to drip down the glass.

And then the moment we were waiting for. The tasting.

Dave: This tastes nothing at all like it smells. Like when you were little and decided you really wanted to taste vanilla extract because you were gay and always cooked with your mother and also maybe had your own play cooking set, but then you tried it and it was disgusting and you decided you never wanted to eat anything made from it again. Or maybe that was just me.

Joe: Nope. Sounds about right.

Dave: Unlike vanilla extract, though, Bénédectine tastes delicious and smells like alcohol, not the other way around.

Joe: It’s way better than how Drambuie tastes on its own. There are about 100 flavors that hit at once. Spicy and complex. A bite hits the palate immediately, and there’s a flavor that comes through about a second after the alcohol is in your mouth that is absolutely phenomenal. And then it smooths into something lovely, something very vanilla - but almost earthy.

Dave: There’s a really bright, forward taste of honey - or maybe you just think honey because this is so thick and sweet. But not syrupy-sweet. I’m also getting a slight hint of citrus at the end, or maybe that’s just my tongue finally recognizing “oh hey - there’s actually alcohol in this!” I’m still getting licorice or root beer towards the end, right before the citrusy finish.

Joe: God, this is luxurious. The entire experience is close to indescribable. It’s the taste of Christmas cookie spices and autumn sunshine and falling asleep in a field of wildflowers.

Dave: Or maybe you could just say it tastes like unicorns and sunshine and rainbows and happiness and puppies.

Joe: Also accurate.

Dave: Anyway. The real question is: why the hell do people ever mix this with anything? Why don’t more people just order straight Bénédictine, maybe slightly warmed, at bars all over the East Coast? Why haven’t hipsters glommed onto this already? Or old people? This seems like an old person after-dinner drink. Or maybe something that all those 1960s housewives who snuck nips of the cooking sherry would hide in the back of the cabinet.

Joe: Like Drambuie is best when paired with scotch, I wonder, too, if Bénédictine is only supposed to be paired with brandy. Being a French liqueur, was it made specifically to pair with the refined alcohol? I’ve had B&Bs, and they’re just lovely. But what else on earth could possibly mix with this? Not a clear liquor. Vodka & Bénédictine? No, thanks.

Dave: OOH! I’ve got it! This tastes like FLAT ROOT BEER SYRUP. But actually delicious and something you would want to ingest.

Joe: Oh my god. You’re absolutely on point with that. To me, outside a B&B, the only way to drink this - and truly appreciate it - would be neat, all by its lonesome. Ooh. Or maybe in warm apple cider! I bet that would taste delicious.

*Bénédictine, interestingly, is also made of 27 herbs and spices, according to the blurb on the back of the bottle.

Nerdy Librarian Citations:
Steward, Amy. The Drunken Botanist: The Plants That Create the World's Great Drinks. Chapel Hill: Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2013. Print.

"Bénédictine." Liquor.com. Liquor.com, 2016. <http://www.liquor.com>. 1 March 2016. Web.