Cooking is about formulas and working out which jigsaw pieces you can slot in and out of the whole to make something new; but so is drinking. And when you realise how many cocktails are based on liquor + sour + sweet: daiquiris, margaritas, cosmopolitans, mojitos, gimlets, and so on, then you can be emboldened, with the right proportions, to start tinkering. In this case, the tinkering was done for me — I was served a wonderful cocktail at Caretaker and wanted to recreate it at home — but — and this is the last time I’ll say the word ‘tinkering’ — I could not resist tinkering further. Actually, it was that other classic recipe formula: reverse-engineering a trebuchet to launch you as close as possible to your desired recipe using the ingredients you have already in your pantry, which is how I landed on this Tamarillo Sidecar cocktail. That is, if I’d had white rum, it might’ve been the original tamarillo daiquiri I was served at the cocktail bar but needs must, which is an absurd thing to say when cognac is involved but — they must!

I am being somewhat impetuous and foolhardy calling this a sidecar when there’s no triple sec involved, but the aforementioned needs must, and I felt the sweet zinginess of the tamarillo stood in for some of those citrus qualities, and — it’s still cognac-based and I wanted to call it a sidecar! I also like the simplicity of this involving just one, undistracted type of alcohol, both flavour-wise and wallet-wise.

So aside from the fact that the former happened to be in my cupboard, why cognac, why tamarillo? Cognac — I used Martell VS, and you don’t need to use anything fancier yourself — has a sinewy wininess, with an almost bitter, burnt-fig sweetness, brashly mouth-burning and fireside-ishly supple at the same time. Tamarillo is buoyantly zesty and also shares that brash/elegant dichotomy — upfront, grassy tomato flavours subsiding into mouth-filling raspberry and blackberry zinginess and an almost buttery finish. Together, lengthened and further en-zinged by lemon juice and bound with agave, it forms a cocktail of unbelievable exuberance, vividly crimson and fizzing (not literally) with sparkling (also not literally) sour-sweet flavour. I am moderately in denial about how imminent November is, but I can’t deny this drink’s Christmassy potential with that flamingly festive hue.

But, what’s in your cupboard? Seeing as this started life as a daiquiri, you could and should use white rum here, with lime instead of lemon; tequila would also make sense — and I think the more savoury aspects of the tamarillo could ably withstand a salt rim — and the herbal qualities of gin could also hold their own here, though I’d stick to lemon juice still. Or vodka! I’m coming back around on the stuff and can’t deny its limber willingness to cooperate. Should you be unable to get hold of tamarillos, though who even knows what the seasons are anymore, either pomegranate — by whatever means is easiest — or passionfruit pulp, or a rakishly tart-sunset mixture of both — would be my suggestion.

If you’re really feeling like kicking up your heels here in a domestic setting, I also recommend my gingerbread espresso martini, an Aperol Spritz, my Queen’s Speech cocktail (you have to wade through a significantly more ridiculous and inaccessible cocktail recipe called The Final Scene to get to it, but don’t let me hold you back, it’s very good) and for non-instant gratification, this transcendently good homemade passionfruit liqueur.

Tamarillo Sidecar

I’m taking some liberties with the naming here but one sip of this vigorously festive drink and you’ll forgive me anything. Using a modest quantity of tamarillos to great effect, this is a simple, sour, and stunning cocktail inspired by a daiquiri I had recently at Caretaker. I’ve made it look needlessly complex with overexplaining; you only have to shake everything on the list below.

• 45ml (1.5 shots/1.5oz) cognac, I used Martell VS
• 15ml (half a shot/half oz) agave syrup
• 30ml (1 shot/1oz) fresh lemon juice
• Thoroughly scooped pulp from 1/2 a tamarillo

1: Fill a stemmed cocktail glass with ice to rapidly chill it. Pour all ingredients — 45ml cognac, 15ml agave syrup, 30ml fresh lemon juice and half the tamarillo — into one half of a set of cocktail shaking tins. Or, if you don’t have the equipment, pour it into an empty, clean jam jar.

2: Fill the liquid-bearing tin with plenty of fresh ice and slam the other tin firmly on top to seal; otherwise add some fresh ice to your jam jar and screw on the lid; either way, shake briskly and energetically for as long as you usually would. A good rule of thumb is if you can see frosting emerge on the outside of your vessel, or try simply counting to 15.

3: Smack the two tins to release them — or remove the lid of your jamjar. Tip the ice out of your waiting cocktail glass, and into it, through a sieve, strain your crimson cocktail. Drink immediately.

Makes 1 drink. I find two servings fit comfortably within a set of cocktail shakers, any more than that and you’ll need to make a second round.

Note: If you’ve got an abundance of tamarillos and are only serving yourself, feel free to throw all the flesh from one fruit into a single serving before shaking it up, rather than half. Also, if you lack the measuring equipment, a shot is two x 15ml tablespoons.

music lately:

Shake Dog Shake by the Cure, that swirling, staggering opening! The “shake shake shake shake” bit!

I Get Lonely by Janet Jackson is, as Marta said in Sondheim’s Company, my idea of honest to God sophistication. This song pines, it desiderates, it makes you want to sob but elegantly, into a martini, while wearing a trenchcoat. To say nothing of her bustier over the shirt and tie!

Only Living Girl in LA by Halsey from her very new album The Great Impersonator — it has this conversational, confessional, introspective quality and is somehow minimal and yet crammed with odd little outer-space flourishes — and then periodically she’ll laugh through a line — and then! The ending oscillates WILDLY and you need to stick around for it! When I tell you I don’t know a thing about Halsey otherwise but this is easily one of the best albums released this decade.

Epiphany from Sweeney Todd, speaking of Sondheim, as performed in concert by the barrel-voiced Brian Stokes Mitchell — I am currently fixated on the wantonness of the “tell you why, Mrs Lovett, tell you why” line, and the way he bellows “nor a hundred can assuage me” — all the rage, all the relish, all at age 65!

PS: Again I’m bringing your attention to ReliefAid’s Gaza Appeal. Their latest message on 30 October reports that their team are “tirelessly delivering safe drinking water daily to families facing unimaginable hardship”. You know what else you can do? If you’re an ASB customer, let them know you’ll be switching banks — and then do so — en masse on 29 November unless they stop investing your Kiwisaver money on companies that fund Israel. Yeah, we’re drops in a bucket but when the bucket drops, that’s a lot of water and unfortunately there’s only one thing the decision-makers will listen to and it’s money, so if you’ve got it there, threaten to get it out.