Esquire’s
Take On Layering Fall 2013
Deep Rich Colors
FALL2013 f
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Ask Nick
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Sullivan
fig. 1
T H E E S Q U I R E FAS H I O N D I R E CT O R W I L L N OW TA K E YO U R Q U E ST I O N S
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BENJAMIN FORMAN SAN DIEGO, CALIF.
I’LL BE ATTENDING TWO BLACK-TIE EVENTS IN THE NEXT SIX MONTHS. MY TUX IS TEN YEARS OLD AND BADLY IN NEED OF REPLACEMENT. DO I NEED TO SPEND FOR A NEW TUX, OR CAN I GET AWAY WITH A NICE BLACK SUIT? CHARLIE GORDON ATLANTA, GA.
Charlie, I’d dearly love to say, “Fk it, get a black suit. Who cares?” Instead I get to sound like an old fart and tell you, bottom line, that if it says “black tie” on the invite, you should wear black tie. If you’re not comfortable wearing your old tuxedo, spring for a new one and comfort yourself knowing you won’t have to replace it for a decade. Or just wear the old one. I had a slightly odd friend at college who wore a tux at any and every opportunity, including breakfast. ESQUIRE
It bore the scars of moonlit cow-tipping exploits (this was in England), a veritable pub full of alcohol stains, and many other questionable discolorations. And the last time I saw him wearing it, a sleeve was missing. However, it was still technically and morally a tux, and even a tux that isn’t terribly right [Fig. 3] is rarely entirely wrong. IS IT EVER ACCEPTABLE TO WEAR A TIE WITH YOUR SHIRT UNTUCKED [FIG. 4]? AND IF SO, HOW CAN I PULL OFF THE LOOK? JOE LUTZ WILKES-BARRE, PA.
fig. 3
always make a dependable combination. And you can tell your gainsayers that, if anything, black dress shoes are soon to make a comeback. You mark my words.
fig. 4
Joe . . . your name rhymes serendipitously with No. If your name was Justin, I’d still say no. THREE DIFFERENT PEOPLE THIS MONTH HAVE TOLD ME THAT WEARING BLACK SHOES WITH A NAVY SUIT IS DATED. IS THIS TRUE?
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BRIAN MINK NEW YORK, N. Y.
I can’t see how it’s remotely dated. Certainly, brown shoes have become more fashionable with a navy suit of late—in fact, now that I think about it, I almost never wear black shoes anymore. Regardless, smart black dress shoes and a dark navy suit
fig. 6
SHOULD THE CREASE ON A PAIR OF SUIT PANTS GO ALL THE WAY TO THE WAISTBAND IF IT’S A PAIR OF FLAT-FRONT PANTS? WHAT ABOUT THE BACK OF THE PANTS? MARTIN GOH LOCATION WITHHELD
Martin, I can’t believe I’ve never been asked this before! Traditionally, the ironed-in crease runs from the ankle all the way to the pleat at the waistband—but that’s only if there is a crease at the waistband. With flat-front pants, the pleat generally fizzles out at the top of the thigh (where it disappears under the jacket) or about six inches from the waistband and somewhere around the same height at the back.
GOT A QUESTION FOR NICK SULLIVAN? E-MA IL HIM AT ESQST YLE@HEARST.COM.
I L LU ST R AT I O N BY B E R N D S C H I F F E R D E C K E R
You’re right, Benjamin. It’s kind of hard to explain, but matching up things just so can get a little weird. Instead of syncing up the shades exactly, try instead to match the depth of the various colors involved. Because the colors are roughly the same intensity, they kind of work without being the same hue. I have no idea why this works, but it does.
Want to talk to Nick Sullivan? Download the revolutionary (and free!) Talk to Esquire app on your iPad or iPhone—or scan here using your Netpage app—and interact with Nick to figure out what to wear on your next big night out. For more information, turn to page 32.
F O R S T O R E I N F O R M AT I O N S E E P A G E 1 5 4 .
I RECENTLY BOUGHT A PAIR OF SLATECOLORED CHUKKA BOOTS DO I NEED TO INVEST IN A MATCHING BELT, OR CAN I STICK WITH MY BROWN BELT NOTE: I THINK THAT MATCHING THINGS TOO PERFECTLY IS A LITTLE WEIRD.
Layering
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T H E S I T U AT I O N A L D R E S S E R
Three Degrees of
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[[1]] You’re heading to the office: If most of your day is spent inside and your only exposure to cold is walk-
ing to and from your car, take it easy with this lightweight bonded-cotton shell that blocks wind and rain. It doesn’t do much to keep you warm, but then you don’t need it to. Cotton raincoat two-button cotton jacket and suede shoes cotton oxford shirt and cotton trousers. [2] You’re running around all day: You’ll be outside. You’ll be inside. And any given indoor space might be inferno-like or barely heated. You want flexibility, so opt for a heavier sweater (to do the majority of the warming) and a medium-weight jacket that you can slip on and off as needed. wool-blend shawl-collar sweater; cotton oxford shirt; cotton jeans; suede boots. [3] You’re gonna be outside. For a while: You want a top layer that’s both waterresistant and warm as hell—see: this streamlined puffer—but to avoid overheating, choose a thinner sweater as your middle layer. Nylon-and-down puffer coat; cotton-and-cashmere sweater; cotton shirt; cotton corduroy trousers; suede boots; wool scarf.
COMING SOON!
D AV I D W O N
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THE MYTH OF MICRO
THE BEST EXPERIMENTAL WHISKEY COMES FROM NOT-SO-SMALL DISTILLERIES
E’S DR AV
KING IN
WHAT D
nnovation in booze is supposed to come from the little guys—the dozens upon dozens of new whiskey distilleries that have opened around the country over the last few years. Unlike the old-line Kentucky and Tennessee outfits, the Jims and the Jacks, these guys are each making at most a barrel’s worth a day, every drop under the personal supervision of a young artisan who’s passionately committed to extending the parameters of the craft. (That’s the theory, anyway.) While much of what they’re making comes off the still as standard bourbon or rye, there’s also a lot of less-standard stuff: straight corn whiskey, malt whiskey, millet whiskey, sorghum whiskey, spelt whiskey, whiskey made from mixed barley, oats, and rye, all kinds of things. The problem is whiskey is an interaction of two different processes: distillation and maturation. That maturation takes a long time to do its best work, a minimum of 4 years, a sweet spot of 10 or 12, and well beyond that in exceptional cases. Almost all American microdistilleries are un-
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der ten years old, and most of them are well under that. If they want to play around with fully matured whiskey, they’ve got to either buy it or, you know, wait. Meanwhile, some of those big old-line distillers have caught the innovation bug, and they’ve got plenty of mature whiskey to play with. Sometimes that results in bourbon flavored with cherries or whatnot, about which the less said the better. Far better to take the latest installment in Woodford Reserve’s Master’s Collection, [1] Four Wood ($100), a regular Woodford Reserve that’s been “finished” in sherry barrels, port barrels, and barrels made of maple after aging in oak (the standard wood). It’s like the regular Woodford but thicker, richer, chewier. Heaven Hill’s innovation series is the Parker’s Heritage Collection, named after its longtime master distiller, Parker Beam. This year’s installment is the [2] Master Distiller’s Blend of Mashbills ($80), which combines barrels from two lots of bourbon, both 11 years old: one made with rye in the mash and the other with wheat. It’s one of the
best bourbons we’ve had in years, a titanic whiskey. You’ve got to add water— it’s over 130 proof—but it’s Want to talk to David a shame to add too much. Wondrich? While the Woodford Download the revolutionary and the Parker’s experi(and free!) Talk ment with the end of the to Esquire app on your iPad maturation process, Bufor iPhone—or falo Trace’s Experimenscan here using your Netpage tal Collection was being app—and intertinkered with as far back act with Dave to discover a new as 1987. Previous years’ cocktail that’s releases have included just for you. For more innine-year-old whiskeys formation, see page 32. made with oats or rice in the mash bill (the latter has the startling aroma of Japanese rice crackers), 19- and 23-year-old bourbons aged in giant French oak casks rather than American oak barrels (very different results), and a host of other fascinating things. One of the most recent releases is the [3] Hot Box Toasted Barrel ($46), which spent more than 16 years in barrels toasted at high heat and steamed before assembly to bring out more flavor from the wood. It worked. The microdistilleries will get there, in time. In some cases, they’re damn close. One new distillery, [4] Hillrock Estate ($80), in New York’s Hudson Valley, has jump-started the process by blending its newly made whiskey with (purchased) older bourbon and letting them mingle in the barrel. What comes out has the floral notes of a young whiskey tempered by the nuttiness of an older one. The [5] Balcones True Blue 100 ($57) corn whiskey (made in Waco, Texas, from 100 percent Hopi blue corn), solves the problem by making something so different that it evades comparison with what you know. On the nose, it recalls now Scotch, now rhum agricole from Martinique. Sip it, which is no hardship, and it recalls café mocha as much as it does bourbon whiskey. It’s young and eccentric at the same time, and it’s found its own path to deliciousness. And that, after all, is the point. ≥
OLD-FASHIONED KENTUCKY WHISKEY TODDY The best thing you can do with really good old bourbon is put it in a glass and drink it. This might be the next best. At least it lets the whiskey have its say, almost without interruption. After all, the prime rule of mixology is, or should be, “First of all, do no harm.” In an old-fashioned glass, muddle a sugar cube with 1/2 ounce of water. Add a good-sized slug of bourbon—two or three ounces—and three or four ice cubes. Stir pen-sively, and then grate a little nutmeg on top. Do not otherwise garnish. —D. W.
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P R O U D S U P P O RT E R O F
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COOKING SCHOOL MONTH
Jan Feb Mar Apr May Jun Jul Aug Sep Oct Nov Dec HOW TO
MAKE A PAN SAUCE
F O R A N Y M E AT
[1] Cut shallots or onions into thin slices or small dice. Add to the hot pan after removing meat. They will release moisture, loosening flavorful bits of meat (“fond”) from the pan. This is the first deglaze. A pat of butter helps, too—the milk solids will caramelize and attach themselves to the fond.
THE ART OF STIRRING UP A SAUCE IN A PAN THAT’S STILL HOT
As told to Francine Maroukian
aking a sauce in the pan you just used to cook whatever the sauce will cover—in
this case, a beautiful steak—is all about perception. It looks (and tastes) like it takes more time and training than it actually does. That’s because the ingredients do a lot of the work for you—the meat, in a way, becomes part of the sauce. The fundamental technique here is called deglazing, and it’s one of those essential principles of cooking that chefs hesitate to give away because it’s so easy. Truth is it’s simple to master, and it will catapult your confidence as a cook in just a few minutes. The first thing to understand is that it’s a blessing to have little bits of meat stick to the pan when you’re cooking proteins like beef, pork, or chicken because those bits become the foundation of the sauce. The technical term for these little caramelized jewels is “fond,” and their flavor is everything here. Be careful not to burn them when you incorporate them into your sauce, because then the final product will taste . . . burned. So keep your heat moderate. Beyond that, it’s hard to mess this up. And the real beauty of deglazing lies in its speedy efficiency. By the time your steak has rested after cooking, everything’s — CHEF ADAM SOBEL ready to eat. RECIPE: Mushroom pan sauce for steak CHEF: Adam Sobel RESTAURANT: Bourbon Steak, Washington, D. C. SERVES : One
> First, cook a steak in a heavy-bottomed pan (preferably cast iron) on the stove.* Remove the meat and place the
still-hot pan over moderate heat. Add a medium-sized sliced shallot along with a small spoon of butter, approximately 1 tablespoon. When the butter melts, add about a half cup of sliced mushrooms—you can use button, shiitake, crimini, oyster, or pretty much whatever looks
good at the supermarket. Sauté the mushrooms for a few minutes, then deglaze the pan with a healthy splash of cabernet sauvignon— about 3 ounces, or about half a glass of wine—and reduce by half. Then add the same amount of beef or chicken stock and reduce
that by half, too. Add a pinch of salt and some cracked black pepper as well as a handful of chopped herbs—parsley, chives, tarragon, or all three. Finish by swirling in another tablespoon of butter, then spoon the sauce over your sliced steak and eat immediately.
[2] Add some cut-up vegetables, but nothing that takes long to cook or the sauce will evaporate and your protein will get cold. Try mushrooms, jarred artichoke hearts, or olives.
[3] The second deglaze is with liquid: first some wine, then some stock (or even water). This time, scrape the pan with a wooden spoon to get all the tasty bits incorporated into the sauce.
[4] Swirl in some butter, maybe a tablespoon. Use a spoon or pick up the pan and move it in quick circles over the burner. Done.
*For a foolproof seared steak, go to esquire.com/sear-a-steak.
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Deglazing: Use Netpage to watch and learn.
I L LU ST R AT I O N S BY J O E M CK E N D R Y
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