The Lost Wine Cellars of Shanghai

“What happened to the wine cellars of Shanghai?”– perhaps a question you never thought to ask yourself, but having thought on the subject for a few moments you may well want to know the answer…

The Shanghai of the 1920’s and 1930’s, then the world’s fifth-largest city,  was one of the world’s most prosperous and bustling commercial entrepots – it was observed in 1935 Fortune magazine,

“If, at any time during the Coolidge prosperity, you had taken your money out of American stocks and transferred it to Shanghai in the form of real estate investments, you would have trebled it in seven years.”

It is well to remember that not long before the Great Depression was playing itself out across a large part of the world. Shanghai seemed impervious… 

Simply put Shanghai in its first ‘Golden Age’ was more or less awash with disposable incomes and there quickly developed multiple avenues for disposing of said income. Dancing at private clubs, gambling at the races, lavish dinners, night time entertainments of all descriptions (from magic acts and performing animals at the Great World Entertainment Centre, to prostitution and opium dens… and beyond) were all available, day and night to the private individual. But what of the disposable income of larger bodies? Private clubs, hotels, restaurants, banks, insurance firms, import-export groups? It should surprise no one that the large edifices of stone and marble that were built on the Bund as temples to capital were mostly built during this period (the 1920’s and 1930s). 

Sassoon House under construction

In many ways the Shanghai of the collective imagination is a symbol and exemplar of conspicuous consumption and it is fair to suppose that a fair amount of this consumption took the form of alcohol. So while a large part of the world was sunk in a depression of both finance and spirits, Shanghai partied on. 

And when America tried the ‘noble experiment’ of Prohibition, Shanghai barely paused – if anything it probably took advantage of a surplus of liquor intended for the American market and bought up big at discount prices – like it’s sister ports of Hong Kong and Singapore, Shanghai’s status as a ‘freeport’ meant that large quantities of goods and materials passed through daily – it’s docks never silent, and it’s warehouses (or ‘go-downs’ in the local parlance) always bustling. Much of Shanghai’s character of free-living and decadence is the result of these twin forces – excess wealth in a time of Depression and global belt-tightening, and a glut of cheap alcohol intended for the American market.

Alcohol was available everywhere, and of all varieties (Shanghai often promoted its own myth that anything could be sourced and delivered for the right price) – in All About Shanghai: A Standard Guidebook (1934-35) it is noted,

 “Good food can be found everywhere, at any hour; good liquor is the pride and boast of the first class resorts – at the others stick to bottled beer, and open the bottles yourself.”

 Yes, all types of alcohol were available, even bad beer… some things never change.

27 The Bund - former Hdqtrs of Jardine, Matheson & Co.

For the finer quality end of the market you could apply to large import-export companies like Jardine, Matheson & Co. – their headquarters at 27 The Bund was backed by a warehouse that extended the depth of a city block. Here, along with quantities of silks, tea, Tung oil, frozen eggs, and machinery, they also dealt in wine and whisky. Or you could apply to smaller independent wine merchants such as H. L. Menken, a Jewish trader who moved from St. Petersburg in 1933 to a small premise in the French Concession where he both lived and traded.

[Interestingly the former white stone building at 27 The Bund has been remade into House of Roosevelt, containing a private club, offices, bedrooms, restaurants and what is said to be the largest wine cellar in Shanghai – meanwhile the home of H.L. Menken is now a beauty parlour, spa, and chocolate shop with the former brick-lined wine cellar being used as a reception space.]

From all of this we can conclude that within Shanghai’s more lavish spaces could be found well-stocked wine cellars. In private clubs, restaurants, bars, hotels, wine merchants, and in the homes of private individuals would be bottles of fine wine, slumbering in the dark.

I can perhaps almost sense your interest building at this juncture as I ask again: "where are these bottles now?"

The answer to that is mostly based on supposition, inference and a measure of imaginative deduction.

One key factor to remember is the unsettled times in which Shanghai existed and thrived. After the uncertainties felt by the foreign interests during the Boxer Uprising at the beginning of the 20^th Century – certain concessions had been won from the Imperial Court of China, literally. With new treaties guaranteeing the future of the Foreign Concessions along the coast of China, Shanghai grew rapidly, confident in its destiny. By the inter-war period this confidence had become shaky.

As civil war moved back and forth across China, washing up at the outskirts of Shanghai on a number of occasions, the foreign powers began to increase their military strength in the city – a sign of their nervousness. After the Japanese attack on parts of the city in 1932, damaging many factories in the Chinese sectors of the city and with bombs landing on the Bund itself, many foreign businesses closed up shop and left. Others stayed on, putting their faith in the warships floating on the river and the increasing size of the city’s garrisons (as well as a certain belief in their own entitlement and sense of destiny common at a time when The British Empire seemed set to endure forever, and American financial and military might knew few reverses).

Damaged shops, Nanjing Road, Battle of Shanghai, 1932

Those businesses that stayed on through the troubled years that were to follow also put their faith in certain practical measures, taking security into their own hands – windows and entrances were sand-bagged against bullets or shrapnel, and going about well-armed (either obviously or secretly) became the norm. Entrances to many venues (banks, private clubs, financial institutions, hotels) now came with a well-built doorman as standard - not of course to defend against the aggressions of nation-states, but as a deterrent to the criminal gangs that had begun to proliferate – most notably the Green Gang which had direct links to the Chinese Nationalists now fighting a brutal civil war by fits and starts in the interior of China.

Sixth floor windows sand-bagged for staff protection at the North China Daily News

Balanced against those people and businesses leaving the unsettled city was the arrival of a group who would have felt more at ease with the new business conditions. These were people impelled to leave America by the enactment of Prohibition and the wholesale closing of liquor-related premises – liquor traders, bartenders, entertainers… a Chicago bartender used to working in a bar protected by peep-holes, steel doors, and emergency escape routes would have been well-prepared for his new job in Shanghai where at least the city law enforcement weren’t the ones pursuing you.

These bar-professionals were well-versed in how to protect one’s own life, the venue in which they worked and the merchandise they carried.

As an example one can recount the 21 Club in New York which still exists to this day:

The concealed entrance to the cellar of the 21 Club, New York

In 1932, during Prohibition, the club was raided by the ten federal agents on the search for a store of liquor – after fruitless searching including tapping walls for hidden niches the authorities were forced to admit defeat and left. What they didn’t find was over 2,000 cases of wine hidden in the basement. This secret cache was concealed behind several smoked hams that hung from the basement ceiling and a shelved wall filled with canned goods.  This backed onto a false wall of 2.5 tonnes of cement and metal that could be made to revolve by inserting an 18” metal skewer into a crack in the cement, thereby releasing the catch. One can still visit this secret cellar today.

Another example of this method of business insurance comes from Paris, which experienced its own ‘unsettled times’ in the first half of the 20^th Century. The famous George V restaurant had constructed a secret cellar some 14 metres below the level of the street in which to keep its choicest vintages safe from the depredations and vicissitudes of history. This foresight protected the bottles from confiscation by the forces of the Occupation throughout the course of the Second World War. Other restaurants in Paris did similar things (most famously the Tour d’Argent), part of a series of concealments detailed in the book Wine & War: The Battle for France’s Greatest Treasure, by Don & Petie Kladstrup.

From examples such as these we can deduce that secret cellars were a common device used during turbulent times such as war. So what of Shanghai’s secret cellars? Did they exist? Do they still exist? 

It is quite probable that much personal property and business assets were concealed in this fashion prior to and during the occupation of Shanghai by the Japanese. Following the end of the war in 1945 a number of Shanghailanders returned to the city in the hope of picking up where they had been forced to leave off – the firm of Jardine, Matheson & Co., for instance, whom we mentioned earlier. 

This hoped return to 'business as usual' proved to be short-lived. Once the Communist authorities of China realised that this outpost of Capitalism was not going to wither as anticipated they required all foreign businesses to cease trading and sell off all assets before vacating the city (a task that took large firms like Jardine-Matheson almost four years). The decade after 1949 was a long, slow withdrawal of foreign businesses, giving ample time to remove any assets that had survived the preceding decades of conflict – this would have probably included any ‘assets’ concealed behind false walls… 

But what of those caches owned by businesses and people who did not return? Those who died in Japanese internment camps or elsewhere during the period? Did the secreted liquor remain undisturbed in its sleep? Are those secret rooms still there?

Consider the following: as Shanghai enters a second age of dramatic growth and financial prosperity, many of the buildings that remain from the Foreign Concessions are gaining a new lease of life. Renovation, restoration and retro-fitting are the current fashions – and as this work progresses it is being discovered that many architectural and decorative features of these once grand temples to capital have survived the intervening decades – including the wholesale destruction of the Cultural Revolution. 

Features like wood-panelling, gold-leaf, mosaics, tracery, frescoes have been discovered more or less unscathed, hidden behind plywood and cheap paint – often concealed by the former employees of these institutions before their handing over to the people of China during that long, slow withdrawal of foreign businesses after the war - [a fine example of this architectural archaeology is the interior features of the Cathay hotel, now the Peace Hotel. In the lobby a false ceiling was removed to reveal a breathtaking 15 metre atrium with a copper and yellow-tinted-glass skylight.]

Early restoration work at the Peace Hotel, Shanghai

The restored atrium

Perhaps, somewhere, in a 1920’s building, soon to be renovated, will be discovered a false wall that will lead to a cellar in which will be found the concealed wine stock of some long gone wine merchant or hotel owner… perhaps.

Chinese Gordon and the Ever Victorious Cocktail

Charles Gordon dressed as a tidu or Chinese Commander

Charles Gordon (also known as General Gordon, Gordon Pasha and Gordon of Khartoum) is/was a fine example of the loyal British subject on active service in far-off Cathay bringing light to the darkness....
... to the Chinese he was more simply a ' yi ' or 'Barbarian'.


Gordon's presence at the destruction of the Summer Palace in 1860 (as a 27-year old Royal Engineer captain) would seem to suggest the Chinese interpretation to be the more accurate. The burning of the Emperor's residence took three days and was in retaliation for the abduction and torture of a foreign legation sent to Peking.

A map of the Summer Palace. CLICK ON THE IMAGE TO VIEW IN DETAIL.

However, this would be to ignore his later achievements at the head of a mostly Chinese army which, in collaboration with the Chinese Imperial forces, fought some of the final and decisive battles that ended the Taiping Rebellion.

The Taiping Rebellion was a widespread civil war in Southern China from 1850 to 1864, led by heterodox Christian convert Hong Xiuquan, who, having claimed to have received visions, maintained that he was the younger brother of Jesus Christ against the ruling Manchu-led Qing Dynasty.
It is estimated About 20-30 million people died, mainly civilians, and largely through plague.  The scope of this conflict makes it the largest civil war of the 19th Century, including the American Civil War with which it was contemporaneous - whether it is outstripped by the Napoleonic wars 9in terms of troops actively engaged) is, however, debatable, but it is certainly one of the worst conflicts of the period.

Territory controlled by the Taiping Rebels by 1854.

The Ever Victorious Army and Chinese Gordon had a walk-on part in these events, and largely as a defender of Shanghai. Throughout its four-year existence the Ever Victorious Army was mainly to operate within a thirty mile radius of Shanghai. 
 
 This new force, organised by its commander Frederick Townsend Ward, originally comprised about 200 mostly European mercenaries, enlisted in the Shanghai area from sailors, deserters and adventurers in 1860. Ward's initial plan was to defend Shanghai by using his irregular mercenary force to attack nearby Taiping held areas stipulating that for every city captured he was to receive seventy-five thousand dollars in gold, that his men were to have the first day’s looting, and that each place taken should immediately be garrisoned by imperial troops, leaving his own force free for further operations. Later this force became a mixed militia of Chinese troops with European officers under the name 'Foreign Rifles' (a common colonial era name for irregular forces). This initial muster played an important role in the Battle of Shanghai (June 1860-September 1862) when the city and surrounds were taken and retaken by forces of either the Taiping Rebels or by Imperial troops. By May 1862 the Chinese troop component of the army was increased to 3,000 , all equipped with Western firearms and equipment by the British authorities in Shanghai.

Uniforms of the Ever Victorious Army

 The sobriquet of 'The Ever Victorious Army' was officially bestowed in March 1862 by the Qing Imperial court no less. It was the first Chinese army which was trained in European techniques, tactics, and strategy. As such, it became a model for later Chinese armies. 
Gordon added to its successes when he assumed command in 1863.

The Taiping Rebellion, which had been on-going in the regions around and to the south of Shanghai since 1850, combined with the Second Opium War (1856-1860) saw the Qing Emperor under considerable pressure from many sides. By agreeing to sign the Treaty of Tien-tsin in 1860, ending the war with the French and British, the Emperor was in a better position to fight the southern rebels. However there was a price, what became known as The Unequal Treaties allowed the foreign possessions along the coasts of China to expand - and chief of these was Shanghai. The city began from this point to expand into the metropolis that would become the legend we see in the 20th Century. This growth was built to a large degree on capital realised from the now legal sale of opium.

But there is another side to the story - it is in some circles suggested that the Taiping Rebellion was allowed to run so long by the Imperial Court in the hope that the rebels would push the foreigners out of the coastal concessions, including Shanghai, with little or no risk to the Imperial Court. Such a scheme could, it is suggested, be laid at the feet of the formidable Empress Dowager Cixi who was the power behind the throne for much of the period, and more so when she manuevered herself into de facto power after the death of the Emperor in 1861.

Empress Dowager as photographed at the rebuilt Summer Palace after its destruction in 1860.

This double game became impossible when the on-again/off-again Second Opium War added to the pressures on the Court and which ended with the siege of Beijing/Peking and the forced signing of the Treaty of Tien-tsin. Making the best of a bad deal the Imperial Court set about crushing the rebellion with European assistance and weaponry, of which General Gordon and the Ever Victorious Army are a fine example.


So the 'barbarian' Gordon is reformed - not least because a condition of the new treaty was the prohibition of the use of the character "夷" (yí), meaning "barbarian" in official documents.
He is forgiven for attending the wonton destruction of the Summer Palace because of his successes leading the Ever Victorious Army in it's general defense of Shanghai from the Taiping Rebels - for which he was even commended by the "power behind the curtain" Empress Dowager (via puppet Emperor Tongzhi) who was glad of European assistance and weapons in suppressing the rebellion - but the price for China was the expansion of the curse of Opium and further loss of sovereignty in the Concession ports, with Shanghai being the ultimate winner in the 'interesting times' of the period.

To honour this fine example of British Imperial manhood and the victories of his army 

Jamie Lawton of Ancestral Bar & Restaurant has crafted the following drink... 

...and may the sun never set on the Empire
 

The Ever Victorious Cocktail

45ml The Botanist Gin

15ml Smoked pear & pepper syrup

15ml Dry French vermouth

20ml Orange juice

3 dashes Bittermen's Hopped Grapefruit Bitters

garnish: grapefruit zest

method: shake with great, but short-lived determination then fine-strain into a chilled martini glass - 

Express the oils of your grapefruit zest across the drink then drop the zest into the glass.

The Shanghai Gin Cocktail

Somewhere in the depths of San Francisco, at a bar and Vietnamese restaurant called The Slanted Door an un-named bartender found an old bar book... and perhaps a hint of Shanghai in the 1930s...

The Slanted Door, Vietnamese Restaurant
(image credit Taylor Davidson)

Apparently the book did not amount to much, but within its pages was the seed of a truly great drink: The Shanghai Gin Cocktail.

Shanghai Gin Cocktail
(image credit T. Marshall Fawley III)

The seed was a recipe for a drink called simply The Shanghai Gin Fizz.
The bartender tried it, found it indifferent but with some merit so decided to re-invent it - minus the fizz of soda water. From this arose the Shanghai Gin cocktail which has been a slow underground hit since (at least with those frequenting The Slanted Door...)

We think it should be known further afield so here is the recipe (which has more than a passing resemblance to that other 1920's stand by of classic cocktails, The Last Word)...

The Shanghai Gin Cocktail:

1/4 No.3 Gin

1/4 Yellow Chartreuse

1/4 Benedictine

1/4 lemon juice

Combine in a classic three-piece shaker with cube ice and give it what for. 

Strain into a pre-chilled martini glass and then sup.

I recommend giving this drink a whirl as a pre-dinner aperitif next time you drop into Ancestral Bar & Restaurant on Courtenay Place - ask for the No.3 Gin as the grapefruit note really sets this drink off.

however....

Ancestral Bar (& Restaurant) cannot leave well enough alone, but must make the drink in its own image.
The Shanghai Gin Cocktail as promulgated by the Slanted Door may well do service in San Francisco,
but the Wellington scene demands something altogether more serious, more dry, and perhaps more unequivocal...

After much late night tinkering, twisting, and supping
(all in the line of duty:... 'tis a far, far nobler thing I do...')
an Ancestral Original was created:

The Shanghaied Gin Cocktail:

40ml Genever Gin
10ml Yellow Chartreuse
10ml Benedictine
juice of 1/4 of a medium lemon
3-4 dashes of absinthe

Shake briefly but with alacrity in a two-piece or Boston shaker. 
Double-strain into a chilled martini glass and garnish with a twist of lemon peel,
(the oils having been expressed above the glass).


This is a drink with a stiff upper lip, maybe even a hint of 'spy' what with its James Bond's Vesper method and finished appearance.

The Shanghai Cocktail - A Chinese Puzzle

The Shanghai Cocktail - so good they named a city after it? Perhaps not, but it is certainly more than a forgotten classic cocktail: it is yet another window on to the Shanghai of the early 20th Century.

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    We start our journey back into that other time and place with the earliest recorded recipe for this drink, which is found in The Savoy Cocktail Book by Harry Craddock.

First published in 1930 this founding work of an earlier cocktail golden age gives us a starting date for delving into the background of the Shanghai cocktail.

    We pack our one suitcase (so as to travel light), and book the next steam-packet passage to the mystic Orient in order to engage in our search - the search for the inventor of the Shanghai cocktail.

    All we have as a clue is our starting date: 1930 - the inventor must have been in Shanghai before this point. - let's say a couple of years before that point even. This gives the drink time to become well-known enough to cross the Atlantic and be published in a book in London.
    This is, of course, supposition, but supposition and circumstantial evidence based on what we know of the era and place is all we have. Perhaps we are even reading too much into that slender evidence as it is.
Perhaps the drink was never even invented in Shanghai - perhaps it is the Shanghai cocktail in name only, maybe Harry Craddock cobbled it together himself...perhaps...
     These are not unreasonable suggestions... yet they don't ring true.
To proudly name a drink after one of the largest and most dramatic cities of its time suggests that either the drink was invented there or that the quintesential essence of the place and its people has been distilled into the drink in some way. The fact that there is nothing particularly 'Oriental' about the drink save its name would suggest the former over the latter.
While we wait for our ocean-liner to reach Shanghai so our investigation can begin in earnest we have time to examine the drink as described in the Savoy Cocktail Book.

Shanghai Cocktail

2 dashes grenadine

3/8 lemon juice

1/8 anisette

1/2 Jamaica Rum

shake well and strain into a cocktail glass

No clues there to the author one would think... save that the heavy use of Jamaica rum would suggest an English connection - Jamaica being, at that time, a part of the British Empire and the chief supplier to the English both at home and abroad of cheap rum... maybe. We scribble 'English' with a question mark in our notes.
    The other ingredient of interest is the 'anisette'.

Anisette is a French liqueur traditionally made with anise and coriander seeds - other spices may also be used such as cinnamon, vanilla, mace, clove, fennel or dill. It is similar to, but distinct from, pastis which is made from star anise - there is also a difference in strength with anisette hovering around the 20% alc./vol. mark while pastis is usually  pegged at 40% alc./vol..
    Though both anisette and pastis are based on long-standing traditional recipes of herbal infusion they only began to be mass-produced and promoted after a ban was imposed on the production of absinthe across most of Europe in 1915. Which is not to say that absinthe was unavailable, the Savoy Cocktail book makes frequent use of it suggesting a cellar stocked from before the ban.
Incidentally, this eliminates the idea that Harry Craddock had adapted the recipe to fit available products - absinthe, pastis, and anisette are all mentioned by name in the book. Also, the proportions only make sense if the anise-flavoured component is of the sweeter and less alcoholic variety - that much Pastis or absinthe in a drink would over-power any other flavour, while the quantity of lemon juice would make the drink too sour.
Now we have a lower bracket for our dates - The Shanghai cocktail, as it exists in the Savoy, most probably was invented sometime between 1915 and 1928 in a place where Jamaican rum was readily available.
As our ship steams up the Hoang-pu river that leads to the heart of the metropolis we now feel a little more confident of finding our quarry amongst the throngs in the streets.

Now begins an expedition of the mind into the mists of time. A modicum of 'suspension of disbelief' is required, but I hope you will join me in this visit to the Shanghai of the 1920s...

A scale model of the buildings along the Bund of the 1930s (not in their correct positions)

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I descend the gangway to the wharf of this "Paradise of Adventurers" on a humid day in the 1920s (or thereabouts). I notice a number of American accents - not unusual in itself for such a cosmopolitan city, save that a particular group has formed on the dock front and snatches of conversation about barwork can be heard, where to find it and how much it pays. These are bartenders from across the United States who have become unemployed after the enactment of the Volstead Act and the beginning of Prohibition in the January of 1920.
    These highly trained and experienced bartenders have been forced to disperse across the globe in search of work - many have come to Shanghai, others have wound up in Europe - such as Harry Craddock at the Savoy in London and Frank Meier at the Ritz in Paris (both of whom knew each other through having both worked at the Hoffman House Hotel in New York).
    Is there a link here to the person we seek? Is our mystery drinksmith an American bartender? It seems more than reasonable.
    The newly arrived bartenders are moving off in a group now, pushing past the street urchins that continually chant, "No mama, no papa, no whiskey soda", one hand raised supplicatory style. Picking up my one suitcase I undo my collar in the heat and set out to follow them - this is probably our best lead, and literally 'fresh off the boat'.
    I pass along the broad avenue called the Bund that runs beside the river. Across the road, with its rickshaws, trams and frequent automobiles, can be seen the various head-offices of Western businesses (Hongs in the local vernacular) that are based in the East. The river itself is crammed with craft small and large - junks, fishing boats, small skiffs passing between anchored ships and the shore, barges, and a fair number of naval vessels flying colours from across the globe.

IJN Izumo on the Huangpo River, Shanghai

    Our group of American bartenders is crossing the first all steel bridge in China - the 'camelback truss' style Garden Bridge (Waibaidu) across Suzhou Creek, a smaller river which feeds into the larger river to our right. They're heading to the American Consulate to register, get their bearings and perhaps get some advice.
I cross the bridge as well.

The Garden Bridge at the junction of the Huang-po and Suzhou Creek

This bridge, which still exists today, will be the scene of machine gun battles during the Battle of Shanghai in 1937, but at this stage (the imagined early to mid 1920s) things are calm. A group of Marines from the Fourth Corps lounge against the rails watching the small boats in the Creek, a Russian prostitute solicites their attention but is ignored ("walking the Garden Bridge" is the lowest stage in the courtesan trade). A Sikh policeman directs traffic.
    I cross over into the northern section of the International Settlement and head for the American consulate. When I catch up our group of bartenders is beginning to break up - some are heading for the American YMCA back across the bridge, others are comparing a list of 'approved barbers' against a map, others are hovering in the cool shadow of the interior before venturing back out into the heat.

    I approach the information desk but draw only a blank look regarding the Shanghai cocktail - instead I'm directed to a newsstand by the entrance where one can get information regarding the night-life of Shanghai. I pick up a guide to the city and a map, and after some thought ask the way to the Astor House Hotel. The newsvendor gives me a speculative look then indicates across the road and along. The four stories of the Hotel can be clearly seen. As I cross the road, dodging a tram, I see a couple of our American bartenders heading in the same direction.

The Astor House Hotel, established in 1846 and the first Western hotel in China. It was the first building in China with electric lights and the first to receive mains water supply to each room. The first motion pictures in Shanghai were shown here (both silent and 'talkie'), and the first telephone call in Shanghai was received here also. A land mark in many ways this grand hotel occupies an entire city block and was an inevitable destination for every western visitor to the Shanghai of the 1920s. I consult my 1920 guide book: "Astor House Hotel: 250 rooms all with attached baths, the most commodious ballroom in Shanghai, renowned for its lobby, special dinner-parties, and balls. Banquets a special feature, and a French chef employed. Up-to-date hairdressing salon and beauty parlour. Strictly under foreign supervision."

     When we first visit the building it is still trading on a grand refurbishment just over a decade before (completed in 1911). A major feature of the reconstruction was the creation of the Peacock Hall - the ballroom referred to above.

    I enter the heart of the Astor House Hotel, it's 'ornate but old-fashioned' lobby. Considered by many the hub of social activity in 1920s Shanghai it is a sprawling space broken into several areas with abundant heavy, mahogany chairs set around low coffee tables. There is a steady hum of conversation and the occasional furtive glance over a shoulder at other tables. It has an atmosphere that lead one commentator to describe it as, "that amusing whispering gallery of Shanghai".
    A circle of aristocratic Russians looks out at the Russian Consulate (where the Romanov eagle has been replaced by the hammer and sickle of the workers' party). A Japanese gent in a morning suit with a briefcase on his knees is a gentle presence in the midst of their heated debate - 'how to align the displaced White Russians with other powers in a bid to overthrow the revolutionary government of the fledgling Soviet Union?' Perhaps Britain can be convinced to try again? Even after that pathetic fiasco at Archangel, perhaps in co-ordination with the Empire of Japan, attacking from the East....?
     A man waves a Chinese imitation of a Mauser C96 machine pistol around in one corner of the lobby while on the table are spread the schematics for a US made light machine gun (soon to be adopted by Hitler's Sturmabteilung or 'Brown Shirts'). An arms deal is in progress - a result of China signing the International Arms Embargo Agreement of 1919 and the ambiguous status of the International Settlement. The staff of the hotel keep a wary eye on the gun waver but otherwise carry on nonplussed.
    I feel a hand on my sleeve and looking over see that it belongs to our old friend Charles H. Baker Jr. In one hand he holds a tall glass of cocktail, while the other arm is entwined with that of a fetching American woman. This is just what we need - a bit of local knowledge...

Charles H. Baker Jr. (left) with E. Hemingway

"Local?! Dear boy! I've been in transit for weeks now - missed the boat, literally, several times over. I blame these." he declares, holding up his glass - which reminds him to take a sip. "Astor House Special." he looks distantly out the front door and says, half to himself, "God knows where my luggage is now. Hong Kong, I think." A ship's siren wail from the direction of the river mournfully punctuates this reflection.
    Baker Jr. snaps back to the present company. "So you've come from the outside world. How goes Chicago? Capone still riding rough-shod?" Mr Baker's companion rolls her eyes and pulls a cigarette case out of her purse. Tapping a new cigarette on it's cover she sashays away abruptly, heals clicking on the marble floor, leaving only a whiff of Mitsouko perfume. She is heading towards the stairs and the women's sitting room above. Somewhere a band begins to play a tune from the new style known as Jass or Jazz.
     Baker Jr. winks.
    "Only mentioned Capone as a gentle provocation to Madame. She's from Chicago - guess she likes the more endangering climates of the world, which is probably why she's in Shanghai. I may ask her to marry me - probably be rejected, but there you go.These are interesting times, my boy. Was just up on the gallery of the restaurant watching them go by. Come join me, and ask one of the 'boys' for a drink on my account - the stockmarket has been kind. They make damn fine drinks here - have done ever since that old prison bird Ludlow, back in 1903."
   I am agreeable so we head for the stairs - as we make our way to the restaurant that runs along the front of the building we discuss the quest for the inventor of the Shanghai cocktail. The rattan chairs squeak as we settle in and I order a drink from one of the Chinese staff in a blue jacket over a long white gown .

Astor House Hotel, Dining Saloon

The Astor Hotel Special

1 1/2 ounces cognac

1 tsp maraschino liqueur 

2 tsp egg white

3/4 ounce absinthe 

1/2 tsp lemon juice 

club soda 

Dry shake all ingredients save club soda. 

Add ice and shake hard. Strain into a large wine goblet and add soda. 

Baker Jr. looks reflectively towards the glittering river out the window, partially obscured by the white bulk of the Russian consulate opposite.
    "Of course there is another clue. The name might refer to something else.
     Maybe it is a reference to the Shanghai Club which has re-opened only fairly recently and is the most exclusive in town. If you want to stake your claim to anything in this town you'll need membership of that place. It's where all the English meet, from the Taipans to the Griffins. Oh sure, it doesn't have a long tradition of cocktail service like this place - but it does have the most impressive bar in town - the Long Bar. It's also closer to the French concession shops that sell not only Madame's fancy perfumes but also the anisette that features in your cocktail."
    Baker's mind, ever agile and hummingbird-like moves on suddenly after this moment of great insight. He suggests ordering some opium on room service or even (as his female companion climbs the steps towards us) a boy or girl companion, raising his voice so she can hear.
She doesn't respond to his baiting, merely seats herself and lights another cigarette before looking out at the view. As the silence begins to stretch I excuse myself saying that my quest obliges me to visit the Shanghai Club, and I take my leave.

The Bund, Shanghai

Rejoining the throngs out along the road leading to the Garden Bridge and the Bund I decide to catch a tram - there's no room to sit inside so I stand on the running board, one hand holding on, the other gripping my suitcase while I keep a wary eye out for hat thieves - a not uncommon happenstance. After a short ride I drop off the tram at a jog outside the imposing five-storey facade of the Shanghai Club, next door to the Asiatic Petroleum company, and also, beginning with the next block, the French Concession - just as Baker Jr. said.

Shanghai Club, now the Waldorf-Astoria

     A Union Jack hangs limply from the roof line. Beneath a glass canopy stretching out from the entrance and across the pavement stands a uniformed Sikh doorman. I raise my hat and push through into the interior. The doorman watches me with detached suspicion. Inside a man in a rather out-dated formal suit rises from behind a desk to greet me. The black and white Sicilian marble interior recedes into a grotto-like obscuirty of Ionic columns and potted plants.

    Am I a member? No. A friend of a member? No. A Britisher? No again. Then they are sorry but they cannot allow me to enter the Club.
    The Sikh doorman has now followed me inside and stands at the ready to eject me if necessary.
    I am reminded of the time, still a little ways into the future, in 1941, when a passing Englishman sought shelter inside the entrance during a bombardment of the Bund. As the explosions resounded he was told that as he was not a member he would have to go back outside. That is until a quick conference of the club members present voted him to be a temporary member until after the bombardment.

    A man crossing the foyer with the help of two walking sticks, perhaps sensing a moment's diversion of sorts, altered his course towards us.
   "Good Afternoon, is there some sort of bone of contention that is being chewed upon here? May I be of assistance?"
"Ah, Sir Sassoon - I was just explaining to this gentleman our members only policy..."

    Ultimately I outline the quest in broad strokes and Mr. Sassoon's interest is piqued.
   "I'll vouchsafe him a visit to the Long Bar, Berty." Berty looks like he might protest then finally nods and takes my hat and case.
    We cross the ground floor lobby to the elevators, staircases in yet more marble rise on either side.
     "A good incentive for me to join the club was these elevators." Mr. Sassoon remarks as I draw the elevator gates closed.
    "Staircases and walking sticks do not go so well. Do you like horse-racing?" he asks abruptly, changing the subject...

 The Long Bar runs the length of the room in the shape of an 'L' with one end terminating at the windows. It's total length is 110-feet and is a heavy piece of un-varnished mahogany with a black and white granite top, reminiscent of American hotel and saloon bars. At the time of our visit, the mid-1920s it is said to be the longest bar in the world. A forest of ceiling fans spin and whir overhead.

    Early afternoon drinkers are spread around the leather armchairs in front of the bar, or are leaning on the bar itself. Everyone glances up as we enter, assessing us. Various heads nod in greeting, Sassoon waves a walking stick in salute to a man at the far end near the windows and we begin to make our way along the bar.
    As we progress we move along the hierarchy of the bar - from the greenest griffins at one end, yet to make their mark in the world, towards their social superiors, the taipans, at the other end. Sir Victor Sassoon is, of course, one of this later group so we get to position ourselves at the window end.
    A chair is brought up for Sir Victor to sit in, which he does gratefully, hanging his walking sticks on the edge of the bar top. Strangely I also notice a table pointedly turn their backs on our group. The 'Baghdad Jew' Sir Victor pretends not to notice.
    As I consider the view of the river I am struck by the similarity of this bar's arrangement to that of another bar: the Savoy in London. Though the Savoy is not so large a bar the relationship of the bar to a view of another great river, the Thames is the same. Similarly, a seat at the end of the bar that looks towards the river is considered prime real estate.

    As I ponder this similarity Sassoon outlines my quest to the other drinkers gathered at the Long Bar for liquid tiffin and maybe a sandwich from under the dome-covered plates at intervals along the counter.
Bartenders in white jacketed uniforms stand at intervals along the bar or pass between the seated members. A shaker rattles in staccato rhythm. Is one of these bartenders the one we seek? Sassoon asks on our behalf to talk to the head bartender.
An older man comes over and after a brief consultation there is a nod followed by a shrug. The drink is known here, but who invented it they cannot say. The staff change so frequently these days, even the membership changes with increasing rapidity - things are in a state of flux. Even the head bartender has been here only a short while. He offers to make me the cocktail in question. I acquiess. Perhaps new insight or another lead will present itself.
    I watch as the bartender composes the drink. Marie Brizzard annisette and fresh made grenadine syrup, freshly squeezed lemon juice and a healthy measure of the house rum from a bottle marked simply "Finest old Jamaica rum, 70 proof - produce of the British Empire."
    After a brief shake and strain a opaque drink in a shade of pastel pink is revealed in a small cocktail glass. It seems to glow with an internal luminescene as the immiscable oil droplets from the annisette defract the light streaming through the window.  The gentle spiciness of the anise is balanced by the tartness of the lemon juice and the dried fruit character of the rum.

Shanghai Cocktail (different anisette shown)

As I sip speculatively Sassoon outlines to his audience of Shanghai elite his plans to build a grand hotel in the new Art Deco style - the Cathay Hotel, a short distance from the Astor House Hotel. It will be the tallest building in Shanghai built on a mass of Douglas fir piles driven into the mud of the riverside.
    Combined with the opening of the Majestic this will challenge the Astor's claim to be the most luxurious hotel is Shanghai.
    Change is inevitable of course, but in Shanghai it seems to be precipitous. People, buildings, events, the march of history seems to be conducted at a steady run here. Then, in the mid 1920's, as now, in the early 21st Century.
I wish Mr. Sassoon all the best with his ambitious ventures as I take my leave. He offers to walk me out but I decline and he gratefully remains seated, resting his legs shattered in WWI.
    I make my way out of the Long Bar and down to the entrance where Berty presents my hat and small suitcase and thereafter once again find myself on the steps of the entrance. The Sikh doorman looks out at the passing ebb and flow of people, but watches me out of the corner of his eye.

I put on my hat, pull the brim down against the sun and step down to join the gentle melle.

    We have come close, one feels, to locating the elusive cocktail-maker. Perhaps he is even still working in this town - perhaps at one of the many less than salubrious cabarets. Perhaps we will pass him in the street and not even know.
    If we do make his acquaintance we shall have to thank him for the excuse he has provided to tour the town in our quest - experiencing along the way some of the places and people who have since left their mark on this town.

The Candied Apple - a drink from the streets of Shanghai's Old City

Candied 'Apples' on sticks, the streets of Shanghai, food vendors, a South American Gentleman's Companion, a tall drink served in a bar in Courtenay Place... what do they have in common? You'll be glad to know the answer to this question you never knew you wanted to ask.

When one thinks of the street vendors of old Shanghai the flavour of candied apples is not the first that springs to mind. Chinese five spice, stuffed buns and perhaps the odd roasted silkworm would seem more evocative of those time and care worn passages -yet these miniature fruit on a stick are a traditional snack of China.

And now we begin the digression...

Candied fruit on bamboo skewers (usually about 20cm long) are called tanghulu (糖葫蘆). Tanghulu typically have a hardened sugar coating that comes from dipping the skewer in sugar syrup, but versions can also be found with a second chocolate coating, or sesame sprinkles. 

Traditionally, the fruit used has been Chinese hawthorn (山楂 shānzhā), which are miniature bright red fruits freckled with light brown dots that resembled crab-apples. 

The hawthorn fruit is the most common form of candied fruit snack, but in recent times vendors have also used various other fruits, such as cherry tomatoes, mandarins, strawberries, blueberries, pineapples, kiwifruit, bananas or grapes.

These snacks can be found widely along the Beijing snack street Wangfujing and also there are street vendors who travel from place to place selling them 

Many people outside of China may have tried hawthorn fruit without realising it. Haw Flakes (山楂餅) are thin one-inch diameter discs of light burgundy colored dry cakes sold in cylinders with paper or cellophane wrappers. Somewhat chewy and tart they are sold in most Asian supermarkets.

And now back to the bit with the drink...

To evoke this traditional flavour of China the Candied Apple cocktail was created, adapted from a drink noted by the often-deferred-to-but-never-duplicated Charles H. Baker, Jr..  

Starting in the 1930s, Baker authored two inimitable bibles of exotic drinking: The Gentleman’s Companion (1939), and The South American Gentleman’s Companion. 

In his South American Gentleman's Companion (1951) Charles talks of the Ron Habanero Dubonnet Helado cocktail (translated from the Spanish as: "Havana Rum, cold/frozen Dubonnet"). This refresher is composed of: 2 oz. white rum, 1 tsp. lime juice, 1 oz Dubonnet, 1 tsp. grenadine and 2 tsp. maraschino liqueur - served over crushed ice, or even through the agency of a blender. 

Who is this Baker (Jr.) fellow you might ask? (go on, ask, it's the rhetorical question angle).

He is/was a man with his finger on the limpid pulse of the drinking classes and also a prose writer of rare ability.

Calling his writing style florid is a major understatement. You've never read anything quite like it. It’s ridiculously baroque. You could spend a lifetime putting on airs and graces and striking poses and still have a hard time getting out sentences like this one, where Baker describes the female patrons of a restaurant in Montevideo:

"...a demitasse-sized bevy of slick sultry eager and amiable black-haired young ladies…who sit about with—as one friend expressed it—practically plunging waist-lines whose outer Paris-sewn fabric manifestly covers nothing approaching outing-flannel weight beneath; and whose streamlined chassis are patently custom-built, not run off any routine assembly line."

  But enough of that - I digress.

The Candied Apple as served at Ancestral Bar & Restaurant is made thusly:

• 30ml Dubonnet
• 3 lime wedges
• 15ml maraschino liqueur
• dash of grenadine
• apple juice
• garnish: a shake of ground cinnamon and an apple fan

Muddle the lime with the maraschino liqueur, then add the rest save the apple juice and cinnamon. Shake this mixture with cube ice then strain into a tall Collins glass that you have filled with crushed ice. Top with the apple juice and add a fan of apple segments, dusting the top with the cinnamon.

For greater 'pep' and in order to sup more closely with Charles H. Baker, a shot of white rum may be added to the mix.

As a further aside: Dubonnet was first produced in 1846 by Joseph Dubonnet, in response to a competition run by the French authorities to find a way of persuading French Foreign Legionnaires in North Africa to drink quinine as a protection against malaria. The answer, as always, was to mix the bitter ingredient with alcohol. 

The aperitif is based on red wine grapes from Roussillon infused with a surprisingly exotic selection of herbs and spices, including orange rind, cinnamon, green coffee beans and quinine, which is extracted from the bark of the Peruvian cinchona tree.

Reputedly it was a favourite beverage of her late majesty the Queen Mother who liked gin with it: 30% gin, 70% Dubonnet with a slice of lemon under the ice. She once noted before a trip, "...I think that I will take two small bottles of Dubonnet and gin with me this morning, in case it is needed..." 

Better advice for travelers I never heard.