The role of a defense attorney is not to believe in the innocence nor guilt of his client, nor to be made privy to more evidence than is necessary to defend the accused. How unfortunate, then, for Mr. Joyce of Messrs. Ripley, Joyce and Naylor of Singapore, that his client, Mrs. Leslie Crosbie, facing trial for a murder she committed in British Malaya, should open a complex abyss that sinks him into a perilous dereliction of legal ethics.
It is the 1920s, in a region of the world best known at the time for British imperialism, rigid racism and plantation commerce, that W. Somerset Maugham examines such an abyss in his compact and corrosive story, The Letter, one of six tales written under the umbrella of The Casuarina Tree. Maugham's Leslie Crosbie is as composed, dignified and well-bred a woman as she is a creature given to wild fits of rage, loathing and self pity. Joyce is as fascinated by her abrupt mood swings and the startling, pre-trial complications, as he is compassionate toward her husband, Robert, a hard-working and kind plantation manager. Were it not for the savage emotional toll that Leslie's arrest has exacted on Robert, and the growing possibility that she will, indeed, be executed for her crime, Joyce would never have bent his principles to procure a critical piece of damning evidence, the letter of the title.
For Joyce, there is little comfort in the outcome of the trial, save the knowledge that his own wife is in every way exactly what Leslie Crosbie is not, a loyal, supportive, and sparkling woman of impeccable standards, and a gifted hostess whose "...million-dollar cocktail was celebrated through all the Malay States..."
Except for a passing reference to whiskey and soda, and a gin pahit, no other liquor is directly identified in the story, not even, surprisingly, Mrs. Joyce's renowned cocktail. Had the Raffles Hotel, the Singapore institution where W. Somerset Maugham was a frequent visitor, not already invented the feminine and stylish Singapore Sling, I could easily ascribe that libation to Mrs. Joyce as her very own mysterious concoction.
As is typical with classic recipes, the Singapore Sling has sprung all sorts of variations on its theme of pink gin. The one I'm serving here is my own riff, generally unaltered but for a quick whir in the blender to produce an icy froth that glitters in the sunlight as well as the brain. Cocktail geeks and other purists would likely disjoint their noses, but I trust that you will forgive my crime. After all, it's not exactly like I'm getting away with murder.
Singapore Sling Slush - Based on the Drink Boy recipe
Ingredients (per cocktail)
2 ounces gin
1 1/2 ounces Kirschwasser (a clear German cherry brandy)
1 1/2 ounces pineapple juice
1 ounce Bénédictine (a French herbal liqueur)
2 teaspoons grenadine syrup
Juice of 1/2 lime
Juice of 1/2 orange
4-5 large ice cubes
Maraschino cherry to garnish
Stirrer/sipping straw (optional)
Select a large highball or other oversized glass. Fill the glass with ice cubes, then add all ingredients except club soda and cherry garnish. Top with club soda to fill. Transfer contents to blender container. Blend in a few short bursts, using the ice crusher button if your appliance has one, until the ice is pulverized and foamy. Pour into glass and stir once to distribute ice. Garnish with cherry and serve immediately.
This post is for Simona of Briciole and Lisa of Champaign Taste, co-hosting their quarterly Novel Food event, which features recipes derived from or inspired by the food and drink we love to read about in our favorite literature.