Caesar

We empathize with this hearty Canadian aperitif that's often mistaken for a Bloody Mary in a frosted glass. As far as we're concerned, that's about as rabble-rousing as calling a Canadian an "American." Visually, there's not much of a difference, but when it comes to a matter of taste, there's a world of difference, and we're siding with the Canucks on this one.

Never ones to split hairs or to join in on such debates as the proper use of the term "American," we call it as we see it, and eight times out of ten we'll order a Caesar over a Bloody Mary. Since both drinks are made with vodka, it must be the clam juice that gives the Caesar its zesty bite. The Caesar comprises 1 ounce vodka, 4 ounces tomato-clam juice, and a dash of Worcestershire sauce with several splashes of horseradish. It is a substantial drink that - unlike the Bloody Mary - isn't relegated to late-morning brunches.

In its homeland, the Caesar is second in popularity only to the staid Screwdriver. Although we remain unimpressed with the Screwdriver, we're pleased with any country that has a national cocktail that people actually like to drink.

As far as the timeline goes for classic cocktails, the Caesar achieved a sudden and lasting fame. In 1969, the higher-ups at the Calgary Westin Hotel asked their bar manager, Walter Chell, to mix up a cocktail for a contest to mark the opening of their Italian restaurant, called Marco's, in the Calgary Inn, across the street from the hotel. We'd be more suspicious about a Westin employee winning this Westin-sponsored contest if the Caesar weren't so tasty.

According to well-documented legend, Mr. Chell spent three months developing the Caesar recipe. From what we gather, mashing fresh clams into what Mr. Chell optimistically called "nectar" is no easy task. But his thinking demanded that the drink complement a menu of Italian foods made with vongole, tomato sauce, and clams. He rationalized that if it's good to eat, it's good to drink.

Early on in his experimentation, Mr. Chell merely called this drink the "Caesar." But one afternoon he had an Englishman sample his work. After hearing the man exclaim, "Walter, that's a damn good bloody Caesar," Mr. Chell extended the name to Bloody Caesar. It may be a direct quote, but we still don't buy the story. Besides, adding the word "bloody" only confuses the Caesar with its competition, and we have enough trouble getting this drink at bars more than two states south of the Canadian border.

Most bartenders (or hosts, for that matter) are loath to grind tomatoes and clams, and since we're not about to either, we never take offense at a Caesar made with Clamato juice. As we struggle to imagine the first two years of the Caesar's life - before Clamato came on the scene - we're amazed the recipe survived at all. Although invented in California by Mr. Duffy Mott, Clamato juice has yet to take off in the States with the same zeal as in Canada. In 1970, a Canadian broker brought the juice home from California, but the company he worked for sold only 500 cases in Canada that year. It wasn't until the importers traced a trail of Clamato to the Calgary Inn that they had found their true market.

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