Cognac

Cognac (pronounced kohn-yak, or kaw-nyak (French))

(1) The brandy distilled in and shipped from the legally delimited area surrounding the town of Cognac, in western-central France (often with initial capital letters).

(2) Any French brandy (now technically incorrect since passage of various laws and WTO rules).

(3) Any expensive brandy (also incorrect).

(4) A town in south-west France famed for the brandy distilled from grapes grown in the region.

(5) A descriptor used for a range of brown shades from earthy to reddish-brown.

1585-1595: Borrowed from French Coniacke, (wine produced in Cognac region of western France), cognac’s origin was as a distilling of an otherwise unsaleable white wine.  The term Cognac brandy was in use as early as the 1680s and the sense of it being “a superior brandy” dates from 1755.  The city's name is from Medieval Latin Comniacum, from the personal name Cominius + the Gallo-Roman suffix -acum (from -aceus (indicating a resemblance). Cominius is an old Italic family name.

James Suckling 100 points crystal cognac glass from Lalique.

Although the traditional balloon glass was long associated with brandy and cognac, the distillers now advise the best choice is actually a “tulip” glass because it permits the aromas better to waft to the nose.  That's the most important part in enjoying Cognac; it's not so much drunk as breathed in, consumed mostly by a mere moistening of the lips while slowly but deeply inhaling; a nip of cognac can last a long time.  Enjoyed thus, it really should be taken neat.  

Named after the town of Cognac, France and known within the trade also as eau de vie, cognac is a brandy produced in any of the designated growing regions approved by the Bureau National Interprofessionnel du Cognac (BNIC).  In a pleasing irony, it’s distilled from an extremely dry, thin and acidic white wine thought undrinkable and unsuitable even for cooking yet which is ideal for distilling.  Grand Marnier, the cognac-based liqueur, from the French grand (great) + Marnier-Lapostolle (name of the manufacturer) was first sold in 1901.

Although the BNIC is the body which writes the rules and controls production, the industry is regulated under the French Appellation d'origine contrôlée which codifies all regulations including the naming requirements.  One linguistic curiosities of the quintessentially French business of cognac business is the official grades (XO, VSOP etc) are in English because they were standardised in the eighteenth century when the trade was dominated by the British, even before Pax Britannia’s control of the sea lanes.  The BNIC’s categories are:

VS (Very Special), denoted usually by the three stars (☆☆☆) on the label, VS designates a blend in which the youngest brandy has been cask-aged for a minimum of two years.

VSOP (Very Superior Old Pale), still often (though now less frequently) called Reserve, designates a blend in which the youngest has been cask-aged for a minimum of two years.  VSOP is sometimes incorrectly cited as Very Special Old Port or Very Special Over Proof.

Napoléon designates a blend in which the youngest brandy has been cask-aged for a minimum of six years.  Although long used as a marketing term (often as a synonym for XO), Napoléon was never part of the official naming system of Cognacs, appearing only in recent years, when, as a transitional arrangement due to stocks not being sufficient to permit implementation of a change in the rule governing use of the XO label, it was used specifically to denote those blends which, while aged the requisite six years, did not in other ways conform with the revised XO specifications.  Slated originally for introduction in 2016, the revised rules were instead gazetted in 2018.

XO (Extra Old), designates a blend in which the youngest brandy has been cask-aged for a minimum of ten years.

XXO (Extra Extra Old), designates a blend in which the youngest brandy has been cask-aged for a minimum of fourteen years.

Hors d'âge (Beyond Age), designates a blend, at least functionally equivalent to XO, but is applied by distillers to a cognac with some special characteristics which distinguish it in some way.

The naming conventions aren’t as old as the spirit.  When first produced from un-aged distilled grape wine from the Charente in the early 1600s, there was no system of ageing designations and it was sold simply as brandy, or, from the 1680s, Cognac brandy.  By century’s end however, the wine houses began storing the brandy in barrels of oak and to distinguish the aged product, this was called “old”, the un-aged, “young”.  The now familiar, hierarchical naming regime for the oak-aged spirit didn't begin until a batch called VSOP (Very Special Old Pale) was bottled for the Prince of Wales (George Augustus Frederick, 1762–1830; King George IV of Great Britain 1820-1830).

Lindsay Lohan color-co-ordinated in cognac (hair, eyes, outfit & nails), Christian Siriano Spring 2023 Collection Show, New York Fashion Week, February 2023.

The French wine industry was little-regulated until the phylloxera (a type of aphid) crisis of the mid-nineteenth century induced the government in 1888 to create the Viticulture Committee with a remit which grew gradually from disease control to encompass other regulatory aspects of the industry.  One concern was the widespread counterfeiting of cognac and in 1909 a decree was issued which defined the “Cognac” appellation area as the eight Cognac vintages named in a map based upon the work of geologist and paleontologist Henri Coquand (1813-1881).  It’s that map which remains the basis of the rule that cognac can only be produced within a delimited geographical area, defined by the 1909 decree which meant the “Cognac”, “Eau-de-vie de Cognac”, and “Eau-de-vie des Charentes” appellations are restricted exclusively to wine spirits grown and distilled within the defined regions of Charente-Maritime and Charente, as well as several villages in the Dordogne and Deux-Sèvres departments.

Later, the regulatory body was the National Bureau of Distribution of Cognac Wines and Eaux (NBDCWE) which in 1936 defined the conditions for the production of eaux-de-vie giving rise to the “cognac” appellation and two years later re-defined the appellation area, commune by commune, vintage by vintage.  The 1936 ruling outlined the requirements for distilled wine or brandy to be considered Cognac, mandating (1) the product must originate in the Cognac Appellation d’origine contrôlée (AOC) mapped that year, (2) that the grapes used to make cognac must come from one of the six designated growing areas (crus) located in the Cognac region (the six crus including  Borderies, Fins Bois, Bons Bois and Bois Ordinaires, Bois à terroirs, Grande Champagne and Petite Champagne), (3) that the grapes must come from one of the six approved appellations and (4), the cognac must be made from grapes blended from 90% eau de vie from Ugni Blanc, Folle Blanche and Colombard grapes with up to 10% Folignan, Jurancon blanc, Blanc Rame, Montils or Semillon grapes.

The NBDCWE was in 1946 replaced by the NIBC and in 1983 it formalized the long-established designations used to classify cognacs by age.  The designations are determined by the youngest eau-de-vie blended in the Cognac, thus nothing may be represented as cognac unless it has been aged at least two years (the VS (Very Special standard)).  The distillers may sell younger eau-de-vie as brandy (for example Rémy Martin’s Rémy V) but not labelled as cognac.  The point of the designations being based on the youngest part of the blend is significant in that a VS cognac may contain a proportion of much older eau-de-vie.  It’s for that reason some cognacs are sold without an official designation attached, if it’s thought by the house the label might confuse or inaccurately portray nature of the blend.  Rémy Martin’s 1738 Royal Accord by contains eau-de-vie aged between four & twenty years and thus, technically, is a VSOP but the house chose to forego a designation because it would tend to undersell the value of blend which included eaux-de-vie aged up to twenty years.

Most expensive: Henri IV Dudognon Heritage Cognac Grande Champagne.  Listed at almost US$2 million, it’s bottled in crystal which is dipped in 24-karat gold and Sterling platinum with 6,500 certified cut diamonds as decoration.  Said now to be aimed at the Middle-East market since the Standing Committee of the Chinese Communist Party's (CCP) Politburo cracked down on such extravagances, it’s assumed not many mix this with Coca-Cola.

Highly regarded: Remy Martin’s Louis XIII Grande Champagne Très Vieille Age Inconnu (pre-1950).  There was an official price list on which this appeared but, because of limited supply, it’s really only indicative and most sell at auction, the highest known paid for a decanter thought to be the US$44,630 achieved in a private Hong Kong sale in 2013.

Most fancy box: Camus Cuvee 5.150.  Camus use a sequential numbering system for their more interesting releases, the 5.150 the fifth release in their master collection which marked the company’s sesquicentenary (150 years).  With production limited to a run of 1,482, thoughtfully the crystal decanter was supplied with a brace of tasting glasses, presumably to dissuade those buyers tempted to drink straight from the bottle.  According to Camus, the 5.150 is a blend of five distinct and rare eaux-de-vie from five different regions and is unique in the history of cognac.  A bottle was listed at US$13,500.

Most interesting choice of packaging materials: Hennessy Beaute du Siecle Cognac.  Unusually in an industry which tends to favor creations made from precious metals and stones when packaging its more extravagant products, Hennessy’s most expensive cognac comes in a one litre bottle and a container styled in the manner of an art deco jewel-box, rendered in aluminum and bronze.  Limited to an edition of one-hundred and priced at US$194,927, the designer was French artist Jean-Michel Othoniel (b 1964).

Most expensive by the glass: Croizet Cognac Leonie 1858. General Eisenhower is said on the eve of the D-Day landings in 1944 to have shared a couple of nips of the 1858 with Winston Churchill, the bottle liberated from somewhere.  One sold at auction in 2011 for US$156,760 but for a more manageable US$8,764, it’s available by the glass (a 40 ml (1.3 oz) nip) at the InterContinental in Hong Kong.  Founded in 1805, Croizet is one of the older cognac houses and bottles only single vintages, a rarity in the industry but not even they can replicate the original.  It was distilled with grapes picked from vines with a lineage back to those planted by Julius Caesar’s armies in 55 BC and is the only cognac of its kind left because the vines were destroyed in the great phylloxera crisis of the 1870s.  At US$8,764 a nip, supply is dwindling slowly but, once gone, that’s it.  To encourage consumption, the InterContinental Hong Kong’s Lobby Lounge uses it in what’s claimed to be the world’s most expensive cocktail, the US$13,919 Winston which includes also Grand Marnier, Chartreuse VEP and Angostura bitters.  Better value for money is probably the hotel’s VVIP Presidential Suite Cognac Croizet Experience which, for US$166,117, includes a two-night stay in the Presidential Suite, a bottle of the 1858, a paired menu created by their Executive Chef and exclusive access to the Cognac Croizet vineyards for up to four people in Charentes, near Bordeaux.  During the one-night stay, there's a tour of the estate, gourmet dining and a cognac-blending tutorial from the cellar master.

Best value: Frapin Château Fontpinot XO. It tends to retail around US$175 (US$2000 a dozen)) and is one of the most rewarding XO blends.  Although many treat the language of wine tasting with some derision, just inhaling the vapors of the Fontpinot XO really does  summon thoughts of dark chocolate, still juicy dried fruit, warm caramel and herbs.  There are many more expensive cognacs with a similar taste but few match the endless aromatics of this one.  It’s a economical purchase too because one tends to neglect drinking, just to longer enjoy breathing it in.

Oldest vintage sold at auction: Gautier Cognac 1762.  In 2020, a bottle of Gautier Cognac 1762, the largest of the three known still to exist, was sold by Sotheby’s for US$144,525.  In 1762, Britain was entering the Seven Years’ War, Catherine II was empress of Russia, Mozart was six years old and George Washington had just turned thirty.  Cognac remains cheap by auction standards, the record price achieved by wine being the US$558,000 realized by a 1945 Romanee-Conti while ancient bottles of single-malt Scotch whisky have sold for almost US$2 million.  The new owner was described only as “an Asian private collector” and Sotheby’s added the buyer would get to “enjoy a bespoke experience at Maison Gautier, courtesy of the distillery” as part of his winning bid.

The future of the contents isn’t known but the auction house claimed, though some two-hundred and sixty years on, it should still be drinkable.  Their expert revealed the opinion is based on (1) the ullage (level of liquid inside) which was high, suggesting that the seal had not been compromised so evaporation was thus minimal and (2) a pleasing OBE (old bottle effect), the quality of which is determined by whether it imparts either a pleasant “tropical” note or the less appealing “porridge-y” sound.  He did add however that because glass isn’t entirely inert, it would have imparted some flavor of its own.  That notwithstanding, he suspected the depth of flavor from grapes grown on ancient root stock could give the spirit a complexity different from that known in the modern era.

Thermidor

Thermidor (pronounced thur-mi-dawr or ter-mee-dawr (French))

(1) In the French Revolutionary calendar, the eleventh month of the year (19 (or 20) July to 17 (or 18) August); it was also called Fervidor (both terms now only of historic interest).

(2) As Thermidorian Reaction, a counterrevolution or coup d'état in some way recalling the events in Paris in July 1794.

(3) As lobster thermidor (both elements sometimes capitalized), a method of preparing the unfortunate crustacean for consumption.

Borrowed from French thermidor, from the Ancient Greek θέρμη (thérmē) (hot; heat) + δῶρον (dôron) (gift), the construct thus construct being thérm(ē) + (i) + dôr(on).  Thermidor is a noun & proper noun, thermion is a noun, thermidorien & thermidorian are nouns & adjective and thermionic is an adjective; the noun plural is thermidors.

In the history of revolutionary France, the noun thermidorian is used to refer to (1) a member of the politically moderate (a relative term) group who participated in the events of the 9th Thermidor (27 July 1794) and (2) a supporter of the reactionary movement following the coup d'état.  The use in political discourse was named after the play Thermidor (1891) by Victorien Sardou (1831–1908), itself named for the eleventh month of the French Republican Calendar.  The Coup d'état of 9 Thermidor (remembered in many reports as “the Fall of Maximilien Robespierre” (1758–1794)) was triggered by Robespierre's address to the National Convention on 26 July 1794), a speech which prompted his arrest the next day and his death on the guillotine the day after.  Due process is a quick business in revolutionary times.  Robespierre’s fateful words included a reference to “internal enemies, conspirators, and calumniators” within revolutionary movement but he declined to name names, giving rise among his colleagues to fears he was plotting another great purge of their numbers.

Comrade Stalin (left), an ice axe (centre) and comrade Trotsky (right).

Comrade Leon Trotsky (1879-1940; founder of the Fourth International) in The Revolution Betrayed: What Is the Soviet Union and Where Is It Going? (1936) had a feeling for the political phrase and labelled the state created by comrade Joseph Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) a “Soviet Thermidor” because although Tsarist era capitalism wasn’t re-created (a la the monarchy in France not being restored in the 1790s), the combination of a bureaucracy supporting a personality cult (even if the latter was in 1936 still somewhat disguised) was “a counterrevolutionary regression” which betrayed what was achieved by comrade Vladimir Lenin (1870–1924; head of government of Russia or Soviet Union 1917-1924) between 1917-1924.  The phrase caught the imagination of many, notably those in the Partido Obrero de Unificación Marxista (The POUM, the Workers' Party of Marxist Unification), a non-communist Marxist party (a surprisingly populated fork of left-wing thought) which comrade Stalin correctly associated with Trotskyism.  The POUM was highly productive in thought but drifted increasingly far from the moorings of political reality although rhetoric which included polemics like “Stalinist Thermidorians have established in Russia the bureaucratic regime of a poisoned dictator.”  Agents of the Narodný komissariat vnutrennih del (NKVD, The People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs and one of the many predecessors to the KGB), answerable only to comrade Stalin, killed dozens of POUM’s Central Committee which ended the organization’s effectiveness for a generation.  In his prodigious memory, comrade Stalin filed away annoying phrases and in 1940 he had comrade Trotsky murdered in Mexico.  The murder weapon was an ice-axe.

Lobster Thermidor

Lobster Thermidor is a creamy, cheesy mixture of cooked lobster meat, egg yolks, and cognac or sherry, stuffed into a lobster shell and served usually with a an oven-browned cheese crust.  In restaurants, it’s an expensive dish because lobsters are now high-priced (there was a time when they were eaten almost only by the working class) but especially because it’s something with a high labor component.  Cooked at home, without the need to charge out labor, it’s a form of extravagance on a budget and it’s a favorite among the dinner party set and the ideal thing to serve as a prelude to discussions about house prices.

Ingredients

2 lobsters
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons minced shallots
½ teaspoon minced garlic
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons cognac or brandy
¾ cup milk
¼ cup heavy cream
¾ teaspoon sea salt
¼ teaspoon ground white pepper
½ cup finely grated Parmesan, plus 2 tablespoons
1 tablespoon dry mustard powder
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh tarragon leaves
2 teaspoons finely chopped parsley, plus additional for garnish
¼ cup shredded gruyere cheese

Lobster Thermidor is a signature dish at Texas-based Prime Steak & Seafood and their web-site includes photographs to encourage bookings.

Instructions (cooking lobster)

(1) Fill a large, deep stock pot with about 3-4 inches (75-100 mm) of water and add enough sea-salt to make it as salty as sea-water.  Some add aromatics like herbs or lemon to enhance the flavor but thermidor purists insist thing shouldn’t be done and that all such work must be done by the sauce.  Only ever cook live lobsters.  If this is not practical, pre-cooked lobsters are available.

 (2) Once the water has been brought to the boil, add the lobsters (head first) to the pot.  Steaming is the best way to cook lobster because the meat becomes less waterlogged and less flavor in lost to the liquid.

(3) Cover tightly and steam lobsters for 8 minutes per pound (.454 kg), for the first pound and then an additional 3 minutes per pound.  Thus, if the total weight being cooked is 2 lb, cooking time will be about 10 minutes.

(4) Using tongs, remove lobsters from the pot and check to ensure they are cooked.  A fully cooked lobster will register 135-140˚F (57-60˚C) when a quick-read thermometer is inserted into the thickest part of the tail (always insert device into the tail’s underside).

Instructions (lobster thermidor)

(5) Preheat oven to 375˚F (190˚C).

(6) Line a baking sheet with aluminium foil and set aside.

(7) Cut lobsters in half (length-wise and a sharp blade will be needed) and remove the tail meat.

(8) Gently twist claws from the body and gently crack with the back of a heavy knife to remove the meat.  Gently pull the front legs from the shell and discard (some retain them for decorative purposes.

(9) Chop the tail meat and claw meat into bite sized pieces and set aside.

(10) Place the halved lobster shells on the baking sheet and set aside.

(11) Melt butter in a deep skillet over medium heat.  Add shallots and garlic, stirring, until fragrant (about 30 seconds).  Add the flour and whisk to combine.

(12) Cook the flour mixture, stirring constantly to make a light roux (approximately 2 minutes).

(13) Add cognac and cook for 10 seconds, stirring constantly.

(14) Slowly add milk, stirring constantly until combined.  Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and simmer until thick enough to coat the back of a spoon (approximately 2-3 minutes).

(15) Slowly add cream, stirring constantly, until thoroughly combined.  Continue cooking while stirring over medium heat for 1 minute (done correctly, this will have produced a very thick mix.  Season with salt and pepper.

(16) Remove from heat and stir in the parmesan cheese, mustard, tarragon, and parsley.  Fold in the lobster meat.

(17) Divide the mixture among the lobster shells and place stuffed side up on a clean baking sheet.

(18) Sprinkle the top of each lobster with the gruyere and broil until the top is golden brown (should take 5-6 minutes).

(19) Place 1 lobster half on each plate, garnish with additional parsley, and serve immediately.

Lindsay Lohan rescues a lobster from the ice, saving it from becoming lobster thermidor (the crustacean’s ultimate fate is unknown).  Lohan Beach Club, 2019.

Cosmopolitan

Cosmopolitan (pronounced koz-muh-pol-i-tn)

(1) One free from local, provincial, or national ideas, prejudices, or attachments; an internationalist.

(2) One with the characteristics of a cosmopolite.

(3) A cocktail made with vodka, cranberry juice, an orange-flavored liqueur, and lime juice.

(4) Sophisticated, urbane, worldly.

(5) Of plants and animals, wildly distributed species.

(6) The vanessa cardui butterfly.

(7) A moth of species Leucania loreyi.

1828:  An adoption in Modern English, borrowed from the French cosmopolite (citizen of the world), ultimately derived from the Ancient Greek kosmopolitēs (κοσμοπολίτης), the construct being kósmos (κόσμος) (world) + politēs (πολίτης) (citizen); word being modeled on metropolitan.  The US magazine Cosmopolitan was first published in 1886.  Derived forms (hyphenated and not) have been constructed as needed including noncosmopolitan, subcosmopolitan, ultracosmopolitan, fauxcosmopolitan, anticosmopolitan & protocosmopolitan.  Because cosmopolitanness is a spectrum condition, the comparative is “more cosmopolitan” and the superlative “most cosmopolitan”.  Cosmopolitan is a noun & adjective, cosmopolitanism & cosmopolitanness are nouns, cosmopolitanize is a verb, cosmopolitanist is an adjective (and plausibly a noun) and cosmopolitanly is an adverb; the noun plural is cosmopolitans.

An aspect of Soviet Cold War policy under comrade Stalin

The phrase rootless cosmopolitans was coined in the nineteenth century by Vissarion Belinsky (1811-1848), a Russian literary critic much concerned about Western influences on both Russian literature and society.  He applied it to writers he felt “…lacked Russian national character” but as a pejorative euphemism, it’s now an anti-Semitic slur and one most associated with domestic policy in the Soviet Union (USSR) between 1946 and Stalin's death in 1953.  Comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) liked the phrase and applied it to the Jews, a race of which he was always suspicious because he thought their lack of a homeland made them “mystical, intangible and other-worldly”.  Not a biological racist like Hitler and other rabid anti-Semites, Stalin’s enemies were those he perceived a threat; Leon Trotsky (1879-1940), Grigory Zinoviev (1883–1936) and Lev Kamenev (1883–1936) were disposed of not because they were Jewish but because Stalin thought they might threaten his hold on power although the point has been made that while it wasn’t because he was Jewish that Trotsky was murdered, many Jews would come to suffer because Stalin associated them with Trotsky.

Comrade Stalin signing death warrants.

It was the same with institutions.  He found disturbing the activities of Moscow’s Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee (JAC) and did not approve them being accepted by Western governments as representing the USSR.  Further, he feared the JAC’s connections with foreign powers might create a conduit for infiltration by Western influences; well Stalin knew the consequences of people being given ideas; the campaign of 1946-1953 was thus more analogous with the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) opposition to the Falun Gong rather than the pogroms of Tsarist times.  Authoritarian administrations don’t like independent organisations; politics needs to be monolithic and control absolute.  In a speech in Moscow in 1946, he described certain Jewish writers and intellectuals, as “rootless cosmopolitans” accusing them of a lack of patriotism, questioning their allegiance to the USSR.  This theme festered but it was the creation of the state of Israel in 1948, fostering as it did an increased self consciousness among Soviet Jews, combined with the Cold War which turned Stalin into a murderous anti-Semite.

Rootless cosmopolitan Comrade Trotsky, murdered with an ice axe on comrade Stalin's orders.

Before the formation of the state of Israel, Stalin's anti-Semitism was more a Russian mannerism than any sort of obsession.  For years after assuming absolute power in the USSR, he expressed no disquiet at the preponderance of Jews in the foreign ministry and it was only in 1939, needing a temporary diplomatic accommodation with Nazi Germany, that he acted.  Having replaced the Jewish Foreign Commissar, Maxim Litvinov (1876–1951; People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs of the Soviet Union 1930–1939) with Vyacheslav Molotov (1890-1986; USSR Minister of Foreign Affairs 1939-1949 & 1953-1956), he ordered him to purge the diplomatic corps of Jews, his memorable phrase being "clean out the synagogue".  Concerned the presence of Jews might be an obstacle to rapprochement with Hitler, Stalin had the purge effected with his usual efficiency: many were transferred to less conspicuous roles and others were arrested or shot.

Meeting of minds: Joachim von Ribbentrop (left), comrade Stalin (centre) and comrade Molotov (right), the Kremlin, 23 August 1939.

Negotiations began in the summer of 1939, concluding with German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945) leading a delegation to Moscow to meet with Molotov and Stalin.  It proved a remarkably friendly conference of political gangsters and agreement was soon reached, the German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact (usually called the Nazi-Soviet Pact or Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact) being signed on 23 August.  The pact contained also a notorious secret protocol by which the two dictators agreed to a carve-up of Poland consequent upon the impending Nazi invasion and the line dividing Poland between the two was almost identical to the Curzon Line, a demarcation between the new Polish Republic created in the aftermath of World War I (1914-1918) and the emergent Soviet Union which had been proposed by Lord Curzon (1859–1925; UK foreign secretary 1919-1924).  At the Yalta Conference in 1945, during the difficult negotiations over Polish borders, Molotov habitually referred to "the Curzon Line" and the UK Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden (1897–1977; thrice UK foreign secretary & prime minister 1955-1957), in a not untypically bitchy barb, observed it was more common practice to call it the “Molotov-Ribbentrop line”.  "Call it whatever you like" replied Stalin, "we still think it's fair and just".  Comrade Stalin rarely cared much to conceal the nature of the regime he crafted in his own image.  When asked by Franklin Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945) if Molotov had been to New York during his visit to the US, Stalin replied: "No, he went to Chicago to be with the other gangsters".

Whatever the motives of Stalin, rootless cosmopolitans has joined the code of dog-whistle politics, a part of the core demonology to label the Jews a malign race, a phrase in the tradition of "Christ killers", "Rothschild-Capitalists and Untermenschen (the sub-humans).  Despite that, there are always optimists, Jewish writer Vincent Brook (b 1946), suggesting the term could convey the positive, a suggestion the Jews possess an “adaptability and empathy for others”.  It’s not a view widely shared and rootless cosmopolitan remains an anti-Semitic trope although it's not unknown for Jews to use it ironically.

The Cosmopolitan cocktail

A brace of Cosmos.

The Cosmopolitan was based on the "Cosmopolitan 1934" cocktail, a mix from inter-war New York which included gin, Cointreau & and lemon juice, raspberry syrup lending the trademark pink hue.  The modern Cosmopolitan was also concocted in New York and seems to have appeared first in the Mid-1980s although it was appearances in the HBO (Home Box Office) television series Sex and the City (1998-2004) which made it as emblematic of a certain turn-of-the-millennium New York lifestyle as Manolo Blahnik’s stilettos but, the implications of that connotation aside, the enticing pink drink survived to remain a staple of cocktail lists.  Cosmopolitans can be made individually or as a batch to be poured from a pitcher; just multiply the ingredient count by however many are to be served.

Ingredients

2 oz (¼ cup) vodka (or citrus vodka according to taste)

½ ounce (1 tablespoon) triple sec, Cointreau (or Grand Marnier)

¾ oz (1½ tablespoons) cranberry juice

¼-½ ounce (1 ½-3 teaspoons) fresh lime juice

One 2-inch (50 mm) orange peel/twist

Instructions

(1) Add vodka, Cointreau, cranberry juice, and lime juice to a cocktail shaker filled with ice.

(2) Shake until well chilled.

(3) Strain into a chilled cocktail glass (classically a coupé or Martini glass).

(4) An orange or lemon twist is the traditional garnish.

Notes

(1) As a general principle, the higher the quality of the vodka, the better the Cosmopolitan, the lower priced sprits tending to taste rather more abrasive which for certain purposes can be good but doesn’t suit a “Cosmo”.

(2) The choice of unsweetened or sweetened cranberry juice (the latter sold sometimes as “cranberry juice cocktail”) is a matter of taste and if using the unsweetened most will prefer if a small splash of sugar syrup (or agave) is added because tartness isn’t associated with a Cosmopolitan.

(3) There is however a variant which is sometimes mixed deliberately to be tart.  That’s the “White Cosmo”, made by using white cranberry juice.

(4) Of the orange liqueur: Most mixologists recommend Cointreau but preference is wholly subjective and Cointreau & Grand Marnier variously are used, the consensus being Cointreau (a type of Triple Sec) is smoother, stronger and more complex.  Grand Marnier is also a type of Triple Sec, one combined with Cognac so the taste is richer, nutty and caramelized which some prefer.

(5) Of the lime juice: It really is worth the effort to cut and squeeze a fresh lime.  Packaged lime juice will work but something of the bite of the citrus always is lost in the processing, packaging, storage and transporting the stuff endures.

(6) Art of the orange peel: The use of the term “garnish” of suggests something which is merely decorative: visual bling and ultimately superfluous but because cocktails are designed to be sipped, as one lingers over ones’s Cosmopolitan, from the peel will come a faint orange aroma, adding to the experience as the fumes of a cognac enhance things; spirits and cocktails are “breathed in” as well as swallowed.

(7) Science of the orange peel: When peeling orange, do it over glass so the oil spurting (viewed close-up under high-magnification, it really is more spurt than spray) from the pores in the skin ends up in the drink.  For the ultimate effect, rub the rim of the glass with the peel, down a half-inch on the outside so lips can enjoy the sensation.

The presidential “parade convertible” 1950 Lincoln Cosmopolitan, parked outside 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington DC.

In the US, the Ford Motor Company (FoMoCo) produced the Lincoln Cosmopolitan between 1949-1954 but only in its first season was it the “top-of-the-range” model, “designation demotion” something which would over the decades become popular in Detroit.  Political legend has it Harry Truman (1884–1972; US president 1945-1953) personally selected Lincoln to supply the presidential car fleet as an act of revenge against General Motors (GM), the corporation having declined to provide him with cars to use during the 1948 election campaign.  It’s assumed GM’s management was reading the polls and assumed they’d need only to wait to wait for a call from president elect Thomas Dewey (1902–1971) but as things turned out, Mr Dewey never progressed beyond president-presumptive so GM didn’t get the commission, the keys to Cadillacs not returning to the Oval Office until the administration of Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989).  While it wouldn’t much have consoled the GM board, there was some of their technology in the Lincolns because, FoMoCo was compelled to buy heavy-duty Hydra-Matic transmissions from Cadillac, their own automatic gearbox not then ready for production.

The presidential “parade convertible” 1950 Lincoln Cosmopolitan with “Bubbletop” fitted.

The White House leased ten Lincoln Cosmopolitans which were modified by coach-builders who added features such as longer wheelbases and raised roof-lines.  Nine were full-enclosed limousines while one was an armoured “parade convertible” (a “cabriolet D” in the Mercedes-Benz naming system) which was an impressive 20-odd feet (6 metres) in length.  The car used a large-displacement version of the old Ford flathead V8 (introduced in 1932) and weighing a hefty 6,500 lb (2,900 kg), performance wasn’t sparkling but given its role was slowly to percolate along crowd-lined boulevards, it was “adequate.  In 1954, during the administration of Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; US president 1953-1961), the parade convertible was fitted with a Plexiglas roof (a material the president would have been familiar with because it was used on some World War II (1939-1945) aircraft and in this form the Lincoln came to share the aircrafts’ nickname: “Bubbletop”.  The “Bubbletop” Cosmopolitan remained in service in the White House fleet until 1967.

The Glossies

Lindsay Lohan, Cosmopolitan, various international editions: April, May & June, 2006.

Cosmopolitan Magazine was launched in 1886 as a family journal of fashion, household décor, cooking, and other domestic interests.  It survived in a crowded market but its publisher did not and within two years Cosmopolitan was taken over by another which added book reviews and serialized fiction to the content.  This attracted the specialist house founded by John Brisben Walker (1847-1931), which assumed control in 1889, expanding its circulation twenty-fold to become one of America’s most popular literary magazines.  The Hurst Corporation acquired the title in 1905, briefly adding yellow-journalism before settling on a format focused on short fiction, celebrities and public affairs.  The formula proved an enduring success, circulation reaching two million by 1940 and this was maintained until a decline began in the mid 1950s, general-interest magazines being squeezed out by specialist titles and the time-consuming steamroller of television.

It was the appointment in 1965 of Helen Gurley Brown (1922–2012) as editor which signalled Cosmopolitan’s shift to a magazine focused exclusively on an emerging and growing demographic with high disposable income: the young white women of the baby boom.  In what proved a perfect conjunction, a target market with (1) economic independence, (2) social freedom, (3) an embryonic feminist awareness and (4) the birth control pill, the magazine thrived, surviving even the rush of imitators its success spawned.  Gurley Brown had in 1962 published the best seller advice manual, Sex and the Single Girl and Cosmopolitan essentially, for decades, reproduced variations on the theme in a monthly, glossy package.  It was clearly a gap in the market.  The approach was a success but there was criticism.  Conservatives disliked the choices in photography and the ideas young women were receiving.  Feminists were divided, some approved but others thought the themes regressive, a retreat from the overtly political agenda of the early movement into something too focused on fun and fashion, reducing women yet again to objects seeking male approbation.

Taylor Swift (b 1989), in purple on the cover of Cosmopolitan, December, 2014.

Still published in many international editions, Cosmopolitan Australia was one casualty of market forces, closed after a final printing in December 2018.  However, surprising many, Katarina Kroslakova (b 1978) in April 2024 announced her publishing house KK Press, in collaboration with New York-based Hearst Magazines International, would resume production of Cosmopolitan Australia as a bi-monthly and the first edition of the re-launched version was released in August, 2024.  Other than appearing in six issues per year rather than the traditional twelve, the format remained much the same, echoing Elle Australia which re-appeared on newsstands in March, ending a four-year hiatus.  Both revivals would as recently as 2023 have surprised industry analysts because the conventional, post-Covid wisdom was there existed in this segment few niches for time consuming and expensive titles in glossy print.

Amelia Dimoldenberg (b 1994) in polka-dots, on the cover of Cosmopolitan Australia April | May, 2025 (Issue 5, digital edition) which is downloadable file (96 MB in Adobe's PDF (portable document format) format.  Where digital titles have a history in print, the convention is to use the traditional cover format.  Even in the digital age, some legacy items have a genuine value to be exploited.

Ms Kroslakova clearly saw a viable business model and was quoted as saying print magazines are “the new social media” which was an interesting way of putting it but she explained the appeal by adding: “We need that 15 minutes to drop everything and actually have something tangible and beautiful in our hands to consume.  If we can present content which is multi-layered and deep and has authenticity and connection with the reader – that’s a really excellent starting point.”  She may have a point because in an age where screen-based content is intrinsically impermanent, the tactile pleasure of the traditional glossy may have genuine appeal, at least for an older readership who can remember the way things used to be done, something perhaps hinted at by her “15 minutes” reference, now regarded by many media analysts as a long-term connection given the apparent shortening of attention spans and after all, bound glossy pages are just another technology.  The revival of the print editions of Elle and Cosmopolitan will be an interesting experiment in a difficult economic environment which may get worse before it gets better.  Whether the novelty will attract enough of the "affluent readers" (what used to be called the A1, A2 & B1 demographic) to convince advertisers that it's a place to run their copy will likely decide the viability of the venture and while it's not impossible that will happen, Cosmopolitan is a couple of rungs down the ladder from the "prestige" titles (Vogue the classic mainstream example) which have maintained an advertising base. Cosmopolitan Australia offers a variety of subscription offers, the lowest unit cost available with a two-year, print + digital bundle (12 issues for Aus$105).

Lindsay Lohan on the cover of Cleo: March 2005 (left) and May 2009 (right).

Published in Australia between 1972-2016, Cleo was a monthly magazine targeted broadly at the demographic buying Cosmopolitan.  It was for decades successful and although there was some overlap in readership (and certainly advertising content), there was a perception there existed as distinct species “Cleo women” and “Cosmo women”.  Flicking through the glossy pages, husbands and boyfriends might have struggled to see much thematic variation although it’s likely they looked only at the pictures.  In the same vein, other than the paint, actual Cleo & Cosmo readers mostly probably wouldn’t have noticed much difference between Ford & Chevrolet V8s so it’s really a matter of where one’s interests lie (just because something is sexist stereotyping doesn’t mean it’s not true).  Had the men bothered to read the editorial content, they wouldn’t have needed training in textual deconstruction to detect both titles made much use of “cosmospeak”, a sub-dialect of English coined to describe the jargon, copy style and buzzwords characteristic of post 1950s Cosmopolitan magazine which contributed much to the language of non-academic “lipstick feminism”.  To summarize the market differentiation in women’s magazines, the industry joke was: “Cosmopolitan teaches you how to have an organism”, Cleo teaches you how to fake an organism and the Women’s Weekly teaches you how to knit an organism”.  As a footnote, when in 1983 the Women’s Weekly changed from a weekly to monthly format, quickly rejected was the idea the title might be changed to “Women’s Monthly”.

Martyrdom of the Saints Cosmas and Damian, oil on canvas by Fra Angelico (Guido di Pietro, circa 1395-1455), Musée du Louvre, Paris, France).  Fra was from the Italian frate (monk) and was a title for a Roman Catholic monk or friar (equivalent to Brother).

“Cleo” was a spunky two syllables but “Cosmopolitan” had a time-consuming five so almost universally it was used as “Cosmo”.  In Italy, Cosmo is a male given name and a variant of Cosimo, from the third century saint Cosmas who, with his brother Damian, was martyred in Syria during one of the many crackdowns on Christianity.  The name was from the Ancient Greek κόσμος (kósmos) (order, ordered universe), source of the now familiar “cosmos”.  Cosmas and Damian were Arab physicians who converted to Christianity and while ostensibly they suffered martyrdom for their faith, there may have been a financial motive because the brothers practiced much “free medicine”, not charging the poor for their “cures” so their services were understandably popular and thus a threat to the business model of the politically well-connected medical establishment.  The tension between medicine as some sort of social right and an industry run by corporations for profit has occasionally been suppressed but it’s never gone away, illustrated by the battles fought when the (literally) socialist post-war Labour government (1945-1951) established the UK’s NHS (National Health Service) and the (allegedly) socialist “Obamacare” (Affordable Care Act (ACA, 2010)) became law in the US.  By the twenty-first century, the medical establishment could no longer arrange decapitations of cut-price competitors threatening the profit margins but the conflicts remain, witness the freelancing of Luigi Mangione (1998).

The Mazda Cosmo

1968 Mazda Cosmo 110S (110S the export designation).

Although the Mazda corporation dates from 1920, it was another 40 years before it produced its first cars (one of the tiny 360 cm³ “kei cars” (a shortened form of kei-jidōsha, (軽自動車) (light vehicle)) so the appearance at the Tokyo Motor Show of the Cosmo Sport created quite an impression and that it was powered by a two-rotor Wankel rotary engine produced under licence from the German owners added to international interest.  Over two series, series production lasted from 1967 until 1972 but the intricate design was labour intensive to build and being expensive, demand was limited so in five years fewer than 1,200 were sold.  That makes it more of a rarity than a Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing (the W198, 1,400 of those built 1954-1957) and while Cosmo prices haven’t reached the level of the German car, it is a collectable and a number are now in museums and collections.  Mazda continued to use the Cosmo name until 1996 and while none of the subsequent models were as intriguing as the original, some versions of the JC Series Eunos Cosmo (1990–1996) enjoy the distinction of being the world’s only production car fitted with a three-rotor Wankel engine (the 1969 Mercedes-Benz C111 was a Wankel test-bed). 

1975 Mazda Roadpacer (HJ model)

The Eunos Cosmo was not the only Mazda with a unique place in the troubled history of the Wankel engine, the Roadpacer (1975-1977) also a footnote.  Most Holden fans, as one-eyed as any, don’t have especially fond memories of the HJ (1974-1976) range; usually, all they’ll say is its face-lifted replacement (the HX (1976-1977)), was worse.  With its chassis not including the RTS (radial tuned suspension) which lent the successor HZ (1975-1980) such fine handling and with engines strangled by the crude plumbing used in the era to reduce emissions, driving the HJ or HX really wasn’t a rewarding experience (although the V8 versions retained some charm) so there might have been hope Mazda’s curious decision to use fit their smooth-running, two-rotor Wankel to the HJ Premier and sell it as their top-of-the range executive car might have transformed the thing.  That it did but the peaky, high-revving rotary was wholly unsuited to the relatively large, heavy car.  Despite producing less power and torque than even the anaemic 202 cubic inch (3.3 litre) Holden straight-six it replaced, so hard did it have to work to shift the weight that fuel consumption was worse even than when Holden fitted their hardly economical 308 cubic inch (5.0 litre) V8 for the home market.  Available only in Japan and sold officially between 1975-1977, fewer than eight-hundred were built, the company able to off-load the last of the HXs only in early 1980.  The only thing to which Mazda attached its name not mentioned in their corporate history, it's the skeleton in the Mazda closet and the company would prefer we forget the thing which it seems to think of as "our Edsel".  The Roadpacer did though provide one other footnote, being the only car built by General Motors (GM) ever sold with a Wankel engine.  

The archbishop and the abdication

Archbishop Cosmo Gordon Lang (1932), oil on canvas by Anglo-Hungarian society portraitist Philip Alexius László de Lombos (1869–1937 and known professionally as Philip de László).  Lang was christened Cosmo in honor of the local Laird (in Scotland, historically a feudal lord and latterly the “courtesy title” of an area’s leading land-owner, most prominent citizen etc).  The noun Laird was from the northern or Scottish Middle English lard & laverd (a variant of lord).

Scottish Anglican prelate Cosmo Gordon Lang (First Baron Lang of Lambeth, 1864–1945; Archbishop of York 1908–1928 & Archbishop of Canterbury 1928–1942 was a clergyman with uncompromising views about much.  This type was once common in pulpits and although those of his faction exist still in the the modern Church of England, fearing cancellation, they tend now to exchange views only behind closed doors.  He’d probably be today almost forgotten were it not for an incendiary broadcast he made (as Archbishop of Canterbury and thus spiritual head of the Church of England and the worldwide Anglican community) on BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) Radio on 13 December, 1936, two days after the abdication of Edward VIII (1894–1972; King of the UK & Emperor of India, January-December 1936, subsequently Duke of Windsor).  The address to the nation remains the most controversial public intervention made by a Church of England figure in the twentieth century, judged by many to be needlessly sanctimonious and distastefully personal, its political dimension the least objectionable aspect.

As a piece of text it did have a pleasingly medieval feel, opening with some memorable passages including: “From God he received a high and sacred trust. Yet by his own will he has abdicated” and “It is tragic that the sacred trust was not held with a firmer grip”.  That set the tone although when he said: “There has been much sympathy with the king in his great personal difficulty, and I do not forget how deeply he has touched the hearts of millions with his warm interest in the homes and lives of his people” his large audience may have thought some Christian charity did lurk in the Archbishop’s soul but quickly he let that moment pass, returning to his theme: “The causes which led to the king's decision are fully known to the nation.  But it has been made plain that the reigning sovereign of this country must be one whose private life and public conduct can be trusted to reflect the Christian ideal."

Unlike many modern Archbishops, there was no ambiguity about Lang so in his defense it can be argued he provided the Church with a moral clarity of greater certainty than anything which has in recent decades emanated from Lambeth Palace.  So there was that but by the 1930s the mood of opinion-makers in the UK had shifted and Lang’s text was seen as morally judgmental and the idea Edward VIII had failed not so much as a constitutional monarch but in his divine duty seemed archaic, few in the country framing things as the king’s personal failure before God.  What was clear was old Lang's point Edward’s relationship with a twice-divorced woman disqualified him morally and spiritually from being king which many critics within the church thought a bleak approach to a clergyman’s pastoral role.  In a sermon from the pulpit to the faithful it might have gone down well but as a national address, the tone was misplaced.  In self-imposed exile, privately Edward privately described the broadcast as “a vile and vindictive attack” and in his ghost-written memoirs (A King's Story (1951)), he accused the archbishop of “cruelty”.

Remembered also from the broadcast’s aftermath was a satirical verse printed in Punch by the novelist Gerald Bullett (1893–1958 (who published also under the pseudonym Sebastian Fox)).  Bullet’s included the words “how full of cant you are!”, using “cant” in the sense of “to speak in a manner speak in a hypocritical or insincere), an allusion to Lang signing his documents : “Cosmo Cantuar” (Cantuar the abbreviation for Cantuarium (Latin for Canterbury)):

“My Lord Archbishop, what a scold you are!
And when your man is down, how bold you are!
Of Christian charity how scant you are!
And, auld Lang swine, how full of cant you are!”