Spirits

The Spirit Of The Moment: Mezcal

2 June 2016

The author in a Guanajuato cantina, consuming mezcal in as manly a fashion as possible

Just a couple of years ago, finding more than a handful of mezcals on a bar menu in the United States was rare indeed. Even Mexicans sometimes seem a bit scared of this spirit. I’ll never forget how, when I ordered a shot at a traditional cantina in Guanajuato (the kind with a urinal next to the bar), the bartender first offered me mezcal flavored with mango or coconut! He and my guide both raised an eyebrow when I requested the real stuff, though perhaps that says more about my distinctly gringo appearance and less about mezcal.

Gringos, however, have recently begun to take quite a liking to mezcal. In fact, as of March, Chicago’s Logan Square neighborhood now has an official mezcal bar, Mezcaleria Las Flores, which has some 78 mezcals on its menu (including related spirits like sotol and raicilla). Those who find that selection too restricting should head instead to Leña Brava, Rick Bayless’s newest restaurant, which stocks a remarkable 112 different mezcals!

The rather sudden rise of mezcal may leave some readers wondering what the heck it is and what all the fuss is about. Mezcal is a sort of parent to tequila. But unlike that ubiquitous spirit, which can be made only from blue agave, mezcal can be made from just about any agave cactus variety. In addition, the piña, the heart of the agave plant from which mezcal is fermented and distilled, is roasted underground for about three days, whereas the piñas used for tequila are baked, not roasted. If tequila is like bourbon, mezcal is like scotch.

I love it. The flavor typically starts with something fruity, fresh and/or herbaceous before it moves to some warm, smokey spice reminiscent of Hungarian paprika. Sometimes it feels rustic, sometimes it feels refined, but it’s always exciting to drink.

A Monteromero (foreground) and a Leña Fire at Leña Brava

Monteromero (foreground) and Leña Fire cocktails at Leña Brava

I consume mezcal most often neat, but like scotch, it can also work beautifully in certain cocktails. Leña Brava’s cocktail list contains seven mezcal-based drinks, for example, and on a visit last week, I had the chance to try two of them. I ordered a Monteromero, composed of Montelobos mezcal, crème de cassis, fresh lime juice, black pepper and a sprig of rosemary. What a delight — the complex, well-balanced cocktail combined sweet, smokey, herbaceous and citrusy flavors to great effect.

My friend Scott ordered a Leña Fire, a powerful combination of Leña Wahaka mezcal (the restaurant’s house mezcal), Ocho Sientos sotol (see my post about sotol here), Ancho Reyes chile liqueur, Yellow Chartreuse, Gran Torres orange liqueur and fresh lime. This veritable parade of high-proof spirits tasted bright, spicy, citrusy and very, very strong. A couple of sips was enough for me, but Scott had no trouble polishing it off. (Also see this post about a mezcal-based Negroni I had in Vienna a couple of years ago.)

Chef Bayless’s daughter, Lanie, acts as the restaurant’s mezcal sommelier, and she offered to pair glasses of mezcal with the five courses we had ordered. Fortunately, she anticipated our desire to leave the restaurant in a semi-coherent state and gave us half-size pours. Lanie knows her mezcals. Her suggestions were excellent, contrasting or emphasizing flavors in various dishes, just as well-considered wine pairings do.

Tasting the mezcals in rapid succession highlighted their distinct characters. The Vago mezcal had a lovely freshness to it, with a sweet cucumber note balancing the ample paprika spice. But the Wahaka Reposado Con Gusano (aged six months in oak barrels) tasted richer and rounder, with something of a mocha note under the spicy heat. “Con Gusano,” incidentally, means that the bottle has a worm in it. Adding an agave worm is “…a proven, age-old method for clarifying the radicals of the barrel while balancing the spirit’s overall flavor with notes of earth and salt,” according to Wahaka’s website.

Words like “spicy heat” and “worm” may make mezcal sound intimidating. But if you give it a try, I suspect you’ll be pleasantly surprised. I find it much more interesting than tequila, and its quality-to-price ratio is very much in the consumer’s favor. More and more bars carry it — if you see it on a spirits list, I highly recommend ordering a shot to pair with a cool appetizer or with a creamy or chocolatey dessert. And if you already like scotch, mezcal is an ideal summer alternative.

Legui: Argentina’s Best Digestif

24 April 2016

La Esquina de MertiAfter traveling in Argentina for a week or so, finding luscious Malbecs seemingly on every street corner, I began to wonder what sort of liquors the country produced. It was around this time I found myself in the town of San Antonio de Areco, a center of gaucho culture about 90 minutes northwest of Buenos Aires. This town did not strike me as a place to order a glass of wine.

I strode into an atmospheric bar called La Esquina de Merti, with art nouveau display cases along the walls and shelves laden with ancient bottles of unfamiliar spirits. It probably would have felt touristy in another town, but here, it was exactly what I was looking for.

Behind the bar, I spotted a shelf of local-looking spirits. “Esta licores — esta licores Argentinos?” I asked in my not-very-good Spanish. “Que me recomienda… una licores Argentinos?” The bartender looked a little puzzled. I pointed to a promising-looking bottle. “Esta Legui… Esta bien? Recomienda esta?” She said something that sounded very positive. “Bien. Uh, bebida esta con hielo? No? Solo? OK — perfecto. Una Legui, porfavor.”

LeguiShe somehow managed to understand me and served me quite a large shot of Legui, which is named after a notable jockey, Irenaeus Leguizamo. He won, according to this website, some 3,200 races in Argentina and he ranks among the greatest jockeys in history. Legui, it turned out, was the perfect drink to try in this center of Argentine horse culture.

I took a sniff, and I can’t deny that I recoiled. This liqueur of herb-infused alcohol and sugar reminded me of cough syrup, a certain yellow cough syrup that disgusted me in my youth. And indeed, it had the same yellow-green hue. I might charitably describe the aroma as herbaceous and bitter, with a note of anise. With great reluctance, I took a sip.

The Legui started sweet, moving on to cinnamon spice and green peppercorn. There was little bitterness; in fact, it tasted quite balanced. And because it has only 29.9 percent alcohol, I felt little alcoholic burn. Indeed, drinking it felt quite soothing.

If, after dinner in Argentina, you’re looking for a digestif — and after the uninterrupted meat parade I’ve experienced here, I certainly was — Legui is the liqueur to order. It doesn’t seem to be available in the United States, according to Wine Searcher, but in Argentina, it’s certainly worth seeking out.

And don’t worry about trying to down it like a shot. The cowboys here wear berets, after all, so you can feel free to drink your Legui in civilized sips.

Cocktails In Belize

12 March 2016
A "Spicy Mayan" cocktail at Belcampo Belize

A “Spicy Mayan” cocktail at Belcampo Belize

I must admit that I didn’t expect to enjoy much fine drinking in Belize. I knew the country made rum, and, for better or worse, cashew wine, but that certainly wasn’t the reason I visited. What drew me was the uncrowded Mayan ruins and sensational snorkeling. I didn’t have hopes of finding unique craft cocktails in remote jungle lodges.

Nevertheless, there they were:

SPICY MAYAN

My first stop in the country was Belcampo Belize, a jungle lodge near the coast with a very creative barman, Tim. He created the best thing I drink in all of Belize, the “Spicy Mayan.” Fortunately, Tim put a lot more thought into the cocktail itself than he did the name. I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.

First, he muddled some fresh allspice leaves in a shaker, releasing their oils. Ancient Mayans, a guide told me, used to chew allspice leaves in order to numb their mouths before dentists embellished their teeth with jade dots or performed other dental procedures. I tried chewing an allspice leaf, and while I did notice a numbing sensation, the leaf did not strike me as an adequate substitute for Novocaine. As a nibbled the leaf, my guide said something insane about ancient Mayans using molten jade to decorate their teeth, and I took a moment to heartily thank God for modern dentistry. But I digress.

Tim muddled several allspice leaves, shaking them with a mix of white rum, lime, simple syrup and Casa Mascia Apothecary Culantro Elixir, a liqueur made from cilantro’s wild cousin. The result, served over ice and garnished with an allspice leaf, had an inviting aroma of cilantro. Sour, sweet and herbaceous flavors balanced each other beautifully, and the slight numbing sensation of the allspice enhanced the cocktail’s general feeling of freshness. This drink, in short, was absolutely superb.

Watermelon Smash at Belcampo Belize

WATERMELON SMASH

While staying at Belcampo Belize, I also tried a delightful Watermelon Smash. Fresh watermelon, I find, makes a delicious and versatile mixer, and I would love to see it used more often in U.S. cocktail bars. In this drink, it was combined with bourbon, fresh lime juice, mint and Peychaud’s Bitters. It was sweet, a little tart, and far too easy to drink. I rather loved it.

Planters Punch at Victoria House

PLANTER’S PUNCH

My lunch at Victoria House, one of the most highly regarded properties on Ambergris Caye, was not a success. The seared grouper had obviously emerged straight from the freezer, not the sea, which is unconscionable considering that countless numbers of the fish swim along the reef within sight of the hotel. I played dumb and asked my waiter where the Victoria House got its grouper. Pointing to the ocean, he exclaimed, “Right there!” But he gave the game away when he continued, “We get it from local fishermen every Tuesday and Thursday.” (I dined there on a Sunday.)

Fortunately, my Planter’s Punch tasted much better than the bland, gummy fish on my plate. The bartender modified the standard recipe a bit, using both white and dark rum instead of just dark, and omitting the grenadine. I didn’t miss it, however. The drink tasted of pineapple tinged with a hint of molasses, and though it was fruity, it didn’t feel overly sweet. It was a pleasure to sip it as the palms along the beach swayed in the breeze.

Edward the Cucumber at Ka'ana

EDWARD THE CUCUMBER

The photo above makes this unusually named cocktail look like something sent from heaven, but this drink was more of a taste of purgatory. I ordered it at Ka’ana, a jungle resort near the ancient Mayan city of Xunantunich. It sounded perfectly lovely; the menu described it as a fairly straightforward mix of vodka, cucumber, mint, lime and ginger. But what should have been refreshing, cool and complex tasted almost unbearably tart, and when that flavor had finished bashing in my palate, some overbearing ginger spice gave it an extra kick for good measure.

My waitress confided that very few people actually like the drink. Who would? But why Edward the Cucumber continues to dishonor the menu with his presence remains a mystery.

Hibiscus Daiquiri at Ka'ana

HIBISCUS DAIQUIRI

Ka’ana’s bartender redeemed himself the next night with this cocktail, an attractive Hibiscus Daiquiri. A standard Daiquiri is one of the simplest and loveliest of cocktails, a perfect mix of rum, fresh lime juice and simple syrup. Here, the bartender steeped fresh hibiscus flowers in hot water and used the resulting infusion to make the simple syrup. The drink tasted tart and sweetly rummy, as it should, and just a touch floral. Delicious.

Belize, it turns out, isn’t just good for ancient cities hidden in the jungle, or eye-popping coral reefs inhabited by purple sea fans, acid-green eels and turquoise parrot fish. The compact country has more than its fair share of bartenders mixing up superlative cocktails. And there’s something especially wonderful about sipping something as civilized as a well-crafted cocktail while surrounded by unspoiled nature.

The Best Things I Drank In 2015: Spirits & Cocktails

7 January 2016

Xoriguer Gin & Lemon in MenorcaAt this time of the year, it seems to be the thing to make “Top ____ of 2015″ lists. I love a good list, and making a few myself has given me the chance to reflect on the past year. I certainly did not go thirsty.

Posts about spirits and cocktails are some of my most popular, and with good reason. The world of spirits has never been more exciting, with fine craft distilleries popping up all over the place. Cocktails, too, have experienced a major renaissance, as bartenders resurrect beautiful classic drinks and mix new concoctions with a creative energy not seen in half a century.

Nor are these trends confined to the United States, as you can see from the short list below. How fortunate, to have been able to experience such an array of delicious drinks in such a variety of memorable bars!

Here are the best spirits and cocktails I drank 2015, in alphabetical order:

 

Adlerbrennerei Wildhimbeergeist

ADLERBRENNEREI M. PIRCHER WALDHIMBEERGEIST

The Adler distillery, in a small town a little north of Nuremberg, Germany, produced this delightful Obstbrand (fruit brandy) from wild raspberries. The words “fruit brandy” don’t necessarily inspire confidence, but nowadays, Germany boasts quite a few distilleries dedicated to producing high-quality small-batch spirits from a range of gorgeous local fruits.

I tried this example neat (as is traditional) in the clubby bar of Berlin’s Regent hotel. It smelled like creamy raspberries, and it had a remarkably smooth texture, with very little roughness or burn in spite of its alcoholic strength. I loved its warm and fruity character, light texture and spicy finish.

 

Brennerei Rochelt Williamsbirne

BRENNEREI ROCHELT WILLIAMSBIRNE

I couldn’t help but put another Obstbrand on this list, and honestly, there are two or three others that I would have added if space permitted. If you find yourself in Germany or Austria (or in a particularly well-stocked liquor store), seek out high-quality Obstbrand. It rewards the effort and then some.

This example, made by the Rochelt distillery in Austria’s Tyrol region, clocked in at a high 50% alcohol. Even so, the nose smelled of Williamsbirne (Poire William, or Bartlett pear), not booze. I can’t deny that the first taste knocked my socks off — the alcohol hit a little hard — but on the second try, with my palate properly primed, it tasted far more balanced.

Ripe pear flavor filled every nook and cranny of my mouth, and it kept developing and changing from there, moving from ripe fruit to pear skin to focused spice to alcoholic heat.

Sipped at Berlin’s Hotel de Rome, this exquisite digestive wasn’t inexpensive at €40 a glass — fortunately a food-and-beverage credit covered the charge — but my word, it was certainly memorable.

 

BUDDHA’S HAND DAIQUIRI

I came up with this cocktail myself, and it proved to be one of my all-time favorite inventions. The recipe is easy, as long as you can find a Buddha’s hand, a seductively fragrant alien-shaped citron in season for about two weeks each year.

First, prepare some Buddha’s hand simple syrup: Zest about half a large Buddha’s hand (being careful to avoid the pith) and muddle the peel with a cup of sugar, which helps release the fragrant oils in the rind. After letting it sit for a bit, mix the sugar and zest with a cup of water and heat on the stove, dissolving the sugar and extracting additional flavor from the zest. Once it cools, strain the mixture to remove the peel and store the contents in a little jar in the refrigerator. It keeps for about a month.

With the syrup prepared, keep to a traditional daiquiri recipe, mixing two parts rum (either white or aged can work, depending on if you prefer a fresher or mellower flavor), one part fresh-squeezed lime juice and a half-part simple syrup.

The Buddha’s hand simple syrup makes for an exceptional lime daiquiri, adding a floral note to the tart citrus and round molasses sweetness of the rum.

 

Cocktail at Vina Vik

COCKTAIL OF THE DAY AT VIÑA VIK

As you might guess from the name of this hotel, Viña Vik is far better known for its wine than its cocktails. But this design-heavy resort in Chile delighted me with its “cocktail of the day” the last evening of my stay.

As far as I know, it didn’t have an official name, but this drink certainly deserves some sort of title. The mix of vodka, Aperol, fresh watermelon juice, fresh lemon juice and fresh ginger tasted refreshing, complex and beautifully balanced. In a high-wire act of mixology, the sweet watermelon, tart lemon, bitter Aperol and spicy ginger worked together with impressive grace.

 

Bartender Tila at Nanuku in Fiji

Tila bleaching hibiscus blossoms

HIBISCUS BLEACH

Tila, the vivacious bartender at Nanuku, a resort in Fiji, made this rather distressingly named cocktail for me. “Tila Tequila,” as she is affectionately known, did indeed bleach five hibiscus blossoms in the course of making this drink, draining them of color as she steeped them in hot water. This fresh hibiscus tea, when combined with honey, fresh lime juice and Fijian Bounty Overproof Rum, makes for a powerful Hurricane-like cocktail. But what a difference from the sickly-sweet concoctions people carry around in plastic cups in New Orleans! You can see the full recipe here.

 

Rum House

Rum Old Fashioned (right)

RUM OLD FASHIONED AT THE RUM HOUSE

Fans of the film “Birdman” will recognize The Rum House as the Manhattan bar in which Riggan confronted the drama critic. We visited on a Saturday afternoon at about 5 p.m. and had no trouble getting a table, which felt like a mini-miracle in a neighborhood thronged with theater patrons. I loved the buzzing-but-cozy atmosphere, and the drinks we ordered were beyond reproach.

In particular, my Rum Old Fashioned, though unorthodox, worked absolutely beautifully. It moved from molasses sweetness to an appealingly bitter and spicy finish.

 

Up next: The Best White and Sparkling Wines of 2015

Postcard From Fiji: The Hibiscus Bleach

8 August 2015

Bartender Tila at Nanuku in FijiI asked the Nanuku resort’s bartender, Tila (affectionately known as “Tila Tequila”) to repeat the name of the cocktail she was making for me. “Hibiscus Bleach,” she said again.

Still unwilling to believe I was about to drink a cocktail with the word “bleach” in the name, I ventured, “Hibiscus Beach?”

“Bleach,” she responded, with impeccable diction and infinite patience (she’s Fijian, after all). Hibiscus Bleach it was, and there was no getting around it. I watched intently as she prepared the drink, partially in hopes that it would make for a good blog post and mostly to reassure myself that none of the ingredients could be used as cleaning products.

“Start with four or five hibiscus flowers,” she explained, “and remove the insides.” She plucked out the pistils and stamens, stuffed the remaining petals in a large beaker and poured hot water over them. As the flowers steeped, she squeezed a lime and measured out some honey. It didn’t take long for the water to turn a deep pink.

Hibiscus BleachHere’s where things got interesting. When Tila removed the flowers, they had lost nearly all their color — the petals had turned white with only veins of pink remaining. I relaxed as I finally understood the name of the cocktail. She added the lime juice to the fresh hibiscus tea, and in rather spectacular fashion, it changed from purplish pink to almost fuchsia. I usually resort to flames if I want to dazzle guests with a cocktail, but this presentation felt just as impressive as a flambée.

Mixed with honey, the alcohol-free concoction tasted delightful. It was tart and sweet, with a note of strawberry to it. It’s a delightful mocktail to serve guests who don’t drink. Mixed with two shots of dark Fijian rum, it became a powerful Hurricane-like cocktail with an undeniable sense of place.

I sipped my Hibiscus Bleach in the resort’s open-air bar beneath a cascade of mother-of-pearl shells hanging from the ceiling, accompanied by a guitar-and-ukulele men’s quartet singing in harmony, and in that moment, I couldn’t imagine anything more delicious.

HIBISCUS BLEACH

–Five fresh hibiscus flowers (or dried hibiscus tea)

–Hot water

–Juice of one lime (do not use bottled juice)

–1 tablespoon honey

–High-proof dark rum (Fijian Bounty Overproof Rum is 116 proof)

The author with his new favorite bartender, Tila

The author with his new favorite bartender, Tila

Five fresh flowers yield enough for about two cocktails. If you’re not someplace where hibiscus bushes grow like weeds, substitute hibiscus tea instead. Make it strong, using one tea bag per cocktail. Remove the stamens and pistils of the flowers, and pour three cups of hot water over the petals (or tea bags).

Meanwhile, juice one lime. After you’ve let the hibiscus steep for a minute or two, remove the flowers or tea bags and add the lime juice and honey. Mix well. Pour over two lowball glasses filled with ice (use larger cubes for a stronger cocktail), and top with a shot (or two, if you’re on vacation) of high-proof dark rum. Give the drink a brief stir, and garnish if you like with a lime wedge and a hibiscus petal.

It’s Fiji in a glass.

Top Spirits & Cocktails Of 2014

26 December 2014
A fresh and herbaceous Savant Sour at Chicago's CH Distillery

A fresh and herbaceous Savant Sour at Chicago’s CH Distillery

At this time of the year, it seems to be the thing to make “Top ____ of 2014″ lists. I love a good list, and making one myself has given me the chance to reflect a bit on the past year. I did not go thirsty.

Posts about spirits and cocktails are some of my most popular, and with good reason. The world of spirits has never been more exciting in this country, with fine craft distilleries popping up all over the place. Cocktails, too, have experienced a major renaissance, as bartenders resurrect beautiful classic drinks and mix new concoctions with a creative energy not seen in half a century.

What luck, to experience this spirits and cocktail revolution first hand! I had quite a few memorable drinks in 2014, and here are my very favorites, in alphabetical order:

 

Clover ClubCLOVER CLUB

Set in a brick arch beneath some railway tracks north of Vienna’s Altstadt stands one of the finest cocktail bars in the Austro-Hungarian Empire: Halbestadt. Proprietors Erich and Konny focus on classic cocktails, including many almost-forgotten gems popular in the 30s, 40s and 50s. But they also stock the largest selection of mezcal in Vienna, and they’re not afraid to use it to create some truly unusual and cutting-edge cocktails.

Erich made me a stupendous Mezcal Negroni, as well as a delightful Clover Club (above). This little-known cocktail pre-dates Prohibition, if Wikipedia is to be believed, and it’s high time this delicious drink of raspberry, lemon, sugar, egg white and gin had a revival. Erich and Konny use only fresh fruit in their cocktails, ensuring that there was nothing cloying or artificial-tasting about this Clover Club. It was tart and fruity, with a bit of juniper from the gin. What a beautifully balanced cocktail.

 

Corozo 75 at Carmen in Cartagena

COROZO 75

One of my favorite Colombian fruits is the corozo, a red berry which on its own tastes somewhere between a blackberry and a cranberry. I tried it in a couple of cocktails during my trip there, and the most successful by far was the Corozo 75 at the estimable Carmen Restaurant in the Hotel Anandá in Cartagena. What a revelation.

This cocktail, composed of corozo-infused gin, corozo syrup and Chandon Rosé sparkling wine, tasted remarkably round and rich. The berry fruit felt deep, and yet the cocktail maintained an excellent balance, with lightness of texture from the Chandon and a floral note on top.

 

Lulo MartiniLULO MARTINI

I sat down at the stylish El Coro bar in Cartagena’s Sofitel Santa Clara and asked the energetic bartender, Jhon, if he
could make me something with local ingredients. He had just the thing: a Lulo Martini.

He mixed fresh lulo juice, which tastes rather like lemon and orange juice mixed together, with aguardiente and a touch of simple syrup. He shook up the concoction, used a straw to taste for balance (the conscientious bartenders checked just about every cocktail for balance), and presented the cocktail to me in a chilled martini glass.

It did indeed exhibit excellent balance, with a smooth, juicy texture. The anise overtones from the aguardiente were kept in check by the creamy citrus of the lulo and sugar.

 

Pink Pigeon RumPINK PIGEON RUM

Pink Pigeon Rum comes from the molasses of sugarcane grown in the volcanic soil of the Medine Estate on the island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean. The distillery uses its rum as a “canvas” for infusions, adding vanilla from Madagascar and Réunion, citrus and the “floral petals of vanilla orchids.”

Though it tasted a bit unbalanced neat, Pink Pigeon soared like an eagle when mixed into cocktails. I made a classic Daiquiri and a traditional Mojito, and they were absolutely splendid. Both drinks include fresh lime, which, when combined with the powerful vanilla notes of the rum, gave the cocktails an enticing Dreamsicle-like quality. The Pink Pigeon Daiquiri and Mojito were simply two of the best versions of those cocktails I’ve ever had.

 

Hacienda de Chihuahua Anejo SotolHACIENDA DE CHIHUAHUA AÑEJO SOTOL

Before traveling to Guadalajara, Mexico, I had never even heard of sotol, a sister spirit to mezcal and tequila. It comes primarily from the desert spoon agave (Dasylirion wheeleri), though according to the menu of La Tequila bar in Guadalajara, other varieties can be included as well. Each desert spoon agave takes about 15 years to mature, and each plant yields only one bottle of sotol. So it’s no surprise that shelves in liquor stores aren’t overflowing with the stuff (blue agave plants can yield up to 10 bottles of tequila or even more).

I tried a Hacienda de Chihuahua Añejo sotol (like tequila, añejo sotol must be aged at least one year in oak), and it was a delight. A light green-gold color, it looked like it could have been a Sauvignon Blanc. The lovely vanilla aroma along with notes of smoked paprika indicated otherwise, however! When I took a sip, I thought it was going to hit me with a bang, but it proved to be quite smooth. The sotol started lush and rich, with some sweet flavors that slowly developed into gentle smoke and red-pepper spice flavors.  Very elegant, and surprisingly easy to drink neat.

 

They Call it Duck a lOrangeTHEY CALL IT DUCK A L’ORANGE

Served at The Drawing Room in Chicago, this cocktail tastes, oddly enough, almost exactly like it sounds. It combines Cointreau Noir, Peychaud’s Bitters, and “scotch washed in duck fat,” according to head bartender Azrhiel Frost. I have absolutely no idea how she and fellow head bartender Will Patton came up with the idea for this recipe, but it worked astonishingly well. It had a pleasantly dusky orange aroma, and complex sweet, bitter and citrusy flavors. I could taste the duck, but it was a well-integrated savory undertone, rather than an aggressively meaty flavor.

If you want to try this cocktail, head to The Drawing Room before the end of the year. This excellent basement bar recently lost its lease. The Urban Outfitters store above it wants to run an elevator through the beautiful space and use the rest of it for storage. What a scandal. I think this calls for an Urban Outfitters boycott.

Flying High With Pink Pigeon

27 September 2014

Pink Pigeon RumRum ranks among my very favorite spirits. The best rums, such as Guatemala’s Ron Zacapa Sistema Solera 23 and Nicaragua’s Flor de Caña 12-Year Centenario, sip as elegantly as fine cognac or whiskey. And what a wonderful base for cocktails! Rum’s sweetness balances beautifully with the acidity of citrus or the sharp spice of ginger.

Most rums I encounter come from countries in Central America and the Caribbean, which have plenty of local molasses and sugarcane juice ready to be distilled. How could I resist, then, a rum from exotic Mauritius? This tropical speck lies well to the east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean, and until recently, I associated the island mostly with extravagantly sybaritic resorts. It never occurred to me that it might have a talented distiller or two, until I received a free sample bottle of Pink Pigeon Rum from Wine Chateau.

Pink Pigeon Rum comes from the molasses of sugarcane grown in the “fertile volcanic soil” of the Medine Estate on Mauritius, and according to Pink Pigeon’s website, the Medine Distillery is the oldest on the island, dating back to 1926. Because the surgarcane is grown on the estate, and the molasses is distilled on the estate, and the resulting rum is bottled on the estate, Pink Pigeon Rum certainly qualifies as a “single-estate rum,” as the website attests.

Even so, those looking for a taste of Mauritian terroir might have to look elsewhere. Pink Pigeon uses its rum as a “canvas” for infusions, adding vanilla from Madagascar and Réunion, citrus and the “floral petals of vanilla orchids.” The rum may be single-estate, but the infusions come from two other islands entirely. I would be curious just to taste the rum on its own, without the infusions.

The infusions, however, certainly make Pink Pigeon Rum unique. I tried it first at room temperature, at which it has enticing aromas of vanilla cake, candied orange and tropical fruits. It felt syrupy on the palate, but the alcohol (80 proof) cut through the vanilla- and molasses-tinged sweetness. I sampled the rum after it spent a day in the freezer as well, and when tasted ice-cold, both the syrupy texture and the sharpness of the alcohol felt surprisingly heightened.

Though it tasted a bit unbalanced neat, the Pink Pigeon soared like an eagle when mixed into cocktails. I made a classic Daiquiri and a traditional Mojito, and they were absolutely splendid. Both drinks include fresh lime, which, when combined with the powerful vanilla notes of the rum, gave the cocktails a delightful Dreamsicle-like quality. The Pink Pigeon Daiquiri and Mojito were simply two of the best versions of those cocktails I’ve ever had.

PINK PIGEON DAIQUIRI

–2 parts Pink Pigeon Rum

–1 part fresh-squeezed lime juice

–1 very small splash of simple syrup (1 part sugar dissolved in 1 part water, also available in bottles at liquor stores)

As always, fresh lime juice is important — do not substitute bottled, which tastes quite different. Combine all of the above ingredients in a shaker. If you don’t have simple syrup, just add a small pinch of sugar to the lime juice and rum before you add the ice, and stir to dissolve. Add some ice, shake, and strain into a lowball or martini glass.

Ordinarily you would use more simple syrup in a Daiquiri, one of the simplest and best rum-based cocktails, but because Pink Pigeon already tastes sweet, only a touch of additional sugar is necessary to balance the tartness of the lime. The resulting drink tastes refreshing and citrusy, with a wonderful additional layer of flavor from the vanilla.

Pink Pigeon MojitoPINK PIGEON MOJITO

–2 parts Pink Pigeon Rum

–1 1/2 parts fresh-squeezed lime juice

–6 or 7 fresh mint leaves

–1 small pinch of sugar

–4 parts club soda

Wash the mint, but don’t pat it dry. Add the mint and the sugar to a highball glass, and muddle with a spoon. You’ll bruise the mint, ensuring that its flavorful oils will be released into the cocktail, and the sugar will dissolve into the bit of water clinging to the mint. Add a few cubes of ice, the rum and the lime juice, and stir. Top off with club soda, give the cocktail one final stir, and if you like, garnish with the top of a mint sprig.

What a lovely, refreshing and well-balanced cocktail! Again, the lime and Pink Pigeon combine to create a Dreamsicle-like flavor, leavened this time with the bubbles of the soda and the coolness of the mint. A delicious twist on a classic.

I received my bottle of Pink Pigeon as a free sample, but it’s not all that expensive to buy. You can find it at Wine Chateau or Binny’s, for example, for about $30 a bottle. If you’re a fan of Daiquiris or Mojitos, Pink Pigeon definitely deserves a place in your liquor cabinet.

Postcard From Mexico – Sotol

9 August 2014

Hacienda de Chihuahua Anejo SotolFew drinkers are unfamiliar with tequila, that famous Mexican spirit distilled from blue agave which makes its way into margaritas and tequila sunrises. Smoky mezcal, which can be distilled from a range of different agave species, has also become relatively famous in recent years. I even had a delicious Negroni in faraway Vienna recently, in which the creative mixologist had replaced the gin with mezcal. But I had certainly never heard of sotol, a sister spirit to mezcal and tequila.

Sotol comes primarily from the desert spoon agave (Dasylirion wheeleri), though according to the menu of La Tequila in Guadalajara, other varieties such as duranguensis, palmeri and acrotiche agave can be included as well. Each desert spoon agave takes about 15 years to mature, if Wikipedia is to be believed, and each plant yields only one bottle of sotol. So it’s no surprise that shelves in liquor stores aren’t overflowing with the stuff (blue agave plants can yield up to 10 bottles of tequila or even more).

Because sotol is produced in a manner similar to mezcal — smoking the hearts of the agave plants in an open pit and then fermenting the juice before distillation — there are similarities in flavor. The desert spoon agave, however, makes sotol unique in the same way that blue agave gives tequila its own special flavor.

I tried a Hacienda de Chihuahua Añejo (like tequila, añejo sotol must be aged at least one year in oak), and it was a delight. A light green-gold color, it looked like it could have been a Sauvignon Blanc. The lovely vanilla aroma along with notes of smoked paprika indicated otherwise, however! When I took a sip, I thought it was going to hit me with a bang, but it proved to be quite smooth. The sotol started lush and rich, with some sweet flavors that slowly developed into gentle smoke and red-pepper spice flavors.  Very elegant, and surprisingly easy to drink neat.

Sotol comes from the northern Mexican states of Chihuahua, Coahuila and Durango, but bottles filter down to specialty bars such as La Tequila, and I found at least one or two shops in the U.S. offering bottles. But it’s rare, so if you do happen to see a bottle, don’t miss the chance to snap it up.

Encounters With Unicum

5 July 2014

UnicumI figured at some point during my stay in Hungary it would rear its head, but I was quite taken aback to be offered a shot of Unicum Zwack at 10:00 a.m., right at the beginning of my food tour of Budapest. Unicum is not my preferred morning beverage. I held the glass with equal measures of trepidation and resignation.

I first encountered Unicum in Budapest in February of 1999, where I bought a bottle having no idea of the nature of its contents. Even then, unusual wines and spirits interested me. I brought the distinctively spherical bottle home and tried a glass after dinner with my parents. It reminded me too much of bitter, cloying Jägermeister for me to drink more than half a shot. My mother quite enjoyed it, however, and I recall she kept the bottle on her nightstand for a time, taking a medicinal sip before bed.

And indeed, Unicum started out as a health tonic, created by Dr. Zwack, physician to the Habsburg Imperial Court, “to alleviate the royal family’s digestion problems,” according to Food, Wine, Budapest by Carolyn Bánfalvi. It increased in popularity until World War II, when the factory was destroyed. The Zwack family rebuilt it, just in time to have it expropriated by the communists in 1948. “Péter Zwack returned to Hungary in 1989 to rebuild the family business,” Food, Wine, Budapest goes on to say, “and he was among the first in Hungary to buy back a business from the government.”

Since then, Unicum once again has been produced with the true recipe (the communists had a fake), which involves a secret (of course) blend of some 40 herbs and spices. Or maybe more.

Which brings us to the present, with me holding a glass of the stuff at 10:00 a.m., having eaten nothing but some runny scrambled eggs and a paprika-spiked breakfast link. I hoped that the rumors of digestive benefits were true, and gingerly took a sip. And hey, it wasn’t so bad after all! Yes, it tasted bitter and felt syrupy, just like Jäger, but it tasted spicier and more citrusy. Indeed, it almost felt balanced. Despite the early hour and the dubious contents of my stomach, I happily downed the rest of the shot.

Sza-Szi at the Four Seasons

Sza-Szi at the Four Seasons Gresham Palace

Aware that its flavor won’t appeal to everyone, Unicum has recently come up with two alternative versions of the spirit which don’t taste as bitter. I didn’t try either one on its own, but I did discover that a daring mixologist at the Four Seasons Gresham Palace had created a cocktail showcasing Unicum Szilva (Plum). How could I resist?

A mix of Unicum Szilva, plum pálinka (a plum brandy with a grappa-like mouthfeel) and lime, the Sza-Szi cocktail tasted very purple and dusky, but citrusy notes from the lime somehow managed to keep things balanced. It’s not a cocktail that will appeal to die-hard Manhattan or dry Martini drinkers, but I had no qualms about finishing it off. If you find yourself in Budapest, by all means order one. The bar is spectacular, and you’ll be drinking something you won’t find on any other cocktail menu in the world.

In the meantime, you can find Unicum Zwack at certain large wine and spirits stores in the United States, like Binny’s, where it’s labeled simply “Zwack.” I wouldn’t be surprised to see a bottle on my own nightstand sometime soon — for medicinal purposes only, of course.

Postcard From Colombia #3

21 February 2014

Lulo MartiniColombia is not best known for its corozo-based cocktails, but its aguardiente. This clear spirit distilled from sugarcane has a delightful anise flavor, and it resembles a less cloying and less alcoholic ouzo, with a smooth spiciness. I quite like it neat. Look for aguardiente without added sugar.

Aguardiente makes a fine cocktail base, especially in the sure hands of the bartenders at El Coro in the Sofitel Santa Clara. Although the cocktail menu there is extensive, I wanted to try something specifically Colombian. The energetic bartender Jhon had just the thing: a Lulo Martini.

He mixed fresh lulo juice, which tastes rather like lemon and orange juice mixed together, with aguardiente and a touch of simple syrup. He shook up the concoction, used a straw to taste for balance (the bartenders checked just about every cocktail for balance), and presented the cocktail to me in a chilled martini glass.

It did indeed exhibit excellent balance, with a smooth, juicy texture. The anise overtones from the aguardiente were kept well in check by the creamy citrus of the lulo and sugar.

Hmm… I wonder how much trouble I would get in if I tried to smuggle a suitcase full of fresh lulos home with me?

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