Odd Bacchus

Eating seasonally has come back into fashion, and there’s no reason we can’t drink seasonally as well. Certain cocktails are simply impossible to make at certain times of the year, making them taste all the sweeter when we can.

Right now, we’ve reached the peak season of blood oranges, also known as moros. These wonderful winter citrus fruits have some orange-colored cells as well as many deeply red cells, and their juice has a surprisingly bright magenta tinge. The peel may or may not also have a blush of red (don’t shy away from blood oranges with no hint of “blood” on their exterior).

Fresh-squeezed blood orange juice makes for a marvelous cocktail mixer, with a beautiful magenta color and a tart flavor that can substitute well for a number of other more common citrus fruits. Blood orange mimosas look gorgeous and taste great — add three parts Prosecco (my favorite), Cava or Champagne to a champagne flute, top with one part fresh-squeezed blood orange juice, and you’ve got a deep-pink (but deliciously dry and adult) drink sure to delight your brunch guests.

If, for some reason, you prefer to drink only in the evening, consider instead one of these simple, fresh and bloody recipes:

BLOODY MARGARITA:

–1 part fresh-squeezed blood orange juice

–1 part tequila (I used gold, but silver could also be tasty)

–1/2 part triple sec

To get the proportions right, squeeze the blood orange first. Whatever amount of juice you recover from the blood orange can be your standard “part”. Usually one blood orange provides enough juice for about one cocktail.

Combine all the ingredients in a shaker with ice. Shake vigorously and strain into a martini or margarita glass. Garnish with a twist if you like.

This light cocktail tastes tart, but the sweetness from the triple sec balanced it enough for my palate. The telltale flavor of the tequila still came through, and there was just a touch of bite from the blood orange.

BLOODY SIDECAR:

–1 part fresh-squeezed blood orange juice

–1 part Cognac

–1/4 to 1/3 part crème de cassis, to taste

Combine all the ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake vigorously and strain into a martini glass. Garnish with a twist if you like. Easy!

I liked this cocktail even a little better, though its color wasn’t quite as brilliant as the margarita’s. Again, it tasted sweet and tart, but the Cognac added an intriguing woodsy note, a little bite and a satisfying caramel finish. The crème de cassis, a French blackcurrant liqueur, adds additional sweetness and roundness to the drink.

Cheers!

With Mardi Gras fading into fatty, beaded memory, it’s time to take stock and think about a little self-sacrifice. This blog isn’t exactly known for its abstemiousness, so it may seem odd to come to Odd Bacchus for ideas about how to mark Lent. But even I try to respect the Lenten tradition of giving something up.

I have nothing but respect for those who give up sugar or Facebook or even alcohol, but most of us lack the self-control to achieve such a lofty goal. If you, like me, are not a paragon of self-restraint, set your sights just a little lower, and consider sacrificing one of the following instead:

Sour Mix: Many restaurants, bars and home bartenders use this fluorescent green concoction to make sugary sweet margaritas. Instead of this chemical brew of high-fructose corn syrup, artificial flavors and food coloring, try some fresh-squeezed limes and a dash of simple syrup instead. (Simple syrup is available in liquor stores, or make your own by  simmering one part water and one part sugar together.)

“Maraschino” Cherries: Speaking of food coloring… Give up the unnaturally bright red “maraschino” cherries you find atop sundaes. Instead, buy some true Maraschino cherries (also known as Marasca cherries), which are available on Amazon and in well-stocked liquor stores. Your Manhattan will thank you.

Old Vermouth: All too many of us home bartenders (myself included) have ancient bottles of crappy vermouth. Give them up! Pour them down the drain and recycle the bottles. A good vermouth can make a world of difference in your cocktail. Carpano Antica, a red vermouth, has lately taken the bartending world by storm, and it makes a mean Manhattan. Also watch out for Vya, which makes both red (sweet) and white (extra dry) vermouths. If you worry you won’t be able to use all of that relatively expensive vermouth before it spoils, you can always drink it straight.

Cheap Booze: Just because a wine or liquor is inexpensive doesn’t mean that it’s a good value. All too often, that $7 bottle of wine tastes like it should have cost about $3. Life is too short for that kind of nonsense. Give it up! In large amounts, alcohol is unhealthy, which means it should be both delicious and just a little expensive. Better to drink less of something really satisfying than glass after glass of plonk. Not all inexpensive wines are bad, of course — I’ve written about a number of decent wines that cost less than $15 (or even $10), but the good values in that price range usually require avoiding famous brands.

Your Go-To Drink: It’s easy to become a creature of habit and stick with what we know, buying the same brands of wine and ordering the same cocktails over and over again. Give it up! Try something new. Tell your (trusted) bartender or wine store clerk what you usually order, and ask for an interesting alternative to try. Who knows? Next year, you might have a new go-to drink to give up for Lent.

Taste is quite literally our most visceral sense, and tastes, like smells, can elicit surprisingly intense emotional reactions. I was reintroduced to the connection between tongue and emotions on my recent trip to Cognac, when I found myself startled by my own tears, standing before some equally startled French people.

During the grand tasting in the Museum of the Art of Cognac, I found my way to the Hine table, where I had the pleasure of meeting Cellar Master Eric Forget. He introduced me to their fresh, fruity and subtly spicy VSOP and their richer, more floral Rare VSOP, both of which were quite tasty.

Then we got to the Hine “Homage” Early Landed Fine Champagne Cognac, a blend of top-quality Cognacs from 1984, 1986 and 1987. For the Homage, Hine returned to a seldom-practiced centuries-old tradition of aging the Cognac in English caves, instead of in France. (English merchants used to purchase barrels of freshly distilled Cognac to age themselves.) Because of the different climate and cellar conditions, Early Landed Cognacs develop different flavor notes.

In this case, the heady floral aroma had me at first sniff. In my notebook, I wrote “so rich and smooth, but not heavy — absolutely delicious — yes!” That last word was a bit scribbled, because I had to quickly wipe the tears from my eyes so that my hosts didn’t see them. The exquisite flavor and the connection with tradition stirred something deep inside.

I recovered over a taste of the elegant Hine XO, but I completely lost control of myself when I sampled the gorgeous Hine Triomphe, a blend of Grande Champagne Cognacs averaging around 50 years old. So beautiful was this Cognac, with velvety caramel and tobacco flavors, the emotions welled up within me yet again, even more strongly. There was simply no hiding it. Monsieur Forget, seeing my reaction, quietly remarked, “It’s not a Cognac. It’s just a pleasure.”

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It may seem odd, at first glance, to see me discussing my tasting of Château Latour, Château Margaux, Château Cheval Blanc and Château Ausone on Odd Bacchus. After all, what are four of the world’s most famous and celebrated wines doing on a blog devoted to drinking the unusual? Well, I don’t know about you, but drinking wines that sell between $750 and $1,500 per bottle is certainly an unusual experience for me.

While visiting Bordeaux, I took advantage of Max, a wine bar filled with temperature-controlled cases of everything from basic Médoc to Premiers Grands Crus Classés. I put money on a card, inserted it into the case, and splash — I’m $40 poorer and 25 milliliters of Château Latour richer.

Château Latour is one of the four crus selected by the Bordeaux Chamber of Commerce as a Premier Cru (First Growth) in the landmark 1855 Classification, organized for that year’s Universal Exposition in Paris, where the best Bordeaux wines were showcased. As such, Latour, along with the other First Growths, became a benchmark of quality, and it remains so today.

Alone in the wine bar except for the staff and an Australian couple, I tasted my first First Growth sip beneath glimmering wine glasses cascading down from the ceiling. The brick-purple 2004 Château Latour ($975) smelled of jam and earth and metal, and the fruit was deep and rich. The finesse of the wine caused me to note, in a moment of unchecked romanticism, that the wine “doesn’t let it all hang out — it shows just enough to be thoroughly ravishing.” Oy — purple indeed.

My notes about the 2004 Château Margaux took a more sensible tone. Which is surprising, considering that The Sotheby’s Wine Encyclopedia calls this the “greatest” wine in the world, a distinction it’s apparently had for some time. According to The Oxford Companion to Wine, Thomas Jefferson cited Château Margaux as a vineyard of “first quality” in 1787. It better be, for $750 a bottle.

I did love the Margaux’s chocolate-raspberry nose, and its elegant, restrained palate. It didn’t seem especially big, but the fruit was unquestionably lush and supple. Cocoa made an appearance again in the long finish. I enjoyed it, but it was a tough, tannic wine, needing more age to open up.

The vineyards around St-Émilion, a historic village in the Bordeaux region to the east of the city, were not classified until 1958, and then only two achieved Premier Grand Cru Classé status. I had the chance to try them both.

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