things which are not distilled

Just got back from the beer release party at the Blind Pig Brewery, apparently the first brewery to operate in Champaign since Prohibition.  Totally awesome.  Had previously had arguments with their brewmaster re: Sierra Nevada, terribleness of (seriously, awful beer).  All forgiven.  Kölsch, Hefeweizen, IPA, Cider.  Delicious.  So happy that town now has a brewery and I can die of beer overdose.  Tomorrow (I hope): English Bitter, Belgian Pale, Weizen Bock, Oatmeal Stout.

Send help and fried things.

selling out and the carlos slim

Mistakenly thinking that I have a big enough audience to warrant courting, a marketer recently sent me some Cabo Wabo Reposado (warning: annoying site music) and Campari (the website is to enable Campari drinkers to share “red passion” with each other, which sounds like a terrible euphemism: seriously, guys, think) to review.  The Cabo Wabo makes sense – reviewing posts, I realize that I write about and mix with tequila a lot, and, with the Cabo Wabo, I have six bottles of tequila/mezcal, far outnumbering any other base spirit.  Weird.  The Campari is less easily explicable, since I am pretty sure everyone in the world has tasted it by now.  So I’ll save time and review the Campari right now: it tasted exactly like it always does.  Bitter, grapefruit, a little spicy, slightly too syrupy, but, you know, good.

First off, I would like to congratulate Cabo Wabo’s marketing directors on classing up their bottles, although Cabo Wabo has never been a top offender in the tequila bottle category.  The original (top) reminded everyone that Cabo Wabo was owned by Sammy Hagar, a fact that did not scream “quality tequila” (although Hagar himself screams many things).  After acquiring an ownership share in the distillery, Gruppo Campari has tried to class up the brand, something I appreciate if I’m going to have a bottle of the stuff hanging around.  The new one goes a little too far in the bachelor-pad direction, but it’s a start.  Beggars can’t, after all, be choosers.  Oh, but that silly wooden-top/cork-stopper thing came apart the very first time I opened the bottle.  Pull it together, Cabo Wabo!

Nevertheless, the extra class is, in fact, is a good thing, since the tequila itself is perfectly decent.  It’s a fairly expensive tequila, but it compared well enough to both the El Tesoro don Felipe (the NYT’s pick, in fact) and the Tequila Chamucos that I have been mixing with for the last couple months, both of which fall into that general price range.  It’s less assertive than the El Tesoro, with more citrus and tropical fruit, and less smoke and salt.  It’s more or less similar to the Chamucos, but in a blind testing the girlfriend and I found that we actually preferred the Cabo Wabo by a hair.  I expect the difference would disappear when mixing.

The Cabo Wabo will go fine in any tequila-based drink you like.  Recently, I tried it in a tequila-variation on a Jack Rose, made to test out my new, homemade grenadine (using the hot process method).  The cocktail turned out very well, mostly, I believe, due to my new grenadine.  But, you know, the tequila was good, too.

Carlos Slim

• 2 oz reposado tequila (in this case I used Cabo Wabo, but don’t stress about it)
• 3/4-1 oz lime juice (just use the juice of a whole lime)
• 1/4-1/2 oz grenadine (homemade; if not, Stirrings is not too bad, but not very colorful)
  Shake all ingredients over ice, strain into a cocktail glass.  Garnish with a homemade cocktail cherry.

As far as I know, I have no justification for calling this a Carlos Slim besides the whole “name a drink made with tequila after something to do with Mexico” thing (cultural caricaturization much?).  But ever since I read the New Yorker article on the guy, I’ve had his name in the back of my mind.  Carlos Slim?  Is that a name that begs to be made into a cocktail, or isn’t it?  Amiright?  Of course I am.

Anyway, final verdict?  Seems like a decent enough tequila.  The $50 price tag (Binny’s has it for less, actually) is a little steep for something associated with Sammy Hagar’s nightclub, but not eyepoppingly unreasonable.  It’s actually a shame that it’s tarred with that brush, since with a slightly less silly name, this one could be a contender.  Which seems to be the marketing plan, so, you know, give it a couple of years (or, seriously, rename it).

it’s nothing new

I’ve finally gotten around to reading Iain Gately’s Drink: A Cultural History of Alcohol, which I bought way back in June (in my defense, I bought it along with Infinite Jest, so I’ve been busy).  A hundred pages in, it’s an engaging, interesting read.  Most importantly, however, it offers this fraternity-resembling version of the Paternoster, from 12th-century European students:

Our Father, who art in glasses, hallowed be thy wine.  May the cups of Bacchus come, may thy storm be done in wine as it is in the tavern, give us this day our bread for the devouring and forgive our great cups, as we forgive not drinking, and lead us not into the absence of wine, but deliver us from our clothing.

It’s good to know that college hasn’t changed too much.

MxMo XLIII: Vermouth

This month’s theme for MxMo is a bit of a soft pass over home goal.  Something like that?  Sports metaphors are not my forte.  But let me welcome you to this month’s most disinterested-in-the-great-American-pastimes cocktail blog roundup, hosted by Vidiot at Cocktailians.  The theme is vermouth, one of the most common classic (and nouveau) cocktail ingredients, although Vidiot has been kind enough to stretch the invitation to include all aromatized wines so that everyone who has actually managed to get their hands on Cocchi Americano can make me want to internet-punch them in the face.

While I am not one of the chosen few who has so far been able to get their hands on what is reputed to be an accurate clone of Kina Lillet, the independent wine store run by kind of weird hipsters in my area, The Corkscrew, has started stocking Dolin vermouths – which were cool, like, nine months ago.  It’s always cooler to be late to the party, right?  Right.  Specifically, I was interested in the Dolin Blanc, since I had loved the idea of white vermouth from before I started getting into cocktails, but had been disappointed with the Cinzano Bianco I first tried.  Furthermore, Jason Wilson had posted a recipe for a cocktail he was calling the Orchard Keeper, a mixture of Calvados, Dolin Blanc, and honey syrup, which recalls a cool riff on a Manhattan.

Since I’m a better refiner than creator, I’m going to go ahead and use the Orchard Keeper as my submission for this MxMo, but I need to give credits for the refinements and variations to my lovely assistant and girlfriend.  Of the two of us, she has the patience to make small variations for side-by-side comparisons, while I fill the critical, peevishly-wondering-where-my-drink-is role.  It is thanks to her that the world can finally know whether Laird’s 100-proof Apple Brandy or Christian Drouin Calvados makes a superior Orchard Keeper.

Orchard Keeper (Original Recipe)
By Jason Wilson

• 2 oz Calvados (I used Christian Drouin)
• 3/4 oz white vermouth (I used Dolin Blanc)
• 1/2 oz honey syrup (1 part honey, 2 parts water)
  Stir all ingredients with ice.  Strain into a cocktail glass.  Garnish with a lemon twist.

Jason Wilson claims that this cocktail isn’t too sweet and, the first time I made it (with Laird’s 100-proof Bonded Apple Brandy), it wasn’t.  The woody kick of that liquor, much like bourbon or rye, benefits from some tempering with sugar.  But Calvados, which is thinner and sweeter, pushed this recipe into too-sweet territory.

Orchard Keeper (my recipe)

• Yeah, it’s the same thing but with Laird’s.  I don’t really need to spell it out, do I?

So I originally liked the Laird’s over the Calvados in this recipe.  But I have to admit that the Laird’s is less interesting.  It doesn’t scream apple.  It, really, is just a Manhattan with white vermouth (seriously, Laird’s is not all that different from a nice, rounded bourbon – I imagine it’s aged in new oak for at least some period of time).  So, after some tinkering, we had the idea to reduce the honey syrup. Just crazy enough to work, right?

Orchard Keeper (best recipe)

• 2 oz Calvados (Christian Drouin)
• 3/4 oz white vermouth (Dolin Blanc)
• 1/4 oz honey syrup (2:1::water:honey)
  Do the same thing as before, but better.

So there you have it, folks.  It took a lot of work, and we had to drink a lot of cocktails, but it was worth it.  We drink them so you don’t have to.

Don’t Be Bitter

So Michael at A Dash of Bitters is hosting a crazy contest.  Normally I avoid this kind of thing because I hate losing, but I also love The Bitter Truth Bitters.  And I love gin.  I am totally doing this thing.

So the deal is I have to express my bitter jealousy of another blogger.  Which means talking about how much I wish I had someone else’s talents. Luckily, this is pretty easy to figure out.  I am insanely jealous of Jay, at Oh Gosh!, who gets to travel all over the world drinking great stuff, taste a bunch of European alcohol that I don’t have access to, and, in fact, has had lots of access to the gin this contest is based around, Beefeater 24.  Furthermore, Jay’s cocktails are almost always delicious (at least, the cocktails I produce from his writing).

So, yeah, I’m bitter that I don’t have Jay’s cocktail-life, and also bitter that I’ve been suckered into a clever, potentially delicious promotion.  But I’m not actually sad to talk up Oh Gosh!, which deserves all the promotion it can get.

and then there was the one time where I saw my name in lights

I am way too cool to pretend to be cool about this:  I am totally in the Times, guys.

(For this article that the lovely folks at The Ethicurean let me publish.)

women and children first!

Normally I would heap scorn and withering sarcasm on something corny like this, but, let’s be clear: if there is any way to add a soupcon of human suffering and sweeping tragedy to cocktail hour, I am all about that.

once more, with chocolate this time

This may get me kicked out of the club, but I don’t really like Sidecars or Whiskey Sours.  The combination of wood-aged liquor with citrus and/or orange liqueur just tastes weird to me.  In fact, I tend to avoid any drink that combines whiskey or brandy and lemon juice, because I can never enjoy them properly.  No great loss, really; while the Sidecar is certainly a drink worth proselytizing, there are plenty of other things to do with that cognac.  And Whiskey Sours are always a little declasse, if you ask me, unless they’re jazzed up into a Delicious or Dizzy or What-Have-You Sour.

So I was delighted to discover the Commodore, in Wondrich’s Esquire Drinks: essentially a Whiskey Daisy with creme de cacao substituted for the Cointreau (note that there is another, more boring Commodore out there, being essentially a Whiskey Sour with a dash of orange bitters, and also a Commodore Perry, which is unrelated).  Somehow, the chocolate flavor smoothed over whatever it is that normally irritates me about citrus/whiskey combinations.

That was then!  Yesterday, I was thinking about how much I like mezcal.  I think about that a lot.  And about how well agave liquors and chocolate go together (a not entirely unexpected combinatorial triumph).  And that made me, in turn, think of taking a Beachfire Margarita, throwing out the Cointreau, and forcing in some creme de cacao and Xocolatl bitters.  I had to reverse my usual 3-2-1 tequila-Cointreau-lime juice ratio, since creme de cacao is a lot sweeter than Cointreau, but that drop in chocolate power was more than made up for by the Xocolatl bitters.

Remember the Alamo

• 1 oz reposado tequila (I used Sauza Hornitos)
• 1/2 oz joven mezcal (I used Del Maguey Chichicapa)
• 1 oz lime juice
• 1/2 oz creme de cacao (I used Marie Brizard, and, btw, why are there no “artisanal” creme de cacaos?)
• 2 dashes Bittermen’s Xocolatl Bitters
  Combine all ingredients, shake well with ice.  Strain and serve up in a salt-rimmed short glass.

I know many people treat mezcal as kind of an optional ingredient, but this drink alone justifies the hefty price.  I don’t have words for how good it is.

And, yeah, naming is not my strong suit.  But, hey, remember that Alamo place?  That had something to do with Mexico, right?  Or Texas.  Maybe it was Texas.  But I am willing to let Mexico have Texas back (please).  And there is totally a drink called Remember the Maine (a pretty sweet drink, too).  So this works, right?

Oh, come on.  It’s been a hard week.

MxMo XLII: Dizzy Dairy

I was going to come up with something clever about the return of MxMo as the seasons turn but, you know, it’s just not working for me.  So welcome to the interweb’s least cleverly introduced drink event, Mixology Monday XLII, with this month’s host, the eGullet gang, offering up the “Dizzy Dairy” theme.

To tell the truth, this is not a MxMo I’ve been looking forward to.  I’m allergic to cow’s milk, and so, aside from fizzes and flips, I’m mostly left out of the fun.  Sure, a Goat’s-Milk Punch would be cool, but I don’t really have a good source for it and, while I like the taste of goat’s milk more than the average person, I don’t really feel that it would play well with any alcohol I can think of.  I’m sticking to eggs this time.

Caribbean Eggnog

• 1 1/2 oz Jamaican Rum (I used Appleton V/X)
• 1/4 oz Pimento Dram (Homemade)
• 1/4 oz Domaine de Canton (Jamaican Ginger (hah, right) or Stone’s would be just fine)
• 2 dashes Angostura bitters
• 1 egg yolk
  Combine all ingredients in a shaker without ice.  Shake “dry” for 15-30 seconds, then add ice and shake until well-chilled.  Strain and dust top with cayenne pepper.

I mostly made this drink up because, to be honest, I am thoroughly unimpressed with Domaine de Canton and want to get it off my bar.  I would go so far as to say that it is less ginger-y than the charmingly-named Stone’s Original Green Ginger Wine (how Dickensian!).  It is also significantly more expensive.  While it is very nice taken straight, the Domaine de Canton seems to fade into the background in many cocktails.  So I figured I would beef it up with some allspice and set it loose in a drink where it’s significant sweetness would be advantageous.

Flips are some of my very favorite after-dinner cocktails, and this is essentially a spiced-up version of a Thunder Cocktail (which Erik Flannestad hasn’t gotten to yet, but I’m sure he’ll enjoy).  If you switched in nutmeg for the cayenne, it would be very similar to a streamlined Eggnog.  I have to admit that this isn’t really the coolest thing ever done with dairy in a cocktail-context, but I’m already a little dyspeptic this weekend, so it’s gonna have to be this.

off-topic

I has a guest post at the Ethicurean, on meat slaughter.