Author: Thirsty South

Dedicated to all things drinking well in the South.
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Bartender’s Best Friend

With all the awesome new vodka flavors out there (CAKE! WHIPPED CREAM!!! CHOCOLAT RAZBERI!!!!! FLUFFED MARSHMALLOW!!!!!!!!), I’m amazed no one is talking about what surely must be the best friend to any aspiring bottle-juggling-mixologist-in-training. Bitters? No way. Too old school. I’m talking the ultimate flavor enhancer for your cocktail creations. Something that’s smooth and sweet and likely to cause women to swoon in anticipation. Ahh, yeah, break out the Coffee-Mate! What? You’ve never made a Coffee-Mate-ini? If not that, what about sneaking a little bit of vodka or whiskey into your morning Coffee-Mated coffee flavored beverage? No??? Who are you? C’mon, they’ve already got Amaretto and Irish Creme and Eggnog ready to go; you’re halfway there before you even start.

OK, I’ll be honest. I hate the stuff. You will never ever ever find a bottle of Coffee-Mate in my house. The ingredient list is enough to scare the bejeezus out of anyone opposed to consuming large quantities of chemically-modified foodstuffs (actual example: WATER, SUGAR,聽PARTIALLY HYDROGENATED SOYBEAN AND/OR COTTONSEED OIL, AND LESS THAN 2% OF NATURAL AND ARTIFICIAL FLAVORS, SODIUM CASEINATE (A MILK DERIVATIVE)**, MONO- AND DIGLYCERIDES, DIPOTASSIUM PHOSPHATE, CELLULOSE GEL, CELLULOSE GUM, CARAGEENAN, DEXTROSE). Delicious, right? The whole idea of flavoring your coffee with chemically-enhanced “creamer” is antithetical to the whole notion of enjoying COFFEE. Enough ranting, though, let’s get to the cocktails! (There is an actual cocktail at the end of this rant.)

Milk and cream are not entirely foreign to the cocktail bar. There’s the White Russian, of course, and the Irish Coffee. Those are both acceptable uses of dairy behind the bar, if you ask me, but the slope gets very slippery after that, once you head into the land of the Screaming Orgasm (the drink, that is). I did, however, discover another acceptable usage of dairy, particularly the Coffee-Mate “almost dairy” type: when your friends whip up a batch of espresso-bean-infused bourbon during a spring break-induced fit of ingeniuty and invite you to figure out what to do with it. Sure, you can go elegant and play around the robust coffee with aromatic bitters and nut-based liqueurs and even certain dark beers boiled down to a syrup. Or, you can go crass and commercial. Espresso-infused bourbon… meet Fat Free French Vanilla Naturally and Artificially Flavored Coffee Creamer and a few cubes of ice. Magic. You can thank me later. And don’t be surprised next time you show up at your favorite bar and there’s a big shelf full of Coffee-Mate beside the Italian Amaro and Carpano Antica and all that jazz. Just hope they don’t start juggling the bottles, that stuff makes a mess.

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Drowning in wine

I have something to admit. I hate big wine tasting events. Same thing for beer. I keep getting drawn into these types of events for the opportunity to try new things, to overload on whatever it is that is being poured. But I really tend to regret it afterwards, kind of the way one feels after eating too much at an all-you-can-eat buffet, shamed by participating in something that goes beyond reason, ready to perform penance for your sins (whether gluttony or greed or even envy of others).

Why do I hate these types of events? Insert rant here… because I hate large tents or ballrooms full of lots of people pushing their way through crowded aisles trying to get in as many sips as possible in an allotted time. After the tenth taste or so, your tongue begins to numb to any joy of tasting anyway. The atmosphere suppresses any ability to sit with a drink, to get to know it beyond a cursory sensation. Outliers become more notable simply because they stand out from the norm. There’s simply too much followed by even more, even if (maybe especially because) you’re spitting after every sip so as not to get intoxicated or simply full. And that ain’t right.

Sure, you get the benefit of trying many new things at a big tasting event. And at a high profile event, you actually get the opportunity to meet and speak with the owners and/or winemakers and/or people who really know their stuff and are passionate about their product. That is, at least until the next guy in line starts shoving you out of the way so he can get his free pour.

I went to a trade wine tasting event today. It was for the High Museum of Art’s annual wine auction weekend. This is a big deal wine event, with big deal winemakers present, passionate small producers, all kinds of names I’ve heard but never tried. It’s also for a great cause, the fine art museum that calls Atlanta home. I had to be there, right? Well, I did get to meet some fascinating people. I did get to聽try a few wines that were really interesting (among many things that were not). And I did get to reconnect with some friends in the business that I don’t get to see often enough. But that doesn’t change the fact that I felt a bit depressed at the end of it, yearning for something like the wine tasting I went to a few nights before, where it was one passionate person sharing her family’s story with a small room of people who really cared about the topic at hand. I’d rather meet that one person, taste that one winemaker’s wines, than speed date through a crowded room for the opportunity to taste a tantalizing array of too much. Sure, each type of event has its purpose, and each has its place. I’m just sharing my preference, the way I find more relevant to the enjoyment of wine (or spirits, or beer, or whatever), the more intimate route. (Dear public relations people: if you must blacklist me from future events for my remarks, so be it)

So, with that said, I’m happy to share the winemakers I met whose wines really did manage to break through the crowd and leave an impression upon me. The next few notes will probably leave you saying, “wait, didn’t he just say he hates events like this?” True enough, I have to be honest, I did enjoy a few moments among the masses.

First off, I really dig the pinot noir聽of Kosta Browne. These are fairly pricey wines that I’ve only rarely tasted, and it was great to try a few of their wines and meet Michael Browne in person. Their Russian River has a great mossy forest floor aspect to it (yes, that’s a good thing). I may have liked their Sonoma Coast pinot even more, with a bit more balance between the woods-y notes and the dark fruit, a fairly voluptuous take on pinot noir. The pinot noir being poured by Andy Peay from Peay Vineyards also impressed, especially the “Scallop Shelf Estate,” superb floral and spice nose, lovely body.

Pierson Meyer‘s Heintz Vineyard chardonnay was fascinating, more mineral and then intensely vibrant聽than other Heintz vineyard chardonnay I’ve had (there are many, and they all tend to be excellent in different ways). I learned that their winemaker, Robbie Meyer, is actually from Atlanta and went to the University of Georgia – always good to meet Atlanta folks who have made it in the wine world. His L’angevin Russian River pinot noir is also my kind of wine, full of spicy undertones.

You’ll notice I don’t mention many cabs or other big reds, they were present in abundance, but none of them really spoke to me. I’ve moved on from the attraction of big wines… AND big wine events.

P.S. I realize for many people in the trade, attending large trade tastings is very important. This is from the perspective of both a consumer (who has attended many large scale fundraiser wine tasting events) and a writer (who covers both trade and consumer events). Thanks, any feedback appreciated in the comments below.

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If you’re interested in wine

If you’re interested in wine, especially wine with age, do yourself a favor and seek out the opportunity to taste the wines of Lopez de Heredia, one of the great Spanish Rioja producers that has been making extraordinary stuff for about 135 years now. I had the pleasure of visiting their winery a few years ago, so was thrilled to see that Maria Jose Lopez de Heredia, great-granddaughter of the founder, would be in Atlanta and leading a tasting at Tower Wine and Spirits. That event was just last night, and it was another opportunity to experience the magic of this winery and the steadfast resoluteness of their聽approach聽to winemaking. The wines of Lopez de Heredia are different, unique, uncompromising and alluring. If you want simple sipping and easy enjoyment, these wines are not for you. If you relish experiencing history and being beguiled by a wine, Lopez de Heredia is worth seeking out.

Maria Jose Lopez de Heredia and a few of her family's wines

At last night’s tasting, Maria spoke to the history of her family’s winery and their dedication to doing things as they’ve been done for over 100 years. The wines of Lopez de Heredia are made for aging – they spend up to 10 years in barrel before being bottled, and then many years more in bottle in the winery’s amazing underground cellars for further aging. Current releases range from 1991 to 2005. Yes, you read that right, the current releases go back more than two decades and have been sitting happily in Lopez de Heredia’s cool, humid, mold-covered (good mold!) cellars in Haro, Spain.

As we began tasting, Maria pointed out a few unique aspects of tasting these wines. The whites are best served close to room temperature (slightly chilled) to allow the flavors to fully show their stuff. I’ve had them served cold before, and it definitely does the wine a disservice. She does not recommend decanting, but opening the bottle up a bit in advance will not hurt. These wines do evolve in very interesting ways over the course of an hour or two hours or even two days. Maria also shared that the wines are really made for food – yes, they are fascinating by themselves, but paired with some cheese, some meats, the enjoyment increases. (On that note,聽Tower’s Stacey Sondek did a nice job putting together an array of Spanish cheeses, smoked fish, prosciutto and more to accompany the wine).

The wines tasted last night included two Lopez de Heredia whites and four reds. Very brief tasting notes are below, but the overwhelming takeaway is that these are stunning wines of complexity and character, unlike anything being made in America or anywhere else in the world really (on the red side, you’ll see some similarities to older Burgundies, but Lopez de Heredia certainly has its own very distinct terroir). Lopez de Heredia also focuses on their two primary vineyards – Tondonia and Bosconia – and contrasting the two demonstrates the degree to which the wines from nearby vineyards can diverge, even with 聽very similar mixes of varietals in the bottle. Bosconia produces more earthy and powerful reds; Tondonia is lighter and more elegant.

I could go on and on about Lopez de Heredia, but will simply wrap up by repeating the recommendation that you seek out these wines for a singular experience. Tasting notes (rather haphazard, scribbled over conversation) follow, then a few photos to give you a feel for the winery and its evident sense of history in Rioja.

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Revisiting Jeremy Lin (the Cocktail)

Linsanity has plateaued somewhere far below its peak in New York City, but Jeremy Lin (the player) is still managing to play some excellent basketball. The news this morning captured the current state of the Knicks, “Fueled by a dose of Linsanity and a timely coaching change, the Knicks are making a furious charge toward a division title.” So, with Lin’s mini-resurgence, I decided to revisit the Jeremy Lin cocktail I created a month ago at the peak of Lin-diculousness. How Lin-diculous did things get? Well, the Thirsty South-devised cocktail made the Wall St. Journal. What!? (Scroll down in that link, apparently Rory McIlroy and Andrew Luck take precedent over a good cocktail!)

The day I created the cocktail, I didn’t even have the ingredients I wanted on hand. After all, not many folks have Kao Liang sitting around the house. 聽It was a “theoretical cocktail” (and I am now pursuing my PhD in Cocktail Theory, it takes about a lifetime to complete). Now, though, with Kao Liang in hand, I can present a slightly modified version of the recipe. As intended, this drink is strong, with bite and a nice zing to it, and an undercurrent of earthy mellow sweetness pinning it down. The combination of ginger and rhubarb and the slightly funky brown sugar-y notes of (sorghum-based) Kao Liang really works nicely. I’ve axed聽The King鈥檚 Ginger Liqueur in favor of Domaine de Canton, partly due to the fact that I CAN’T GET THE KING’S GINGER in Georgia, and partly because the Domaine de Canton is a bit more subtle and I think it allows the unusual flavors of the Kao Liang to come through. With that… enjoy!

The Jeremy Lin

Ingredients

  • 1.5 oz Kao Liang
  • 0.75 oz Domaine de Canton Ginger Liqueur
  • 0.25 oz fresh lemon juice
  • Dash Brooklyn Hemispherical Rhubarb Bitters

Shake ingredients over crushed ice like a聽madman. Strain into a chilled glass.聽Slam it home.聽

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Three Cherries – Maraschino, Michigan, and Moonshine

While many folks obsess over which rye whiskey and which sweet vermouth make the most magical Manhattan, not enough attention is paid to the lowly cocktail cherry. I say “lowly” because, unfortunately, what passes for a cocktail cherry in the vast majority of bars around America is a pale imitation of its ancestral archetype. The modern American cocktail cherry is akin to an evil incarnation of all that is wrong with today’s overprocessed food world. Of course, in a truly great cocktail bar, you hopefully won’t find that neon-red, waxed-up and shiny Corvette-paint-job of a cherry that might belong on an ice cream sundae or even in a Shirley Temple, but definitely not in a Manhattan. What you will likely find is either a housemade version or a jar of Luxardo Maraschino cherries. These Luxardo cherries are the real deal, from Italy, since 1821, made with real Marasca cherries, real Marasca cherry juice, real Maraschino liqueur. They are a deep black cherry red. They speak to reality rather than saccarine fantasy.

I love cherries. I really do. Especially the ones you can buy on the side of the road in the heat of summer, in places where they actually grow cherry trees. There’s nothing quite like the joy of spitting out cherry seeds at sixty miles an hour as you cruise down a country highway – except maybe the joy of reaching the end of a good Manhattan and finding a perfectly delicious Maraschino cherry waiting for you at the bottom of the glass. In the name of cocktail science, I undertook a taste test of three different cherries – the classic Luxardo Maraschino, an American take on this classic by H&F Bottle Shop in Atlanta (but using Balaton cherries from Michigan), and a Southern-fried “moonshine” version from Ole Smoky Distillery in Tennessee.

Let’s start with the original, Luxardo. The ingredient list surprises with a few more entries than one might expect – Marasca cherries, Marasca cherry juice, Luxardo Maraschino liqueur, sugar, but then also flavors, natural color, glucose, citric acid. Nothing wrong there, but interesting to see all that goes in to making the classic Maraschino cherry. In the jar, these cherries bear a dark black tint with just a hint of purplish red. The syrup is thick and, yes, 聽syrupy, with an equally deep dark cherry red color to it. When you bite into one, a base sour note kicks in first, followed by a rich dark cherry flavor surrounded by subtle nutty and earthy notes. There’s a slightly petrified crispness to the texture of the cherries, maybe slightly more than I care for, that lets you know they’ve been hanging out in sugar and liqueur for a while. In a Manhattan, they deliver a satisfying range of bitter to sweet fruit that comes on strong at the end. There is a reason this is the standard bearer, as the bitter and sweet fruit accents a cocktail incredibly well. 12.7oz for $16 or so

On to a modern rendition, from H&F Bottle Shop. (If it seems I have a penchant for this particular purveyor, it’s true – after all, who else is in the South is selling housemade cocktail cherries and Bloody Mary mix聽alongside a killer wine and spirits selection?) So, first, there are the Balaton cherries, which are “harvested once a year” in Michigan and “may be the best sour cherries grown in the States” (according to none other than H&F Bottle Shop!). Then, H&F uses a combination of cranberry juice, sugar, and Maraschino liqueur to pack the cherries and create a nice light syrup. The color here verges to a purple Kalamata olive territory, decidedly lighter than the Luxardos but still dark on the way to black. The syrup is relatively thin and tart, thanks to that cranberry juice. The taste is a little sour, a little sweet, and very natural, much closer to what you expect from a fresh cherry than something out of a factory. In a Manhattan, these deliver a balanced flavor that is tremendously complementary to the rye and vermouth. And the texture is not too soft, not too crisp, really just right. Big props to H&F for finding a way to better Luxardo, at least in my book. Pricey? Yes. Worth it? I think so, at least for a special treat every once in a while. 5oz for $16.

As for Ole Smoky, you can see right away that this jar of cherries is closer to that jar of cherries that is found in too many bars around America – bright red like cherry flavored candy. Visually聽appealing?聽Absolutely, like candy to a baby. Tasty? We’ll see… These cherries don’t sit in syrup, but rather in 100 proof grain neutral spirits with flavor added – AKA “moonshine” (?). The taste? Well, my notes said, “ouch, horrible, high alcohol, not much fruit.” I should probably stop there. In a Manhattan, my note simply read, “egad.” I’ll definitely stop there. 750 ml for $24 or so

What have we learned here? Well, first off, ditch that whole notion of cocktail cherries being聽“cherry red” and opt for something closer to midnight black. Grab some Luxardo if you can find them, call up H&F Bottle Shop if you’re eager for a more artisanal approach, or wait until summer and make up a batch of your own from fresh cherries. That is, if you can stop yourself from eating them first.