I see you too ... the London Dry Gin reimagined as a Spaniard

A crisis of identity? 

I happily drowned in a sea of gin tonics during my time in Spain. Budgeting for a healthy stock of gins and tonic waters meant meals were often reduced to eggs, lettuce, and rice, but we have to make sacrifices for what we love, don't we. And thus went my education - or rather, obsession - with the gin tonic. This one, Gin Sea, a London Dry Gin-styled gin distilled in Galicia, Spain by a well-known sommelier, Manuel Barrientos. Bright, fresh, with a slight herbal bitterness on the finish - makes a gin tonic that's incredibly clean, with enough complexity to keep things interesting. Garnish with a lime wheel and sprigs of fresh thyme.

What does it mean, for a drink to be from somewhere? Is it the provenance of the ingredients that decide its origin? The production method/traditions? In the end, what we don't give enough credit to is simply the tastes and preferences of the distiller - the creator, if you will. Alcohol, in particular, is not natural, despite what the marketers want you to believe. No, it's a product that is the result of human intervention and manipulation, to create a drink that fits a certain taste. Hopefully, we would want that taste to be good ... to be a representation of what the creator (distiller, winemaker, etc.) thinks is of high quality ... before we assign labels to it. The romantic old world notion of a drink's origin actually meaning anything is gone. Dead and gone, let's get that clear right now. We are now in the world of creators, who create drinks in their image first.

Of course, there are those who remain champions of the old ways, those peasants in Burgundy, the country gentlemen (and women) of the Moselle ... but what a minority. What a dying breed of heroes. Few now are cut from that cloth, and you know what? Consumers have a responsibility in this masse rejection of tradition in favour of 'commercial' products. Products with mainstream appeal. Dead, soulless, meaningless drinks that tease you with promises of profundity, but eventually reveal themselves to be cheap distractions. And consumers eat that shit up. They want wines and spirits that are easy to drink - that horrible, horrible phrase born of the mass commercialization of alcohol beverages. And the traditionalists, the old-timers? They trudge on, supported by an increasingly smaller group of enthusiasts who may not have profound knowledge, but certainly possess great appreciation for the drink. How do we reverse all this?

I like Gin Sea a lot. I like this project a lot, and as I've said before, idealism counts for naught if what you're producing tastes like shit. And this gin is delicious. So maybe to answer this question of identity, that's really all we have to consider for now - that someone is doing something unique and of high quality.

The rest, well ... we'll leave discussions about what origin means to the marketers.

DF

France's gin game strong

Gin is the truth.

Two German classmates visited Toronto last week, on their Canadian leg of a big trip through the East Coast. Big vodka guys, one told me he liked vodka because 'it's the most honest drink there is'. I've been thinking about what he meant by that. Maybe just a random one-liner between (somewhat) drunk friends, but while we're on the topic of honesty ...

I've always loved gin, even before living in Spain. But man, that first real glass of gin tonic changes you. Even on a student budget, I drank oceans of gin tonics during my time in Barcelona, learning to see cocktails in an entirely different light. Spanish bartenders take a culinary approach to the cocktails, what North American hipster mixologists < BARF > call craft cocktailing - an excuse for them to completely sissify a good solid drink. They don't do that shit in Spain. No, the approach they take is always to respect the base spirit they use, in this case, gin. So you look at the character of the gin you're using to decide what tonic to marry it with, and what to garnish. And always, like any good chef, the star is the gin, not yourself. You can throw a half-dozen garnishes in the glass to appear impressive, but really, you have no clue - using flash and superfluousness to overcompensate for professional insecurities.

So of course, living there meant that I had access to the most amazing Spanish gins. But I want to talk about this one first, because I think Citadelle is an incredibly, almost criminally, underrated gin. Fresh, vibrant, floral with a touch of spice - but most impressive is that texture, a silkiness that hides the alcohol and leaves your mouth in full happiness. So when using a gin like this in a gin tonic, what approach do you take? You look at the elements of the gin that you want to emphasize - for me, it's the elements of freshness and texture. First thing to decide is what tonic to use. After all, the tonic makes up 2/3 of the drink. Fever-Tree Indian Tonic Water is my preferred choice. It has that freshness from the herbs that's fully integrated in the aromas - not too sweet - and just enough dry extract to give you a sensation of texture while still remaining elegant. Garnish of a lime wheel to play up Citadelle's floral notes and give some citric lift.

And we come back to trying to understand what makes a drink honest. At this point, all I want to say is - honesty comes from respecting the ingredients going into your drink, and being thoughtful in what you put together. What gin with what tonic with what garnish(es). And always, always, always ... leaving your ego out of it. The gin tonic ... the most honest drink there is.

Gin tonic de Citadelle

Citadelle Gin

Fever-Tree Indian Tonic Water

Lime wheel

Fill a gin tonic glass with large chunks of ice

Pour 3 ounces of Citadelle gin

Stir for 30 seconds to lower the temperature and texturize the gin

Pour the Fever-Tree into the glass slowly, over the back of the barspoon

Stir once to integrate, and garnish with a lime wheel

DF

the pride of Peru

So ... does one shake or blend?

It was really cool meeting the parents of some of my Spanish classmates. After months of cramped quarters living with roommates (men in their late 20's/early 30's - supposed adults - can still be dirty animals), it was nice to go into a real house, make drinks in a real kitchen. A lot of these parents, particularly the men, recall their trips to Peru in their youth fondly. And a lot of those memories revolve around the pisco sour.

Pisco is a brandy that's the subject of much contention as to its origin, particularly between the Peruvians and the Chileans. But there's really no need to fight. Both countries seem to have unique ways of serving it - the Chileans drink piscola (pisco and cola, duh), while they do it like this in Lima. Personally, I have my foot in both camps, with good friends on both sides not to mention a delightful young Chilean chica I met in Barcelona who, can I say, is just my kind of woman. Now, if I had to choose - had to - based purely on my personal, subjective preferences, as an outsider - I'll go with a pisco sour. This pisco sour.

The IESE pisco sour

Pisco
Fresh lime juice
Sugar syrup
Egg white
Angostura bitters

In a cocktail shaker, pour 2 ounces of pisco

Add 0.75 ounces of sugar syrup, 0.5 ounces of lime juice, and half an egg white

Dry shake until egg white emulsifies

Fill shaker with ice and hard shake for 45 seconds

Strain into a chilled glass, allowing the egg white to create a half inch layer of head

Finish with a few drops of Angostura bitters

I've been told (by my Peruvian teammate) that most households in Lima employ a blender, crushing the ice into essentially a boozy slushie. I don't like it. It's lazy and we can do better. This is a pisco sour done in the IESE way - staying true to its roots, with a touch of refinement.

It's now nearly 5pm. Pisc-o-clock.

DF

being a cowboy in Barna

I've been away. 

It's hard to spend time on LCF when I feel like there's a million other more pressing things to apply myself to, but as we heard from the head of marketing of Haribo, there is time to do everything. Ok. Let's give it a shot.

He's right, you know. We do have time - maybe not to do everything, but at least enough time to do things we really care about. Do I really care about LCF? Perhaps not as much as I once did, but it's important to spend some time, in regular intervals, to do a bit of writing. Just for myself. 

So shit, what's been going on? Plenty of cool things, actually. Man, I will miss IESE - in a flash, it's been 18 months and suddenly, we have graduation rehearsals coming up Thursday. Having just wrapped our best party of the year in #MultiCulti2015, I'm not ready yet. I know it's time to go, time to move on and do other things, but I'm not ready yet.

Bourbon. We take it for granted in North America ... the selection, the availability. And then you come here to Spain, land of gin and terrible beer, and everything else becomes an afterthought. Will you ever reach the level of desperation needed to go for JD? I never imagined I'd be so happy to see Bulleit. Tears weren't necessarily shed, but I did stand in the middle of El Corte Inglés with the biggest shit-eating grin. Embarrassing, but when you deprive a man of bourbon, well, all bets are off, as they say.

What is it about bourbon? For the moment, forget about the actual drink. It could be that most cowboy of drinks, the mighty Old-Fashioned, a mint julep, or even a whiskey sour, but in whatever iteration, the character of that sweet, sweet nectar comes through. Siempre. Bulleit has that spice, that touch of honey, that big boom of alcohol. The bee's knees. This wino is grateful for a little taste of home, that reminder that while gin is dope, bourbon is the one and only for the throwback's soul.

At the Haribo session, our guest speaker continued. Did you know they managed to create a whole market for soft candy in Spain? That they not only built a brand here, but in fact changed consumer behaviour? Proving that people are endlessly malleable, despite protestations to the contrary - you just have to know which buttons to press. 9½ weeks left before I graduate as an MBA. 

DF

drinking under a derby

Broker's Premium London Dry Gin

We're not cheap drunks, so when we go for classic cocktails in the summer such as the Tom Collins (or even a gin & tonic), we need to be careful about the quality of the spirit we're using. No two gins are made alike, and of course, I still need to keep tasting to find the one I like. Researching hard liquor, which is always the best!!

I'm a simple and easy-going guy. Tanqueray gin makes me happy, all pungent and stiff, a good and proper drink. And for the purposes of mixing, it might be the better choice. Broker's is cute and all, under a derby, but it's all a question of texture. Mixing spirits can't be too elegant and soft on the palate. So while this particular gin is wonderful on its own, or in a martini for example, it just lacks a certain amount of bite, of aggressiveness for a Tom Collins.

You know what the most dangerous drink is? Whether it's a wine, a beer, a cocktail . . . whatever . . . it's the ones that are so candied and sweet they stop tasting like alcohol. And you can never forget that what you're drinking is an alcohol. That's why people who drink these fruity sweet confections have nothing more than grade school palates. At our age, we need to start getting past that juvenile let's see how much we can drink stage, and understand that a factor of connoisseurship is responsibility. So all I'm interested in (talking about cocktails) are the true classics, which show balance and power, but still manage to show off the base spirit. Gin cocktails should still taste like gin, as should whiskey, bourbon, or rum. Is it a bit silly to say that I can't get along with people who can't appreciate a good, classic cocktail? Maybe. But like the fresh ingredients that go into a Tom Collins, why should we compromise?

DF

straight truth

But seriously, when it comes to spirits, I'm a cheap motherfucker.

Count on the Americans to not be able to manufacture a screwcap sturdy enough for more than 20 twists. It's all a conspiracy to make you drink more, I swear. I found an old bottle of Jim Beam Black Label that someone gave us, I forget. So I started drinking. And not even 1/3 of the way in, the screwcap breaks. It just keeps turning and turning now, never getting any tighter. How does that even happen?! I was stuck. I pretty much had to chug the rest of it and get alcohol poisoning, or let it all oxidize and go to hell. So I had to get creative. My friend (not so friendly anymore) once came to a dinner with a bottle of one of those tragic home-kit wines. The wine somehow went down the drain, but I ended up with a clear bottle. Good for something at least.

A bottle of bourbon is kinda my new thing. Whatever. Bourbon, any weird blended whisky, my love for Havana Club. Sometimes I just want to have a proper drink. It all starts with a touch of sweetness, then rounds out to something quite elegant. For late and lonely nights, because after all, we're not alcoholics.

DF

Last drops of that Suntory

. . . always taste the best. The Japanese can really do it all - these blended brandies are extraordinary. Pure and vibrant, with the most amazing sweetness/oak nuttiness. Just all love, perfuming my room, perfuming it all.

DF

to the king

To the king, down in one!

You know, sometimes late at night, when you feel like a real drink - scotch or something - it only feels right if you watch Casablanca as you drink. Admire the way Humphrey Bogart does that thumb/middle finger thing with his cigarette, the way he swigs his glass of bourbon . . .

Feeling like a drunkard. But as Captain Renault would say, that makes me a citizen of the world. And what kind of man is Captain Renault, you say? Well, just like any other man . . . only more so.

DF

the last of the mulberry wine

I'm having these crippling episodes of self-doubt and anxiety again. I look like shit, I can't sleep, drinking heavily again . . . and the real business hasn't even started yet! It's been a few years since I've graduated, and lately, it's becoming quite clear that if I'm going to make something of myself, as they say, I need to go back to school. So it's time to tighten up that sphincter and get to work.

I'm reminded of the last of the mulberry wine we brought back from the old country. My paternal ancestry traces back to the coastal town of Ningbo, about 220 km or so south of Shanghai. It's an ancient town, with a history going back to 4800 B.C., and was an important trading port through the dynasties. My grandfather left the town as a young boy, moving to Shanghai to work - he apparently never lost his accent. We still have (distant) relatives living there, and who run a farm. High up on my list is to go visit and work the fields and chickens they still raise. I hear their homemade rice hooch is a winner as well.

I've written so much about this, but mulberry wine is a treasure handed down to us by our ancestors, and it's a tradition we need to protect. Mulberry is native to the area, and locals soak the ripe berries in baijiu, the fiery rice spirit possessing upwards of 40% abv. If the mulberries are of good quality, the liquid turns purple, becoming sweeter and purer in flavour and texture. The alcohol absorbs into the berries, preserving them and giving the texture of the fruit an amazing crispiness. And done right, all it takes is 3 berries to knock you the fuck out. We Ningbo country bumpkins appreciate people who can hold their liquor. My last visit back home, I experienced first-hand what it means for our people to drink hard. Those motherfuckers don't play around.

Locals actually use this for medicinal purposes. Particularly effective for bad bouts of diarrhea, I've been told. Country medicine ftw!!

DF

the last drops of mulberry wine...

...are always the best

My forefathers are from the coastal town of Ningbo, and apparently, we have some distant relatives still living there. I've never been - and as a Fang, I think I'm expected to pay a visit sometime in the future. It's not a big deal. It just depends on the amount of gifts you bring right?

Anyways, this is a liqour that's unique to the region. Mulberries grow native there, and when they're at their ripest, the locals sink them in BaiJiu, the fiery rice and grain spirit that pushes 50% abv. With age, the alcohol is absorbed into the fruit, taking away the fire and leaving the spirit rounder. The fruit on the other hand will, as they say, knock you the fuck out. Locals swear by it for medicinal purposes too. I've never tried it, but it's supposedly particularly effective for bouts of diarrhea.

It all hinges on the quality of the fruit, as always. These mulberries weren't the ripest, which leaves the spirit slightly bitter. Not that exciting to drink, but eating the fruit is great. All the kick from the alcohol, and the texture stays a bit crunchy. And what a kick. A bowl of it, and the room started spinning. Just enough, just enough.

DF

tipple before the talk

I never time these very well. Mojito season totally over, and I still have a bit of simple syrup and this bit of añejo rum left. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why you never buy cheap rum. Chilled, in a tumbler, the rum is delicious. Smoky, slightly sweet. I didn't think there was that much in the bottle. All good though, a big glass before giving a wine presentation helping to warm the palate. Highly recommend, because if you're going to get tipsy, do it the right way.

DF

The Forbidden Game

So this is what it's come to. DF, depressed and down, resorting to cheap scotch. Five to seven shots in, I don't know, still not feeling better. The fumes off the candles seem to be helping though. The Erlkönig can come take me.

This is how people become alcoholics.

DF

Frosty

Frosty, can't wait for warm weather and sun.

DF

五粮液

My father is no fun to drink with. No fun at all, so my reaction to his declaration that he could drink me under the table was, well, to laugh. How would such a thing be determined?

With a fiery Chinese spirit, of course.

A true Chinese drink, 五粮液, from the town of 宜宾. As the name suggests, made from 5 different grains. A perfect accompaniment to our Lunar New Year's dinner. Perfumed, floral, rustic, with a sweetness and thick texture on the palate. And despite the (extremely) high alcohol, worked with our seafood heavy hotpot.

As for who won? A 25 year old who casually puts away two bottles of wine per sitting against a sipper who's pushing his late fifties? Please, wtf do you think happened?

DF

Hold it down

I'm drinking rum again, and it's been awesome. Havana Club, holding it down until I have a steadier supply of wine coming in.

DF

Courvoisier VS Cognac

Oh, just for the hell of it, shared a few hits of Courvoisier VS Cognac with a friend the other night. She was a bit stressed out, I just wanted a drink. The VS signifies Very Special, meaning a minimum of two distillations and two years in oak. A very sweet cognac, not my immediate choice when I think of spirits (hello Islay single-malt), but then again, I didn't have to pay for this. Don't know how much it helped my friend, but she stumbled out a bit more light-spirited than when she came in.

DF

This is how we roll

Wu Liang Ye. A lethal sorghum liquor of China, at 52%. It was my friend's birthday, so I was ready to celebrate and to rumble. Lethal and long in every way, but it's a Chinese drink. If you can't take this - you have absolutely no business calling yourself Chinese. I drank myself silly, to the point of not being to stand straight. But I celebrated my friend's birthday properly. And that is as Chinese as it gets.

DF

Mulberry wine

The mulberry wine, pictured earlier with the berries. As discussed, the wine itself isn't what's interesting about this fruit wine - the berries, after absorbing all the liquor, are the real excitement. At this point, we had been keeping this for too long. Perhaps a product of using less than stellar fruit to begin with, the wine was listless and bitter in flavour, although it's quite creamy in texture. Clearly lacks the colour, and the flavour explosion of the first bottle, drunk way back.

DF

Mulberries and liqour

My paternal ancestry is from the coastal town of Ningbo, in the southeast Chinese province of Zhejiang. This is a fortified fruit wine that they make. The mulberry tree grows everywhere in the region, and enjoys the reputation of producing fruit of high quality - perfect for making these wines. Picked at their ripest, the mulberries are dropped into a 52% Chinese sorghum liquor, usually Maotai, and aged for 1-2 years. We managed to bring a few jars of this treasure back, and it's been sitting, forgotten, in the back of the fridge for at least 5 years. I finished our first jar a while back, and I'm holding onto two more, although a taste of this has me convinced that I better start drinking soon.

What's extraordinary is that the wine has lost a lot of the flavour and the alcohol - everything has been absorbed into the fruit. Four or five of them, and the room starts spinning. Complex flavour, with the texture remaining firm, the most delicious berries in all the world.

DF

Brandy and a smoke

With my cigar, a glass of XO Brandy, from Japan of all places. Suntory Super Deluxe XO Brandy. This is why the pairing works - both elements complement each other so well. The brandy considerably softens the astringent qualities of the cigar, while all the smoking significantly sweetens the brandy.

A warm, but lethal combo. Not for the faint-hearted - this goes straight to your head.

DF