Entries Tagged as 'Special Projects'

Falernum #8

Six weeks ago or thereabouts, the good Dr. Cocktail set a little corner of the cocktail- & tiki-blogging community a-twitter with an in-depth discussion of the classic Barbados liqueur / sweetener known as falernum. As those who, for some inexplicable reason, have been visiting this blog since last summer may attest, I’ve been on a sporadic quest to create my own falernum, one that will compare in flavor and surpass in freshness the commercial brands that are available (in certain markets, typically not Seattle, which was another impetus behind taking on this mission). After Doc’s story came out, I talked big about having landed the Giant Falernum, then quickly had to scurry into my kitchen to make sure I knew what I was talking about.

I didn’t, but that’s nothing new.

Still, by that point I’d got my hackles up — no falernum’s going to make a monkey outta me! — and I embarked on several more rounds of falernum experimentation before finally arriving at this recipe. I liked it fine, but distrusting my tastebuds, I took some to Tales of the Cocktail where I sought the expert opinions of Dr. Cocktail and Jeff “Beachbum” Berry. The experts succeeded in getting a taste down without gagging, making me damn proud, and Doc even gave me an uneasy smile before offering me $5 to go sit at a different table. I consider that a ringing endorsement.

Now, as I’m kind of tired of messing with the recipe — you have no idea how my family is reacting to a refrigerator full of mason jars with green, funky-smelling liquids in them (and that’s in the spaces between the vermouth bottles) — I thought I’d share it with my readers. Both of you.

Falernum #8

  • 6 ounces Wray & Nephew Overproof White Rum
  • zest of 9 medium limes, removed with a microplane grater or sharp vegetable peeler, with no traces of white pith
  • 40 whole cloves (buy fresh ones — not the cloves that have been in your spice rack since last Christmas)
  • 1 1/2 ounce, by weight, peeled, julienned fresh ginger

Combine these ingredients in a jar and seal, letting the mixture soak for 24 hours. Then, strain through moistened cheesecloth, squeezing the solids to extract the last, flavorful bits of liquid.

Add:

  • 1/4 teaspoon almond extract*
  • 14 ounces cold process 2:1 simple syrup (two parts sugar to one part water, shaken in a jar or bottle WITHOUT HEAT until all the sugar is dissolved)
  • 4 1/2 ounces fresh, strained lime juice

Shake it all together and serve.

* Chad Solomon from Pegu Club suggested adding some toasted almonds to the soak, in addition to using the almond extract. This sounds like a fine idea, and may be part of falernums 9, 10 and 11.

Is it the be-all and end-all of falernums? Of course not — rather, it’s an easy and cheap way to make a fairly obscure flavoring that’s essential in a class of exotic drinks. As it uses fresh ingredients, it has (to my palate) a better aroma and snappier flavor than the commercial brands I’ve tried. Of course, this freshness also limits its shelf life, so make small batches — this recipe may easily be halved — keep it refrigerated and use it within a month or so. Either chuck the old falernum or, better yet, just have a big swizzle party before your batch expires.

You can also customize this recipe. If you really like the tartness of the Fee’s falernum, for example, you can either add more lime juice (be careful though; the flavor will take over) or you can track down some citric acid crystals and add them to your mix (it won’t be as natural and pure, of course, but what the hell — it’s your drink).

If anyone decides to give this a spin, toss a note my way in the comments — I’m curious to hear what other folks think.

Grenadine Face-off

Grenadine is one of the most common and versatile sweeteners and flavorings in classic mixology; it’s also damn difficult to find — the real stuff, anyway. Originally a pomegranate-based syrup, grenadine has been hybridized and bastardized out of existence, so that virtually all commercial versions contain little if any actual pomegranate juice. This is a pity — pomegranate has such a bright, fruity (for lack of a better word) flavor that to replace it with a mishmash of high-fructose corn syrup and red food coloring is a real insult to honest cocktails.

Fortunately, it’s pretty easy to make your own grenadine at home. I’ve come across several recipes for the do-it-yourselfer, and there are two that seem to be the most popular: a cold-process mix of pomegranate juice and sugar, and a hot-process method that involves a pomegranate reduction and sugar. But which version makes the more promising grenadine?

Last week I cozied up in my kitchen with a couple of bottles of POM pomegranate juice and a bag of sugar, and set out to determine which process makes the better grenadine.

VERSION ONE — COLD-PROCESS

I started the comparison with a cold-process version. I first came across this recipe in David Wondrich’s Killer Cocktails a little more than a year ago, and it’s been my go-to recipe ever since.

Take one cup of pomegranate juice, and place it in a jar with one cup of granulated sugar. Seal tightly and shake like hell until all of the sugar is dissolved. Add another ounce or two of sugar and repeat. Voila - a simple grenadine. [Optional: Add an ounce of high-proof vodka or grain alcohol as a preservative. You can also store this in a plastic container in the freezer; the high volume of sugar keeps it from freezing, and you can just tip out a little frigid syrup each time you need it.]

The cold process produces a grenadine that has all the bright, fresh flavor of pomegranate juice, with enough sugar to make it useful as a sweetener in cocktails such as a Jack Rose or a Bacardi cocktail. When working with drink recipes, you may need to use more of the homemade version than the recipe calls for to create the desired sweetness. This version also lacks the depth of color found in commercial varieites; if you like, add a few drops of red food coloring.

VERSION TWO - HOT PROCESS

I first came across this version on Jared Brown & Anistatia Miller’s Martini Place; a recent exchange over at Boston Cocktails got me thinking about it again, and this experiment marks the first time I’ve tried using the hot process for grenadine.

Pour two cups of POM into a saucepan. Bring to a boil, then simmer over medium-low heat until reduced by half. Add one cup of sugar, and stir until dissolved. Remove from heat and let cool; if desired, add high-proof vodka or grain alcohol as a preservative (it also keeps well, and doesn’t freeze solid, in a plastic container in the freezer).

This process produces a grenadine that has a deeper color and a richer flavor. While the cold process makes a grenadine that is fresh and light, the hot process makes a more intensely flavored end product, with a distinct “cooked” taste. It’s still not as sweet as the commercial versions, so you may need to alter the proportions in your cocktail recipes, but the rich, red color is there.

VERDICT: Hard to say — both versions are far superior to any commercial grenadine I’ve tried, and comparing the two is more a challenge for personal tastes. I find myself drawn to the fresher flavor of the cold-process grenadine, as when it’s used in a cocktail such as a Jack Rose or El Presidente, that brightness helps lift the overall flavor of the drink. (The cold process is faster and easier, too.) But the hot process is not without merit, and I can see how its deeper, more intense flavor could be useful in multiple-ingredient drinks such as a Planter’s Punch, to help the pomegranate’s flavor stand a better chance among the other ingredients.

Not to be anticlimactic about it, but both versions are worth trying. The flavor of each is different — fresher, fruitier — from the commercial version, so be prepared for the difference (you can also add a few drops of almond extract, or an ounce of orgeat, to your grenadine, for a not unpleasant variation that hews a bit closer to the flavor of the commercial brands).

Adventures in Kitchen Mixology: Pimento Dram

Just over a year ago, in an article in the New York Times Magazine, Ted Haigh–otherwise known as “Dr. Cocktail”–made a pronouncement with such certainty and determination that I had no choice but to take it as gospel. While sorting through the contents of his extensive liquor cabinet, Haigh walks the writer through some of his most significant holdings.

…Doc has over the past decade and a half steadily amassed a library of some 900 spirits and liqueurs, most of them old, many of them long defunct. They include a pre-1913 bottle of Pernod absinthe that would sell for thousands of dollars today; a 1970’s bottle of Jamaican allspice liqueur (“the most important liqueur in the world!” Doc declared); and a Prohibition-era bottle of nonalcoholic gin that had given rise to a menacing blob of phlegmy hate floating near the bottom. [emphasis mine]

[click here for Doc’s site, which contains a link for a PDF of this article]

Well, if you were a cocktail geek like me–and if you’ve read this far, then you probably are–then what would you do? You’d try to find some goddamn allspice liqueur, that’s what.

Problem is, this rare Jamaican product is not currently imported into the U.S. And since a trip to the Caribbean just isn’t in my immediate future, it looks like I’m completely out of luck.

Well, almost. True, obtaining a bottle of the authentic Wray & Nephew stuff doesn’t seem like it’s happening soon, but last February, Chuck Taggart listed a recipe for a homemade version on his site, the Gumbo Pages. (Chuck also refers to it by its other common name, Pimento Dram–pimento, of course, being the term for the allspice berries which give the liqueur its flavor, and having nothing whatsoever to do with those red things that stare up at you like the pupils of fish-eyes in your martini).

And so, after putting the project off while dealing with other mixological matters (falernum, gomme, several yet-to-be-posted experiments with ginger beer), last month I finally got the goods together and set forth to prepare my own batch of the elusive pimento dram. Here’s Chuck’s recipe, which I followed pretty much verbatim (though I did cut it in half to make a smaller amount):

Pimento Dram (a.k.a. Allspice Liqueur)

  • 2 1/4 cups 151 proof Lemon Hart Demerara rum
  • 1/2 cup whole dried allspice berries
  • 3 cups water
  • 1 1/2 pounds brown sugar

Using a mortar, coarsely crush the allspice berries and place in a jar. Cover with the rum and seal tightly. Let the mixture steep for at least 10 days, agitating it daily. [Warning: if you open the jar and sniff it at some point, you may have the urge to chuck the whole foul-smelling mess. Resist the urge–it gets better later on.]

Pour the mixture through a fine strainer, pressing on the solids to extract as much rum-spicy goodness as you can. Pour the liquid again through a coffee filter.

Make a 1:1 simple syrup using your brown sugar and water, heating and stirring until the sugar is completely dissolved. Let the syrup cool, then add it to your infused rum. Bottle it tightly in a clean, sterilized bottle, and let it rest for at least one month. [note: if you get curious while you’re bottling it–and you will–the young mixture will still taste a bit odd, with the “heat” from the high-proof rum seeming to make the mix pretty rough and unbalanced. Patience.]

After waiting a whole freaking month for the stuff to be ready, you can finally break into it and taste. Wow. Zig Zag Cafe’s archbishop of bartending, Murray Stenson, referred to pimento dram as “Christmas in a glass,” and he’s completely right–not only does the warm gentle flavor of allspice bring back just about every delightful childhood memory of the holidays, but the aged mixture tones down the rum’s rough edges, so you have a delightful spiciness with a smooth, brown-sugary base and the twinkle of hearty rum in the aftertaste.

The next step, of course, is to explore cocktails with the new creation. CocktailDB.com has ten or so, at least a couple of which I intend to try as soon as this head cold that’s been mucking up my sense of taste for the past couple of days clears up. But otherwise, I’m open for ideas.

Suggestions?

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Falernum Face-Off

A couple of weeks back, after I documented my experiment with making my own falernum, a very kind visitor to this site who happens to also live in Seattle contacted me by e-mail and offered me the remainder of a bottle of Velvet Falernum, so I could compare the commercial product to my home-made variety. Tonight I sat down and put the falernums through their paces; here’s how it turned out.

Test #1: Falernum, neat, in snifters

I poured small amounts of each of the falernums–the homemade, in the bottle on the left, and Velvet Falernum, on the right–into snifters (well, sherry glasses really, but they’ll have to do).

The homemade version had a much more subdued smell, with the mild aroma of cloves and lime, but with a certain fresh fruitiness to it. The Velvet Falernum, on the other hand, was much brighter and aromatic, with a more assertive fruit fragrance, yet the fruitiness seemed a bit more synthetic–not as fresh as in the homemade. (I should point out two things here: first, Velvet Falernum contains lime juice, while the homemade does not (I was afraid that adding fresh juice would compromise the falernum’s shelf-life); second, Velvet Falernum lists an ABV of 11 percent; I don’t know offhand what my homemade weighs in at, but I’m pretty certain it’s less than 11 percent. The increased alcohol content could play a role in the assertiveness of the aroma).

When tasting them neat, I noticed the homemade presented it’s sweetness first, with a gentle spicy finish, and a faint hint of fresh lime at the end. Velvet Falernum was a bit more savory (while still tasting just as, if not more, sweet as the homemade). The VF was tangier, but still had a fruitiness that seemed “fake” to my palate, as compared to the fresher-tasting homemade.

Test #2: Corn ‘n Oil

I previously mentioned my first experience with Corn ‘n Oil, a drink made of equal parts rum and falernum, with a dash of bitters, stirred with ice & then strained into an ice-filled glass. The C&O seemed a good candidate to let each of these falernums demonstrate how they play with others. For both drinks, I used Mount Gay Eclipse rum and Fee Bros. Old-Fashioned Aromatic Bitters.

In the Velvet Falernum C&O, the fruity flavor was dominant–there was no trace of the Cuba Libre-like taste I’d mentioned in my initial trial with this drink. The 1:1 ratio of falernum to rum still made a very sweet drink, but there was a more pronounced spiciness, I assume brought out by the bitters. Even with a full-bodied rum like Mount Gay, the falernum was dominant in the glass.

With the homemade falernum, I detected a deeper, smoother sweetness. The taste was more complex, and the flavor of the cloves in the liqueur seemed to marry with that of the spices in the bitters more thoroughly.

Test #3: add fresh lime juice to the Corn ‘n Oil

Since my homemade version doesn’t contain lime juice, I decided to level the playing field a bit by squeezing a lime wedge into the C&O containing my stuff; after tasting them side by side, I’d then add the same amount of fresh lime to the VF version.

That was it–the fresh juice brought the C&O with homemade falernum to life. The fruitiness I’d detected in the Velvet Falernum became apparent, but brighter and fresher, as you’d expect using a fresh lime. When juice was added to the Velvet version, it improved the drink, but the commercial falernum was still dominant, and at this point, not in a good way.

Test #4: blind taste test with an unsuspecting family member

Concerned I might be biased in favor of my homemade falernum, I presented the two glasses to my wife, who had no idea what was going on. After tasting each Corn ‘n Oil, with lime juice added, she pronounced the one made with domestic stuff to have a smoother sweetness to it, while the Velvet variety was more flavorful but not as pleasant, with a bitter edge to it.

Conclusion

I’m not going out of my way to shop for Velvet Falernum. Instead, I’ll be sure to give a small squeeze of lime juice to drinks I make with my homemade, to bring out that bright freshness it lacks. And, the next batch around, I’ll also add more cloves to the mix, and maybe some grated ginger, to ramp up the spiciness angle just a bit more.

Questions?

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Falernum Follies

Right off the bat, a disclaimer: I have never been to the Caribbean. The closest I’ve come is a quick overnight in Key West, so quick in fact that I didn’t even have a chance to hit a single bar. With this in mind, perhaps it’s forgivable that I’ve never tasted falernum. But, inspired by recent postings over at Slakethirst, and motivated by a desire to make new tasty things I can mix with booze and drink, I recently embarked on a falernum-making project, with no clear idea what my finished product should taste like.

First, the details: Falernum is a lightly alcoholic sweetener typically used in rum-based tropical drinks. Little is known of its origins, but commercial versions–made in Barbados and the U.S. (the latter sold as Velvet Falernum; both are sadly unavailable in Seattle)–are described as having the taste of lime, cloves, ginger, vanilla, and/or allspice. Non-alcoholic versions are available, including a bottling by Da Vinci Gourmet, made less than two miles from my home (but I’ll be damned if I can find a bottle anywhere, and principle keeps me from paying a $5 shipping fee for a $7.50 bottle of something produced within walking distance of my house).

Fortunately, recipes exist. For my batch of falernum, I turned to the guide posted by Rachel Perlow on eGullet (though I did cut this recipe in half, so as not to have my kitchen overwhelmed by a sweetener I’ve never tasted).
First, I used my trusty microplane to zest 1 1/2 limes, which I then placed in a 1/2 cup of light rum (I used Bacardi, for basic unimposing flavor / thriftiness sake) along with three cloves and a few drops of almond extract. I let the mixture steep for about 24 hours, then strained it through cheesecloth and mixed it with simple syrup–2 cups each of water and sugar (I used ordinary white cane sugar, so the flavor of demerara or turbinado wouldn’t take over the taste of the finished product.)

Results? Sweet! No, really, it’s pretty damn sweet, much moreso than I’d anticipated. Though, most drink recipes I see that call for falernum only use it in drips and drabs, much like other syrups and liqueurs, so it’ll take a few test drives to really assess the quality.

Initial runs seem promising. A first trial in a Rum Swizzle–essentially just a daiquiri with falernum used instead of sugar–produced a drink with the charming base character of the daiquiri, but with a little more depth and mystery to it, like a daiquiri’s charming cousin just in town from Havana. Additional trials in various rum punches–the kind where I start with the idea of a Planter’s Punch, then knock in some falernum or orgeat just to make things interesting–also produce pleasing results.

If I were to make this again–which will be a while, considering I have about 750ml of the stuff to work my way through–I’d probably do a couple of things different. First, I’d introduce a bit of ginger to the mix, to give it a little more zing, and maybe a couple more cloves, for general spiciness sake. Second, the sugar’s gotta be toned way down–I enjoy falernum as a sweetener, but in drinks where it’s more prominent (like the Corn ‘n Oil), the sweetness verges into toothache territory.

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