Entries Tagged as 'Tequila'

The Jaguar

This past week has been one long series of ibuprofin tabs and shots of Robitussin. But it’s Friday night, dammit, and Labor Day weekend to boot, so I’m shrugging off the damn virus for a few hours to start digging in the liquor cabinet.

This drink caught my attention the moment I read the recipe. Just before I went on vacation, the lovely and talented Lauren Clark of DrinkBoston had a wonderful profile run about her in the Boston Globe. In the photo caption — which doesn’t seem to be there any longer, unless I’m looking in the wrong place — there was a note that Lauren was sipping a drink called a Jaguar at Eastern Standard. Fortunately, I copied and pasted the text, since the caption included the recipe, which sounded really intriguing.

Now I’ve finally mixed one up, and intrigue? Hell, that ain’t the half of it. The whopping dose of green Chartreuse made me a bit uncertain at first, but it was a wise move to put myself in the hands of the drink’s creator, Tom Schlesinger-Guidelli. Matched with Amer Picon — I used some of the last of my Picon replica (created by Jamie Boudreau, recipe in July/August issue of Imbibe) — and a nice measure of silver tequila, the Chartreuse fell right into place. This cocktail is really imaginative, and the orangey notes of the amer, bitters and twist give the drink a bright citrusy character, while the tequila’s bite and chartreuse’s herbal mojo give it a lot of complexity.

Nice work, Tom, and a belated congrats to Lauren. The Jaguar is a keeper.

Jaguar

Jaguar (created by Tom Schlesinger-Guidelli, Eastern Standard, Boston)

  • 1 1/2 ounces blanco tequila
  • 3/4 ounce Amer Picon
  • 3/4 ounce green Chartreuse
  • 3 dashes Fee Brothers Orange Bitters

Stir with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass; flame an orange twist over the drink.

Paloma, Mi Amante

Earlier this summer, I mentioned that I was playing with an old recipe from Charles H. Baker’s The Gentleman’s Companion, for an intriguing home-infused concoction called Tequila por Mi Amante — or, Tequila for my beloved. What I haven’t mentioned is how it turned out.

Short answer: YAAAAAHHHH! MORE! MORE! MORE!

I’d been told by reliable sources that this was an excellent recipe; they understated the case. That fresh, summery brightness of the ripe strawberries marries perfectly with the sharp, peppery angles of a reposado tequila, and the result is especially toothsome.

Even better, as I’ve discovered: substitute the TPMA for regular reposado in what’s become my favorite drink of summer 2007, the Paloma.

Strawberry tequila; lime juice; salt; grapefruit soda. I feel like I’m in one of those old Warner Brothers cartoons, in which I take a sip and then my eyes should start spinning like the dials on a slot machine until they come up “JACKPOT!” as bells start to ring, my hat flies off — not that I wear a hat, but stay with me for a moment — and steam blows out of my ears accompanied by a loud, “A-OOOH-GAH! A-OOOH-GAH!”

Yes, it’s that good.

Paloma, regular style

  • 2 ounces reposado tequila
  • juice of 1/2 a lime
  • pinch coarse salt

Add ingredients to an ice-filled Collins glass; top with grapefruit soda (Jarritos is my house brand; Squirt also has a good reputation here; if you just can’t find any, try Sprite with a healthy squeeze of fresh grapefruit).

Paloma, Mi Amante

As above, substituting Tequila por Mi Amante for the reposado. A-OOOH-GAH!

Tequila por Mi Amante

Tequila por Mi AmanteTequila por Mi Amante, or Tequila for My Beloved; Mexico City, 1937

This is a prepared beverage requiring patience and from three to four weeks.

Tequila, 1 pint
Ripe strawberries, 1 quart, cut in halves

Wash and stem the berries, put into an airtight jar or bottle, pour on enough tequila to cover. Shut tightly and stand for at least twenty-one days. Strain . . . This berry process extracts some of the raw taste, adds a rosy dawn touch. Our Mexican drinks it straight always. We opine that handled in the same way as sloe gin, discoveries would be made . . . Other fruit like wild cherries, blackberries, and so on could be tried.

The Gentleman’s Companion, Charles H. Baker, Jr., 1939

I didn’t really pay attention to measurements — just cut up some ripe berries (finer than 1/2), covered with Cazadores reposado (no particular reason — just what I had on hand), and sealed it up.

Wish me luck.

MxMo XV: Tequila

Mixology Monday: TequilaThis one made me sweat. Over the past four years or so, I’ve gone pretty much full-tilt on learning everything I can about spirits and cocktails, but when tackling such a big field, there are inevitably some holes that will need to be filled at a later time. For me, tequila is a big one of those holes.

Part of the reason for this is the price — a decent 100 percent agave tequila costs roughly twice what a bourbon, rye or rum of comparable quality does — but versatility also plays a factor. Open any typical cocktail guide, and you’ll find acres of coverage for gin, rum and whiskey, but just a smattering of recipes for tequila. If you prefer more vintage books like I do, feel lucky if you turn up a tequila cocktail at all. And when you do, it’s mostly margaritas and tequila sunrises, with the occasional Freddie Fudpucker thrown in for comic effect.

But thanks to Matt over at My Bar, Your Bar, our gracious host for this round of Mixology Monday, I’ve been forced to start exploring the world of tequila, with mostly positive results. I’ll skip over my experiments with sangrita recipes — Jimmy nailed a good one a couple of rounds back — and the lovely Prado — which Anita already mixed up for this round — and cut right to two newish tequila cocktails that seemed promising: the Sangre de Agave and the Rosebud.

The Sangre de Agave comes from David Wondrich’s Killer Cocktails, and takes the classic marriage between tequila, lime juice and creme de cassis, and knocks it silly with a firm slap of dark, heavy rum.

Sangre de Agave

  • 1 1/2 ounce reposado Tequila [Don Julio]
  • 1/2 ounce dark, heavy rum [Pusser’s]
  • 3/4 ounce lime juice
  • 1/2 ounce creme de cassis
  • 1/2 teaspoon rich simple syrup

Shake with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass

I’m reserving judgement on this one — while mixing the drink I realized two things: my limes were lousy and my cassis was kaput. Taking this into account, the drink was still pretty intriguing, with the peppery funk of the tequila coming on right away, but with that smooth, round bass note of rum giving the concoction some welcome gravitas. My crappy cassis didn’t supply the full fruity richness I was looking for, but that’s easily remedied, as is the coarse bitterness that I’m blaming on the fine-looking but nasty-tasting limes I got at Trader Joe’s. A drink to come back to with more efficient ingredients.

But I didn’t want to leave Mixology Monday on a down note — I’ve already done that — so this evening I started going through the books, looking for a lime- and cassis-free tequila cocktail that showed promise. Wisely, I started my search with The Art of the Bar: Cocktails Inspired by the Classics, a really beautiful and spectacular book by Jeff Hollinger and Rob Schwartz from Absinthe in San Francisco. I’ve had this book on the shelf for months, and I keep meaning to dig into it for a post, so what better time. Plus, I’ve got a soft spot in my jaded heart for the pitch-black musings of Citizen Kane, and the touch of bitterness in this cocktail seemed entirely appropriate.

Rosebud

  • Dash of rosewater
  • 1 1/2 ounces silver tequila
  • 1/2 ounce Carpano Antica sweet vermouth
  • Dash of Campari
  • 1 piece orange zest, about 1 1/2 inches long and 1/2 inch wide

Rinse a chilled cocktail glass with the dash of rosewater, discarding the excess. Stir the tequila and vermouth with ice and strain into the glass. Flame the orange zest over the drink (light a match and hold it above and just slightly to the side of the drink, point the zest at the flame and spray the oil through the fire onto the drink surface). Add a few drops of Campari to the surface.

Wowser. The rosewater rinse and the burnt orange oil make this a very fragrant drink, but the taste is crisp and smooth, like a martini with its collar button undone. It’s kind of deceptive — the aroma is very flowery and perfumey, with no trace of tequila’s telltale whiff of pepper, so you’re expecting the taste of a flower bomb, like a cocktail supercharged with an aromatic gin like Hendrick’s or Aviation and matched with chartreuse. Thing is, the flavor is nothing like that — the florals take a backseat to the gentle bitterness of the Antica slightly prodded by the Campari, and that bitterness meshes very well with the vegetal funk of the tequila. Nicely done — if you’re looking for a delicate tequila cocktail, this is a good candidate.

That’s my little tour of tequila for this round of Mixology Monday. Head on over to Matt’s place to see what everybody else is doing with tequila.

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