Christine Sismondo's Blog
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Chef Pilar poses with the students of Toronto's George Brown Chefs' School.
In the past, I’ve written about Mexico as a bit of a hidden gem for culinary tourism.
It’s my feeling that it is so often overlooked because so many have written off Mexican food as coarse or spicy when, in fact, the reality is quite the opposite. If you can get past the bad tex-mex restaurants and, instead, put a little energy into discovering real Mexican cuisine, you’re likely to discover some of the most innovative ingredients combined in perfect balance. Add to that free-range, farm-fresh ingredients and just caught seafood and you have one of the better food destinations in the world.
Of course, the cuisine differs – radically – from region to region. And of all, Oaxaca stands out as one of the most unique – mainly because of the moles. Contrary to common belief, however, the whole mole experience is not simply a piece of chicken drenched in chocolate sauce. Although that (pollo con mole – usually made with mole negro or rojo) is the most commonly exported, there are at least nine different mole sauces of which I’m aware. Only one has an overwhelming chocolate flavour. At least one restaurant in Oaxaca City boasts dishes made with seven moles – enough to make you want to go back and eat there every day until you’ve had ‘em all.
Even this characterization, however, is a superficial account of Oaxacan cuisine. And on a recent trip to Toronto, chef Pilar Cabrera Arroyo, owner of the legendary La Olla restaurant in Oaxaca City and one of Mexico’s more famous chefs, took pains to correct this perception and defy expectations.
Chef Pilar spent an entire month here, acting as a culinary ambassador and cooking up a storm at different venues throughout the city. I caught up with her on her very last night – at George Brown College’s Chef House, where she taught the budding chefs to cook Oaxacan style.
Sopa Tehuana- with shrimp and jalapeno.
Wholly uninformed about the evening menu, I was expecting at least three different types of mole. Incidentally, so was the couple I was sitting next to and, I’m sure, many of the guests. What arrived instead was, though, better. Chef Pilar surprised us by treating us to a fantastic jalapeno shrimp soup with tortillas, a traditional Huatulco-style red snapper and a first-rate flan. Oh, and I nearly forgot to mention, it all started with a shot of a mezcal, lime and grenadine concoction in a glass rimmed with sal de gusano (worm salt).
Worm salt may not sound like the next hot rimmer for the nation’s cocktails but, honestly, I wouldn’t design a mezcal cocktail without it, since the gusano worm is naturally paired with this liquor – often found in the bottom of mezcal bottles since it hangs out on the agave plants used to make the liquor. And, you heard it from me first, mezcal cocktails will eventually take off here in Toronto, even if I have to open a bar to make it happen.
An Isthmus style red snapper & black bean tinted rice is plated by Chef Pilar and new friend.
What came through loud and clear at the sold out Chef’s House event was how enthusiastic Torontonians are about the chance to try new things – especially Chef Pilar’s famed Oaxacan food. We’re a curious and adventurous lot, turned off neither by the prospect of chocolate-covered chicken nor worm salt. And Chef Pilar was obviously touched by the tremendous reception she had at George Brown and night after night, cooking at various venues across Toronto. In exchange, Chef Pilar got a chance to try some of Toronto’s truly terrific global offerings and was herself enthused by the diverse and adventurous food culture.
“While I was here, I had a chance to try Ethiopian, Chinese, Indian and Thai food,” Explained Chef Pilar, “It was the first time I’d had such variety all in one place.”
And, of course, she found these global influences present in the student’s styles at George Brown House, too.
“It’s a great school – great for me, too. Now I have a lot of new ideas, which when I get home I’ll try cooking for my family, friends and, of course all the chefs in the area,” said Pilar.
We finished off with a Café de Olla, Chef Pilar’s signature version of a Mexican staple, something which many of the Mexican ex-pats complain is hard to find in Toronto. Café de Olla is made in earthenware pots, from which some of the flavour is supposed to come. Other than that more esoteric aspect, it’s essentially a strong coffee flavoured with a rich cinnamon, brown sugar and anise.
It was the spicy finish the evening needed. Still, it stirred up those latent mole cravings I live with – my dark passenger. Now I spend unhealthy portions of my work day looking for flights.
Well, there are worse things. And with blizzard season approaching, it’s nice to have an excuse.
Photos: Mary Luz Mejia & Christine Sismondo
Posted by Christine Sismondo at 10:42 AM 0 Comment(s)
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The Yucatán is not the land of tequila. I know, because I’ve been to the land of tequila – Jalisco. And it was everything I had dreamed of – and more. But, in our travels through Mexico, we’ve discovered that there’s more to the drinks than simply the highly touted and most famous product. Even in Jalisco, for example, we sampled the local Raicilla (in addition to the tequila, of course). In Oaxaca we drank Mezcal. In Colima we drank a wide range of flavoured mezcal creams, which sound hideous but were actually pretty good. In the Yucatán, though, we knew what we were after: licor de henequen.
Henequen, often referred to as Sisal in this area because of the northern port city from which it was shipped, was the main crop in the Yucatán until relatively recently. The area’s wealth in colonial times was built on henequen and, it’s worth pointing out, on the backs of the Mayan and, later, Korean slaves who picked it for the wealthy colonial plantation owners. It was an important crop because its stiff fibres were used for rope and twine. Sisal is the hemp of the Yucatán.
Recently, though, the locals have figured out a new use for the henequen – turning it into a liquor. This is the kind of creative spirit we most admire: from fibre to fire-water. Licor de henequen closely resembles both Mezcal and tequila, naturally, since the plants from which all these spirits are made are nearly identical. The main difference between tequila and the others is that it comes from the blue agave plant, distinct from the garden-variety plain old green ones. The processing for all of these Mexican liquors is also pretty similar. The pina (core) of the plant must be harvested, roasted, fermented and, later, distilled. The distinction between one product and the next is largely a terroir debate. Certain areas have distinct appellations – just like wine regions.
For an upstart, Sisal, the biggest brand we could find of licor de henequen was quite lovely. The Blanco compares favourably to a good silver tequila – although it’s not as refined, obviously, as the first-rate blue agave products. It has a slightly more viscous mouthfeel than I am expecting but is light and tangy.
It would do quite well in a margarita, of which there were, it so happened, quite a few good ones in the Yucatán. It’s a drink you associate a little more with the west coast but, since just about every restaurant in all of Mexico uses absolutely fresh citrus, even in places where the margarita isn’t a house specialty, it’s still miles above your average one in Toronto.
A mixologist could have a lot of fun in the Yucatán, with their freshness and variety. At lunch, some members of our party sipped Horchata, a lovely, light “agua fresca” made from rice, sugar and almonds. The other two main flavours for non-alcoholic pops in Mexico are hibiscus flower pop (Jamaica) and Tamarindo – a tamarind flavoured pop, which they already add to Margaritas quite frequently.
What I’d like to have seen would have been a margarita made with Sisal, fresh lime, agave syrup and two drops of Xtabentun, a local liqueur made with anise and the honey of bees that have allegedly dined on the nectar of the region’s Xtabentun flowers. (Good honey is abundant in the area and, bit of trivia, we heard that they use a species of bees which doesn’t have the power to sting people.)
But back to Xtabentun, which is ever so slightly sweet for my tastes, which is why I would choose to use it as an aromatic enhancer to a cocktail or soup, in the same way that Pernod or Absinthe is often used, rather than taken straight. The only time I actually saw Xtabentun used was when I had a Mayan coffee at Pancho’s in Mérida, where the waiters served up our after dinner boozy coffee in what I would call “Blue Blazer” style, pouring flaming liqueurs back and forth from one vessel to the next as the father of mixology, Jerry Thomas did in the mid-nineteenth century.
My photos don’t do it justice, so here is a link to a You Tube video of somebody who captured the preparation in its full glory.
It was a great coffee. But the best hot chocolate I have ever had was in Mérida, so I can’t resist ordering it. The Mayans, after all, are credited with inventing hot chocolate by processing cacoa and turning it into the era’s energy drink of choice by mixing it with chile, achiote and vanilla. It was such a hot commodity that the beans were often used as currency in ancient Mayan days. Although the oldest evidence of cacoa use was in Honduras, it’s clear that Mayans in nearby Guatemala were drinking chocolate at least as far back as 2,500 years ago.
As you might expect, their chocolate is not the same as ours. It’s got a unique taste and is typically a little more dry and certainly less sweet than, say, a Hershey Milk. I spent a little bit of time in Mérida’s museum-themed chocolate shop, Ki'Xocolatl, sampling chocolate-covered espresso beans and dark chocolate bars with hot chile, instead of crisped rice. The taste isn’t entirely like the stuff we’ve had in Chiapas and Oaxaca, although this may be a result of the Belgian expertise involved in Ki'Xocolatl. I actually wind up spending more money in this store than I do in the liquor store. Not like me – but the spicy, bitter flavour of the region’s offerings is definitely my cup of tea, er, cocoa.
Anyhow, these are not the usual pleasures in which people partake on their visit to the Yucatan. Cuervo shots and Cadillac Margaritas are obviously as far as many get. I think that’s a mistake and urge people to take a shot at heading a little further past Chichen Itza on their next trip to the Mayan Riviera.
Your taste buds will thank you. Oh, and I’m pretty sure there’s other stuff to do there to – like ruins practically wherever you turn, brilliant live music and breathtaking colonial buildings – but that’s all a bit of a blur.
Posted by Christine Sismondo at 10:03 PM 0 Comment(s)
Thursday, July 23, 2009
When it comes to gastro-tourism, people tend to think France. After that, they might consider Italy, New York, even New Orleans. But probably not Mexico.
That’s a shame because Mexico boasts some of the most varied cuisine you’ll ever find within a single country’s borders. In addition, some of the most ardent preservation of traditional foodways is to be found here, too.
This is especially true in the Yucatán, where people make a surprising majority of dishes in the exact same way their grandparents prepared them. You might put this down to the fact that it’s a somewhat isolated peninsula but, at the same time, given its numerous seaports, the Yucatán has integrated the influence of diverse cultures time after time. You can find traces of them layered in its modern cuisine – like a seven-layer dip. Only with more layers. And actually Mexican (the seven-layer dip isn’t).
The Yucatán peninsula is best known for housing Cancun, popular with the yung’uns, and the Riviera Maya, a well-known wedding and honeymoon destination. Those who venture inland generally make it precisely as far as Chichen Itza, the region’s most commonly visited Mayan ruin, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
To be fair to the hordes, Chichen Itza is a must-see. But so, in my opinion, is Valladolid, Mérida, Campeche and Progreso – three gorgeous colonial towns and one beach-side town within an hour or two of the famous ruins. And part of the reason I consider them a must is because of the way they showcase the region’s food.
Aside from the seven-layer dip being of Mexican origin, there are a lot of other misconceptions about Mexican food. Let’s clear a few up:
Myth #1 The food is spicy.
Not unless you want it to be. Many restaurants in the Yucatán offer a side of habanero salsa on the table, which is to be taken seriously. The habanero is one of the hottest peppers on the planet – although, I think its close relative, the Scotch Bonnet, is a wee bit hotter. Other than that, most Yucatecan food is actually on the bland side for real heat lovers.
Myth #2 All Mexican food is a variant on beans, rice, cheese and ground beef wrapped in a tortilla and covered in sour cream. It’s generally deep-fried and fatty.
That’s Tex-Mex food. Hard (but not impossible) to find in Mexico.
Myth #3 People who work in restaurants in Mexico all wear sombreros.
I refer you to the answer to Myth #2. I think most of us (especially those reading this site) are past most of these misconceptions. When Mexican food took on a global profile in the 1970s and some version of it spread through Chi Chi’s and Old El Paso fixings for the home, its image was pure youthiness. Mexican food was “fun food” which involved mispronouncing made-up names like “Chimichanga,” eating with your hands instead of the fork your mother insisted upon and trying to figure out the secret behind deep fried ice cream. (Hint: it’s breaded and deep-fried.)
Anyhow, the reality of Mexican food is radically different. For starters, it’s a large country with fairly distinct regional food traditions. The Yucatán happens to be one of my favourite food regions, since, as mentioned before, it’s a unique culinary area in a relatively isolated peninsula with traditional foodways you don’t find elsewhere.
Entradas
To begin, a lot of people order the soup. It seems a strange choice for an area which never really gets much colder than, say, 18 degrees and often hits 40 in the summer, but, as you may have noticed, people acclimatized to the heat deal with it differently. In tropical areas, you rarely see the locals chugging bottled water and eschewing hot food. I have a feeling they’re on to something and, therefore, always have a Sopa de Lima in 40-degree heat.
Sopa de Lima (lime soup) is served throughout the Yucatán. It’s a chicken soup with tortillas, tomato, chile and, of course, lime juice. They use Persian limes, which produce a tangy, tart juice. When I first tried this soup, 10 years ago in Valladolid, the thing that blew me away was the chicken. It was amazing – it actually tasted like chicken – something I hadn’t tasted for as long as I could remember. My partner in gastro and alco-tourism commented that it had to be a result of the freshness; a few miles back, we had nearly run over a chicken. We speculated that we were eating not within the highly touted 100 miles but, in fact, adhering to a five-mile diet. Of course we had to fly a few thousand to accomplish that.
On our recent trip to Valladolid, our renaissance guide, Señor Humberto Gomez, knowledgeable on all things food (and Mayan history and a number of other things) lamented the new generation of cooks who may have fresh chicken but often now use bouillon cubes for their stock. Señor Gomez tells us his mother still makes it the proper way.
Another delicious soup is Crema de Cilantro, which didn’t come up with the Mayans, since cilantro didn’t make it to North America ‘til about the 1670s. But to talk about food traditions as though they’re static is the height of stupidity. Innovations travel fast and, yesterday’s import is tomorrow’s tradition. Plus, cream of cilantro, made with onion, garlic, leeks, carrots and bunches of cilantro, is a lovely soup.
For those who prefer not to consume hot soups in the heat, there are other appetizers available. Panuchos and Salbutes are common starters: both are crispy tortillas topped with chicken and minced red onion which has been pickled in sour orange – a ubiquitous relish on Yucatecan tables.
If you’re looking for something that resembles the fare at the 1980s and 90s Mexican restaurants of your youth, Papdzules almost fit the bill. Hard boiled eggs are wrapped in soft tortilla and covered in pumpkin and tomato sauces. Okay, you’re not going to find that in Chi Chi’s either but it looks a little like what we were all introduced to as “enchiladas” back in the day.
What they call pumpkin (it’s really squash) is everywhere in the Yucatán. At a traditional outdoor grill on the outskirts of Mérida called Rey Pakal, we were treated to ziquil pac, a phenomenal dip made with tomato, coriander and pumpkin.
I can’t that I’m as motivated to reproduce the Queso Relleno (stuffed cheese), even though Sr. Gomez told the story of how it came to be a Yucatecan classic with great relish. Apparently, Edam cheese was imported quite regularly and so became a common local treat. At some point, somebody thought to slice the top off the round of cheese, hollow it out, and stuff it with sautéed ground pork, onions, olives, raisins, capers, hard boiled egg whites, pureed tomato, chiles and cloves. After the lid is put back on, it’s steamed over medium heat until the cheese softens. It is then served with a cheese sauce made from its hollowed out innards.
Well, it’s certainly innovative. And it was popular at our table. Maybe just not my kettle of fish.
Pescado
The fresh fish and seafood, on the other hand, was precisely what belonged in my kettle. I waited until we got to Celestún, a little town in the midst of a biosphere reserve which is home to some 30,000 flamingos, before I delved into the seafood – and it was worth the wait. About 6,000 people live in Celestún, although the population grows during octopus season and, also during the tourist season, when people flock to take boat trips up the Rio Lagartos to see the flamingos.
In addition, though, is some first-rate seafood in town. How much is locally caught is hard to discern. There’s a neophyte shrimp farm industry burgeoning in the area, although we were told that the best shrimp (wild-caught or otherwise) is all earmarked for foreign markets. Our host told us that if he wants nice, big shrimp for a dinner party he goes to the packing plants and buys it before it has a chance to be shipped. And, indeed, the shrimp at most of the local restaurants is miniscule.
The octopus, we believe, is local. And at our restaurant, Los Pompanos, the Platonic ideal of a fish palapa (hut) on a quiet white sand beach, we were served some very tender pulpo, defying the complaints of the many who generally find it too tough and rubbery.
In addition, perhaps the greatest, simple fish and crab ceviches I had ever eaten were served at our table in Celestún. Mexican ceviche is a little different from Peruvian or Ecuadorian, in that the fish is generally very finely chopped and served with tostadas, not potato, saltines or popcorn as it is in some places. Other than that, it’s the standard minced onion, cilantro, lime and chile.
The Gulf is said to be abundant with grouper and snapper, although it’s hard to imagine that the area is such an exception to the generally emptied seas rule. With this, our table turned to the subject of sharks, as three people ordered Pan de Cazón, a traditional dish made of baby shark meat layered with tomatoes, beans, bouillon and tortillas, to make something which translates into English as Shark Cakes.
Cena
Yucatán was once known as the land of pheasant and deer, presumably by the folks who came and ate it all.
As a result, there’s a notable lack of venison and pheasant to be found on the menu. Hard to complain, though, since they’ve been replaced with abundant pork and turkey, generally under the monikers Cochinita Pibil or Pollo Pibil. These are the most ubiquitous classic Yucatecan dishes, prepared according to Mayan techniques, from back when almost all meat was cooked in pits filled with hot coal. Pork, chicken or turkey is first marinated in bitter orange juice, covered in achiote – a paste made from the red annatto seed which also acts to seal the juices in, wrapped in banana leaves and put in the pit for several hours. Truth be told, some of the region’s Pibil is now cooked in the oven.
Although this cooking technique has changed over time, the remarkable thing about a lot of food preparation and cultivation in the Yucatán is how much has been retained. Ninety per cent of the region’s agriculture is still traditional and takes place on small, family-owned farms. The majority of people farm exactly the same way their ancestors did.
Not that Yucatecan cuisine has been set in stone since the time of the Maya, though. Waves of immigration have brought culinary exchange – just like everywhere else. First (and most dramatically) was the invasion of the Spaniards, who brought with them cilantro, potatoes and black pepper. But that wasn’t the end of the evolution of the Yucatán’s mestizo (mixed ancestry) cuisine. Dutch traders left behind the Edam cheese they love so much; in 1905, over a thousand Koreans came to the region, having been tricked into signing up for indentured labour, who brought their own traditions and spices and, between 1880 and 1930, there was a huge influx of Lebanese refugees, who brought with them kibbe and similar Mediterranean dishes to the area. It makes me wonder about the provenance of that pumpkin seed cilantro dip, about which I can find almost no information.
We’d be remiss not to mention that there is, of course, a new influence on the cuisine – American. Hamburgers and fast food have been around on tourist menus forever, of course, but I hadn’t remembered Chili’s and Bennigan’s, both of which exist, unsurprisingly, near the large American hotels in Mérida.
But we didn’t go to either of them. Instead, we ate Pavo en Relleno Negro, an exquisitely cooked turkey and egg dish covered in a black sauce made primarily of chile arbol. At first, you’d almost think you were eating a mole but it has a distinct flavour from the rich sauces you’d find in Oaxaca. Beef is usually also available – I’ve had a few nice carne asadas in the area – but the most spectacular meals are those which build on the nearly ancient traditions of the region, and use the area’s most cherished ingredients: corn, fresh eggs, small farm-raised free range chicken and turkey and corn-fed pigs. In my experience, you can’t go wrong with any of those.
Next week: Drinks and Desserts in the Yucatan. Hint: The Mayans invented chocolate.
Posted by Christine Sismondo at 5:54 PM 1 Comment(s)
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Making a
grand splash in the cocktail world this week is a place where, funnily enough, there's no liquid to splash around. Well, that's not precisely true. As you can see from the picture, you're perfectly welcome to drink the old fashioned way while you absorb alcohol through your pores the new fashioned way.
My ambivalence, I'm sure, is shared by many. It's a neat gimmick and it's likely a lot of people will want to try it once, sort of like the way we must all try a deep-fried twinkie - just so we
know. And the smell of gin and lime is probably terrific. On the other hand, it's simply wrong to take the drinking part out of drinking. And I don't just mean absorbing gin and tonic vapours. I think it's wrong to turn alcohol into marshmallows, cakes, solids, jellies and all the rest of that sordid lot. An occasional foam, maybe. Truth be told, however, an old fashioned foam on the top of, say, a Tom Collins or a Ramos Gin Fizz made properly with a shaker, seems just as good to me as the foam that comes out of my isi siphon or whipper. Obviously, I'm not a huge molecular guy and would far prefer to drink at a pre-prohibition bar or even a really good tiki joint.
I want a drink to taste like a drink, feel like a drink and look like a drink.
That said, I feel there's a place for molecular stuff if it excites people and gets people thinking about the fundamentals. Which it has. On the other hand, turning drinks into desserts is a little too reminiscent of alco-pops and that whole embarrassing vodka era we just barely made it out of. Vodka defenders, calm down. There's nothing wrong with a little vodka here or there (especially in combination with clamato). It's just that those "martinis" were merely diabetic-coma inducing alcohol delivery vehicles. A way for people who don't like the taste of alcohol to get drunk.
Not that I have anything against getting drunk, either. It's pretty unfashionable to say so, I know, but I am one of the brave few who will admit that getting high can be fun. So I don't really have anything against people who just want to absorb alcohol in vapour, jelly or Candy-tini form, it's just that I don't know why they bother. Why not just take a percocet instead? Probably cheaper and I don't think there's a hangover involved. Lower in calories and, I'm guessing, does about the same damage to the liver.
Then they would leave the drinking to those of us who still have romantic notions about stiff drinks made with brown liquors. The bars would be a lot less crowded and, to paraphrase Heywood Broun, you wouldn't have to make your way through a crowd of schoolgirls to get your drink.
Posted by Christine Sismondo at 1:23 PM 0 Comment(s)
Saturday, December 13, 2008
I've been pretty harsh about the Toronto cocktail scene in the past. But the truth is that, in general, cocktails in this burg are terrible. I've been disappointed so often by rumors of real drinks, only to get out and be confronted with a Vodka Pom-tini (or worse). So I rarely bite anymore and, therefore, it takes me forever to get to the new bait.
I may be cranky, but I'm also fast to admit when I'm wrong. Last week, very late at night, my partner in drinking crime and two of his friends finally decided to give Sidecar a try. I was, of course, aware oof its presence but unwilling to have my spirits dashed again. Anyhow, after a raucous retirement party in a bad sports bar, we were lubricated enough to try something new. I'm glad we did. It was about the best Toronto bar experience I've ever had. I started with the Jiggy Jiggy to start (Jamaican rum, lime and ginger beer) and am happy to say that it was an excellent version of some drinks I love in the Mule/Buck family. Still, that's an easy one to master so I reserved final judgment until we'd tried a few of the offerings. Members of our party enjoyed the Tangerine Sidecar (a slight update on the classic drink), the Deconstructed Caesar (reminiscent of the tequila-sangrita combo I love in Mexico, only made with house cucumber infused vodka instead) and the Badass Mojito thoroughly.
We were on to the next round at an alarming rate. It was roughly at this point that barman and owner Bill Sweete started to suspect that we were pretty advanced drinkers, despite our slightly sloppy state. When I asked about his use of egg whites and identified a Mexican pepper in the Thai Ginger Lemonade, our cover was totally blown.
It takes a pro bartender to know a pro drinker and, I have to say, that's what impressed me more than anything about Sidecar. Sweete's execution is flawless, he takes obvious pride in his finely crafted cocktails and is incredibly knowledgeable, approachable, courteous and customer-service oriented. I have never seen this at this level before in Toronto. It's exactly the sort of service we've come to appreciate in Seattle, New York, San Francisco and the better bars of Boston.
There are a few other people working on this sort of thing here in Toronto. Brock Shepherd, of course, works with infusions and molecular mixology at Rice Bar and there are rumours of two new places on Queen. I'm sceptical of the latter two, of course, but now that I've been proved wrong once, I'm willing to experiment with the newcomers - eventually. I'll let you know the results, of course.
In the meantime, if you love a good cocktail and would like to be treated to some uncharacteristically professional service in Toronto, get to Sidecar (577 College) post haste.
Cheers.
Posted by Christine Sismondo at 7:28 PM 0 Comment(s)
Thursday, November 27, 2008
I found an item on Gawker about
Bush falling off the wagon. That, in itself, was predictable. No longer having to satisfy the evangelicals who put him in power, Bush was bound to go back to his pre-candidacy ways. There was a time, believe it or not, when the guy claimed to be pretty socially liberal...
But I digress. The point is that the president officially and publicly fell off the wagon in Peru yesterday with a Pisco Sour.
Only the perfect drink with which to resume a drinking life. Light and fresh, the Pisco Sour is the most refined and subtle member of the Sour family - a family I spend a lot of time with. There is a lot of speculation that he drank just to avoid an international incident but I think it's hard to look a Pisco sour in the eye and not drink it.
In case you want to mimic the president's new found drinking ways, I'm going to recommend the purchase of Macchu Pisco (if you're shopping at the LCBO). Make sure to steer clear of "Control" - the only Pisco we were allowed to buy for many years.
Pisco Sour
2 oz pisco
1/2 egg white
1 oz lime juice
1 tsp superfine sugar (or more - you can adjust for sweetness)
Shake well with ice. Strain into chilled glass. Some people add a dash or two of bitters at the end - quite lovely either way. You can also play around with simple syrup or agave syrup as a sweetener, if you wish.
The Pisco Sour has an interesting history and there is an ongoing debate as to which country (Peru or Chile) properly lays claim to Pisco as its national drink. This is the sort of neat-o stuff you could find in my book,
Mondo Cocktail: A Shaken and Stirred History.
Posted by Christine Sismondo at 12:19 PM 0 Comment(s)
Monday, November 10, 2008
It was only a matter of time. Nay, come to think of it, I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier.
A bartender in Bermuda has created an "Obama cocktail."
It looks kind of hideous (layers of white, radioactive red and blazing blue) but the red, it seems, comes from real blended strawberries, as opposed to the grenadine most bartenders might have fallen back on. The blue, I'm afraid, is blue caracao, which is unsurprising. There aren't many ways to get blue into a cocktail.
Of course, a quick google reveals that this is not the first.
At Plan B in Chicago, they have a Ciroc Obama, which is made of Ciroc vodka. lemonade and Chambord. I'd rather drink the Bermuda version - at least it's made with rum (and tasy Black Seal rum at that!).
Although Obama admits to having been a drinker and a smoker in the past, he doesn't look to me like a guy with a lot of time for drinks anymore. What with being the new leader of the free world and taking care of all those new puppies, not a lot of room for a hangover. But I will devote the rest of my days to trying to learn the answer to this important question: What does Obama like to drink?
This just in: There are probably hundreds of Obama signature cocktails which were created on November 4th at house parties and bars, I realized after a reader wrote to tell me about "Barack's Fizz". (A much better name, I think.)
Says our reader:
"We toasted Obama's victory with a tribute cocktail of our own devising, a variation on Buck's Fizz that is also champagne-based, but substitutes orange with pineapple juice in recognition of his birthplace, Hawaii. It is named Barack's Fizz, for which we currently retain all international rights, but are willing to release into the public domain in the new president's spirit of inclusion, so that no drinker may be left behind."
"Actually, we also used Prosecco."
We invite readers to send us their Obama recipes.
Posted by Christine Sismondo at 2:56 PM 0 Comment(s)
Monday, November 03, 2008
On the last episode of
Mad Men, Betty went to a bar and picked some fellow up. Now, whether or not we approve of her infidelity, we have to approve of her drink choice -
the Gimlet.
It's the perfect drink for a recession. It's been a symbol of the downtrodden ever since Raymond Chandler made it a fixture in his characters' hands. Before that, it was the distinguished choice of the sailors of the English navy.
Now, there's a lot of debate over how this drink should be made. Some people want to tart it up with new, hip ingredients like rose water and fresh lime. I say: "No way." This is one of the very few drinks I think is actually better made with a bottled ingredient. I do it the way Chandler did: half gin and half Rose's lime cordial. I use Plymouth for this drink, by the way.
Chandler, by the way, ordered lime cordial by the case to his house, so he was writing what he knew. Of course, I don't think it ended well for Ray. And I don't think things are going to wind up too well for Betty, either, so maybe don't go overboard with this drink. It's pretty sweet and packs a real wallop.
But a two-ounce cocktail can be made at home for about $2. Can't beat that.
Posted by Christine Sismondo at 12:01 PM 0 Comment(s)
Monday, October 27, 2008
So, here's the thing. Over in the Drink section, there's a
good little article about recession drinking in which I declare (surprise, surprise) that hard liquor is in. It's been my intention to follow up on the theme here on the blog with some recipes and ideas for how to stretch your drinking dollar.
I've been thinking about the Old Fashioned a lot lately. I hijacked my local bar and made a bunch a couple of months ago and am always amazed at how much people are surprised by them. Great drink. Plus, it's back in the news lately 'cause Don Draper drinks them once in a while. I don't know if you've heard, but "drinking along with Mad Men" is quite the popular new drinking game. It's an obvious one: every time a character has a swig, so do you. We've adapted the game to make it a little more interesting: every time nothing happens, we take a drink. There's a lot of nothing happening on that Mad Men, the slowest moving show on the planet (sorry, not a fan). As a result, Monday mornings are pretty awful for me, generally.
But I digress. If you want to make an Old Fashioned, here's what you do: Put a sugar cube in the bottom of a glass (Old Fashioned, obviously) and sprinkle bitters on it. Add a little (tiny) swish of warm water and stir or muddle or whatever you got to do to get it dissolved. Then build with ice about three quarters of the way to the rim and fill with a couple of shots of Wild Turkey or something along those lines. Garnish with orange slice and maybe a bourbon-soaked cherry or two. You may need to bitter it up a little more to suit your sophisticated taste.
That ought to hold you for a night or two. Next post, we'll be examining what the Mad Women drink.
Posted by Christine Sismondo at 1:01 PM 0 Comment(s)
Thursday, October 16, 2008
There are times when we truly regret not having taken off to Manhattan as a young twenty-something in search of a dumpy little Alphabet City space. It would have been okay to have been poor in New York at a younger age. Now, well, not so much.
Especially since the alternate poor Manhattan me wouldn't be able to afford the $14 cocktails at Apothéke, whose opening is the occasion for my most recent moment of cocktail envy.
Now, since I don't live there, I can't possibly tell you if it's as good as it seems. But we can make some educated guesses.
Thrillist reports that the drinks are categorized according to a neat taxonomy: Aphrodisiacs (champagne and cognacs), Pain Killers (tequilas and spices), Stress Relievers (incorporating lavender, sage, etc), and the cucumber/rose-water inflected category Health & Beauty.
Looking at the list, I am struck by the number of problems I suddenly have, all requiring cures from said categories. (Well, maybe I can live with my stress and without drinks made with the dreaded lavender – an overrated cocktail ingredient if there ever was one.)
While New York may be one of a handful of cities which could sustain a new $14 cocktail bar in the midst of a financial crisis, we wonder a little about the other off-putting door policies: VIP keys for friends and family, tight reservations after 10pm and rumours of bloggers being told there was a minimum $1000 table charge.
Posted by Christine Sismondo at 7:19 AM 0 Comment(s)