Archive for the 'Spirits' Category

Many beloved cocktails have earned their place in our hearts with thanks due to the incredible, edible egg. Classic drinks like the Ramos Gin Fizz get their special frothy texture and creamy meringue flavor from egg whites. So I was floored when I read in the New York Times, that the New York City Department of Health had been cracking down on the use of egg whites in drinks at popular cocktail establishments. While raw egg whites may make some precious sippers squeamish, the drinks simply wouldn’t be the same without them.

The issue occurred at Pegu Club, which serves a drink called the “Earl Grey MarTEAni” made with earl grey-infused gin, lemon juice, simple syrup and raw egg white. The ingredients are clearly listed on the menu, with a warning. Nevertheless, the Department of Health issued Pegu a violation requiring a court appearance, because the bartender failed to explicitly inform the customer about the raw egg whites. Pegu immediately stopped serving a drink they’d served for years, though nobody had ever gotten sick. Other bartenders chimed in with the same reports of serving egg-white- laden drinks for years, with nary a sick patron.

I’d prefer to have laws of full disclosure than to have these beloved concoctions banned entirely. But are they necessary?  How would you feel if you consumed raw egg without your knowledge? The stats say that only 1 in every 20,000 eggs is contaminated with salmonella and some argue that the alcohol in the drink knocks it out before it could cause harm. And it’s not just drinks that use raw egg whites, plenty of sauces do too. What’s next, a hollandaise hysteria?

The issue at Pegu Club made me think about some of the proposed new laws regarding wine labels.  New labeling laws may require wineries to disclose the products used in fining be they egg whites, bentonite, animal gelatin or anything else. This is already the case in Australia, where all allergens are listed on the label.

On the one hand, transparency is a good thing. People with dietary restrictions appreciate having the knowledge to make an informed buying decision. On the other hand, I sympathize with the winemaker who resists sharing too much. Wine is confusing enough to consumers, do we want to scare them away? Plus, changing the labels is expensive.

I’m not sure what the answer is, but I imagine the issue is here to stay. Where do you side? The more info, the better? Or is ignorance bliss?

Like art, music and literature, the cocktails and favored beverages of an era are often intrinsically linked to the history and culture of the time. Delve into the origins of your favorite cocktails and you’ll find a fascinating glimpse into the psyche of a bygone era. The creation of mixed drinks in particular is routinely linked to events in history.

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Halloween is upon us, and autumn, my favorite time of the year, inspires thoughts of moody evenings spent reading melancholic greats like Poe, Shelley, Lovecraft. Dark storytellers with an eye for beauty, many of these poets and novelists were also fans of fine wine and spirits—of course in some cases, to dramatic ends.

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Do different forms of alcoholic beverages give different forms of intoxicating effects? Can it be valid for people to generalize that “beer makes me stupid” and “wine makes me witty” and “Scotch makes me want to punch something” and “rum makes me want to love someone…a lot”?

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It was a somewhat stereotypical Fourth of July for me this year. Tons of good friends and some family came over for the weekend to bake at the beach, barbecue some burgers and dogs, enjoy some adult beverages and light off some mildly entertaining fireworks in the yard (the small fountain type stuff is legal in CT where I live, though we did have a couple more exciting items thanks to my crazy friend Shane). All in all it was good old, moderately clean American fun.

Of course I offered a large range of beverages, from soda and beer to wine and whisky, and it’s always interesting to me to see who goes for what.

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There was a time when I despised flavored vodkas, in theory and in practice. In practice, most of the flavors of the ones I tried, whether it was peach, lemon or vanilla, came across as bubblegummy. Fake and awful. I didn’t see the point, since bartenders can work wonders with syrups and nectars. And in theory I hated them because…why? Why clutter the retail shelves with them and shove perfectly good bottlings to oblivion? Then came the rumors of flavored Tequilas—Tequila being a personal favorite—and I really did a Munch scream: why?!

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Scotch is hot this year in New York City. I don’t know why, exactly…..but tongues are wagging about it (and slurring a few words) everywhere I go. You may recall my blog a few months back concerning the absurdly high-priced Scotch created by Macallan’s–a blend of 1945 and 1949 stocks, bottled in a specially designed Lalique bottle, available for only $1500 a pour at Del Frisco’s steakhouse in midtown Manhattan. The most absurd part of all was that I loved these precious drops…..though you won’t catch me pulling that kind of money out of my pocket anytime soon. Now comes another surprise. The very fine Greenwich Village steakhouse, Strip House, is offering an experiment in quaffing Scotch…..with steak!

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I’m practically immune to a PR disease that I’ll call the “high-end spirits promotion.” Look, I’m a simple guy. There I am in this world, bumping along, loving my simple bottle of Tequila, the one that really does taste like blue agave–when suddenly they come roaring at you, making you feel worthless unless you’re into the Extra Reserve Jimador’s Grandmother’s Añejo.” It’s dark-brown, it tastes more like brandy than tequila, and it only costs $190.

I’m sure you’ve seen the phenomenon: advertisements and geeks exhorting you to always “drink up” (2008-style), with bottles of high-end rum, Bourbon, cachaça, rye, etc. Here’s one that especially cracked me up recently, at a very upscale southern restaurant in New Orleans: I was served a “boutique moonshine.” Its pronounced flavor of kaopectate made me long for a night next to a simple backyard still, howling at the moon, avoiding the revenuers as well as any pretension.

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