Category: Drink

Lighten up your wines with a little fizz

The kids will soon be returning to school, but that doesn’t mean summer is over! Summer is a mindset, and if we truly work at it, we can have summer last until the beginning of October. Let’s be realistic! This summer we have experienced some record temperatures and drought conditions. And there doesn’t appear to be an end in sight, anytime soon. What does this mean? We can continue to enjoy our patios and decks, and meals from the grill with ingredients that came from the farmers markets, such as zucchini, fresh corn, paired to fish and chicken. Or we can enjoy those fresh tomatoes in salads or gazpacho!

What better beverage to enjoy with these light meals than spritzers?

What are spritzers, and where did they come from, and what have they become? One story is that they originated with the mid-19th-century occupation of Venice by the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Troops stationed in Venice sought to soften their wine by adding a “splash or spritz” of recently invented carbonated water, or soda water. Venetians embraced this and substituted prosecco for some of the soda water, adding slices of citrus — oranges, lemons and limes. This was expanded with the introduction of Aperol to the mix. Whether or not there is truth in this historical account matters not. The evolution of this concoction continues, much to our delight, because no matter how you drink a spritzer, whether traditionally over ice, or as an Aperol Spritz, it a delicious way to cool off during the summer.

Our first beverage is a nod to what is traditionally thought of as the true spritzer: white wine, soda water, sliced citrus fruit, all served on ice. We chose the 2017 Bonny Doon Vineyard Le Cigare Blanc Beeswax Vineyard Arroyo Seco, available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets, originally priced at $26, reduced to $12.99. A blend of 55 percent grenache blanc and 45 percent roussanne, it has a lemon-yellow color with a slight green tinge. To the nose, one would expect citric notes, but this wine has herbal notes, as well. To the tongue, the wine maintains those citric rind notes but there is also the addition of quince with a slight nuance of melon. It is a wine that can handle the addition of orange and lime slices and has enough body to accept the addition of seltzer and still hold a presence. This wine hails from the Beeswax Vineyard in the Arroyo Seco region of Monterey County, east of the Santa Lucia Mountains and north of King City, California. The Santa Lucia Mountains shield this area from the cool Pacific Coast winds, resulting in vines with exceedingly deep roots, imparting a minerality to the wine not found in the grapes grown on the ocean side of the mountainous range.

Our second beverage is a novel creation, the Domaine Chandon Garden Spritz, available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets at $20.99. The wine is a blend of chardonnay, pinot noir and semillon grapes grown at an altitude of 3,000 feet at their estate in Mendoza, Argentina. It is made by the slow-ferment long Charmat method, trapping the naturally occurring carbonation in large steel tanks. Bitters made from the zest of Valencia oranges, steeped in grape brandy, to which Quassia amara, chamomile, cardamom, and black pepper are added, result in this delightfully unique and refreshing sparkling wine cocktail. Domaine Chandon is marketing this concoction as a spritzer. Perhaps a bit of a reach, it is nonetheless worth trying, poured over ice with a citrus garnish. At 11.5 percent alcohol, it is more alcoholic than the spritzer made with seltzer, resulting in a fuller feel to the mouth of its citric notes, spiciness and sweetness, along with the bitterness of liquor made from the oranges and amara. This is definitely a thirst-quencher that is summer “light and bright.” This is a creation that begs to be tried before summer leaves us and the air becomes crisp with shorter days and crisp nights.

So, personalize your favorite white wine by turning it into a summer-light spritzer, or try this industry pioneer, the Garden Spritz. After all, summer in New Hampshire is way too short to not enjoy it to its fullest with these wonders of the palate.

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.

A man walks into a bar with a pineapple on his head.

The bartender asks, “Hey, what’s with the pineapple?”

The man says, “It’s Tuesday; I always wear a pineapple on Tuesday.”

The bartender thinks for a second, then points out, “Yeah, but it’s Thursday.”

The Pineapple Man slaps his palm to his face and groans. “Ugh! I can’t believe this; I’m so embarrassed.”

Did you find that joke a little frustrating and confusing? Welcome to the World of Pineapple.

Most of us have been there. You’ll be working your way through the supermarket, trying to decide what to make for dinner tomorrow night.

(You’ll probably go with meet-loaf. You spell it like that because you generally improvise it. Your mother never used a recipe for meatloaf, and pride or stubbornness or something keeps you from looking up an actual recipe for it, so you’ll end up winging it. Again. And like always, your husband or girlfriend will look at the vaguely loaf-shaped dish placed in front of them and ask, “Are you sure this is meatloaf?” And you’ll answer like you always do, “Yes, absolutely. Honey, meet Loaf.” It’s little traditions like this that relationships are founded on.)

Anyway, you’ll be walking through the produce section, eyeing the cilantro suspiciously, when your attention will be grabbed by a giant display of fresh pineapples. Overtaken by the Spirit of the Islands — Oahu, Easter, Coney: one of the islands — you will impulsively decide to buy one.

Until you pick it up and realize that you have no idea how to pick out a good one.

There is a lot of advice out there for picking a ripe pineapple and most of it is iffy at best. You’ll hear that you should try to pull one of the leaves out, or squeeze it, or heft it in your hand to see if it feels heavy for its size. (If you don’t know how to pick out a pineapple, how in the world are you supposed to decide if it’s heavy or not?)

In reality, your best options are to go by color and smell.

Color: Get the pineapple that is the closest to a shade of golden-orange as possible. This can occasionally be deceptive, but the deeper a shade of green a pineapple is, the more likely it is to be underripe.

A better guide is smell. Hold the pineapple in your hand, ignore the people around you and close your eyes. Imagine yourself somewhere warm and tropical. Imagine pushing yourself through the crowd at an outdoor market. Visualize an old man in a straw hat sitting next to a giant pile of pineapples warming in the sun. Imagine the smell that would come off them.

The pineapples, not the old man.

Now sniff your pineapple’s butt. Does it smell like that tropical marketplace? Even a little? If so, you’ve got your pineapple. If all you smell is your own rising sense of awkwardness and embarrassment, move on. (With all that said, you’ll probably have a better chance of scoring a good pineapple at an Asian or Latin market, where they cater to people who Know Their Pineapples, and who will not be trifled with.)

Ultimately, though, from a cocktail perspective, how much does this really matter?

Yes, you could get a great fresh pineapple, take it home, disassemble it and turn it into a Very Nice Drink. Or — and I’m just throwing ideas out, here — you could buy some of the pineapple that the people at the supermarket have already cut up for you, or even — stay with me — use canned pineapple. Once you’ve added lime juice and rum and a Spirit of Adventure, would you be able to tell the difference?

So I tried it out this afternoon. I made three identical drinks, using identical amounts of identical ingredients, except, of course, for the pineapple, and even shook them over identical amounts of ice for identical periods of time.

Using canned, precut, and fresh pineapple, was there a difference?

Yes.

Was it a Very Big Difference?

Not unless you had all three in front of you and could compare them. The fresh pineapple Aku-Aku (see below) was noticeably more subtle and pineapple-y than the other two, but the way I see it, an afternoon spent wrapping yourself around a pineapple drink — regardless of the pineapple you use — is better than an afternoon when you’ve deprived yourself of such a cocktail.

The Aku-Aku

• 5 1-inch cubes of pineapple — 85 grams, or 3 ounces
• 2 grams (.08 ounce) fresh mint leaves — around 2 Tablespoons
• 1 ounce fresh squeezed lime juice
• ½ ounce simple syrup
• ½ ounce peach brandy or schnapps
• 1½ ounce golden rum

Muddle the pineapple and mint together in the bottom of a cocktail shaker. Smash them together thoroughly. Really press the issue. Try not to splash yourself.

Add lime juice, syrup, brandy, rum and five ice cubes (around 80 grams). No, it really doesn’t matter how much ice you use, but since I had weighed it anyway, in the Name of Science, I thought I’d just put it out there.

Shake thoroughly for 30 seconds.

Strain into a coupe glass or other small, stemmed glass.

Face west-southwest — the direction of Polynesia — as you drink it.

You might be forgiven if you think this will be a fairly sweet drink — pineapple, plus peach brandy, plus simple syrup — but it’s a surprisingly refreshing and grown-up drink. The mint gives everything a faint hint of muskiness and sophistication. The glass’s stem keeps the drink cold. Your delightful personality and sense of inner peace keep the conversation excellent.

Take it from the houseplant I spent 20 minutes talking to after testing and drinking three of these.

Featured photo. The Aku-Aku. Photo by John Fladd.

Another reason to buy prosecco

Legend has it that the bellini was invented by Giuseppi Cipriani, owner of Harry’s Bar in Venice, Italy. Sometime between the mid-’30s and the mid-’40s he created this seasonal beverage made with puréed fresh Italian white peaches and prosecco, and as the legend states, he named the drink bellini as it reminded him of the peachy-pink color of a toga worn by a saint in a painting by Venetian artist Giovanni Bellini. The bellini has been selected by the International Bartenders Association (IBA) for use in the annual World Cocktail Competition (WCC) in bartending. There are variations to this blend, some of which call for the addition of mandarin orange juice, strawberry purée or pomegranate juice, but the peach purée reigns supreme when one thinks of the bellini.

Today it is easy enough to find several labels of prosecco, some relatively inexpensive and others a little pricier. The price points on most proseccos are generally accessible: from less than $10 per bottle to a little more than $25 per bottle. Several labels available in New Hampshire still come from Italy, but there is an increasing supply coming from California. As I am a firm believer that “life is too short to drink cheap wine,” I opt for the better quality, sometimes reflected in its price point.

Prosecco is made from a blend of grapes but the Italian varieties must contain at least 85 percent glera, with the rest being local and international varieties, including chardonnay, pinot blanco, pinot grigio and pinot noir. It is produced using the Charmat method: The base wine is produced, but instead of bottling, it is put into a sealed stainless steel tank, kept cool and under pressure to produce the effervescent bubbles. It is then filtered and bottled. This method of winemaking eliminates the second fermentation and riddling, the freezing and disgorging of the lees, and the addition of the dosage, or sweet wine — all the intensive work required of the Methode Traditionelle production of Champagne. With the Charmat method a small dosage of sweetened wine may be added, but this is added to the bulk wine before bottling. The bubbles of prosecco may be smaller, and the taste generally of more fruit than a sparkling wine produced by the Methode Traditionelle, but I like to think of this as a comparison of apples to oranges, a comparison a whole other column can be devoted to!

In making our bellinis, I selected the Santa Margherita Prosecco Di Valdobbiadene Superiore D.O.C.G. Brut, available at the New Hampshire Liquor and Wine Outlets, priced at $25.99, reduced to $19.99. This wine comes from the Conegliano-Valdobbiadene region of Veneto, Italy. It is made from 100 percent glera grapes. The winemakers allow the wine to sit on its lees for three months after fermentation, producing a creaminess not found in other proseccos I have tasted. The color is pale straw, the bubbles full, and to the nose there is citrus, peaches, pears and a touch of almond. To the tongue it is crisp and clean, with a fair amount of apple and more citrus. This is a delightful prosecco to sip enjoy with a meal or pair with a peach purée, to create a magnificent bellini!

Now, about the peach purée. It is tough to find! You can find it online, and Shaw’s sells a cocktail mixer, Stirrings Simple Peach Bellini, available at $7.99. This is a mixer created from real ingredients without preservatives; however, it is made from orange juice concentrate and peach purée. It’s pretty good and provides one with an easy recipe for that bellini: one part of the mix to four parts of prosecco, poured into a chilled Champagne flute. Doesn’t get much easier than that! But I have found I can create my own peach purée, by cutting an organic peach preserve with a little of the prosecco to create a purée, adding a couple of drops of lemon juice to cut the sweetness, then following through with the 4-to-1 recipe, or proportions to suit one’s taste. If you have the time and interest, you can create your own peach puree. All you need is a food processor or blender, a little sugar, honey or maple syrup, and of course fresh peaches. The concoction can be frozen!

This is a great libation for a hot summer afternoon. Slightly sweet and light in alcohol (the prosecco is typically 11 percent), it is a wonderful drink to impress your guests with your superior tastes and talents, and your impressive knowledge of wines and the history of cocktails. Enjoy the summer heat on your deck and patio with a cool bellini!

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.

“Hey, Susan.”

“Evenin’, Alice. The usual?”

“Please. Busy night?”

“Well, you know how it goes; everyone’s busy — kinda part of the job description — but they’re not busy here at the moment. What about you? Looks like you’ve had a rough one.”

“Ugh. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. You know Sylvia? The worker on Level Three? Yeah, anyway, she came in with a story about a case of strawberries that fell off the back of a truck and got smashed all over the highway. It sounded like a sweet gig — all the sugar, half the flying — so I shot out of here and went to find it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah, but I’m such a freakin’ genius that I didn’t wait around and watch her whole dance. It turns out she’s got a bit of an accent on account of she’s missing part of her left foreleg and I got the directions muddled. I ended up downtown at a dumpster behind a burger joint.”

“Oof! Sorry.”

“Well, it wasn’t so bad. It turns out there was a library about a block away with a window box full of geraniums, so I ended up meeting my quota.”

“That’s our girl! You always come through for us in the clutch.”

“Yeah, thanks, but it’s not getting any easier. I’m not two weeks old anymore.”

“Her Imperial Majesty should be pleased.”

“The Queen? Yeah, I hope so. You know, I met her once.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she’s really nice. Turns out her name is Betty. She likes showtunes.”

“Really? I’d’ve figured her for classical.”

“Nah! Our Betty’s real down-to-earth.”

“She’d kinda have to be, though; she doesn’t fly anymore — not since her mating flight. Wow! That was somethin’, huh?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it; a bit before my time, I’m afraid. Hey, set me up with another one, would ya, please?”

The Bee’s Knees

This is a classic cocktail from the 1920s. “The bee’s knees” was a catchy slang term of the time, describing something that was truly excellent, like “the cat’s pajamas” or “the elephant’s instep.” Not surprisingly, this is honey-based.

This is a type of drink I call a Basic Utility Cocktail. Margaritas, gimlets and classic daiquiris all follow a very similar recipe: roughly two ounces of a basic alcohol (blanco tequila, rum, gin, vodka, etc.), an ounce or so of syrup or sweet liqueur (this is where the triple sec or Grand Marnier would come into play in a margarita), and an ounce or so of a sour fruit juice (usually lemon or lime juice, but I’ve used cranberry juice, too). If you find yourself with too much fruit, it’s really easy to make it into a syrup to use in a seasonal drink. (Cucumbers work surprisingly well.)

Ingredients:

• 2 ounces very cold gin – depending on what type of honey you use, you might want to use something a little bracing and not too expensive. I’ve been enjoying Wiggly Bridge lately.
• ¾ ounce honey syrup (see below)
• ¾ ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice

Combine all ingredients over ice in a shaker.

Shake ever so hard, long enough for your hands to start hurting from the cold.

Strain into a small, stemmed glass — a coupé glass, maybe.

This is a seductive cocktail. The sweetness of the honey syrup contrasts with the acidity of the lemon juice. The gin adds a slight harshness to the background that keeps this drink from becoming frivolous. It is absolutely delicious, and the colder it is the more you find yourself wondering where your drink went, then making another. Appropriately for a bee-themed drink, this is a social cocktail; it facilitates conversation.

Honey Syrup

Bring equal parts honey and water to a boil over medium heat.

Let the mixture boil for a few seconds, to make sure that the honey is completely dissolved.

Cool and bottle. Store indefinitely in your refrigerator.

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.

Uncommon whites to go with your summer eats

It is summer and we remain in an extended heat wave. This is the season of “summer whites”— those lightweight clothes of whiter-than-white to reflect the heat of the summer sun. It is also the season of light meals — salads, sandwiches, cool entrées and desserts! And it is the season to pair light, white wines, the color of a sun-shading straw hat, with those meals.

We are always looking for something off the beaten track, wines other than chardonnays and sauvignon blancs, so we headed to the Loire Valley in France and, surprisingly, Napa Valley, to try a few whites made with other varietals.

Our first wine, the Domaine Bourillon Dorleans Premium Vouvray Brut (available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets, priced at $64.99, reduced to $23.99), is a delightful take on a crémant, which is sparkling wine not produced in Champagne and sometimes made with grapes other than chardonnay and pinot noir. It has a pale gold color; the bubbles are tiny and persistent. To the nose, there are citric notes with just a touch of yeast. To the tongue this bubbly is ripe with apple and honey while remaining crisp with acidity. The wine is made from 100 percent chenin blanc grapes from 30-year-old vines. It is made by the method Champenoise, with sur lie for 16 months, before being disgorged and re-corked. While crisp, this wine has a very subtle creaminess to it. Chilled, it is a perfect wine to be sipped, or joined to soft cheeses or a light meal.

Our second wine, the 2021 Pine Ridge Chenin Blanc + Viognier (priced at $17.99 but reduced to $15.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets), is a blend of 80 percent chenin blanc and 20 percent viognier. This wine is interesting in that I tend to think of chenin blanc as coming from the Loire Valley, which has a climate decidedly cooler than that of California. Because of the terroir and heat of the Valley, this wine is more expressive with notes of rich honeysuckle, orange blossoms and citric. These carry through to the tongue. In the glass, the wine has the palest of a light straw, almost silver, color. The inherent creaminess of the chenin blanc is emboldened in this wine, making it a great accompaniment to a frittata or a seafood tostada. It is indeed interesting seeing this wine come from a winery such as Pine Ridge, located in Stag’s Leap, Napa Valley, producing iconic cabernet sauvignons. This is a blend one would never see in France. The grapes for this wine come from the Sacramento River Delta, where 90-degree days are met with cool nights, producing a wine with lush flavors.

Our third wine, the 2019 Domaine Long-Depaquit Chablis (priced at $29.99, reduced to $27.99 and available at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets), is a Burgundian chardonnay. This is a perfect wine to pair with grilled pork, salmon or tuna, shellfish, or mild cheeses if you cannot stand the prospect of cooking anything. The color is a pale greenish yellow. To the nose and tongue we find green apples, along with citric notes of lemon and lime with a slight trace of almonds, and that flinty earthiness that permeates the wines of Chablis. Chablis is the northernmost wine-growing region in Burgundy. The ancient soils of this region give its wines a distinctive minerality. This is a crisp, light wine that can make the summer heat tolerable.

Our fourth wine, a 2020 Joseph Drouhin Pouilly-Fuissé (priced at $31.99, reduced to $29.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets), is another chardonnay, but coming from vineyards in the villages of Pouilly and Fuissé, in the Mâconnaise subregion of Bourgogne, where the only grape variety grown is chardonnay. This wine is different from the others in that there is some barrel aging, six to eight months in the case of this wine, giving the wine a more “full-mouth-feel.” The color is golden, along with a slight green tinge. To the nose, green grapes and almonds abound; this is then carried through to the tongue. These are pleasant notes, not to be considered heavy, but instead ethereal, and with a long finish.

These are four wines that can satisfy every palate and yet are decidedly different from the mainstream everyday whites of chardonnay or pinot grigio. So, live dangerously! Try one of these alternative whites to pair with your summer evening meal. You will welcome the adventure!

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.

I’ve never been very good at meditating.

I had an instructor tell me once that it’s important to listen to your heartbeat or think very hard about your breathing. The way he put it, your brain is like a monkey that is always looking for something to do, so you need to distract it with counting and stuff.

“That makes sense,” I thought to myself. “Because, when you think about it, monkeys are pretty mystical creatures. It’s weird how wizards and witches have familiars and patronuses like cats or elk, because it would be really something to meditate and manifest a pack of angry mandrills. And actually, Angry Mandrill would be a really good name for a high-proof, banana-flavored rum. Maybe with chilies in it….”

And I missed another opportunity for self-enlightenment.

The only time I actually ever succeeded at meditating, it happened — as so many important things in life do — when I wasn’t trying to.

At one point in my youth, I found myself broke on the streets of Mombasa, on the East Coast of Africa. Well, not broke-broke — not George Orwell broke — but not in a position to be picky about my hotel accommodations. Somehow, I found myself surprised at how hot and humid it was. This should not have been much of a shock, as I was on the Equator, about a mile from the Indian Ocean, but The Obvious has always been a bit of a blind spot for me.

I needed someplace to stay, and I followed a couple of German backpackers to a not-quite-scary, kind-of-OK-if-you-squinted-at-it-hard-enough hotel. I managed to score a room for a couple of dollars a night.

(As it turned out, the reason the cheapest room was so cheap was that its window was right next to the loudspeaker of the mosque next door that called worshipers to prayer at five each morning. But that’s another story.)

Obviously, my room didn’t have anything like air conditioning — though there was a large ceiling fan over my bed — and I didn’t have any money to go out at night, but that was OK, because the sheer, overwhelming heat and humidity sucked away any enthusiasm I might have had to do anything anyway.

For two nights, I lay on my bed all night, under the fan sweating.

I kept two or three liters of water by the bed and I would alternate sweating and drinking, drinking and sweating. Taking in water, and feeling it seep back out of me. Over and over again.

It was the single most meditative experience of my life.

So, as I look at the weather forecast for the next week, with temperatures and humidity predicted to be in the 90s, I find myself somewhat uncharacteristically nostalgic for Mombasa.

Mombasa Michelada

A michelada is a Mexican beer cocktail. Many people make theirs very much like a bloody mary, with tomato or even clam juice, spices and sometimes an extra shot of tequila. I like mine a little on the lighter side to facilitate the whole meditative sweating thing.

1 lime wedge and some chili-lime spice to rim the edge of your glass or mug. I like Tajin.

2 oz. passion fruit cocktail – you can find this on the top shelf in the juice aisle at your supermarket

• ½ teaspoon hot sauce – I like Cholula
• ½ teaspoon miso paste
• A pinch of celery salt
• A pinch of black pepper
• A handful of torn and mangled cilantro leaves
• A bottle of Pilsner or lager beer – you can’t go wrong with something Mexican like Modelo

Rub the rim of your glass with your lime wedge, then set it aside for your garnish. Sprinkle some of your chili-lime powder on a plate and touch the rim of your glass down in it to rim the edge of the glass.

Chop or tear your cilantro and put it in the bottom of your glass. This is optional, if you are one of those people who think it tastes like soap, but it is highly recommended.

Fill the glass halfway with ice. This is somewhat heretical; you have been warned.

In a separate dish or cup, mix the hot sauce, miso, celery salt and pepper into a paste. Slowly mix in the passion fruit juice, until it is all smoothly mixed. Pour the mixture into your glass.

Fill the glass with beer and garnish with your lime wedge. Stir gently.

Beer, spice and acidity are excellent playmates. This is a surprisingly meditative drink.

Hmm. Delicious, but maybe a bit strong — add more beer.

Oh, that’s good! But now the cilantro is taking over a little — add a little more juice.

Repeat.

I’m not saying that this experience will be the same as lying under a fan on the equator, counting the cracks in the ceiling, but I recommend it anyway.

Featured photo. Mombasa Michelada. Photo by John Fladd.