Category: Drink

When you were in school, did you ever have one of those teachers who always went off-topic?

You know the type: He was supposed to be lecturing on the Dewey Decimal System or something, and he would tell the class a story about a haberdasher he used to know in Cleveland, who had nine fingers and a dog named Sylvia.

And yet — somehow — he would end up circling around and making an important and pertinent point about the actual subject. Anyway, this is one of those stories:

My teenager and I had just finished our Taekwondo class and were driving home. The Teen asked if we could stop at our favorite convenience store, because if she didn’t eat some chocolate-covered pretzels immediately, she would die, messily in the passenger seat.

I grabbed a diet orange soda and was waiting at the front counter, while The Teen gave the variety of pretzels the intense scrutiny they required.

Two clerks were on duty. I know one of them pretty well — I’m a regular customer — but the other was clearly new. I nodded at each of them.

We had just come from martial arts class, and it was a sparring week, so not only was I in uniform and unpleasantly sweaty, but I had also just taken a beating.

“Rough week?” my regular clerk asked.

“Man!” I replied. “I dropped some bad powdered unicorn horn over the weekend. The guy said it was pure, but I think it was cut with some of that South Korean stuff….”

“I hear you,” my friend said.

I continued. “I’ve got a cousin who managed to score me some pixie dust on Monday, and that helped a little, but I kept floating a foot off the couch, and I couldn’t play XBox properly.”

“We’ve all been there,” Clerk No. 1 said, comfortingly.

At this point, Clerk No. 2 was extremely confused.

“I mean,” I said with real frustration in my voice, “I’m just trying to stop the tentacles. You know what I mean?”

Clerk No. 1 nodded understandingly and patted my shoulder. Clerk No. 2 started to say something, then thought better of it. The Teen found her snack. I paid, and we left.

As we walked out the door, I heard Clerk Number Two ask, “Is he always like that?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” said his colleague.

This is my point: It’s been a rough week and you could use a pretty pink drink.

Rhubarb Margarita

• 2 ounces blanco tequila — I like Hornitos.
• 1 ounce fresh-squeezed lime juice
• ¾ ounce rhubarb syrup (see below)

Add all ingredients and 4 or 5 ice cubes to a cocktail shaker. Shake vigorously.

Pour unstrained into a rocks glass.

Regardless of how you start this drink, it will have an effect on you. I am a grumpy, walrus-like man in late middle age. By the time I finished shaking this, I found myself wearing a tutu and sparkle-shoes.

This is a tart, refreshing take on a traditional margarita. The lime juice and tequila are the dominant tastes, but there is a tart fruitiness in the background that you would not be able to identify if you were drinking this blindfolded — which, for what it’s worth, sounds like a really great way to spend a weekend, making new friends. That’s the rhubarb. It’s delicious but prefers to stay in the background, steering this cocktail in delicate and happy directions.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty and all, but I’m not the world’s biggest fan of tequila.”

Fair. Replace the tequila with white rum, and you’ll have something we might call a Blushing Daiquiri.

“What if I’m 9 years old?”

You’re not supposed to be reading cocktail columns. Have Dad replace the alcohol with club soda. It will be the Very Prettiest Soda.

Rhubarb Syrup

Combine equal amounts of frozen diced rhubarb and white sugar in a saucepan. You will be afraid you have made a major miscalculation — it will look like a lumpy pile of sugar. Be stout of heart.

Cook over medium heat. As the rhubarb thaws and cooks, the sugar will draw out a surprising amount of liquid. Bring the mixture to a boil and let it cook for 30 seconds or so.

Remove from the heat, and let it steep for half an hour or so. Strain off the syrup into a bottle for use. Do not discard the rhubarb; it is the base of a superb compote. Squeeze a little fresh lemon juice into it and you will have a fantastic topping for toast or ice cream.

Featured photo. Rhubarb Margarita. Photo by John Fladd.

Keep it simple on vacation

It had been a long day. My wife and I, together with our three children, packed our bags, got ourselves to the airport, made it through security unscathed, successfully boarded a plane, flew to points south without delay, procured our bags at the baggage claim, secured a rental car and drove to our final destination while my kids screamed in unison about the severe hunger from which they were suffering.

At some point during that rather lengthy sentence, you have to have been thinking, “This guy needed a beer.” And I did, very much.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes in moments like those when you’ve just had yourself a day, you really don’t want a brew that’s especially unique or that requires your consideration. You need something predictable, something you can count on, and definitely something you don’t need to think about.

I didn’t need a quadruple dry-hopped IPA or a stout that’s been aged in brandy barrels and finished with vanilla beans and cinnamon.

I know I overuse it but I just needed a beer that tasted like a beer. I sprinted to the closest convenience store and was actually pleased to see the establishment had very little to choose from. As I was in vacationland, I paid what can only be described as a premium price for a six-pack of Landshark Island Style Lager, which is apparently brewed by Margaritaville Brewing Co. in St. Louis, Missouri, and I never looked back.

The beer is simple yet so pleasing. It’s light, refreshing, easy to drink and just enjoyable. No one could drink this beer and say, “That tastes bad.” Some would, I know, but they’d be lying.

As beer drinkers today, we have an incredible array of options to choose from. Brewers are doing some amazing things and perhaps above all else, as far as I can tell, we’re all within a short drive of fresh, on-tap beer right from the brewery. Think back 10 or 15 years and it’s hard to fully appreciate how the craft beer scene has evolved and grown since then. The variety and the quality is off the charts today and that’s a great thing for beer drinkers everywhere.

But sometimes all you need is something pleasing and simple. I think vacation, and the first couple days of vacation in particular, is often one of those times. You’re visiting new places, experiencing new things, getting yourself settled, and yeah, you’re probably a little stressed from the travel.

For me, beer is one thing I really don’t need to spend a whole lot of time considering when I arrive in a new place. So keep it simple, stupid.

Sure, after you’re settled, by all means, try some new things and explore some local breweries. I’m never going to tell you not to do that, but Day 1, grab a Landshark and relax.

I’m not suggesting you have to stick to mass-produced brews like Landshark, but I do think it makes sense to lean toward brews that offer pleasing simplicity, like Pilsners in particular. Most local craft brewers wherever you are will have something simple, light, refreshing that you can embrace without thinking.

For example, Liar’s Bench Brewing Co. in Portsmouth was pouring a John Grady Kolsch and a No Dice Pilsner as of last week, while Kettlehead Brewing Co. in Tilton was pouring Nuevo Fresco, a Mexican-style lager. You’ll have easy-drinking options wherever you go.

All of this said, you should probably also think about ordering a margarita if I’m being completely honest.

What’s in My Fridge
Green State Lager by Zero Gravity Brewing Co. (Burlington, Vt.)
Speaking of beers that would work on vacation, this would be perfect. Light, crisp, flavorful and refreshing, this brew is delightfully easy to drink. I had a couple of these after a long afternoon of dethatching my lawn and let’s just say it was the right choice. Grab a chilled glass for this one. Cheers.

Featured photo. Go ahead and have a Landshark Island Style Lager. Courtesy photo.

A look at two reds from Napa Valley

This week’s wines are two exceptional reds, created from grapes grown in neighboring towns almost within sight of each other, in the Napa Valley Floor American Viticulture Area (AVA).

Our first wine comes from the Bespoke Collection Portfolio Wines based in Napa Valley, California. Wikipedia describes Bespoke as a “wine producer and lifestyle brand” whose wine labels are Blackbird Vineyards and Recuerdo Wines. Bespoke means custom-made or commissioned and in times past the word was used to describe hand-tailoring, especially in custom-made apparel. Now, it captures the sense that we want things to be made special for us and the label lends a certain cachet to the product.

The 2016 Blackbird Vineyards Arise Proprietary Red Wine (originally priced at $54.99, and reduced to $32.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets) is a blend that emulates the merlot-based wine blends of the Right Bank of the Dordogne River, Bordeaux. The wine is a blend of 55 percent merlot, 25 percent cabernet franc, 17 percent cabernet sauvignon and 3 percent petit verdot. Made from merlot grapes grown on a 10-acre estate in Oakville, on the Napa Valley floor, and enhanced by the other varietals, gathered from 20-plus lots from the Napa Valley Mountain tops, hillsides and bench lands, this limited production of only 236 barrels of equal parts of new and seasoned French oak has an abundance of rich fruit. The color is a deep garnet purple, the nose is rich black cherries and black raspberries, and plums with slight herbal notes. The nose carries through to a full palate and a long, long finish. Robert Parker awarded this bold wine with 92 points.

This is a California red blend, bolder, and thus emulating the Bordeaux blend. The vineyards profit from generations of expert vineyard management and precision agriculture, limiting grape yields for increased quality. Sustainable farming is employed, and indigenous yeasts start the fermentation process. The winemaking team selects two or more parcels of wine after sample trials blended to produce a consistently finished wine that highlights each unique varietal component. This wine becomes a “customized wine,” a “bespoke wine,” according to the winemaker’s website.

The Oakville-Rutherford area is renowned for its cabernet sauvignon and merlot single-varietal wines and blends.

Our next wine comes from Rutherford, also located on the Napa Valley floor, and immediately north of Oakville. The 2011 Sullivan Rutherford Estate Napa Valley Merlot (originally priced at $65 and reduced to $29.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets) consists of 100 percent merlot that also benefits from the gravelly-sandy loam and hot, dry summers of this stretch of wine country. The color is a deep purple that has just begun to go amber as it is 20 years old. To the nose and tongue, the fruit is heavy with plum and blackberry, along with some cocoa. The tannins have receded, owing in part to its age. This is an exquisite wine that is a true reflection of how beautiful a merlot can be, given proper attention to the grapes, the blending, and aging.

Sullivan Winery was established in 1972 when James O’Neil Sullivan, encouraged by his friend the legendary winemaker André Tchelistcheff, planted 22 acres to cabernet sauvignon and merlot. He built his home and winery on the estate and produced and sold wine until his death in 2005, leaving the home and winery to his children. In 2018 entrepreneur Juan Pablo Torres-Padilla saw the potential of Sullivan Rutherford Estate and purchased the property. This wine was produced before the property was sold, and the future of the estate remains bright as Torres-Padilla has assembled a world-class winery team that will continue to make history.

Featured photo. Courtesy.

In my relative youth, I worked in a pizza joint for several older Greek men who taught me two important life lessons:

(1) How to swear in Greek.

I got into a conversation with a Greek couple recently and was able to exchange pleasantries in reasonably passable Greek. The shockingly beautiful lady of the couple complimented me on speaking her language so well. I told her that I knew “Hello,” “Thank you,” “You’re welcome” and how to swear.

“Everyone thinks they know how to swear in Greek,” she told me with a knowing smile, “but most of the time they really don’t.”

I let loose with a torrent of Athens-accented profanity that would get me a black eye from any cabbie in Southern Europe. She blushed and smiled, then her eyes got moist and she blotted away a tear.

“You remind me of my Uncle Costas,” she told me.

(2) How to read a racing form.

One of the owners was an enthusiastic loser of money at the dog track. I remember picking up one of his racing forms one day and asking him to explain it to me. He did, and it made a shocking amount of logical sense. I remember thinking at the time that it would be pretty easy to figure out a system to…

That’s when my brain — in one of its very rare moments of good judgment — reminded me that every guy in a rumpled suit with bloodshot eyes and a cheesed-off wife at home has a system for picking a winner from a racing form. In consequence, I have never set foot onto a racetrack.

But I would so very much love to.

Anyway, in honor of next Saturday, Kentucky Derby, Run For the Roses, yadda, yadda:

Solid, Not Quite Authentic Mint Julep

There are more people with strong opinions about mint juleps that there are self-absorbed white guys with podcasts, so I decided to look for a recipe in one of my older cocktail books, the 1935 Old Mr. Boston De Luxe Official Bartender’s Guide. Even in this early manual, there are two julep recipes: one simply labeled Mint Julep, and the other labeled Southern Style, implying a choice between good or authentic.

I’ve got no particular stake in either approach, but the standardized, less authentic version sounded better to me. Unfortunately, as is often the case in early cocktail recipes, ingredients and amounts are maddeningly vague. I’ve updated them here.

Ingredients

• “Four sprigs of fresh mint” — I used 1 gram of fresh mint leaves
• 2½ ounces bourbon — I went with Wiggly Bridge, which I’ve been enjoying lately.
• ½ ounce simple syrup
• club soda
• shaved ice — or ice that you’ve wrapped in a tea towel and taught a lesson to with a mallet

Fill a silver cup with shaved ice. I used one that I think used to be silver-plated.

Muddle the mint in the bottom of a shaker. Add several ice cubes, the bourbon and syrup. Shake enthusiastically.

Strain into your metal cup full of shaved ice. Top with club soda and stir with a silver spoon (or just a spoon) until frost forms on the cup.

Garnish with several more sprigs of mint. Drink while watching coverage of the Kentucky Derby and critiquing Southern women’s hats.

If you’ve never had a mint julep before, it tastes about like you would assume it would, like bourbon and mint. That’s the first sip.

On the second sip you start to appreciate the pulverized ice. There’s something profoundly satisfying about stirring a drink with that much ice with that particular texture. The Very Serious Coldness that it brings to your lips is just as gratifying.

The third sip brings an appreciation of this whole mint julep thing. You start to see the appeal.

Every subsequent sip brings less and less responsible thoughts to mind. Do not read a racing form while drinking this.

Featured photo. A fresh, totally solid mint julep. Photo by John Fladd.

The best tacos on the planet?

Imagine crispy, yet tender, bits of pork exploding with savory, sweet flavors in every bite. Next, imagine a super-simple cooking process that is borderline impossible to mess up and results in perhaps the best taco base in existence.

I’m talking about pork carnitas and while we’re at it, let’s make them with beer. Beer adds complexity and flavor to the meat as it cooks slowly, tenderizing in its own juices. Also, I think, and I can’t promise this is accurate, beer actually aids in the tenderization process, helping the meat get where you want to go faster.

Making carnitas, which translates to “little meats” in Spanish, is really more process than recipe. First you braise chunks of pork until tender, and then you crisp up the tender chunks. My understanding is that traditionally the meat is fried in its own fat until tender before it is deposited into tacos.

I’ve followed a bunch of different recipes and I’ve never been disappointed. I’ve made them with a variety of seasonings and braising liquids, including chicken broth, beer, white wine, cider, and a mixture of orange and milk — they’re all winners.

If you choose a lighter brew like a Mexican lager, such as Revuelta by Able Ebenezer Brewing Co. in Merrimack, it will impart some pleasing funkiness. A hard cider, such as Wild Thing by Contoocook Cider Co. in Contoocook, adds a little fruitiness and acidity that helps balance a pretty rich final product. A stout would impart more richness but I’d lean toward a drier stout so it doesn’t overpower the dish.

For carnitas, you need to use pork butt, which is actually pork shoulder. The meat is quite fatty and filled with connective tissue, which requires long cooking times to break down.

Start by searing the meat in a big Dutch oven, add the seasonings you like, add your braising liquid, and then either slowly simmer it on the stovetop, or cook it covered in the oven or in a crockpot until the meat is tender.

Once the meat is tender, you drain off the braising liquid and either fry up the tender chunks until crispy on the stovetop or, and this is what I prefer, crisp up the meat in a screaming hot oven or under the broiler. It’s just easier, more consistent, and less messy.

Smash your crispy bits of pork into a warmed tortilla and top with whatever you want: salsa, fresh lime juice, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, pickled onions, and so on. I do think less is more when it comes to toppings here.

Here’s just one way to make carnitas.

Pork Carnitas

• 3 to 4 pounds boneless pork butt, cut into 2-inch cubes
• 1 Tablespoon ground cumin
• 1 Tablespoon chili powder
• 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 3 or 4 garlic cloves, smashed
• 1 Tablespoon kosher salt, probably more
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
• 12 ounces beer, preferably craft-brewed in New Hampshire
• Vegetable oil, for searing

Heat a pot with a heavy bottom over high heat. Once hot, add a tablespoon or two of vegetable oil. Sear chunks of pork in batches, don’t crowd, until browned all over. Add all ingredients and bring to a simmer. Maintain a simmer, either over low heat on the stovetop or in a 350-degree oven, for about 3 hours until the meat is fork tender. Strain meat and remove garlic cloves and bay leaf. Arrange meat in a broiler-safe pan, drizzle over a few tablespoons of the braising liquid, and broil on high heat for about 10 minutes, turning halfway, until the meat is richly browned and crispy. You could also do this last step in a super-hot oven if you don’t have a broiler. Smash 2 or 3 chunks into a warm tortilla and top however you like.

What’s in My Fridge
Double Clip Double IPA by Stoneface Brewing Co. (Newington)
I’m sure I’ve had this before but somehow, maybe not? As my brother-in-law remarked as we cracked open a couple of these, “This is delicious.” It’s big, juicy and bold but the finish is quite smooth. Cheers.

Featured photo. Make pork carnitas. Photo by Frankie Lopez.

Exploring the variations of this classic Tuscan red

Those of us of a certain age fondly remember the bottle of Chianti, wrapped in a straw basket sitting on the red-checkered tablecloth in Billy Joel’s Italian Restaurant.

The best part of that bottle of wine was, in fact, the bottle. So romantic, repurposed as a candle holder as in that back-alley spaghetti dinner of Disney’s Lady and the Tramp. That bottle grew in texture and affection that only the wax could give it because the wine was dreadful! Is it any coincidence that “il fiasco” is Italian for a rough glass flagon, or flask, that is then wrapped in straw to protect it and allow it to stand properly?

But let’s move on to today’s Chiantis. You will have some difficulty in finding the straw-wrapped fiasco of Chianti today. Instead, there are bottles of Bolla Chianti lining the shelves of stores everywhere at very affordable prices. And most are vastly superior to that Chianti of 40 to 50 years ago. Chianti is a wine to be drunk with food. Its medium body, dryness and light tannins are a superior complement to baked Italian pasta dishes, pizza or braised beef. It is not a wine to sip unless it is accompanied by Italian cheeses from mozzarella to pecorino. It is a wine enjoyed in your college years because it’s affordably priced, but the experience shouldn’t end there. We have a line-up of three Chiantis from one winery that vary from each other significantly. And the bottles are not wrapped in straw!

Our first Chianti is the 2020 Castello di Querceto Chianti D.O.C.G. (originally priced at $15.99, reduced to $8.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets). Just as with other Chiantis, this wine is principally made with sangiovese grapes, with a small fraction of other varietals added to soften the hard edges of the sangiovese grapes. Chianti wine emerged in the Renaissance in the Chianti region of Tuscany, between Florence and Siena. The Chiantis we enjoy today were formulated in the third quarter of the 19th century, providing some continuity and control within the region. The terroir of Chianti varies widely, resulting in a wide range of quality. This bottle can be loosely interpreted as “entry-level D.O.C.G. Chianti” (D.O.C.G. is a designation given to wine of the highest level of quality from that region). The wine has a ruby color, and to the nose a pleasant floral note, along with a fresh but dry tongue of cherries. Upon opening, this wine has strong tannins, so it should be decanted or opened well in advance of drinking to allow the tannins to subside. If you plan to cellar, this wine has an aging potential of three to five years.

Our second Chianti is the 2019 Castello di Querceto Chianti Classico D.O.C.G. (originally priced at $18.99, reduced to $10.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets). This wine comes from vineyards in Greve in Chianti. It is matured in casks for 10 to 12 months, and then refined in the bottle for a minimum of three months. Produced from sangiovese grapes, with an addition of canaiolo grapes, it too has a ruby color, but with the slightest tinge of amber at the rim. To the nose it has notes of cherries, but with an added hint of clove. The tannins are lighter than the first Chianti and it remains fresh to the finish. Its dry smoky flavor is a departure from the first Chianti and worth the $2 increase in cost. This vintage can be cellared for an additional five years.

Our third Chianti is the 2017 Castello di Querceto Chianti Classico Riserva D.O.C.G. (originally priced at $24.99, reduced to $12.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets). This wine has a nose of cherries, augmented by cassis, berries, with slight floral notes. To the tongue, the fruit is joined by the addition of walnuts and chocolate and thus it becomes richer and more complex than the earlier Chiantis. Made from grapes grown at altitudes exceeding 1,200 feet, and barrel aged for two years, this Chianti exemplifies the best of the central region of Chianti Classico. While Chianti Classico improves with cellaring, this is a wine produced five years ago and unfortunately will only cellar for another handful of years, so purchase and enjoy this lush treat in a bottle now.

Have a little fun and treat yourself to a “horizontal tasting” of these three Chiantis. Consider it to be a trip through Tuscany to sample the bounty of the land. You will be delighted and enriched by the experience!

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.