Lindeman's Lambic

For those not familiar with lambic, it’s a unique variety of beer made only in Belgium. What differentiates lambic from most other beer is the fermentation process. Really dedicated brewers tend to obsess over their process and ingredients, and one of the major targets for that obsession is the yeast. Various strains of yeast have been bred and developed over centuries to lend unique flavors and qualities to beer and almost every other alcoholic beverage. But where other brewers painstakingly select the yeast they want to use, lambic brewers aren’t so picky. Yeasts are actually single-cell microorganisms that occur naturally all over the place, so once lambic brewers have created their wort (a combination of grain and water) they place it in open vats and expose it to a natural breeze, thereby accumulating any yeast that happens to be wafting by. There is also a significant amount of yeast from the timber of the vats. Because the amount of yeast is comparatively low, lambic is aged in barrels for at least a year as fermentation is allowed to take its natural course.

Pomme and Kriek lambics

Now, the bottles that we have are fruit lambics, one pomme (apple) the other kriek (cherry), which are probably what you’re most likely to find available here in the States. The fruit is introduced after the aging, which spurs a second round of fermentation. Though the bottles don’t list what the alcohol content is, I’m going to say that it’s fairly low. My guess is that these lambics don’t exceed 4-5% ABV.

The fine folks at Lindeman's want to make sure you have a full arsenal of bar tools

Lindeman’s lambic is definitely a special occasion drink as you are apparently required to pass a series of trials before you can enjoy it. This is the first beer I’ve ever seen that is sealed with foil, followed by a cap, followed by a cork. I suppose the anticipation is part of the appeal.

First, the dark red Kriek

Now, as we delve into this review, let’s begin with the kriek. The color is a deep red, which is almost opaque, and when pouring there is very little head. On the nose and first sip I was unpleasantly reminded of Robitussin. I admit though that that is an unfair association. Lindeman’s kriek is made with actual fresh sour cherries, the flavor that Robitussin is trying to imitate. The more you sip this lambic though, the easier it is to put childhood illness out of your mind and focus on the depth and dynamic of the flavor here. When you sip the kriek you are hit immediately with the sour cherry flavor, but as you roll it around your tongue this peters off into a short sweet finish that lingers just a second or two. The overall impression I get here is that the sweet and sour are battling. The sour comes on strong, but the sweet endures.

The pomme lambic

The pomme, in comparison, is almost a mirror image of the kriek. Clear and lightly golden in color, the pomme lambic also has a very light head. On the nose and right up front you get a strong, sweet apple flavor somewhere between cider and apple juice. However, the finish ends with a pronounced tartness, almost similar to a granny smith apple. Again, the finish doesn’t linger long, but it is quite distinct from the front of your sip.

Each of these lambics are very tasty and would make excellent dessert drinks. However, those looking for a more traditional beer may be disappointed. Individuals who are not fond of beer though, and who may prefer a sweeter drink (ahem, Aaron Crandall) might find these lambics to be a refreshing change of pace.

I am, by many accounts, an odd duck. I have had pseudo-theological discussions which theorized the Kool-Aid man as a symbolic Christ figure in a fight with the Planters Peanut mascot, made armor out of fence wire, and have the words “Don’t Panic” tattooed in large, friendly letters on the inside of my biceps. But while these things have on occasion earned me strange looks and lost me the respect of some normal (read: boring) human beings, in my time spent at college bars I have earned the most grief due to my fondness for that most abhorred beverage:

The “girly” drink.

Aaron Crandall: mad scientist and advocate for girly drinks

In this article I shall endeavor not to point fingers, as only you can determine where you stand on certain beverages. However, during undergrad I had the good fortune to have a friend behind the bar who introduced me to some rather delightful tropical cocktails of deceptive alcohol content.

In college one drinks what one can afford, and this tends to be sad mass-produced American beer, cheap liquor, and occasionally some far-too-sugary malt foolishness that hurts your teeth, dignity, and – the next morning – head. But notwithstanding my tendency to spend Saturday mornings in my pajamas playing video games, I am now a grownup. I am no longer drinking to overcome monolithic social awkwardness in an attempt to reach the opposite sex.

Instead, alcohol is for relaxing in the evening with good people, and the experience should be now about quality rather than quantity. I’d rather enjoy a few well-crafted drinks than many poor ones. Sure, they may be a bit more work (I’ve even spent a few weeks – at 2 drinks a day – trying to perfect a single recipe) but the end result is much more memorable, and rarely results in a face that suggests you’ve just lost a bet or incurred bodily harm.

As this blog usually offers recipes, I will suggest something of a drink template which has served me well, and can help you to mix the much derided “flavored martini.” Even the term is enough for the usual authors of this blog to make stern frowny faces.

The basic ratio is 3 parts vodka to 1 part liqueur with matched flavor. If your drink is fruity (for example, anyone playing a Scrubs drinking game should really be sipping an Appletini) try to garnish with the appropriate fruit, or try an interesting compliment.

For more of a dessert drink (such as the Adult Chocolate Milk I’ve seen on a few store shelves) the same ratio holds, but adding 1 part cream to the mix will help bring out your chocolate and vanilla flavors. One such concoction was inspired by ingredients I just happened to have on hand. I used 360 Double Chocolate Vodka and Grand Marnier in an attempt to recreate a Tobler chocolate orange with alcohol. I would suggest you add some chocolate syrup if you don’t want to taste the alcohol. Just shake over ice and serve up in stemware.

Now one point of annoyance that has been raised legitimately is the term “flavored martinis.” Associating a sweet light drink with a pile of cold gin and vermouth is a poor conceptual pairing. The basic reasoning is there – it does share the same basic proportions as the classic 3 to 1 martini – but the dissonance that has arisen over martini vs. vodka martini vs. something entirely different has reared its head. Some bar menus list a range of “martinis” with gin nowhere to be seen.

The flavored martinis are mostly labeled as such because of their strength and the stemware they’re served in. They use the same basic ratio as “rocks” drinks, with rarely any ingredients that aren’t alcoholic. But the desired flavor of is usually closer to that of cream drinks, the “liquid desserts” that use crème de menthe and crème de cacao among other ingredients. The martini and other classics like the Manhattan, Rob Roy, and Gibson have a short list of ingredients. Including normal, perfect, or dry variations, the whole family can be made with a list of less than 10 alcohols plus a range of common garnishes. This is in contrast to the wide range of possibilities presented by flavored martinis.

Perhaps a new category should be made, leaving the classics where they are, while not demonizing or relegating sweet drinks. “Fortified liquid dessert” perhaps. I think there is the possibility for a more useful category that allows delicious drinks to be enjoyed while subject to a little less grief.

But for all my bouncing between recipes, alcohol classification, and my general yammering, the point of all this is to consider why you drink what you drink. I drink what I enjoy. If you find yourself drinking but not enjoying your drink, what’s the point?

So why don’t we just do away with all the bar room judgments. You’re welcome to enjoy whatever you care to, as long as I can have the same courtesy.

Just don’t call it girly.

So let’s raise a toast: May the next 100 posts be even more fun than the first, and may you always drink in good health and better company!

Celebrating 100 posts with a Century Cocktail

3 oz gin

1 oz St. Germaine

1 oz Kina Lillet

rinse of creme de violette

Pour a dash of creme de violette into a cocktail glass and swirl until the liqueur has coated the inside of the glass then shake out any excess. It helps to chill both the glass and the creme de violette beforehand. Combine the gin, St. Germaine, and Lillet in a mixing glass half full of ice and stir thoroughly. Strain into the cocktail glass and garnish with a twist of lemon.

For more IPTB original cocktails, check out the Vespa (as distinct from the Vesper) and the Bourbon Apple Cobbler.

Jacquin’s Cordials is a Philadelphia-based producer of bottom-shelf liquors and liqueurs, and the only brand the PLCB carries of several cocktail essentials, not least of which is grenadine. Theoretically, grenadine should be made from pomegranate juice (grenade is French for pomegranate) though even outside of Pennsylvania it can be tough to find a commercial grenadine that still is. These days most grenadine is like Jacquin’s: artificially flavored and over-sugared with so much corn syrup you could probably distill it into bourbon. Much like maraschino liqueur, grenadine is overdue for an artisanal back-to-basics overhaul.

Homemade Grenadine

But while we’re waiting for someone to launch that Kickstarter campaign, let’s take matters into our own hands with a bottle of homemade grenadine. Not long ago we found a recipe on Liquor.com that seemed simple enough. We’ve tweaked it a little, both for ease of production and because we couldn’t find orange blossom water anywhere. The result is a far cry from anything we’ve found commercially and, we think, much improved. We’ll probably continue to fool around with the recipe a bit, and you should do the same. In fact, we may never buy grenadine again.

2 cups pomegranate juice (either fresh-squeezed or bottled)

2 cups sugar

2 oz pomegranate molasses

1 0z vodka (optional)

orange peel

Measure the pomegranate juice into a saucepan over low heat. Add the sugar and stir constantly until it’s entirely dissolved. Then add the molasses and vodka, stir briefly, and allow to cool. Once cooled, bottle your grenadine and add the peel of around 1/4 of an orange. Because you will someday have to get that orange peel out of the bottle, I recommend using a channel knife which gives you long thin strips of peel. Also, the vodka is optional. Not all grenadine contains alcohol, but the vodka will extend your grenadine’s shelf life.

BONUS: Click here to check out a small but charming gallery of Mary Pickford portraits.

4 oz Jamaican rum

2 oz pineapple juice

2 tsp maraschino liqueur

dash of grenadine

Combine all ingredients in a shaker half full of ice. Shake well and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Mary Pickford

3 oz dry vermouth

2 oz sweet vermouth

1 tsp maraschino liqueur

4 dashes Angostura bitters

Combine all the ingredients in a mixing glass half filled with ice. Stir thoroughly and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a wedge of lemon.

Diplomat

Recipe courtesy of Liquor.com

3 oz bourbon or rye whiskey

2 oz sweet vermouth

1/2 oz maraschino liqueur

Fill a mixing glass halfway with ice and stir all ingredients. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry.

Jockey Club Cocktail

3 oz gin

1 1/2 oz lemon juice

1/2 oz maraschino liqueur

1/2 oz creme de violette

Combine all ingredients in a shaker half filled with ice. Shake thoroughly and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Aviation Cocktail

Luxardo Maraschino Liqueur - image courtesy of ScientistMcGee

Most people these days are more familiar with maraschino cherries than with the liqueur, and why not? They go in a Manhattan or an Old Fashioned, you can put them on a sundae, or even stick ‘em all over a ham if you go for the Betty Crocker thing. If you’re a regular reader here at IPTB, odds are good you’ve got a jar in your fridge right now. And though the cherries are now more common, they originated as a by-product of the liqueur.

Maraschino liqueur was developed in the 16th century in Croatia, made from the native Marasca cherries – hence the name. In the process of making the liqueur, cherries would be crushed en masse, fermented, and distilled (along with the plants’ sprigs, honey, and other ingredients). After the process was complete, workers would find the few whole cherries left in the mash – now boozed up and thoroughly delicious – and sell them as a delicacy. Modern versions are completely different – sweet, unboozy, and not made from Marasca cherries – but the name stuck.

The most classic and still most common brand of maraschino liqueur is made by Luxardo. The company was founded in 1821 in Croatia by Italian immigrants and maraschino liqueur was their very first product. In 1945, in the closing days of World War II, the family relocated back to Italy and took their business with them, where it remains today.

Though maraschino liqueur is less common in contemporary cocktails, it is very important to a lot of classics. We’ll post some of these over the next few days, such as the Mary Pickford, Aviation, Diplomat, and some versions of the Martinez. In sum, maraschino liqueur is an essential addition to your home bar if – like myself – you’re really dedicated to history, craft, and drinking like a septuagenarian.

This recipe was pulled directly from the St. Germain website.

1 1/2 oz vodka or gin (we used vodka)

3/4 oz St. Germain

1/2 oz lemon juice

top with champagne

Fill a shaker half full of ice and shake all ingredients except the champagne. Strain into a chilled champagne flute or coupe and top with champagne. Garnish with an orange peel.

The Nomayo