Plasma Mary

Yeah, it's been awhile. But there you are.

I had a modest harvest of tomatoes this year, which for a single person is a cornucopia. With some of my extra pineapple tomatoes (sweet and flavorful with good acidity), I made a tomato water. I blended them, squeezed the juice through cheesecloth and then skimmed off the clear part after it settled in the fridge.

Then I added horseradish, Tabasco, Worcestershire and salt along with some ice and Sapphire gin. Stirred and strained and voila! A new style of bloody mary that is super-tomato-y but is super clean and light tasting. Quite spectacular.

Anyone have ideas how to make it even clearer?

I supposed if I were to do it right, I should coat the glass rim with celery salt. Next time.

Another Veiled Excuse for Insobriety

precursor to a Technicolor yawn I’m a beer and wine kind of guy but I love the idea of the mixed drink. It’s kind of a flavor/math brain teaser. When I’m not thinking about what I’m eating for my next meal, I’ll frequently fantasize about some elaborate concoction involving dashes of bitters and twists of citrus zests. But I couldn’t care less about your [insert cloying flavor] martini, or your double entendre shot. I mean, isn’t a Screaming Orgasm just a single entendre? I sneer at these libations not just because I’m a condescending snob. There’s a tiny part of me that doesn’t drink them because they’re disgusting. somehow more civilized than a ___-tini The three types of cocktails that interest me begin with the classics: Manhattan, martini – gin only (snob), side car, etc. These are the potent potables I imagine businessmen from the 1950s drank in the smoky Metro North bar car on their way from Grand Central Station to Greenwich. A single rye Manhattan (neat, of course) can transport you to a more refined emotional state. Subsequent refills can transport you to different place entirely. I should know. The second kind of cocktail are the forgotten ones. The ones from Edwardian times that use some obscure liquor like crème de violette, pernod, or absinthe. These drinks are frequently mixed in some ritualistic fashion involving the backs of spoons and sugar lumps which makes them all the more pretentious (yay!). Take for instance, this delicious looking apple jack concoction mixed by my lesbian crush and cocktail historian, Rachel Maddow: How is this drink not cool? The third kind of distilled liquor-based beverage that interests me is the sort of nouveau artisanal (I’m starting to sound super-douchy) cocktail that eschews factory flavored syrups in favor of pure essences. The Hungry Cat broke new ground for me when their bar insisted on making their own herb-infused simple syrups and juicing their fruit to order. You'd think it would slow them down and maybe it does, but there's the giant Vegematic juicer on the bar that makes it all worth it. With drink names like “Peach Pit” and “Root Beer Float,” you’d think they’d be completely sissified girl drinks, but in fact all their drinks are restrained (unlike sissified girls) while still tasting exactly like they’re described. My favorites is the cucumber martini, the one exception to my flavored martini ban. It is one of the most refreshing intoxicants I’ve ever had. not part of the DeKuypers product line At home I’ve had mixed success in creating my own flavored cocktails. I’d experiment more but I can’t really handle the hangovers. My interest has been on vodka infusions, a focus driven by the fact that most mass-market infused vodkas tend to taste like liquid Jolly Ranchers. First, I start with a decent, neutral vodka – Smirnoff has been both rated highly and it’s relatively cheap when it’s at Trader Joe’s. I pour a fifth in a decanter with the flavor component and stick it in the refrigerator for a spell. I’ve had success with raspberries (12 ounce sack of frozen ones) and ginger (a few ounces of fresh peeled slices). You let them soak for a few days and then decant them back into the original bottle. The raspberry creates a lot of cloudy sediment so you have to be really careful decanting and then you have to filter the last few ounces (or drink the murky stuff separately). It’s worth the hassle; pure ginger and raspberry flavors shine through without any high fructose corn syrup getting in the way. You can always add sweetness later.

Simple Syrup Equal volumes sugar and water, heated and stirred until melted. If you want to infuse it, add flavoring, e.g., a couple rosemary sprigs, mint, etc., during heating process. Keep in the fridge.

My failures include pineapple, wild blueberry and fresh cranberry – all tasted nothing like their original form, i.e., tasted like crap. Lemon zest didn’t yield anything special and split vanilla bean was a total pain (thousands of tiny seeds cloud the mix). It doesn’t end up tasting much different than the stuff at the liquor store and I actually missed the sweetness. I still have a full bottle of chipotle chile infused vodka sitting on a shelf. No one can handle more than a sniff. I’m thinking of bottling it in aerosol form and selling it as a self-defense weapon. my basil failure At my local haunt, The Chalet, one of the bartenders, Gerkin, poured me a shot of his house-made (is that different from homemade?) basil infused vodka. It was a summery revelation with just the right amount of heady green fragrance. Very clean tasting. I tried to make it at home with a handful of pinched-off basil flowers that were going to be tossed anyhow. Four days later it tasted like an overwhelming torrent of resinous, pine-y flavors. Gerkin told me last night that the key is to let the basil macerate for 36 hours tops. Or was it 18? Hm. More experimenting is in order. Hopefully I can take my herbaceous stuff and cut it with some more vodka to make it drinkable. Over-infusion is probably the same problem I had with the pepper vodka; the same shriveled chipotle has been sitting in the bottle for 6 years slowly imparting more and more of its smoky toxicity. why not kaffir lime? Infusions on the horizon: shiso, lemongrass and whatever other foofy herbs I see at the Asian market. I’m talking to you, galanga!