We enjoyed a trip of extremes two weeks ago, starting in LA and ending in Whistler, B.C. College family weekend, swim meet, then skiing.
Water in two very different forms took center stage, which got me thinking about H-two-oh. Solid, liquid, gas -- we use it in so many ways and for many different reasons.
As a novice bartender, my biggest battle has been with my freezer. How do I allow my beautiful ice cubes to cohabitate with my frozen peas and Trader Joe's Mandarin Orange Chicken? Flavors in a drink can mask the added flavors that sneak into the ice, but I know that I'm serving an inferior product. The ice cubes that most regrigerator ice makers produce are also less than appealing -- the cubes are the wrong shape and melt too quickly.
I've done a little research and the prospects, though extreme, are tempting. Apparently I'm not alone in my obsession. The first article I read ditched the home ice cube tray and suggested freezing water in a large bowl. Once frozen, the excess water inside the frozen blob is drained and scored and then broken into perfect, clear ice cubes. My skepticism about this approach deterred me from trying it at home; instead I chose to check out some more advise on the web.
The next article I found talked about the special 2500-dollar freezers that bars invest in to get the perfect ice cube, which isn't exactly practicle for you and me. It wasn't really practicle for the writer either who then turned to the packaged ice he could purchase at his local Safeway. Better price point for sure, but not surprisingly this isn't exactly great for cocktails. The ice is too murky, gets clumped into large pieces, and it melts even more quickly than your refrigerator's ice maker. Now this article is really worth reading because this poor guy spent way more time than I ever would searching for the perfect ice cube. In the end, his answer came in the form of some "premium" bagged ice called On the Rocks. He had me totally ready to rush out and spend 4 to 5 dollars on a bag of the stuff until I learned I would need to travel to Connecticut to get it. Dang.
As we were flying down to California, I stumbled upon yet another article about some guy who travels the planet searching for perfect ice; not just for the sake of finding aged ice but specifically for cocktails! This guy isn't just traveling to Connecticut. No, he's checking out Artic glaciers to find ice in its purest form. Ice that is thousands of years old. And this leads to my fourth article, which I have the feeling just might be tied to the globe-trotting guy in the magazine article. Premium ice, and I mean really premium ice, is apparently the latest and greatest thing in the world of mixology. So much so that ice poaching is reaching epidemic proportions. I'm not making this up, really. The best of the best are seeking out this amazing ice because it is pure, dense, as clear as crytal, and floats nearly invisibly in a cocktail -- the perfect caveman cocktail.
Someday I would like to experience ice like this. In the meantime, however, I will consider taking a trip to Rome to taste these mini cocktail glass ice cubes that my sister recently sampled and photographed for me. Cool, literally.
For the time being I will try to come to terms with my mandarin orange- and pea-infused cubes and dream about crystal clear, perfect ice. Sledding to the North Pole is starting to sound better and better.
Now all this talk about ice is making me think back to the South American Caipirosca that I highlighted back a number of blog posts ago. The Caipirosca, along with its cousin, the Caipirinha, are some of the only drinks that retain the ice used while shaking the drink. See where I'm going with this? I don't think they eat Trader Jose's Mandarin Chicken in Brazil, so if ever there was a time for glacier ice, this is it. The Caipirosca, if you recall, is made with a muddled lime, brown sugar syrup, vodka, and, of course, ice. The Caipirinha (I just have to stop for a moment and say just how difficult it is to type out those two names) is basically the same drink, but instead of vodka you use cachaca (if this was a Spanish keyboard, the second "c" would have one of those miniature upside-down question marks under it). Cachaca (pronounced "ka-cha-sa) is Brazilian rum made from fresh sugarcane juice that is fermented and distilled. Like rum, it has two varieties: young (white) and aged (gold). For this drink the young variety is just fine; the aged variety is better when sipping straight.
Caipirinha
1/2 lime, quartered
3/4 ounce brown sugar syrup (mix equal parts of brown sugar and boiled water until dissolved)
2 ounces cachaca
Chill a cocktail glass. In the bottom of a Boston shaker, place the lime quarters and the syrup and muddle them to release the lime's oils. Add the cachaca and enough cracked ice to fill a cocktail glass. Shake well and pour the entire contents back into the chilled cocktail glass. Then go tango.
Water in two very different forms took center stage, which got me thinking about H-two-oh. Solid, liquid, gas -- we use it in so many ways and for many different reasons.
As a novice bartender, my biggest battle has been with my freezer. How do I allow my beautiful ice cubes to cohabitate with my frozen peas and Trader Joe's Mandarin Orange Chicken? Flavors in a drink can mask the added flavors that sneak into the ice, but I know that I'm serving an inferior product. The ice cubes that most regrigerator ice makers produce are also less than appealing -- the cubes are the wrong shape and melt too quickly.
I've done a little research and the prospects, though extreme, are tempting. Apparently I'm not alone in my obsession. The first article I read ditched the home ice cube tray and suggested freezing water in a large bowl. Once frozen, the excess water inside the frozen blob is drained and scored and then broken into perfect, clear ice cubes. My skepticism about this approach deterred me from trying it at home; instead I chose to check out some more advise on the web.
The next article I found talked about the special 2500-dollar freezers that bars invest in to get the perfect ice cube, which isn't exactly practicle for you and me. It wasn't really practicle for the writer either who then turned to the packaged ice he could purchase at his local Safeway. Better price point for sure, but not surprisingly this isn't exactly great for cocktails. The ice is too murky, gets clumped into large pieces, and it melts even more quickly than your refrigerator's ice maker. Now this article is really worth reading because this poor guy spent way more time than I ever would searching for the perfect ice cube. In the end, his answer came in the form of some "premium" bagged ice called On the Rocks. He had me totally ready to rush out and spend 4 to 5 dollars on a bag of the stuff until I learned I would need to travel to Connecticut to get it. Dang.
As we were flying down to California, I stumbled upon yet another article about some guy who travels the planet searching for perfect ice; not just for the sake of finding aged ice but specifically for cocktails! This guy isn't just traveling to Connecticut. No, he's checking out Artic glaciers to find ice in its purest form. Ice that is thousands of years old. And this leads to my fourth article, which I have the feeling just might be tied to the globe-trotting guy in the magazine article. Premium ice, and I mean really premium ice, is apparently the latest and greatest thing in the world of mixology. So much so that ice poaching is reaching epidemic proportions. I'm not making this up, really. The best of the best are seeking out this amazing ice because it is pure, dense, as clear as crytal, and floats nearly invisibly in a cocktail -- the perfect caveman cocktail.
Someday I would like to experience ice like this. In the meantime, however, I will consider taking a trip to Rome to taste these mini cocktail glass ice cubes that my sister recently sampled and photographed for me. Cool, literally.
For the time being I will try to come to terms with my mandarin orange- and pea-infused cubes and dream about crystal clear, perfect ice. Sledding to the North Pole is starting to sound better and better.
Now all this talk about ice is making me think back to the South American Caipirosca that I highlighted back a number of blog posts ago. The Caipirosca, along with its cousin, the Caipirinha, are some of the only drinks that retain the ice used while shaking the drink. See where I'm going with this? I don't think they eat Trader Jose's Mandarin Chicken in Brazil, so if ever there was a time for glacier ice, this is it. The Caipirosca, if you recall, is made with a muddled lime, brown sugar syrup, vodka, and, of course, ice. The Caipirinha (I just have to stop for a moment and say just how difficult it is to type out those two names) is basically the same drink, but instead of vodka you use cachaca (if this was a Spanish keyboard, the second "c" would have one of those miniature upside-down question marks under it). Cachaca (pronounced "ka-cha-sa) is Brazilian rum made from fresh sugarcane juice that is fermented and distilled. Like rum, it has two varieties: young (white) and aged (gold). For this drink the young variety is just fine; the aged variety is better when sipping straight.
1/2 lime, quartered
3/4 ounce brown sugar syrup (mix equal parts of brown sugar and boiled water until dissolved)
2 ounces cachaca
Chill a cocktail glass. In the bottom of a Boston shaker, place the lime quarters and the syrup and muddle them to release the lime's oils. Add the cachaca and enough cracked ice to fill a cocktail glass. Shake well and pour the entire contents back into the chilled cocktail glass. Then go tango.
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