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| A Classic Caipirinha |
It’s my sure intent to provide a kaleidoscopic view not only on wine, but to avoid tunnel vision when it comes to anything concerning grapes. This is the post where I fly straight into a realm that’s wildly different from common topics such as, “phenol,” or “resveritrol.” Please, if you want me to entertain these notions with relevant dialogue, my blog comments are currently without audience. Besides that, I’m talking about something which has been of undivided interest to me, more or less, and concerns the fact that most of my posts tend to represent an extension of my own epicurean lifestyle. For all reasons, the cocktail is a welcome part of my off-days and I tend to drink a “
Caipirinha” often enough to say that it deserves notice among some of the more regal mixers. Strange as it may seem, the staple libation is to Brazil, what Reggaeton was to Puerto Rico nearly ten years ago. Though the chronology may not be exact, the popularity timeline appears to have gone hand-over-wheel. Similarly, pushing the common Mojito is old business . . . hey, as long as we’re being honest, get rid of the leaves and club soda forthwith. Simplicity is the key to galvanizing mixology; but wait, as I would partake, a visit to “BarTaco” in Port Chester stimulated my adoration for finger foods accented by strong drink. It all culminated in a citric blend of "
Leblon Cachaça” and key limes . . .oh yes, the braised tongue loosely garnered by flour tortillas was equally helpful.
Literally translating to: “The Little Peasant Girl,” the cocktail itself, is refreshing enough to imagine
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| Leblon Cachaça |
the summer heat as nothing but a pretense to sweet, perfumed essences of lime, sugar and crisp liquor. “
Cachaça,” a spirit from the largest country in South America by area, is the one responsible for my tepid feelings about certain types of rum, vodka and whiskey. Heck, especially the common dark or silver rum that seems like a by-law in preparing molasses. The spirit is the fermented juice of the cane and let’s the unsuspecting consumer know it. Whether produced as clear, or gold in hue,
Cacaçha has an imminent purity and finesse compared to its rummy acquaintances. The
Leblon brand is one of my favorites, and it continues to be one of few additions to my cabinet stockpile.
Moreover, some spirits tend to reveal my disenchantment for other pretentiously modeled cocktails. It seems to me, that counterculture Brooklynites and wily steampunks are committed to bacon grease, tinctures and egg foam for the latest in worldly concoctions. No, keep it very simple and direct; you know, rely specifically on key ingredients and technique. I do not want to witness a sous-vide embryo inside a cocktail during my life on this planet, but I suspect that I have no control in a commingled nebulae of bar-room aesthetics.
Like Paul Kemp in the “Rum Diary,” I could imagine myself juxtaposed with the late caricature, consistently sipping
Caipirinhas and sustaining myself with nothing but hamburgers in the baleful heat. However, it would have nothing to do with rum, and I would be somewhere in Rio, or Sao Paolo instead of Puerto Rico; problem is, I don’t know where the good burger joints are in Brazil. I may not leave until the annual Carnival happens to spring up somehow. As long as someone will muddle the limes, I’ll stay put. For now, I’ll break-out my old bossa-nova records.
Next thing you know, The Girl From Ipanema will be transposed into her own mixer.
Cheers !
-Brian K. Maniotis
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team
Visit us online @:
westchesterwine.com
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