
Vallejo Nocturno 2008 -drunken splendor
From The Cocktail Chronicles:
Sours are among the oldest class of cocktails, and as mixology goes,
they’re pretty basic stuff: mix booze, lemon and sugar, then chill and
serve. Nothing could be easier, and from this base simplicity comes the
sour’s true charm — after all, it’s nothing more than that sentimental
classic, lemonade, assuming you make your lemonade with hard stuff
rather than water.
I’ve already covered the whiskey sour,
the most common “pure” sour still in circulation (assuming for a moment
that you discount the daiquiri, which you shouldn’t, but swap the lemon
for the lime and it appears that naming the drink is open to all
comers), but one sour that’s popping up all over the place is the pisco
sour.
Not that the pisco sour is anything new — no, this little number has
been around the block a few times, ever since pisco had a brief role as
the rotgut of choice around San Francisco saloons way back around Gold
Rush days, when getting whiskey or rum to California meant loading it
onto a wagon train, or onto a ship for a treacherous trip around the
Cape. No, during that time, pisco had it easy — native to South America
(Chile and Peru are still battling it out about who’s responsible),
this grape brandy had a clear shot at the gold fields, at least until
the transcontinental railroad came along and blew away that market.
Granted, I can’t attest to how many pisco sours were served during that
time — according to David Wondrich, in an article he wrote for Slow
Foods USA a couple of years back, pisco punch was the way to go for
quality drinking — but it’s impressive to see this spirit, and this
drink, showing up on bar menus once again. Hell, the next thing you
know, you’ll be able to stroll into your local sports bar and order an
arrack punch.
OK, maybe that’s wishful thinking. But still, hone in on a pisco
sour. Like the rest of the sours, the pisco sour is defined by its
simplicity: pisco, lemon, sugar. Done? Not quite. Sure, you could stop
there and mix it as usual, and you’d have a fine drink, but a really
alluring pisco sour requires a couple of extra steps. First, stick a
raw egg white in there — no, really, all you squeamish types who are
scratching this drink off the list, try this just once: Get a really
fresh egg, rinse it off, then crack it and separate it (if you need
that explained to you, go grab your Joy of Cooking) —
introduce the white into your mixing glass (one white works well for
two drinks), then, after you add all the other ingredients and your
ice, shake extra hard, for about 10 seconds. This aerates the white —
kind of like you’re making meringue in your cocktail shaker — and gives
the drink extra body, the kind of hearty gumption it’s nice to see in a
drink sometimes.
Then — and this is the pisco sour’s other unique attribute — after
you’ve strained your drink into a glass, drip three or four drops of
Angostura bitters on the foam. Why not mix it in? Easy — because, now
that you have that nice foamy head the egg white gives you, the
Angostura remains somewhat suspended at the top of the glass (some
blossoms nicely in the drink, of course). As you raise the glass to
take a sip, the first thing you experience is the aroma of the bitters,
followed by the slight funkiness of the brandy and the sour of the
citrus, all with a texture like liquid silk. Nice? Absolutely.
OK, before I give the recipe, there’s something that needs to be
said: while Peru and Chile still wrestle over the origins of pisco,
there is also a continuing debate over what’s most appropriate to use
in a pisco sour: lemon or lime. The answer, of course, is whichever one
you prefer, and to find out which is the case, you should try both.
Tonight, however, start with lemon, for two basic reasons: lemons are
the citrus of choice in the classic sour; and, today is Mixology Monday, hosted by Jonathan over at Jiggle the Handle,
and Jonathan’s chosen topic is Lemon. Be sure to jog over there and
check out all the other drinks that are coming up this week.
Pisco Sour
- 2 ounces pisco
- 1 ounce fresh lemon juice
- 2 teaspoons simple syrup (or 1 teaspoon sugar)
- 1/2 of an egg white
- 3-4 drops Angostura bitters
Shake everything except bitters ferociously with ice and strain
into a chilled cocktail glass (or, you can use a Champagne flute—I had
one served this way once, and it made a pleasant impression). Drip the
bitters on the foam topping the drink.