FYI guys: you’re probably saying my name wrong. I don’t take offense; it’s been an issue going back to preschool. The spelling is what usually trips people up, especially now that I live in Los Angeles and an “a” is almost always pronounced “ahhhhh” when in fact my “a” is just a short “A”. Why am I talking about this then if it’s a non-issue?
Well, a few weeks back for Serious Eats I decided to make a festive riff on the Caipirinha. It’s a cocktail I love to drink, but only recently. Why the wait? Well, it’s embarrassing to admit, but I was shy about mispronouncing the name. I just sorta froze up about being schooled on the correct way to say the drink. Until I finally got comfortable with one bartender and had them say the name to me over and over and then it stuck.
I’m sure you all have had that moment in a bar. Intrigued by a drink but one look at the name and you end up passing on it. Too bad! You probably would have liked it. But you want to know what? Your bartender is NOT going to judge you (OK, let’s be real. Maybe one or two a-holes will.). They are there to tell you how to say things right so you can impress your friends next time when you order that intriguing sounding drink. They want to pass on that knowledge and inform you, their customer.
I had a similar experience with wine years ago when I was up in Napa at a tasting. The Sommelier, some laid back guy in jeans, and quite possibly a jean shirt too, told me that you either like a wine or you don’t. You can hate an expensive bottle and like something you picked up for $7. You don’t need to know if you’re smelling aromas of cherry or rotting wood, you should just want to drink it. I also learned that “legs” on a wine glass are bullshit and when you’re at a tasting, don’t throw back the whole glass (oops! I was young!!).
But back to the drink. Now that we’re in the dull days of January, you already have this sunny Suze cocktail on hand, but here’s a zingy drink with a beautiful jewel tone, all thanks to some pomegranates. A Caipirinha is similar in structure to a Daiquiri, only swapping in cachaça for the rum, and whole lime pieces instead of just the juice, this cocktail has a bolder, huskier quality to it over the more refined and quieter Daiquiri.
That sour bite of the lime gets punched up by the sweet-tart pomegranate, with a little added crunch there from the seeds (sometimes I like a little something extra in my cocktails). Cachaca has an earthy flavor and here, the Leblon adds some floral aroma alongside a slightly peppery taste. By adding the sparkling wine, I find that it mixes the flavors together without dulling down their strong characteristics. You just need a touch of sugar here for balance, so don’t be afraid of adding that bar spoon full.
On a side note here, some of you might read the recipe and see sparkling wine then pass over this because the thought of opening a whole bottle just to make one cocktail seems so wasteful. But wait! No need to pass on this, just buy a split! Yes, it’s enough for two of these but really, once you make one you’ll want another. And now, let’s say it together kye-peer-EEN-yah. And by the way, it’s e-LAY-nuh.
1 barspoon superfine sugar (1 teaspoon; 4g)
10 fresh pomegranate seeds
1/2 lime, quartered
1/2 ounce pomegranate juice (1 tablespoon; 15mL)
2 ounces cachaça, such as Leblon (4 tablespoons; 60mL)
3 ounces sparkling wine (6 tablespoons; 90mL)
In the bottom of a mixing glass, add the superfine sugar and pomegranate seeds. Crush the seeds with a muddler to break open. Add lime wedges and muddle 6 times to release their juice. Add pomegranate juice and cachaça and fill glass 2/3 full with ice. Shake until well chilled, about 20 seconds. Add sparkling wine to glass, then pour contents, without straining, into a double rocks glass. Add more fresh ice cubes if desired and serve immediately.
For the longest time… I was afraid of eggnog. I don’t mean I would just turn my nose up at it, I mean, seriously, I thought if I had just a sip it would be the most horrible thing I ever drank and some unknown terrible thing would happen (like projectile vomit). Somewhere deep in my memory bank is a loop of a slovenly drunk man chugging eggnog from a carton and hurling all over the place. This was the image that my mind conjured up when I heard the word eggnog.
At some point in the last 10 years I was convinced by some person that what I really needed was to make it from scratch and try the “real thing” and it would be a life changing experience. Maybe it was Alton Brown. At least, that was the first recipe I consulted when I made it for a holiday party a number of years ago.
And holy crapballs it was delicious. Like custard, but lighter, and drinkable and somehow nothing about it was what I was expecting. I think that I was preparing to drink a cocktail the consistency of pudding and have it taste of raw eggs.. this, this cocktail, and I say cocktail because there was copious amounts of liquor in it, it was so good.
I’ve made eggnog from scratch with raw eggs quite a number of times now and there are still those I cannot get to try even a sip (perhaps they too are seeing a drunk uncle puking up streams of the stuff). So this year I thought I’d try something different, something most people can’t resist. An edible cocktail.
Instead of an intimidating punch bowl, I’m trying out tiny bite sized shots of the stuff. These beautiful hemispheres might not get you sloshed, but they might just be the gateway into drinking the stuff. Why?
If you’re curious about what mold to use, silicone is best for removing the jello shots. I used these 
, but you can use any shape you’d like. If you’d like to get really fancy, use a larger mold, and then serve in a tiny cup with a spoon.
Happy Holidays!
(1/2 ounce; 14g)
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