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News & Notes from NRGSazerac by Juan Vega I was wrong. How is it that all this time had passed and I had never enjoyed, or even heard of, a Sazerac? (The cocktail was even named “Official Cocktail of the City of New Orleans” in 2008.) It’s not hard to conjure up an explanation: When prohibition made any booze a criminal act local distilleries dried up. After the repeal in 1933, clear spirits became the rage and rye whiskey, along with the cocktails made from it, all but became a memory. Today, the relative scarcity of Rye whiskey (at the heart of a Sazerac) and the decade-long ‘tini craze have allowed this cocktail to fall off the radar. But two recent trends are stoking the fire of revival: a resurgence of domestic rye whiskey and the trendy popularity of “classic” cocktails in bars and restaurants across the country. Why rye? For that we have to go back to the nineteenth Century. At the time a concoction of cognac, bitters and sugar water was being prepared in the French Quarter. In fact, the drink took its name from the brand of cognac used at the time, Sazerac-du-Forge et Fils. But at the end of the 1800’s, the popular drink underwent a change for two reasons. Locally made rye whiskey was gaining popularity. At the same time the phylloxera plague was ravishing vineyards in Europe and the supply of cognac ran down. Fans of the Sazerac made the switch to rye as a logical choice. It is unclear when the addition of the absinthe took place, giving the drink it’s bright, licorice undertone. But when absinthe was banned in 1912, a locally produced pastis called Herbsaint was chosen to take its place. The recipe for the Sazerac as we know it today was born. Almost one hundred years later, this self-proclaimed Crescent City connoisseur still hadn’t savored this most quintessential quaff of the French Quarter. So I set about to change that. I recently tasted, and very much enjoyed, the Straight Rye Whiskey made by Michter’s. The sweet, smooth and spicy liquor left me wondering what exactly a Sazerac would taste like. My next step was obivious: try one. But where? Not so obvious. In fact, I soon realized that I needed an establishment not only versed in classic cocktails but also correctly stocked with the right ingredients. (I’ll admit here reluctance to head into The City. In hindsight it would have made this quest that much shorter. But I wanted to stay here in Fairfield County.) My attempts to savor a properly made Sazerac could occupy an article in itself. A combination of ill-informed bartenders, poorly stocked establishments and well-intended, though incorrect, advice led me along like a mule after a very brightly colored carrot. After three different interpretations, I have a notion of what the cocktail is supposed to be. Orange was the dominant citrus aroma along with anise and licorice. The lemon oils actually help coax the bitters out of the drink. It was slightly sweet and bracing. I was beginning to understand and finally getting close. By the time I was finished I was grateful for the bartenders’ efforts, even if slightly miffed by the use of the wrong spirit at least twice! As I write this I feel like I’ve gotten close to the mountain that is a Sazerac. The summit is just over yonder; I’ve seen the posters and read all about the hike but haven’t made it to the top just yet. It’s within my grasp and I can feel (taste) it. |
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Veraison A word used by English speakers for that immediate stage of grape berry development which marks the beginning of ripening, when grapes change from the hard, green state to their softened and colored form. – The Oxford Companion to Wine |
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