Dining Features Article |
Gin and Bear It
In the dog days of August, only one spirit will do.
By Anthony Giglio
- Photo by Carl Tremblay.
Few things tick off gin drinkers (read: me) more than ordering a martini and being asked, “Would you prefer vodka or gin, sir?” Or, worse, not being asked at all—then being served a “martini” made with insipid vodka. If you don’t get what the big deal is, it’s akin to ordering a grilled porterhouse and being served a steamed tilapia fillet.
It’s hard to believe in the age of vodka’s unparalleled dominance that there was a time when America’s clear favorite was all but nonexistent. The original 1935 edition of Mr. Boston: Official Bartender’s and Party Guide didn’t include a single cocktail made with vodka. In the latest, 66th edition of Mr. Boston, edited by moi, there are 119. None are called martinis, of course.
Gin is the original spirit of the martini. The one that made businessmen, and the women who loved them, happy to tip back a trio during the now woefully defunct three-martini lunch. Unfortunately, it also made them smell like gin back at the office, a fact that is probably the greatest contributor to gin’s decline. Smirnoff single-handedly derailed gin’s dominance in the martini in the 1950s with its campaign, “Smirnoff—it leaves you breathless.” By the time James Bond ordered a shaken vodka martini in 1962, the deal was done.
What a pity. While vodka by definition is a colorless, odorless, and intentionally flavorless spirit, gin is defined by scent and taste. Its very name derives from the French word for juniper; its berries are the main, but certainly not the only, ingredient. Indeed, gin is famed for its complex layers of flavor, which arise from the heady blend of botanicals used to brew it. Each distillery has its own secret recipe, but common infusions include coriander, lemon and orange peel, fennel, cassia, anise, almond, and angelica.
Still, aficionados can easily pick out their favorites. The recipe for England’s Bombay Sapphire, for example, dates back to 1761 and purportedly includes 10 botanicals—including cubeb berries (an Asian pepper) and exotic grains of paradise. France’s Citadelle is up-front about its 19 herbs and spices but won’t comment on quantities—though the Dutch cumin is certainly not trying to hide itself. Hendrick’s from Scotland, a relative newcomer, derives most of its flavor from one dominant ingredient: cucumbers. But trust me, it still tastes smooth, and more than a little mysterious.
It wasn’t always that way. Gin was invented by a 17th-century Dutch chemist, Dr. Franciscus Sylvius, in an effort to exploit the therapeutic properties of juniper. According to cocktail historian Dale DeGroff, English soldiers fighting in the lowlands of the Netherlands took a shine to it, and dubbed it “Dutch courage.” It didn’t take long before gin was all the rage in London’s burgeoning (and miserable) working class, soaring from 500,000 gallons imbibed in 1690 to 18 million by 1710.
At the end of the 19th century, gin became drier and more refined. And in the heyday of the Empire, it played a supporting but pivotal role as a cure-all when quinine was introduced to British troops to fight malaria in the tropics. To mask the funky taste of the fizzy tincture called Indian Tonic Water, gin was added, along with a squeeze of lime. The three ingredients combined famously and the good—and good for you—refresher, the gin and tonic, was born.
If gin can quench thirst in the tropics, it’s good enough for Boston. Martinis and G-and-Ts are refreshing when the temperature rises because they’re savory, not sickly sweet. Hear that, cosmo fans?
Take the Hendrick’s Blossom, my new favorite gin cocktail. I discovered it on a horribly humid night when I bellied up to the bar at Mistral and asked bar manager Jeremy Vache for a martini. To his credit he didn’t ask if I preferred vodka or gin. Without missing a beat, he said, “I make a beautiful cocktail with gin and fresh cucumber.” I salivated as he poured the gin, added cucumber and lemon juice, and shook the concoction for 40 seconds before straining it into a chilled martini glass. The result was a brilliant, pale green elixir that tasted like…summer.
It’s hard to believe in the age of vodka’s unparalleled dominance that there was a time when America’s clear favorite was all but nonexistent. The original 1935 edition of Mr. Boston: Official Bartender’s and Party Guide didn’t include a single cocktail made with vodka. In the latest, 66th edition of Mr. Boston, edited by moi, there are 119. None are called martinis, of course.
Gin is the original spirit of the martini. The one that made businessmen, and the women who loved them, happy to tip back a trio during the now woefully defunct three-martini lunch. Unfortunately, it also made them smell like gin back at the office, a fact that is probably the greatest contributor to gin’s decline. Smirnoff single-handedly derailed gin’s dominance in the martini in the 1950s with its campaign, “Smirnoff—it leaves you breathless.” By the time James Bond ordered a shaken vodka martini in 1962, the deal was done.
What a pity. While vodka by definition is a colorless, odorless, and intentionally flavorless spirit, gin is defined by scent and taste. Its very name derives from the French word for juniper; its berries are the main, but certainly not the only, ingredient. Indeed, gin is famed for its complex layers of flavor, which arise from the heady blend of botanicals used to brew it. Each distillery has its own secret recipe, but common infusions include coriander, lemon and orange peel, fennel, cassia, anise, almond, and angelica.
Still, aficionados can easily pick out their favorites. The recipe for England’s Bombay Sapphire, for example, dates back to 1761 and purportedly includes 10 botanicals—including cubeb berries (an Asian pepper) and exotic grains of paradise. France’s Citadelle is up-front about its 19 herbs and spices but won’t comment on quantities—though the Dutch cumin is certainly not trying to hide itself. Hendrick’s from Scotland, a relative newcomer, derives most of its flavor from one dominant ingredient: cucumbers. But trust me, it still tastes smooth, and more than a little mysterious.
It wasn’t always that way. Gin was invented by a 17th-century Dutch chemist, Dr. Franciscus Sylvius, in an effort to exploit the therapeutic properties of juniper. According to cocktail historian Dale DeGroff, English soldiers fighting in the lowlands of the Netherlands took a shine to it, and dubbed it “Dutch courage.” It didn’t take long before gin was all the rage in London’s burgeoning (and miserable) working class, soaring from 500,000 gallons imbibed in 1690 to 18 million by 1710.
At the end of the 19th century, gin became drier and more refined. And in the heyday of the Empire, it played a supporting but pivotal role as a cure-all when quinine was introduced to British troops to fight malaria in the tropics. To mask the funky taste of the fizzy tincture called Indian Tonic Water, gin was added, along with a squeeze of lime. The three ingredients combined famously and the good—and good for you—refresher, the gin and tonic, was born.
If gin can quench thirst in the tropics, it’s good enough for Boston. Martinis and G-and-Ts are refreshing when the temperature rises because they’re savory, not sickly sweet. Hear that, cosmo fans?
Take the Hendrick’s Blossom, my new favorite gin cocktail. I discovered it on a horribly humid night when I bellied up to the bar at Mistral and asked bar manager Jeremy Vache for a martini. To his credit he didn’t ask if I preferred vodka or gin. Without missing a beat, he said, “I make a beautiful cocktail with gin and fresh cucumber.” I salivated as he poured the gin, added cucumber and lemon juice, and shook the concoction for 40 seconds before straining it into a chilled martini glass. The result was a brilliant, pale green elixir that tasted like…summer.
Originally published in Boston magazine, August 2006
 |
Change text size |
 |
Print |
 |
Email |
 |
Write a comment |
User comments
- No users have posted comments on this article.
