Not to be confused with the Spanish wine-and-fruit-based alcoholic beverage sangria, sangrita (meaning “little blood”) is a traditional accompaniment to a tequila served completo; a non-alcoholic sipper that cleanses the palate between fiery doses of agave.
Years ago I was taught that sangrita is a blend of tomato and orange juices, with the addition of something spicy (hot sauce, typically) for a little kick. But further research has convinced me that this American sangrita recipe, while still enjoyable and certainly prevalent, is not altogether authentic.
Real sangrita from the Lake Chapala region of Jalisco is made with Seville orange and pomegranate juices, with powdered chiles added for heat. Taking into account that even the most cocktailian bartender (professional or otherwise) doesn’t typically stock sour oranges or pomegranate juice behind the bar, I’ve worked up a recipe that should approximate the flavor of this spicy little sour orange and pomegranate chaser while still providing an authentic experience.
1 oz orange juice (freshly-squeezed)
¾ oz - 1 oz lime juice (depending on the sweetness of your oranges)
½ oz real pomegranate grenadine
3 dashes hot sauce or ¼ tsp chile powder
Mix ingredients, chill, and serve.
This is far from the final word on sangrita. I’ll still continue to enjoy the tomato varieties (1,2,3), but I think you’ll find a brightness and depth of flavor from this version that plays better with a wider variety of mezcals and tequilas than its heavier gringo cousin.
What’s your experience with sangrita? Chime in with your stories and recipes in the comments section.
One question I'm often asked is "Do you have any drink-related book recommendations?" Well, funny you should ask, I've compiled a list of the ten books every professional bartender or home mixologist should own. I keep every one of these close at hand and have read most of them several times. I suggest you do the same.
It's always mojito season somewhere, so this advice is timely in your area about half the year. Wether you're making them or simply enjoying them, this advice will help you look like a pro in no time at all.
The flavors of the Richmond Gimlet are imbued with sunshine. Fresh mint mingling with the herbaceousness of gin and the tartness of lime have made this drink a Eugene classic for many years now.
You'll get a lot of snarky advice on this site about how to make a proper drink, but if you ever need to know what not to do, this is the video for you.
The world of booze can be mystifying to people that don't work in bars or around alcohol all the time. I hear a lot of assumptions about the industry I'm in that are - much like 90% of what you hear in bars - completely false. Here are a few you've probably heard yourself.
The debate rages on: Should we try to look cool and crack open the Boston shaker or be tidy professionals and use the Hawthorne strainer the way God intended? Be sure to leave your two cents in the comments section.
The traditional garnish for a Pisco Sour is a couple of drops of bitters in the foam, but I've never been particularly impressed with the way these few paltry drops of bitters sat in their little egg-white mattress and didn't play along with the rest of the drink. I envisioned a Pisco Sour with a uniformly-distributed bitters-scorched foam: slightly crisp as the fire burnt the sugars, and slightly warm as the foam insulated the rest of the frosty cocktail from the heat. A pisco creme brulée in a glass!
I get so many visitors looking for tips on how to write a bartending resume that I thought I should finally post a tutorial on how to write your own. Click the headline to read more.
I always love showing up to a party with a gallon jug of pre-mixed margaritas, so I've decided to share my recipe. This margarita recipe is the perfect blend of strong, sweet, and sour. But be warned: this recipe packs a serious punch.
There isn't much I can say about this video that hasn't been said already. If you've read anything I've written about cocktails, you'll understand why this video symbolizes everything wrong with the state of bartending in America today. Watch and learn, but be warned: this one isn't for the feint of heart.
My name is Jeff Morgenthaler and I'm the head bartender at Bel Ami in Eugene, Oregon.
I'm 36, I've been tending bar for 12 years and writing about it for 5. Mixing drinks has become something of a passion for me in recent years, and I strive to elevate the experience of having a drink from something mundane to something more culinary.
The writing I do here is intended as a work in progress. My recipes are like my opinions: they are constantly being revised and refined as I work them through my mind and my fingers. Comments and participation are encouraged, so please don't feel the need to tread lightly here.
If you’ve noticed a dearth of posts from me while I’m at Tales of the Cocktail, please join me at the collaborative cocktail blog, TalesBlog.com
I’m attempting to liveblog some of the events I’m attending, and my colleagues are doing the same. I will, of course, be posting lots of photos and sharing some of the better stories once the trip is over.
I’m calling this “Day Zero” since the events don’t officially start until tomorrow. Although, you’d never know it by the sheer quantity of cocktail luminaries amassed in the French Quarter right now.
My day started with an internal miscommunication about the actual date of my departure (that’s what I get for booking the trip three months in advance and not checking my itinerary) - and this was after a full night behind the bar at Bel Ami.
After 10 hours of travel time, I was safely on my way to the hotel, sharing a cab with Chuck and Wes and longing for a lap or two around the Carousel Bar. And as much as I wanted to offend the room with my travel scent, I used my better judgement and cleaned up as well as I could before heading down to the bar.
There I spent some quality cocktail time with my old pals Natalie “The Liquid Muse” Bovis-Nelsen, Jenny Adams, and the Vieux Carré cocktail. It was an explosion of blogger-types as we rode the bar around the room in three complete cycles.
Then, the bloggers split off in search of jambalaya and gumbo at Coop’s (mmmm, rabbit, sausage, shrimp, oh my!). By this time I was feeling the effects of several cocktails, sleep deprivation and a full belly. Time for an iced coffee at Café du Monde! (Note to Café du Monde enthusiasts, they’ve got nothing on Pacific Northwest java. Seriously.)
The rag-tag group of enthusiasts then made its way down Bourbon Street (at Paul Clarke’s doing - thanks, Paul) to the French 75 bar next to Arnaud’s. We shared a round of 75s made with cognac and - I believe - orange liqueur (not my preferred recipe) and chatted with Jim Meehan.
I’d had my arm twisted into attending a tasting of La Fée Parisienne absinthe at the Old Absinthe House by Natalie (where were you?) and ran into some old friends from Las Vegas last year.
Anyway, it’s 11PM, I’ve been awake since I-don’t-know-when, and now I’m contemplating flipping a coin and braving the Carousel Bar once more before bed. This is going to be a good week.
To Tales of the Cocktail, that is. You see, after last year’s debacle there was no way I was going to miss this one. In fact, I was so excited about going that I somehow showed up to the airport a day early, embarrassed as heck and thanking the nice young lady up and down for rescheduling my flights. (If Beaumont were there he totally would have made fun of me until I peed my pants.)
Anyway, no harm done, as I’m currently at the Portland Airport waiting for my connection to Dallas, and then off to New Orleans. I’ll be posting updates via Twitter, here on my site, and most importantly on the ginormous collaborative cocktail blog that we’ve set up to provide more Tales coverage than you’ll be able to shake a swizzle stick at.
More to come soon, I’ve got to get ready for my flight!
Thanks to the recommendation of some good friends this weekend, I’ve added Twitter to my list of preferred web applications.
Their sage advice couldn’t have come at a better time: I’ve been busy readying myself for Tales of the Cocktail in New Orleans next week, and have been concerned about how I’ll connect with everyone I want to meet while I’m down there.
In addition to blogging the event both here and on the Tales Blog, I will be posting regular Tweets from my cell phone for those who are following my feed via Twitter or Facebook.
For all you Twitter users out there who would like to follow me around Tales, the address of my Twitter profile is here:
Here’s to hopefully seeing some of you in New Orleans!
“Try this.” The wine rep looked determined. The wine salespeople in town usually know better than to waste their time with me, as I have little-to-no influence on the wine list. If it’s a distilled product you’re trying to push - and if it’s not vodka - then I’m the man behind the bar to talk to. Otherwise, you’ll probably want to save your breath.
“It’s an Italian aperitivo and I think you’ll really like it.” She was aware of my fondness for Negronis and such and was certain I’d take a liking to the bottle of Vergano Americano she was presenting to me. Reminiscent of the drink of the same name, this Americano was a special type of Italian aperitif referred to as a chinato.
Chinati are Italian fortified wines, similar to vermouth. Originally solely flavored with quinine, they took on a life of their own sometime around the late 19th century and came to be infused with various herbs and other flavors. There is most certainly orange peel and possibly caramelized sugar in this product.
Chinati are pretty rare finds in this country. If you can’t find Americano, try talking to the importer, or experiment with other fortified wines - Dubonnet rouge might make for an interesting choice, as would Lillet rouge.
I had to have this bottle, but living in a small town sometimes means that the more esoteric liquors on the shelf don’t move as quickly as I’d like them to. Since I was afraid to buy a case and have it sit behind the bar waiting for me to hand-sell each individual glass, I figured it was time for a cocktail.
After several rounds of base liquors and bitters selections, it was time to try it out on the unsuspecting. “It’s quite strong, but really pretty right below the surface,” was the first comment I received.
So, voila: The Beauty Beneath.
2 oz Appleton Estate V/X rum
1 oz Vergano ‘Americano’ chinato
½ oz Cointreau
1 dash Fee Brothers’ Old-Fashioned bitters
Stir ingredients with cracked ice until combined and cold. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Express the oils from an orange twist over the surface of the drink and drop the spent twist into the drink.
If you can find the Fee Brothers’ Whiskey Barrel Aged bitters, grab ‘em. Unfortunately, my only bottle was in service when I stopped by the bar to pick up supplies for the photoshoot.
Not to be confused with the Spanish wine-and-fruit-based alcoholic beverage sangria, sangrita (meaning “little blood”) is a traditional accompaniment to a tequila served completo; a non-alcoholic sipper that cleanses the palate between fiery doses of agave.
Years ago I was taught that sangrita is a blend of tomato and orange juices, with the addition of something spicy (hot sauce, typically) for a little kick. But further research has convinced me that this American sangrita recipe, while still enjoyable and certainly prevalent, is not altogether authentic.
Real sangrita from the Lake Chapala region of Jalisco is made with Seville orange and pomegranate juices, with powdered chiles added for heat. Taking into account that even the most cocktailian bartender (professional or otherwise) doesn’t typically stock sour oranges or pomegranate juice behind the bar, I’ve worked up a recipe that should approximate the flavor of this spicy little sour orange and pomegranate chaser while still providing an authentic experience.
1 oz orange juice (freshly-squeezed)
¾ oz - 1 oz lime juice (depending on the sweetness of your oranges)
½ oz real pomegranate grenadine
3 dashes hot sauce or ¼ tsp chile powder
Mix ingredients, chill, and serve.
This is far from the final word on sangrita. I’ll still continue to enjoy the tomato varieties (1,2,3), but I think you’ll find a brightness and depth of flavor from this version that plays better with a wider variety of mezcals and tequilas than its heavier gringo cousin.
What’s your experience with sangrita? Chime in with your stories and recipes in the comments section.
I just looked at the calendar and realized that today is a crucial halfway-point in the year - and that I only have six months to prepare myself for my favorite American holiday: Repeal Day!
Last year was a big year for Repeal Day. We saw the launch of RepealDay.org, the official home of Repeal Day on the web and a source of information for an astounding 50,000 visitors in the month of December alone. Repeal Day parties sprang up everywhere across the country, and the good people at Dewar’s Scotch generously brought me out to New York to help them celebrate Repeal Day, of which they’ve been proud supporters since the beginning.
But as monumental last year’s Repeal Day celebration was, it should look like nothing at all when compared to this year: The Seventy-Fifth Anniversary of the Repeal of Prohibition. I’ll be updating not only this website but also expanding the valuable information at RepealDay.org and reporting on what Dewar’s has got in store for all of us this year. Stay tuned!
PS - If you’re new to the site, please take a minute and read my thoughts as to why I feel Repeal Day is so important. As always, thanks for reading.
This subject has been covered many times before, but after numerous requests and some positive encouragement from a good friend this weekend I have decided to post my version of homemade tonic water.
The base for this recipe came from my friend Kevin Ludwig, who pioneered craft tonic water in Portland. His recipe can be found on page 76 of the March/April 2007 issue of Imbibe Magazine. This version is all mine.
My problem with homemade tonic water has always been a flavor profile that was too esoteric for the general audience. This recipe takes some of the positive qualities people have come to understand from commercial tonic water and updated them with fresh ingredients.
4 cups water
1 cup chopped lemongrass (roughly one large stalk)
¼ cup powdered cinchona bark
zest and juice of 1 orange
zest and juice of 1 lemon
zest and juice of 1 lime
1 tsp whole allspice berries
¼ cup citric acid
¼ tsp Kosher salt
Combine ingredients in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil over high heat. Once mixture starts to boil, reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for 20 minutes.
Try a few different suppliers for powdered cinchona bark to see which you like best. Tenzing Momo has great products as a rule, but their cinchona can often be floral, which may or may not work for you. You can also find cinchona from bulk herbal medicine retailers and other specialty herb shops. I find the yellow variety to be milder than the red, so adding too many other flavors to the mix can overpower the quinine. Adjust your recipes accordingly.
Remove from heat and strain out solids using a strainer or chinois. You’ll need to fine-strain the mixture, as it still contains quite a bit of the cinchona bark. You can use a coffee filter and wait for an hour or more, or do as I do and run the whole mixture through a French coffee press.
Once you’re satisfied with the clarity of your mix, heat it back up on the stovetop or microwave, and then add ¾ cup of agave syrup to each cup of your hot mix. Stir until combined, and store in the attractive bottle of your choice.
You now have a syrup that you can carbonate with seltzer water; I use my iSi soda siphon for some nicely-textured bubbles. To assemble a gin and tonic, use ¾ ounce of syrup, 1½ ounces of gin and 2 ounces of soda water over ice.
Once you’ve mastered your own tonic recipe, you can begin to experiment with different spices and fruit flavors to pair with specific gins. For instance, I’ve found that beefing up the orange peel results in a tonic that pairs nicely with Hendrick’s, but try playing off the coriander or cardamom in other gins and see what happens.
I own a small library of books on the subject of bartending. Some of these books are geared toward the professional bartender, while others are written for the home mixologist. But regardless of the intended audience, almost every book I own heartily recommends that we use paring knives for cutting fruits and garnishes. […]
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