The Tippling Bros. a Lime and a Shaker Page 9
Add all the ingredients to a cocktail shaker.
Add ice and shake.
Strain over fresh ice in an old-fashioned glass.
Garnish with the zigzag float of blueberry puree and lightly dust with chipotle powder.
Note: While we advocate always using the freshest produce available, sometimes it’s not feasible. Blueberries are magnificent during their season, especially when sourced from local farmers, but that season is fleeting. We recommend using a high-quality flash-frozen puree for all other occasions. See examples.
Misty’s Sleeve
1 (1-inch) orange chunk
1¾ ounce Grandma Mix
¾ ounce fresh lime juice
¾ ounce Ginger Syrup
3 dashes El Yucateco green habanero hot sauce
OLD-FASHIONED
Rim of Hibiscus Salt and a lime wedge
This drink is named after our dear friend of many years, Misty Kalkofen. She was an incredibly badass Boston bartender for a long time before becoming an advocate for artisanally produced mezcal. She is a lover of all things agave, which makes us love her even more, and she happens to have a sleeve of hibiscus flower tattoos, which we fell in love with when we first met her (we have a secret thing for hibiscus). She is spicy, intense, and full of flavor and so is her drink. Make this. You’ll love it.
Muddle the chunk of orange in a cocktail shaker.
Add all the remaining ingredients with ice and shake.
Strain over fresh ice in an old-fashioned glass rimmed with Hibiscus Salt and garnish with the lime wedge.
2 ounces reposado tequila
4 (1-inch) chunks ripe seedless watermelon
1 ounce fresh lime juice
1 ounce Simple Syrup
3 dashes El Yucateco red habanero, Valentina, or Cholula hot sauce
1 cup ice
tall
A watermelon slice
We generally think of watermelon cooling us down on scorching summer afternoons. No such relief with this one. While you get all the flavor, if it weren’t for the ice, this one’d light you up like the Fourth of July.
Add all the ingredients to a blender and blend until smooth.
Pour into a tall glass.
Garnish with the watermelon slice.
Spicy Chino
1½ ounces blanco tequila
1½ ounces pear puree
½ ounce fresh lime juice
2 dashes Bittermens or Bitter End mole bitters
3 ounces ginger beer
Highball
Asian pear slices and 2 dashes Bittermens or Bitter End mole bitters
Chino is a colloquial nickname for a good friend, and this simple and satisfying drink wants to be your buddy. If pear puree is unavailable, pear nectar or juice will also do the trick.
Add all the ingredients except for the ginger beer to a cocktail shaker.
Add ice and shake.
Strain over fresh ice in a highball glass.
Top with the ginger beer and stir.
Garnish with pear slices and the bitters.
2 ounces whole milk
½ ounce Simple Syrup
1 large jalapeño chile
2 ounces Ancho Tequila
2 ounces Arbol Syrup
2 ounces Pineapple-Habanero Puree
½ ounce fresh lime juice
4 strong dashes Tabasco
½ teaspoon 151-proof rum
OLD-FASHIONED and narrow drinking glass
Rim of Pico Picquin and a wooden skewer
At first glance, it is clear the glass, rimmed in ground chiles, does not contain an ordinary tequila concoction. A hollowed-out jalapeño pepper, filled with sweetened milk and high-proof rum, sits atop the drink, flaming in a dramatic flourish. Curls of wafting smoke foreshadow the heat that will grip each sip. Yes, the tequila is softened by pineapple puree, but lurking within are “seven deadly chiles” in various preparations—muddled, infused, and cooked—that have earned this incendiary cocktail the name Vato Loco.
In 2010, we introduced the Vato Loco, aka the Hottest Drink on Earth, to the menus of Mercadito in Chicago and New York, and per our cheeky style, we made all the patrons who gravitated toward this cocktail sign a waiver, letting them know that “serious tearing of the eyes,” “a severe burning sensation on the tongue,” and “possible fire shooting out of the mouth” were all likely repercussions of choosing this fiery libation over, say, a frozen passion fruit Margarita. The idea for the drink arose from a dare, one which we, as lovers of hot foods and challenges alike, readily accepted. We wanted to create a drink that, in the immortal words of one Nigel Tufnel, “goes to eleven.”
Given its novelty, the drink made the TV circuit—causing quite a ruckus when it lit up an unknowing Frank Gifford on the Today show with Kathie Lee and Hoda and sent chef Aarón Sanchez scrambling for a glass of milk on Food Network’s Heat Seekers. Naturally, we reveled in the buzz surrounding the Vato Loco’s playful nature, but what we loved most about the experience was the chance to illuminate the captivating power of heat, while crafting a drink that was still delicious and drinkable (for the stout of heart and stomach).
The Vato Loco was time-consuming to prepare: we infused tequila with chiles, transformed smoky peppers (and cinnamon sticks) into simple syrup, and spiked pineapple with fresh serranos. The result was complex, unearthing varied layers of flavor and a ton of heat. The Vato Loco is an appealing mix of full-frontal assault and slow burn, and if it didn’t taste so damn good we’d be rubbing our hands together and doing the sinister movie laugh. Muah hahaha.
In a bowl, combine the milk with the Simple Syrup and stir well. Set aside.
Rim an old-fashioned glass with the Pico Picquin.
Remove the top and stem of the jalapeño and hollow out with a paring knife.
Reserve the top and insides of the jalapeño.
Push a wooden skewer horizontally through the body of the jalapeño and rest it inside the narrow glass, with the skewer sitting on the lip.
In a cocktail shaker, muddle the reserved top and insides of the jalapeño.
Add the Ancho Tequila, Arbol Syrup, Pineapple-Habanero Puree, lime juice, and Tabasco.
Add ice and shake feverishly as if being chased by demons (you and/or your guests soon will be).
Strain over fresh ice in the rimmed old-fashioned glass.
Fill the skewered jalapeño with the milk and simple syrup mixture, then carefully place it down into the center of the drink so that the skewer rests on the rim of the glass.
Using a bar spoon, gingerly pour the rum over the sweetened milk inside the jalapeño.
Set it ablaze with a long match or grill lighter and serve.
Note: Please encourage your guests (victims) to extinguish the flames and put the jalapeño back into the empty glass before taking a sip. Let them know the sweetened milk is there as a countermeasure to the effects of the chiles. Only you will know that as it sat inside the hollowed-out jalapeño, it infused with yet more fiery chile oil. (You’re welcome for that.)
3 ancho chiles, broken in half
1 bottle blanco tequila
Add the chiles to the bottle of tequila and let infuse for 1 hour, shaking occasionally.
Store at room temperature or cooler away from sunlight for up to 1 month.
MAKES 1 bottle
1 quart water
1 quart granulated sugar
8 arbol chiles
2 chipotle chiles, broken in half
1 tablespoon ground black pepper
1 cinnamon stick
Co
mbine all the ingredients in a saucepan.
Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and simmer for 30 minutes.
Remove the cinnamon stick and let cool. Store for up to 1 week.
Makes 1 quart
1 pineapple, peeled, cored, and cubed
½ cup cold water
1 habanero chile
1 serrano chile
1 teaspoon paprika
Add all the ingredients to a blender and blend until smooth.
Refrigerate until ready for use for up to 3 to 4 days.
Makes 1 quart
Los Hermanos
2 ounces joven mezcal
2 ounces passion fruit puree
¾ ounce agave nectar
½ ounce fresh lime juice
4 mint leaves
2 dashes El Yucateco green habanero hot sauce
OLD-FASHIONED
half Rim of kosher salt and black pepper and a mint leaf
Named for brothers: in blood, in spirit, in business. Boldly flavored, racy, spicy, and smoky, there’s no gray area here; this is a big daddy of a cocktail.
Add all the ingredients to a cocktail shaker.
Add ice and shake.
Strain over fresh ice in an old-fashioned glass with a salt and black pepper half rim and garnish with the mint leaf.
1½ ounces Chipotle-Infused Blanco Tequila
¾ ounce Grandma Mix
¾ ounce fresh lime juice
3 drops Bitter End Memphis Barbeque Bitters
bucket
Rim of Chipotle Salt
A simple, smoky, and spicy Margarita.
Add all the ingredients to a cocktail shaker.
Add ice and shake.
Strain over fresh ice in a bucket glass with a Chipotle Salt rim.
2 pounds shrimp peels
4 quarts onions, sliced
3 large carrots, roughly chopped
4 celery sticks, no leaves, roughly chopped
25 garlic cloves
8 plum tomatoes
1 quart El Jimador blanco tequila
1 quart morita chiles
15 guajillo chiles
Water, enough to cover the shrimp peels
Juice of 1 lime
Corn tortillas, for serving
Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Spread the shrimp peels on sheet pans and roast until bright pink, 15 to 20 minutes.
In a large stockpot, sweat the onions, carrots, celery, and garlic until the onions have softened.
Add the shrimp peels and tomatoes and cook for 5 minutes or until the tomatoes begin to break down.
Making sure the pot is over a high flame, deglaze with the tequila, being careful that it might ignite.
If it doesn’t ignite, you must ignite it yourself and let the alcohol evaporate.
When the alcohol has evaporated, add the chiles and sweat for a few minutes; cover with water.
Bring to a boil and then simmer for 2 hours or until the stock has a spicy, shrimp flavor.
Remove the shrimp peels and add the lime juice before serving.
Serve in shallow bowls with tortillas on the side.
Big Nose Goes to Mexico
Guava Cava
Batida D’Uca
Cucoyaya
Roja Loca
Chocamolé
Chocolate Mole Mixture
Hot Piece of Aztec
Manzanasada
12 Uvas
Dizzy Oaxacan Punch
Los Muertos
There are myriad versions of Mexico. Alfresco fish tacos overlooking the beach. Tranquil waterfalls gushing in Xico. Craft markets brimming with Frida Kahlo souvenirs. Ambling through the ruins of Tulum. And then there is Oaxaca, a historic postcard come to life. Located in the southwestern part of the country, Oaxaca is a colonial beauty that conjures the guidebook term picturesque, with its vividly colored homes and old Spanish churches.
Oaxaca suffered an unfortunate setback in 2006, when social protests crippled its thriving tourism industry, but it’s made a triumphant comeback in recent years. Jetsetters swoon over the leafy courtyards surrounding seventeenth-century buildings, the family-run fondas hawking tender carne asada, and the fried empanadas and spicy hot chocolate that await at open-air cafés on the plaza. But the reason we’re most compelled by Oaxaca? In a word: mezcal.
Oaxaca is ground zero for mezcal production. As we’ve already learned, all tequila is mezcal, but not all mezcal is tequila. Beyond their markedly different production methods, these agave cousins are separated by something even more powerful: marketing. Tequila—especially now that the most robust sales are of the super-premium variety—often thrives on glitz and marketing power. The Margarita was a delicious introduction to the spirit, but more and more barflies have received the message loud and clear that tequila is worth sipping alone. Mezcal, although on a delightful upswing, is still uncharted territory for many Americans who continue to view it as the stuff with the worm in it; in Oaxaca, mezcal flows like water. Club kids drink it. The artisans making traditional black clay vases drink it. Families drink it from the still in their backyard.
While we are huge fans of mezcal, its authenticity, connection to the earth, and reverence for the past is a welcome change from the flashy gimmicks we often encounter on liquor store shelves. Much of the mezcal produced here never sees the States, and is still made in the time-honored traditions of the Zapotec.
As our friend Misty Kalkofen, a Boston-based bartender who now spends her days championing mezcal on behalf of Del Maguey (and who serves as the inspiration for the cocktails Misty’s Sleeve and Misty in the Morning describes it, “Mezcal and Oaxaca: to me the two cannot be separated. The flavors of mezcal reflect the landscape of Oaxaca from her cloud-covered peaks to her broad open valleys. Mezcal is the blood coursing through the veins of Oaxaca, tying her people to the forces of nature, the noble agave, and the tierra of mother earth. Through the copitas we raise we too are connected to Oaxaca. With each sip we experience hundreds of years of tradition and culture, the knowledge of which continues to be passed from generation to generation. The spirit of Oaxaca is mezcal.” She is a wise, wise woman, and we couldn’t agree more.
A mezcal conversation doesn’t go very far without mentioning the name Ron Cooper. Ron is equal parts artist, die-hard preservationist of Oaxaca’s pre-Columbian Zapotec culture, and mezcal visionary. In the 1990s, he brought the hardworking farmers of remote Oaxacan villages into the limelight by creating the brand Del Maguey. Through this quality venture his intent was to honor the tradition and craftsmanship behind mezcal. It’s a hit with stateside bartenders and has undoubtedly paved the way for a slew of newer artisanal brands.
In Oaxaca, what was done a century ago is done today. It’s a land steeped in ritual—ritual that often incorporates mezcal and pays homage to ancestors.
Those ancestors are always within reach of oaxaqueños. Cinco de Mayo is the Mexican holiday most at the forefront of Americans’ minds. Many mistakenly believe it celebrates Mexican Independence Day when instead it commemorates the Mexicans’ surprising victory over French forces at the 1862 Battle of Puebla. While Cinco de Mayo is the perfect excuse to gorge on enchiladas and Margaritas, it’s Día de los Muertos, Day of the Dead, that is singlehandedly Oaxaca’s most important—and ritualistic—holiday.
Día de los Muertos is celebrated all over Mexico, yet only Oaxaca takes it to such ornate heights. A week before the holiday starts, on November 1 and 2, Oaxacan markets, particularly the Mercado de Abastos, teem with the mole, chocolate, sweet breads, and flowers that will grace the white sheet-wrapped home altars raised in honor of the dead. Bound to tables by sugarcane, the altars are dressed with oil lamp
s, black paper–wrapped candles, and gourds of water for ancestors who return “thirsty.” There are also the colorful comparsas, musical processions of costumed revelers, to look forward to.
* * *
To Your Health
Mezcal guru Ron Cooper of Del Maguey unravels a traditional Oaxacan ritual, one which many American bartenders have adopted as their own:
“One rapidly discovers that the Zapotec, Mixe, and Mixteca cultures do not go home after a day of work and have a cocktail. Rather, they wait for a group fiesta celebrating a birth, an eight-day wedding, a nine-day funeral, a three-day baptism, a three-day confirmation, or the visit of an important guest to consume mezcal. They are then encouraged to consume as much as possible to get closer to the gods. Remember that these preconquest peoples had infinite goddesses and gods of intoxication and ecstasy and the infinite forms those states take: the touch of a lover, the smell of a flower, the aha of an idea.